Seung stepped through the door, and as it sealed behind him, a strange sensation swept over his body. He staggered, a wave of nausea crashing into him, like something vital had been drained from his core. His vision blurred momentarily, and he pressed a hand to his chest, trying to steady his breathing.
'What the hell was that?'
His eyes adjusted to his surroundings—a desolate wasteland that seemed like a ghost of what was once a bustling neighbourhood. The street was lined with wrecked cars, their metal frames twisted and rusted. Buildings stood in ruin, their windows shattered, walls crumbling. A few toppled lampposts and broken street signs completed the eerie scene. The remnants of homes were scattered around him—abandoned toys, overturned furniture—but no sign of life. The silence pressed in on him, heavy and unnatural, as if the place itself held its breath.