The world had withered into silence, a barren husk of what once was. Ash hung in the air like a ghost of memory. Viktor moved through it like a shadow, his cane tapping against the cracked earth, each step echoing through the emptiness.

The wasteland stretched endlessly before him, twisted remnants of the City of Progress and echoes of a time long past. He had walked this path countless times, tracing the ruins of his own failures, condemned to wander a world that refused to die.

But then… something changed.

A ripple in the air was subtle, but undeniable. Like a breath drawn in a room long sealed. A tremor in the fabric of reality itself. Viktor froze, the hum of decay broken by something unfamiliar. His grip tightened on his cane, body tense, senses sharpening. It was distant, but it was real—a pulse of life. Weak, trembling… but there.

Without hesitation, he turned toward the source, his cloak billowing behind him as his pace quickened. The wind howled across the desolation, tearing at what little remained, but Viktor didn’t falter. If life still existed in this shattered world, he had to reach it.