A green paradise stretched around Zander, his close embrace filled with lush, vibrant green. Nettles of plants brushed against his skin as he waltzed through the miniature forest around him, nuzzling into his curves like a mother gently coddling their child.
He felt warm.
Something inside of him broke as he touched his head to the ground, his forehead pushing gently into the soft, moist soil. A small dent formed in the ground where his forehead lay as he pushed deeper, searching for the warmth, like a moth to a flame. He felt himself smiling as he prostrated, an overwhelming, endearing happiness spreading throughout his psyche.
He felt at home in the soil, in the sweet, wet dirt. It was a generous gift from the world itself, given unto him, and he accepted its gracious gift with open arms. It welcomed him into its fold, embracing him, the warmth wrapped around him like a blanket, swathing him and tucking him close.
The serendipitous joy brought him to his feet, his eyes lifting in their sockets as he walked along the overgrown path which formed before him, twirling into the excess of lavish flora that stretched as far as the eye could see. He lowered the palm of his hand, turning them inwards to allow the brush of vegetation to tickle the length of his skin, as if gently kissing his hands.
He walked for minutes, perhaps hours, as he followed along the path. Time seemed to bend as he walked, speeding and slowing with each step. After a bit, he realized that it'd seem to move with his steps, speeding and slowing alongside his gait. He wrestled with the idea until the green greeted him once more, waving in front of his eyes, as if to call out to him.
And so, he followed.
Miles, he walked, walked until blisters coated the length of his exposed feet. It had long become uncomfortable, each step mired with a deep, searing pain, yet that pain was nestled away, as if pocketed from his mind. The pain that remained did not deter him, and he continued his march unto hours, if not days more. Until he found the tower.
It stretched on, far above where he could crane his neck. It seemed to disappear into the sky above, forming a solid, overpowering line into the heavens. Even as he strained his head upwards it did not find an end, and there was no limit to its length. He tentatively stepped towards it, his mind afloat with the vibrance of color that surrounded him.
Crrrrrack!
As he stepped forward, the tower suddenly split in two.
A jagged, harsh edge cut through the tower from top to bottom, splitting it in half. Its sides fell away slowly, the tower slamming to the ground, shaking Zander off of his feet. He struggled to keep his balance, but the sight of such an event kept his eyes glued to where the tower once stood, ignoring the falling, quaking shudder of the ground as the tower continued to fall. A large, overwhelming tree stood broken and battered where the tower once stood, its dead branches unfolding across the sky, forming a massive, unbroken canopy of broken leaves.
Despite its death, the tree still glowed with vibrance. Forming a wave of deep, unending red, orange, and yellow, the tree began to wilt, its horde of leaves falling gently to the ground, coating the entire forest in its blanket of color. The massive trunk, bigger than an entire complex, if not a city, began to wither away, pieces slowly beginning to fall away from its gigantic structure.
One
Two
Three
More and more began to fall, until finally all that remained of the former beauty was nothing but ash and dust. A small mountain of wooden chippings and splinters fell upon the ground, piling higher than even a skyscraper, until, in just a few moments, it began to blow away.
A large gust of overpowering, shuddering wind whisked its way through the forest, the trees bending with effort as they strained against the sudden storm. The ash and wood began to billow in the wind, trailing through the air as it twirled with seemingly gleeful freedom.
Zander pushed back against the wind, taking a step towards where the tree once stood, before managing to take another, and then another. He pushed with all of his might, his muscles straining with effort as he fought for every step, pushing himself past his limits. He forced himself to inch closer, his mind enveloped in the overwhelming idea of its lush remembrance, of the trees that followed behind him, trying to hug him close.
Once he crested the last, final hill which revealed the origin of the great tree, there was… nothing. He frowned internally, his eyes straining to catch sight of hopefully something, but there simply wasn't anything to find. The mountain of ash and dust was gone, thrown into the wind, yet not even a reminder of what once remained.
Until he saw it.
A small movement pierced the corner of his eye, and he quickly swiveled his head towards its direction. A small string of roots rose from the ground, gently molding together, twisting around each strand as it formed a collective, larger shape. Zander didn't understand just how long it took to finish, however the end result was something out of his imagination.
A small, yet still enlarged sprout flowered from the ground where the union occurred. It blossomed openly into the air, spilling forth a set of beautiful, green petals which fluttered around like butterflies in the wind. Small tufts of leaf picked into the air, swirling around the forming plant as it shone upon the landscape like a spotlight in water.
How beautiful…
Zander startled awake, his scratched back skidding across the length of the carpeted ground, its familiar, grimy texture filling his senses as adrenaline began to rush into his head. He groaned, opening his eyes, only to see the familiar, ugly yellow landscape around him, forming back into reality. His mind still felt the whisper of the grass on his feet, the comfort of the warmth of the sun on his skin. His mouth wet at the thought of flowing waterfalls, or rapidly gushing rivers, sights which he could potentially never see again.
His hand drifted behind his pillow, where the hilt of his sword lingered. He gripped it tightly, before releasing his estrangement of the blade, caressing its length gently with his fingers, before finally pulling the scabbard from its hiding place.
Getting dressed, he quickly prepared himself in his typical gear, the sporting leather armor accustomed to the scouts, alongside a few potions and items from Johann's shop. Turns out, most of the business in the area would always be conducted by a SkyCorp. employee, and Johann was the man to turn to when it came to medical goods. He had at his side a set of three health and stamina potions, each of which cost him a full day's worth of essence. Despite his active participation in exploration missions, there wasn't a lot of monster fighting to do these days, so his essence collection was quite low. Still, having these supplies on hand made him feel much safer being in the line of combat.
He coughed into his fist, clutching the side of the bed he'd slept upon, his eyes falling towards the ground, where he'd been laying before.
I fell over again?
Alas, this was not the first time in recent days that he'd found himself on the floor in the morning. It had grown ever more common since the secession of more than half of The Garden's territories on the floor, accompanying the underlying, skin-crawling feeling of dread that emanated from thinking about those day's events. He had been relaxing with Logham on his day off, his mind free from the worry of death, or the loss of any more loved ones, until the news properly broke.
"Fuck me…" he whispered under his breath, careful so that his neighbor didn't hear him. Despite being placed in the military quarters of Hope, their newer set of headquarters, he never liked the idea of people overhearing him. It had only been a few days ago, but it all felt like a blur. The secession, the riots, the open fighting in the Olympia complex, it all felt overwhelming, like a tsunami approaching him, unable to be changed.
He felt angry. Not at the world, or at Sarah, or even the rebels themselves, he just felt this deep, underlying anger that couldn't go away. Like a pit in his stomach, that constantly grew, but he couldn't do anything about it. He wanted to fight something, to prove to himself that these were the people he would stand with until the end, to hold until nothing remains but nothingness, yet he found himself… drifting.
Not in a rebellious way, of sorts, but from The Garden itself. Their actions as of late… they were all signs of an unending struggle. Corruption against confidence, brothers in arms fighting one another, the nation itself unable to change through a radical, terrifying time, it all pointed towards annihilation of oneself. Quite frankly, he didn't want to watch it go. Still, he owed Sarah, and she knew what she was doing. I hope.
He owed her his life, several times over. She was the one who brought him from his pit of despair when he first awakened, the one who took him in, taught him the basics of fighting, of working in a team. What kind of man would he be to turn back on her in a time of hardship?
A scene flashed through his mind, of a crying Sarah, sitting in the corner of the derelict, rust-filled dungeon, her powers rendered inert. Echoes of whispers that slid through the bars in the cell met his ears, whispers of dread, of unending guilt. She wasn't invincible. He knew that, but it was then where he'd seen it in person. That underneath the persona of a strong, formidable leader, was the vulnerable woman who was there before their induction into the layers.
As time passed, he began to understand Sarah much more than he'd thought. Her nervous twitches and movements became commonplace to him, and he could easily tell when she was stressed, even though she hid it very well. Admittedly, he didn't see her whatsoever these days, so he couldn't tell how she was doing.
Despite his sympathy for her, he still felt that burning anger inside of him, threatening to spill to the front. He placed his hand along the hilt of his blade, swishing it out of its sheathe with a swift arc of motion. It swung through the air, coming to a rest in front of him, his face reflected in the glint of the blade. He focused his intent, his anger being channeled into focus, and allowed his sword energy to wrap itself around the blade, lighting the room in a small glow as it folded neatly above the length of the weapon.
The brilliance of the sword energy shone, alighting his face, which now was lit up in the darkness of the room. He smiled as he observed it, watching as the energy briefly flickered and jolted, as if not perfectly stable. He remembered when he first obtained that energy, how volatile and dangerous it was, sparking like a cut wire- no- more like a lightning bolt, unable to free itself from its restraints.
Shaking his head, he took a glance around him, finding nothing of real value. He sheathed his weapon, hearing the texture of metal on leather softly echo through the room as he did so, before sitting down once more, blinking any last remnants of sleepiness out of his eyes.
As he settled, he willed open his status screen, checking it for the first time in a few weeks.
[Status]
[Core: Copper (Upper)]
[Soul: Copper]
[Traits: Masterful Crafter (Species Only)]
[Species: Human]
[Status:]
[Strength: 24]
[Constitution: 26]
[Dexterity: 25]
[Intelligence: 13]
[Spirit: 14]
[Charisma: 12]
[Abilities: Willpower, Adrenaline, Sword Mastery (Silver)]
[Essence: 305]
Not much had changed since the last time he checked. Despite fighting being a regular part of his duty as a scout, food, potions, equipment, and just surviving in general had taken up several essence expenses throughout the weeks. In total, he believed that he'd obtained around six hundred or so essence from monsters, a reasonable amount for a fighter in just a month, yet with the insanity of life in The Garden, things had been much, much tougher.
He could be considered a mid-ranged bronze tiered fighter at this point. As someone who still struggled in single combat fights with thrall, it gave him the strength to fend for his own, but still left him lacking compared to most warriors who'd fought for years throughout the layers. As for Sarah… she was far out of his league. At her current strength, or as far as he knew from their expedition, she was at least a high silver tier, or even potentially gold. It really mattered as far as her relative strength measured.
Whilst she could certainly struggle against a brute-class thrall, which would make her equivalent a silver tiered human, he remembered how they defeated the evolving thrall just a few weeks ago, making her feel much more like a gold tier than anything else.
A gold tiered human could fight one on one with Brute class thralls and win a majority of the time, unless some extremity occurred. Whilst the first several tiers had two tiers per level of thrall, it was after brutes where that trend seemingly disappeared. Platinum-level humans encompassed everyone who could take on a Variant class by themselves, struggle or not, and Adamantine-level humans took it a step further, being able to contend with Chieftain-level thralls, the apex predators of the layer. Zander shivered at just the thought of contending with one of those monsters… he'd heard stories of thrall that had terrorized the Skyscraper, slaughtering thousands of people in its wake. It was clear that they were nothing more than living, breathing, thinking natural disasters.
Imagine what one of them could do in the outer territories… he shivered at the thought, before doing his best to plunge it from his mind. Thinking too much on possibilities that could easily kill him in a second was a hassle, he concluded, shaking his head out of his stupor. Still, a lingering feeling of unease remained, like a small thorn in his back, itching for his attention.
He picked himself off of the bed, making his way to the door, his eyesight level with the floor as he took in a deep breath. His hand lingered on the doorknob, hesitating to turn it. A flash of sadness, anger, and fear rose through him as he thought of the future, yet he merely shook them aside. There would be time to deal with it all later. He pushed the handle downward, the elongated handle moving smoothly as he did, the door opening to reveal the heart of Hope.
Hope had quickly become one of their strongest complexes in the area. Serving as one of the largest complexes, Hope fit the hundreds if not thousands of soldiers, guards, scouts, and more living under the banner of The Garden, their lively green leaf emblazoned along series of flags along the walls. Gone was the comforting layer of living wood, brought by Matsuo's power, but his legacy remained in their green colors.
The layout of Hope was quite linear. It contained a massive, open space the size of a stadium in the center of the complex, which was used as the meeting room for any diplomatic affairs, foreign or domestic, as well as a massive series of living spaces, which typically were found in unique, jagged patterns. It often created a synchronized structure within complexes, with some people finding a unique art within the origin of complexes, and the layer as a whole.
What caused this layer to be created? Zander had assumed for a while that it was following the formulaic idea of "non-euclidean" structures, taking series of rooms and mixing them together at random, eventually forming larger structures, or the complexes that were found throughout the layer. Unknown to Zander, these complexes were formulated in a way reminiscent of stars within a galaxy, forming unique patterns along their path, swirling around the central complex, the Skyscraper, much like the large black hole that would sit within the center of each galaxy. Whilst there was no direct way to reach the Skyscraper, the teleporters allowed easy travel into the megastructure for any who had access to it, though that was easier said than done.
Despite not knowing the unique shapes of the complexes, Zander still thought something was off. Each complex was created with a few different items: housing, a kitchen/dining area, office spaces, and a central, open room. Despite a few exceptions, complexes ALWAYS had these rooms. Outside of the guaranteed rooms, other, more recreational rooms, such as a game room, equipped with a pool table, theatres or entertainment districts, market areas, which resembled the shopping centers found within airports, and many other styles of rooms were found throughout his travels into unexplored territory. Of course, there was bound to be many, many more different rooms which they hadn't found, but much of the outer territories was still relatively unexplored, leaving ample room for opportunity to find new, valuable pieces of land, despite the dangers.
Their scouting team had discovered three more trials since their discovery here in Hope. They hadn't been explored, but they quickly disappeared after a few days, leaving the scouting teams more confused than anything else. It seemed that trials served as tests of strength and knowledge, granting access to another world with an objective, similar to how the first layer seemed to work. He didn't know if these worlds were real or not, or even if the people residing within it would exist after the trial closed, but his mind still wandered back to the enslaved humans he found within the goblin encampment. He wondered if they'd gained their freedom after the death of the goblin king or fallen to the hordes of goblins that still remained after they'd left. He felt a pang of sadness at the thought, but he couldn't do anything about it now.
He walked along the large, open halls of Hope, looking for the new headquarters of scouts in the area. They'd moved into a large room on the edge of the complex, overlooking one of the main four entrances to the complex, and the unending void below. Despite being unable to see any major complexes in the distance due to the encroaching fog that seemed to form in a radius around each person, it was a nice view, and a stark reminder of the reality of the layer. There was no comfort in the void, only the cold, hard memory of the losses they incurred to reach this point.
The room itself was rather formal. A few office chairs lined around a larger table, reminding Zander of the scenes of CEO's in popular movies, their checkered black seats giving an overwhelming sense of professionalism, which looked rather silly with their picturesque leather armor. Still, it functioned as a suitable meeting place, and scouts would use the other branch's facilities for training and honing their skills. After the annihilation of the first squad of scouts, their ranks had been unstable. Instead of breaking into individual groups, they often worked together, mixing their experience together, especially since Sarah couldn't spend as much time managing the scouts. Despite this, she insisted on continuing her role as scout captain, shouldering the two together within the past month and a half.
He placed his hand on the door to the scout's headquarters, his knuckles rapping gently on the face of the door. Silence. Nothing seemed to change. He frowned, his eyebrows turning inward before he leaned back in to knock once more. His breath began to pick up as nothing happened once again, adrenaline beginning to flood into his mind. He tensed as he prepared to unsheathe his sword, ready to break down the door if needed, his every sense alert for any signs of dang-
"Oh, hey" Logham's voice greeted Zander as the door swung open suddenly, causing Zander to jump with surprise. Dark circles formed underneath Logham's eyes, and his gait was uneven and jagged. The man looked disheveled, his clothing and armor a mess, stained with darker pools of what he assumed was some sort of drink.
Zander breathed out a sigh, his hand removing itself from the hilt of his weapon. "Hey…" his brows furrowed as he looked the man up and down. "You alright?" he asked, his muscles unclenching. He looked behind the man, seeing a few bottles of alcohol on the table, before glancing back at the man, giving him a pointed look.
"Y-" he hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek. "No. Not really." He said, stepping from the door, letting Zander enter the room. As Zander walked inside, he sat down in a nearby chair, the other members of the scouts seemingly missing. "It's supposed to be my day off, but I can't help but think…" he took a deep breath. "Think about everything, you know?" He sighed, slapping the sides of his thighs with the palm of his hand.
Zander stood up, sitting Logham down in a neighboring chair. He patted the man on the shoulder, his face sympathetic. He felt concern for the man, as people who've fought together and cared for each other, but he felt distanced, in a way, as if his brain filtered him out as someone he could open up to. Still, he stayed silent, waiting for him to let out anything he needed to say.
"I just keep thinking about what happened. The blood we shed that day… it started all of this. This infighting, this rage, this death. I-" He hesitated, clasping his hand gently over his mouth. "I blame myself. It was my responsibility to deal with the situation correctly, yet I allowed this to happen." His hands began to shake, and he ran his palms through his course, rough hair. Zander noticed that his hair was greasy and unwashed.
Zander sighed softly, just quiet enough for no one to hear. It was not a sigh that radiated with sarcasm or annoyance, but one of concern. "I-…" His words fell silent as he began to think, his mind slowly trying to replay the recent events, his mind seemingly unable to comprehend the sheer magnitude of what the violence meant.
What role do I play here? He asked himself internally, a small, pitching feeling forming in his gut. He frowned, his expression turning sour as his mind raced with moments of weakness or darkness. He thought of the massacres and infighting that had appeared over the last few days and weeks, he thought of the death of Matsuo, of the hole formed by his passing. What significance did he really have here? The world seemed to be crumbling apart around him, despite his best efforts.
"Honestly… I'm not sure" he said, pausing between his words, his speech careful and calculated. "I don't think it was your fault. It was bound to happen either way, sooner or later." He said, lifting his chin high, but not making eye contact with his fellow colleague.
The two of them turned to the large glass window that overlooked the voice, Zander's eyes watching the flickering, churning fog that permeated throughout the bottom of the layer. All of that space, and it was unknown just how far it stretched. What if there were other layers identical to this one? How could they know that there were even further layers beyond this one? No one ever seemed to return from their expeditions towards the second layer, and any who remained here emerged distraught and distrustful,
Without warning, Zander grabbed a few drinks from the table, handing them to the distraught man.
"I-I-I been thinking" Logham stumbled over his words, his lip beginning to quiver as he wrenched the right speech from his throat. "Maybe we shouldn't have gone on that expedition." He gulped down his drink, consisting of a mixture of water and something unknown. "Maybe what we discovered that day should've laid dead and buried. It feels like- like all of them died for nothing." He said, placing the glass down hard onto the table, causing Zander to jump at the sudden noise.
"I mean- they can't have died for nothing, right?" He asked, chuckling slightly. His laughter came out as ragged, almost inane even. "Surely, we'll win this war, get us back on our feet, and move on with our lives. Surely, right?" He asked, turning back towards Zander. "Everything'll go back to how it was, our little fuckin' scouts team will go explore the complexes, find new stuff to be giddy about. We don't gotta care about fighting or- or killing people, or all this shit." He waved his hands through the air, before quickly turning them back towards his own hair, his movements rushed, as if he was embarrassed.
"Logham… don't start thinking like that, man." Zander said, placing his hand on the man's shoulder, his movement causing the man's muscles to quickly tense, before relaxing. "It'll be fine, trust me. So what if there's some civil war going on? Or mysterious attackers or whatnot. All I've heard about this place is the resilience you all showed after the Great War. You've picked yourself up from the ground and rebuilt once the dust has all settled, and that's just going to happen again. Don't fret too much, got it?" He asked, a soft smile on his face.
His words did not elicit the same reaction from Logham. Narrowing his eyes, he slammed his fist down on the table with a startling slam, his voice peaking as he spoke:
"And what will you do when you're confronted with death?"
Zander paused, confused.
"When you're sitting there on the battlefield, someone charging at you full speed, weapon in hand. What then? What would you do?" He asked, shaking his head, that familiar, unnerving laughter returning. "When you have to plunge the blade of your sword into the chest of someone you thought a brother?" His hands began to quiver as his tone rose, becoming more and more angry. "When the people you swore to protect turn against you, and your hand is forced?" He clutched his hand over his heart, gripping his clothing tightly, his shirt pinching upwards with his hand.
Zander's head spun lightly as he thought about Logham's words. His hand brushed against the butt of his sword, finding its well-tread spot along its exterior. He lodged his thumb in the familiar wedge, finding the small dip in texture comforting.
He'd never really thought about the consequences of this war. If he were fighting for his home, he'd have to kill someone. His body shook as his breathing quickened, leaning forward slightly in his chair, his other hand reaching for the arm of the seat. His mind raced with possibility, feeling as if an anvil began to weigh down atop him, pressing into him with every millisecond, growing stronger and stronger, until it felt like he couldn't bear it anymore.
A flash, a memory of the green, a sweet, comforting blanket that enveloped him warmly… gently… musingly. Zander felt his breathing calm, his mind returned to that sweet, everlasting, undying green.
"Logham…" Zander spoke to the man, who sat in silence, an angry expression stuck across the man's face. He felt his own calm as he spoke, his words feeling almost sage-like. "Do you remember… home?" He asked. "Not The Garden, not this layer, but home? On Earth?" His words were soft, but Logham heard every one.
"I-Home?" Logham asked, laughing slightly. His mind flashed with images of what once was, a life sat atop mountaintops, book in hand, laughter permeating the trees around him as his family played and frolicked below. He felt himself drain as he thought of his mother and father, his kind, ever-loving parents. He thought of his sister, whose kind words had dragged him back to college. He thought of his brother, who had taught him to play cards, who'd always had been there for him once times got tough. Where are they now? He thought, his eyes shooting to the foggy, dark sky, unruptured by stars.
"Do you remember the stars?" Zander asked, his chin raising to meet where Logham was staring. "I always lived in a city, so I never really got the chance to see too much of them." He said, smiling softly. "Yet there was one time… I walked to the woods one day, curious as to where it would lead." He paused, feeling the memories take over him. "I walked for hours through the day, from the morning until the evening, watching wide-eyed as the trees overwhelmed me. Once the sun began to set, I made a makeshift shelter in a clearing. It was… shitty, to say the least." He said, barking out a small laugh. "Yet when I stood up, and looked towards the sky…" He struggled to find the words, biting the inner part of his cheek. "It was like nothing I had ever seen before. It was something so incredibly strange to me, that this had all existed, just under my nose."
"Did you go back there? To the spot you watched the stars?" Logham asked, his gaze drifting towards Zander's face, watching as various emotions played itself out across his face, plain to see.
"No." he said, simply.
"No, I did not."