The overwhelming neon brilliance and the endless labyrinth of floating terraces still held the party in an iron grip. As the synchronized babbling slowly died down and logic returned, Beat was the first to pat down his pockets. His face fell instantly. He pulled his hand back and let his shoulders slump in frustration, fishing out a tiny tuft of white lint from his trouser pocket.
“Guys… small detail,” he muttered, letting the lint drop aimlessly between his fingers. “We’re completely, utterly broke. Not a single coin. How on earth are we going to pay for even a single bite of food here?”
A booming laugh rose from behind them, so deep that it drowned out the soft hiss of the castle gate. King Solomon stepped forward with a broad grin, his heavy footsteps resonating across the platform as he waved his arms wide.
“Did you truly think I would unleash my elite into an unknown world without fuel?” the king spoke, his voice brimming with royal grandeur. “A true warrior does not fight on an empty stomach, and a diplomat does not negotiate empty-handed.”
With a smooth, coordinated movement, the king reached into a large, heavy leather duffel bag hanging from his broad belt. His arm swept back and forth, and with powerful, arcing throws, he tossed one suede pouch after another through the air. The heavy, dull clinking of metal betrayed their contents long before they landed. Everyone caught one with a look of astonishment.
Even for Uktar, a massive pouch of thick cowhide flew through the air. The giant snatched the bag effortlessly out of the sky with one enormous palm, brought it close to his ear, and gave it a vigorous shake. The heavy, thick gold coins clattered loudly against each other, releasing a deep, vibrating rumble of pure satisfaction from his chest. He stared at the pouch as if he had just discovered a new toy.
While the rest enthusiastically examined their fortunes, sliding the heavy coins between their fingers, Silarias narrowed his eyes. The exuberant light of the market reflected in his pupils, but his gaze shot upward, drawn by a strange instinct. He looked past the towering vertical banners that adorned the sides of the buildings with fluid, pulsating neon characters, straight toward a dark, floating terrace hanging in the shadows dozens of meters above. Through the dense, slow stream of blue fireflies, he thought he caught a brief glimpse of a sharp, unnaturally still shade. A silhouette standing motionlessly, peering down at them with cold precision.
Silarias held his breath, blinked sharply, and locked his gaze onto the exact spot. But the terrace was empty. Only the flickering light of a cyan neon tube flashed across the bare stone. He shook his head slowly and let his breath escape. In this immense, pulsating cauldron, it was almost impossible not to become paranoid.
Meanwhile, under loud hydraulic hissing, the Bastion glided into a colossal, specially designated lock. Deeply anchored to the massive outer ring of the Marketplace, this gigantic platform clamped around the fortress with heavy metal locks. This would serve as their unassailable home base, their safe haven, and their anchor in this strange world for the next two years.
The party quickly split up to explore the vast marketplace. Aurelius and Jane walked calmly ahead, their eyes resting on the architecture, closely followed by Lyn and Nicola. Nicola kept a firm grip on Uktar’s large, rough hand, as if guiding a gigantic child through a china shop. At the very front, Miki and Ren darted through the crowd like hyperactive bouncy balls, their eyes flitting from one shimmering display window to the next, until Miki suddenly slid to a halt on her heels. She whipped around toward the group, her eyes wide with a sudden realization.
“Wait a second, everyone stop!” Miki shouted enthusiastically, throwing her arms into the air to catch their attention. “Mentor Juro explained this during that one evening session. He said: if we ever find ourselves blinded, or if we absolutely cannot hear each other over brutal noise, you have to be able to communicate without sound. You have to sign with your hands!”
With a deadly serious expression on her face, she began mimicking Juro’s exaggerated, almost theatrical hand gestures. Planted firmly on her legs, she raised her small hand and looked Uktar dead in the eye, forcing him to lock his attention onto her. With a solemn gesture, she brought her flat palm to her chest and held it still.
“Look closely, big guy,” Miki said clearly. “Flat hand on the chest means: good, safe, or simply ‘yes’. Do you understand?”
Uktar looked at the tiny girl before him with a deep, inquisitive gaze. He raised his own colossal palm,a hand larger than Miki’s entire torso,examined his fingers closely, and brought it toward his massive, scar-covered chest with a slow, heavy motion. Resting his hand there, he leaned back slightly and looked at Nicola with wide eyes, as if searching for a sign of approval.
Miki nodded frantically, her ponytail whipping through the air, before clenching her hand into a tight fist. She struck it against her chest with a dull thud. “Fist on the chest is the exact opposite. That means: bad, danger, or ‘no’!”
Uktar lowered his flat hand, curled his fingers into a fist that looked and felt like a massive wrecking ball, and mirrored the motion. He tapped his chest with surprising gentleness, shaking his head with extreme gravity to show he understood the negative meaning.
Miki beamed completely and then raised her index finger straight into the air. “Index finger up means: agreed, I understand, or I’m on standby!”
Finally, she raised her open hand and waved it quickly and decisively back and forth right before her face. “And this waving means: absolutely not, reject, or stop!”
Uktar watched the demonstration mouth agape. Without anyone prompting him, his giant index finger shot up like a spear, after which he opened his palm and, with a broad, proud grin, waved it rapidly back and forth in the direction of Ren, who stepped backward with a chuckle.
Nicola looked on with arms crossed, his sharp, analytical gaze registering every single detail. A deep, intellectual fascination glinted in his eyes. He remained quiet for a moment, observing the giant laugh at his own success.
So he isn’t stupid at all, Nicola thought to himself, a subtle smile touching his lips. His brain processes abstract communication systems faster than most trained soldiers. This is fascinating… just how far does his capability reach if we eliminate the language barrier entirely?
Lyn and Jane stood staring in pure, open-mouthed astonishment, stunned by how rapidly the brutal berserker was transforming into an interactive member of the group. Aurelius, on the other hand, entirely unfazed, had already walked over to a nearby stall. With deep tranquility, he was paying a handful of heavy coins for a few skewers of steaming, juicy meat smelling of rich spices.
Inspired by Uktar’s surprising intelligence, Nicola decided it was time for a reward. He beckoned Uktar, Miki, and Ren toward a nearby, beautifully illuminated stall emitting a thick, syrupy vapor that smelled of burnt sugar and vanilla. What they received was a visual masterpiece of pure sugar art.
They were gigantic, spiral-shaped cotton candies that didn’t just sit still, but seemed to float gently around their wooden sticks. The sugar strands glowed in fluid shades of neon-cyan and deep cotton-candy pink. The vendor, an old four-armed man, sprinkled the whole creation with fine, edible stardust crystals. As soon as the light from the lanterns touched the cotton candy, the treat pulsated softly to the rhythm of the ambient magic, flashing with tiny, harmless sparks of pure light.
Miki and Ren took a gigantic bite simultaneously. Their eyes nearly rolled back in pure ecstasy; the confection melted on their tongues with a soft explosion of sweetness and a crackling sensation that tingled through their entire mouths. They practically jumped for joy, noisily making the newly learned hand signs to Uktar with their sticky hands. Uktar consumed half of his glowing treat in one massive, satisfied bite, his eyes glistening as he chewed and loyally signed back with his hand flat on his chest.
Meanwhile, on the completely opposite side of the immense Marketplace, Silarias and Nyx strolled down an exclusive, quieter side street. Here, the roar of the crowd was muffled into a constant, distant hum. They were looking for a decent place to eat away from the hectic rush when they stopped before an imposing dark-wood gate decorated with deeply carved golden runes.
The gate was guarded by a creature that looked as if it had stepped straight out of a prehistoric avian realm. The beasthuman stood ramrod straight, chest puffed out. He possessed a sharp, terrifying eagle-like beak that gleamed like polished metal, and his feathers were such a deep black that they seemed to absorb the surrounding light like obsidian. In his talons, he held a massive, heavy clipboard of ancient parchment.
The avian guard eyed the pair with an icy, penetrating, and extremely critical gaze. He swept his eyes over their simple clothing and traveled back up.
“NAMES?!” he snapped in a sharp, rasping voice that sounded like grinding stones, leaving absolutely no room for hesitation or debate.
For a fraction of a second, Nyx was caught off guard by the guard’s bluntness, but it didn’t last. She straightened her back, threw her shoulders back, and assumed the unmistakable, icy posture of pure royalty. Looking the bird straight in his compound eyes, she spoke with a voice that rapidly gained authority: “I… my father is the king of the Timekeepers. We demand entry.”
The avian guard froze as if struck by lightning. His pen hovered mid-air above the parchment. His eagle beak fell wide open, and his talons squeezed the heavy wooden clipboard so unnaturally hard that the wood split down the middle with a loud crack. Without wasting another second, he let the clipboard clatter casually to the ground. He bowed his upper body so low that his sharp beak nearly kissed the stone floor.
“ALWAYS… My deepest, most humble apologies, Your Royal Highness,” the guard spoke in a suddenly hoarse, trembling voice filled with awe. “It is an absolute honor. Please proceed immediately. The gates stand wide open for your presence.”
Nyx didn’t wait another second. She turned to Silarias in one fluid motion, a broad, triumphant, and intensely mischievous grin spreading across her face. Raising her chin, she looked at him and let out a soft, playful “Pffft, haha!” while tossing her hair back.
Silarias let out a deep sigh and rolled his eyes with a laugh, pressing his palm briefly against his forehead. Nyx being Nyx again, he thought with an inner warmth. Even on the other side of the universe, she gets her way simply by existing. He followed behind her as she crossed through the open gate with royal strides.
Inside the reception hall, they were immediately greeted by a penguin-like beasthuman. The creature was shorter than them but radiated pure professionalism. His feathers were mirror-slick and jet-black, clad in a crisp, perfectly starched suit tailored seamlessly to his anatomy. With short, formal, waddling yet utterly elegant steps, he bowed deeply before them.
“Welcome to our establishment, most honored guests,” the penguin spoke in a soft, melodious voice, gesturing with a wing. “If you would follow me to your specially designated table…”
Silarias gave Nyx a slightly desperate, questioning look. Leaning toward her, he muttered in a low, husky voice: “I think all this luxury is fantastic, Nyx… but right now I just have a massive, devouring hunger. I really hope they have normal portions here.”
Nyx smiled broadly, turned halfway around, and delivered a firm, playful nudge with her elbow straight into his stomach. “Calm down, big hero,” she whispered with a soft sparkle in her eyes. “Just enjoy it. This is nice… just the two of us for a moment, without all the chaos around us.”
The penguin led them down a hallway of polished marble toward a gargantuan, heavy door at the end of the corridor. As their footsteps approached the threshold, the embedded runes in the dark wood began to glow a brilliant blue. The doors slid open noiselessly with a soft hiss, revealing a breathtaking, completely secluded room.
“Behold,” the guide spoke with a proud, echoing undertone. “This is the S-list room. Exclusively reserved for the most influential entities of the University.”
Both Silarias and Nyx stepped over the threshold and immediately held their breath. The room was no ordinary dining hall; it was a living masterpiece of serene, prehistoric magic. Hundreds of deep blue fireflies floated in slow, undulating paths through the immense space, their light reflecting off the walls. To the right, a crystal-clear, vertical waterfall cascaded directly from the ceiling into a bottomless pit, yet the water fell in absolute silence, without producing a single splash of sound.
In the exact center of the room stood an ancient, monumental cherry blossom tree. Its branches hung heavy over a wooden dining table. The tree continuously shed its delicate, soft pink petals, but due to a constant, invisible magical draft, the petals never touched the ground. They circulated through the air in a perfect, breathtaking spiral, moving synchronously with the wind currents of the blue fireflies. It formed an endless, mesmerizing dance of pink and cyan light that swirled gently around their table.