It had been two long days since you had claimed this destroyed shell as his sanctuary amidst the urban decay. The air hung heavy with the weight of neglect, thick with the mingled scents of grime, dust, and the acrid tang of old blood. The place was a testament to disrepair, yet to you, it was a meager haven, a fleeting respite from the unrelenting harshness of the world outside.

The lower sections of the order were where the detritus of society accumulated, an unending parade of discarded refuse and the shattered remnants of failed lives. One could not traverse these streets without the sickening crunch of some unfortunate creature's bones beneath one's boots, or the cloying stench of rotting flesh assailing one's nostrils. It was a place best avoided, unless the cruel hand of fate demanded one's presence. You'd be worked to the bone, just to gain something that one could easily acquire at the top.

Yixuan clutched a tattered sack, its contents a pitiful assortment of stale bread and fish that had long since surrendered their freshness. "If this is what passes for rations, it's a bleeding joke," he muttered, his voice dripping with contempt. "Fucking bastards." He had toiled for days, pouring his sweat and hard work into a system that cared not for his efforts, only to be rewarded with this meager, putrid feast.