CHAPTER 40: MAN IN THE PLAZA

From his shoulder, the tiny sphere ascended, placing itself above the desecrated block like a discoball. All at once, it began spinning in place, emitting lights that fluctuated across the entire spectrum–from blue, purple, red, to green, all of it.

Accompanying the mass of lights that quickly turned the portion of the sector into a carnival, music boomed from Izo, starting with grating heavy metal to ear-piercing pop.

"BANG, BANG! GO, GO! LIGHT UP THE SKY TONIGHT! BANG, BANG! GO, GO!" The high-pitched voice of the feminine singer played from Izo.

All Seven could do was give props in his head to just how effective the sensory overload was, much to the fact that he found it difficult to concentrate himself. He saw it; the attempts at throwing objects towards him seemed completely off.

Vehicles were raised off the ground, though he watched as a gray truck was awkwardly thrown to the left, slamming into the side of a building while another was tossed into the air aimlessly.

’It’s completely overwhelmed, isn’t it? This might work,’ he thought.

There was a heaping amount of trust placed in the robot as he sprinted forward. A storm of debris unleashed in all directions, leaving cars thrown aimlessly.

The wind hummed against his ears as a van came flying right for him, bringing him sliding across the road as it passed overhead.

Jumping to his feet, he crossed the distance within a few strides before leaping up, bringing himself taller than the alien.

With his sword above his head, he brought it down. There was no resistance from its rope-like flesh, cutting right through its head and down its body like splitting a log.

As the blade passed through the middle of the threaded one, he felt it cut into a fleshy core. He let his feet land on the powderized asphalt, letting his weapon part the entity before him.

[Instilling appropriate experience into the system.]

[+2,000] [2000/10500]

As he lifted his head with an exhale, he found no blood coming from the bisected lifeform as its threaded body seemed to simply unravel. The lightshow from the small robot stopped, though he paid no mind to that, instead staring at what was left of the dissipating figure.

A lightless orb sat where the stomach of the entity once existed, fixated in the air. There was no turning his gaze away, as if his eyes were glued to that pitch-black sphere; an unending abyss.

["----"]

Sounds; words, maybe–he couldn’t decipher the scratching noise that filled his ears as he found himself fixated on the peculiar phenomena.

’What is this...? It’s like it’s piercing right into my mind–the deepest part, the most primal,’ he thought.

["Boy of mankind. Look within, look outside, past the veil of the cosmic wind. With your own eyes, see the truth of it all...of our universe–"]

The meaning of the noise manifested itself as tangible words, delivered right to his mind. A revelation that came with a headache, feeling as though his head was being split by an axe as he collapsed to his knees, clutching his head.

["--...You who wields the strength to bring change, you who should be most acute of the world around you."]

"Nnggh...Aah–!" He yelled, curling into a fetal position on the desecrated road.

["--Nothing will be hidden, not from your eyes."]

As his eyes shot open, the ringing agony was gone from his head, though he found himself lightly dazed as he blinked. Sitting up, he found himself not in the decrepit intersection, but displaced from it, instead within the center of a mall plaza.

The lights of the countless storefronts still shined, from gaming hubs to makeup stores, it was as if there was no apocalypse. Yet, it was quiet–not a soul lingered.

"Where the hell am I...?" He mumbled, rubbing his head as his fingers glided through his messy hair.

As he picked himself up, he found across the pale tiles, sat by one of the pots bearing an indoor tree, was the tiny robot, though it seemed asleep.

"Izo? Hey, Izo–wake up," he said, scooping it into his palm.

There was a slight delay before the pixelated face yawned on the orb, "Mornin’, Seven."

"What’s going on? How did we end up here? Wherever this even is," he asked, placing the robot back on his shoulder.

Izo paused before answering hesitantly, "Odd...I can’t connect to the main network. I’ve got no way to access the databases, or communicate...It’s like this area is a complete deadzone."

"You had to have saved some kind of map of Sector Fifty before we came here, right? It looks like we’re in a mall–got anything on that?" Seven asked, looking around.

There was something off about the plaza, perhaps more than one thing; the ceiling where a glass roof was supposed to sit was instead infested with roots, sprouting trees of silver-and-gold leaves that hung upside down.

’What’s up with this place?’ He thought.

"I don’t have data of any maps saved, but I can begin building a map by scanning the layout of the surrounding area–" Izo said.

The voice of the robot suddenly cut off, bringing him to turn around to check on it, only finding the sphere held in the grasp of human fingers. While he immediately reached for the sword magnetized to the back of his suit, he only realized then that it wasn’t an alien, but a man.

"Woah there," the masculine voice gently greeted him, holding out his other hand as if showing he meant no malice. "I’m not an enemy–there are no enemies here, friend."

Casually, the robot was tossed back like a softball to the young man. He caught it, though the little orb didn’t seem keen on speaking for the moment.

The stranger wore a pale cloak sitting over a neat, white suit, possessing caramel skin and olive eyes that remained sharp, yet welcoming. Judging by the uncut beard and the dark-brown hair mixed with grays, the man seemed to be teetering on his forties.

"Who are you? If you’re a survivor, you need to get back to the base–I’ll escort you there, I just..." Seven said, trying to wrap his head around the situation.

"I’m not in any need of help. You seem to need some assistance though, friend. I’m sure you have questions about where you are, or how you ended up here," the mysterious man said, pacing the plaza with a gentle demeanor. "Let’s start with names. I’m Mitra, of the Voyagers."

"Voyagers?" Seven raised an eyebrow.

There was a soft smile perched on the man’s lips as he sat down by one of the peculiar trees that sprouted between the tiles, setting his gaze on the young man, "You haven’t heard of us?"

"No, can’t say I have."

"We’re seekers," Mitra claimed, rubbing a golden leaf between two fingers. "What we seek is what lies beyond our world. In the cosmos–that’s where the next step of humanity waits."

"I think right now, humanity has bigger problems than that," Seven responded, lightly shaking the orb in his hand to try and wake up the robot.

"The Fulminare?" Mitra said. "No, I don’t believe they’re a "problem."

"How can you even say that?" Seven asked, looking straight at the odd man. "Look around you–the whole world has been turned to crap because of them."

"It’s because we’ve refused them. If mankind accepted the Fulminare, the war would end, we’d be welcome into their ranks, into the cosmos–it would usher in the next evolution of humanity," Mitra advocated.

Seven shook his head, "We’d be slaves. Do you not see the ranks they send down to our world? Species from other worlds, forced to fight for the Fulminare–that would be us, no, worse."

"Perhaps at first, it would be difficult. However, the road humanity is heading down now will result in extinction, all but assuredly. I’m not claiming mankind would need to be subservient to the Fulminare, but only bide our time–" Mitra explained his view.

"I’m not hearing this anymore. If you’re not looking for a way out of this sector, then good luck out here," Seven dismissed.

As he turned away from the peculiar person, he attached the sphere to his shoulder, setting his sights ahead—

He stopped; a presence was there, down the plaza by the running fountain. A shadow of a man, like a silhouette cast by a light, yet completely visible.

"You see them, don’t you?" The man asked from behind.

"What?—"

As he tried to dismiss the question, he watched the lonely shadow approach him. It held its head low like a depressed child, slumped its shoulders.

He grabbed a hold of his sheathed weapon, ready to draw it as it walked towards him before—it simply passed through him. Turning around, he found only a small haze left of the shadow boy, and the odd man looking at him.

"What was that...?" Seven asked, shaking his head and caressing it.

The only explanation he could uncover was it being the result of head trauma from his earlier encounter, though it seemed unlikely.

Mitra held a knowing smile, walking past him, "Nothing more than a vagrant of time. A memory of the cosmos given form, if only for a moment."

"That’s...no, that doesn’t make sense," he rejected.

Though he held no firmness to the answer, the way the well-spoken man delivered it made him question all the more just who he was looking at.

’There’s something off about him,’ his mind told him, whether it was his intuition or simply the way the air felt colder in his presence.