Gira chased after Vidrago, who guided him towards a small sitting area that was being tended to by a spider-like mechanoid like the one in the Manor’s cafeteria area. The most glaring difference was the special paint that decorated it. As it moved, Gira was mesmerized by the display of shifting colors under the blacklight.

  The tables were thankfully illuminated by a soft glowing orange light that let Gira spot the utensils and decorations on the black tables. Vidrago found them a table and sat, gesturing Gira over.

  The low glow of the light finally let Gira see the stranger in the low light. He was unlike anyone he had met so far. Vidrago was pale as a ghost, his almost white skin contrasting with all the black clothing he was wearing.

  Gira leaned in, trying to get a better look. “A-are you a guy or a girl?”

  “I’m male by design…” Vidrago said his voice smooth and feminine.

  Gira leaned in, trying to get a better look at his face. Vidrago was wearing dark, shadowy makeup that seemed to glimmer under the right light. Thick liner rimmed his pale grey eyes like finely smudged coal. His lips were lacquered in a gradient of black matte and fading starlight blue. He also had strange star-shaped stickers on his face that seemed to shimmer under the low light. He had long, flowing black hair that melted into a milky gradient that sparkled under the blacklight.

  He had strange black piercings that hugged the rims of his earlobes. Around his neck were two matching chokers with the words Anastasis engraved into them in fine lettering.

  He was wearing a shredded black top that barely clung to him, teasing more than it covered, leaving his chest exposed and revealing a slender midriff sheathed in sheer, nylon-like fabric that shimmered faintly with each breath. He wore a single sleeve? Or rather, one arm was wrapped in a sleek, black brace that spiraled tightly from shoulder to wrist, except for his fingers. The other arm was naked save for the ink: a sinuous tattoo, like black lightning, ran down the length of it, curling toward his fingers before disappearing into polished nails painted the color of a sparkling night.

  Gira tried to peer over the table for a better look—only to be met with Vidrago leaning in, his smirk slow, eyes gleaming with playful intent.

  “Curious, are you?” he whispered softly.

  A strange chill crept up Gira’s spine. He jolted, slipping back into his chair with a flustered laugh. “Hehe—I’ve just never seen such a pretty guy. Most of the guys I meet either look like me… or they’re all big and scary.”

  Vidrago giggled, clearly entertained. “Mm. That’s just my personal charm,” he murmured, drawing out the words as he slid a small, circular device across the table. It glowed faintly under the light. “Go on,” he said, tilting his head, his gaze never leaving Gira’s. “Order whatever tempts you.”

  “Oh, thanks!” Gira fumbled with the small device. “Ummm, how do I use this thingie?”

  “Let me show you.” Vidrago gently took it from him, brushing his fingers just a little too close. He slid his crystalcomm across it with practiced ease. A vivid, arcade-themed menu flickered to life on his crystalcomm.

  “Ohh!” Gira dug around in his clothes trying to find his crystalcomm. “Wait—ah… It’s gone!” He checked again, increasingly frantic. “Ugh… Serfet’s going to scream at me… Oh well!” He laughed awkwardly, forcing a smile. “Mind if we share menus?”

  “No problem on my end…” Vidrago murmured, dragging his seat closer until their arms nearly brushed.

  The blacklight painted sharp edges on Vidrago’s silhouette, throwing his features into striking contrast. Gira blinked. “Are you sure you’re not a girl?”

  Vidrago smiled, unbothered. “I get that a lot,” he said, holding the menu out between them. “I mean, I could be—if I wanted. That’s the beauty of being Servinae.”

  “You’re a Servinae?” Gira asked, eyes wide with surprise.

  Vidrago gave a soft chuckle. “Why else would I be here?” he mused, lazily dragging a finger across his crystalcomm. “Try this—it’s rich, a little sweet, and just the right amount of spicy.”

  “Creuzent à la Incarnata”

  “Rich? Okie, I’ll give it a shot! I’ve been dying for some cooked food.”

  The two ordered the same thing from the mechanoid that delivered some well deserved water to their table.

  A spider-limbed mechanoid delivered two glasses of water and took their order. Gira eagerly snatched up the glass, only realizing now how dry his throat felt. He drained it in one go, then sighed with satisfaction. “Ah… that hits my sweet spot.”

  Vidrago watched him with a small smile. “So… what brings you here, Mr. Gira?” he asked, swirling the water in his glass. “You're clearly not from around here.”

  “I came here for that dumb match.” Gira pointed upward. “The Parabellum Onryō.”

  Vidrago’s gaze followed his finger. He hummed, tapping the rim of his glass. “Parabellum Onryō… How odd.”

  “Odd?” Gira tilted his head.

  “It’s just…” Vidrago’s voice softened, the glint in his eye shifting—less playful now, more curious. “You don’t strike me as the violent type. Why would someone with such an innocent soul care for senseless bloodshed?”

  The blacklight caught his eyes just enough to reveal a flicker of unease beneath the smirk.

  “Welp, I wasn’t exactly interested in the duel,” Gira admitted, shrinking into his seat. “Honestly… after the fight, I felt really sick. I had never felt like that before. It had to happen, sure, but—” he lowered his gaze, “—it just didn’t sit well with me.”

  Vidrago leaned back, his smile thinning. “A thing like that… always rubbed me the wrong way. Such a pathetic excuse to kill.” He chuckled, but it was hollow. “Then again,” he added, voice drifting, “my fellow Servinae do love death… On the bright side… thanks to that stupid match, the Arcade was nice and empty.” His smirk returned. “I got to let loose a little.”

  Gira’s hair bits twitched. “What do you do here anyway? I’ve never been in such a flashy place.”

  “Oh, you know…” Vidrago made a slow, sweeping gesture. “Relax. Play games. Indulge in the simple pleasures of life.”

  “Simple pleasures…” Gira mumbled.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  Vidrago turned his eyes to him again, head tilted just enough to make the moment feel deliberate. “Would you like to share one with me?” he asked, voice dipped in a teasing tone. “Come play with me, Mr. Gira.”

  Gira pulled back, flustered. “y-ye—yes,” he stammered, cheeks warming.

  Vidrago giggled, amused. “Adorable,” he teased lightly, then tilted his head. “So… where are you from, Mr. Gira?”

  “Where am I from?” Gira echoed, tapping a finger to his lips. “Hmm… where am I from…?” He paused, striking a thinking pose. “Yikes—I have no clue!” he finally declared, before clasping one hand into the other with sudden confidence. “But I do know it’s probably somewhere cold and wet.”

  “Cold and wet?” Vidrago raised a brow. “What do you mean by that?”

  Gira gave a half-shrug, still smiling. “Gut feeling.”

  Vidrago’s gaze lingered on him for a beat longer, his expression softening. “Hmm…” he hummed, the corners of his mouth lifting as he studied the young man’s curious grin.

  Just then, the spider-like mechanoid returned, delivering their plates with precise, gentle movements. It bowed once before skittering away into the dim glow of the arcade’s shadows.

  The Creuzent à la Incarnata was a very attractive dish—plated with artful care. A fragrant medley of meat, herbs, and rich purée paired with golden, flaky croquettes. Sweetness clung faintly to the air, undercut by warm spice.

  Gira smiled wide, his senses going into carnal overdrive as he took in the delicate scent of the food. “Wooooah,” he whispered, overwhelmed by the aroma. “It smells soooo good…”

  Vidrago licked his lips, watching Gira with barely veiled amusement. “Let’s dig in,” he said smoothly.

  Gira nodded along as they ate, his focus consumed by the rich, comforting flavors. Conversation dwindled into silence, the kind shared between those briefly freed from unknown burdens. For Gira, each bite was a sweet escape—an anchor from the echoing discomfort etched deep into his bones.

  “Wow… that was delicious,” he sighed, rubbing his stomach with satisfaction. “I really needed that—especially after all that nasty flesh I had to eat.”

  Vidrago dabbed his lips with a napkin, setting it down with slow precision. His eyes lost in Gira’s. “Then let’s have some fun.”

  “Fun? What kind of fun?” Gira blinked, perking up.

  Vidrago stood, the light shifting across his features as he faded into the darkness beyond their table. He turned, extending a hand toward Gira with a grin full of promise. “Let me show you.”

  Without hesitation, Gira reached out—and together, they vanished into the velvet dark of the arcade, neon glimmers tracing their path into the unknown.

  Just outside the arcade, Xizu, Holly, and Alice were lost in the stormy gray display of the Inverted Rain. Droplets surged upward across the glass in unnatural, esoteric torrents—defying gravity in a dance of chaos. Above them, violent pink arcs of lightning rippled across the sky, each one slicing through a dreadful aurora that painted the gray in sinister light.

  Xizu clutched her crystalcomm, her voice tight as she listened to Bern.

  “Xizu,” Bern said, barely keeping it together. “You need to get out. Now. Find Aria and get as far away from that water as you can.”

  Xizu felt her unease seep deep into her. “Bern, what is this? I’ve never seen this much abyssal condensation.”

  “It’s Retrocosmic Intrusions from the abyss,” Bern replied, breath shaky. “We can talk about it later. Just get the girls somewhere safe. Please.”

  Xizu pressed a hand to the glass, her gaze sinking to where the public garage should have been.

  It was gone.

  Swallowed by the storm.

  Dark waves crashed against the flying tower’s lower levels. Xizu’s eyes drifted to her side, where she could see the Curvadoss Sky Scraper rocking against the powerful waves.

  Her breath caught in her throat. “Bern… they’ll need backup from Krreat. This—this is too much.”

  Thunder rumbled in the distance as dark clouds swallowed the fading light above. The sky churned with layers of motion—towering, twisted masses roiling in silence one moment, then breaking into flashes of violent light the next. The Retrocosmic Intrusion had brought forth a living storm, its underbelly blue-gray and seething, with unknown echoes of another world.

  “High Commander Forge and Terror are gathering… kssh …reinforcements. I’ll be joining them shortly. You just—tight and— kzzzt—low until—” Bern’s voice cut as darkness completely overtook the Cetarro Sky Scraper.

  “Bern? Bern?!” Xizu cried out—but the line was dead. No response. Fuck… even with the new satellites…

  “Mom…” Alice whimpered, clinging to her side. Holly followed, wordless but holding on just as tight.

  Xizu tried to smile, but her unease couldn’t be masked as the storm beyond howled in muffled rage.

  Two floors below, Mera, Serfet, and Aria pushed through the thick crowds of Servinae who were completely unfazed by the darkness or the distant rumble of thunder.

  Mera was wearing her Kyyr Retina and was scanning the crowds looking for Gira’s shattered soul, but amidst the endless tide of Servinae—hundreds of them, each radiating with their own soul—it felt like trying to find a splinter of starlight in a lightning storm.

  Serfet tried to ponder the mess of a brain that Gira had. Where would he go—and why? He sifted through the fragments he’d come to understand about him… His eyes flicked from shop to shop—each bursting with games, bizarre art, flashy clothes, sex toys, exotic pets, and food. So many distractions. So many temptations. Where, in this tower of endless indulgence, would a weary Coarseblood choose to rest?

  They stepped onto another escalator, ascending slowly as the storm outside flashed through the distant windows.

  Aria suddenly spoke up. “What about the entertainment floor? Didn’t you say he’s like… a fully grown little boy?”

  Serfet sighed, shoulders slumping. “Yeah… I just figured we’d check these lower floors first, just in case. He’s so damn unpredictable sometimes…”

  Aria gave him a crooked, uneasy smile, her eyes drifting over the dense sea of Servinae and then out toward the turbulent sky. “We’ll find him… I’m just not sure about sending him out there. It feels a little cruel.”

  Mera nodded slowly, her fingers anxiously tapping against each other. “I don’t think Mr. Gira should go alone. I mentioned it in my report—but when Mr. Savagrios took me into the Gilded Forest we encountered a new infected class… It was there. The same thing I saw back in Primordía…”

  “Don’t worry, you two—I never said anything about letting him go alone,” Serfet said with a reassuring smile. “If anything, I’m more nervous about what he’s doing right now. I mean, the kid got brutalized out there.”

  Mera instinctively embraced herself, the memory flashing sharp and sudden. She could still see his mangled body painfully mending itself under the weight of Borren’s fists.

  “True…” Aria mumbled, still staring into the gray beyond the glass. A beat passed, then her eyes widened slightly. “Wait—what if he already jumped out?”

  “Ah.” Serfet’s eyes grew wide.

  Mera hesitated, thinking about Gira and Savagrios’s personalities. “Well…” she glanced at Serfet. “Umm…”

  “He’s not that stupid… I hope,” Serfet muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Let’s just focus on finding him up here first.”

  Aria gave him an uncertain look, while Mera nodded with uneasy hope.

  And so their search continued.