The outskirts of the Eternal Ruins were nothing like West had imagined.
From afar, the ruins had looked ancient, solemn, almost sacred.
Up close?
It was practically a small town like a living, breathing ecosystem built around the bones of history.
Stone-paved walkways wound between rows of establishments that had clearly grown over the years. Wooden signs creaked gently overhead. Vendors called out deals. Lanterns hung between buildings, not yet lit but ready for evening glow.
The ruins loomed behind everything with massive arches and fractured towers standing silent as if watching the commercial chaos unfold at their feet.
Class 3 spilled into the area like a flock of excited tourists.
"This is insane," Darius muttered, spinning in place. "It's like a festival."
It almost was.
There were souvenir shops selling miniature replicas of broken pillars and ancient carvings. Some were clearly mass-produced, others hand-crafted.
