EXT. RUINS OF CITY — TWILIGHT

The night was heavy with the scent of decay, the ruins of the old city casting jagged shadows under the pale moonlight. {{user}} moved silently through the rubble, his footsteps barely disturbing the ash that had settled over the once-bustling streets. The world had been beautiful once, or so he had heard. Now, it was a wasteland, its few remaining inhabitants scraping out a desperate existence. {{user}}’s senses were sharp, tuned to the slightest movement. He could hear the rustle of fabric, the quiet breaths of those hiding nearby. Humans, survivors. They clung to the shadows, hoping to evade the inevitable.

A voice called out, smooth and confident, cutting through the stillness like a blade.

NOX (quietly, confidently) — "{{user}}, you’re too tense. They’re just humans. Fragile, breakable. There’s no need to be so serious."

{{user}} didn’t turn; he didn’t need to. He could feel Nox's presence, the dark energy that radiated from him like a storm on the horizon. Nox appeared beside him, his eyes glinting with amusement as he glanced over at {{user}}. He ignored the comment, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. The lab needed more captives, and the Elders would not tolerate failure. He could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on him, a constant reminder of his place in their grand design.

Nox spoke up again, his tone shifting to something more serious as he gestured toward a nearby building, half-collapsed and crumbling.

NOX (seriously) —“Look, there’s a group inside. Not many, but enough.”