267. At the Depths of the World

A gargantuan object reminiscent of the Site Core sat suspended by thick cabling in a dazzling world of black and white. It sat in the endless skies like a black moon, pierced by a pale crystalline stake that infinitely rose. Crystal offshoots branched from the stake like the thorns of a rose, taking root into the dark-steel flooring far underneath.

It was like a lonely tree in the middle of midnight. Or a seed that had sprouted.

Red sludge cascaded down from the pierced Site Core like the blood of a cracked, fertilized egg. It dripped, oozing down to form a stagnant, shallow crimson lake. The liquid was vibrant, like blood freshly harvested from an artery.

Growing along the inner walls of this vast expanse were the pale crystal clusters.

It went without saying that those were Genesis Stones.

The scenery was nothing like anything Frost had ever seen. Wonder danced with his ever-growing curiosity as he tried to make sense of what this place exactly was. The cables threw him off, instilling immense confusion as they listened to the guttural groans of machinery.

If they didn’t know any better, then they’d believe that the Site Core was alive.

Even when all was abandoned the machine continued to function; metal screaming as they walked along a long, insulated catwalk. Cables ran alongside it, and when touched, emitted a soft electrical buzz.

If one were to replace the wires with chains, then it would appear nearly identical to a Site Core. All it’d be missing was the singularity within.

Their voices did not echo in this boundless space. Every sound was dampened by soundproof material. Screams and shouts could not move beyond several meters before dying out. But strangely enough, the closer they approached, the more they heard a mechanical croak, along with the sloshing of a thick liquid.

From a distance, it looked like an artificial heart. A shell. A membrane. A cell. An embryo –

– An amalgamation of many things round. Many things that were associated with the notion of origin or life.

“It’s like a shell within a shell. H-Hey. Um. I wonder if it’s a power source for this place. M-maybe even for the city.” The Archivist commented from out of the blue, unable to remain choked by the oppressive silence.

The walkway was wide enough for the two to walk side by side. And much like the Site Core of F-H5, the object never seemed to get any closer. It felt like they were encroaching on something forbidden.

Why were Angels, Demons and the Faux Angels prohibited from trespassing into this exalted place?

“Do you remember anything from the old days? The power sources we used to use?” The Archivist followed up.

“That’s a generator? Huh… that’d explain all the cabling. But in my mind, it looks like power was routed towards it. Not from it.” Frost stated. “… what the hell can produce so much energy that they’d need to create a facility as large as this? Fission? Nuclear?”

Frost gravitated towards the two, even though they were mostly the same thing. But having seen a nuclear power plant in person and having gone through the ins and out of one, the object was conclusively too large to be fission related.

He entertained the thought of it being a generator, since there were no other dots to connect, aside from the Site Cores. Possibly even the Aberrations of Elysia. Given that the two went hand in hand in their world, it was now certain that the past Jury had disobeyed her one and only order.

Eventually, the Archivist flickered through enough pages to land on the sketches of a spherical generator.

“Fusion. We used nuclear fusion. I remember. Fusion reactors. We harvested the power of the stars in the palm of our hands before we moved to liquid mana.” She pointed out.

Frost took the notebook into his hands and studied the page. The first thing that came to mind was how the Archivist had a cross-section sketch of such a thing, to which she answered with:

“The libraries had everything. We’ve just discarded them. Before I met you, I wanted to preserve as many books as I can. If you throw the term ‘fusion’, people will think you’re talking about people getting fused with something. That did happen on occasion. But it’s actually in reference to the power we used in the past.”

“On earth, we had fusion reactors a fraction of the size of that. But they didn’t last for an hour. They weren’t exactly easy to maintain either. But one of that size would be something alright.” Frost was awed once again by the technological marvel. It was a testament of human ingenuity.

Awed, Frost’s fears mellowed. With a small sigh, he suddenly looked up into the dark, ceilingless skies.

“Do you think they’ve captured a star in there?” Frost said half seriously, referencing the message left behind by Nav, as well as how nuclear fusion was how stars operated in the first place.

The Archivist smirked, which turned into a small giggle.

“I like that interpretation. B-But…” She suddenly became gloomy again. “Aren’t you afraid that you might find something in there?”

“I can’t afford to turn my back now. If this is a core part of my memories, then there must be something to find. On the plus side, there’s bound to be clues about its connection with Elysia. They’re an Elysian Singularity. The more we know, the better.” Frost spoke, causing the Archivist to lower her gaze, both understanding and admiring that kind of courage.

Suddenly, a warm hand brushed over her head. Frost couldn’t get over how head pats were a normalized form of showing affection, but regardless, he had learned to appreciate it. Just as how the Archivist appreciated his touch.

Frost didn’t speak for a while. With the object now suddenly growing closer, he swallowed his fears and spoke from the bottom of his heart.

“I’m afraid. There’s a lot of things I regret finding out. Learning what this world was like takes a toll on your spirit. Even someone like me isn’t as invincible. I used to think I have thick skin, but I realized just how easy it is for people to dig under it.”

He began.

“Sometimes it feels like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. That’s how I feel in this body. It might sound pompous for me to say this out loud, but I think real courage is born when you can still push on in spite of the odds and fears. Haaaaah. Or is this morbid curiosity? Haha… Ah… Hey. You’ve been locked away for 300 years. What made you take that first step?”

“You.” The Archivist timidly spoke as she took her notebook back, covering her face until only her silver eyes could be seen. “I didn’t want to be hated by you. You were… one of my only friends. This was the world you tried to save. Can I ask you something? If… if you can remember… Was I a burden? Was I at least able to help you ‘save’ this world?”

Soon, they were at the metaphorical gates of the object. A pair of giant, angled doors with interlocking teeth rumbled as they approached. It was easily larger than most skyscrapers on earth. How such a massive amount of mass was manipulated completely boggled his mind.

They groaned open by their mere presence alone, causing the entire world to quake. Above, once the doors opened, a flaming great sword revealed itself embedded in the floors of a corridor made from the Genesis Stones. And resting beside it was yet another electronic, skeletal remains.

It was immune to the flames, and it seemed to be the bearer of the colossal weapon.

“… w-what happened here?” The Archivist uttered in disbelief.

“A fight maybe. That’s the same figure, right…? Is that Nav? Again?” Frost held his breath.

The blade was impossibly large, to the point where it was almost comedic. There was no doubt in his mind that the remains belonged to Nav. But why were there two? Was Nav perhaps mass produced? There was no concrete answer.

All that they knew was that it was not the flames that had stripped it of its synthetic flesh.

Frost, once again, paid a short moment of silence for her fallen friend before they navigated around the flaming blade. There were many interpretations to sieve through, but they both ultimately arrived at the only one that made sense.

“It looked like they were trying to protect something.” The Archivist spoke Frost’s mind as they moved on, approaching a light at the end of the tunnel.

“Who else other than from those who were warned to never step foot here.” Frost slowly said as they finally stepped into the light.

Surrounding them, as the light died down, was an otherworldly garden.