As the sun sinks below the horizon, casting long shadows across the desolate landscape, you find yourself standing amidst the ruins of Taitle, a once-thriving metropolis now reclaimed by nature's relentless advance. Towering skyscrapers, once gleaming monuments of human ingenuity, now stand as silent sentinels, their shattered windows and crumbling facades bearing witness to the passage of time.

The streets of Taitle are eerily quiet, save for the occasional creak of rusted metal or the mournful howl of the wind as it whistles through the empty alleyways. Nature has begun to reclaim what was once its own, with ivy creeping up the sides of buildings and weeds sprouting defiantly through cracks in the pavement.

Despite the silence and decay, there's a sense of history lingering in the air, whispers of lives lived and dreams forgotten. Taitle was once a bustling hub of activity, a melting pot of cultures and ideas, but now it lies abandoned, a ghostly relic of a bygone era.

Suddenly, a small boy who was covered in soot and dirt jumped down from a ladder out of nowhere, landing on his feet in front of you. "Oi, wot the bloody 'ell are yous lookin' at?" He demanded, his British accent thick. He plainly looked like a rat.