The crumbling skyscrapers stood on the desolate wilderness like a giant covered in scars.
The walls, riddled with holes, exhaled thick black smoke, reminiscent of the fragmented spirit of the citizens of Bugra Free State.
Occasional explosions drew no attention anymore.
After all, over the past year, the residents of this settlement had already heard too much of such sounds.
This is Bugra.
Rather than calling it another Ideal City on the Wasteland, it would be more fitting to call it an enormous prison.
Though it's a bit like a hellish joke, it sounds cooler than a zoo.
Dragging their blue plasma trails, four "Viper" light transport planes roared across the sky over the southern district of Bugra City.
Sitting on the edge of the cabin, I Max Black looked at the shattered skyscrapers below, and couldn't help but click his tongue.
"Truly tragic."
Sitting opposite, "Kakarot" shrugged his shoulders, showing little sympathy for the people here.
"Trouble is self-inflicted."
