Somewhere near the eastern border of Astoria, inside a cramped infirmary, Elias lay on a bed.
It had been almost ten days since he had survived that madness. His internal injuries were so severe that even reaching the Mythical rank hadn't done him any good; his body felt like shattered glass held together by sheer will.
He had chosen this small, unremarkable room specifically to stay under the radar. After the horrors he had witnessed, he wanted no more attention on himself than he already had.
Suddenly, the wooden door creaked open. A figure stepped inside.
The moment the person entered, the air in the room grew heavy, suffocating. Every person present, man or woman, weak or strong, collapsed unconscious on the spot. Only Elias remained awake, and even he found himself gasping for air, his lungs burning.
The figure reached his bedside. When they spoke, the voice was smooth, sounding like honey to the ears, yet it carried a deadly edge. "Where is it?"
