Chapter 7: The Deceptive Glimmer of Luxflutuante

The thin air grew cold and sparkling as they ascended, leaving behind the last rugged shadows of the Whispering Fangs Pass. There it was, suspended against the infinite sky like a cluster of celestial jewels: Luxflutuante.

Floating islands, connected by arching bridges of solid light and pulsating energy, defied gravity. Slender spires of crystal and silver-white metal pierced the clouds, reflecting the sun in a thousand dazzling prisms. Hanging gardens overflowed with exotic, luminescent flora, impossible waterfalls tumbled from one island to another, evaporating into shimmering mist before reaching the nothingness below. The order was palpable, a visual symphony of ethereal beauty and contained arcane power. The sound was a distant murmur – channeled wind, energy chants, perhaps the tinkling of crystals.

Akane, walking slightly ahead, stopped. Her posture, previously tense from the journey, became rigid for a different reason. Her shoulders were too straight, her chin lifted in a mask of dignity that barely concealed shallow breathing.

Her eyes swept the floating city not with the relief of return, but with the apprehension of someone returning to a gilded cage, the weight of duty and family expectations falling upon her like one of the city's silent waterfalls. The recent escape, the raw freedom of the road, seemed like a distant dream before the imposing reality of her home.

Daniel, beside her, felt the change. His eyes, accustomed to the forge and the shadows of forgotten dungeons, registered the undeniable beauty, but his mind was alert. There was a familiarity here, in the lines of the architecture, in the hum of ambient magic – memories of his time as a respected blacksmith, before… before everything. But this familiarity was tinged with caution, an unsettling feeling beneath the glittering surface. His gaze shifted from the city to Akane, noticing the tense line of her jaw, the way her fingers discreetly clenched the fabric of her tunic.

Behind them, Aela snorted softly, a sound almost lost in the wind. Her half-elven eyes, practical and sharp, didn't linger on the beauty. They scanned the bridges, the towers, potential surveillance points. To her, Luxflutuante wasn't a home or a refuge, but a nest of elven privilege and potential complications. She crossed her arms, the leather of her armor creaking softly, an island of earthy pragmatism amidst the floating magic.

Eryndora, on the other hand, seemed genuinely amazed, though a shadow of intimidation lingered in her gentle eyes. She clutched the strap of her herb pouch as if seeking something familiar to anchor herself. Her mouth was slightly open, absorbing the grandeur, but she stayed close to Daniel, as if the luminous vastness might swallow her. Admiration was visible, but also the feeling of being small, a forest healer amidst the pinnacle of elven civilization.

"Well," Akane's voice sounded, a little louder than necessary, breaking the contemplative and tense silence. "We've arrived. Let's go to the gates." She didn't wait for replies, just began walking towards the nearest bridge of light leading to the city's main entrance, her forged resolve masking the inner turmoil.

Akane led the way across the shimmering bridge, her steps firm on the solid light. At the main entrance of the central island, two elven guards in white and silver armor that seemed woven from moonlight and metal stood like living statues. Their features were beautiful and impassive, spears of energy crackling softly in their hands.

As they approached, the guards' eyes focused on Akane. There was an instant of recognition, followed by a formal, synchronized nod.

"Princess Akane," one of them said, his voice clear and inflectionless. "Your return is... noted." The pause was almost imperceptible, but laden with the unsaid. It wasn't a warm welcome, but an official acknowledgment.

The guard's gaze then slid over Akane's companions. On Daniel, the look lingered an instant longer – recognizing perhaps the renowned Blacksmith, but his travel armor and human appearance clearly placed him outside the immediate circle of elven trust. The glance over Eryndora was brief, almost dismissive – a forest elf healer, harmless, but clearly not belonging to Luxflutuante's elite.

When the guard's eyes landed on Aela, however, there was a subtle shift. A slight tightening of the jaw, an almost invisible grip on the spear. Her half-elven heritage and pragmatic mercenary gear instantly marked her as an outsider, perhaps even undesirable. The prejudice wasn't in words, but in the sudden tension in the guard's posture, the cold glint in his eyes.

Aela noticed, of course. A cynical smile flickered across her lips for a fleeting moment. She tilted her head slightly towards Daniel, muttering low enough only for him to hear, while Akane formally addressed the guard about needing passage: "Ah, the privileges of royalty and warm elven hospitality. Feeling at home, human?" Her voice was pure sarcasm, an outlet for the silent hostility she felt.

Daniel merely shot Aela a quick glance, a silent warning not to cause trouble there. He understood the venom in her voice; he'd felt it before, in other ways.

"We have urgent business," Akane told the guards, her voice regaining its authority. "I need to deliver an important artifact to the Council immediately." She didn't mention the Crown of Unity there, at the open gates. "My companions are with me. I will arrange their temporary identification as soon as possible."

The guards exchanged a look. The mention of "urgent business" and Akane's authority were enough. The one who had spoken opened the way with a reluctant gesture. "As you wish, Princess."

The group passed through the gates, entering the pulsating heart of Luxflutuante.

As soon as they passed the guards, the ordered cacophony of Luxflutuante enveloped them. Akane turned to the group, her expression serious. "I need to deliver the Crown of Unity to the Temple of Astral Echoes immediately. It's an unavoidable protocol." Her eyes met Daniel's. "Wait for me at the temple entrance. It will be faster this way."

Without waiting for objections, she adjusted the backpack where the artifact was hidden and began to move with purpose across the walkways of light and crystal. The group followed, a few steps behind, observing the city unfold.

Luxflutuante was a testament to elven arrogance and mastery, but also a reluctant melting pot of Faytheria, one of the world's largest and most prosperous cities. Elves in flowing, shimmering robes glided along the main walkways, their shops displaying riches that spoke of immense economic power. Occasionally, Daniel glimpsed equally pale and aristocratic figures amidst the high-lineage elves: Vampires, dressed in a dark elegance that rivaled that of the elves themselves. A look exchanged between an elven noble and a nearby vampire was enough to sense the cold tension, the mirrored arrogance, and the mutual contempt simmering beneath the polished surface of high society – two pinnacles of power tolerating, but clearly not enduring, each other. This tense coexistence at the top was sustained, in part, by Luxflutuante's official policy of welcoming diverse races – and by the vast labor force and economic flow it generated.

But away from the glittering avenues, in the secondary arteries, labor markets, and alleys winding through the lower islands, the facade of harmony faded, revealing the latent inequality and the true tapestry of life in the metropolis. Clustered there were figures contrasting sharply with the elite. Humans in worn clothes and lost gazes – Players, trying to survive in a world not their own. Half-elves in work attire, hurrying along. Dwarves near arcane engineering structures or loading docks. Small Gnomes adjusting complex mechanisms. Wolf-like Beastmen, and even some individuals whose tense shoulders and savage glint suggested they were Werewolves contained by the city's forced civility, acted as guards or mercenaries, always under the watchful eye of patrols. Further down the social hierarchy, Daniel saw some muscular Orcs, clearly assigned to heavy manual labor, their faces marked by resignation or ill-disguised hostility towards the looks of revulsion they received. From a particularly dark alley echoed sharp cries and rough betting – Daniel had the uneasy feeling an illegal Goblin fighting pit was underway, a cruel amusement for the desperate or depraved of the lower city. Minor Elementals bound to specific tasks were common, but it was said that, very rarely, a Dragon diplomat might be seen crossing the skies towards the Palace, or a Mermaid emissary from the depths might emerge in specially enchanted fountains – glimpses of an even larger, stranger world, a reminder that even Luxflutuante wasn't the absolute center of everything. Other less sociable creatures, those from darker forests or remote mountains, likely lurked in the shadows of the lower, neglected islands, avoiding the elven light and order.

The wealth was there, undeniable. The official receptiveness too, allowing all these creatures – from aristocratic vampires to working orcs and lost players – to live and contribute (or be exploited) for the metropolis's prosperity. But elven prejudice, inter-species distrust, and the harsh economic reality were the invisible fabric defining spaces, glances, opportunities. Coexistence was a complex necessity, not an achieved ideal, and equality was a shimmering mirage, as distant as the solid ground below the floating city for many of its inhabitants.

Aela observed it all with a familiar sneer on her lips. Eryndora seemed uncomfortable with the palpable social tension, shrinking slightly. Daniel felt the old sting of pity and helpless anger seeing the Players, remembering his own clouded past and the cruelty of Fay that trapped them there.

They reached the base of an imposing tower, the Temple of Astral Echoes. "Wait here," Akane instructed, and disappeared through the tall, silent doors.

The wait was short, but tense. Aela leaned against the wall, distractedly cleaning a dagger. Eryndora studied the strange plants in a nearby floating pot. Daniel remained alert, watching the passersby, the feeling of being in hostile territory disguised as paradise persisting.

Akane reappeared minutes later, her face pale, but her posture still controlled. There was a new kind of weight on her shoulders. "Done," she said simply. "Let's go. My old forge isn't far. It's the safest, most neutral place to set up base for now."

The journey to the forge was different. Here, in the more artisanal streets, Daniel was recognized. An old elf lens-maker nodded respectfully. A young elf jeweler smiled shyly. These were looks of professional recognition, a stark contrast to the suspicion or contempt directed at adventurers and Players. It seemed to ease the tension in the air somewhat, at least for Daniel.

Finally, they reached a sturdy construction, less ornamented than its neighbors, made of dark stone and worked metal, with a chimney releasing a thin column of magical smoke. The sign simply read: "Silver Phoenix Forge." Daniel's home.

Daniel pushed open the heavy metal and stone door, revealing the heart of the Silver Phoenix. The air inside was warm, thick with the familiar smell of cooled metal, coal, and the residual energy of forge magic. It wasn't a place of elven luxury, but of hard work and mastery. Anvils marked by use, hammers of various weights and shapes organized on racks, a central furnace burning with a steady blue flame fueled by fire crystals. Shelves held bars of raw metal, some exotic, others common, and semi-finished pieces – blades awaiting an edge, polished helms, intricate components of unknown artifacts. It was functional, efficient, and undeniably Daniel's domain. A home, despite everything.

Aela entered with a grunt of approval, her practical eyes scanning the equipment. "At least things seem to actually work here," she muttered, already heading to a bench to inspect her own weapons under the forge light. Eryndora entered more hesitantly, her eyes absorbing the environment with quiet curiosity, finding a calmer corner to set down her herb pouch.

Daniel closed the door, the heavy sound echoing briefly, muffling the city noises outside. For a moment, the place felt like a sanctuary. But the image of the Players they'd seen in the streets still lingered in his mind. He remembered a quick glimpse, almost lost in the crowd near one of the secondary Guild entrances they passed on the way: a group of ragged adventurers carrying one of their own. A young human, face contorted in pain, his torn pant leg below the knee ending in a bloody, poorly bandaged stump. The image was brutal, a reminder of the meat grinder Fay turned lives into in this world.

They fight and bleed for scraps, Daniel thought, the cold metal of a hammer under his hand. Fay gives them fragments of power, skills unlocked like in some perverse game, each Guild mission, each monster slain, a way to 'level up' their stats. But it's artificial growth, limited by her system. He compared it to the potential of natives, like Akane or even Eryndora – their magic was part of them, an organic growth, slower perhaps, but with far greater raw potential, capable of shaping reality itself if developed. The Players were disposable tools, gaining strength only to be broken more efficiently. Pity mixed with a cold, helpless anger directed at the AI who saw them as toys.

His gaze found Akane. She hadn't moved much since entering. She stood near one of the barred windows, looking out without really seeing the street. The facade of princess and leader had cracked slightly, revealing the elf beneath – overwhelmed, anxious, perhaps scared of what awaited her now that she was back within reach of the Palace and the Arcane Academy. Tension radiated from her in almost palpable waves.

He approached slowly, the sound of his footsteps muffled on the stone floor. Stopped beside her, not touching her yet. "Heavy, isn't it?" he said, his voice low. "Coming back."

Akane startled slightly, turning her face to him. There were shadows under her eyes that the forge light couldn't erase. "It's... more complicated than I remembered," she admitted, her voice almost a whisper. "The expectations. The stares. The feeling that my every step will be judged. The Crown is delivered, but that's just the beginning." She looked down at her own hands. "I have to go back to the Academy tomorrow. Face all that."

Daniel nodded, understanding more than she perhaps realized about facades and burdens. "You don't have to face it alone, Akane." He hesitated for an instant, then, guided by an impulse that ignored the complications, reached out and lightly touched her arm.

The contact was brief, just a touch of leather glove against the fine fabric of her tunic, but it seemed to spark in the tense air between them. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the city outside, the others in the room, the dangerous mission – everything seemed to recede. There was a depth in her gaze, a vulnerability few saw, and Daniel felt the familiar pull, the undeniable preference that made him want to protect her, to stand beside her.

"Hey, Daniel!" Aela's rough voice cut through the moment like a knife. She stood near the anvil, gesturing with one of her daggers. "This favorite anvil of yours looks like it's seen better days. Want to give this a look before I need a decent edge?" Her tone was practical, but there was a knowing, perhaps slightly challenging glint in her eyes as she looked from Daniel to Akane and back.

Eryndora, in the corner, had looked up in time to see the touch and the intensity of the exchanged glance. She quickly averted her eyes back to her herb pouch, her fingers tightening on a small wooden amulet she wore around her neck, a soft, perhaps slightly sad expression passing over her face before being replaced by her usual serenity.

Daniel pulled his hand away from Akane's arm, the connection broken. He gave Aela a short nod. "I'll take a look." But as he turned, something caught his peripheral vision. On the polished surface of an elven shield he was repairing, hanging on the wall, the dancing forge light seemed to falter for a split second, distorting into a pattern of almost subliminal neon-green lines before returning to normal. A glitch. A shiver ran down his spine.

Fay.

She was always watching. Even here, in the refuge of his own forge, the Goddess's presence was a constant shadow, a reminder that there was no place truly safe. The tension in the room seemed to increase tenfold, the weight of their secrets, the mission, the conflicting feelings, and the omnipresent threat pressing down on him.

The deceptive glimmer of Luxflutuante had just revealed another of its shadows.