chapter 7: Advanced city

Evangeline and Chronos had parted ways, each returning to their respective districts. As he walked alone through the bustling city streets, Chronos wiped sweat from his brow, his fingers trembling slightly.

"Why do I feel so nervous?" he muttered to himself, staring at his damp palm. "Is it because of what she said about the time anomaly? Of course, I'm not responsible for the anomalies... right?"

His thoughts churned as he descended the stairs leading to the underground subway. The familiar hum of trains echoed through the tunnels, a constant rhythm of the city's lifeblood.

Unlike the relics of the past, these trains weren't ordinary. They glowed like celestial bodies, sleek and seamless, their frames designed from an alloy unknown to old-world metallurgy.

The city, though modern, bore the scars of an era-defining mutation. After an asteroid, later named Grok, crashed into Earth, it had been mistaken for an extraterrestrial organism.

When scientists investigated, the rock began to dissolve, releasing an invisible gas into the atmosphere. Slowly, humanity changed.

Infants were born with anomalies—three eyes, heightened intellect, additional organs, telekinetic abilities. Within a decade, 90% of Earth's population had evolved into something beyond human. The remaining 10%—those still normal were either revered or shunned.

"Welcome to The Light Subway. Next stop: White District," an automated voice announced over the speakers.

Chronos exhaled. "That's my cue."

Descending further, he stepped onto the subway platform and was momentarily awestruck. The transformation was breathtaking.

Cobalt pillars lined the station, their surfaces shimmering like liquid metal. The railways pulsed with an ethereal glow, resembling molten magma flowing through the veins of the city.

"Wow..." he murmured. He could have stood there forever, absorbing the beauty of it all, but the arriving train interrupted his reverie.

He boarded swiftly, securing a handhold as the train's engine purred to life. The vehicle accelerated smoothly, its speed surpassing anything he had experienced in his original timeline. His heart pounded with excitement.

"This is insane," he whispered, eyes glued to the glass window. The outside world blurred into streaks of light, skyscrapers twisting into surreal structures as they zoomed past. Even the cityscape felt unfamiliar. He had grown up in this district, yet it was unrecognizable now.

"We have arrived at the White District," the voice announced. "Next stop: Crimson District."

Chronos stepped onto the platform, stretching as the train vanished in a burst of speed.

He climbed the stairs leading to the surface and was met with a dazzling spectacle—billboards towering over buildings, vibrant holograms advertising the latest technologies, and sports cars weaving through traffic while police interceptors struggled to keep up.

"Why even bother?" he mused, watching an officer's car attempt to match the speed of a souped-up hover vehicle. "They're pushing 180k at least. Dumbasses."

Street vendors lined the sidewalks, their voices rising over the urban chaos.

"Fresh gadgets, top of the line interfaces!" "High-quality synthetic meats, best price!" "Accessories and enhancers for your implants, don't miss out!"

Chronos dipped his hands into his pockets, blending into the crowd as he took in the overwhelming transformation of his home district. He halted when a massive advertisement played above him.

"Vote Li Wei for the next leader of the White District. A better future for all!"

His lips curled in distaste. "Li Wei..."

The name carried weight—bitter memories of his father's most relentless adversary. The man had dedicated his life to tarnishing the Chronos family name, attempting to strip his father of his title as district head. If not for the loyalty of their supporters, he might have succeeded.

"Worthless scumbag," Chronos muttered. "I need to focus on why I'm here."

But the streets were different. The once familiar pathways twisted in ways he didn't recognize. After minutes of wandering, he exhaled sharply, frustration evident.

"Great. Lost in my own district."

Spotting a street vendor flipping synthetic meat over a sizzling grill, he approached.

"Excuse me, sir. Do you know where I can find the Magna House?"

The vendor wiped his hands on his apron and gave him a sharp look. "The famous Magnas?"

Chronos nodded, puzzled by the man's cautious tone.

"That's up in the mountains," the vendor finally said, pointing. "You'll need a cab."

"Appreciate it."

The vendor waved over a driver. "Estilo, take the kid up to the Magnas."

A rugged-looking man leaned out of the cab, adjusting his shades. "Hop in, kid."

The ride up the mountain was smooth yet exhilarating. From the elevated road, Chronos could see the entire White District sprawling beneath them.

"When did the White District get this advanced?" he asked, watching the gleaming towers stretch toward the sky.

"You new here?" Estilo asked, glancing at him through the rearview mirror.

"Something like that."

"It's been twenty years since the change," the driver replied. "After the massacre."

Chronos stiffened. "What massacre?"

Estilo hesitated. "The massacre of the former leader of the White District."

Chronos' heartbeat quickened. "Who was the former leader?"

"The Julius family."

A sigh of relief escaped him. He had never heard of them.

"So the Magnas are in charge now?"

"Yeah, and they're doing a damn good job. Best leadership we've had in years."

Chronos frowned. His memories didn't align with this history. Just how much has changed?

The cab slowed to a stop at the foot of an imposing estate. "This is as far as I can take you, kid. They don't let drivers past the gates."

Chronos flipped a coin to Estilo. "Thanks."

The cab peeled away, disappearing down the winding road. He turned, staring up at the massive mansion looming above.

Darkened windows reflected the dimming sky, and high walls fortified the estate like a citadel.

A smirk tugged at his lips. "Home sweet home."

Adjusting his jacket, he strode toward the entrance, ready to confront whatever awaited him inside.