Chapter 8
The wind is cold, but not sharp. It brushes against Ark's face as he walks along the edge of a cliff, staring at the open sky ahead. Far in the distance, he sees something strange — a thin line of light stretching between floating islands.
It hums faintly, glowing blue against the clouds.
He squints. "That's either a bridge, or the world's most expensive fishing line."
As he watches, a streak of light moves across it — fast, smooth, like lightning trapped in a tunnel. It glows brighter for a few seconds, then fades into the horizon.
A train.
At least, that's what it looks like. Long, metal, and alive with magic.
Ark's eyes widen. He hasn't seen anything like it since arriving in this world — not ruins, not weapons, not even the broken city came close. This is something new. Something built.
He starts walking toward it without thinking.
The trail winds along the cliffside, leading to a wide stretch of stone. The path is clean, smoother than the old roads in the ruined city. Ahead, a large structure rises — a station made of white stone and glowing symbols.
People are gathered there.
Ark slows his pace. His first thought is caution; the last crowd he saw tried to kill him. But these people aren't fighting — they're waiting.
He hides behind a broken sign and observes.
They come in all shapes and sizes — tall, short, human, and not so human. He sees a man with small horns, a woman with green skin, and a short man carrying a hammer twice his size. Others have wings or tails.
Different races. Different worlds, maybe.
Ark exhales quietly. "Well… at least I'm not the weirdest-looking one this time."
He adjusts his coat and walks toward the group, trying to blend in. The air feels warmer near the station, charged with the same hum that runs through the glowing track above.
The closer he gets, the more detail he sees — the walls of the station are carved with symbols that shift faintly, pulsing like veins of light. The ground vibrates softly beneath his boots.
Inside, a line of people waits before a wide counter. Behind it, a woman with long silver hair and pointed ears moves gracefully, handling what looks like glowing stones. Her calm face and sharp features remind him of elves from the stories he used to read.
Ark steps into line, hands tucked into his pockets. He listens to the sounds — the hum of magic, the murmur of strange languages, the low rumble of an engine somewhere above.
When it's his turn, the elf woman looks up. Her eyes are pale violet, clear and unreadable.
"Destination?" she asks.
Ark blinks. "Uh… the biggest one you have?"
She tilts her head slightly, like she's used to people not knowing what they're doing. "MetroCenter. Capital city of the eastern skylands."
"Yeah," he says. "That sounds like a good place to… not die."
"Payment is required before boarding."
Ark nods, already expecting trouble. "You take coins, or…?"
"Mana," she replies flatly. "From card, crystal, or direct transfer."
He hesitates. "So… I can pay with myself?"
Her lips twitch — not quite a smile. "If you have enough."
She slides a small stone slab across the counter. Its surface glows faint gray.
Ark sighs, placing his palm against it. A cold feeling spreads up his arm, and the glow brightens.
[Mana Payment: -50 MP]
[Remaining MP: 60]
When the glow fades, the slab turns blue for a moment before dimming again. The clerk takes it back and hands him a small, clear stone — smooth, round, and faintly cold.
"Your ticket," she says.
Ark turns it over in his hand. It looks more like crystal than paper, yet words float faintly inside it: MetroCenter – Car B, Seat 12.
He tucks it into his coat pocket. "So that's it?"
"Follow the light," she says simply, pointing to the glowing archway behind her.
Ark steps toward it. As he passes through, his skin tingles. The air changes — lighter, cleaner, almost electric. When he opens his eyes, he's standing on a platform made of glass and metal.
The train waits before him.
It's long and sleek, its surface reflecting the sky. Blue energy runs through its sides like rivers of light. The doors open with a quiet hiss, and warm air spills out.
He steps inside.
The walls are white with soft yellow light glowing from the edges. The floor is dark red, smooth, and soft beneath his boots. The scent of flowers lingers faintly in the air — clean and gentle, so unlike the smoke and dust of the ruined city.
Ark walks slowly down the aisle. Elves, dwarves, demons, and other beings fill the seats. Some talk quietly, others read glowing papers, or rest with eyes closed.
He finds his compartment — Car B, Seat 12 — and steps inside. Four other passengers are there: a tiger-eared woman with golden eyes, a red-skinned man with one horn, a green-haired elf reading a paper, and a dwarf polishing his weapon.
They glance at him, then look away. No one speaks.
Ark sits near the window, resting his back against the seat. Outside, the sky stretches endlessly.
A soft hum runs through the floor. The train begins to move.
The station slides away, replaced by the open horizon. The rail beneath them glows brighter as they gain speed, a ribbon of light slicing through clouds.
Ark leans against the window, watching islands drift below — forests, rivers, small towns glowing faintly in the mist. The light from the train reflects in his eyes.
For the first time since he arrived in this world, there's no fight. No chase. No danger. Just the sound of motion, smooth and steady.
He exhales slowly, almost smiling. "A train in the sky," he murmurs. "Alright… I guess I can live with that."
The world outside fades into shades of gold and blue as the train carries him forward — to MetroCenter, and whatever waits there next.