The streets are lit with neon lights, and different songs are playing on every corner. Bars, restaurants, and late-night entertainment of anything one desires line the streets, with towering skyscrapers high above stacking hundreds of floors into the air. I follow the flow of people to fit in, making my way into one of the largest nightclubs in this small portion of the city. Rhythmic beats compete with the loud noises of laughter, cheers, clapping, and dancing, while I'm hit with a heavy air pressure shift of pure mana as I walk through the doors. It's easily five times as dense with mana in here, making for an exhilarating rush for the average citizen once they're inside. Tables filled with bright-colored drinks, bottles on fire, and private dancers fill my vision as I walk through the crowds of people, using my inspect skill to follow the trail of money and power as best I can. Most of the people in this club are over level 100, meaning they most likely earn far more than the average citizen dungeon diving. However, the main floor is filled with level 100-250 hunters and some well-dressed unawakened businessmen. All of the C-Grade and above migrate toward the back of the club, where the private rooms are. I approach and see a woman in tight clothing with shots of drinks and bright neon-glowing pills walking around, offering samples to all the parties entering the private lounge area. Many hunters take them down in a single gulp, as well as the unlabeled pills, and their eyes dilate, their smiles growing as they move through the privately sectioned-off portion of the club. As I place the coin on the counter, I feel the gaze of the old man across the bar on me once more. He's sitting alone, not speaking to anyone, but as his eyes meet the gold coin, they widen, and he briskly gets up, heading over to me. I think nothing of it, addressing the woman with a polite tone. "I don't have my card on me today; this should more than cover my drinks." The young woman picks up the gold coin with a puzzled look, examining it closely before smiling and setting it back in front of me. "It's an interesting artifact, sir, but you and I both know Central Credits are the only accepted payment here." I open my mouth to object, but the old man steps in, flashing his silver card, speaking in a tense, worried voice. "My grandson sure is a jokester, isn't he? Here, drinks on me tonight. I think it's time we head home, don't you?" His gaze is locked on the gold coin, and he whispers in my ear. I pull the coin from the counter, accepting that my gut instincts were right, this place is too good to be true. The woman laughs, playing along with the old man's excuse, and scans his card. We leave the lounge in a hurry, with him leading the way. As we make our way through the loud noise and dancing of the main club room, he yells in my ear through the blaring music. "There's a manual surveillance check done every hour on the hour. Either you know exactly what you're getting yourself into, or this is the first place you've come, and you have no idea how much danger you're in." We step out onto the street, and he takes a sharp left turn away from the crowded main road. Reflexively, I put up a hush barrier around us, strong enough to keep out the ears of even the strongest A-Class hunters with awakened divine cores. Its aura is masked by my stealth skill. The world around us fades into muffled sounds, and the old man realizes what I've done as I reply. "I am a foreigner, yes. But what's the issue with that? Outsiders can't pay with gold?" His eyes widen further, and he takes a few more steps down a quieter street lined with shops that only operate in the daytime before he answers. "How did you survive—and what's it like out there? Is it true? Did the world really burn when the Demons took over after the war?" My mouth opens, but I'm at a loss, attempting to process his questions. He doesn't wait for me to answer, continuing down the street. "No one leaves Central because... well, there's no other place in the world to go..." He glances at my item box, where I pulled my coin from earlier. "I haven't seen a currency like that since the Great War, and it's been... well, I don't even know how long. But please, tell me—how did you survive in a world plagued with eternal flames?" I stop, widening my aura of perception. I listen to the surface level conversations of everyone nearby, even in neighboring districts and distant cities. At first glance, he seems crazy, but as I sift through millions of conversations, not one mentions traveling outside Central City. To everyone here, this is the entire world. It's cut off from any other civilization. Now, as I gaze at the flaming moat surrounding the elevated mountain in my mind's eye, it does seem as if the world beyond has been scorched, and this is the last remaining sanctuary. Mass manipulation, endless propaganda, strict regulation, and growth of a society built entirely for the Association's control. The possibilities here for those in power seem almost limitless when every citizen believes they are the chosen survivors of a world-ending disaster. I slowly respond, "Do you really want to know? The truth may be worse than you think." The old man stops, a wide smile on his face. I sense only anticipation and the long-held curiosity of someone who has waited decades for answers. "Yes. I must know the truth. I lived a life before the war, and another after. I have no family or friends left, and not many years remain. Whatever reality lies outside of Central, knowing it would finally bring me peace." His eyes sparkle as I reply. "Well then, of course there's a vast world beyond the flames..." We continue down the street as I describe the world I've explored. He listens intently, growing more nostalgic with every detail. Whether it's the drinks and drugs he consumed earlier, his steps grow slower, and his mental state weakens the further we move from the bar. It's as if he's longed for this moment his entire life, savoring a sense of bliss. But our conversation is abruptly interrupted by a flashing light on his wristwatch, soon mirrored by blinking signals on every street corner. I sense a ripple through the mana surveillance network, and the old man stops, turning to bow before me. "Well, this is the end for me, I fear. Please, don't feel guilty. I have finally found peace thanks to you. The world I once knew really does live on." I'm puzzled, but his words begin to make sense as he raises his head. The man's eyes, nose, and mouth are bleeding; but he keeps a wide smile and gives out the emotions of nothing but happiness. Join the discussion! Login to share your thoughts and connect with other readers. No comments yet. Be the first to comment!