The city was not on any map.
Aster knew that the moment he crossed the threshold.
There was no surge of mana.
No distortion of space.
No dramatic collapse of reality.
The world simply… forgot to resist.
Stone streets stretched forward beneath a sky that refused to decide whether it was dawn or dusk. Buildings leaned at impossible angles, their windows reflecting scenes that did not match their surroundings—some showed crowded marketplaces, others showed empty rooms coated in dust, as if years had passed inside a single breath.
Aster slowed his steps.
"This place…" he murmured, "…is out of phase."
Kael Ardyn, walking several steps behind him, did not argue.
"The city is called Virellion," the professor said quietly.
"Or at least, that's what it was once called."
Aster turned. "Once?"
Kael's gaze remained fixed ahead.
"It was erased before history learned how to write it down."
---
A City Between Revisions
Virellion existed in the seam between timelines.
Not destroyed.
Not sealed.
But excluded.
When the world corrected itself—when paradoxes were trimmed and futures rewritten—Virellion slipped through the cracks. A city that should have collapsed, but instead learned how to persist incorrectly.
Aster felt it immediately.
The Threads.
They were everywhere here.
Not flowing forward, not branching naturally—but tangled, looped, knotted into painful geometries. Some were frayed. Some were stitched together with unfamiliar intent.
"This place is sick," Aster said.
Kael nodded. "And aware."
As if in response, the city breathed.
Walls shifted subtly. A distant bell rang without a tower. Footsteps echoed where no one walked.
Aster's shadow rippled.
Not aggressively.
Not eagerly.
Cautiously.
"…It remembers this place," Aster thought.
---
The Inhabitants Who Weren't There
They encountered people soon after.
Or rather—approximations of people.
Figures walked the streets in slow, deliberate patterns. Their movements were almost natural, but not quite synchronized with the environment. A man lifted a cup that never reached his lips. A child laughed half a second too late. A woman turned her head before the sound that caught her attention existed.
Aster felt a pressure behind his eyes.
"These are echoes," Kael explained.
"Residual inhabitants generated by unresolved causality."
"They're not alive."
"No," Kael agreed.
"But they don't know that."
One of the figures stopped.
It turned toward Aster.
Its eyes focused with unsettling precision.
"You don't belong to this revision," it said.
Kael's mana flared instantly—but Aster raised a hand.
The figure stepped closer.
"You smell unfinished," it continued.
"Like a sentence without an ending."
Aster met its gaze calmly.
"Then why can you see me?"
The figure hesitated.
"…Because you are similar," it said slowly.
"You are also excluded."
Silence spread outward like ink in water.
Then the figure smiled.
A wrong smile.
"Be careful," it whispered.
"The city keeps what the world discards."
It resumed walking.
Kael exhaled sharply.
"That was not supposed to happen."
Aster didn't respond.
Because the Threads around that figure had reacted to him.
Not in hostility.
In recognition.
---
The Core of Virellion
They reached the city's center hours later—or minutes, time refused to behave consistently here.
At the heart of Virellion stood a tower.
No doors.
No windows.
No visible entrance.
Its surface was smooth, reflective, and fractured—not broken, but layered, like multiple versions of the same structure occupying the same space.
Aster felt it immediately.
His mark burned.
His shadow stiffened.
Kael stopped walking.
"This is where the city anchored itself," he said.
"The point where exclusion became permanence."
Aster stepped forward.
The tower responded.
Threads surged, converging around him like veins awakening. The air vibrated—not with mana, but with recorded intent.
Words surfaced in Aster's mind.
Not spoken.
Logged.
> Anomaly detected.
Designation: Persistent Variable.
Status: Unresolved.
Aster's breath slowed.
"So this is it," he murmured.
"The place that keeps what the world refuses to fix."
Kael's voice was low.
"Aster… if you go any further—"
"I know."
He placed his hand against the tower.
The surface rippled.
And for a brief, terrifying moment—
Aster saw himself reflected not once…
but dozens of times.
Some older.
Some broken.
Some wearing expressions he had never made.
One reflection looked directly at him.
Not his shadow.
Not the Echo.
Something else.
It mouthed a single word:
"Continue."
---
What the City Took
The tower opened.
Not physically.
Conceptually.
The world inside folded inward, revealing a hollow space filled with suspended fragments—scenes, memories, incomplete outcomes.
Kael froze.
"…These are discarded conclusions."
Lives that ended too early.
Events erased mid-execution.
Futures aborted before they stabilized.
And among them—
Aster saw it.
A Thread.
Not attached to him.
But cut from him.
Thin.
Incomplete.
Still vibrating.
His chest tightened.
"That's…" his voice faltered, "…mine."
Kael stared in disbelief.
"The world didn't just misplace you," he said.
"It removed part of you."
Aster stepped closer.
The fragment reacted violently.
Threads screamed.
The city trembled.
And somewhere deep within Virellion, something ancient shifted its attention.
Aster felt it.
A watcher.
Not a Hypostasis.
Not a Reaper.
Something born from accumulation.
From everything the world refused to deal with.
His shadow leaned closer to his feet.
For once… it did not mock.
"…This place can change you," it whispered.
Aster clenched his fist.
"It already did."
He reached for the fragment.