Chapter 169: Book 3: Collisions
The Empty City is no longer empty. It is, in fact, the closest thing to a bustling metropolis I've seen since I was ripped away from Earth—more so than even Isthanok and its busy streets. Without all the decay eating away at the city, I can see how many of these buildings are in fact skyscrapers. What I'd assumed were the roofs of individual buildings were in fact just one of many floors, the top levels having apparently been scoured away by time and broken Firmament.
It's a beautiful place, which only makes knowing what happened to it that much worse.
None of the people here seem aware of what's to come, though. I watch as they go about their lives—just like the Tear I went to earlier, it's clear that these are simulations of Firmament, but at the same time they're far more real than anything originally generated by the Tear. They feel like...
They feel like Gheraa. Like the copy of himself he'd left within me—technically alive, a snapshot of his personhood at a moment in time. I take a moment to feel for that seed of him still cradled somewhere within my core; it pulses with a surprising warmth as my Firmament brushes against it, although it's otherwise quiet.
If nothing else, this tells me that I'm probably on the right path. Even if I don't know how to feel about the dungeon generating what appears to be fully sapient life.
I watch for a moment as they go about their lives. None of them seem to notice us. They're a species of... scarab-dragonfly hybrids, as best as I can tell? Humanoid in form, bodies naturally armored in colored chitin, and wearing clothes made of layers of semitransparent, flowing cloth woven together like robes and dresses.
"Oooh," Ahkelios says. "That's smart."
I glance at him. "What is?"
"Their clothes!" He points at a passing person who, thankfully, either doesn't notice or chooses to ignore us. "I've tried wearing cloth before. It usually catches and tears on my exoskeleton."