The arrival in the city was peaceful.
After going through the verification process, Eylan decided to explore the surroundings.
His disaster-prediction ability didn't react when he made that choice—so, at least for now, there was no immediate danger.
He visited a few landmarks, but it didn't take long for his mind to start feeling heavy.
As he walked through the streets, a sharp dizziness struck him like an invisible hammer.
The Tidal Pulse, always active, picked up on every person, every movement, every presence.
Here, at the heart of humanity's greatest stronghold, there was too much information.
Too much noise.
Too many lives.
The overloaded sensor made him dizzy.
Stopping to catch his breath, he whispered:
"Haa… what a headache…"
The sensation lasted a few minutes—until, with effort, he found a way to "narrow the focus."
It was like adjusting his vision: choosing a single point, while everything else blurred out.
If something threatening appeared in the "periphery," he could just shift focus.
Simple in theory.
Painful in practice.
Once the discomfort passed, Eylan resumed walking, taking in the city's restless scenery.
'I always knew NQSC had colossal defenses… but seeing it in person is different.'
The walls were monstrous—towers with cannons, sensors, layers of energy barriers, internal fire lines and contingency systems.
Nothing there seemed built to inspire safety.
The feeling was something else entirely:
Everything was made to kill.
Or be destroyed in the process.
"Truly worthy of being humanity's greatest fortress…"
The sky above was always gray—not from clouds, but from dust, pollution, and the luminous haze produced by the barriers themselves.
Sunlight filtered through dirty, sickly.
In the inner sectors, though, the light felt purer.
More alive.
As he headed toward the center, Eylan began to notice the contrast.
And it was worse than he'd imagined.
Even having read the book, nothing prepared him to see it in person.
The people.
The difference was just as stark as described—maybe even more so.
In the protected sectors, the elite walked as if they belonged to another world:
Tall, well-fed, clean skin, tailored clothes.
They moved with effortless confidence, like people who never needed to look over their shoulders.
They didn't see the city.
They passed through it.
Out in the outskirts…
Oppression came first.
It was as if the air itself told the truth: everything lived on the edge of the abyss.
"My God…" he murmured, then frowned.
He froze.
'My… God? Singular? Why did I say that? No one talks like that here. It's always the Six.'
A chill ran down his spine.
That hadn't come from his mind—but from somewhere deeper, buried in his soul.
Maybe it was an old belief.
Maybe just an involuntary reflex.
Either way, it unsettled him.
Ignoring the feeling, he muttered quietly,
"This place looks worse than Latin America…" trying to shake off the strangeness.
And that, at least, made sense.
Fragmented memories from the body echoed within him—memories of a place where food still existed, where children still had a chance.
Where he hadn't been as fragile as the little ones wandering those alleys.
This was the true face of humanity.
Thin, hunched bodies. Dull skin.
Patched clothes, hollow eyes—children who looked like miniature adults.
People packed into narrow alleys, into buildings that seemed ready to collapse under their own weight.
Every distant noise made someone flinch.
And yet, in the end, they were all just background characters.
People who existed only to fill the scenery.
'Will I find him around here? At this point, I already know where I am in the story…'
He'd figured that out after leaving his first Nightmare.
He'd woken up in a police station.
He still had a decent memory, so he followed protocol.
He'd even gotten a free communicator.
And he'd researched.
Nothing about Awakened from the Forgotten Coast.
Nothing about Nephis, the Changing Star.
The three Clans still ruled.
Antarctica still existed.
He'd arrived two years before the start of the story.
Lucky? Maybe.
He had more time to prepare—but the future was still coming.
And because of that, maybe he'd find Sunless somewhere in the city.
But twenty percent of the population lived here… the odds were slim.
His priority was reaching the Awakened Academy.
He quickened his pace.
Then he heard a scream.
He stopped.
Looked around—it came from an alley.
Three big boys were surrounding a much smaller kid.
Even from a distance, Eylan could catch fragments of their voices:
"Hand over… money…"
"Don't… we'll beat you…"
Extortion.
Common.
He decided to ignore it.
Until one of them pulled out a knife.
And lunged.
Eylan's body reacted before his mind—but the moment he took his first step, something snapped inside him.
A roar shook the air.
A dry, monstrous thunderclap that nearly deafened him.
The Whisper of Misfortune exploded inside his Sea of Souls—the turbulent ocean boiling as if something massive were about to devour it.
'Why did it react so strongly?!
Saving that kid… is dangerous enough to kill me?'
The realization hit in a flash—a frozen instant.
—
"But they're just normal people…" he murmured, stunned.
The attacker struck at the boy.
The blade only grazed him thanks to the child's desperate reflex.
It wouldn't happen again.
Eylan felt his heart race.
The waves of the Whisper crashing violently, warning him.
Alerting him.
A choice.
Now.
Save the kid—and face something his own Aspect classified as catastrophic.
Or let the violence run its course.
He didn't want to give up his humanity.
Not here.
Not this early.
But the risk…
Was enormous.
"Ah, shit…" he muttered, teeth clenched.
What do I do?