Vibrant

Stepping back into the streets of the Luminara District was like stepping into a dream that had been scribbled over by a mad artist. The sky shimmered in unnatural hues, shifting from violet to liquid gold as neon tendrils crawled across the horizon like electric vines. Hovering advertisements pulsed in and out of existence, their cryptic messages morphing mid-sentence—Buy Now? became Consume Forever, then just Run. Vendors sold food that seemed to change colors the longer you stared at it, and the scents in the air—sizzling spice, molten sugar, something faintly metallic—blended into something both mouthwatering and vaguely unsettling. The ground rippled like ink, solid yet fluid underfoot, and in the corner of his vision, shapes twisted in ways they shouldn't, as if reality itself was having trouble deciding what form it wanted to take. It was chaos, but a kind that had its own rhythm, its own strange harmony.

Adjusting Peach on his shoulder, Sol glanced around, his mind already set on his next destination. The Archive. If the stories were true, it held knowledge beyond comprehension—secrets lost to time, whispers of forgotten civilizations, and perhaps even answers about affinities. The mere thought of it sent a thrill through him.

Before he started moving, he waved his hand in a hypnotic motion around his body, the air bending in strange, fluid distortions as his Illusion Affinity activated. His hair shifted from black to silver, and his face took on an eerie, blurry quality—changing and not changing at the same time, forcing anyone looking to do a double take, uncertain of what they had just seen. 

Then, a mischievous thought struck him. He glanced at Peach, who chirped in curiosity before expanding back to his original size. Sol grinned and extended the illusion, wrapping it around his companion as well. Peach's usual vibrant hues faded, his form flickering like a mirage before stabilizing into something completely different—something unrecognizable. Sol smirked to himself, amused by his own handiwork. With a quick, practiced motion, he hopped onto Peach's broad head as the massive bear began moving across the street, its heavy paws making little sound against the shifting, ink-like ground. The illusion had transformed Peach into something unrecognizable, and now, with Sol perched atop him, they blended into the surreal cityscape as just another strange sight in a world full of them.

Now properly disguised, he started moving, weaving through the crowd, his senses tuned for anything unusual. Though he had learned to blend in, he knew better than to think he went unnoticed. Eyes followed him, some curious, others wary. The Sparkling Den had left an impression, and whether that was a good or bad thing remained to be seen.

As he walked, the hum of the district surrounded him—holo-screens flickered with interstellar news, robotic assistants carried out deliveries, and distant music pulsed from a club nearby. Somewhere down the road, a group of cloaked figures whispered amongst themselves, their voices lost in the crowd. Sol took everything in, mentally mapping the route ahead.

The Archive wouldn't be easy to find. Some said it moved, others claimed it only revealed itself to those who were truly seeking something. Sol knew it was a waste of time to actively search for it—it would either find him, or he was out of luck. But for some reason, he wasn't worried. Deep inside, he knew it was only a matter of time before the Archive appeared before him.

Until then, he had other priorities.

He needed space—somewhere private, out of the way. His Plant Affinity wasn't something he could just experiment with in the middle of a crowded district. It needed room to grow, literally. And then there was his Time Affinity. No one could know about it. The potential danger of revealing such an ability was unimaginable. If anyone even suspected… No, he had to master it in absolute secrecy.

As he thought it through, he pulled up the ship's map, scanning for abandoned or lesser-known areas where he could train undisturbed. While scrolling through locations, an idea struck him. "System," he murmured, his voice low. "Can you hide my Time Affinity?"

The system responded almost instantly, its voice calm yet precise. "Yes. Your Time Affinity can be concealed from detection. However, due to its classification as a Mythic Affinity, suppression is not absolute. Strong enough scans, divine entities, or direct manipulation of time-related phenomena may expose its existence. Additionally, repeated use of the affinity in uncontrolled environments increases the risk of detection."

Sol exhaled sharply. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than nothing. He would have to be careful, selective in how and when he used it. But at least now, he had an extra layer of protection.

Satisfied for the moment, he focused back on his search. He needed somewhere abandoned, somewhere people wouldn't think to go. After scanning through several potential locations, he found one that looked promising—a section of the lower district where gravity anomalies made it unstable for casual foot traffic. Most travelers avoided it due to unpredictable shifts in weightlessness, but for Sol, it was perfect. No one would bother him there.

As he locked in the location and prepared to head out, something strange caught his eye. Down an alleyway just ahead, space seemed to ripple, the walls bending inward like liquid glass. It was a distortion unlike anything else in the city, as if reality itself was shifting. Sol narrowed his eyes.

He wasn't sure if it was a trick of the district's bizarre nature—or if the Archive had already started looking for him.