Elius and his new team—Jiro the Sand Controller, Clint the Fire Bullet, Balkan the Bug Tamer, and Monkaar the Floater—walked shoulder to shoulder across the wide, dust-covered pavement of the city's outskirts, moving in a loose, but strangely synchronized line.
The rule was simple: no flight outside designated air corridors.
So they walked.
Their shadows stretched long in the morning sun, the bright light casting shimmering glares off distant metal rooftops.
The city felt louder than before, more chaotic.
Horns blared from floating taxis.
Drone vendors zipped above the crowd, advertising instant weapon upgrades and low-tier dimensional rift keys.
Elius ignored all of it.
In the middle of the walk, Clint reached into his jacket and put on a pair of neon sunglasses that didn't match anything he wore.
Monkaar adjusted the wrap around his sandals while floating an inch above the road, levitating slowly like a lazy jellyfish in a sea of asphalt.
