Digital Onion

Chapter 2

Chapter 2.1: The Stranger's World

The portal's light faded as Damai and Naine stumbled forward, their steps heavy on unfamiliar ground. Aidan had been the last to pass through, and now he stood a short distance ahead, scanning the horizon as if confirming they had arrived safely.

The world around them was unlike anything Damai had ever seen. Gone were the towering skyscrapers, endless drones, and neon holograms of Xeertopia. Here, the horizon was open and unbroken, fields of green and gold stretching as far as the eye could see. A warm sun bathed the land in a soft glow, and the air was rich with the earthy scent of tilled soil. In the distance, a modest village lay nestled against a line of hills, its thatched-roof houses exhaling thin plumes of smoke into the sky.

"What the hell is this place?" Naine broke the silence, her tone laced with confusion and a touch of suspicion.

"Jatavia," Aidan replied simply, his gaze still fixed on the village.

Damai squinted, shading his eyes against the sun. "It doesn't look like the kind of place you'd find in a simulation. Feels too... real."

"It's meant to," Aidan said. "This layer was designed to emulate an earlier way of life. A time before technology dominated everything."

Naine folded her arms, her eyes narrowing. "You're telling me they made all this—fields, houses, even the smell of dirt—just to trap people?"

Aidan turned to face them, his expression unreadable. "Not just to trap them. To remind them. Layers like this were built to simulate what came before. They're... archives, in a way. But make no mistake: it's still a prison."

Damai exchanged a glance with Naine, both of them clearly unsettled. The idea of such an elaborate simulation, built not just to contain but to reflect, added a layer of complexity to an already confusing reality.

"Let's move," Aidan said, nodding toward the village. "We need to find shelter and answers. Both are easier here than in the fields."

---

The walk to the village was tense, their footsteps crunching against dirt paths as they drew closer to civilization. It wasn't long before they attracted attention. A group of villagers stopped their work in the fields, their eyes narrowing as they watched the newcomers. A boy abandoned his basket of corn and ran toward the village, shouting in a language Damai didn't recognize.

"They don't look happy to see us," Naine muttered, her hand instinctively brushing the hilt of a blade strapped to her thigh.

"Don't," Aidan said sharply. "They're cautious, not hostile. Keep your hands visible and stay close."

As they entered the village, the atmosphere grew heavier. People gathered in small groups, their whispers barely audible but unmistakably wary. Their clothing was simple—worn tunics and trousers, patched and mended. Their hands were calloused, their faces weathered by sun and labor.

"Outsiders are rare here," Aidan explained quietly. "And when they do come, they usually bring trouble."

An older man stepped forward, his face lined with age and authority. He carried a wooden staff, not as a weapon but as a symbol of leadership. His eyes scanned the group, lingering on Aidan before moving to Damai and Naine.

"Who are you, and what do you want here?" His voice was firm but not unkind.

"We're travelers," Aidan said, stepping forward with his hands raised slightly. "We're seeking refuge—and understanding."

The man's gaze hardened. "Understanding of what?"

"The truth," Aidan replied. "About this world. About all the layers."