The transition from the Gilded Dungeon into the heart of the Astral Realm was not a movement of speed, but of value. As the Kashima Maru crossed the threshold, the world of solid bone and grey ash was replaced by a horizon so bright it threatened to burn the retinas of the human crew. The sky was a dome of polished, beaten gold, and the sea beneath them had transformed into a vast, undulating expanse of shimmering, conceptual coins.
Every movement of the ship's hull against this water produced a sound not of splashing, but of a billion metal discs clinking together, a rhythmic, hypnotic symphony of wealth that seemed to hum directly into the brains of the two thousand survivors.
Ren Hanshin stood at the edge of the prow, his boots leaving faint, amber-red scorched marks on the steel. The Severance of Destiny was gripped in his right hand, the crimson blade thumping with a low, dangerous frequency.
[Synchronization: 62.5%]
[Condition: Midas-Infection (Stage 1)]
