The Rift suddenly spat him out like a watermelon seed, and he tumbled into the relatively calmer air of Layer 7,841. He was still falling, of course... that was just basic gravity, but at least now he could see where he was falling to.
Layer 7,841 looked like someone had built a city, gotten bored halfway through, and decided to let nature reclaim it. Floating chunks of land held crumbling buildings overgrown with luminescent vines. Waterfalls poured off the edges of islands, going nowhere, mist rising from the void below. In the distance, a massive chain---one of the Anchor Cables that theoretically held the layers in alignment stretched down into infinity, covered in rust and bird nests.
"Wow," he said, still falling.
Then he hit the market.
The impact crater was impressive.
He lay in the center of it, vegetables raining down around him, staring up at the sky through a Lone-shaped hole in some poor merchant's produce stand. His coat had somehow cushioned the fall, he didn't understand how, but it always seemed to puff up at the last second, like an airbag made of fabric and poor life choices.
"Ow," he said conversationally.
"OW?!" The merchant appeared above him, face purple with rage. "OW?! YOU DESTROYED THREE MONTHS OF INVENTORY AND YOU SAY OW?!"
"Yeah," he said, sitting up and rubbing his head. A cabbage rolled off his chest. "That hurt a lot, actually. Your vegetables are really hard. You should make them softer."
The merchant's eye twitched. "THAT'S NOT HOW VEGETABLES WORK!"
"Huh." He considered this. "Then how do they work?"
"GET OUT OF MY STAND!"
He climbed out of the crater, apologizing cheerfully while the merchant threw increasingly creative insults at him. Layer 7,841's market district bustled around them---sky merchants selling everything from cloud-cotton to Rift pearls, travelers from higher layers walking with the subtle pressure of trained Admiral Force users, and pickpockets working the crowd with admirable efficiency.
One of those pickpockets was currently trying to steal his coat right off his back.
"Hey," he said, turning around. "That tickles."
The pickpocket, a kid maybe twelve years old with ratty hair and clever fingers froze. "Uh."
"Are you trying to take my coat?" He asked, genuinely curious.
"N-no?"
"Oh, okay!" His smile could've powered a small sun. "I was gonna say, it won't come off anyway. It's stuck to me. Soul Anchor thing, you know?"
The kid's eyes went wide. "You're an Admiral?"
"Trainee! But I'm getting better!" He paused. "I think... hard to tell, do you want a Quarkbällchen?"
"Huh?"
"It's a snack that is typically made by quark, flour, eggs, sugar, and uh... baking powder."
"You... you got food?"
"No, they fell into the Rift. But I'll get more!" His stomach growled loudly. "Right after I eat. Do you know where the food is?"
The kid pointed, still looking confused about why he wasn't being murdered. "Tamura's Noodle Boat. Three islands east. But it's expensive and they don't serve---"
"THANKS!" He was already running, coat streaming behind him like a victory banner.
The kid watched him go. "---idiots who can't pay," he finished quietly. Then, after a moment's consideration, he started following. Something about that Admiral felt different. Like standing in the sun.
He wasn't the only one watching.
On a rooftop three buildings over, a girl with sharp eyes, brown hair, and a sharper instincts lowered her broken compass. Its needle spun uselessly, never pointing north, only stopping when someone lied. Right now it was perfectly still.
"An Admiral with a coat Soul Anchor," Hara muttered. "Natural Rift resistance despite zero training, no fear of falling. And he's heading directly toward..." She checked her compass again. It spun once, then pointed at the noodle boat.
She smiled, but it was the smile of a chess player seeing the board.
"Interesting."
Tamura's Noodle Boat was exactly what it sounded like---a massive wooden boat converted into a restaurant, suspended between two islands by cables and sheer stubbornness. The smell of broth and grilled meat poured from its windows like a siren's song.
He stood at the entrance, drooling.
"Welcome to---" The hostess, a tired-looking woman with flour in her hair, stopped mid-sentence. "No."
"I haven't even said anything yet!" He protested.
"You have can't afford this written all over you. Literally." She pointed at his coat, which was indeed tattered and stained with what looked like grass, blood, and something that might have been jam. "We require payment up front."
"I can pay!" He reached into his pockets with confidence. He pulled out one smooth rock, two interesting leaves, and three coins that weren't from any layer's official currency.
The hostess stared.
He stared at his collection.
"I thought I had more stuff," he said honestly.
"OUT."
"But I'm really hungry!"
"Not my problem!"
"WAIT!"
The shout came from inside the restaurant. A mountain of a man stood up from a corner table, he was at least seven feet tall, built like someone had carved a person out of a boulder and decided not to bother with details like proportional head size. His face was gentle, almost childlike, completely at odds with his body.
His Soul Anchor, an enormous war hammer leaned against the wall behind him. It was beautiful, inscribed with flowing script that read Mountain's Grief.
"I'll pay for his meal," the giant said quietly.
The hostess blinked. "Donut? You sure? He looks like he eats a lot."
"I'm sure."
"REALLY?! You're the best! What's your name? I'm Lone! Lone Einstein! I'm gonna be the God Admiral!"
The giant Donut flinched at the volume. "I'm... Donut."
"That's a great name! Is it because you're shaped like a donut?"
"What? No, I'm---"
"Can I eat now?"
Five minutes later, Lone was destroying his third bowl of noodles while Donut watched with a mixture of fascination and horror. The other diners had cleared a radius around them, partly from the spectacle and partly from the pressure radiating off Lone's Admiral Force.
He didn't seem to notice he was doing it.
That was the scary part.
"So," Donut said carefully, "you're trying to become the God Admiral?"
"Yep!" Lone slurped noodles. "Gonna reach Layer Zero and throw a party!"
"That's... that's impossible. No one even knows if Layer Zero exists."
"Sure it does! Old Man Basco told me about it. He tried to get there but his anchor broke." Lone's smile dimmed for just a moment. "So I'm gonna get there for both of us."
Donut looked down at his hands. They were shaking slightly. They were always shaking. "What if you're too scared? What if you reach a Rift you can't cross? What if---"
"Then I'll try again tomorrow!" Lone said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Being scared is fine. Giving up is the problem."
"That's easy to say when you're not---" Donut stopped. His hammer pulsed once, a low vibration that made the floorboards creak.
Lone leaned forward, noodles forgotten. His eyes, usually so empty of serious thought, suddenly focused with frightening intensity. "Hey. Big guy. Why'd you buy me food?"
Donut couldn't look at him. "Because... because you reminded me of someone. Someone I used to want to be."
"Then be that person."
"I CAN'T!" The shout made dishes rattle. Other diners turned to look. Donut's face flushed with shame. "I can't. I'm too scared. I was expelled from the Academy because I couldn't even cross the training Rifts. I have a Soul Anchor I can't use. I'm just... I'm just a coward who's too big to hide properly."
The restaurant had gone quiet.
Lone picked up his bowl and drained the broth. Then he stood up, walked around the table, and punched Donut in the arm.
It was not a hard punch. It barely qualified as a tap.
Donut stared at him.