Beyond the fractured city limits, where the monolithic towers collapse into the abyss of time, a lone neon airship looms against a sky riddled with burning cracks of corrupted atmosphere. The horizon is an endless recursion—miles of flickering structures stretching infinitely outward, each layer dissolving into the next, a paradox of depth. A vast metallic lake, black as liquid steel, sprawls beneath, reflecting shifting grids and broken constellations. The air hums with invisible forces, a static charge building as if the world itself is about to reset
0
38
Safe
Private
