Deep in the fog, there was a place that didn't belong to the apartment complex.
It also didn't resemble the side mission areas that Survivors had ever set foot in. No corridors, no room doors, no System lights, and certainly none of the chaotic noise of people trying to survive.
Only a gray stone path stretching through the fog curtain.
On both sides of the path were old streetlamps, but with no flame inside. They stood still in the fog like corpses of light, their shapes remaining but their reason for existence gone.
Otrix walked along that path.
His old armor produced very small metallic sounds with each step. The sound wasn't loud, but in this space so quiet it was nearly dead, it rang out with strange clarity.
He carried no lantern.
But the fog still automatically parted before him.
Not out of fear.
But out of recognition.
