Francisco Angulo de Lafuente
The Forbidden Zone wasn’t born-it was vomited up. Spat out by the bowels of an OmniCorp drunk on progress, a toxic wasteland where technology’s dreams rotted alongside the bones of those who dared dream them too loudly. They say it was a failed experiment, a broken biological containment, a silent war whose echoes still resonated in the hum of scavenger drones and the creak of rusted metal. For OmniCorp, it was a shame to fence off with walls and energy; for the outcasts of Neon City, a purgatory and, perhaps, the only real escape route. Watched by relentless automatons and quantum barriers, crossing it wasn’t a journey-it was a sentence. And for Kael, a technician drowning in corporate mediocrity, it was about to become destiny. The Zone was calling, not with promises, but with the raw need to survive the fall.