On an autumn night chilled by a cold wind, a blood-like full moon hung high above the industrial district of Brilda.
Rust-speckled containers and serpentine dark alleys were enveloped in a bizarre and bewitching red glow.
Crows slowly descended from the moon, and through the dense fog, the full extent of this vast Mafia stronghold became gradually visible—haphazardly placed dilapidated factory buildings, mountains of Magic-guided Machinery, intricate narrow passages, and the occasional rust-colored containers fading in and out of sight.
This was the port area in the southeast of Brilda.
It was also one of the few gray zones in the city.
"Sigh."
Footsteps, panting.
Suddenly, the figure of a young girl dashed around a corner, slicing through the dead silence of the night.
