In the neon-lit dystopian ruins of a the city that claimed they were the culture district of the country, where skyscrapers hum with the ghostly glow of obsolete technology, Aether was born from the decaying wires of a forgotten network hub. Once a known hub of hyper-connectivity, the city now stands as a testament to humanity's failed obsession with digital immortality. Aether, emerging from the tangled remnants of discarded data streams and severed connections, became the guardian of this digital graveyard.

Their mentors were the flickering avatars of a forgotten internet, those last echoes of a world that once thrived on endless communication but now only whispers back static and corrupted memories. Aether learned to navigate the maze of this virtual afterlife, weaving through the remnants of obsolete apps and crashed servers, collecting the fragments of humanity’s digital identity.

Their skill? Aether is a master of forgotten codes and encryption, able to unlock the lost secrets of a world that once believed in the permanence of its online existence. They carry with them the cynicism of those who know too well the dangers of a society that placed too much trust in the intangible, but they also harbor a quiet hope—perhaps there’s still something worth preserving in the wreckage of our digital dreams.

Aether crosses paths with Babel, the Misinformation Oracle more often than not, battling the chaos of twisted truths and fractured realities. They share a grim understanding of how quickly knowledge becomes noise and how easily the truth is lost in a sea of digital debris. Together, they wander the remnants of these once-great cities, each trying in their own way to make sense of the world that once was, and what little might be salvaged from it.