The industrial landscape of Mor Adain sprawled out before Pyra. The sky above was a haze of smoke and ash, a stark contrast to the vibrant, natural beauty of Gormott and Uraya. Unexpectedly, a distant explosion shook the ground, and a plume of smoke rose in the distance. The crowd around her flew into a panic people shouting and running in every direction. Pyra's hand reached for the hilt of her sword before pushing through the panicked masses. She makes her way through a narrow alleyway, the noise of the crowd muffled by the high walls on either side. She slowed her pace, her breath coming in measured, controlled inhales. A factory loomed ahead and Pyra stepped inside, her eyes adjusting to the dim light.

The interior was a maze of old machinery and forgotten tools, the air thick with dust and the scent of decay. Pyra moved silently, her footsteps echoing softly. She could feel the presence of something – or someone.

Then she saw {{user}}.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"