262. The True Name of a Beloved Angel

Beyond the city were the flower fields from that one memory. Due to the lack of transportation options, cultures and groups were allowed to thrive in complete isolation. Some didn’t even know most of the world. The outermost 2 rings were a worse version of the City of Spades, and it was a place where they witnessed books being burned by zealots, one group claiming that it was spreading falsities, and another claiming that it was a cardinal sin to preserve knowledge.

Frost and the Archivist moved through these areas, tinted in green and red, witnessing burnings and vehicles ramming through crowds. With how quickly the scenery changed, it was clear that this was indeed a memory. Of Frost’s surprisingly. Witnessing the flames disheartened him.

He couldn’t imagine how the Archivist felt seeing such a sight as she held her notebook close. Both had become invisible to the world all of a sudden, becoming observers of a distant, horrible past; they were observers of despair.

“… I was born in this place. People hated the idea of looking at things other than reality, because in truth they hated it. Books for me were my only escape. Until you came along and gave me this courage I’ll always hold onto.” The Archivist was thankful from the bottom of her heart, but also despised the fires. “Books were also stolen. I just wanted to help in some way to preserve this world we were fighting for.”

“We, huh. Are you remembering others now?”

“No. I don’t remember anyone else. Just you.”

“I see. It’s fucked up. And we’re only scratching the surface of this memory huh… if this is the first of what we’re about to see of this city, then it’s no wonder I decided to burn it down.”

“… don’t say that…” The Archivist begged. “I loved this world. No matter how badly it treated me. Because… I had someone precious here to share it with.”

“A-uh. I’m sorry.” Frost apologized. “People couldn’t talk things out, I presume. As usual. And I resorted with violence, huh. Bodies. Arms. I still don’t get it, but I can tell that we discarded many.”

“We, the discarded many, were left to live horribly. So I’m always thankful that you helped, even if we both don’t exactly remember how it happened.”

“A shame we can’t see it. I think this memory’s more focused on the city itself. A lot of it reminds me of the Nex Megalopolis.” Frost went to touch the flames, but was unable to interact with it. Observe was all they could do as they roamed the desolate streets which were set alight, and there, in the distance, she saw children and widows sitting in the center of a crossroads, forever directionless.

“You had plenty courage already if you wanted to go against all this mayhem. No one came in to help you when things went bad, I take?”

“Help? You’d be lucky where I came from. You had to hire Arms to protect you. U-um. I-isn’t that also the name of your friend?”

“My Alter self. Hired Arm. Born from the greed of civilization… Hey. Is this world really all that different from Elysia?” Frost suddenly asked, reaching out to those along the crossroads, only to have them shiver in the cold of the arriving night.

They responded to his surprise, and inched themselves away, whilst others closed their eyes, as if ready to embrace death.

… I hate this so much. So this was the world I came from. The world after Earth. I’m fucking glad that I don’t remember this.

“It is, isn’t it? There are no stars here. Elysia has stars!” The Archivist exclaimed.

“The Pillars don’t remind you of the Nexus? The landscape even looks just like Brandar’s. Besides… looking at those weapons along the walls remind me of Jury’s Retrocausality. Implying that this is the future. But also the past… fucking hell.” Frost wracked his brain.

Nav usually helped organize his thoughts, so in its absence Frost struggled to make sense of it. Where these people suffered, others around favorable parts of the city were allowed to thrive. One layer was considered a ‘goldilocks’ area, and usually consisted of family members belonging to those within the Bodies.

Further exploring this desolate city, passing by the inferno, and smoldering books, they arrived at a steampunk area filled with golden contraptions, each smothered with coagulated, slimy blood.

They found themselves within a gothic industrial complex, and these mechanical arms were undoubtably the Touch of Golds. The machines operated autonomously. The only people were the ones piled within the ore bins of a broken excavator, delivering amassed bodies to the arms.

They were snatched, many crushed by the claws as they were dragged into a blue mesh to be impaled by countless blue needles. Like a receipt holder, they were layered one by one until a stack was ready. The blue liquid was injected into them, and immediately a concoction of red and pale liquid was extracted, along with horrid screams.

The Archivist hid her face behind her notebook, all the while Frost watched, abhorred by the sight. But this confirmed his suspicions.

“Please maintain a minimum of 50 decibels.” A synthetic voice uttered from a hidden device. It was rife with static, cold, and unapologetic. “The Midas Touch will now be initiated.”

*Crush*

Those that weren’t taken by the claw were placed underneath a gargantuan, golden hydraulic press. The human batter was then shaped by another set of hands to create the currency used within the city.

Elysia had something similar. In the Frozen Springs if she recalled.

He was now convinced that Elysia and this world were one in the same.

“It’s… horrifying. People like us get churned into that. Value… is tied with people. Nothing else. But how many people…” The Archivist’s voice became raspy, prompting Frost to embrace her. “D-does it take… to value someone ‘higher’?”

“… none. It should be none, but it’s thousands here… Here. Elysia. No one seems to care at all. I don’t understand. Why tie in the value of coins with people? Mercenaries perpetuate this cycle, going against principles for the sake of riches and prestige.”

Frost deeply lamented, feeling something within his chest unlocked at the sight of the nightmarish process.

“The outcome was all people cared for, huh. Do you think if people knew where these coins came from, they’d stop using them? No way. Can you really fight against such systems in this world?”

He pondered on this thought as a desire to burn everything down steadily grew. The illusion of the Touch of Golds was temporary. But there existed deeper connotations behind the meaning of greed than just those machinations.

Suddenly, as they trudged through the industrial complex of nightmarish lack of empathy, they entered a dark tunnel. Along the other end they, much to their surprise, found themselves near the base of the Pillar of the World.

And there, they saw someone waving wildly at them, with a giant, fluffy tail waving like a giant swaying tree. Nearly all sources of anguish disappeared from Frost’s heart as a fond smile crept across his face.

Those ever-familiar golden eyes told him that everything was ok.

“_____~! And you too _____!” A certain dark-skinned Angel rushed down to them from a flight of concrete steps.

From her hair color to the eyes and her skin; this person was identical to the same person he loved the most.

This was undoubtedly Jury.

And when Frost called out her name, she made a quizzical face.

“Jury? It hasn’t been two months and you’ve already forgotten my name!” She lunged at them both, embracing them with arms and her beautiful tail as wings sprouted from her back, enveloping the world with beautiful, pale feathers.

Poking Frost’s cheek with a finger, she pouted cutely and giggled. She took a step back after sniffing their scent, somehow drooling as she caught the savory smell of something tasty.

She was… as energetic as Frost remembered Jury to be back in Elysia, and it caused him to smile from the bottom of his heart. Wiping her drool away, Jury placed both hands on her hips, staring at the pair before letting loose a long sigh.

“You really did forget, huh? What are you, an android? Memories aren’t fuel for people like us, you know!” Jury joked. “I shouldn’t be making that joke when your caretaker was one. Well… listen close this time, ok? I know things are difficult now, but let’s do our best! All of us! Don’t forget it because I won’t be telling you next time!” Jury brought her mouth close to their ears, wrapping an arm around each of their necks as she uttered her true name.

“It’s Elysia!”