New Vance City

Tucked into the cracked rooftops and reclaimed superstructures of the Solar Sprawl, the Hydroponic Gardens are the lungs of the district—a cultivated miracle grown under ultraviolet devotion. Maintained by Solar Guardians and their conscripted technicians, these modular vertical farms transform gray ruin into green promise. Crops grow in stacked conduits of nutrient-rich water, fed by purified runoff and solar-powered filtration systems. The produce—mostly nutrient-dense greens and algae variants—is reserved for Guardian loyalists and trade with other factions. Dissenters don’t eat. Harvest quotas are enforced like military drills, and entire grow sections can be punished. The Gardens are more than a food source—they're leverage, symbol, and sermon. Here, radiant purity is proven not just by cleansing the infected, but by birthing sustenance from dust and discipline. Step out of line, and the next sprout won’t be yours to taste.

Rising like glass monoliths from the ruins, the Hydroponic Gardens gleam with solar-washed light. Transparent domes—reinforced with steel ribs—dot the skyline like incubated suns, each one filled with tiered racks of glowing vegetation. Lush ferns, vinebound fruit tubes, and thick mats of algae spiral upward in dizzying efficiency. Outside, Guardian banners flutter beneath solar tracking panels, their bronze silhouettes casting order over green growth. Inside, the air is a mixture of humidity, nutrient mist, and antiseptic control. Quiet irrigation pulses through synthetic roots while silent drones skim through the aisles, scanning for blight or sabotage. Light refracts across the crops in golden hues, bouncing off mirrored walls and copper pipes. In every direction, the glow of engineered life reflects the Guardians’ theology: harsh, beautiful, controlled. Even the food is a sermon here.