Planet XSQ-1287, Substation 33, Year 16,369 A.I. (9 Weeks after Seraphina’s Awakening.)

Freedom! By the cosmos above, sweet, glorious, heavenly freedom! For the first time in my life, there are no guards, no security details, no Madison looking over my shoulder. Okay, yes, I’d be fine with Madison looking over my shoulder or her hand in mine or… really, any time with Madison would be good. But it would be better if it weren’t always in the position of her treating me like a child! I mean, yes, I’ve only existed… been conscious for a couple of months now. But she should know better than anyone that I was created with the body of an adult and the mental capacity to make my own decisions, rather than having to be told what to do!

I am not going to stay trapped in my room any longer, even if it is, as the security staff says, ‘for my own good’. ‘For my own good’ my left foot! It’s for my own good that I want to see the world I was created to save!

Though, I really don’t know much about where I should go first. Like… Do I just walk into a random building and start asking random people questions about their life and their world? Or, like, is there a place specifically to do that sort of thing? Maybe there’s a gym or training facility somewhere nearby? That sounds like fun! Ooh, getting to train with new people sounds like fun. That, and new meals, new company. So many buildings, so tall! So much to see and do and I hope that, in time, I’ll get to experience it all!

I sprout my [Etheric Wings] and take to the sky. Between the sprawling buildings, most of which extend well over a thousand feet into the air, there are numerous people flying about on pathways that don’t seem to be well defined, but are followed by all nonetheless. Some, like me, are flying under their own power, though most don’t have wings like mine. The method varies. Some control air currents around them to generate lift, others manipulate gravity directly as my [Gravilance] does. A few have some sort of… my [Anomalous Decryption] describes it as ‘Psionic Force’. So their will is strong enough that they just command the force of gravity to submit, and then it actually does so? How cool!

Most people, however, use a miniature version of the transports we used to reach the Tower Gauntlet last week. About the size of my bathroom, and maybe a foot shorter than I am tall. These personal transports hover off the ground with an Etheric antigravity engine and some sort of propulsion mechanism that allows them to go… quite fast. Not ‘Seraphina’s top speed’ fast, but still a lot faster than many of the people flying under their own power.

The wind… it doesn’t smell very good as I merge into the nearest skyway. The stench of metallic tang and rust and some sort of oily stench as though one of the engines is busted… Is that corrupted Ether? I mean, I didn’t even know Ether could corrupt like that, but it smells absolutely fetid. Bad enough to give me a headache, but not so bad that it’s disrupting my senses.

On the other hand, the temperature is amazing, and the wind— stench aside— feels amazing as it whips against my face and ruffles my hair. So crisp, so cool. The overcast skies, dimmed further by the shade of tens of thousands of towering buildings, provide a comfort I’ve not gotten to experience in the carefully climate-controlled environment of Substation 33.

And so I fly for a good while, toward nowhere in particular, not paying much attention to anywhere or anywhen but the here and the now. Another skyway crosses about a hundred feet above the one I’m currently on. I glance upward, looking for any transports or people who look particularly interesting. Nothing immediately catches my attention but… Woo! With a single flap of my wings, I launch myself upward and merge into the new path.

I’m now flying between two small transports, both painted a bright, pastel red. With [Anomalous Decryption], I’m able to easily pierce through the dark privacy veil shrouding the windows of the transport on the left and look within. The driver is a young woman, probably barely an adult, with stunning onyx hair and incredibly pale complexion. There’s a strange aura about the woman, and though I’m intrigued and wish to know more, I resist the urge to peer more into her status with my Skill. Instead, I, with some reluctance, descend onto another path, again following no grand plans other than the whimsy of the moment.

I see a building with a flashy neon sign. ‘Stonehorse Pub, Est. 11472’ is emblazoned on the front. A pub… I think these are establishments that serve food and drink to people? I’ve never been to one. Are they different from the dining hall back at the substation? Back… I guess it’s home, though with all of the sterility one would expect of a research facility and little of the personalization— all of which, even in my own room, has been hard-fought to achieve.

I reach into my [Inventory]. I have some six thousand credits. Unfortunately, I have no idea if that’s a lot or a little. Hopefully it’s enough for a single meal, because I’m hungry and I don’t want to cause any trouble.

With another flourish of my wings, I’m descending out of the skyway and toward the entrance down below. It’s not on the surface, but instead, there’s a small platform of steel and concrete serving as a tiny parking lot and patio space. I say parking lot, even though there’s only two cars resting on it. A discrepancy I rectify mentally when I notice a patron placing his hand on his car. A moment later, it begins dissolving into an amorphous region of glowing red light, and then it is all absorbed directly into his hand, neatly stowed away in his [Inventory].

The tavern is… loud. So many people. So many conversations going on! And unlike back at Substation 33, they are crude. Burps and other releases of gas, and awful stenches of sweat and gross body odor that hasn’t been showered in at least three days. And why, by the power of the entire cosmos at once, does the facility smell of dried excrement? Is that the sort of crowd that all taverns cater to?

I glance around, discreetly sniffing the air. At least the food present smells… edible. Maybe not tasty, even by the standards of the dining hall. But edible, and probably not too toxic. Even if it is, [Etheric Self-Repair] should be able to patch up any damage the food causes me. Besides, I came here for the experience and to see the world! I’ve conquered over half of the Tower Gauntlet! I’m not going to let a little danger slow me down in the slightest.

I walk into the tavern with my head held high, making my way over to the man standing behind the counter. Several of the patrons look up, briefly glaring at me, but even more don’t even notice, wobbling about, completely engrossed in conversations that are so rambunctious and lewd that I can’t restrain a blush.

“Um,” I say. “Can I order something?”

The middle-aged bartender with a scar across his left eye and a handlebar mustache looks up and gives me a grin, though I can’t tell if it’s gleeful or sinister. Probably both. “Well, you’re a new face ‘round here. Looking for something to help you forget the sight of an ex-boyfriend?”

“I don’t… I don’t have one of those. I just came because I was getting hungry and thirsty.”

“Well, I can’t say the food here is anything special, but we’ve got plenty to quench your thirst. What do you want? Got seven brews on tap and a few other bottles, plus more than a few cocktails from the smooth and fruity to the kind that’ll really make you forget.”

“Umm… Let’s go for something with a nice fruit taste. Then I might try something a bit stronger later.”

“Alright! I like your style, Miss! What’s your name, if I may?”

Not seeing any reason why I shouldn’t answer, I do. “Seraphina.”

“That’s an interesting name. Don’t think I’ve ever met another Seraphina before, and I’ve been working in the business for nearly twenty years now.”

“It’s the name I was given when I was born. Never felt a reason to change it.”

“Oh, cosmos above, I’d never suggest you do such a thing!” As he speaks, I watch him pour a black liquid, two clear liquids, and what I think is orange juice into a metal container, which he shakes vigorously before pouring it into a sugar-rimmed glass with a long stem and wide mouth.

I retrieve a hundred credits out of my [Inventory]. “I’m not sure what the price is going to be; if I need some more, just let me know.”

The man laughs. “A hundred credits? I know cocktails are a bit pricey, but I’d be able to get you three more for that, and still have some left over for some food from the back.”

I sheepishly laugh. “Apologies. This is my first time in one of these taverns and I hadn’t thought to check exactly how much everything would cost. Just… hoped I’d have enough money to pay for everything.”

The bartender’s expression remains neutral. “And if it hadn’t?”

“I guess I would have had to go exploring a dungeon or two to find enough treasure that I could sell to pay off what I owed.”

“You’re one of those dungeon divers?” The man’s gaze grows a bit more stern. “I didn’t take you for someone interested in those sorts of dangers.”

“I’ve gone inside a few of them. It’s scary, but also rewarding.”

This gets the man to chuckle. “Well said indeed.” He hands the beverage down. “I’ll let the back know and see if they can’t get some food ready for you.”

I take a drink of the liquid. It’s sweet, with both sour and bitter undertones. I can taste the orange flavor, mixed with that of a different fruit. Maybe blackberries? I know of them, but not what they taste like. Really sweet, though. And then there’s some more sugar, and… the last ingredient is really smooth, but also bitter. It lingers on my tongue and in my mouth and throat even after I drink it down. It’s like… vapor coming up out of me. And I feel a strange sensation welling up. Not amazing, but I can see how people could learn to enjoy it.

I take a few more sips of the liquid, feeling a little more comfortable with the discordant surroundings as I acclimate to being in this strange environment. Then there’s an odd status window that shows up in the corner of my right eye, which confuses me.

[You are affected by [Intoxication (Mild)]: You have imbibed on an intoxicating substance. Decreases [Speed] by 3%, and [Mind] by 5%. Gain resistance to other effects with the [Mind-Altering] properties and greatly increased resistance to [Fear]-based status effects. (Warning: Effect of multiple instances of [Intoxication] stacks. Continued use can lead to the [Addiction] status condition.)]

I cast [Etheric Self-Repair] upon myself. It takes more time and nearly eight hundred points of [Ether], but I’m able to purge the intoxicant from my body. I turn to the bartender with a disgruntled look.

“What was the big idea, serving me poison?”

He shushes me, and a few other people turn to us. “It’s just liquor, not poison,” he says in an exasperated tone. His voice lowers to a pointed whisper. “Yes, it will inflict [Mild Intoxication] upon you, but it’s legal, commonly consumed by plenty of people, and reasonably safe when consumed in moderation.”

I sigh and set the glass down. “I– I’m sorry. This is the first time I’ve come to a tavern, and I guess I didn’t know that I’d be hit with that status condition so suddenly.”

The man behind the counter, whose name I still don’t know, just laughs it off.

“First time, first time. Yeah, I was there once. And you aren’t alone. I had one girl about… oh, fifteen years or so ago. Nearly went into a panic attack after having half a drink. Just, make sure to stay in moderation. As long as you’re just in the [Mild Intoxication] state, the risk of serious side effects or getting hit with [Alcohol Dependence] is fairly low. Never zero, mind you, but low. Safe for most people.”

“Yeah, I got you.”

The door opens again, revealing a tall figure clad in an ankle-length dress. Their— her, most likely— face is covered in a veil, and their aura is imperious and imposing. They walk with overwhelming confidence, completely unperturbed by the looks from the onlookers as they strut directly toward me. They take the seat right next to mine, not caring in the slightest that it belonged to someone else just a minute ago, their empty glass still sitting on the bar.

Her— I’m sure of it now, hearing her voice and seeing a bit of her face from within her veil— turns to me. It takes me a moment, but now I remember. This is the same woman in that transport I saw a short while ago. Was she heading to the tavern as well? Or did she come looking for me, specifically?

“You,” she says, in a low, seductive yet authoritative tone. “We need to talk.”