The|MULTIVERSE

EPISODE 37: Other World Problems

Universe Tiyo

Hezos Star Expanse: Vekta realm

The crescendo of heavy gunfire and explosions irritating the downtown depths of Aol'Metrelis was silenced behind the towering glass of Zolas Might. The chaotic boom and rumble of the metropolis fell upon deaf ears when faced with Zolas' soaring tower, a white metallic obelisk of ivory and gold that stabbed the sky like a sacred spike pricking the heavens, which wasn't all of that ordained if it was puncturing the heavens like a majestic whalebone spike skewering some revered saint's no-no zone. The smoky capital itself voiced its displeasure, thundering blasts rocked every edifice seen from miles on end. But in the eyes of Grand Vizier Falinaa Stelleco, the annoyance was mutual.

The Grand Vizier stood with unyielding expectation muffled beneath his solid white mask of three dark indentures (one of them eccentric visor-slots had to have been where his eyes resided, right?). For today's occasion, he decided the perfect fashion of attendance was his flax robes with the black of his robes' hood fitted over his head. He studied the city from the comfort of his airy and fluorescent Paragon Chamber, a spacious alcove of quilting lights and polished stone. He was safe beyond this hollow tower's barricades, but his safety was the least of his worries. His only desire was the city's future; the pearl of the Firon State. The fate of Kazran itself! He wished to end the city's petty quarrels and now, after several failed truces and overblown conspiracy theories, he knew exactly what to do.

Firon was one of humanity's finest state of the Kazran Continent, Vekta Realm's eastern land prominently governed by the human race. The realm of Vekta itself was a world of cherished value, a worth of great importance that Falinaar hoped to preserve with a method that not everyone agreed with. Kazran's wellbeing rested in his fine-gloved hands, under the decree of the now deceased Crown of Kazran, Imperator Tahlis Bezalt. In order to keep Kazran far from the reaches of undoing, Falinaar enforced a cure for this unneeded tension—engendered by frivolous ignorance.

"Grand Vizier." The reserved voice of one of his wardens arrived, having stopped a fair distance away and stood perfectly behind Falinaar; engulfed in his shadow. "Subversive activity in the East Division has been dissolved. The insurgents diverge as we speak. We also have determined the root of the resistance. Plans of engagement have begun."

The news was not as acceptable as Falinaar had wished to receive, but he shall make use of it. "The cause of rebellion is the very element that is far flagrant than rebellion itself, yet like a rash, it provokes until it is suppressed. To prevent this bothersome infraction from producing an imminent outbreak, we must eliminate the underlying quandary without compunction. However, we must be certain that this root is the true reason of our great city's distress, and must be tried. Detain the origin of this threat and deliver it to me. I wish to behold the face of our rebellion."

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The sinister dust conducted by Aol'Metris' midtown discord reflected the dangers of polluted smoke that seeped from the pipes of a toxic engine. Its smelly odor was the perfect scent of a holocaust, bitter catastrophe billowing to the sky, blocking the sun, and casting its dreary dread across every city sector surrounding the central anarchy at hand. While the dark clouds weren't the actual result of a sick exhaust pipe, they did permeate from the blasted carcasses of dead buildings, vehicles that looked like they could fly—once—and whatever those futuristic-looking obelisks were that sat like anorexic tetrahedrals scattered all over the city expanse.

The Caijun gunslinger; the Sirran eater of demons; the Varunian magic-pebble wizard; and the earth-born mech-mage alongside their fearless Sepian leader and his bright and shiny little fairy companion (and if you're not aware as to who they are by now—thirty-seven chapters in—then you've failed yourself) star-beamed into Vektan existence and found themselves observing the skyscraper city's magnificent glory—and struggle—from a grassy cliff.