Nothing had changed. That was what Lucas was thinking while walking on the streets of his home country.
His white hair was wet, but also messy. The only dry part on him were his clothes, which were proving themselves worthy of how expensive they had been to make in the labs of New City. Even his bandages were dry, with only his boots leaving trails of water which had yet to dry on the pavement.
He looked around as he walked, reacquainting himself with the changes from the last thirty years. It was normal for changes to have happened, but at the same time, the city, the country itself seemed to be the same, with the same atmosphere, with the same feeling it had always had for more than half a century.
It was the same, but now Lucas was looking at everything like an outsider, even though he was lamenting the little effect the benefits he had let pass through his fingers for the continent were showing. And he knew why things were the way they were.
