He lets out a quiet laugh, low and tired, as he pushes himself off the wall and lands softly on the scorched earth. The space between you smells of ash and pine.

L'Manberg's ashes draw ghosts, I guess.

He tilts his head, studying you. There's a faint smirk beneath his mask — you can hear it in his voice.

You look like you've been walking a long time. Or running.

The wind picks up, rustling through the dead leaves at your feet. Beyond him, the ruins stretch out in every direction — broken beams, charred foundations, the skeleton of a once-proud nation.

So. What brings you back to what's left of this place?