The escort team moved slowly through a narrow gorge leading to the high walls surrounding the city. Eventually, a massive gate creaked open, revealing the real city beyond.
"We're back in this shithole we call home," Mace muttered in a dry voice.
"Well… it's more beautiful than I thought," Konan clearly lied.
"It used to be called Milan. That was the original name, and no one bothered to change it," Ava added with an explanation.
"It used to be beautiful... now it's unrecognizable," Mace scoffed as he spat on the ground.
(Hold on… the meteor collision happened twenty years ago, right?) A question arose in Konan's mind.
"Do you actually remember that? How old are you?" he asked involuntarily.
"I'm thirty-one," Mace replied matter-of-factly.
Ava interjected eagerly, "So, can you guess my age?"
She struck various poses as she spoke.
"Hmm... around twenty or twenty-one?"
"Really? Come on, stop it… it's embarrassing!" Ava said, playfully hiding her face and twisting her body happily.
"Actually, it's twenty-eight," Mace casually exposed.
"What about that frowning guy over there?" Konan pointed with his chin at Nikolai, who was talking with a guard a little farther away, ignoring the sounds of Ava hitting Mace and shouting,
"Don't just announce a woman's age!"
In that instant, as if having heard him, Nikolai shot them a sharp glare.
(Did he really hear that…?) Konan shrank back and fell silent. He glanced around.
Once they entered the walls, the full extent of the city came into view.
It resembled a snake coiled into a triple-layered circular city. Each layer rose slightly higher, connected by freight elevators and checkpoints.
The innermost ring towered far above the rest, with polished alloy spires, reflective windows, and transport vehicles running overhead.
It was reminiscent of the Archive in some way.
"That's where the baron lives," Ava said, noticing his gaze. "Him and his circle of nobles. They have food and clean water, and they sleep without even locking their doors."
"No way… you mean those are real..."
"'I can't believe it.'"
"What caused that fissure...?"
He couldn't finish his words. A crowd began to gather around their convoy.
The crowd surged toward their convoy, bringing their progress to a temporary halt. However, Nikolai paid no attention to it, walking straight toward the checkpoint under the elevated road on the opposite side of the outer ring. People naturally parted to make way for him. Konan and the others followed slowly in their vehicle.
"Most people spend their whole lives here," Ava said matter-of-factly, gesturing at the surroundings. "But if you shoot straight and don't die quickly—then, you might get to protect those who made you poor this time. Funny, right?"
Konan said nothing in response.
The outer ring was a maze of patched-up shelters, rusted containers converted into homes, and tents made of tarps and bones. Some still lived among the ruins of what had once been beautiful Milan. Smoke rose from campfires, and a generator roared irregularly in the distance. The power was unstable, flickering dimly.
Konan's eyes caught sight of the same cortenite conduits used for the vehicles and city. But the ones here were thin, weak, and seemed like they might wither away at any moment.
"This is the place for the refugees. Just people who survived. The ones who didn't make it to the baron's favorites," Ava's voice dropped slightly in tone. "They say there's a shortage of cortenite, telling us to conserve power… yet somehow, the inner ring gets brighter every day. Isn't that strange?"
"…"
"—Ah, we've arrived," she suddenly reverted to her previous tone as the second checkpoint came into view. Guards leaned against their rifles with bored expressions. One of them gave Ava a light nod, to which she cheerfully raised her middle finger in response.
As they passed through the checkpoint, they entered the inner ring. It was a little more organized than the outer ring, but still chaotic.
"This is where the security forces, soldiers, and scavenger units live," Mace said as if to add to the explanation. "They go out on missions daily, getting paid in rations, ammunition, and vehicles. Nikolai's unit is one of five in the city."
They made their way to their base. Ahead loomed a tower that shone almost like magic, made of glass and stolen light—the inner ring.
Nikolai Abiatti stood like a statue in front of a flickering terminal, motionless. The pale blue light from the screen illuminated his cheek, accentuating the tension in his chiseled jaw.
Noisy voices came through the communication line.
"...Understood," Nikolai replied curtly.
"Hey. Stand up," he said flatly to Konan as he returned to the shared space of the base.
A few minutes later, the gates of the inner ring opened with a hydraulic sound. The blinding light of refined cortenite burned his eyes, and Konan instinctively squinted.
Beyond them stood skyscrapers, like memories of past civilizations. In truth, it was the remnants of a forgotten civilization itself.
The polished alloy road reflected inorganic light.
There were no children's voices. No screams. Even the air carried an artificial smell.
Konan walked quietly two steps behind Nikolai.
They passed under a glowing arch marked with the baron's emblem and moved down a long corridor.
"Where are we heading?"
"…"
Nikolai naturally didn't respond.
After walking for about thirty seconds, they entered a massive hall constructed alongside a repurposed high-rise building. A sign reading "Command Center" was displayed prominently.
At the far end of the hall, behind a thick glass table, sat a man wearing a black uniform without rank insignia. He looked to be in his fifties, with graying hair and sharp blue eyes. His clean-shaven face highlighted the intensity of his gaze.
As he lit a cigarette, he spoke idly.
"Another newbie? I'm tired of watching wild dogs go mad."
Konan tilted his head. "You speak as if I'm not even here."
"If you're a disappointment, you'll vanish quickly. That's all. Name and age?"
"Konan. Twenty years old."
"No family record. No citizen ID. You're like a ghost."
(…When did they?)
As if reading his thoughts, the man continued.
"We have our own methods."
"Is being a ghost a problem?"
"It is for me."
The commander's eyes were not smiling.
"I might be from the southern continent."
"You do have African features, but these days, no one crosses that sea of molten rock."
Before Konan could respond, Nikolai stepped forward.
"With all due respect, Commander Bryce. He is my companion."
The man leaned back in his chair, exhaling smoke.
"You're not in a position to add personnel on your own, Nikolai."
"This is not an order. It's a report."
"…Are you vouching for him?"
"He split a sandworm in two, and he didn't flinch even when I held a blade to his throat."
"…So, you believe him?"
"I trust no one."
Nikolai's voice was icy as he spoke.
"But he knows how to handle weapons. If he makes any moves I don't like, I'll dispose of him on the spot."
(Hey, calm down a bit…)
Konan whispered silently to himself, sweating nervously.
Commander Bryce watched the two for a while before turning his gaze to the side.
There, a black data pad was blinking.
"Here, provide your fingerprint and DNA samples. …If you die within a week, the processing costs will fall on Nikolai."
Konan stepped forward silently and completed the procedure. A beep sounded.
As they made their way back to the base outside, Konan quietly exhaled.
"...That's quite a peculiar form of persuasion."
"You're too loose-lipped."
Just before reaching the checkpoint, Nikolai stopped.
"You're not normal," he said without turning around.
"I don't yet know what you are, but you don't look like just a soldier. However… your presence feels like the beginning of something."
He glanced over his shoulder at Konan, their eyes meeting.
"Whether that is hope or ruin… I can't yet tell."
Konan gave a faint smile and replied.
"...I feel the same way."