The Capital City of Aethelgard did not sleep. It didn't even blink.

  Elias stood at the edge of the massive, open gates, staring up at the skyline. It was night, but the city was brighter than noon.

  Massive crystal streetlamps glowed with neon-pink and acid-green mana. Floating carriages zipped overhead on rails of humming light.

  Banners advertising "Potion Sales" and "Arena Tickets" projected themselves into the sky in fifty-foot-tall illusionary letters.

  It looked like a circus run by children who had found a box of fireworks.

  "It is..." Elias struggled for the word. "...vibrant."

  He hated it. He missed the dark. Darkness was quiet. This city screamed at his retinas.

  "It is the jewel of the modern world," Rylus said, though he looked nervous. He adjusted the hood of his cloak. "Sir, we have a problem. The gate."

  Elias looked at the entrance. There were no guards checking papers. Instead, there was a massive archway made of humming white metal. Everyone who walked through it was bathed in a brief flash of blue light.

  "A Mana Scanner," Rylus whispered. "If you walk through that, the alarms will sound. You radiate more ambient mana than the sun. They will think a dungeon boss is invading."

  Elias frowned. "I can suppress my aura."

  "Can you?" Rylus asked. "Or will you accidentally turn the scanner into a black hole?"

  "I have control," Elias lied.

  He stepped into the shadow of a wall. He needed to be small. Unnoticeable. A shadow in the crowd.

  He focused on his core. He visualized a dimmer switch. He pulled his mana inward, wrapping it tight around his soul, creating a shell of absolute nothingness.

  .

  He exhaled.

  The air around him went cold.

  "There," Elias said. "I am suppressed."

  He turned to Rylus.

  Rylus made a noise that sounded like a strangled cat. The Knight took a step back, his eyes bulging.

  "Sir," Rylus squeaked. "You... you look like a hole in reality."

  Elias looked down at his hand. He couldn't see it. He couldn't see his robes. He couldn't see anything.

  He was a human-shaped silhouette of Vantablack standing in the dimly lit alley. Photons refused to bounce off him. He was absorbing the streetlights.

  "I am unobtrusive," Elias argued.

  "You are terrifying!" Rylus hissed. "You look like the avatar of death!"

  Rylus looked around frantically. He spotted a street vendor selling festival wares. He ran over, slapped a coin on the counter, and ran back.

  He shoved a string into Elias’s void-hand.

  "Here," Rylus said. "Hold this."

  Elias looked up.

  Floating above his head, tethered to his hand of absolute darkness, was a bright yellow balloon with a smiley face painted on it.

  He looked like a cosplaying death reaper, but a poorly done one.

  "This is undignified," Elias noted.

  "It makes you look... festive," Rylus lied. "Just walk fast."

  They walked toward the archway. The crowd parted.

  People didn't scream, but they stepped aside, their eyes sliding off Elias’s form as if their brains refused to process the walking void holding a balloon.

  They stepped through the scanner.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  The blue light washed over Rylus.

  It beeped.

  The light hit Elias.

  It didn't reflect. It fell into him and vanished.

  The machine whirred. Gears clicked. It tried to read a mana signature and found... . Absolute zero.

  A reading that shouldn't exist.

  The machine hiccuped. A small puff of smoke came out of the control panel. The light turned off.

  Elias walked through.

  "Broken," a guard muttered, whacking the side of the archway. "Piece of junk. Keep moving, people!"

  Elias floated the balloon over to a crying child on the other side of the gate, released the string, and melted into the crowd.

  They needed a safehouse.

  Elias had a destination in mind.

  In the Third Era, he had frequented a small, quiet study-lounge on the edge of the Scholar’s District. It was called .

  It had soundproof walls and excellent scones.

  He led Rylus through the neon nightmare of the main streets, down winding cobblestone alleys that felt refreshingly old, until they found the building.

  It was still standing. The timber frame was warped, the stone worn smooth.

  But the sign had changed.

  Madame Gable’s House of Curiosities & Relics of the Dark Age

  Elias stopped.

  "The Dark Age," he repeated.

  "That's... what they call your era, Sir," Rylus mumbled.

  Elias pushed the door open. A bell jingled.

  The inside was a clutter of dust, velvet drapes, and shelves packed with junk. It smelled of lavender and roses.

  Elias walked down the aisle.

  He picked up a stick painted with silver glitter. The tag read:

  It was a broom handle.

  He picked up a heavy, leather-bound book titled .

  He opened it.

  "This is a cookbook," Elias whispered. "For pies."

  He felt a hollow ache in his chest. It wasn't the sharp pain of grief he had felt at Arion's statue.

  This was a duller, more humiliating ache.

  They had turned his life into kitsch. They didn't remember the fear of the Calamity. They didn't remember the sacrifices. They only remembered the merchandise.

  He wondered if he should be offended or relieved. Being a souvenir was safer than being a monster. But it hurt more.

  "Welcome! Welcome to the past!"

  An elderly woman bustled out from the back room. She wore purple robes covered in fake stars and enough jewelry to anchor a ship.

  Entity:Class:Level:Inventory:

  "Looking for power?" Gable crooned, eyeing Elias’s hood (he had dropped the void-spell, returning to his pale, normal form). "I have a ring worn by the Sorceress herself! Only 2,000 gold!"

  "It is brass," Elias said, glancing at the ring case. "And the Sorceress wore platinum."

  Gable’s smile faltered. "A skeptic! I love a skeptic. Behold!"

  She pointed to a pedestal in the center of the room. On it sat a cracked, dirty teacup.

  "The Tea-Set of the Last Archmage!" Gable declared dramatically. "Found in the crater of God's Fall! Legend says he drank from this the very moment the world ended!"

  Elias stared at the cup.

  It was a flower pot. It had a hole in the bottom.

  "That," Elias said, his voice trembling slightly, "is for petunias. And it is a reproduction."

  "Heresy!" Gable gasped, clutching her pearls. "That is priced at five thousand gold! If you are not buying, get out!"

  Elias turned away. He couldn't look at it. He felt tired.

  His eyes drifted to the top shelf behind the counter.

  Sitting there, covered in dust and cobwebs, was a metal sphere the size of a melon. It was dull gray, with a single glass lens on the front.

  The tag read:

  Elias froze.

  He knew that sphere.

  It wasn't a paperweight. It was a Sentry Drone (Model 4)

  "That," Elias said, pointing. "I want that."

  Gable sniffed. "The ball? Useless junk. Doesn't even roll straight. ten gold."

  Elias reached into his pocket. He pulled out Rylus’s coin purse (which he had commandeered). He put ten gold on the counter.

  He reached up and took the sphere.

  It was cold. Heavy.

  Elias tapped the lens.

  "Wake up, 74," he whispered. "Shift ended."

  Whirrr... click... click.

  Command Valid.

  [Booting up…]

  The sphere vibrated. Dust shook off its casing. A blue light flickered to life behind the lens.

  [Booted Successfully!]

  The drone floated out of Elias’s hands. Anti-gravity engines, dormant for three centuries, whined to life. It hovered at eye level. The lens scanned Elias’s face.

  Scan Complete. Identity Verified. Welcome back, Grand Archivist.

  The drone let out a happy, mechanical trill. It spun in the air, extended a small metal arm, and patted Elias on the cheek.

  "Impossible," Madame Gable whispered.

  Her eyes rolled back in her head. She fainted.

  Rylus caught her before she hit the floor. "Sir? Why did the paperweight just pet you?"

  "It is Unit 74," Elias said softly. The drone hovered by his shoulder, nuzzling against his ear like a metallic cat. "He missed me."

  Gable groaned. She blinked her eyes open. She looked at the floating metal ball. She looked at Elias—the pale skin, the glowing eyes, the casual command of lost technology.

  She didn't scream. She started to weep.

  "My grandmother..." Gable sobbed, clutching Rylus’s arm for support. "She told me stories. She said the machines were dead. She said they would only sing for the Masters."

  She struggled to her feet. She walked to the front door. She flipped the sign to CLOSED

  She turned back to Elias, tears streaking her makeup.

  "They are hunting a Heretic," Gable whispered. "Every guard in the city has a description. But you... you aren't a Heretic."

  She bowed, low and clumsy.

  "You are history."

  Elias looked at the drone purring by his head. He looked at the fake artifacts filling the room.

  He had returned to the capital of the world. He was surrounded by millions of people. And the only thing that recognized him was a metal ball that used to clean the toilets.

  "I suppose," Elias said, scratching the drone's casing, "that will have to do."

  Status UpdateCurrent Mood:Rylus Loyalty:New Pet:Safehouse: