Fall into a Neon Hell

The fall through the fabric of time and space wasn't calm or peaceful. It was more like being thrown into a cosmic blender, where my senses were torn, stretched, and compressed all at once. Flashes of impossible colors, sounds like the screeching of dying stars and whispers in languages yet unborn, the sensation of burning cold and freezing heat dancing on my skin. I lost all sense of direction, of time, of my own body for moments that felt like an eternity. The last image seared into my mind before temporary oblivion swallowed me was the Devil's single, tear-filled red eye, and the complex gazes of pity from the Four Symbols.

Then, with the same sudden violence it began, it ended.

Returning to reality was like the shock of a steel hammer. I slammed onto a hard, cold surface, the impact driving the air from my lungs and sending waves of pain through every bone in my body. It wasn't stone or dirt. It was something... artificial, rough, covered in a sticky layer of unknown grime.

I forced my eyes open, and blinding light assaulted them mercilessly. It wasn't the light of the sun or moon. It was a false, harsh, multicolored light, emanating from above and all sides, reflecting off wet, gleaming surfaces. I found myself sprawled in a narrow alleyway, its walls made of corrugated metal covered in strange graffiti and rust. Thick pipes snaked along its length like metal serpents, dripping a dark liquid with a sharp chemical smell. Rain was falling – not refreshing rain, but heavy drops that seemed to carry the city's filth, leaving oily patches where they landed.

I pushed myself up with difficulty, ignoring the dizziness and the throbbing pain in my head. The air was thick, saturated with smells I had never known: a nauseating mix of ozone, burnt fuel, cheap synthetic food, and wet metal. And above it all, a deafening noise – a deep, low hum as if the city itself was breathing, the sharp whine of unseen vehicles speeding past somewhere above, distant shouts, and loud electronic music leaking from somewhere nearby.

I looked around in stunned disbelief. My clothes – the Giravian Imperial Guard uniform, once a source of silent pride – were torn and filthy, looking absurd and alien in this place. My breastplate was cracked, and my longsword... was gone. Vanished. Perhaps lost in the cosmic chaos, or maybe stolen while I was unconscious. I felt a stab of cold panic. My sword was an extension of my arm, a part of me. Now I was unarmed in this unknown hell.

I checked myself. Bruises and scrapes, but nothing seemed serious. The metal magic within me was faint, like a flame struggling to stay lit after a storm, but it was still there. I could feel the cold metal of the alley beneath me, the rusted iron in the pipes, the unknown alloys in the distant structures I could barely see.

I moved cautiously towards the alley's end, leaning on the slick wall. What I saw made me stumble back a step, mouth agape.

This wasn't a city as I knew it. It was a monster of metal, glass, and neon stretching endlessly, piercing a sky choked with dark clouds that hid any trace of sun or stars. Massive towers, some gleaming with cold silver, others covered in grime and flickering holographic advertisements displaying rapid images of products and faces I didn't understand. Below, a wide street teemed with movement. Strangely shaped vehicles, some hovering a few inches above the ground emitting a sharp whine, others rolling on glowing wheels, raced and honked with jarring electronic sounds.

And the people... they weren't ordinary people. They were a strange mix. Some wore functional, dark clothing; others wore garish colors and shiny fabrics. Many of them were... modified. I saw gleaming metal arms replacing flesh and bone, eyes glowing with artificial blue or red light, wires connecting to their skin and disappearing beneath their clothes. They moved quickly, faces grim or blank, ignoring each other, lost in their own worlds.

It was an overwhelming sight, terrifying, and somehow nauseating. This wasn't my world. This wasn't Giravia, not even Arcanorus with its technology that seemed primitive compared to this. Where was I? When was I?

"Heh, look what the storm dragged in, Zik."

A rough, mocking voice came from behind me. I spun around quickly, instinctively adopting a defensive stance, despite having no weapon.

There were two of them, emerging from a deeper shadow in the alley. Young men, perhaps late teens, but their eyes held a hardness beyond their years. They wore torn leather jackets over shabby clothes, their hair dyed bright colors – neon green and shocking pink. What caught my attention were their eyes. They weren't natural. Cheap artificial eyes, glowing with a faint, irregular red light, as if about to fail. One, the taller, thinner one, was expertly looping a thin metal wire around his fingers with unsettling dexterity. The other, shorter and stockier, grinned, revealing silver teeth.

"Looks lost, doesn't he?" said the shorter one with the silver teeth, taking a step towards me, his artificial eyes greedily scanning my torn clothes. "Weird threads. Look... old. Might be worth a few creds at the scrap dealer, huh?"

"Or maybe he's got something better hidden, Rex," said the taller one, Zik, wrapping the wire around his fist. "What about it, stranger? Got any 'credits'? Any 'chips'? Anything shiny for us?"

I didn't understand half of what they said. "Credits"? "Chips"? But their tone was clear. These were street thugs, scavengers of this era, seeing me as easy prey.

"Stay back," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, but it came out hoarse from my dry throat and the shock. "I don't want trouble."

Rex laughed, a loud, grating sound. "Oh, it talks! Funny accent, though. What lower sector did you crawl out of, grandpa?"

"Doesn't matter where he's from," Zik said, his red eyes momentarily stopped flickering and focused sharply on me. "What matters is what he has. C'mon, empty your pockets, or this alley will be the last thing you see." He advanced towards me, the wire in his hand suddenly looking much more threatening.

I tensed. My guard instincts screamed at me to fight, to use the environment. I felt the metal in the walls, the pipes, even in their cheap cybernetics. I could... maybe I could do something. But my power was weak, and this world was unknown. Did metal magic even work the same way here? What were their real weapons?

Just then, as Zik closed in, a bright blue light flashed from the main street, accompanied by the sharp, intermittent wail of a siren. I saw a sleek white vehicle bearing symbols I didn't recognize screech to a halt at the alley entrance.

"Scrap! 'Peacekeepers'!" Rex cursed, his expression shifting from menace to anxiety.

"Let's bolt!" Zik grabbed Rex's arm. They shot me one last look filled with malice and the promise of return before disappearing rapidly into the deep shadows at the other end of the alley.

They left me alone again, heart pounding violently, breath coming in ragged gasps. "Peacekeepers"? Were they the police of this age? Would they help me, or was I about to fall into even bigger trouble?

Two figures emerged from the white vehicle. They wore dark grey uniforms with light armor, and helmets that covered their faces entirely, with glowing blue visors where eyes should be. They moved with almost robotic efficiency, strange-looking weapons holstered on their thighs.

They headed straight towards me. There was no empathy or curiosity in their gazes (or visors), only cold assessment.

"Identity verification required," one said, its voice metallic and artificial, emanating from the helmet. "You are in a restricted zone past partial curfew. State your name and Citizen Identification Number."

Name? ID number? I had no idea what they were talking about. I stood there, under the acid rain, in the heart of a nightmarish city of neon and metal, facing an authority I didn't understand, completely unarmed.

I realized then that the catastrophe I had escaped might just be the beginning of a new, more complex nightmare. This future... might be more dangerous than the past I left behind.