Drakion's eyes swept across the shattered remains, the air thick with silence and forgotten history. The once-golden city now lay broken, crumbled by time and scarred by battle. Yet as he glanced up at a cracked monument, he could still faintly read the name etched into it—weathered, nearly lost to time.
"Golden Dragon City."
Drakion could feel the aura of solemnity and sorrow emanating from the ruins as he observed them in silence.
It seems the city didn't escape either, Drakion sighed.
The city spanned between sixty to sixty-five miles in length, spiraling across the ground like a coiled dragon—only now, it resembled a wounded beast, buried in ruin.
"Let's enter," Drakion said, and they moved forward, treading cautiously into the Golden Dragon City.
As they crossed the threshold, they were met with absolute silence—unnerving, suffocating. Not even the sound of wind stirred. Drakion glanced around warily, hoping to sense if anyone else had entered this city before them.
