Standing in an uncharted underground passage, Ails observed the underground ruins.
Corridors cast entirely from a metal far surpassing steel, a monolithic framework assembled from metal plates, constituted a highly efficient method of construction.
Before the great destruction of Abield’s world, civilization must have been a magnificent presence that had ventured beyond the gravity well. During that era, this world had yet to experience Transcendent invasions; mortals were the world’s most ordinary yet most magnificent beings. With their knowledge and hands, they built a great civilization, launched themselves into space, and erected such intricate underground structures—entities that made their civilization grand in their most vulnerable form.
But in the end, they were destroyed. This world has long since lost the historical records from before the catastrophe. Everything that remains, only survives amongst the ruins.
Ails’s skeletal hand caressed the letters on the corridor wall, Regen, where only these few letters remained clear. The ones that followed had become very blurred. The passage of time may have failed to corrode the metal, but the paint could not last as long. It began to peel, eventually ushering the history of this place into the purgatory of the ignorant.
·What a grand civilization this Underground City was built by.
Pushing open a door, Ails saw a small room. The frames of furniture were still there, but mostly, only the frameworks remained, having been smoothed over by time. Some might be taken away by fortunate adventurers who come here, while others might be destroyed by the Chaos and Spirits that come and go.
Picking up a small metal frame from a desk-like little metal stand, Ails did not know its purpose, but as one who had once lived, he felt that it must have been cherished by the owner, otherwise it would not have been placed within such easy reach.
·Time will eventually take everything around you and me and turn you and me along with this era into a history known as the past.
Ails reflected as he reached the corridor, where several Crowned Lords dragged a skeletal knight past. Ails extended his finger bones and lifted the skull, which housed a crimson Soul Fire.
·Tell me, where you are, fleeing won’t solve problems. Learn to confront me, my dear fellow, that is the only way to resolve all this.
Ails knew that the Wizard was watching through his subordinate, so he spoke in this manner while waiting for an answer.
Regrettably, his fellow was too cautious. In the end, he actively severed the soul link with the knight and also snuffed out the knight’s Soul Fire.
But upon contemplating the soon-to-be-extinguished crimson Soul Fire, Ails, after a thought, raised his hand—he reignited the knight’s Soul Fire.
·How pitiable you are, knight. You were but a disposable tool for your former master, a person who will no longer feel sorrow. How would you evaluate your past?
He stepped back and signaled his Crowned Lords to release the knight.
They did as instructed, and Ails watched the knight’s choice, which did not disappoint him. The skeletal knight dismantled the last two ribs from his rib cage, fashioned a small crown, and placed it upon his own skull.
The old crimson Soul Fire was extinguished, and the next second, a ghostly blue Soul Fire burst into life within its eye sockets, igniting a new Soul Fire, bestowing a new sense of purpose. The newly inaugurated Crowned Lord joined the ranks behind the others.
·I am beginning to wonder whether that Prairie Elf sent me here to destroy you or to save you.
Ails mumbled to himself, eyeing the dark depths of the corridor. With a flick of his hand, Ghouls began to advance, followed by the Crowned Lords, while Archers and Mages moved ahead in silence.
Surrounded by Banshees, Ails began to move forward as the ladies started to sing, launching their attack against the Spirits lurking in the shadows.
Walking through the corridor and entering a vast, empty space, Ails spotted new letters.
Similar to what he saw in the previous corridor, but these were longer and had more indecipherable letters.
Ails gazed at the line of letters, watched the still-operating holographic projections, looked at photo after photo, and in the end, a sigh from deep within his soul swept across the space.
·If history is eternal, can a history that is unremembered by anyone truly be considered eternal?
Just like his own fallen nation, a world obliterated by the Tide of the Dead, its history, all that it had endured, and the civilizations and individuals it represented, had passed away. Only Ails still remembered them.
·If one day I die completely, does the world I lived in... cease to exist?
Ails asked himself, but he had no answer.
When Malin first descended into the Underground City, his only impression was that it was bustling. The corridors, while not exactly roomy, were wide enough for five or six people to walk abreast; shops lined both sides of the passages. These little shops usually had a large, roll-up window and a metal door. Shopkeepers within either sold various items or purchased certain materials.
"Really bustling, nothing like the Underground City I had imagined," Logan said, observing adventurers sitting or standing along the corridor: "By the way, are these the Tech Hunters?"