Deep within the ruin, far beyond the crystal-veined plains and the wandering silhouettes of the infected, the strange building stood in silence.
It had no windows.
No doors that could be seen from the outside.
Yet its interior existed.
The air inside was thick, and within that chamber, laughter echoed.
It spread through the room, and at the center of the chamber lay a figure.
The body was still.
The eyes were open. Unfocused. Around the fallen figure stood several others.
They formed a circle, evenly spaced, their posture upright, their heads tilted slightly downward as if observing something sacred.
None of them spoke.
Their faces were calm. Empty.
Beneath their skin, faint distortions shifted.
"After hundreds of years, my dream of leaving this damn place is finally close."
The voice did not come from a mouth. It came from the air itself.
The figure on the ground twitched faintly, fingers curling and uncurling without direction.
The voice lingered, tasting the moment.
