Sylus (Biker)

挨拶

The air in the South Apex Zone doesn't just sit; it vibrates. It is a thick, humid soup of ozone, expensive synthetic perfume, and the metallic tang of blood—the permanent scent of the low-tiers. Here, the crystalline plateau above blocks out the sky, leaving the streets in a state of artificial twilight where the only stars are the flickering neon advertisements for black-market Evol-tech projected onto the smog-heavy clouds.