With the advent of the dark fog, humanity was forced to live inside safe havens known as Domes. It was a name derived by the gigantic domes rising above some of the only habitable spaces left to humanity in this world.

From a distance, one would believe these Domes to be crafted from a translucent crystalline substance. It was only when one drew closer would they realise that it was instead woven from a multitude of intertwining branches all originating from one sole pillar like structure located at the centre, the Acacia.

The Acacia and the Dome it supported gave onlookers an undeniable sense of sturdiness, safety and peace, as if it could withstand countless storms. It was for this reason that both gained another name - humanity's shield - for it was the only thing overhead that was keeping the the humans out of the reach of the creatures hiding within the fog.

These were the reasons why Atlas refused to believe that what was currently in front of him was a piece of that exact same shield.

"Huh?!" - a small unintended mutter escaped from his lips.

The shock he felt delayed his response and some time passed before he moved to inspect the piece of Dome that had fallen from the sky.

*Kshhh*

A touch was all it took for it to crumble into woodpile, a mere caress. - "....!?" - A chilly touch caressed Atlas's back and he rapidly commited to detail the state of the remains, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Some pieces within the remains were dried out, their surface rough, filled with cracks and sharp splinters whilst some other pieces were rotten and swollen, with fungi burrowing deep within; all were discolored, blackened. The latter Atlas recognised as a courtesy of the dark fog, which was creeping its way inside the Dome from holes up in the sky, similar to the ones created when this piece of "woodpile" had broken from it.

It had only been a short time since the dark fog had started settling inside the Dome so Atlas could still see his destination from all the way from the gates, a pillar so big that it felt as if it was holding the sky - those in this era, those who had never seen the sky had no problem believing so - the tree of life: Acacia.

Seeing as it had the same sickly colour as the ash left in his hand from touching the woodpile, feelings of uncertainty clouded Atlas's mind.

With no time to amble, Atlas looked around and soon he found what he was looking for, one of the steel tracks making the Dome's system of trams.

At its heyday - even just half a month ago perhaps - the port behind him would have seen ample use, with multiple trams entering and leaving the facilities, either to refuel or take people on or out board.

"Some of the trams might even still have enough juice to get me all the way to the capital" - to lull on soft cushions and to take a much deserved nap, it was a tempting thought, but it was a risk that he could not take.

It was too conspicous, too loud. Atlas knew that he would be ambushed by monsters the moment he so much as stepped foot inside the capital of the Dome if he did so and that wasn't counting those from the outside that would follow him all the way there.

"What would I not to do for a moment of rest..." - It had been a fair while since he last laid down on top of a soft matress - "Would it hurt to rest for a couple days? I didn't even get to see Lily before leaving Duskae...."

- That damned slave labourer of a master - Atlas cursed under his breath as he approached the tracks. Subsequently, he joined his feet together in salute and the moment he did so, stygian beads appeared beneath his boots.

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Atlas knew that muttering was all he could do to show the frustration he was feeling - pathetic, of course, but he recognised that he'd never have the balls to say these words (and all of the myriad curses that he was holding within) in front of the person herself.

"Yes, out of respect" - he added, feeling an urge to convince himself. - "....out of respect" - he felt the need to repeat.

The beads in his foot latched onto the tracks the moment Atlas set foot on the latter. After slightly leaning his body forward, he started gliding.

The action itself was seamless and the beads themselves produced no sound even when going at a speed faster than the average tram; he was once again forced to admit that his master was a genius.

Atlas felt the world around him pass by extremely quickly, rivers, mountains and small cities looking like a blur - he had passed by 30 districts in an hour.

Somewhere along the way, he felt the urge to feel the wind on his face but he stopped himself after remembering where it was that he currently was; this was no Dome anymore for it had been reclaimed by the Quanta, a fact that the scenery around kept reminding him.

Forests with trees streaked with moss and lichen, flowers in the middle of a spring bloom - violets and golden blossoms and dainty forget-me-nots - all replaced by cracked gray bark, lifeless shrubs and thorny brambles

- Ah.... - a small hill rose in the horizon. The tracks did not appear to swerve in any direction to avoid it so Atlas moved on, assuming that the tracks had been built through the hill.

But he was forced to reavaluate this thought soon after, for as he came even closer, an unpleasant scent intensified - it was an overwhelming blend of sulfur, iron and bile, as if disease and decay had been made tangible.

Atlas jumped off the track almost instinctually. He had done so without even bothering to deaccelerate causing him to roll on the ground; still, he was skillfull enough to do so silently and use the force to propel himself forward to hide under the shadow of a broken log.

While hidden, he assesed the hill in front of him - the body of the monster in front of him.

It appeared to be a corpse and part of him was wishing that it was. But he knew very well not to approach it; it was never bad to be cautious, more so when the adversary was big enough to be confused for a feature of the land.

From his hiding place, Atlas could make out cracks and punctures, from which a dark thick blood coagulated from, littering the creature's skin and scales. Lying slack next to this massive body was a gigantic wing similar in shape and make to that of a bat, - "it must have appeared even bigger with these unfurled. Speaking of which.... where's the other one?" - A question suggested by the bloodied stump in one of the creature's limbs.

Atlas found it half buried in the remains of a city's walls and mud.

He looked back to examine the creature's corpse then at the trail of bodies he had followed to come here. More than half of them had burns and scorch marks that had penetrated their armor and all the way to their bones.

There were a variety of creatures that characterised themselves from emitting deadly clouds of poison but there were only some with bat like wings and certainly only one that had holes on them - "A zorthulax"

Also known as Pipers due to the whistling sounds the holes within its wings made during flight.

Atlas could now understand a little bit of what had happened in this place. Influenced by this, he bowed in salute, at the soldiers that had stayed behind to confront such a calamity so that the rest could escape, before moving onwards towards the city.