“Freedom~” Emilia cheered as they exited the elevator. “Thank you for the lift!” she said to the men who had hauled them upwards, standing just outside the elevator door. They didn’t look tired, just as none of the operators on the lower floors had, each one having taken them up some 10 floors, before they walked to the next elevator, the next set of operators. None of them had looked like they understood her, either, but it was still polite to thank them, and she’d taken to bowing slightly—something that was nearly universally understood as a sign of respect in the real world—after her escort had ensured her no one would be offended by it.
He had also told her that it was unnecessary to thank them, that he would do so, and they would not be excepting her to. She still insisted on thanking them, although she was pretty sure this meant he had to explain to the dozens of men they’d met so far what it was she was saying and doing. He hadn’t exactly complained, but she felt like he was growing tired of talking to people more than necessary.
Everyone seemed to love talking to him, though. They’d been stopped nearly a dozen times on their ascent by people who were also travelling. One woman had accompanied them at least 50 floors, before they had reached the point where locals began to live. What was in those middle floors, between housing (read: prisons) for visitors and residents, Emilia had no idea, and like so many of her questions, her escort had left that one unanswered. Not to mention in the 10 floors between elevators. Asshole.
“So, where’s the next elevator?” she asked, arms stretching upwards as she yawned. It had taken a long time to get up here, some 100 plus floors—she’d lost track, okay? She’d leaned against her escort for a moment and kinda nodded off. She’d woken in his arms sometime later, unsure of how many floors she’d missed.
He hadn’t answered her about that either. Jerk. He was totally purposefully fucking with her. No one should be that secretive about what floor they’re on!
⸄Over there, but we will rest for the night.⸅
How he knew it was night, what with the perpetual light thing, Emilia had no idea. Maybe something in the system? Or some internal clock? Mysterious. Felt like the middle of the day to her. Granted, nap, but still! Middle of the day.
“Are you tired?” she asked as she followed her guard along. The areas that housed the elevators had been nearly identical. Several doors leading up or down, groups of workers pulling blood-red rope—which Emilia would have been convinced were covered in blood if not for the whole moratorium on bleeding thing—to move the creaking, metal elevators.
In a shocking turn of events, her escort didn’t answer her as they exited the elevator platform and entered a quiet street that—
Oh.
This as why he hadn’t answered her about what was in the floors between elevators: bastard wanted to surprise her when she walked into a bloody city being held high in the sky by another building.
She had noted, during her brief time outside, how massive the buildings of this world were. Not just tall, but wide and long, spanning multiple city blocks before small gaps allowed for alleyways between more giant buildings.
She still hadn’t realized how truly gigantic they were. The city that stretched in front of her, numerous buildings reaching at least five floors up, held up by the floor beneath it. What kind of material could even support this kind of weight? Especially if there were more floors above, just as impressive in scope. There was nothing even remotely close to this in the real world—the reality that this world wasn’t real, didn’t have to obey the laws of physics and matter, slamming into her as they walked through the city.
People moved busily around them, women in long sweeping skirts contrasting with members of the Risen Guard, in their skin-tight garb, lazily wandering the streets. They looked relaxed, compared to the guard below, with their strict expressions and cruel smiles. Almost everyone nodded in acknowledgement of her escort, several even stopping to converse silently with him while she gazed around.
Everything was, unfortunately and unsurprisingly, still red, but the architecture itself was more diverse than the world below. She peeked around the people, trying to see the opposite end of the city, and caught sight of a large door, currently in the process of being closed. Glancing back, she saw a similar door to the elevator platform being closed as well.
“Do you have a curfew?” she asked as they began moving again. Slowly, the roads were growing even more quiet, civilians and the patter of their feet disappearing off the streets. Occasionally, an adult would appear to force a child back home. It was so strange, seeing such normal things—things she had experienced in her own childhood, could still see on the streets of Alver—exist in such quiet. No parents yelling for their children to get their butts home, not out loud anyways, but the number of adults she saw ushering children inside told her either the children of this world were even worse at listening than the ones in hers, or whatever mode of communication they had was limited.
⸄Yes, and no.⸅
So forthcoming.
The inn they entered—because it was far too rustic for Emilia to think of it as a hotel—was small and quiet. Even the clink of utensils from the dining area was soft. Not that there were a huge number of guests. Most appeared to be workers, their outfits screaming of uniforms and dirt. That was one of the more interesting parts of raid platforms. The culture, the economy. How everything had come together. There were even people who studied the ways platforms developed, how the resources of the world, visitors and monsters, shaped them. It was fascinating, but highly unethical, with the platforms run for research often being turned off once they were done with it.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Death, but not real death. Death that only lasted until someone booted up the server again.
Horrifying, and as fascinating as she found the study, she could never do something so cruel. Not that this, invading a world of living beings just for a game, didn’t feel just as wrong and make her stomach turn.
⸄Emilia?⸅
Emilia started, looking back at her escort. It was the first time he had said her name. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the few other patrons looking their way now as well, drawn by the sound of his modulated voice because apparently they could hear him, at least so some extent.
“Mn?”
⸄Do you require food?⸅
She made a face and was graced with the smallest smile from the man, and the room burned as the patron’s minds whispered between themselves. “Nah, I’m good 'till morning.”
She followed him up several fights of stairs, a rickety metal thing that had seen better days. It groaned and creaked under her, screws rattling together. She’d love to see how these places were built. It seemed like there must be sharp objects involved in at least some of the construction. Screws and drill bits and chisels. Even shovels could draw blood, under the right circumstances. Burns could, too—she’d seen that first hand, seen Olivier bleeding out from burns during the final battle. There was no way to escape all risk of injury, and yet this world seemed to run on rules that forbid anything too dangerous.
Even the children she had seen, playing outside before their parents and guardians gathered them up for the night, had seemed to behave more carefully than children in her own world. Kids were walking injuries, with head bonks and scrapes from all their falls.
⸄I rented two rooms for the night.⸅
“You? Or the Risen Guard?” she teased, poking her head into the room he opened up for her. It was nice, in a blandly red and clean sort of way.
⸄I will return in the morning. If you need me, I will be there.⸅ He pointed to the room across the hall before effectively slamming her door closed as soon as she was inside, as much as a door that was hydraulic dampers could slam closed, anyways.
“Well,” she sighed, hands on her hips as she looked around. Now what?
There wasn’t much of interest in the room. Bed for one. A single chair. Tiny table. She'd seen plenty of hotel rooms over the years, even the occasional little hole-in-the-wall inn, this one was by far the smallest.
She pushed the curtains open, looking out into the city. She blinked. The world was actually getting darker, something in the ceiling far above glistening and seemingly dragging light into it. Even the light of her room was beginning to fade, now that it had been exposed to that pull, and she pressed the curtains closed again. Inch by inch, the light of the room’s air began to glow once more.
“Freaky,” she murmured, opening the curtains again to watch the world fade into darkness.
Thin curtains of other buildings showed the slow darkening of those rooms, until they were lit by only a faint glow. Other windows glowed strong at the edges, whatever gave light to this world protected by thicker curtains and blinds. Shadows moved on the streets, now lit by only the echo of light from rooms above.
Emilia eyed up the window, wondering what it was made of—surely not regular old glass. Something stronger, something that couldn’t shatter and become a weapon. She could try to smash it, but the chances of that attracting the wrong kind of attention were too high. Out the front door it was—still liable to attract attention, but at least she could make excuses for leaving the building the normal way.
Besides, hardly any of her babysitters had ever anticipated her making a break through the front door. Normal, ill-behaved children (not to mention their adult counterparts) snuck out windows and magical holes, after all.
She peeked out the door. Empty, her escort’s door still firmly shut. Didn’t mean he wasn’t downstairs, but… well, he hadn’t told her she couldn’t leave, right? She was just going to go on a midnight scroll. Couldn’t sleep, yup. Nap threw off her whole sleep schedule. He should have woken her up if he wanted her to sleep like a regular person. That was totally plausible.
The stairs creaked under her as she went back to the lobby. Barely anyone looked up at her, the few who did averting their gaze quickly. The man at the front desk glanced up, eyes serious and assessing, before he too looked away. A ripple ran through the air and her steps quickened slightly, just in case he had contacted her babysitter and the man was about to come screaming down the stairs after her.
“I’ll be back in a bit!” she cheered at no one as she pushed her way into the dark night.
Shadows shifted around her, some real people, others shadows that danced ominously across the world, black blobs of humanity that warped and rustled against the aether. She blinked at them, then they were gone, and she was left wondering if she was losing it.
Someone rushed by her, long, bright red curls exploding out of their hood. They glanced her way, black eyes meeting her own for the briefest moment, and then they were disappearing down an alley and Emilia was following slowly behind—she didn’t want to freak the girl out! If she were going anywhere special, she would certainly run into others headed that way. Follow the flow of traffic, find the best places to party.
Indeed, as she walked, she came across dozens of people hurrying through the streets in black cloaks. They avoided the light, as much as they could. Emilia watched the windows above them. More and more curtains were being thrown open to let the darkness in—almost none of the people who did so spared a glance to the dark world. If anything, they seemed to actively avoid looking into it. Occasionally, someone—usually a child or teenager—would risk a look, their expressions full of fear and anticipation and excitement before they hurried away from the window.
Emilia halted as she came around a corner, watching as dozens of people disappeared down a narrow flight of stairs. Interesting, she had assumed whatever was below this level was either a support level or another city.
The people, mostly young adults, smiled and the world quietly vibrated with happiness as they met up with their friends and descended into the world below. There didn’t seem to be anyone guarding the door, but it wasn’t like she could fit in with the locals—not with her odd hair and eyes and inability to, you know, talk.
Someone bumped into her back and she stumbled forward, only stopped from slamming to the ground by an arm wrapping around her waist.
Something apologetic vibrated through her, sending a shudder up her spine at just how intimate it felt. The person seemed to be saying something to her, her core tensing as something ran across it, but it was fluid and bending—something less solid than the apology of someone who had just run into you.
She turned, finding a cute young boy looking down at her. He wasn’t much taller than her, his short, strawberry-blonde curls sneaking out from under his own hood. His eyes widened as he took her in and the feeling of someone trying to speak through her being disappeared, replaced by a general echo around them as several others joined him.
Her assailant-saviour looked towards one of the girls, her expression just as stern as her babysitter’s was. Dark eyes glared at her, jaw tensing.
⸄You should not be out here.⸅