The massive North Gate of Science City, which had been sealed for a century, groaned as it slowly slid upward. Beyond it lay a world of rust-colored sand and a sky that never stopped bleeding orange.
"The air out here is 40% toxic," Elara said, adjusting her filtration mask. She looked back at the city, where the lights were still flickering. "Are you sure about this, Ray? We could stay. We could lead."
Ray stood at the threshold, his cloak whipping in the dry, radioactive wind. His violet-light arm pulsed with a low, protective hum, creating a small 'Clean-Zone' around them. "A king who hides behind walls is just a prisoner with a fancy title, Elara. The truth isn't in the city. It's out there, in the dust."
They stepped out, their boots sinking into the fine, metallic sand. Behind them, the gate slammed shut with a final, heavy thud.
The Wasteland was a graveyard of the 'Old Era'. Massive rib-cages of crashed sky-ships jutted out from the dunes like the bones of dead giants. Occasionally, the ground would vibrate as 'Sand-Sharks'—bio-engineered scavengers—moved beneath the surface.
"Ray, look," Elara pointed toward a jagged rock formation.
A group of figures was watching them from the shadows. They weren't cyborgs, and they weren't humans. They were 'Mutants'—their skin grey and cracked, their eyes glowing with a faint, sickly green light.
"They're called the 'Rust-Eaters'," Ray whispered, his violet hand beginning to glow. "They don't use tech. They eat it."
One of the mutants stepped forward, holding a spear made from a sharpened turbine blade. "You... carry the Mark of the Father," the creature rasped, its voice sounding like grinding stones. "But you also carry the Light of the Enemy."
"I am Ray Arkanos," Ray said, his voice echoing across the dunes. "I'm looking for 'The Origin'. Tell me where it is, or get out of my way."
The mutant laughed, a wet, rattling sound. "The Origin is not a place, Little Mage. It is a hunger. And to reach it, you must first survive the 'Dead-Zone'."
Suddenly, the ground beneath them began to liquefy. A massive mechanical worm, its body covered in rotating diamond-teeth, erupted from the sand. It was a 'Guardian-Drone' left over from the Great War—and it hadn't had a fresh soul to eat in a long, long time.