Arthur POV

An hour has passed since we infiltrated "The Keep of Ruin."

At first both of us thought that Eden's people just liked keeping their old ways and are using it in tandem with modern technology. And then we thought we were in the past.

However, it was quite foolish to even assume these two scenarios.

The hints were always there.

The foot walk of prisoners and even the man escorting them in such harsh weather instead of using any kind of vehicle, the uneven pathway that was the only way to-and-fro to "The Keep." The people who were all clad in old robes.

It all should've indicated towards the fact that Eden has not progressed much at all. Technologically, it can't even be compared to Earth.

And while humans had a natural tendency to develop faster, it still has been millions of years. The amount of progress that they have achieved so far is debilitatingly low. As if they're still stuck somewhere between Renaissance and Medieval Era.

It's uncanny. And it makes my guts churn.

After entering the main gate, there is a straight path that leads to a huge infrastructure, several kilometres ahead. It was a huge circular, stadium shaped structure with no room for windows. Or any other thing. Just fancily built walls that spanned over a huge area and then closed upwards in a pointed shape.

A single spire stood tall right by its side and a man was on duty. I tried to keep my Arcanum usage barely minimum, which is why I couldn't tell much about the man stationed there. However, I could still tell he was an archer since he had a quiver attached to his back.

The footpath that led to the huge infrastructure was much better than the muddy pathway we had encountered on our way to this place. It was made out of some kind of concrete, obvious cracks visible here and there. However, it was only around 7 feet wide. And the pathway was only made from the entrance towards the huge structure.

The rest of the houses, shops and other things were made on muddy ground. Their designs were simple, mostly just in cube and rectangular shapes. All of them were single storey, made out of materials that looked like bamboo with a lot of mud over it to protect against the heat.

Back to the colosseum looking structure, it would seem like that this huge structure holds great importance. Why else would someone go out of their way to make a narrow road right from the entrance.

The edges of this road or pathway were lined with some kind of powder.

Crouching down below, I tried to touch it.

"You bastard there!" A voice called out suddenly. "Don't touch it. Unless you want to have your hands cut by those damned Imperials."

Looking up, I saw the man who had spoken. It was a tall man with a long beard and pristine pale skin. His long orange hair was sprawled all over his forehead and a pair of obsidian, knife line horns jutted out of the citrus locks. His pale orange eyes met mine for a fleeting second as he waved his hand.

"Get your act together, boy. Don't get killed when you just arrived."

Saying those words he turned around.

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"What the fuck are you doing?" Michael asked from behind me.

He was still using the appearance changing artefact, although his horns shape had changed. There were now just two small stubs instead of the long, regal looking ones. His horns were indeed attracting a lot of attention.

We were impersonating as someone from the Cromwells. A ruling demon family. It fooled the trolls and the guards, but the closer we got to the base of operations, the harder it would be to keep up this fiasco. It was better to pose as an ordinary demon and his servant than as a Cromwell.

We don't know much about Demons, however, from the available evidence and how people were reacting to Michael, it would seem like the type of horns determine the hierarchy amongst Demons. But that is not what's important right now.

"There is something really wrong going on." I replied to his question, not leaving the pure white powder that was sprinkled all along the pathway.

"Yeah, no shit." He snuffled and then shifted underneath his robe. "It's hot as fuck."

"Yeah, no shit." I copied him. "We are literally in a hot desert. It would've been strange if it wasn't hot." Pausing for a brief second and enjoying the small moment of victory in the verbal back-and-forth, I spoke once again. "As for the thing I said before… it definitely had a much bigger involvement."

"Hot desert. Hah. No need to specify."

There are cold deserts as well...well, nevermind.

He stood by my side and then tilted forward, taking a peek in at the powdered trail alongside the pathway.

"Looks like just another white mark over a road."

"It's not even a mark." I argued back. Perhaps it was just my intuition, but it seemed really suspicious. "It looks more like a guiding path…" I felt my voice fade away, carried away by the skin burning gust of wind. "…but for what?"

"You're just overthinking it." Michael waved his hand. "You told your girl you'll be back in two days, eh?"

"Mhmm." I hummed back at him, looking around myself.

The air was abuzz with the resonant cacophony of weapons being forged and was saturated with the metallic aroma of freshly crafted weapons, their distinctive tang mingling with the rich, heady scent of molten metal.

"Then you better hurry. It's about to be nighttime soon."

I peeled my eyes away from the pathway. "We still need to gather some intel."

"I'll be heading to the pub then." Michael just said that and turned around.

Extending my hand and holding him by the back of his robe, I stopped him. "We don't have time to drink."

"You don't." He smirked, "I am gonna taste the booze here. Ain't no law here to stop me, MUAHAHA!"

Cackling out loud, he broke free of my hold and crossed the pathway, heading straight for the pub, leaving me all alone and my hand suspended in midair.

Biting back the urge to stab him several times and spill his guts all over the ground, I turned around as well.

The other things can wait. I have to know about the colosseum and the weird powder.

Turning on my heel, I faced towards the huge area that was a congregation of weaponries of different kinds. Some were forging swords, some spears and some daggers.

Letting out a deep breath, I started to move as fast as I could while drawing minimal attention.

My heart fluttered excitedly inside my chest as I reached for the bare minimum of the Arcanum necessary to cast my SONAR spell. It wasn't either a complicated spell, nor a strong offensive one. It was just a steady outflux and influx of a specific frequency of sound waves.

The new, purified form of Arcanum which I had absorbed after coming to Eden, condensed and then burst like a firework, spreading like a tidal wave all over the place. The steady wave was interrupted by tangible objects as I took in the information about everything.

The shape of the buildings, people, weapons. People with different physiologies. I could feel it all. It was a much different sensation than the basic five senses I was used to. There was no sensory input. Just a steady stream of information bombarding my mind.

A constant bombardment, and yet it wasn't an unpleasant experience.

It had always been like this.

Whenever I use this and feel it all hit me at once, it ignites an exhilarating rush, an intoxicating high that I can't just get quite enough of. A high obtained by expanding my senses that surpassed that of a mortal. There is an unknown thrill in knowing that I am privy to information beyond the grasp of ordinary minds.

Now that we had already infiltrated the place and barely had 24 hours, I could not be too cautious.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, as they say.

I almost jumped out of the way as the air crackled with authority. "Don't slack now, you dimwits."

Taking a sharp, screeching turn as my feet dug into the muddy ground, I hid behind the back-wall of a forgery making swords. Peeking subtly from the side, I saw a man standing on a bucket.