As he moved, his boots crunched on glass and silicon. He wasn't alone. Other silhouettes moved in the periphery, shadows with the same desperate gait. No one spoke. In the Lowlands, breath was too expensive to waste on pleasantries.
The neon sign buzzed with a low, rhythmic hum, casting a flickering violet light over the rusted metal gate. Painted in crude, dripping white letters across the barrier was the phrase that had become Elias’s entire world: Continue para o ponto de verificação 1. Continue para o ponto de verificação 1
He began to walk. The path was narrow, carved into the side of a mountain of discarded tech. To his left, a sheer drop into the "Cloud of Lead," a permanent fog of industrial exhaust. To his right, the jagged remains of a civilization that had consumed itself. As he moved, his boots crunched on glass and silicon