Chapter 28 | Gate

Leon stared out the window, his eyes tracing the curve of the transit line as it arched skyward, a silver thread climbing into the light. The Upper Level unfolded above them, suspended terraces that shimmered like a mirage against the sky. Just days ago, that world had been unreachable. 

The docking platforms floated on supports of translucent crystals, each one slender as bone and spun from glass. Sunlight refracted through them in subtle rainbows that shimmered across the underside of the platforms, painting the air with shifting light. It should have looked fragile, but nothing wavered.

Unlike the rusted, grease-streaked bays of the Lower Levels, these docks felt like aerial sanctuaries. Curved walkways stretched in wide arcs, bordered by living railings made of pale green and indigo vines. Luminous blue blossoms pulsed, almost like breathing, casting a soft glow that made the air around them feel alive.

The platform floor was a mosaic of smooth, iridescent tiles, cool-toned and glistening as though freshly washed. With every angle of sunlight, the tiles changed color with muted golds and silvers giving way to blues and greens that seemed to ripple.

Passengers stood in small groups wearing garments made of intelligent fabric that shimmered with movement. Sleeves fluttered like silk in an invisible breeze even though the air remained still. 

Leon noticed thin blue lines pulsing beneath the fabric, mana conduits flowing through their enhanced bodies as natural as breathing.

Along the platform's edges, water moved through sculpted channels. At regular intervals, jets arced upward in smooth, symmetrical loops before returning to the stream below. Each arc caught the light, scattering it into soft, shimmering prisms.

There was no roar of arrival. Only a soft harmonic chime of the seamless deceleration as the transit slowed.

Leon found himself holding his breath, not from fear, but from disbelief. This wasn't just another level of the city, it was a different world. 

It's beautiful, thought Leon.

He exhaled and turned away from the window, catching Nyra's gaze fixed on him. Her expression was complex with jaws tight and eyes distant.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," She replied with a calm tone, but the edge in her voice told a different story, part curiosity, part warning. Her eyes drifted around the transit car as if uninterested. "It's just been a while since I've been up here. They've renovated."

"You seem…uncomfortable," Leon said.

Nyra's mouth twisted into a half-smile that didn't reach her eyes. 

"The higher you go, the thinner the air gets," she said quietly. "People up here don't breathe the same way we do."

Before he could ask what she meant, the doors at the far end of their transit compartment slid open.

The Warcenturion stepped in.

Conversations died instantly. Every recruit and stationed guard rose to attention. The two guards in the compartment moved toward him in seamless coordination, taking up positions on either side.

"We will be heading directly to the space dock and boarding the ship," the Warcenturion announced.

Space? Ship?

The words caused Leon’s mind to freeze. In the Lower Levels, orbital stations, ships, and other planets were distant lights that occasionally crossed the night sky. 

Space was for augmented elites, explorers and pioneers. The ones who went beyond the world's edge to chase resources on distant hostile planets.

Nullari individuals like him–or rather what he used to be–didn't go to space. Not unless it was to mine, to repair, or to die. 

He looked at Nyra. She didn’t seem surprised. 

"The space cruiser is already waiting for us in orbit with the rest of the Elite Track," the Warcenturion added, as though speaking of a shuttle between cities rather than a planetary boundary. 

Without another word, he turned and exited the transit vehicle.

"Move, recruits," barked one of the guards.

The two ahead of Leon rose and stepped out first followed by Nyra. 

"Don't stare at anything too long. They hate that," she whispered to Leon.

He hesitated for a heartbeat before rising. His heart hammered against his ribs, not from fear but from a dizzying sense of displacement. Just a week ago, he’d been scrounging for food in the Lower Levels, dodging enforcers and debt collectors. Now he was about to leave the planet entirely.

As he moved toward the exit, he could feel the weight of the guards behind him, eyes locked on every movement, every hesitation.

Outside the transit, the station unfolded in dazzling detail. Suspended walkways, clear floors, and soaring glass-and-gold archways shimmered in the filtered sunlight. Fulgari citizens moved gracefully through the space, their clothes flowing and their eyes fixed straight ahead. No one gave the group a second glance.

Leon noticed how different mana was used here. In the Mid-levels, the few augmented individuals let their power show with bold displays. Here, mana flowed quietly through the citizens, nearly invisible. Their CRIs and nanites worked in perfect sync, enhancing them without drawing attention.

He slowed, trying to take it all in. This place felt so far removed from the grime and chaos of the Lower Levels that it barely seemed real.

A firm pressure pressed between his shoulder blades.

"Keep moving," one of the guards said, giving him a light push forward.

Leon nodded, eyes snapping forward. The Warcenturion was already several paces ahead. 

He picked up his pace, falling in beside Nyra.

"You've been here before?" he asked quietly.

She kept her eyes forward. 

"Only a few times. My family used to have slightly better standing." Her voice was calm and controlled, giving nothing away, but her fingers twitched at her sides.

"What's it like? Space?" he asked.

A flicker of something crossed her face. 

"Beautiful and terrifying," she glanced at him. "You'll either love it or you'll spend the whole time sick to your stomach. There's no in-between."

The group arrived at the far end of the station, approaching a dock framed by archways. Stationed before the entrance, four guards stood motionless; intimidating and unmistakably Fulgari.

Each wore full-body armor forged from a radiant white alloy with a smooth, glass-like finish. It caught the ambient light in soft halos, reflecting the surroundings with clarity. The plating wasn't bulky. It was sculpted, high-tech, and ceremonial in design, evoking both reverence and power.

Beneath the segmented plates, a light gray nanite-weave undersuit. Faint blue lines pulsed between the armor seams, mana conduits flowing like veins.

Gold accents traced along the edges of the armor. Sharp, angular designs flowing across the joints, curling around the limbs, back, and torso.

Their helmets featured angular, hawk-like silhouettes, the visors sloping downward in an aggressive curve. A soft blue glow emanated from within, casting a faint light Leon could see from across the platform and hinting at deeply integrated sensory tech.

Each guard held a long spear in one hand. The shaft combined white alloy with glowing blue core lines that shimmered like starlight. The tapered crystal tips hummed with stored energy. Tower shields were magnetically attached to their backs.

I admit. Those are pretty cool, thought Leon.

These were the armors depicted in the propaganda of the Imperial Army. The gleaming protectors, the elite warriors. Seeing them in person made the cheap posters that peeled from Lower Level walls seem even more pathetic.

As the group got a few feet from the armored guards, the closest one stepped forward, halting them with a raised hand.

The Warcenturion stayed silent, his presence alone commanding authority. He stood still with hands clasped behind his back, radiating a calm that showed absolute confidence, as if nothing could block his way.

The guard shifted his gaze to the Warcenturion. The pale glow of his visor flickered. Then he slowly scanned the group, studying each face without a word.

Leon tensed. 

A familiar chill ran down his spine, an instinct from years in the Lower Levels where being watched usually meant trouble. He forced himself to stay still, hating how his body still reacted despite the nanites in his system.

Next to him, Nyra stood calm and steady, her posture neither submissive nor defiant, just confident, like she belonged there.

"First time through Elite security?" she whispered, barely moving her lips.

"Is it that obvious?" he replied just as quiet.

"Only to me. Remember, we're supposed to be here. Act like it."

The guard looked back at the Warcenturion. A moment passed, long enough for Leon to count his own heartbeats. Then, without moving from his stance, the guard tapped his chest with the spear he held: a sharp salute, fist to heart, the armor ringing. The spear stood straight up.

He stepped aside, clearing the way.

The gateway opened smoothly, like curtains parting. No alarms, no words, just the quiet sign that they had been seen and this time, allowed through.

As they passed through, Leon felt this was more than just a checkpoint. It was a boundary between two worlds, the one he knew and one he couldn’t even imagine. 

Whatever awaited beyond Eden’s atmosphere would decide if he truly belonged in the Elite Track or if he was just another stray from the Lower Levels who had wandered too far from home.

The space beyond beckoned, silent and vast.