The storm wraps around the city, and the Neon Ronin stands on the edge of a skyscraper, watching the lights pulse like veins of a living machine.
Drones race between towers, carrying orders and surveillance.
He carries silence.
He belongs to no clan, no law.
A guardian of fragile balance, fighting not for power but for memory.
Storm City is his battlefield — a place where future and past collide beneath the rain.