Arrival

After some time sitting in silence, the clatter of hooves and the rhythmic march of boots slowed.

Their journey had stretched for two hours—two hours that Cypher had slept soundly through. He had no choice. Ever since the Man in the Wall appeared, an unnatural fatigue had settled over him, gnawing at his body like a dull ache centered near his heart.

Clementine had long since finished reviewing the documents and had moved on to reading the Acrisanctum, the holy text of the Church. It was a book personally written by Emperor Endo during his reign, detailing his visions, laws, and most notably, his hatred toward Releigh—a resentment that had only grown stronger over time.

If their was one singular thing that anyone who had read the Acrisanctum could understand without fail - it was how much Endo would grow to hate, despise and loath Releigh after his betrayal.

It was understandable. Releigh, on his own, had wiped out three quarters of all life in what Cypher now knew as the Purgitorio dimension.

A soft rustle of fabric signaled that Clementine had closed the book. Without hesitation, she leaned over and pushed Cypher's shoulder.

His eyelids fluttered open. A faint dizziness clung to his senses as he adjusted to wakefulness.

"Is something wrong, Clementine?" His voice was hoarse from sleep, but his attention was already snapping toward Rain's vision in the clouds. His mind cleared almost immediately. "Ah... I see. We're here."

"Let's not stay cramped in this carriage. You haven't seen High Thorn up close, have you?" She stretched her arms before pulling the carriage's entrance cover aside and stepping out.

Cypher followed, his boots meeting the polished stone beneath him. A warm glow bathed the area—moonlight, golden and heavy, as though imbued with a lingering summer heat.

They stood just outside the High City's defensive walls.

Cypher's gaze trailed upward, his brows slightly furrowing. Walls? Isn't this a little much…

It wasn't just their presence that struck him, but their sheer scale. Towering at nearly six hundred meters, they loomed over the land like an impassable boundary. Heavy banners stretched from the ramparts, cascading downward, each one embroidered with the Heavenly Eye of Endo, the Empire's national emblem.

Behind him, the grasslands stretched into the distance, the faint silhouette of the Deadlands' mountain ranges barely visible through the night haze.

Shouting echoed from atop the walls as the lower-class troops and most of the robed Dreamweavers of the Church made their way to the stone platform elevators leading back down to the underhive. Some were heading home, others returning to their sacred duties within the church.

Meanwhile, Cypher, Clementine, Orion, and General Ivon walked toward the massive steel gate that led into the city.

All four had been invited to the palace party later that evening—either by family or the Cardinal himself.

While they waited for the gate mechanisms to unlock, Orion casually wrapped an arm around the General's neck, pulling him close in a playful chokehold.

"So, Ivon, how's the merchant industry doing? I heard there was some chaos in Boreal. Then again, that city never fails to cause a ruckus."

A visible vein bulged on the man's forehead as he tried—and failed—to pry Orion's arm away. With a resigned sigh, he relented.

"My family sent word. Their business ran into some… complications. The lower-city rats tried to revolt." Ivon's voice was indifferent, as though this was little more than a passing nuisance. "They were dealt with."

"Ah, another failed rebellion?"

Ivon gave a slow nod. "Prices have risen. Transport was disrupted."

"Transport?" Orion echoed, his interest piqued.

"The fools attempted to sabotage a Dragon Array. What's worse… they actually succeeded." Ivon's expression darkened slightly. "After they killed the guards."

Silence briefly hung between them before Clementine spoke up. "How? The stationed guards should have been Caliber Two at minimum."

Ivon exhaled through his nose. "I sense foul play, Milady."

"Indeed…"

As if on cue, the heavy groan of shifting mechanisms echoed from the gate. The steel obstruction slowly rose, granting them entrance. Soldiers lined the top of the walls, their fists striking their armored chests in salute as the group passed beneath.

The air changed immediately.

Cypher could feel it as soon as he stepped into High Thorn. The city's atmosphere was… untouched and perfectly clean.

The grime, the smog, the lingering stench of unwashed bodies that clung to the lower hive—none of it was present here. Instead, the roads were pristine, paved with polished stone tiles that reflected the golden street lamps lining the pathways.

The first district they entered belonged to the middle class, and it was clear from the way people carried themselves. Men walked with refined confidence, their silk-tailored suits a stark contrast to the armor-clad knights patrolling the streets. Women accompanied them, their long dresses trailing the ground lightly, jewelry glinting beneath the lanterns.

Everything about High Thorn radiated wealth and order. Everything.

Cut off from those less fortunate, it appeared as a utopia on the surface at the cost of severe class discrimination.

But those who lived up high rarely care about those Beneath them.

Merchant shops stood tall along the streets, housed within brick buildings with cathedral-like spires. Their doors were left wide open, eager to lure in patrons. Flags of the Empire draped from their rooftops, a silent but ever-present reminder of authority that oppressed the street leading downwards.

A sharp voice cut through the evening air.

"THIS JUST IN! GET YOUR NEWS HERE! THE EMPIRE CLAIMS ANOTHER PERFECT VICTORY—NO CASUALTIES!"

A gaunt old man stood by a stall, waving a freshly printed newspaper. Piles of them sat neatly stacked behind him.

"Oh dear, another victory?" A woman passing by gave a light laugh, skimming through the article. "And look at this! An Archdemon fled?"

She fished a silver coin from her purse, flipping it to the news vendor before hurrying off with her husband.

Cypher exhaled through his nose, a trace of amusement hidden in his expression.

Propaganda exists in every world, I suppose.

The group eventually arrived at a bustling crossroads.

This was the separation point between the noble estates and the rest of the city. Beyond it, Cypher could already make out the golden towers of the Imperial Palace in the distance. The scent of flowers grew stronger with each step, carried by the cool night air.

The city was gradually beginning to feel… surreal. Almost dreamlike.

But before he could fully absorb the sights, something suddenly yanked him out of the moment.

There was a realization.

He stank.

His eyes flicked downward. His robe—tattered, bloodstained, and reeking of sweat—was an utter disgrace compared to the noble surroundings. No wonder people had been stealing cautious glances at him. He looked like a stray dog that had wandered into a royal garden.

"…Cough." Clearing his throat, Cypher took a step back from the group. "Clementine, General, Orion…" His voice was even, but there was an undeniable urgency beneath it. "I can't attend the palace event like this. I need to get cleaned up."

The three glanced down at their own clothes—each stained with dried blood, grime, and possibly bits of brain matter.

"But can't your family send you something?" Orion asked, tilting his head.

Smack!

A firm strike landed on the back of his skull.

Rubbing her knuckles, Clementine pointed down the street. "There's a tailor that way. Use the coins you've earned and meet us at the palace once you're done."

"…Cough. Right. I'll try not to take too long." Without another word, Cypher turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd.

Orion, still rubbing the back of his head, grumbled. "What was that for?"

Clementine sighed. "Idiot. Cypher doesn't have a family. Who's supposed to send him clothes from the grave?"