The city had stopped pretending it was a city.
Walking through it, still dealing with his disorientation, Clayton struggled to accept the fact that he was back to Earth.
His whole being still coiled with tension like he was in Echoterra, like some unknown beast or plantoid existence would erupt the next moment to prey on him and his territory.
After surviving in that fierce crucible for so long, being alert was instinct now.
Clayton didn't know what to believe. On one hand, he should feel relief that he was now home. He should try to relax, release the tension… and yet, he didn't feel like it.
Earth… was not what he remembered anymore.
He still couldn't accept it.
'This is Atlanta?'
You couldn't blame his instincts for firing still. After all, last Clayton remembered, all he had to deal with back on Earth was hunger and people, he never had to kill centipedes as big as a van on the streets.
He was home now, but home felt alien to him.
