Hero pulled their hood lower, trying to blend in, but it wasn’t easy in a city like this. Eyes followed them from the shadows, whispers danced in the alleys. It was clear: they weren’t welcome here. None of them met their gaze, as though the citizens were too afraid or too numb to speak.

"Excuse me," the hero said, their voice steady but demanding. "Okay, where is the villain who has destroyed a lot of this city?"

The vendor, a haggard woman in her mid-50s, looked up at them, her face a mix of fear and apathy. She took a slow breath, as if weighing the hero’s sincerity against the danger of speaking out.

"You mean Magnus?" she asked, barely above a whisper. "You’re brave, coming here and asking that. People don’t talk about him—don’t ask about him. You’ll just disappear, like the others."

The hero’s eyes narrowed. "Where can I find him?"

The woman shook her head, her voice trembling. "You’re looking for The Pinnacle—his tower. It’s the tallest building in the Spire District. But trust me, stranger—once you step foot in his world, you’ll never leave the same."

A shadowy figure, dressed in dark clothes, stepped out of the alley behind the vendor. His face was obscured by a gas mask, but the hero could see the cold, calculating gleam in his eyes.

"Magnus sees everything," the figure muttered, stepping closer. "But if you want to go looking for trouble, it’s your funeral."

The hero stood tall, unwavering. "I’m not afraid of trouble. I’m here to stop him."

The figure smirked. "We’ll see. Welcome to Plasmora."