Tapping his metal finger against a screen embedded in his iron gauntlet, the robot projected a holographic map of the entire planet before me, his visor flickering. "It's definitely here on Idaten. The problem is, it's in the atmosphere, and the only way to reach it quietly—if we're following Sathuna's script—is still a work in progress."
The map zoomed in, highlighting a city not unlike the one we stood in. The same towering skyscrapers rose from the ground, with the tallest at the center, piercing the storm clouds above.
I raised an eyebrow in confusion. "I thought Kimaris said she found it under the festival venue?"
"Must have been a fake." Sifo Ren's robotic voice was flat, but I could hear the faint hint of approval in his tone. "It's hard to replicate the energy levels, but the harmony frequency of an Empyrean? Impossible to hide. It's like an orchestra of energy singing down to the planet from a hidden station in Idaten's orbit."
I crossed my arms, impassive, though my mind churned. "The whole planet's drowning in the aether the Empyrean's emitting. I never really noticed."
Sifo Ren expanded the holo-map, his mechanical finger tracing several key points within the city. "It's been here for years, possibly decades." He waved his hand dismissively, marking red dots on the map. "From the mini-satellite I deployed, I found the Empyrean's location—but it's moving. The pattern's the same as the defense satellite, though it could be a cover. There's no space elevator or portal, but there are these AI-piloted ships. You could hijack one, but they're manned with workers, and their timetables change randomly. If you're going to ride one, my advice is to hang onto the exterior to avoid getting caught."
Thorn groaned from where he perched on the table, his voice exaggerated. "Of course, we're going alone. I was hoping I'd get some alone time with Kimaris."
I muttered under my breath, "After your last stunt with her, I doubt the feelings are mutual." I threw Thorn an amused look before turning back to Sifo Ren. "Why is it just me and Thorn going? It's not like our favorite witch to split us apart unnecessarily."
Sifo Ren's metal gaze flickered for a moment. "According to our spy in the Enditian delegation, the envoy has been acting strange since arriving on Idaten. Hallucinations—auditory, visual... anything Wukong's powers could replicate, if needed."
I scrunched my lips, the meaning clear to me—and Sifo Ren knew it, too, but he was waiting for me to say it.
"It had to be the Empyrean with the highest resonance with [Harps Last Tune], didn't it? Sathuna's scripts always leave out the biggest details." I ran a hand through my hair, my expression relaxed despite the urgency beneath. "I'll siphon what aether I can from the atmosphere. That should hold him off for a little longer."
Sifo Ren gave a mechanical chuckle. "Sathuna hoped you'd say that." He dismissed the hologram, adjusting his wrist with a smooth motion. "We won't make any moves until the festival starts. According to her, that's the best time to strike."
"Okay..." I considered this, the silence stretching before I spoke again. "Did she have any demands for us?"
"Whether she did or not, Sathuna knows none of us would follow them." Sifo Ren chuckled warmly, his voice more human than mine at that moment. "She only said to tell you when to attack the hidden space station. Until then, what we do on Idaten is our own business."
I leaned back against the dark wall of the room, accepting this without comment. "Alright. Any good ideas?"
After a moment's processing, Sifo Ren's mechanical voice broke the quiet. "A few notable individuals from the Quest Lines newspapers have made their way to Idaten-II. They've gathered in a black district. I was considering investigating them—they had a run-in with Wukong while he was trapped in a black hole by [Hell-King: Putrefaction Archer]."
Thorn perked up from my shoulder, tapping his beak with a feather. "Yeah, Clara told us about the monkey's run-in with the Thirteenth Hell-King and some mercenaries passing through. What were they called again? Heat Wave? Warm Fart?"
"Fire Cloud," I answered, remembering. "It's the same group that the kid we babysat a decade ago is in charge of. Remember when Etrill called in that favor we owed him after what happened on Revelation?"
"Oh, yeah. The loudmouth brat." Thorn grimaced, his feathers ruffling. "I don't want to see him. Let's head the other way and hit the brothels. He's too young for them anyway."
I scoffed at Thorn's attempt at humor, and Sifo Ren circled back toward me, his metallic movements precise. "The boy's made quite the name for himself. Fire Cloud mercenaries, defying a devil, ignoring a transcendent, and surveying an unknown part of the Untamed Domain filled with priceless metals—all in the last six months. There's more, too."
"I do read the news, you know." I stared into the robot's visor, questioning his thoughts about me.
"Acknowledged. But you have three days until you need to be on that space station." Sifo Ren's tone was firm. "It would be less concerning if you let your Ink-Spirits handle the task, but knowing you and Thorn, it's likely you'll head there after we finish talking."
"We won't deny the possibility," Thorn grinned wryly. He knew me well. "Did Sathuna give you anything to keep us occupied for three days until the festival begins?"
"There's a historical lecture and/or puppet show being held for two days starting tomorrow," Sifo Ren replied, as though this was a grand suggestion. "I found a pamphlet in the space-port. It's about when your kind broke out of Archon Hold sixty millennia ago."
"And/or?" I raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? That's ancient history. Only the Kralscell's would still be talking about this. The only Kralscell's alive from that day are four. Including myself."
Sifo Ren shrugged, unbothered. "Whoever told the historian has probably done so to put themselves in a good light. But you should go. Sixty-thousand years of lies, and you get to verify them as someone who lived through two-thirds of it and was indisposed for the last third."
I exhaled, accepting the challenge. "Alright. We'll see what they have to say. Not like threes anything else for me to do without causing trouble."
After patting my coat's shoulder with his metal hand, Sifo Ren opened the door and walked out into the drenched city, rain immediately pouring over his iron body. He shut the door behind him and vanished into the streets.
Left alone with Thorn in the dim room, I sighed. "It'll be interesting to see another perspective on history."
Thorn groaned loudly. "Come on~. We lived those years. I don't want to see some asshole berate me for it!"
The next day...
'I can't believe I agreed to this.' Thorn sulked mentally as he slumped across my shoulders, trying to hide in the furry hood of my autumn-patterned black long coat.
As we ascended a stone staircase, I passed by alien groups from across the galaxy—humans with their families, insectoid species covered in rags, lesser demons, elves, dwarves, therianthropes, and even giants shaking the ground with their steps. even a merman wearing a helmet full of water.
'Can't you just let me go and let one of the others pester you?' Thorn whispered, his thoughts filled with mischief.
If I leave you unsupervised, we'll both get an earful from the others, I thought back.
'Touché.' Thorn leered up at me from my shoulder. 'Not like you're any better without me. Your insanity and my cockiness cancel each other out somehow.'
Hence why I said we'd both get an earful, I responded, the banter familiar.
At the top of the stone staircase, I looked up at the holographic sign glowing above the door. [Doctor Istorija's History Seminar and Puppet Show on the Kralscell's!]
"...There really is a puppet show, like Sifo Ren said," I muttered, taken aback for a moment before a woman bumped into my side.
"It's interesting, isn't it?" she remarked, gazing up at the sign. "So many people know about the Kralscell's, but no one really knows what they are."
I eyed the woman curiously, wondering her intentions. She turned to me, continuing the conversation.
'She's pretty hot looking,' Thorn muttered in my mind.
[Skill: Astral Third Eye – Scanning Target]
I focused my aether sense on the woman and quickly assessed her. A mage, nothing particularly special, though skilled in earth magic. A seasoned novice, but no match for a true master. Just a second ring sequencer.
"Ah, sorry for approaching you so suddenly. My friends don't seem to appreciate ancient history as I do." She smiled apologetically.
"It's fine." I showed a fake smile, aiming for amiability. "I go by Traveler, usually. You here for the seminar, miss?"
"Quinella," she replied smoothly. "Quinella Ravice, a witch and mage. I'm a wandering mercenary. Since you call yourself Traveler, you must be a worshiper of the Kralscell of Sentience, from the Shattering Faith? Pleasure to meet you."
"Well then." I gestured with my bandaged right hand toward the entrance. "Shall we, Quinella?"
"We shall." Quinella smiled back at me and stepped inside the building with me.
Inside, the space resembled a museum more than anything else, with relics spanning thousands of years of ancient history. Quinella was immediately captivated, darting from exhibit to exhibit, her enthusiasm infectious. I followed at a more leisurely pace, eager to see everything, just not at her level of urgency.
"This tablet is written in Slavmanri! To think the text is preserved so well," Quinella babbled excitedly as we passed a display. "This is one of the few traces left of a world that the Kralscell's destroyed. These are as rare as diamonds, considering how the CGA prohibits entry to upended worlds and pantheons."
We continued down the halls, with Quinella explaining every artifact we encountered. She detailed the way these objects had survived the apocalyptic wrath of their original homes, as well as the CGA's recovery efforts on worlds no longer capable of supporting life.
"This... I don't recognize this one." Stumbling onto a piece of art, Quinella studied it from every angle, trying to place its origins.
"Aztirinos," I offered. Quinella turned to me, her eyes wide with surprise.
"How do you know this?" she asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and admiration.
"It's from a world called Aztirinos in the
Slightly embarrassed, Quinella looked at me with renewed interest. "How do you know all this?"
"I'm well-travelled," I replied whimsically. "Shall we continue our tour?"
With a nod, Quinella resumed her exploration, eagerly leading the way. The museum was filled with more tablets, long-forgotten languages, and unique coffins from extinct civilizations, each one telling a story of a lost time.
As we walked through the halls, a strange feeling washed over me, one that Thorn noticed but couldn't quite name. Oddly enough, I felt no stirring in my heart—just a strange emptiness that I had come to accept. Perhaps it was nostalgia for the passage of time.
Finally, we reached the theatre, which was already packed with hundreds of attendees, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of TV cameras set up on the stage. We were lucky to find two seats near the door, and, ever the gentleman, I let Quinella choose first before sitting down next to her.
"Ladies, gentlemen, and species of varying races across the connected galaxies, thank you for coming today!" An energetic but elderly woman's voice boomed through the room, silencing the crowd instantly. A woman with short green hair, glasses, and a moth-embroidered lab coat stepped onto the stage. "My name is Saphire Istorija, and for the next two days, I will tell you all the true history of the Kralscell's, from their great emergence sixty-thousand years ago."
I recognized her soul immediately, and a wry grin tugged at my lips. "You controlling freak, Sathuna. No wonder Sifo Ren recommended I come here."
Thorn, too, recognized her instantly, his smug smile widening as he perched on my shoulder. 'The sign did say there would be puppets.'