Antwan and Mia had taken up poCityons in her control room, tea in hand, ready to watch this reality show from hell. Her libérica coffee was freshly brewed. Their expectations? Sky-high.
- Kinda turning into a vlog, huh? — I said nervously, licking my dry
- By the way, how are you even planning to see what happens out there? Nothing works past the Wall!
- Don’t worry about that, - Mia’s voice murmured in my head — silky, intrusive, and extremely unwelcome. I flinched. I wasn’t used to hearing her inner voice inside my inner voice.
- Your visual feed is jacked straight into your Technically, we are part of you now.-
- Not the worst attachment I’ve ever picked
-We’re linked, Ali, - Antwan chimed in, more direct, more Antwan. -We’ll help however we can. But first — what do you actually know about the
Wall and what’s behind it?-
- Not much… — I
Even the Great Wall of China and Berlin’s concrete legacy would’ve looked like Lego fences next to this beast. But it wasn’t about the size (yeah, yeah, insert joke here). The Wall wasn’t built by peasants with dreams. This thing was made by Technocracy — the ultra-tech elite that built City itself.
Humanity — or at least, the lucky sliver that made it into the city — thought they’d finally made it. A new age. No more plagues, no more burned capitals. Just a bright synthetic sun, clean streets, and citizens pretending trauma never happened.
Then came the real fun.
In a flash, a giant chunk of City got swallowed up like some giant licked it off the map with a tongue soaked in black syrup.
Buildings? Gone.
Animals? Gone. People? Gone.
And anyone dumb enough to investigate? Also… gone.
It wasn’t just shadow. It was pure, humming nonexistence. But it stopped. Just… paused. Stayed where it was like a living fog monster on a smoke break.
The rest of the city panicked. They screamed for officials to do something. So the remaining braintrust launched Project: Wall. Nobody wanted to go near the void, so they sent drones.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
3D-printers churned out steel slabs like candy. The bots grabbed them, flew to the edge, built layer upon layer until a colossal barrier rose up like a mechanical Babylon. Did it work? Kinda. Did it stop the monsters? Not totally. But at least no humans had to touch the abyss.
No one came here except law enforcement — poor bastards on patrol duty
- and Oh, and cultists. Can’t forget the robed weirdos. But I didn’t
take them seriously. I mean, they wore bathrobes in public. Still… would the Obscurity take me seriously?
I sighed. Heavy. The kind of sigh you give when you know the boss music is about to start.
Without fanfare, I fired a grappling line up the sheer face of the Wall and pulled myself to the top. My boots landed soundlessly on the parapet. I straightened up, expecting… something. Drones? Lights? A warning voice yelling:
- TURN AROUND FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY!
Nothing. Not even a passive-aggressive pigeon.
No one wanted to touch this place — not even the cops. I was truly alone. So what did I see?
Nothing.
Literally.
You can’t see the Dark Sensors don’t register it. Eyes don’t process it.
I activated my usual -Shadow Sight- — the one that reads energy pulses across realms.
Still nothing. Just black. Like someone deleted the entire concept of - visual.-
First failure.
- Don’t worry, We’re right here. - That was Antwan and Mia — my people. My brain squad.
And with that comfort in my chest, I dove over the edge.
Straight into the Obscurity.
After such a dramatic, screen-fading disappearance, any self-respecting series would cut to black, leave you sobbing, and flash a sexy little teaser: - In the Next Episode…-
But my life? Not a show. Not a stage. And definitely not in the budget.
No soundtrack. No cinematography.
Just me, sliding down the -cat hook- into a whole lotta WTF.
The moment my boots hit the ground, something squelched. And growled. At first, I thought it might be some mysterious organic terrain — maybe the stretched hide of a massive creature or pulsating alien moss or whatever.
Spoiler:
It was poop.
Very, very real shit.
The kind of smell that grabs your sinuses, shakes them, and whispers: -You stepped in someone's digestive journey.-
Silver lining? Something around here is alive. And it's big enough to leave steaming landmines.
I ran a quick gear check: My classic spiked jacket? Still on. Latex pants with knee-fangs? Fabulous. Wrist stilettos? Armed and loaded. My backpack — complete with a small, discreet patch of Antwan’s face — still zipped and cozy.
(He’s never seen it. Gotta keep that teenage ego in check. But damn if I’m not sentimental.)
Inside: three vials, a soda bottle, and... some cash.
Yeah. Actual paper bills. Crinkly, ancient, museum-worthy cash. Why? Well, in these Obscurity-wrecked zones, some survivors might still run on that old-school economy. Call me delusional, but money talks. Even in hellscapes.
I took a step. Then another.
Beneath my boots now lay what felt like stone pavement — although my eyes weren’t doing me any favors. I could barely see anything.
Hands outstretched like a blind bat, I waddled forward, smacking into every object like a drunk mole.
First? A bucket. Sent it flying. Then I hugged a tree — sturdy, healthy, and surprisingly moist. So not everything here was dead. Noted.
Between the stumbles, I was making a lot of noise. Enough to summon every local demon, goblin, or eldritch Karen in the district.