"Elion," he replied, averting his gaze.
Eshrod brushed her hair back.
"You an Unlocked too?"
Is she serious right now?
Barely containing his annoyance, Elion shrugged.
"Why else would I be here?"
"Right…"
He used the short silence to pull out his laptop, setting it on the small table in front of them, hoping she'd stop talking if he looked busy.
"Huh, what are you working on?" she asked, scooting closer to peer at the screen.
Don't you know about personal space, woman?
She was uncomfortably close... and her body was… well, well-built…
Why the hell am I thinking about that?!
Elion shook his head and said sternly,
"Could you stay on your side of the seat?"
"Why? I'm just looking at the screen. Or is it something else that's bothering you?" she teased.
Elion's cheek flushed slightly, though he masked his flustered state well.
What's that supposed to mean? Is she insane?
Eshrod chuckled and leaned back, finally giving him space, though her gaze still lingered, waiting for an answer.
He sighed.
"I'm working on a thesis about the Third Age. I started researching it not long after beginning university."
"Oh! Did you go to White Feather?"
He nodded.
"I have a friend there. Maybe you know him."
"It's a big school. I doubt it."
"Heh, guess so…"
Finally, she went quiet, pulling a novel from her bag and leaning back to read.
Elion caught snippets of conversation drifting from the other passengers:
"Did you hear about that group that went after the Third Finger and vanished?"
"Yeah, I saw it on the news… Still don't get why anyone would chase strength so recklessly—leaving everything behind like that."
"Well, it's kind of alluring, isn't it? Knowing you could stand at the pinnacle of the human race…"
"If you ever go after the Third Finger, just know I'm not going with you."
"Chill... I'm not dumb enough to give in to temptation."
The wagon fell quiet again. Even the faint rattle of the train seemed to dim for a moment.
Will I ever attempt to find the Third Finger?
He shook his head.
Doubt it.
He turned to the window. Darkness passed by, occasionally interrupted by distant lights that seemed dim at first glance, though they were actually very powerful. He'd be stuck here for the next two days, sharing space with questionable company…
There were no planned stops. The train was built to run continuously, as stopping in the wilds, where the influence of Nexus weakened, was practically begging for an attack.
About nine hours into the ride, Elion was jolted awake by a loud bang. The entire wagon shuddered. Alarms blared, rousing everyone. Through the window, flashes of steel and the soundless muzzle flashes of gunfire lit up the shadows.
Sound was muffled by the thick windows, but the force of each impact could still be felt through the floor.
"So, this is how the Unlocked of Nexus fight," Eshrod said, leaning in beside him to catch a glimpse of the chaos.
The train shook violently as something slammed into the side beneath their window. The groan and snap of twisting metal echoed. A figure rose from the wreckage—a tall man with short gray hair and youthful features. He wore black leather-like armor, a pauldron bearing the insignia of the Nexus Central Service on his right shoulder.
He wiped blood from his face, a long curved sword dripping with dark crimson liquid.
Elion blinked, and the man was already gone, leaving behind a swirl of dust.
The clash outside continued in flashes and thuds before falling into eerie silence. No one in the wagon spoke. Even breathing came in sharp, hushed bursts.
The gray-haired Unlocked returned, carrying the corpse of a massive beast. It was nearly five meters long, its emaciated body pitch black, marked by glowing crimson lines that snaked over its torn flesh. Its head looked like a hybrid between a dragon and a wolf, with two curved horns—one of which was broken at the base.
Others followed him, battered but alive, likely hauling the carcass to one of the rear cargo wagons. Creatures like that were valuable—used for crafting weapons and armor.
A few minutes later, the train rumbled back to life, moving forward like nothing had happened. There were no announcements. No one died? Then keep going. Even if someone had, they'd probably just dump the body to save space.
Some of the newly Unlocked looked shaken. Others whispered in hushed tones. Eshrod just fell back asleep like nothing happened.
Elion pulled out a book and read under the dim overhead light. At one point, Eshrod's head slumped onto his shoulder, drool seeping onto his jacket. He tried pushing her off, even shaking her, but nothing worked.
It was like she was doing it on purpose.
Eventually, he gave up and slumped down to get some rest himself.
Time passed. Another skirmish occurred. This one ended quickly—the slain creature wasn't even worth storing, so it was simply tossed off the tracks.
After two long days and many one-sided conversations with the stupid woman beside him, the train finally arrived in Goreth.
The darkness of the tunnel lifted, revealing gray buildings, cranes, and cargo.
Everyone disembarked. The gray-haired Unlocked stood nearby, speaking with his team.
Then a tall woman with flowing black hair and crimson eyes approached the group. She looked around twenty-five—stunningly beautiful, yet something in her aura sent a chill through everyone.
"I am Shera of Uru. I'll be escorting you to S33," she said, her voice calm but commanding.
Eshrod grinned.
"Oh, this is going to be fun."
Elion sighed and merged with the group, following Shera through a massive cargo storing zone packed with containers and loaders moving in an orderly fashion.
The docks gave way to a breathtaking view. They stood on a platform overlooking a massive crevice more than a kilometer wide at its narrowest point. Far below, the city of Goreth lay nestled in the stone.
Unlike Mirth, which lived in endless night, Goreth had a sun—an artificial glowing orb embedded in the cavern ceiling.
This was Goreth's sun, created by the most brilliant minds of the past. They studied Nexus which had been built a couple hundred years ago at the time, drawing inspiration from its design to create the sphere of light.
They couldn't replicate Nexus's properties, which was built at a site that channeled the real sun's energy to hold back Entropy.
Goreth's sun only emitted light, but that in and of itself was a considerable feat. They created something to light up a massive city without even using the power of the sun.
That's why Goreth was also known as The Bright City.
The sun wasn't even the most eye-catching part. In the center of the crevice, right under the radiant orb, stood a magnificent castle built of smooth black stones, its towering spires rose high into the air. Red flags, bearing a sword crossed with a hammer, flapped in the breeze.
The sword represented Uru—the family that inherited the affinity to the God of War and Conquest. They had once ruled Urun before abandoning it and allying with the Steel family.
The hammer symbolized Steel—the bearers of the god of Craft and Creation's affinity. They were the ones who discovered the castle, said to have once been the god's dwelling, and repurposed it for their own.
The newly Unlocked gawked. Seeing Goreth in person was a vastly different experience than in pictures. Even Elion struggled to maintain his composure.
Down on the ground level, there was a long, train-like contraption, with wheels, but there was no track. Shera called it a bus.
Of course they built something that pointless. Goreth loves its toys.
It wasn't entirely useless—the city was massive—but carving out space for such vehicles was still a waste in his eyes.
As they passed through the city, the polished buildings and well-maintained streets gradually gave way to neglected ones. Factories were present, bellowing massive streams of toxic-looking smoke into the air. It would eventually find its way through the crack in the ceiling of the cave, but in the meantime, it was enough to scorch the lungs of the area's inhabitants.
People here looked tougher, more desperate—many bore burns and scars from chemical exposure.
The bus continued through the poorer sections of the city, eventually arriving at a fence. Beyond stood a heavily fortified building made of layered alloy. The ceiling was lower here—just a hundred meters up—and the light from Goreth's sun stretched long and orange, giving everything the hue of dusk.
On the gate, in blocky metal letters, it read: Sunset 33—or simply S33.
Here, the sun might still shine, but the name said it all. Sunset.