Chapter 14: Is This Jealousy?
Stepping into the stronghold, the low hum of concealed machinery vibrated beneath Terrchel's feet. The air, though confined, carried the faint, earthy scent of damp soil and repurposed metals, a stark contrast to the sterile gleam of New Arcadia City. As they entered the main common area, a green-haired male emerged from the shadows, his frame lean but deceptively strong. He stretched out a hand towards Terrchel, but his gaze, wide and bright, was fixed on Meriella. "Welcome home, Meriella," he said, a warmth in his voice that made Terrchel's stomach clench. "And... you must be the famous reincarnated Flyman." His eyes finally shifted, landing on Terrchel with an almost clinical curiosity.
Terrchel's gaze darted to Meriella, a sudden understanding washing over him. When she said, "We home," she actually meant she lives here in The Undergrid. He extended his hand awkwardly, a faint smile touching his lips as he realized the green-haired man shared a subtle resemblance to himself – the unsettling echo of Arnold Maximus. "Emerson, you must be my son," he joked, the words tumbling out before he could reconsider. But the silence that followed was piercing, heavy with Emerson's serious demeanor. This wasn't a place for casual banter.
A prickle of unease, hot and unfamiliar, began to spread through Terrchel's chest. Based on how Emerson welcomed Meriella back, the way his eyes lingered on her, is there something between them? He hadn't even considered the possibility of Meriella being in a relationship. He hadn't asked. But surely, she wouldn't have kissed him if she was with someone... Right? She'd made so many flirtatious jokes throughout their journey, he'd just assumed she was interested and single. Now, a wave of foolishness washed over him. Why did she kiss me then? Is this normal in Arcadia amongst humans?
"Terrchel, right?" Emerson's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp enough to pull him back to the present. "Leghorn warned me that some side effects of your reincarnation are zoning out, but I didn't expect it to be this bad."
Terrchel snapped back to reality, realizing he was still shaking Emerson's hand, lost in the swirling thoughts of their potential relationship. The budding jealousy coiled tighter in his gut. He pulled his hand away abruptly, the realization stinging. Emerson, noticing the shift in Terrchel's body language, raised his eyebrows, a sheepish, almost knowing expression on his face.
"Well, yeah, that's part of why I agreed to come see you," Terrchel said, forcing a steady tone. "So let's get straight to the point, but first, where is my dear friend Leghorn?".
Emerson gestured down a dimly lit corridor. "Follow me, let's get comfortable, and welcome to our humble home." A warm smile softened his features as he looked at Meriella, a gesture that didn't escape Terrchel's notice.
Meriella sidestepped, falling into pace beside Terrchel, her shorter legs a cute blur trying to match his stride. She looked up at him, her eyes bright with enthusiasm, and began to give him a rundown of the hideout. "Em' made this place a home for the pillagers crew and I. We were the first to leave The New Arcadia City, after my brother, Lawrence Abstainace, took over my Father's legacy of Presidency; separating the two parts of the city."
As she spoke, Terrchel found himself admiring the way she used hand gestures, her fingers dancing in the air as she explained and pointed out everything. He wasn't really listening to her words, his mind still preoccupied, but she continued. "We allied ourselves with like-minded individuals who prefer working with their hands and clinging to the old ways of living."
They walked deeper into the hideout. Meriella pointed out a storeroom overflowing with preserved foods, and next to it, a bustling working station. Figures in gumboots, hairnets, gloves, and masks worked with delicate, paced speed, processing and preserving food. "We grow our own food, and we have groups designated to different tasks."
Terrchel glanced to the opposite side of the hideout, where a makeshift room held a dedicated space focused on what appeared to be herbology. "This is where we mix herbs together to make our own medication. Arcadia only offers chemical-infused shots, but people like you, humans without any artificial augmentation or enhancements, can't use those, so you're left to die without treatment."
"I'm part of the scouts," Meriella explained, her voice gaining a professional edge. "I keep tabs on everything going in and out of both The New Arcadia City and The Undergrid. I bring the intel back here, and Em sends the Rovers to retrieve our findings."
Terrchel simply nodded, acknowledging her words, though his mind still wandered. Why does she call him 'Em' but calls me by my full name?
She continued, oblivious to his internal debate, "Sometimes it's items the Elite Arcadians deem as obsolete, and sometimes it's special case missions. Like you. We aim to be peaceful in all we do, but we always prepare for war down here."
Meriella moved a red curtain aside, revealing a room, but Terrchel stopped dead in his tracks. He didn't follow. She noticed his feet hadn't moved and turned back, a hint of confusion in her eyes, to tell him to come inside. He was taken aback by being classified as a "special mission." He wanted to ask if he was just a special mission to her, but the words choked in his throat. He slowly entered the meditation room.
Leghorn was there, bowed down on a mat. Terrchel heard him murmur "Amen" and then, sensing his presence, Leghorn rose to his feet. There was a moment of hesitation, a slight lean forward as if he wanted to hug Terrchel, but he caught himself. He must have sensed Terrchel's guarded body language.
Terrchel offered a stiff nod, a silent greeting that avoided physical contact. But Meriella, with a burst of childlike excitement, jolted past him and leaped into Leghorn's arms, wrapping herself around him.
The scene before him threw Terrchel into a spiral of confusion. Betrayal burned in his chest, making him feel like an outsider, tricked into some plot he didn't understand. Leghorn knew Meriella, yet he hadn't mentioned a single word about her, even when Terrchel tried to figure out who she was after landing in Arcadia. And Emerson, "Em," was overly friendly with Meriella too, and clearly, she'd known everyone here for a long time. So, he was the only one tripping over his own feet, blindly trying to piece together things everyone else already knew.
Are they trying to make a joke out of me because I'm a fly reincarnated? he seethed internally. Do they see me as unworthy, or is my new life just a SPECIAL MISSION? What is the point of any of this? Leghorn was sent to keep him in check, and... His mind was overstimulated at this point. He simply didn't want to think any further or deeper about any of this.
His emotions turned numb, a cold detachment spreading through him. He nonchalantly pointed a finger at each of them, his eyes moving from Leghorn to Meriella, then to Emerson, and back to Meriella. "Sooo, basically, you guys all know each other. What's going on here?" His voice came out obnoxiously pessimistic, though inside, a wave of nausea hit his stomach.
Before anyone could answer, he decided to leave the room, uncaring. The last thing he saw before turning his back on them were their blank stares. He had come here for answers about this whole classified reincarnation, about removing Arnold's memories, or at least stabilizing his own, but now, he wasn't sure if it was even worth it. Leghorn had already betrayed him, and now Meriella. He just needed some air.
He walked out of the meditation room and took a staircase leading to a rooftop of a broken-down building. When he reached the highest point, he sat on the ledge, his legs dangling in the air. A cool breeze hit him, whipping his hair in all directions. All the overthinking hurt his head, but the breeze was refreshing.
Below, a desolate city sprawled out—half broken down, half glowing with artificial lights, with nature slowly reclaiming the land. He knew The Undergrid was filled with those who didn't fit the mold of New Arcadian society due to wealth, beliefs, or status. It was a city separated for misfits and outcasts, where the discarded and disillusioned found solace in the darkness. A home for those who came to commiserate about the meaninglessness of life, not wanting to be held up to New Arcadia's standards. Yet, here, in the heart of The Undergrid, Meriella, alongside Emerson, seemed to have built something meaningful for these people. A beacon of hope, he guessed, in these desperate times of struggle for freedom and power throughout Arcadia.
He couldn't help but think about how fragile life was. One moment, you're flying high; the next, you're fighting for your life. Kind of like the state of Arcadia. This hideout seemed to be the only good thing happening down here. Sitting on this ledge was a sobering experience, but it also made him want to appreciate the beauty of life and the importance of living in the moment, not getting lost in the madness around him. The New Arcadians were like controlled puppets without any free will; they mindlessly followed whatever they were told and given without thinking about what was happening because they didn't care. Their status and wealth were all that mattered, while The Undergrid Arcadians were unbalanced and unstable in many aspects, seen in the state of the city and its people. There was no order and harmony in Arcadia, and nobody seemed to be seeing the bigger picture. He knew he was only human for a short period of time now, but all of this felt wrong. Surely, he wasn't reincarnated just to experience this kind of chaotic life. All the effort that was put into giving him life... Everyone else here was given that same breath, but they didn't seem to see it.
He closed his eyes to fully take in the atmosphere.
As Terrchel stood atop the crumbling Undergrid building, he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, letting the symphony of scents wash over him. The dampness of moss clung to the air, its earthy fragrance intertwining with the sweet, heady aroma of herbs wafting from the makeshift herbalist corner below. The acrid tang of dirt and oil hung heavy; Terrchel immediately knew The Undergrid part of Arcadia must have had industrial roots before the rebuilding of the City. The distant crackle of fire from a cooking pit or blacksmith's forge added a warm, golden note to the mélange. There must be a blacksmith close by that he hasn't seen yet, he told himself, knowing his senses were never wrong.
As he listened, the rowdy, distant echoes of crowds in the alleyways below rose up like a tide, a cacophony of laughter, shouts, and music that seemed to reverberate deep within Terrchel's chest, connecting him to the vibrant, pulsing heart of The Undergrid.
Terrchel heard footsteps approaching. He knew it was Leghorn but stayed facing the view in front of him until he saw Leghorn appear next to him and sit down on the ledge as well.
"Do you hear that? The music... What is it?" Terrchel asked, his voice softer than before.
"It's called prave, an Undergrid favorite," Leghorn replied, a rare hint of appreciation in his tone.
"The culture they have going on here is definitely a comfortable mix between everything in one place," Terrchel observed.
"Yeah, I guess you could say so," Leghorn conceded, taking the opportunity to check in on Terrchel's progress, assuming his engagement in conversation meant he had calmed down. "The Light Realm has been watching you closely. I was informed by General Leghorn that you've leveled. Care to pull up the stats?"
Terrchel avoided eye contact and pulled up his Swatch nonchalantly, commanding his abilities levels to be analyzed and displayed in a hologram table format.
Here's a list of your current abilities and strengths levels, Master Terrchel:
* Compound Eyesight: Level 2
* Acute Sense of Smell: Level 3
* Agility and Reflexes: Level 2
* Fly's Instinct: Level 2
* Swarm Sense: Level 3
* Regenerative Resilience: Level 1
* Environmental Adaptation: Level 2
* New ability detected: Energy-infused projectiles and Chrono-Swarm technique.
"You've improved tremendously in the time we've spent apart," Leghorn noted, his eyes widening as he read the last two entries. "But wait, the last two new abilities... those can only be obtained through celestial energy! How could you have possibly unlocked the power to channel these techniques?"
"None of this was by my choice, of course," Terrchel retorted, a bitter edge to his voice. "I don't even understand most of what's going on."
"Sometimes you need to face things alone to improve rapidly," Leghorn stated.
"I wasn't alone, remember," Terrchel snapped back, turning to face him fully. "Meriella was by my side. We fought The Temporal Guardians."
"Those guys aren't a joke!" Leghorn exclaimed, a rare tremor in his voice. "They've been on the mission since before I joined The Light Realm. Meriella being by your side must have unlocked these powers somehow in you. Her Celestial Energy must have propelled the atmosphere on an atomic level."
Terrchel's gaze hardened. "This same mission that I'm somehow a part of years later... What if I wanted to experience a normal human life, with a family and a home? Not unlocking powers and fighting interdimensional beings. Arnold had the opportunity to have those things, but he wasted his life on science and pursuing Arcadia, which only brought him an unfulfilled life. He neglected his family and was never home enough to enjoy it. I don't want to be focused on the wrong things and miss this opportunity given to me... To live a meaningful life. As a fly, I lived as you all are now, just doing your duty, but it doesn't feel right living that way now that I'm human."
"You have to complete your assignment. You were reincarnated for a reason," Leghorn insisted, his voice firm.
"Is that all you guys care about?" Terrchel demanded, rising to his feet. "Me completing some God-given assignment that I don't understand, but everyone seemingly does!"
Leghorn sighed, his voice laced with weariness. "I don't know what you're expecting? Arcadia is falling apart. The mission comes first. The balance of the realms is at risk, and I have to do everything to fix this. It's my duty."
"I thought you cared about me as a Human, not just whatever experiment is happening here," Terrchel accused, his voice thick with hurt. "I thought we were friends! Why didn't you just tell me about Meriella and Emerson? Why do you continue letting me find things out on my own and keeping me in the dark, making me work for the truth?"
"You don't understand, I'm from The Light Realm," Leghorn stated, his voice calm, attempting to explain the weight of his responsibilities.
"What exactly is your point!?" Terrchel's agitation flared.
"I'm given instructions and need to obey it without getting emotionally invested and interfering when it's not my place," Leghorn explained patiently. "You're human now, and humans need to make their own decisions and learn things on their own in order to grow. If I keep telling you everything and guiding you all the way, holding your hand, then you'll never reach your full potential."
"So you presume that treating me like an objective is the most appropriate way to do what you think is best for me, or rather what's best for Arcadia," Terrchel countered, his voice rising. "What if having genuine friends is what I needed to grow and ease into this whole human thing! Why should everything be about being better, doing better? Can't we have meaningful moments in this meaningless life and still reach our full potential!!"
Terrchel stood over the seated Leghorn, his face red with anger, jaw clenched. Shortly after, Leghorn rose to his feet to meet Terrchel's furious gaze. Terrchel's eyes were filled with hurt, which made Leghorn sad, and his tone turned empathetic. "Terre," Leghorn began, his voice softening. "Last time I had an important mission here in Arcadia... I let my emotions get involved. I thought making a decision based off how I felt would be doing something good, but sometimes bad things need to happen in order for greater good to be achieved."
"I'm not entirely sure I agree with that," Terrchel said, shaking his head. "The least you could do is tell me what happened? Why do you keep insisting you need to fix something that was done? Maybe that way I'd understand you better."
Leghorn's expressions softened. He realized that despite keeping Terrchel at arm's length, Terrchel thought of him as a friend and actually wanted to understand him. "Well, let's go back inside; it's cold out here, and it's a long story so we might as well get comfortable for it."
"I don't want to be inside the hideout at the moment," Terrchel replied, shaking his head. "Let's go to Cybro's Pizza Den instead. I'm starving. I don't remember when last I ate, but you're paying, and I'm still upset, just so you know."
Leghorn gave Terrchel a slight smile and nodded in agreement. They made their way back down the stairs on the building they were on, passing through the meditation room to reach the hideout tunnel that would lead to the rest of The Undergrid. While passing by, Terrchel spotted Meriella in a corner of the room, laughing with Emerson. She caught a glimmer of Terrchel passing by and smiled at him, but he remained cold and immediately looked away without acknowledging her. Her smile immediately dropped, and the tension in the atmosphere between the two of them was uncanny.