The man looks over at Angus, narrowing his eyes. "Why do you want in there, anyway?"
Angus shrugs, trying to play it off. "Oh, nothing. Just wanted to look around, that's all."
But the tension in his voice and the way his eyes drift toward the marble towers say otherwise.
The man smirks, reading right through him. "Look, whatever it is you're after—I'm not gonna snitch. The system already screwed me over. Might as well help someone else slip through the cracks."
Angus hesitates, then exhales. "You really want to know?"
"I asked, didn't I?"
"…I'm looking for something. Something called the Void Fragments."
At that, the man's face stiffens. His tone drops, quiet and wary. "The Void Fragments… haven't heard that name in years. Not since they scattered them—what, a couple years ago?"
"Yeah. From what I've gathered, there's supposed to be one in each of the four regions on Dera Final. And supposedly, only one per level of the ship."
The man leans back, eyes narrowed. "That part's true… or at least, that's how the rumors go. But nobody I know's ever gotten close to one. It's like they vanish the moment someone starts looking too hard."
Angus nods slowly. "Then I guess I better not look too hard."
Angus cast one last look at the man before turning to leave, raising a hand in farewell. The journey had begun—now came the search for the fragments of the past.
Back in the Yen Region
Far above the crowded lower streets, past the grime and noise, the halls of power whispered with tension.
White neon lights bathed the ornate chamber in an otherworldly glow. The floors were lined with crimson velvet carpet, immaculate and silent underfoot. At the center of the room stood a modest, polished table—bare, surrounded by empty chairs. The air was thick with quiet tension.
Empress Yuki sat at the head, adorned in a flowing jūnihitoe of deep crimson and black. A large golden circle shimmered on her chest, the same symbol that crowned her rule. Her hair was pinned with obsidian rods, her face calm, cold, unreadable.
She tapped a lacquered nail against the table.
"Hebi."
Across from her, a figure stirred. Hebi, captain of Level One, rose from his seat. His cloak matched her colors—black and red, but his armor underneath was reptilian: tight-fitting, scaled, coiled with menace. A peaked officer's cap shaded his eyes, the same golden insignia gleaming at his core.
"Yes, my Empress. What do you require?"
Yuki leaned forward, her voice like silk over steel. "There's a man... Angus. He's on his way to the Merc Region. He's looking for something. I considered handling the matter personally, but—" she gestured lazily to the room, "—I find myself... occupied."
Her gaze sharpened. "I want you to intercept him. Don't kill him—yet. I want to meet him. Alive. Just for tea."
She paused, then called out over her shoulder.
"Servant."
From the far end of the room, a hunched goblin shuffled into view. His ears were bent and battered, trembling as if they'd been struck more than once. He wore a black vest and tie over a wrinkled white dress shirt, clinging nervously to a silver tray.
"Y-y-yes, Your Grace?" he stammered, already shaking.
"Tea," Yuki said simply. "Fetch me a cup."
"Yes, madam. Right away!" Servant turned on his heel and scurried out, nearly tripping over himself as he disappeared down the corridor.
Yuki turned back to Hebi, her voice colder now. "If you fail to bring Angus to me, I'll have to... handle things myself. And if that happens, he won't be the only one I deal with."
Hebi straightened, bringing both arms across his chest in a slow salute, his fingers pointed skyward like a coiled serpent.
"As you command, Empress."
He bowed low, letting out a quiet hiss between his teeth—just barely audible, like the whisper of a snake in the grass.
Back below—beneath the glittering city where the forgotten go to escape its glow...
Sakura lay on her cot, eyes red, still wiping the tears from her cheeks. It had been nearly 20 hours since Angus left for the Merc Region. The silence in the tent was heavy. Her gaze stayed fixed on the dim fabric ceiling above, unmoving.
Cristalle sat nearby, her voice soft. "You'll be alright. He said he's coming back."
Sakura didn't move. "But what if he dies? Have you thought about that?"
Her voice was hollow. No anger. Just sorrow. A quiet, suffocating kind of grief.
Cristalle tried to stay strong. "He's tough. You've seen what he's been through—he's made it this far. I don't think he's the kind of guy to just go and die."
"But he's not hiding anymore," Sakura said quietly. "He's exposed now. Open. And he's up against everyone. The only reason he survived before was because no one knew what he was. Now they do.
"She sat up slowly, a spark of desperation lighting in her chest. "I can't let him go. I have to find him."
Cristalle stepped in, firm but not unkind. "No. I made him a promise. And I intend to keep it." She hesitated before adding, "Besides, the last time you went out, you almost got kidnapped."
Sakura's voice cracked. "But—"
"No buts," Cristalle cut in, her voice shaking slightly. "I'm not going to let you kill yourself chasing him. I care about you, Sakura... more than him."
There was silence. Then, finally:
"Can I at least walk around the base? I need to get out of this tent... I'm going crazy in here."
Cristalle sighed, folding her arms. "Fine. But I'm watching you. From a distance."
Sakura nodded. "Okay."
She stepped out into the hallway, weaving through the narrow path that led to the black market's lower level. As she walked, her thoughts tumbled into place like broken glass shifting underfoot.
Cristalle's right.
If I go out now, I'll probably be taken again...
Then something darker, riskier sparked.
But... what if I let myself get taken?
Her fingers brushed the top of her forehead. the crest. The royal symbol. Proof of her bloodline. The one thing that could change everything.
If I show the crest... they'll have to recognize me. I'd be crowned Empress.
And then maybe... maybe I'd finally have the power to help him.
Maybe I'd finally have something worth living for.
Without another thought, Sakura broke into a sprint, weaving through the thick crowd like a shadow slipping between cracks. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, but she didn't slow down—not even when she spotted Cristalle in the distance, giving chase.
Crystalline energy shimmered in Cristalle's palms as she raised her arms, sweeping them upward in a fluid motion. Jagged blue crystals erupted from the ground, racing beneath Sakura's feet, encasing her shoes in seconds.
But Sakura was ready.
With a single swift motion, she slipped free—her shoes left trapped inside the growing crystal. Barefoot now, she kept running, the cool metal floor stinging her soles, but she didn't care.
The elevator loomed ahead.
Her eyes locked on it, her mind consumed by one thing—Angus.
He had given her more than a reason to keep going—he had given her purpose. A feeling she never thought she'd have in a world that cast her aside. Now, she would return the favor. She would fight beside him. For him. For them.
No matter what waited on the other side, Sakura was done waiting for change.
She would become it.
With the gates of the Merc Region now behind him, Angus turned toward the next leg of his journey—the transporter at the Center. He made his way to the hover bike he'd hidden beneath a slab of scrap metal, brushing off the grime as he climbed on.
Just as he reached to start it up, his eyes flicked to the meter on the dashboard.
Empty.
"Shit," he muttered. "No credits left."
He let out a breath, glancing back toward the alley. "Maybe that guy's still around…" But after what he'd just told Angus, it was obvious—he didn't have a damn thing either.
The weight of the situation pressed on Angus as he scanned the empty streets—nothing but lifeless faces and the looming gates of the Merc Region behind him. He looked down, then back up, jaw tight. There was nothing left to do but move forward.
"Guess it's on foot," he muttered. "Good thing I've got these."
He pressed the button on the bottom of his boots. A low whir hummed to life as a soft blue glow pulsed beneath his soles. The magnets activated. He took off running, feet locking onto nearby surfaces with each step, letting him climb and sprint across vertical walls. Rooftop to rooftop, he dashed like a shadow over the city.
But after a few minutes, the rush faded into frustration.
"There's gotta be a better way than this…" he thought, panting slightly as he paused on the edge of a building. His eyes traced the jagged skyline ahead—cramped rows of houses vanishing into thick, gray fog.
Then an idea sparked.
"Wait… what if I reverse the polarity?" he said aloud. "It might launch me across."
Only one way to find out.
He moved to the corner of the rooftop, staring out at the endless stretch of buildings. He took a deep breath, bent his knees, and hit the reverse polarity button on his boots.
FWOOOM.
In an instant, his body was hurled forward with terrifying speed. The wind slammed into him like a wall—his ears rang, his face pulled back, and his eyes streamed as he tried to stay focused. The rooftops blurred beneath him, a smear of gray and rust.
And then, the realization hit.
"How the hell am I supposed to land!?"
Time felt like it slowed as he twisted midair, desperately scanning for anything to soften the fall. Below, a loosely secured tarp fluttered atop a squat house.
There. It was risky, but better than concrete.
He shifted his weight, angling his legs toward the tarp. His fingers curled instinctively, bracing.
BOOM!
He crashed through the tarp like a meteor, slamming into the rooftop beneath it. Everything spun. His ears rang louder than ever. Pain bloomed across his body, sharp and immediate. His vision tunneled. Darkness crept in.
Through the blurring haze of his final conscious moments, he saw something move—a towering figure.
An elephant-headed man stood above him, his massive form calm and composed. A large, ornate beaded necklace hung around his neck, each bead the size of a plum and carved with strange symbols. He wore a flowing robe of earth-toned green and brown, draped loosely over
his broad shoulders. His trunk swayed gently, and his eyes narrowed—not with hostility, but with a quiet curiosity.
And then—everything went black.