Location: Retro Café – Deca Street, Morleus Town, Ilivain Country, Teratos Earth
Lucifer entered the neon-lit interior of Retro Café, nestled on the buzzing lane of Deca Street. Virtual menus floated overhead, AI baristas scanned orders in silent precision. Behind the counter stood a stout man with cyber-goggles and a bio-tinted apron—Café Owner Zebth.
Lucifer stepped forward.
"Sir Zebth," he said politely, "may I apply as a part-time worker?"
Zebth raised a brow.
"You're well dressed. Sharp cut. You sure you're not police? Never seen you two around."
Lucifer responded calmly,
"We're not police. We're from the Ferto Continent—very far. My name is Luci Avare Fet, and he is Viro Fet. We were nobles… but we've lost everything."
"Our estate was seized in a war. We escaped through the Sea Route to survive."
Zebth's face softened.
"Oh, the Fet line? My ancestors hail from the same blood. Government betrayed your clan 50 years ago. You were set up to lose that war."
He nodded, decisive.
"Here's the deal. First, make your Futerstoc ID. Then go buy a mobile—use advance salary: 500 Cosmos Bills. You'll both report daily at 5hr (noon), and again at 9hr (night)."
He handed them a brochure.
"Buy local clothes—the Broch line, top fashion from Ferto-inspired designs. Blend in."
"Start today evening," Zebth said sternly. "Miss a shift and I punish—no excuses."
Lucifer smiled.
"Understood, sir. We'll report as promised."
He called to Viron, already scanning the nearby street.
"Let's move. He mentioned something at that nearby shop… I'm curious what this world considers everyday essentials."
Location: ID Scenter – Central Registry, Morleus Town
Lucifer and Viron stepped into the glass-framed lobby of the ID Scenter, where holographic ads for language converters flickered across the walls. Behind a levitating desk sat an aged registrar with silver cyber-rings around his eyes—Mivorus, keeper of biometric restoration.
Lucifer spoke with calm urgency,
"Sir, we're migrants. We escaped from Fetto, crossed without a legal passport. We've lost everything. Can you make us new identities?"
Mivorus leaned back.
"Ah… Fetto nobility, survivors without clearance. Harsh fate." He squinted. "What's your education?"
Lucifer answered clearly,
"Luci Avare Fet. Age 28. race : Human. Gender: Male. Education: University Graduate. Kingdom status: Lost."
Mivorus handed him a data-sheet, glowing pale blue.
"Read, sign, and step into the imprint chamber."
Lucifer moved toward the pod but hesitated.
"Can I enter now?"
The old man nodded. "Proceed."
Inside the chamber, Viron whispered, "This isn't our language. How do we understand it?"
Lucifer replied,
"The spoken tongue is simple—but their written script diverges. This is Futerish—the evolved language of Futurestoc. Not Andrish, our home tongue."
Viron looked confused.
"But Andrish was crafted by Andrus, the literary king…"
Lucifer smirked.
"True. But Futerish adapts through mana tech and 9th Circle rune casting. Watch."
Lucifer raised his hand over the document. Glowing inscriptions sparked as the Mana Rune Language activated. The symbols shimmered, spun into glowing particles, and flowed directly into his mind.
📥 He now understood and signed. Viron did the same, absorbing the rune language as his eyes flashed with luminous data rings.
A second later, their ID chips emerged, freshly imprinted with Futurestoc Approval.
Mivorus handed them each a gleaming silver Fet-origin brooch.
"Wear this. Else, locals won't read your origin status. Race code? Simple. All are human. But 'black' identifiers imply higher physical strength—used by governments for military entry protocols. You two are 'white-type'—civilians like us. No misjudgments."
He leaned in.
"Welcome to Futurestoc. Don't lose yourselves."
Lucifer nodded.
"We won't."