The harsh wind whipped against Xylar's face as he and his crew made their way through the undercity's winding streets. Neon signs flickered overhead, casting an eerie glow on the metal walkways below. The air here was thick, almost suffocating, filled with particles that seemed to coat the inside of their throats with each breath.
"Shit," Viper muttered, coughing violently. "The air here's worse than a goddamn chemical plant."
A figure emerged from the shadows of a nearby alley, their face obscured by a sleek mask with glowing green crystals embedded along its sides. The stranger froze mid-step, mask tilting as they studied Xylar more carefully.
"Well, I'll be damned," the stranger's voice came through with a metallic tinge. "The Phantom of Drakoria himself. Didn't expect to see someone of your... reputation down here."
Thunder's hand instinctively moved to his weapon, but Xylar raised a hand, stopping him.
"News travels fast," Xylar remarked dryly.
