Chapter 138

Some topics, words, and signs when describing the views of outsiders weren't nice. They might not even touch a shred of Darks, for they were out there, hidden, and wild, while people couldn't take them on. Walkers did, meeting them and seeing more than humans ever could. They could get close and fight like no one else.

Walkers were consistently crucial. If they wouldn't be, an advent of nothing would come. The end of everything did not sound appealing.

Walkers were growing slowly and their training and progress were problematic in most lands. Some were relatively flesh, and unique, while learning and teaching required time across generations. This generational awareness had its worth, as well as variety and education. It was inevitable that lives turned into a long-term course, spanning many generations.

Humans should accept it because Walkers did bear this cost, sacrifice, and foreboding unwillingness to admit defeat never stopped them outright. They could accept it, fall, or retire.

The birth of a Walker wasn't fit for a celebration, or a significant change within the ranks, or this close to a century-long struggle.

William discovered how it made sense long ago, though being one such Walker wasn't in his mind. He was nobody but a youth with some gem that could potentially change, or give something immense. It was like a gamble and it might take decades for it to become relevant or heavy enough to carry him further.

Again, it was Outside knowledge. He knew that wasn't accurate. His matter was exceptional.

Now, in a place where Ellie guided him after more hours of wandering and teaching, there was something unexplored. It was an interesting place within the Museum that was kind of lost in a corner because they hadn't visited it before.

It described what was going through the human history after encountering the Dawn. Made into an exhibition, it was for normal people, children, or those unfamiliar with the Dawn to see. It was both a memorial, a remembrance, and a very stunning scenery.

William knew very little about those portraits besides stories and legends. Basily, written or spoken descriptions couldn't make it justice. What had started it? What had the incoming decade of nightmares caused, or how had humanity even coped with them? What sort of hindrances were there wasn't important. Endurance and suffering were in the way, and he assumed everything was quick.

Wrong.

It was no instant apocalypse like a giant meteor slamming into the land. It was gradual, resembling a hunt of hungry demons and spreading fogs that he was familiar with. The Dawn was here and it kept on going.

William only knew how terrible the past was via stories or tales. It was a lot about deaths, nations, monsters, and struggle that was no struggle but a complete tragedy.

Humans weren't ready for anything. They were preoccupied with their own problems, though it hadn't come like a blink. For years, the Earth turned into a wicked hell until humanity remained in very small numbers. It went beyond natural disasters, so the former humanity was no longer meaningful, making governments shut down, and people brutal.

Becoming food and simple prey for monsters was like a reminder they were insignificant animals. They were before something larger, insane, and unknown. And one of them was more terrifying than the others. People didn't expect Fogs to become that deadly. This caused a loss of technology and communication, even if it was just a byproduct of invasions.

Wars lost their meaning, but not the weapons and their wits. Not forever, that was.

When the entire sky cracked, continents became cages. Then nations followed, becoming the backyard for some monsters. Then states turned loose with all of their remaining citizens, turning... weird. The cities devolved into smaller cages, or into dwellings devoid of laws and rules for many years.

Shelters and vaults became holes, though those had their own set of troubles. The Federation wasn't anywhere back then. No government. No rules. A hideous understanding that they were weak was obvious, but life was essentially brittle yet still persistent. Humans did so with surprising splendor.

Knowledge about these times had yet to become lost, as they came from no small direction or too distant of a past. Outside was everywhere. It was the Federation that became the center of a new ideology, hence the name of Outside carried no small amount of shame. Such ideas pointed at the apocalypse, which was common and not worth questioning.

But some did question it, for there were reasons, secrets, and tales worth mentioning. The future did not know what was right or not, though their present lived through a very brutal and almost simple time. There were no struggles of Walkers and grander survival. Rugged, bold, and trying, animals and humans were doing what they could.

Monsters were ominous. The safety came from numbers, secure food, or soil, or locations with shelters. No Fogs. They were like scents, whispers, or steps. Premises for survival were written, told, and described by a couple of generations all the way to the next century.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

William knew them and learned of many more steps. He shook his arm from Ellie's grasp, gazed around, and had no obvious desire to run away. This room was curious. Locked yet open, it was less like a library-looking room, and more like a gallery. On one side, there were a variety of posters, pictures, and memorials on the walls. Then, there were small and simple shelves on the wall with not that many books. There was also a door aside, leaving to somewhere.

A few chairs and desks acted as a small reminder that this was a library. Those were the first William noticed because this place was kind of nice to most Walkers like him. This room was it.

“This is nice, Will. You wanted something else, but this is the beginning for some Walkers or kids. Of course, any person can come here as well if they want to. It isn't prohibited as long as their minds and heads or pockets can take it. Take your time. It is rather extensive since this is the Dawn we are talking about, and the Federation uncovered a whole lot about it as a bastion of humanity and the past. Oh, the Walkers did. Well, not as sanely as I can say. The Dawn had no Walkers. People watched it, some documented it, and some even welcomed it. Bunch of psychos.” Ellie explained and pointed toward that shelf.

Right. These books were the very dawn of those struggles. It was nothing flawed, as these books depicted direct and formidable knowledge that any young Walkers should want to see. William aimed his eyes at them and hesitated not just because he desired them. He wondered what was about it and how his ideas or knowledge would mesh with it, or not.

The best and most impressive thing wasn't about words or texts. The entire room was created for one purpose. To show the Dawn. From the lighting, shades, coloration, and shadows, the walls drew the Dawn itself, making incredible murals.

And he stood in it, awed and inspired by that dreadful sequence. Nothing was moving. No video, let alone some music was here, those he felt his beating heart and sweat forming on his arms and head. The eerie silence wasn't really how the Dawn sounded like. At least from the rumors passed among the generations of Outside.

Cracked sky and broken light and space looked unnatural, yet mesmerizing at the same time.

There were drawn clouds, lines of smoke, Fogs, or cracks, and work with lighting made William terrified. Then, Ellie cleared her throat right aside from him, startling him. “Is this stunning to you?”

“I imagined it would look... different.”

“What? Why? You've seen the Rifts before and the Dawn is very comparable. It was bigger, sure, but what is some painted mural compared to the real deal? We know what it looked like. People in 2014 documented all of it before.... death,” Ellie said, frowning afterward and coming to check on some signs. “It isn't the deepest portrayal of the Dawn, William. Don't think twice about it but look at it.”

“It...” William hesitated and did not speak further.

For history, it was breathless. For him, it felt kind of pretty, if not extremely bewitching. Red, black, yellow, white, and many other colors cracked some sectors in the wall, creating weird art and flat pieces that worked with some light. Pieces of that historical event weren't Rifts. That wasn't fair. The Dawn created something much more savage than them.

There were holes scattered around the walls, looking cracked and black. There was also the moon in the corner, cracked and torn in crimson fissures and newly formed canyons. Nothing much was known about the moon, but its wounds were always clear from the Earth. Outside watched it, similar to everyone. At least from this side, it showed its cross and storming redness and even some whiteness thanks to the sun.

As for the primary section of these murals, squashed and flat voids of holes constructed the main attraction. They scattered around the walls like wounds, followed or created the rest of the colors or cracks. Stretching for thousands of miles, in reality, the extending darkness and bright sunshine around them did not move inside.

Not much brightness was fine for the Void, as there were weird tears in space and atmosphere that assembled them.

It was hard to say if they were flat. Some looked like an eye, or Rifts turned flat. Space shuddered roughly, creating the rest of the murals. Throughout this room, it was big and menacing, exploding in numerous lines and lengths.

William noticed writings on the wall about it. Supposedly, this was the Dawn a few minutes into it. Huge loud noises and cracks in space followed the beginning of no end. It sounded wrong, or as simple as this picture.

Before this, the whole world trembled amidst a sudden discovery and upheaval of the heavens. Abnormal creatures came out of the ground first, sprinkled around the Earth, which then followed cracks in space, but those weren't enough to involve the whole Earth.

It was never supposed to be quick. That was what William learned and read from the pictures and words.

Still, these packs of beasts went from somewhere, and this shouldn't be about this cracked sky. The original Darks, or how many interpretations called them, were Demons or Primevals. They were utter beasts and monsters for simplicity anyway. It was also hard to call or separate the original ones from the ones that followed.

There was nothing human about them. Monsters starved and crashed the Earth for every feed imaginable. Countless, unhinged, and crazy in appearance, they moved like floods and herds, coming in millions of numbers.

As William took those sights in and remembered the tales, there was something weird within this room that piqued his interest. It was a two-meter clock that kept clicking and going with the flow of time. Its analog window had three knobs. Below it was a small entrance to a second room that William almost hadn't noticed before.

“Oh, that clock? It's the World Timer, William.” Ellie said to ease the silence and those clicks, or she wanted to assist William's pondering, almost squinting face. “That clock used to be somewhere in New York City. It depicts our precise time. It never stopped, even when the Dawn arrived. Some things are worth a lot when no electricity is involved. It's all machinery.”

It was shifting and clicking every second, minutes, and hours. Currently, the night was approaching, and there was even a date in the numbers below. 14/04/2128.

This simple date was a great reminder, though how long had passed wasn't as important. Those visiting this room barely took this clock seriously, even if the flow of time never ceased to exist. If it had, there would be nothing to call the years honorable. Perhaps that clock would still be eternally stuck in its clicking sounds. Alone in this world, clicking until the rust or its machinery would fall apart.