"Treasureland Junkyard." Reina repeated. Her finger was tracing a line on the newsprint. "According to this article, it's a realm. A vast space the size of a city, entirely filled with broken things."
She handed the newspaper to Jack. "Not junk in the common sense, mind you. These are broken treasures. Artifacts, wondrous devices, rare materials – all shattered, malfunctioning, or incomplete."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "So, no picking up a fully functional artifact? At all?"
Reina shook her head. "Precisely. The article is quite clear. You won't find anything fully operational. But the value lies in what can be done with the broken pieces. Some items, while damaged, still hold immense potential."
"They can be meticulously repaired, if one possesses the skill and resources. Or, more commonly, they can be broken down further. To extract their raw materials."
She paused. Her gaze was meeting his. "Imagine pulling a shard of pure, extremely rare crystal from a ruined magical conduit. Or salvaging a rare alloy from a collapsed steam-golem. Or gaining a body part of an extinct species."
"Interesting." Jack mused. His practical mind immediately began calculating the possibilities.
Salvaging rare materials could be a goldmine. He had the supernatural trait [Treasure Detecting Radar]. And it fit his burgeoning Steamrune Engineer class, too. He could always use unique components for his projects.
"There are rules, of course." Reina continued. Her tone was more serious. "The Junkyard is a law-based realm. A pretty curious anomaly in the chaotic transcendent world. It explicitly forbids violence."
"What happened if one breaks it?" Jack asked.
"Should a physical clash occur between any two parties, both individuals involved are immediately and forcefully teleported out of the realm." She answered. "And, more importantly, they are permanently banned from ever entering again. It's a harsh penalty, designed to maintain order in what would otherwise be a free-for-all."
"Pretty fair rule." Jack conceded. "It keeps the powerful from just taking whatever they want by force. At least in there."
"Indeed." Reina affirmed. "Furthermore, there's a strict limit on what one can take. Any individual can only hold onto five objects at a time."
"Five?"
"Yes. Attempting to pick up a sixth object will also result in immediate teleportation out of the realm. Though without the permanent ban. It allows for flexibility – you can drop an item to pick up a more valuable one, but you can't hoard."
"Five items." Jack repeated. Committing it to memory. "That's not many. Makes every choice critical."
"Exactly." Reina agreed. "And finally, there's a unique environmental aspect. The Junkyard is a suppression-based place.
She paused. And continued. "The closer one ventures towards its center zone, the greater the aura suppression becomes. Transcendent powers, physical strength, magical might – all are dampened. However, inversely, the quality of the 'junk' also increases the closer you get to the core. High determination, high reward."
Jack leaned forward. Intrigued deeply now. A place of suppressed powers meant physical prowess and willpower would be paramount. Rather than raw magical might.
That played directly into his strengths. Jack Night could navigate such an environment effectively. Well, if it was needed, he could transform into Judge Jack too. As long as there were not too many people there to witness it.
"Where's the gate for this Junkyard?" He asked. A hint of eagerness in his voice.
Reina smiled. "It's within the mansion of Prince Galecrow III. Not a public access point, obviously."
She pointed at the information in the newspaper. "According to the article, there's a rather substantial registration fee to enter the gate. It's quite expensive. But, it explicitly states, it's nothing compared to the potential wealth one could acquire."
Jack snorted. "If the person chooses the correct 'junk' and successfully extracts at least one rare material. Basically, high-stake gambling."
"Well, that's true. Do you want to take the gamble, Dear?"
"Not exactly gambling in my case." Jack mused. He had a cheat after all. "Alright, Love. Sounds like an adventure. We'll go."
...
Three days passed quickly. Jack spent the time planning. And ensuring his gear was in top condition. Reina handled the practicalities of their journey.
On the appointed morning, a public steam carriage stopped in front of the ornate gates of Prince Galecrow III's sprawling estate. Its brass fittings gleaming and its engine hissing softly.
It deposited Jack and Reina, and several other transcendent individuals there.
The pair looked around. Lonestone Capital City was a blend of industrial might and old-world grandeur. And the Prince's mansion sat firmly in the latter category. An evidence to inherited wealth and influence.
The front yard at the moment, however, didn't seem to fit with the grandeur image. It buzzed with activity. A cacophony of hushed conversations. Clanking gears. And the occasional burst of uncontrolled supernatural energy.
More than a hundred people milled about. A rare vibrant place full of transcendent individuals. They wore various attires and bore different arrays of equipment.
Some were cloaked figures. With their faces obscured. Emanating an aura of mystic power. Others were heavily armored. Their great swords or polearms strapped to their backs.
There were lithe, agile type characters with multiple daggers. Some Steamrune Engineers with mechanical body parts. And even a few monk like characters. Ones who seemed to be entirely unburdened. Relying on unseen abilities.
It was a gathering of the curious, the greedy, and the desperate, all drawn by the promise of forgotten treasures.
"Quite the crowd, Dear." Reina murmured. Her eyes were scanning the diverse assembly. Jack nodded. His own gaze taking in the various power signatures he could detect. Silently assessing potential rivals and allies.
They navigated through the throng. Towards a specifically erected, elegant booth near the mansion's entrance. But, suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the background hum.
"Mr. Night? Mrs. Night? Is that truly you?"
They turned to see Nick Glaiver. The Mystic Scholar student of Lonestone University. A wide grin was spreading across his face. He was dressed in tailored but slightly ink-stained academic robes. Carrying a satchel that seemed to bulge with books.
Beside him stood a silent, bespectacled man. One with sturdy build under his simple, practical academic robes. He gave them a curt nod. His expression was unreadable.
"Nick!" Jack greeted. A rare, genuine smile graced his lips. He remembered their joint skirmish against the invasion of cockroach-men during the train incident near Mirebarrow Town. Nick had proven himself capable. Still raw and unexperienced. But quite reliable.
"What's with Mr. Night thing? I've told you. Just call me Jack." He continued.
"Come on, Jack. I'm just trying to be polite." Nick chuckled. Running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. "This is Harold, Harold Mason. My classmate and best friend."
"A pleasure." Jack and Reina said smoothly. Nodding to Harold. Who returned the gesture.
They reached the booth. And, after a brief interaction with an impeccably dressed attendant, paid the exorbitant entrance fees.
With their tickets secured, they joined Nick and Harold in the wide front yard. Waiting for the mansion's main door to open.
"So, you two are here for the Junkyard, too?" Nick asked. Adjusting his glasses. "It's been the talk of the university's transcendent circles for weeks. Rumors flying around about what people might find."
"Well, you know we're not from here." Jack replied. "We found about this in Aether Daily. What's the big draw, besides 'broken treasures'?"
Nick's eyes lit up. His scholar's enthusiasm was taking over. "It's opened only once every seven years, you see. It's an irregular alignment of spatial energies, apparently. It lasted for three days. Most students in our 'major' usually come in the second day."
"Why don't you join them?"
Nick grinned. "Er... well..."
"He wants to impress a girl." Harold chimed in.
Jack smiled widely. "Ah, you wants to scout first. Then, later boasts about it?"
Nick just smiled awkwardly. Then, he leaned in conspiratorially. "Come on. Enough about me. Let's talk about the Treasureland Junkyard."
"So, what do you know abut the Junkyard? Other than the one already in he newspaper." Reina asked.
"Do you know the result for last time it was opened?" Nick leaned forward. "Seven years ago, a man had managed to bring out a profoundly damaged sword artifact. It was utterly ruined. A hilt and a few inches of twisted metal."
"And then?" Reina asked.
"It was too damaged to ever be fixed. Even by the most skilled artificers. But this alchemist… he didn't care about fixing it. He managed to extract something else from it."
Nick paused for dramatic effect. His voice was dropping to a near whisper. "He gained a piece of Falling Star Mithril. A legendary material. Said to be forged from the very essence of a star that fell from the heavens. Incredibly rare. Unbelievably strong. And very expensive."
Jack's eyes narrowed. Falling Star Mithril. He had heard of it. The material was almost mythical in reputation. He wanted that too.
"There are other stories, too." Nick continued. Warming to his subject. "Our senior sister found what appeared to be a shattered ley-line compass. Useless for navigation. But the fragments of mystic crystal within it allowed her to construct a great focusing array for her earth magic."
Nick went on. Excitedly recounting various tales of lucky individuals. Those who had managed to pull out valuable junks. Or transforming broken relics into personal fortunes or powerful tools.
Harold Carpenter stood silently. Occasionally adjusting his glasses. A passive observer to Nick's passionate recounting.
The anticipation in the crowded yard grew palpable. People shuffled their feet. Checked their equipment. And spoke in low, eager tones. The sun was rising higher. Casting long shadows across the manicured lawns.
Then, a sudden, resonant sound cut through the air. A deep, rich, loud bell, emanating from within the mansion. Echoing across the grounds. It was a summons. A signal.
Almost immediately... The massive, ornate front door of the mansion slowly opened.
Two imposing guards appeared and stood on either side of the threshold. One of them, a man with a booming voice spoke.
"Attention, invited realm-divers! The spatial gate within the mansion is now active! Present your tickets at the entrance! Proceed with caution, and may your delves be fruitful!"
A collective murmur rippled through the crowd. Quickly followed by a surge of movement. The waiting had ended.
The Treasureland Junkyard lay open. A realm of broken wonders and untold potential,