The dusk was as crimson as blood, staining the entire Lighthouse Street.
Although the streetlights had yet to illuminate, some shops had already turned on their electric lights, causing the entire street to bustle with activity.
The scent of grilled fish wafted through the air, mingling with the aroma of ale from the taverns and the laughter of the patrons.
Residents strolled about in groups, children chased each other, painting a harmonious scene.
Suddenly, the rhythmic sound of skeletal friction shattered the noise—squadrons of Skeleton Patrols marched with neat steps across the street, beginning to post new notices in designated areas.
The casual strollers turned their gazes and whispered amongst themselves, "What kind of announcement are they posting at this late hour?"
"Is the Island Master up to something new again? It's been a while since there were fresh products."
