261. A Future World? A Past World?

Immediately, there were several discrepancies with Frost’s appearance. His eyes were not golden. Granted, when he arrived in Elysia his eyes weren’t either, but it was odd that the Magus, the Archetype of Hope, recognized Frost’s face. He could have sworn he mentioned something about his eyes.

So why were they red now?

Another thing was his abilities. He was, as far as he was concerned, an entirely normal human being. Aside from being able to wield flames. Frost, as he walked through the urban streets of this city studied himself along reflective windowpanes. Cars were highly limited. Transport, both public and private were utilized instead.

Busses, vans, and trains seemed to be the only vehicles around.

Funnily enough, the invention of the wheel had never lost its relevancy. The world was a blend of modern times from Earth with certain futuristic aspects. For starters, there were no electrical cables in sight. It seemed like everything functioned on some sort of wireless energy, which was revealed to be mana kept in a vibrant, pale-liquid form.

It was much like the liquid Nex, and when Frost approached a vending machine with one such transparent cylinder of fluid attached to it, he sadly realized that he could not use any of his skills. Analyze Object was out of the equation.

But the Archivist thankfully seemed to recognize it as she hurriedly flickered through the pages of her messy notebook.

“I got it! W-wait one second. It’s… here! L-Liquid mana. It’s one of the purest forms of energy.” She stated, showing Frost a diagram of a bizarre process that revolved around the extraction of mana from both objects and the living.

“From people as well?” Frost wondered, already aware of the answer.

“I unfortunately think so. This place… you really don’t remember anything. I-I mean, I don’t know as much as you might think because it’s all fuzzy to me. And maybe because this is a reflection of your experiences, not mine. B-But I can be useful as a guide too!” The Archivist began speaking in a pitiful tone, before she became suddenly upbeat, drawing winces from those around them.

Her pale dress carried various symbols much like those found along the apparel of the Librarians. Neither knew if she was a Librarian herself, but it could not have been a coincidence. The only strange part about this was –

“This is a different world, right?” Frost needed to ask again.

The Archivist stuck close, hugging her notebook timidly as she quietly nodded.

“I think so.”

“’Think’ isn’t convincing. But I don’t know much about this place to begin with.” Frost began, reaching out a hand to tap the Archivist on the shoulder, wanting to get her spirits up. “So I’ll be relying on you. It feels surreal talking to the Archivist in the flesh. I thought you were way more timid. By the way, what’s your name?”

The girl smiled lovingly and cutely nodded, just elated to be in the presence of the one person she considered her most precious friend. “… I don’t remember. I can’t recall yours too. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Don’t push yourself. Just stay close to me. If this is a memory, then we’ll be bound to find answers. Of ourselves, and whatever the hell this world was.”

* * *

They travelled along the busy streets of the city. The roads were shared by vehicles in this place, and they seemed to speed up when they noticed Frost’s presence. Within these buses or vans were either what appeared to be civilians, and in other cases heavily armed individuals, donned in what appeared to be lethal riot gear.

He had a feeling that this city wasn’t as friendly as it seemed. The faces here were a mixed bag too. No one seemed truly happy. One half of the population frowned and grunted, the other seemed too overtly happy, as if they were on some sort of drug.

The concrete towers were repetitive and colored with an odd green hue. It was impossible to tell apart apartments from offices, aside from the ground floors which made it obvious what the building was intended for.

Haphazard best described their placement. It was an urban, modern sprawl with very slight futuristic additions. Rather, it felt like the world was in a state where it had rapidly advanced, hence why things seemed so… disconnected and out of place. Very few buildings were unique, and in this place, it was the far and few libraries that existed here.

“Dark skies with a blue glow. You can barely see the accretion disk. Days coated in blue lights. Nights thrusted into a long darkness. So this… is a world without a sun or moon in the sky.” Frost spoke to himself, verbally describing the world as he saw it as if trying to jog his memories.

But alas, nothing returned. It was only the Archivist who seemed to quickly adapt to this world, fondly smiling at the scenery… even though it felt like a purgatory to Frost.

The sensation of walking down these narrow streets was indeed familiar. Even the inhabitants, who were a mix of Demi-humans and other races roamed about.

Strangely enough, however, there were no pure-blooded humans in sight. Was that perhaps why he gathered all manner of stares? When he tried to gain their attention, they simply speed up or avoided him at all costs. Before long, the streets were emptied.

It didn’t help that he also felt oddly disorientated being in this body. After being a woman for so long, having something between his legs again was rather… unpleasant. He couldn’t believe that he preferred being in his female body, especially with how much less bulky it was.

Regardless, maneuverability was not an issue. He felt like if the situation arose, then he’d be able to take swift action. Having fought for so long Frost had developed a combat mindset, caring more about battle than what he preferred.

Realizing this, Frost filled his lungs with a loud inhale, startling the Archivist.

“Haaaaaaaaah. It smells like a city alright. It’s sort of suffocating in a way. Advertisements aren’t for products either. Hey. Is it normal for people to openly hire mercenaries?” Frost couldn’t help but notice a billboard reading, “Join now to protect your family from malpractices! Local Arms are hiring NOW!”

It was accompanied by an uncensored, vivid depiction of people being drained by countless needles, and a montage of others being compressed into coins. The reality was horrid, made worse by how people would glance up at it and continue moving forward, knowing well that there was nothing they could do.

Ironically, right beside them was another billboard reading: “Have the skills? Undervalued? Need an aspiration? Join a Body to fight the cruelty of the Arms and to advance our civilization past its darkest age. Become the light! Strive to join the Pillar of the World!”

It was obnoxious propaganda, and in the photo accompanying it was the same image used by the other, save for the portrait of a faceless human wearing black, militaristic garbs, extending an arm out as though reaching for people beyond the image.

Frost was not the person in the image. But the apparel stuck to him, and he wondered if that was the reason why people were so afraid of him. Confused, they stood around in the vacant streets, seeing curtains move as people watched like there was a monster just beyond their doors.

“… Frost… I-I recall a bit of who you are. You were a predominant figure. Someone who fought a lot. Don’t think too much about them! T-they mean well, I promise!” The Archivist said, tugging Frost’s sleeve like a lost child. “I used to be like that too. Always watching from inside, afraid of everything beyond.”

“Is that why you indulge in books?” Frost asked, ignoring the stares.

“Y-Yes! Books. And… I also wanted to record everything. Mostly because of you.” The Archivist accidentally bumped her head against Frost’s chest. She softly apologized as shutters immediately closed, as if people expected Frost to eliminate her on the spot.

Just want kind of things did people witness outside their doors?

Instead, Frost gently placed a hand onto the Archivist’s head.

“Don’t be so formal around me. I know I’m the Amalgam, but I really don’t bite. C’mon. Let’s go. Do you know what they mean by Arms, Bodies and Pillars of the World, by the way?”

“Somehow I feel like hearing those words from you sound wrong.” The Archivist sheepishly said, but she accepted the generous act. Flicking through her notebook, she arrived at a page dedicated to them. “Mhm! Vaguely!”

* * *

The city itself was one continuous sprawl but was separated into multiple sub cities each governed by a Body. Bodies were entities larger than Ateliers, holding a Pillar of the World that built the city into what it was, for better or worse. The intricacies of the city itself were unknown to them. All they knew was that it was rife with issues, following the same themes of the Civilization Corrupted.

Arms were more akin to Ateliers, holding minor technologies which was a coin toss whether they were used for good or bad. They were called Arms because their members and owners would either wield or become physically molded with their miraculous technology, making them high-priority threats or valuable assets depending on their nature.

They were essentially Beholders. Most Arms stemmed from a Body. Frost’s black apparel was identical to theirs, which suggested that he must have been in a similar position to them. Just without a technology of his own.

There were multiple tiers of society. The lowest of the low were outcasted into the world beyond the reach of the main Pillar of the World, which resided in the center of the City. It rose to the skies like a miniature version of the Nexus. The scale was surprisingly tiny, but due to the near universal flatness of the city it became visible even thousands of kilometers away.

It was a pale, emphatic light, similar to that of the Piece of the Fallen Star. It was the sun in this sunless world, and at night, the moon. Frost, due to his apparel, was recognized as a member close to the Pillar and was allowed unrestricted access throughout the City.

There were indeed mountain ranges and natural landscapes still preserved. These were found in the inner parts of society. The city was split into 7 rings, each separated by great walls armed to the teeth with all manners of weaponry.

Cannons larger than buildings were fitted onto them, as though they were fighting beasts larger than life itself. These things were made of a blend of pale and black metal. The pale was undoubtably the same thing found on the Nexus, and in Jury’s magic.

The Corrupted came to mind, but the Archivist argued that she didn’t remember things like the Corrupted existing, but at the same time questioned her memories.

Each ring, beginning from the outer to the inner, saw an increase in the quality of life for its inhabitants. One such quality they found was meat. The inner parts of the city had real meat, but those in worse areas had all manners of undiscernible cuts of meat.

They were not human. Frost had unfortunately learned the taste of it, so she could tell right away. But it was eerily close, and for some reason, the irony taste reminded him of… himself in a way.

That aside, issues arose as one moved higher in society. There existed expectations that should never be broken, as well as standards. Aspirations were quelled in this place, as people worked for the Bodies. In a way, those unaffiliated could be seen to have a greater amount of freedom.

Greed prevailed in the outer regions by Arms, as well as conflict, kidnappings, and all other manners of atrocities. The more valuable a person… the more coins that could be generated, as well as magic which could be stolen.

The weapons along the walls were significantly weaker and less abundant. Standing along the rims of the 5th wall, feeling the breeze and staring into the singularity eating up the skies, Frost noticed anti-air weapons stationed across the city, as well as no flight warnings. It was just like the Nex Megalopolis, and now that she realized it, the vast flatness of the land was eerily similar.

Along the walls were the inscription of but one phrase.

“AIRSPACE RESERVED FOR ANGELS ONLY.”

Angels. That’s right. They existed in this world too. I wonder if Jury’s going to be a part of this memory. Maybe the Archivist… Or hopefully Nav.