Kathmandu, an ancient city with a history of twelve hundred years, lay on the southern slope of the Himalayas. Shielded from the cold northern winds by this natural barrier and greeted by warm currents from the Indian Ocean to the south, it enjoyed brilliant sunshine and blooming flowers year-round. Travelers from around the world praised it as a "paradise in the mountains."
Viewed from above, the city was covered in neatly packed, layered ancient temples and towering palaces. Exquisite stone carvings, spires, and Buddhist statues filled every corner, while traditional brick-and-stone buildings stretched as far as the eye could see, steeped in an enduring antique charm.
The winding, narrow streets often carried the strong scent of Indian incense. Children spinning prayer wheels could be seen everywhere, along with vendors selling fruit, thangkas, and papyrus paintings, as well as countless cheap hotels and shabby restaurants with flickering lights.
The city was a chaotic blend of tradition and modernity. Numerous temples stood amid crude slums, creating a strange sense of dislocation, as though it had been split into two worlds. In the eyes of travelers, it was a religious holy land filled with red-walled temples; to the locals who lived there, it was a chaotic metropolis full of monkeys, beggars, and automobile exhaust.
Of course, that was not the whole picture of the city. If one possessed enough wealth, one could enjoy treatment fit for God even in some backward, remote African country. Kathmandu never lacked luxurious hotels or upscale shops.
When Sean withdrew the Sentinel Armor and opened his eyes again, he had already traveled from bustling New York to Durbar Square. A clamor of noise poured into his ears as passing tourists and monks draped in red robes moved by him. Ancient buildings rose and fell in the distance, with