Late at night.
West State City, draped in silence, resembled a dead city, except for the sparse lights flickering in District Four, where the lake had overflowed.
Inside a crudely built sentry post, Grey Dog, wrapped in beast skin, yawned and tossed a damp log into the fire pit before languidly strolling over to a lookout hole.
Although the weather had grown warmer in April, the air in West State City remained chillingly damp.
Especially in District Four.
The entire district was submerged in water.
Not far off, in the streets, the water glistened, dark blobs floated on the surface, indiscernible whether they were rotting wood tangled in algae or the shells of Crack Claw Crabs.
Despite the numerous unchanging aspects of life here, it remained the prime location for setting up camp.
The backflow of lake water paralyzed all the underground facilities in the area, eliminating worries about the elusive Guerrilla Team.