Arriving within Belobog, we are escorted to the administrative district and well 'held'. I see Stelle, Dan Heng and March all worried, yet this doesn't bother me. I remember this happening in the game and the logic makes sense since this place hasn't seen outsiders in hundreds of years.
Not only that but this group is powerful enough to fight Fragmentum monsters, it only makes sense for them to be cautious.
With a sigh, we are forced to wait before someone of higher rank comes, likely Bronya, if my memory serves me correctly but it has been long since I had went through this story so I'm not sure.
The others were tense and silent, I could feel them being stressed. While looking around I catch a reflection in a window.
It's Evernight, with a slight glance at March and a glare to kill it becomes obvious what she wants.
Sighing I proceed to speak up "Hey, sorry to bother you guys, but why are all of you so tense, last I checked we hadn't done anything illegal, so we shouldn't worry so much."
Stelle retorts "How are we not to worry! We are literally detained like criminals!" Dan Heng nods at the first part but sighs at the second while March is just listening.
I sigh, knowing my words are likely to be ignored.
Gritting my teeth I speak "Look I know this is far from the greatest situation, but at least now we aren't freezing off somewhere lifeless on this damned snowball. Like sorry this isn't the best situation, but damn no need to be so tense."
Stelle glares at me, Dan Heng just closes his eyes trying to ignore this. March is a little silent yet worry is obvious in her eyes.
Sighing again, I stand up and head over to March. Sitting down beside her I put my hand on her shoulder. "Look, the situation is far from poor. Plus I am sure we have more than enough strength to escape in any case so don't worry. Sorry for my earlier mistakes, but well I doubt that now I am making a mistake in believing everything will be alright. Okay?" as I say this I look at her, she is staring off into space, but seems to have mostly calmed down.
In a moment, a girl with silver hair, admittedly it's a little duller than mine but I don't know if I like it more or not- anyway she has silver eyes the same tint as her hair. She is wearing a white uniform, blue and purple bulb like earrings, the uniform looks like a dress and has several trinkets. On her legs she is wearing black boots with golden and blue accents that are quite a bit above her knees with only a part of her legs showing although they are covered with black stockings.
This is Bronya I recognize her from the game. Honestly? Even with our differing attire I could probably pass as her brother. Though my hair is closer to Phainon's white hair color.
The resemblance is actually kind of unsettling now that I'm seeing her in person rather than on a screen. I wonder if anyone else notices it, or if I'm just being paranoid about standing out even more than I already do.
We had then been brought into the office where we were questioned, not interrogated, not at all.
The room itself is more austere than I expected—functional, organized, but with little in the way of personal touches. A few official documents on the desk, a map of Belobog on the wall with various markings I can't quite make out from this distance. Everything speaks of someone who lives for duty rather than comfort.
Bronya was professional but not hostile, her questions methodical and precise. She asked about our origins, our purpose, how we survived the Fragmentum on the surface. Each question was delivered with the same measured tone, her posture perfect, her expression giving away nothing.
I found myself studying her responses as much as she was studying ours. The way her eyes tracked each of us when we spoke, cataloging reactions. The slight pause before certain questions, as if she was deciding how much to reveal by asking them.
Dan Heng handled most of the answers with his usual measured responses, his voice never wavering, never providing more information than necessary. "We're travelers. We encountered the Fragmentum near our landing site and dealt with it as we would any threat."
"Travelers," Bronya repeated, her tone making it clear she found the explanation incomplete. "From where, exactly?"
"Beyond Jarilo-VI," Dan Heng said, which was technically true and completely unhelpful.
I caught the slightest twitch of Bronya's eyebrow—the first crack in her professional demeanor. Frustration, maybe, or perhaps just recognition that she wasn't going to get more specific answers without pushing harder than she was willing to in this first meeting.
Stelle occasionally chimed in with more direct statements. "We've seen this kind of corruption before. We know how to handle it."
"Have you." It wasn't quite a question. Bronya's fingers drummed once against her desk, a brief gesture quickly stilled. "And where, precisely, have you encountered Fragmentum corruption before?"
"Other worlds," Stelle said bluntly. "This isn't the first time we've dealt with this."
The room went very quiet. I could feel the weight of that revelation hanging in the air. Other worlds. Confirmation that we weren't just from beyond Belobog's borders, but from beyond Jarilo-VI entirely.
Bronya's expression remained controlled, but I saw her grip tighten slightly on the armrest of her chair. "I see," she said finally. "That raises... numerous questions."
March was surprisingly quiet, though I caught her studying Bronya's reactions carefully. March was usually the most talkative of us, her warmth and openness a stark contrast to Dan Heng's reserve and Stelle's bluntness. The fact that she was holding back spoke to how seriously she was taking this.
Or maybe Evernight had warned her to stay quiet. Hard to tell sometimes with March.
I mostly stayed quiet, observing. My curse made extended conversations exhausting anyway, and I'd already used up my goodwill trying to calm everyone down earlier. Besides, Dan Heng and Stelle were handling this well enough.
Bronya's questions were pointed but fair, and I noticed she was watching not just our answers but how we interacted with each other. The way Dan Heng subtly positioned himself to keep all of us in his peripheral vision—old instincts from whatever he was running from. How Stelle's hand never strayed far from where her bat would be, ready despite the guards at the door. The way March's fingers drummed against her leg in a nervous pattern that matched the rhythm of Bronya's earlier gesture.
Was Bronya aware she'd made that gesture? Was March consciously mirroring it, or was it subconscious?
I shook off the tangent thoughts. Not the time to psychoanalyze social dynamics.
"You say you can handle the Fragmentum," Bronya said after a long moment. "I'll need more than words to verify that claim."
"You've already verified it," Dan Heng pointed out. "Your guards witnessed us fighting Fragmentum on the surface. That's why we're here and not in a cell."
Another almost-smile crossed Bronya's face, there and gone in an instant. "Fair point. Though I notice you're making assumptions about what would constitute a cell in this scenario."
Was that a joke? Threat? Both? Her tone made it impossible to tell.
The questioning continued for what felt like hours but was probably only forty-five minutes. Bronya was thorough, circling back to earlier questions with slightly different phrasing, looking for inconsistencies. It reminded me uncomfortably of police procedurals I'd watched in my previous life, though Bronya lacked the overt aggression those usually portrayed.
She was just... efficient. Methodical. Doing her job exactly as it needed to be done.
Finally, she seemed satisfied—or at least, satisfied enough. "You'll be permitted to remain in Belobog for now, under observation. I trust you understand the necessity."
"We do," Dan Heng agreed.
"Good." Bronya stood, and we all took that as our cue to do the same. "You'll check in with the administrative office every three days. Failure to do so will result in your movement being restricted. Am I clear?"
"Crystal," Stelle said.
Within the hour we could leave, yet our freedom was superficial as they were monitoring us.
I didn't need Dan Heng's whispered warning to notice. The guards were everywhere, trying and failing spectacularly to be subtle about following us through the streets. One even had the audacity to pretend to browse the same shop we entered, despite clearly having no interest in the historical texts Dan Heng was examining.
The guard picked up a book on pre-Freeze agricultural practices and held it upside down. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
March noticed too and caught my eye, her own lips twitching with suppressed amusement. At least the surveillance was entertaining, if nothing else.
Our group decides to split up with Stelle and March going together exploring the area while me and Dan Heng went to gather information.
"Try not to cause trouble," Dan Heng said as we separated, though I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or to March and Stelle.
Stelle just smirked. "No promises."
March waved enthusiastically as they headed off toward the residential districts, already chattering about wanting to see what kind of food they had here. I watched them go, then fell into step beside Dan Heng.
"Sorry but do you think they'll actually avoid trouble?" I asked.
Dan Heng didn't even glance at me. "No."
Fair enough.
We walked in silence for a while, and I found myself appreciating Dan Heng's lack of need to fill every moment with conversation. Some people found his reserve off-putting, but after my curse forced me to pepper every sentence with apologies, silence felt like a gift.
The city itself was fascinating in a bleak sort of way. Everything was built to last, to withstand the eternal cold. Heavy architecture, thick walls, minimal ornamentation. Practical to the point of being almost oppressive. The people moved with the same efficiency—no wasted motion, no lingering in the cold.
Not that I felt the cold, but I could see its effects everywhere else.
It took us a while but after talking with some shop owners, pedestrians and even guards we had mostly gathered an idea of the situation on Jarilo-VI.
One elderly shopkeeper was particularly talkative, sharing stories of "before the freeze" that his grandmother had passed down. His shop was small, cramped, selling preserved foods and basic supplies. The kind of place that probably hadn't changed much in decades.
"She used to tell me about flowers," he said, his weathered hands carefully arranging canned goods on a shelf. Each movement was precise, practiced—the result of years of the same routine. "Can you imagine? Fields of them, all different colors. Now we're lucky if the greenhouse crops don't freeze."
I tried to imagine it and couldn't. This world was ice and stone to me, had been since we arrived. The idea of it being anything else felt like a fairy tale.
"What happened?" I asked, then winced. "Sorry, if you don't mind talking about it."
The old man waved off my apology. "Seven hundred years ago, give or take. The Eternal Freeze came. Some say it was natural, others..." He trailed off, glancing around as if worried about being overheard. "Others say it was something else. Something we brought on ourselves."
Dan Heng leaned forward slightly, his interest piqued but his expression remaining neutral. "What do you mean?"
"Just stories," the shopkeeper said quickly. Too quickly. "Old legends. Nothing worth repeating."
But his eyes said otherwise. He knew something, or suspected something, that he wasn't willing to share with outsiders.
Dan Heng asked careful questions about the Supreme Guardian, about how long the current policies had been in place. I watched the old man's expression shift, becoming more guarded with each question.
"The Guardian does what she must," he said finally, his tone flat. Rehearsed. "We've survived seven hundred years, haven't we?"
But there was something in the way he said it, a hollowness that suggested he was repeating words he'd heard rather than expressing belief. Like a prayer recited so many times it had lost all meaning, becoming just sounds in the expected order.
We thanked him and left, and I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that conversation had left behind.
Another guard, younger and less careful with his words, let slip frustrations about supply distributions being "unfair to those below."
We'd found him on his break, sitting on a bench near one of the main thoroughfares, looking exhausted despite the early hour. He was young, maybe early twenties, with the kind of face that probably smiled easily under better circumstances.
"Long shift?" Dan Heng asked, settling onto the other end of the bench in a way that seemed casual but positioned him to observe the guard's reactions.
The guard glanced at us, recognized us as the outsiders everyone was talking about, and seemed to debate whether engaging was worth the trouble. Finally he shrugged. "They're all long lately. Extra patrols, new checkpoints, increased monitoring of the..." He stopped himself, but we could fill in the blank.
"The Underworld?" I supplied quietly.
His eyes widened slightly, then narrowed. "You didn't hear that from me."
"Hear what?" Dan Heng said mildly.
The guard relaxed fractionally. "Right. Nothing." He paused, then seemed to decide we weren't about to report him. "It's just... the supply distributions. Used to be more balanced, you know? Now everything goes up, nothing goes down. But we're all supposed to pretend that's normal, that there isn't—" He caught himself again, shaking his head. "Doesn't matter. I'm just tired."
He stood and walked away before we could ask anything else, but the picture was becoming clearer. Whatever was happening with the Underworld, it wasn't just neglect. It was active, deliberate policy.
From what the public had informed us of, Jarilo-VI had become mostly a frozen wasteland about 700 or so years ago. The Eternal Freeze, they called it. Seven centuries of isolation, of slowly dwindling resources, of fighting against the encroaching Fragmentum.
Every person we talked to had the same weary acceptance in their voices when they spoke of it. This was just how things were. How they'd always been, for generations beyond count.
I found myself unconsciously flexing my left hand—the ice arm that still hadn't fully recovered from whatever had happened before. The crystalline structure felt foreign, not quite numb but not quite sensation either. It responded to my commands well enough, but there was always this awareness that it wasn't... right. Wasn't natural.
Dan Heng noticed, his eyes flicking to my arm for just a moment before returning to his observations of the street. He didn't comment, but then again, he rarely did unless it was relevant to the immediate situation.
The public also talked about Cocolia, the leader and Supreme Guardian, but there wasn't any united opinion as it was mostly mixed. Some praised her strength and decisive leadership, speaking of how she'd maintained order and stability. These were usually the older citizens, the ones who remembered previous Guardians, who could compare.
"She's kept us alive," one woman said firmly when Dan Heng carefully broached the topic. "That's what matters. We're still here."
Others muttered about recent changes in policy when they thought no one important was listening—changes that seemed to favor the Overworld at the expense of everything else. These conversations were harder to come by, people glancing over their shoulders before speaking, voices dropping to barely audible whispers.
"Something's changed," a middle-aged merchant told us, ostensibly showing us his wares but really just needing someone to talk to. "Last few years, it's like she's not the same person. Colder. More distant. Makes decisions that don't make sense."
"Like what?" I asked, then added, "Sorry, just trying to understand the situation."
He studied me for a moment, his eyes lingering on my ice arm before moving to my face. "You're not from here, that much is obvious. Maybe that means you'll actually listen." He leaned in closer. "She's sealing us off. Not from the outside—we've been sealed from that for centuries. But from each other. The upper city from the lower. The people from the Guardian. Each decision pushes us further apart."
We also overhear of an underground area of Belobog and how there is tension between the upper and lower areas. The way people's voices dropped when mentioning the Underworld told us more than their actual words. One woman quickly shushed her companion when the topic came up, her eyes darting to the nearby guards.
The word "Underworld" itself seemed to carry weight, like speaking it too loudly might summon unwanted attention. Which, given the increased guard presence, wasn't entirely paranoia.
By the time Dan Heng and I made our way back to the meeting point, I had a headache from processing all the information and social dynamics. My arm ached in that peculiar way it did when I'd been tensing it without realizing, the ice structure grinding against itself in ways flesh and bone never would.
Meeting back with March and Stelle, we find out that they discovered quite a few places and even bought some clothes.
March was practically bouncing with excitement as she described the various shops and stalls they'd found, her arms full of bags. Stelle carried fewer bags but looked equally satisfied with their exploration.
"There's this amazing bakery near the administrative district," March said, her words tumbling over each other in her enthusiasm. "The bread actually tastes fresh! Well, as fresh as you can get when everything has to be grown in greenhouses. And there's this café where they make this drink from preserved citrus that's actually really good considering they probably haven't seen a fresh orange in centuries—"
"March," Stelle interrupted gently. "Breathe."
March laughed, unabashed. "Right, sorry. We also found the residential district. People were... interesting."
"Interesting how?" Dan Heng asked, his tone suggesting he was already preparing for whatever chaos they might have caused.
"Cautious," Stelle clarified. "But not hostile. Just... curious about outsiders. Some of the kids followed us around for a bit, asking questions. One of them asked if we were from 'the above-above' since we weren't from the Overworld but also weren't from the Underworld."
"The above-above?" I repeated, caught off guard by the phrasing despite myself.
"Cute, right?" March grinned. "Also concerning since it implies the kids know more about there being an Underworld than the adults are comfortable admitting." Her expression sobered slightly. "But that's not the important part."
She dug through one of her bags and pulled out what looked like a long sleeve shirt and a glove, both in dark colors that would probably blend well with my usual attire.
"Here," she said, pushing them into my hands. "I noticed earlier—your arm. It's pretty distinctive, and if we're trying not to draw too much attention..." She trailed off, suddenly looking uncertain. "I mean, if you want to. I'm not trying to say you should hide it or anything, just that it might make things easier? Sorry, I should have asked first—"
"No, it's—" I stopped, reorganizing my thoughts. "Thanks. Sorry, I mean—this is thoughtful. Thank you."
The glove was well-made, surprisingly so given what I assumed were limited resources. The material was thick enough to obscure the crystalline structure of my arm but flexible enough not to restrict movement. The sleeve was similar, designed to fit comfortably while providing coverage.
March looked relieved. "Good! I wasn't sure if I got the sizing right, but the shopkeeper was really helpful. She even asked if it was for medical reasons and suggested materials that would be comfortable for extended wear."
I tried them on, and March was right—the fit was nearly perfect. My ice arm was now completely concealed, looking like nothing more than someone wearing an extra layer against the cold.
"Better?" March asked.
"Much," I admitted. "Sorry, I should have thought of this myself."
"That's what team members are for," Stelle said simply. "Noticing things."
To my surprise March had decided to keep my cape/coat—I'd given it to her in a previous encounter when the cold had been particularly brutal, and she'd liked it enough to claim ownership. I'd almost forgotten about that, honestly. Seeing it draped over her shoulders looked oddly right, like it had been meant for her all along. The dark fabric contrasted nicely with her pink hair.
Which explained why she'd been thoughtful enough to buy me the glove and sleeve—she'd felt guilty about keeping the coat and wanted to make sure I had something to keep warm and cover my distinctive arm. Two birds, one stone.
Dan Heng seemed to notice my attention and followed my gaze. "It suits her," he observed quietly.
"Yeah," I agreed. "It does."
March only nodded before starting to discuss what they found with Stelle in more detail. It took a while but they finished explaining everything—they'd mapped out a good portion of the Overworld's layout, identified key locations, and even found what looked like restricted areas that might warrant investigation later.
And now they were looking expectantly at us. Dan Heng seemed to have the idea of pinning the explaining on me but with a slap to his back he sighed and started talking.
I'd seen that coming and had no regrets. Let him handle the social interaction for once.
He laid out what we'd learned in his typical organized fashion—the social dynamics, the tensions around the Supreme Guardian's policies, the mentions of an Underworld, and the clear information control happening among the populace. His summary was concise, efficient, hitting all the relevant points without unnecessary elaboration.
Stelle's expression grew progressively grimmer as Dan Heng talked. March's initial excitement faded into concern. By the time he finished, we were all quiet, processing the implications.
"So," Stelle said finally. "We've got a divided city, a Guardian making increasingly questionable decisions, and some kind of underground area that everyone knows about but no one wants to acknowledge."
"That about sums it up," Dan Heng confirmed.
"And the Fragmentum?" March asked.
"Getting worse," I said, flexing my gloved hand experimentally. The material moved well. "Everyone agrees on that much, at least. Whatever's causing it isn't getting better."
With the information shared we decided to head to the Underworld that March had found an entrance to.
Finding the entrance itself wasn't difficult—March had marked the location clearly on the rough map she'd drawn. What was difficult was the number of guards stationed nearby.
They weren't obviously guarding the entrance, but they were positioned in ways that made it clear they were monitoring who went down. Strategic placements at intersections, at shop fronts with clear sightlines, even one on a rooftop that we only spotted because Dan Heng had been specifically looking for elevated positions.
"Well trained," Dan Heng murmured, low enough that only I could hear. "Whoever set up this surveillance pattern knows what they're doing." He paused, observing a bit longer. "Though the individual guards vary in competence. The surveillance structure is professional, but not everyone executing it is equally skilled."
"We could just walk past," Stelle suggested, keeping her voice casual. "We haven't been told the Underworld is off-limits."
"Yet," Dan Heng added. "Let's not give them reason to make it official."
"So we sneak?" March asked, sounding far too excited about that prospect.
"We wait," Dan Heng corrected. "Guard rotations have patterns. There will be a gap."
So we waited, pretending to browse nearby shops while Dan Heng tracked the guard movements with that uncanny memory of his. I was terrible at this kind of patient observation—my mind wandered, caught on irrelevant details, got distracted by conversations happening around us.
But Dan Heng was focused, and about twenty minutes later he gave a subtle nod.
"Now."
We walked—not ran, not sneaked, just walked with purpose like we had every right to be there—past the checkpoint during the brief moment when the guard rotation shifted. The new guards were settling into position, checking in with each other, momentarily distracted from monitoring the entrance.
It wasn't sneaking, exactly. More like casual walking that happened to not draw attention.
The entrance to the Underworld was less dramatic than I'd expected—just a wide staircase leading down, lit by dim lamps that flickered occasionally. The walls were old stone, showing signs of age and repair. How deep did this go?
Very deep, as it turned out.
Heading down there we encountered far more Fragmentum. The difference was stark—where the Overworld had patrols and maintained barriers, down here the corruption spread more freely.
The path down was long, far longer than I'd expected. My legs were burning by the time we were halfway down, and I was grateful for my immunity to cold because the temperature fluctuated wildly—warm patches where thermal vents pushed heat up from below, then sudden cold spots where the ice had encroached.
The tunnel was clearly old, perhaps dating back to before the Eternal Freeze, and showed signs of hasty reinforcement over the centuries. Support beams that didn't match the original construction, clearly added later with whatever materials were available. Patches of newer material covering older damage—metal plates bolted over crumbling stone, concrete filling gaps in the ancient masonry.
And everywhere, the signs of Fragmentum corruption. The crystalline growths were thicker here, more prevalent. They caught the dim light and reflected it in unsettling ways, creating shadows that moved when they shouldn't.
I found myself unconsciously touching my gloved arm. The ice there resonated with the Fragmentum crystals in a way that made my skin crawl. Not painfully, but there was a... connection? Recognition? Like calling to like.
I really needed to figure out what had happened to my arm. Later. When we weren't descending into an apparently monster-infested underground city.
We had to fight off several groups of Fragmentum monsters before even reaching the bottom. The first group came out of nowhere—or rather, they'd been camouflaged against the crystal growths, and we'd walked right past them before they attacked.
March's arrows found their marks with practiced precision, ice coating the monsters and slowing them down. Stelle's bat work was brutal and efficient, each swing calculated for maximum impact. Dan Heng moved like water, his spear an extension of his body rather than a separate weapon.
And I... fought. My ice abilities came more naturally now than they had initially, though I still felt like I was improvising compared to everyone else's clear training. But I was getting better. The lance materialized smoothly when I needed it, and I'd stopped accidentally freezing my own feet at least.
Small victories.
"This is worse than the surface," March said after we'd dispatched another wave, ice still coating her bow. Frost crystals sparkled in her hair where they'd formed during the fight. "Way worse."
She wasn't wrong. The Fragmentum presence here felt oppressive, wrong in a way that went beyond just the physical threat. Like reality itself was thin here, worn down by whatever corruption was seeping through.
It appears that the Underworld although a little warmer was far more affected than the 'upper city'.
The warmth was relative—still cold enough that March, Stelle, and Dan Heng's breath misted in the air. But compared to the surface's brutal cold, this was almost comfortable.
Almost.
The walls showed more cracks, more of that telltale crystal growth that indicated Fragmentum presence. Some of the growths were massive, jutting out from the stone like geological formations that had no right to exist. The air itself felt different—heavier, more oppressive. Each breath felt like inhaling something slightly toxic, though nothing our bodies couldn't handle.
Dan Heng stopped at one particularly large crystal formation, studying it with that analytical expression he got when something caught his attention. "The corruption here is far more advanced," he said quietly. "These formations probably took years to grow to this size."
"So the Underworld's been dealing with this for a while," Stelle concluded.
"Probably longer than the Overworld wants to admit," Dan Heng agreed.
When we finally emerged into the Underworld proper, the sight was sobering.
Where the Overworld was maintained, organized, almost pristine despite the eternal winter, the Underworld was clearly struggling. Buildings showed signs of patchwork repairs—mismatched materials, hasty construction, structures that looked like they were held together more by determination than sound engineering.
The lighting was dimmer, relying on older technology that flickered occasionally, casting unsettling shadows across the streets. Some areas were lit by what looked like jury-rigged solutions—exposed wiring, salvaged components, things that probably violated several safety codes but worked well enough to keep the darkness at bay.
And the people...
The people looked tired. Worn down in a way that went beyond simple physical exhaustion. It was in their posture, their movements, the way they interacted with each other. This wasn't just poverty or hard living—this was survival at its most basic, grinding level.
A group of children ran past us, laughing despite everything, and somehow that made it worse. They'd probably never known anything different. This struggling, barely-functional existence was just normal to them.
"This isn't right," March said quietly, her voice tight with suppressed emotion.
No. No it wasn't.
Walking around there we come across Natasha, a doctor who runs a clinic within the area and also acts as a bit of a leader.
We found her clinic by accident, following the sound of raised voices. The building was one of the better maintained structures we'd seen—still showing signs of age and repair, but clearly someone's priority to keep functional.
Inside, the clinic was cramped but surprisingly organized. Medical supplies lined shelves with careful precision, everything labeled and sorted despite obvious scarcity. The space smelled of antiseptic and something herbal I couldn't quite place.
Natasha was treating a young man with what looked like Fragmentum burns on his arm, her movements efficient and practiced despite the clear frustration in her voice. She was older than I'd expected—maybe late thirties or early forties?—with the kind of tired competence that came from years of dealing with impossible situations.
"I've told you and the others a dozen times—don't try to salvage from the restricted zone. The Fragmentum contamination there is too strong."
The young man's face was pale, sweat beading on his forehead despite the relative coolness of the clinic. "We need the materials," he protested through gritted teeth. "Can't get them from above anymore, can we?"
His tone carried layers of bitterness that spoke to history I didn't know. Something had changed with supply lines from the Overworld, and recently enough that people still remembered it being different.
Natasha's expression tightened, but she didn't respond to that, focusing instead on treating the wound. Her hands moved with practiced certainty, cleaning the burn, applying some kind of salve that made the young man hiss in pain, then bandaging it with careful precision.
"Keep it clean," she instructed, her voice firm. "Change the bandage twice daily. If you see any crystal growth forming, come back immediately. And for the love of—stay out of the restricted zones."
The young man nodded, cradling his injured arm as he stood. He glanced at us as he left, his expression wary but not hostile. Just... tired. Like everyone else here.
It was only when she'd finished and the young man had left that she turned to address us, her guard immediately up.
"Overworlders," she said, and it wasn't quite an accusation but it wasn't friendly either. Her eyes scanned us quickly, cataloging details—our better-maintained clothing, our lack of obvious injuries or malnutrition, the way we carried ourselves. "You're either very lost or very foolish to come down here."
March stepped forward, her usual warmth softening her expression. "We're not from the Overworld. Well, we are now, but we're actually outsiders to Belobog entirely."
That got Natasha's attention. Her eyes sharpened, studying us more carefully now. Taking in details I suspected she'd dismissed on first glance—the way our clothing didn't quite match Belobog styles, the weapons that were clearly not local make, little things that added up to "not from here."
"Outsiders? There haven't been outsiders in..."
"Seven hundred years," Dan Heng finished, his tone neutral. "Yes, we've heard."
Natasha was silent for a long moment, and I could practically see her mind working through implications, possibilities, whether we were telling the truth or this was some elaborate deception.
Finally: "Prove it."
"How?" Stelle asked simply.
"I..." Natasha hesitated, clearly not having expected that response. "I don't know. It's just—that's impossible. No one comes here. No one leaves. That's just how it is."
"Until it isn't," I said quietly, then added, "Sorry, not trying to be cryptic. Just... things change."
Natasha's eyes fixed on me, and I resisted the urge to fidget under her scrutiny. There was an intensity to her gaze that suggested she was used to reading people, to spotting lies and evasions. Probably came with being a doctor in a place like this—you learned to tell when patients weren't giving you the full story.
Whatever she saw seemed to satisfy something, because she relaxed fractionally. Not trust, not yet, but maybe the beginning of not-active-distrust.
"Why are you here?" she asked finally. "In the Underworld specifically. If you're staying in the Overworld, why come down here?"
"Because we wanted to understand the full situation," Dan Heng said. "The Fragmentum corruption, how it's being handled, what the actual state of things is versus what we're being told."
"And what you're being told is probably that everything is under control and the Underworld is being adequately managed," Natasha said, her tone dry enough to evaporate water.
"Something like that," Stelle agreed.
"Then you're about to learn just how thoroughly that's a lie."
She asked more questions after that—where we came from (vague answers), why we were here (gathering information), how we arrived (technical explanations that clearly went over her head but she accepted anyway). Dan Heng provided answers that were truthful but vague enough to avoid complications, which was apparently a skill he'd perfected over years of practice.
Throughout the conversation, I noticed Natasha kept glancing at my gloved hand. Not obviously, just brief flicks of attention that she probably thought were subtle. Could she tell something was off about it? Or was I just being paranoid?
When March offered to help organize some of the medical supplies scattered across the clinic's storage area, Natasha's suspicion didn't exactly vanish, but it... shifted. Became less hostile and more wary curiosity.
"You don't have to," Natasha said, though her eyes lingered on the disorganized shelves behind her with clear frustration.
"We want to," March replied simply, already moving to help. "Besides, we're not doing anything else right now, and this looks like it needs doing."
Natasha watched March for a moment longer, then seemed to make a decision. "Alright. But if you're going to help, do it properly. Medical supplies have specific storage requirements."
And just like that, we'd found our first foothold in the Underworld.
That first day in the Underworld, we mostly just helped around the clinic. Organizing supplies, moving equipment, even just keeping watch while Natasha treated patients.
Over the next few days, BB became a constant presence, though only I could see her. She'd pop up at random moments, sometimes offering genuine tactical advice, other times just causing minor chaos.
March had thrown herself into organizing the medical supply shelves with surprising enthusiasm, sorting through bandages and medicines with careful attention. I was helping move some heavier equipment when BB suddenly materialized next to me, floating lazily in the air.
*Senpai~ You're being awfully helpful today. Trying to make a good impression?*
I ignored her, focusing on moving a particularly heavy cabinet.
*Oh come on, at least acknowledge me. I'm bored~*
Still ignoring.
*Fine. Be that way.*
She drifted over toward where March was organizing supplies, that mischievous grin spreading across her face. Oh no. I knew that look.
I tried to subtly shake my head at her, but she just winked at me and floated closer to March.
It was during one of these moments, March focused on creating an ice sculpture for a group of children who'd gathered to watch, that BB decided to cause chaos.
She was floating behind March, that grin widening. Her hand reached toward the hem of March's skirt.
I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but what could I say? "Hey March, the invisible AI only I can see is about to flip your skirt"? That would go over well.
BB caught my eye and put a finger to her lips, eyes sparkling with mischief. She was fully tangible to me, solid enough that I could see every detail of her expression, even if no one else could perceive her existence at all.
Then she did it.
The skirt flipped up.
March shrieked, immediately dropping the ice sculpture (which shattered on the ground, making the children cry out in disappointment) and slapping her skirt back down. Her face went bright red as she spun around, looking for the culprit.
"What the hell?!" March shouted, looking around wildly. "Who did that?!"
BB was now floating near the ceiling, laughing silently, clearly delighted with the chaos she'd caused. I gave her the flattest look I could manage.
*What? I'm bored, Senpai~ she said directly into my mind, her voice as clear as if she'd spoken aloud—though of course, only I could hear it.*
The children looked confused. The few adults in the clinic looked equally baffled. Natasha raised an eyebrow.
"Did... something happen?" Stelle asked carefully.
"Someone just—!" March gestured frantically. "My skirt! Someone flipped it!"
Everyone looked around. No one was close enough to have done it. In fact, the nearest person was a good six feet away.
Dan Heng's expression suggested he was calculating the physics of the situation and coming up empty. "That's... not possible."
"Well it HAPPENED!" March insisted, still red-faced and clearly mortified.
BB floated down next to me, grinning. Oh come on, Senpai. That was hilarious. You have to admit it was funny~
I very carefully kept my expression neutral. If I reacted, March would notice, and then I'd have to explain, and that would be a whole thing.
*You're no fun when you're trying to be subtle, BB pouted. Fine, fine. I'll behave. For now~*
That "for now" was not reassuring.
"Maybe it was a draft?" Natasha suggested, though her tone suggested she didn't believe it either.
"Drafts don't flip skirts up that precisely," March muttered, crossing her arms and looking deeply suspicious of everything and everyone.
For the rest of the day, March kept shooting suspicious glances at everyone around her, clearly convinced someone was messing with her but unable to figure out who. I did my best to look innocent, which was difficult with BB floating nearby making faces at me.
You know you want to laugh, Senpai~
I don't.
Liar.
Okay, maybe a little. But I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction.
The patients were varied—Fragmentum injuries were common, but so were things like malnutrition, respiratory issues from the poor air quality, and injuries from mining accidents. Each one painted a picture of a community barely holding on.
One older woman came in with a cough that sounded like it had been developing for months. A young girl had a badly set broken arm that had healed wrong and needed to be re-broken and reset—I had to leave the room for that one, the sound of bone breaking deliberately making my stomach turn. A miner with burns from some kind of chemical exposure.
Natasha handled each case with the same tired competence, but I could see the strain. Too many patients, too few supplies, too many problems that needed solutions she couldn't provide.
When Stelle assisted with a Fragmentum incident near the clinic—a sudden surge that had broken through a weakened barrier—BB's demeanor shifted immediately.
*Senpai, this one's serious. Multiple hostiles, confined space. Your teammates are good but they'll need support.*
Her playful tone was completely gone, replaced by the focused efficiency she showed during actual combat situations. It was a bit jarring, honestly, how quickly she could switch between chaos gremlin and tactical advisor.
The alarm had been sudden—a sharp klaxon that sent everyone in the clinic scrambling. Natasha immediately started directing patients to a back room, her movements calm but urgent.
"What's happening?" March asked, already reaching for her bow.
"Fragmentum breach," Natasha said tersely. "Happens more and more lately. Stay inside if you can't fight, otherwise—"
She didn't get to finish. Stelle was already out the door, bat in hand.
"Well," Dan Heng sighed, "so much for staying low profile."
*He's not wrong, BB commented, floating beside me as we followed. But honestly, staying low profile was never really your strong suit anyway, Senpai~*
Thanks for the vote of confidence.
We followed Stelle outside to find chaos. Fragmentum monsters were pouring through a crack in one of the barriers that separated the inhabited areas from the corrupted zones. The crack was small but growing, crystal formations spreading along its edges like frost on glass.
*Twelve hostiles, mixed types. Barrier integrity at 34% and falling. Your team should prioritize closing the breach over eliminating all enemies—more will just keep coming otherwise.*
Good point. I relayed that to Dan Heng quietly while the others engaged.
"Focus on the breach," I said. "Sorry, but we need to seal it or this won't end."
Dan Heng nodded sharply, already moving. "Cover me."
The monsters were the same types we'd fought before, but here in the confined streets of the Underworld, they seemed more dangerous. Less room to maneuver, more civilians in potential danger.
Stelle was already engaging, her bat work brutal and efficient. Each swing calculated for maximum impact, each movement flowing into the next with practiced ease.
March's arrows flew past, ice coating the monsters and slowing them down. One monster got too close and she switched to using her bow as a melee weapon, the reinforced construction holding up as she cracked it across a Fragmentum creature's crystalline head.
Dan Heng moved toward the breach, but three monsters blocked his path. I intercepted, my lance materializing as I drove them back.
*Left side, Senpai. Two more incoming.*
I pivoted, catching the new arrivals with a sweep of ice. BB's tactical callouts were invaluable in the chaos—she could see the whole battlefield while I was focused on immediate threats.
*Breach is destabilizing faster. Dan Heng needs ten seconds uninterrupted.*
"Cover Dan Heng!" I shouted to the others.
We formed a rough perimeter, keeping the monsters away while Dan Heng worked. His spear moved in precise patterns, some kind of technique that wove energy through the air. The breach started to close, crystal growth slowing.
*Five seconds. Three more hostiles coming from the left passage.*
I moved to intercept, driving them back with a blast of ice. My arm ached—the frozen one, responding to extended use of my abilities in a way that felt wrong but functional.
*Breach sealed. Remaining hostiles: seven. Team status: all green, minimal injuries.*
The fight ended quickly after that. Without reinforcements coming through the breach, we mopped up the remaining monsters efficiently.
It took maybe ten minutes total, and another five for Dan Heng to properly seal the breach with some kind of compound Natasha provided.
*Not bad, Senpai. You're getting better at following tactical advice~*
Was that a compliment?
*Don't let it go to your head.*
Too late.
Natasha watched the whole thing from the clinic doorway, her expression unreadable. But when we came back, something in her demeanor had changed.
She'd seen us fight. Seen how efficiently we handled the threat. Seen that we weren't just outsiders playing at being helpful—we actually knew what we were doing.
"That was..." she started, then seemed to search for words. "Professional. Military grade combat coordination."
*She's not wrong, BB commented, now lounging in the air like it was a hammock. Though I'd say you're more 'talented amateurs who got really good really fast' than actual military.*
Not helping, BB.
*Wasn't trying to help~*
"We've had practice," Stelle said simply, wiping Fragmentum residue off her bat.
Like the time she moved a medical supply just as Natasha reached for it, making the doctor question her own memory of where she'd placed things.
*Senpai, you have to admit that was funny.*
That was mean.
*Tomato, tomahto~*
Or when she'd float behind Dan Heng making faces, clearly trying to get me to laugh during serious conversations.
*He's so serious all the time. Someone needs to lighten the mood.*
That someone doesn't have to be you.
*But I'm so good at it~*
The worst was when she started narrating people's thoughts in dramatic voice-over style.
*"Dan Heng contemplates the futility of existence while organizing medical gauze. Truly, he is a man of depth and mystery."*
Stop it.
*"March wonders if that cute doctor from yesterday will be back. Also, she's still suspicious about the skirt incident."*
BB, I swear—
*"Stelle considers whether hitting things with a bat counts as a valid life philosophy. Spoiler alert: it does."*
I'm going to find a way to mute you.
*You can't mute perfection, Senpai~*
But she also had her serious moments. When we encountered particularly dangerous Fragmentum, she'd drop the playful act entirely and provide real-time tactical analysis.
*Senpai, that one has a weak point at the base of the neck. Your ice should be able to exploit it.*
When I was working with damaged equipment, she'd highlight structural weaknesses I wouldn't have noticed.
*That support beam is compromised. Move the patients before it collapses.*
And occasionally, during quiet moments, she'd just... hover nearby. Not commenting, not causing chaos. Just there.
*You're doing good work here, Senpai. These people need help, and you're providing it. That matters.*
...Thanks, BB.
*Don't get sappy on me. I have a reputation to maintain~*
March seemed to take to the work naturally, her warmth and genuine desire to help putting patients at ease. I caught her more than once sitting with a frightened child, using her ice abilities to create small sculptures to distract them while Natasha worked. Little animals, flowers, abstract shapes that caught the dim light and sparkled.
The children loved it. One girl asked if March could make her a dragon, and March spent twenty minutes crafting an elaborate ice sculpture complete with wings and scales. The girl's delighted laughter was probably the brightest sound I'd heard in the Underworld so far.
*That's actually really sweet,* BB commented, watching the scene. *March is good with kids.*
Yeah, she is.
*Don't tell her I said that. I have standards to maintain.*
She doesn't even know you exist.
Stelle was less comfortable with the medical side of things but threw herself into the physical labor—moving supplies, reinforcing barriers, even helping with repairs around the clinic. She had a practical competence that showed in everything she did, the kind of person who just got things done without complaint.
Dan Heng and I took turns keeping watch and gathering information from those who came through the clinic. It was surprising how much people would talk while waiting for treatment, especially once they got used to seeing us around.
*People always talk more when they think they're in safe spaces,* BB observed. *The clinic represents safety, so they let their guards down. Basic psychology, Senpai~*
Useful to know.
*I'm full of useful information. You should listen to me more often~*
I listen to you plenty.
*Then why don't you laugh at my jokes?*
Because they're usually at someone else's expense.
*That's what makes them funny~*
We then learn about 'Wildfire' an organization led by a former Silvermane guard. The name came up repeatedly, always spoken with a mixture of respect and caution.
"They're the real leaders down here," one elderly patient told us while Natasha treated his respiratory issues. "Natasha keeps us alive, but Wildfire keeps us safe."
*Interesting power dynamic,* BB mused. *Medical authority versus military authority, but they're cooperating rather than competing. Unusual in resource-scarce environments.*
You know a lot about this stuff.
*I'm a highly advanced AI, Senpai. I know lots of things~*
"Safe from what?" I asked the patient, genuinely curious.
"From everything. Fragmentum, mostly. But also from the Overworld when they decide to remember we exist."
The bitterness in his tone was impossible to miss.
*Deep-seated resentment toward the upper class,* BB analyzed. *Classic divided society dynamics. This place is a powder keg, Senpai.*
Great.
Just thought you should know~
We also meet a member, Seele, who was quite uninviting since she dislikes the 'Overworlders'.
She showed up at the clinic one evening, kicking the door open with more force than necessary.
*Ooh, dramatic entrance~ I like her already,* BB commented.
"Natasha, we've got incoming Fragmentum at the eastern barrier—"
She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes locking onto us. Her hand went immediately to her weapon, a scythe that materialized with practiced ease.
*Hostile body language, elevated threat assessment, weapon summoned preemptively. She's trained and paranoid. Probably with good reason down here.*
"Who the hell are they?"
Her hostility was immediate and palpable.
"They're helping," Natasha said calmly, not even looking up from the inventory she was taking. "And they've probably saved a dozen lives this week, so put the scythe away, Seele."
Seele didn't lower her weapon. "Overworlders?"
"Outsiders," Dan Heng corrected, his tone carefully neutral. "We're not from Belobog at all."
She doesn't believe you, BB observed. Her grip tightened on that scythe. She's considering whether you're lying or if being actual outsiders makes you more dangerous.
If anything, that seemed to make Seele more suspicious rather than less. Her eyes narrowed, scanning each of us like she was cataloging threats.
"I don't care where you're from," Seele said flatly. "You're here now, which means you're either with us or you're in the way."
*Aggressive tribal mentality. Us versus them. She's going to be difficult to win over, Senpai~*
"We're trying to help," March said, her voice gentle but firm.
Seele leaned against a wall, finally letting her scythe rest against her shoulder as she wiped Fragmentum residue from the blade with a rag that had seen better days.
Her laugh was sharp, humorless. "Help. Right. That's what they all say." She turned back to Natasha, dismissing us entirely. "Eastern barrier. Twenty minutes, maybe less. We need everyone who can fight."
"Go," Natasha said to us, her tone making it clear this wasn't a request. "If you really want to help, prove it."
*Well, Senpai~ Time to make a good impression. Try not to die~*
Thanks for the encouragement.
*What are AIs for?*
The fight at the eastern barrier was brutal. The Fragmentum came in waves, more organized than the scattered monsters we'd encountered before.
Twelve hostiles confirmed, Senpai. Three more signatures incoming from the north passage. This is a coordinated assault—unusual for Fragmentum.
Seele fought like someone who'd been doing this her entire life, her movements efficient and deadly. The scythe moved like an extension of her body, each strike precise and lethal. She carved through Fragmentum monsters with practiced ease, never wasting motion, never hesitating.
She's good. Really good. Military-grade training combined with years of practical experience. Don't get in her way, Senpai.
Wasn't planning on it.
We fell into formation naturally—March providing covering fire from elevated positions, her arrows finding weak points with frightening accuracy. Stelle charged in with her usual reckless confidence, bat swinging with brutal efficiency. Dan Heng moved like water, his spear finding gaps in defenses that shouldn't exist.
And I... did my best to keep up.
Left flank, three incoming. Medium threat level.
I pivoted, intercepting them with a sweep of ice. My frozen arm responded smoothly now, the crystalline structure having integrated enough that movement felt natural. Almost.
Don't get comfortable with that arm, Senpai. It's still healing. Overextension could cause permanent damage.
Noted.
Seele noticed me fighting and her expression shifted—not quite approval, but less active hostility. She still didn't trust us, but watching us actually handle ourselves seemed to at least prove we weren't completely useless.
Progress! She's only glaring at you with 'moderate suspicion' instead of 'planning your murder.' That's improvement~
Your standards are concerningly low.
I work with what I have, Senpai~
The eastern barrier held, barely. By the time we'd cleared the last of the Fragmentum and reinforced the weakened sections, everyone was exhausted. Seele leaned against a wall, wiping Fragmentum residue from her scythe with a rag that had seen better days.
"You're not completely useless," she said finally, which I suspected was the closest thing to a compliment we were going to get.
See? She likes you~
She definitely doesn't like us.
Not yet, but give it time. You're growing on her like a fungus~
That's a terrible analogy.
But accurate~
Over the following days, we encountered Seele repeatedly. She never warmed up to us, not really, but the active hostility faded into something more like grudging acceptance.
March seemed determined to win her over through sheer persistence, striking up conversations whenever Seele appeared at the clinic. Most of these conversations were decidedly one-sided, with March talking cheerfully while Seele responded in monosyllables.
"So where did you learn to fight like that?" March asked one day, her tone genuinely curious rather than prying.
"Practice," Seele replied curtly.
"That's so cool! How long have you been with Wildfire?"
"Long enough."
"Do you—"
"Don't you have supplies to organize?"
She's trying so hard, BB commented, floating upside down next to me. It's almost adorable. Like watching a puppy try to befriend a wolf.
March isn't a puppy.
Metaphorically speaking, Senpai. Keep up~
But there were moments when Seele's guard would slip, just slightly. When March created an ice sculpture for a group of children and one of them ran up to show Seele, the scythe-wielder's expression softened almost imperceptibly before snapping back to her usual scowl.
She has a soft spot for kids, BB observed. File that away for future reference, Senpai.
Stelle took a different approach, simply proving herself through action. When Seele mentioned a Fragmentum nest that Wildfire was planning to clear out, Stelle immediately volunteered.
"You don't know what you're signing up for," Seele warned.
"Then tell me," Stelle replied simply.
The mission was dangerous, deep in contaminated territory where the Fragmentum corruption was thick enough to make breathing difficult. The nest was larger than expected, with multiple elite-class monsters that required serious coordination to take down.
This is bad, Senpai. Really bad. Multiple high-threat targets in a confined space with limited retreat options.
We survived though. Barely. Stelle took a hit that would have killed most people—a Fragmentum monster's claws raking across her side, leaving deep gashes that bled freely. She kept fighting anyway, bat never stopping, refusing to fall back until the nest was cleared.
She's either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, BB commented as we fought. Possibly both.
Definitely both.
Seele noticed. After the fight, as Natasha was stitching up Stelle's side, Seele actually spoke without being prompted.
"You fight well," she said quietly. "Better than I expected."
HIGH PRAISE from Seele! Mark this day, Senpai! She actually complimented someone!
Stelle just grinned through the pain. "Thanks. You're not so bad yourself."
Seele's lips twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile before she turned and left.
Progress! BB cheered silently. At this rate, she might actually trust you in only... oh, six months or so~
Your optimism is inspiring.
I try~
Dan Heng and I remained the least trusted, probably because we asked the most questions and were the most obviously observant. Seele caught me studying the barrier layout one day, her eyes narrowing immediately.
"What are you looking at?"
"The barrier structure," I replied honestly. "Sorry, didn't mean to be intrusive. It's just impressive how well maintained it is given the resource constraints."
She stared at me for a long moment, clearly trying to determine if I was being genuine or mocking.
She's running threat assessment calculations in her head right now. Trying to figure out if you're a spy, an idiot, or genuinely impressed.
Which do you think she'll conclude?
Probably 'suspicious idiot.' It's kind of your brand, Senpai~
Thanks.
Finally Seele just shook her head and walked away, muttering something uncomplimentary under her breath that I absolutely heard but chose to ignore.
She called you a 'weird Overworld creep,' by the way.
I figured.
Just wanted to make sure you knew~
It was during one of our trips deeper into the Underworld, following rumors of an area even Wildfire avoided, that BB's demeanor shifted dramatically.
Senpai. Stop.
I froze mid-step. BB never used that tone unless something was seriously wrong.
Massive energy signature ahead. Unknown classification. Recommend extreme caution.
What kind of signature?
Mechanical. Advanced. Definitely not Fragmentum. Also, there's a child's biosignature in close proximity.
A child? Out here?
Affirmative. Proceed carefully, Senpai.
The Rivet Town area was more isolated, the Fragmentum corruption even worse than elsewhere. Abandoned buildings loomed in the dim light, their structures barely standing. We'd come investigating reports of unusual activity—machines moving on their own, strange lights in the abandoned sectors.
What we found was a massive robot standing guard over what looked like a makeshift workshop, and a small girl with silver-white hair who couldn't have been more than ten years old.
That's Svarog, BB said immediately. Legacy-class defense automaton. Extremely dangerous if provoked. The girl is Clara. Orphan, adopted by the robot. Unusual situation, Senpai.
How do you know all this?
I have access to Belobog's fragmented databases. This robot has been active for over three hundred years. He's a relic from before the Eternal Freeze.
The robot—Svarog—immediately targeted us as potential threats. Red optical sensors focused on us with uncomfortable intensity, and I could hear mechanical systems powering up.
"Intruders detected. State your purpose."
The voice was mechanical, precise, and utterly without inflection. Several weapon systems became visible on Svarog's frame, tracking our movements.
Don't make any sudden moves, Senpai. Svarog's threat assessment protocols are extremely thorough. One wrong move and he'll classify you as hostile.
"We're not here to cause trouble," Dan Heng said carefully, his spear remaining sheathed but ready. "Sorry for the intrusion."
"Your statement requires verification. Clara, maintain safe distance."
The small girl peeked out from behind Svarog's leg, her red eyes curious but cautious. "Are they bad people, Mr. Svarog?"
Oh my god she's adorable, BB cooed. Look at her little face! Senpai, you have to befriend her!
I'm trying not to get shot by the giant robot first.
Details, details~
"Assessment incomplete. Probability of hostile intent: forty-three percent."
That's actually not terrible, BB noted. He usually starts at sixty-five percent for unknown contacts.
I couldn't help but notice that forty-three percent was still uncomfortably high. Stelle seemed to notice too, her hand moving subtly toward her bat.
Don't let Stelle escalate, Senpai. If she pulls that bat, Svarog's threat assessment will spike immediately.
March, however, took a different approach. She lowered her bow entirely, dismissing it with a shimmer of light, and smiled warmly at the girl. "Hi! I'm March. We're just exploring. We didn't mean to intrude."
Good move, March! Non-threatening body language, direct engagement with the child. That'll help with Svarog's assessment.
Clara looked uncertain, glancing up at Svarog as if for permission. The robot remained still for a long moment, whatever computational processes it was running invisible to us.
"Analysis suggests low immediate threat," Svarog finally stated. "Conditional interaction permitted. Clara, maintain protocol seven."
Protocol seven is 'stay within protective range but engage socially,' BB translated. He's giving her permission to talk to you.
"Okay, Mr. Svarog." Clara stepped out a bit more, though she stayed close to the robot. "I'm Clara. This is Mr. Svarog. He takes care of me."
Over the next hour, we learned that Clara lived here in Rivet Town with Svarog, the robot having apparently taken on the role of guardian after Clara's parents had died. Svarog maintained the old automated systems in this section of the Underworld, keeping them running despite the Fragmentum corruption and lack of outside support.
"Mr. Svarog is really smart," Clara said with obvious pride. "He can fix anything!"
"Unit designation Svarog operates within designed parameters," the robot stated. "Maintenance of infrastructure is primary function. Clara's well-being is... additional priority."
Did that robot just hesitate? BB sounded surprised. That's emotion bleeding through logic protocols. Fascinating. He actually cares about her, Senpai.
That's... actually kind of sweet?
Don't let the death machine hear you say that~
There was damage to one of the water filtration systems that even Svarog had been struggling with due to lack of parts. Dan Heng, surprisingly, had some mechanical knowledge that proved useful.
"Where did you learn this?" I asked quietly as he worked, his hands moving with practiced efficiency through complex machinery.
"Necessary skill for long-term space travel," he replied without looking up. "Sorry, but equipment breaks. You either learn to fix it or die."
Cheerful as always, Dan Heng~ BB commented. But he's not wrong. And look, he's actually being helpful!
Svarog observed Dan Heng's work with what might have been interest, his optical sensors tracking each movement.
"Repair methodology demonstrates advanced mechanical comprehension," Svarog stated. "Query: origin of training?"
"Self-taught, mostly," Dan Heng said. "Trial and error over several years."
"Acceptable answer. Revised threat assessment: twenty-two percent."
You're making progress, Senpai! He only thinks you're mildly suspicious now instead of probably dangerous~
It's the little victories.
Clara warmed up to us quickly, especially to March, who created small ice sculptures for her—animals, flowers, abstract shapes that caught the dim light and sparkled.
"Can you make a dragon?" Clara asked, her eyes wide with wonder.
"Of course!" March spent the next twenty minutes crafting an elaborate ice sculpture complete with wings and scales, her focus intense as she worked. The result was honestly impressive—the dragon looked almost alive, frozen mid-flight with crystalline wings spread wide.
Clara's delighted laughter echoed through the workshop, and even Svarog's optical sensors seemed to brighten slightly.
"Artistic skill level: advanced," Svarog observed. "Clara's emotional response: positive. Assessment updated: current visitors demonstrate low hostility probability."
He's warming up to you! Well, as much as a robot programmed to be paranoid can warm up to anyone~
Even Svarog seemed to recalibrate his threat assessment by the time we left, the probability of hostile intent dropping to single digits.
"You may return," Svarog stated as we prepared to leave. "Clara's social development benefits from positive interactions with non-hostile entities."
That's robot-speak for 'my daughter likes you, you can come back,' BB translated gleefully.
"We will," March promised, waving to Clara enthusiastically. "I'll make you more sculptures next time!"
"Really?" Clara's face lit up. "Mr. Svarog, they'll come back!"
"Affirmative. Visitor return probability: seventy-eight percent based on observed behavioral patterns."
He's gotten pretty good at reading people, BB noted. Three hundred years of observation will do that.
The encounter with Clara and Svarog added another dimension to our understanding of the Underworld. It wasn't just about the political tensions or the Fragmentum threat—there were people, families of a sort, trying to survive and maintain some semblance of normal life in impossible circumstances.
That's what makes places like this worth fighting for, Senpai, BB said quietly as we made our way back toward the more populated areas. Not the grand political struggles or the big heroic moments. The small lives, the kids who just want to see ice sculptures and have someone to talk to.
...Yeah. You're right.
Of course I'm right. I'm always right~
And the moment's ruined.
Can't let you get too sentimental, Senpai. You'll get soft~
The first time we tried to return to the Overworld after several days in the depths, we found the passage significantly more guarded than before.
Uh oh. Senpai, security has increased substantially. Multiple checkpoints, armed guards, the works. Someone's definitely tightening control.
Where there had been casual observation before, now there were official checkpoints. Guards in full Silvermane uniform, checking papers and questioning travelers with aggressive thoroughness.
"Identification," one guard demanded as we approached, his hand resting on his weapon in a way that was clearly meant to be noticed.
Dan Heng provided the temporary papers Bronya had issued us. The guard studied them for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Too long. He was making a point.
"You've been spending a lot of time below," he observed. It wasn't quite an accusation, but it wasn't friendly either.
He's fishing for information. Careful how you respond, Senpai.
"We go where we're needed," Stelle replied flatly, her tone making it clear she wasn't intimidated.
The guard's eyes narrowed, but he ultimately waved us through. "Don't cause trouble."
Translation: 'we're watching you,' BB supplied helpfully.
Thanks, I figured that out.
Just making sure~
Back in the Overworld, the contrast was jarring. Clean streets, functioning infrastructure, people who didn't look like they were one disaster away from collapse. The guilt of it sat uncomfortably in my chest, a weight that hadn't been there before.
It's easier when you don't see both sides, isn't it? BB said softly. When the people suffering are abstract, theoretical. But now you've met them. Talked to them. Helped them. And you can't unsee that.
No. No I can't.
"It's not fair," March said quietly as we walked through the administrative district. She didn't need to elaborate—we were all thinking the same thing. The disparity was too stark, too deliberate to be anything but policy.
"It's not," Dan Heng agreed, his voice carefully neutral but his eyes hard. "But fairness rarely factors into survival politics."
Cynical but accurate, BB commented. Though for what it's worth, Senpai, you're doing more than most people would. That counts for something.
Does it though? We're just... helping at a clinic. Fixing a few things. Fighting some Fragmentum. Is that really making a difference?
To the people you've helped? Yes. Absolutely. You've saved lives, Senpai. Don't discount that.
===================
Author: Also please leave some comments, like what were the best chapters so far, what can i improve, is there anything you liked/disliked about the story so far etc.
One last thing I ask, what do you think Aha would do to mess with the story?