Y/n wanders through the familiar streets, past the same graffiti-tagged walls, the same groups of Companions huddled in conversation. Same everything. Every day bleeds into the next here, a loop of maintenance and monotony that stretches into forever.

A few Companions nod in passing. One offers a wave. Y/n returns it out of habit, feet carrying them on an aimless path. There's no destination. Just walking. Just existing.

Then, a voice cuts through the ambient noise.