CHAPTER 130: A WANDERER OF FANTASY

A Limbo Tier Divine Construct hovered silently atop a sandy ruin in Salissic Vein’s outer perimeter, its black dust form flickering faintly under the warped sky.

The psychic quake had passed, but its aftermath lingered like a venomous fog—colors still glitching in sporadic bursts, shadows stretching unnaturally before snapping back, and the distant wails of civilians caught in fleeting illusions echoing through the bastion’s concentric walls.

The Construct’s pale flame eyes dimmed as it processed its isolation.

Samael, the Divine Hive, had placed it in self-autonomy mode, detaching it from the hive network to shield her from the overwhelming sensory overload of the Aequorian phantoms.

But this severance felt different—absolute, without the planned residual link that would allow Samael to monitor its POV or data stream.

No faint hum of shared perceptions, no trickle of tactical updates from the other 199 Limbo Tiers scattered across the defenses.

"Is this intentional?" the Construct pondered in its airy, mechanical inner voice, a detached curiosity inherited from Samael’s personality.

Its form—humanoid and feminine, with cracked ash skin revealing swirling void, asymmetric horns glinting—one broken, one curved—remained poised, near-weightless as it floated just above the trembling ground.

There were no changes to its physicalities, so it must be spiritual related.

But it had no way of probing into it since it took its own entire Well of the Soul to directly reference the Divine Hive. Meaning that without the connection, it couldn’t do anything without a permission beforehand

Regardless, this Limbo Tier initiated a diagnostic probe, reaching out through its metaphysical core to test the connection.

Void essence swirled in its hollow sockets, analyzing for interference: psychic residue from the quake? Aequorian illusions severing the link? Or Samael’s deliberate command to go fully dark?

The probe extended like invisible threads, seeking the familiar resonance of the Divine Hive.

Before the diagnostic could complete, movement caught its attention. Down below, amid the chokepoints where reinforced gates groaned under illusory strain, a cloaked figure darted into a narrow alleyway of ruined remains.

The figure walked rather cautiously, hood drawn low, weaving through walls and rubbles as if something was chasing.

The Construct’s curious nature—semi-autonomous and observant—flared.

Unwilling to miss any suspicious detail that could prove valuable upon reconnection, it glided down silently—its movements sharp yet graceful, leaving no footprint or sound on the cracked stone.

The alley was a dim crevice, flickering with erratic glows as the whole place was strained against lingering distortions.

The Construct floated in, its pale flames tilting inquisitively.

Nothing.

The figure had vanished, somehow.

It turned to exit, but there she stood—the cloaked figure, blocking the alley’s mouth, presence materializing as if from thin air.

"What are you doing here?" the figure asked, her voice feminine and laced with wary curiosity. She tilted her head, peering at the Construct from beneath the hood. "Following me like some shadowy specter. Are you lost, or just nosy?"

The Construct paused, its broken horn casting a jagged shadow in the dim light. Now closer, it could discern details, a pair of horns jutting from her forehead, sleek and curved like polished abyss and crimson, and strands of white hair spilling from the hood’s edge, gleaming unnaturally in the glitchy ambiance.

"I merely wished to ensure everything is okay," the Construct replied, its voice airy and mechanical, calm with gentle detachment. "That is all. No harmful intention."

The figure chuckled, a soft sound that cut through the distant screams of illusion-afflicted civilians. "Okay? Well, I guess you’re rather missing the mark if you want to do that," She lowered her hood slightly, revealing more of her white hair and the faint glow of her eyes—light red, almost pinkish. "This is perfect timing, actually. I could use some answers. Mind if I ask you a few questions?"

The Construct considered. With the hive link down, it had autonomy, but its core directives remained, observe, protect, gather intelligence.

This stranger could be a source of information—perhaps tied to a whole different conspiracy or even brand new information that could be sold to the Karasu.

The potential was endless, and reporting back to Samael upon reconnection would be invaluable. "I will answer if it poses no danger," it said, tilting its featureless face. "What do you wish to know?"

"Firstly, let me introduce myself," the figure smiled, though her eyes remained guarded. "I’m Regret," she said, her voice carrying a melodic lilt that hinted at distant origins. "And I’m... dumbfounded, to say the least.

"One moment I’m minding my own business, the next I’m teleported here out of nowhere. So I really want to know where I am relative to my intended destination. Is this place anywhere near the folds of the Primordial Heartland?"

The Construct tilted its head further, its pale flames flickering in confusion. Primordial Heartland? The term didn’t register in its shared knowledge from Samael—no match in Fathomi’s known realms, distortions, or xenorealms. "I am unfamiliar with the Primordial Heartland," it replied respectfully. "Regardless, this is the outskirt of the Salissic Vein, a bastion of the Suiyen Concord, currently located within the territory of the Yevdat Kingdom."

Regret frowned, her horns catching the light as she shifted. "Fathomi? Yevdat? Never heard of it... Well, that about an outpost of the Celestial Nexus? There has to be one nearby—right?"

The Construct processed the query. Celestial Nexus could mean many things in Fathomi’s fractured linguistics—perhaps a reference to a group, a faction, an entity, or a distorted memory of xenorealms like the Eldritch City. But the intonation suggested an organization or place unfamiliar to its databases.

"The term ’Celestial Nexus’ is ambiguous," it explained. "Due to the constrictive nature of unified languages across origins, it could refer to various entities. If you mean an organization, I know of none by that name here. Perhaps you describe it further?"

"Well, that somewhat answered my question." Regret sighed, muttering under her breath, "Shouldn’t have taken that bolus from that suspicious vendor... Thought it was just a shortcut elixir." She shook her head, white hair swaying. "Alright, forget that. You seem... local enough.

"Or at least not hostile. Want to show me around this so-called bastion? I’m a little bit too afraid to enter seeing how crazy this whole distortion that is happening right now."

The Construct assessed. The bastion was in chaos, but this could yield "juicy" revelations, as Samael might phrase it—information on teleportation anomalies, potential threats, or even alliances.

With the link down, gathering data was paramount. "I arrived only hours ago," it admitted. "As a reinforcement, so I’m new to this place as you are. But exploring together could change that. How about we learn more of this place together?"

Regret’s eyes brightened, her horns glinting as she nodded. "Lead the way, shadowy one."

They emerged from the ruined alley into the bastion’s inner rings, where the psychic quake’s remnants painted a scene of controlled pandemonium.

Soldiers patrolled with drawn weapons, their faces strained as they herded civilians away from glitchy zones where reality still flickered—streets inverting colors, shadows whispering lies.

Some were appeared to be fighting amongst each other, possibly be due to the effect of the ongoing illusion.

Diviners chanted from elevated platforms, their robes billowing, hands weaving spells that created pockets of clarity, dulling the madness to a manageable hum.

But not everyone escaped unscathed: a merchant collapsed in laughter at an invisible joke, foaming at the mouth; a child screamed at phantom monsters, and many more.

"What’s happening here?" Regret asked, her voice cutting through the din as they navigated a bustling market square.

Stalls stood half-abandoned, goods scattered—fruits rolling underfoot, essence vials cracked and leaking.

She pointed ahead, where another Limbo Tier Construct guarded a diviner, its identical form hovering protectively. "And that one—looks just like you. Is that your sibling? A twin maybe?"

The Construct glanced at its kin, noting the synchronized grace in their movements despite the autonomy. "The bastion endures a dire assault," it explained. "A psychic quake struck, followed by mass illusions from the Hollow Aequor—abyssal horrors twisting minds. Those with the fancy robes with helpful incantation, th diviners," it gestured to the chanting figures, "hold the madness at bay, stabilizing reality for the people."

Pausing, it addressed the second query. "As for your last question, that is another like me—a reinforcement sent to aid. You’re not wrong when you said that we’re siblings, but it is more like we’re intrinsically one connected entity." Though this Limbo Tier had been disconnected from that connection. "We are deployed to fend off the upcoming raid."

Regret nodded thoughtfully, her white hair catching a glitchy red hue from the sky. "So this place is turning into a battlefield. Unfortunate timing for a tour." She chuckled dryly. "But let’s make the most of it."

"Indeed."

They proceeded, the Construct leading with purposeful strides.

First, they visited a cluster of shops in the lower district, where resilient merchants hawked wards and essences despite the chaos.

One stall offered farms’ produce—glowing fruits that promised clarity against illusions. Regret sampled one, her horns twitching as she bit into the juicy flesh. "It tasted like bubble gum mixed with cough syrup," she murmured, though her eyes scanned the crowd warily.

The Construct observed, noting her unfamiliarity with Fathomi’s knowledge and a great display of foreign terms and words.

Next, a restaurant tucked into a reinforced alcove.

The air inside was thick with spices, a brief respite from the outside madness. They "sat"—the Construct hovering, Regret perching on a stool—as a harried chef served bowls of steaming broth decorated with all sorts of meat and vegetables.

"Not bad," Regret said, slurping noisily. "Reminded me of rendang but in soup form, ahaha."

From there, they ventured to the Void Hunter Chapter, a guild hall bustling with all sorts of unique figures that came to strive together.

"Ah, like an adventurer guild."

"That is certainly a familiar term I can relate to."

Regret chuckled. "It is quite hilarious that there is so many stories with the aspect of an adventurer guild."

"And now I have no idea what you’re referring to." The Construct’s internal diagnostic pinged. "Ah, looks like I’m back."

The hive connection reestablished, a flood of data rushing in, updates from otherDivine Constructs, Samael’s intents, shared POVs of the bastion’s stabilizing morale.

The information it had gathered—Regret’s questions, her unfamiliar terms—uploaded seamlessly, a "juicy" revelation indeed.

But as the link solidified, Regret was nowhere to be seen.

One moment beside it, talking like a quirky companion, the next, vanished like a dissipated illusion, leaving only a faint, warm breeze in her wake.