Chapter 344: The Sightseeing Coach
Jiro stood at the entrance of the bus, clutching a "Standard Script Card" that
had just been issued by the new administration.
The card featured three primary directives:
1. Welcome to the Evernight Sightseeing Coach.
2. This transit-cycle is 100% secure. Please enjoy the immersion.
3. If you experience physiological distress, depress the red button on your
armrest for immediate extraction to the Safe-Zone.
Simple. Direct. He had archived the text into his memory in less than ten
seconds.
The problem, Jiro noted, was not the script.
The problem was the young Orc currently staring at him with a predatory
intensity. The child's golden, slitted eyes were wide with curiosity, and his
small tail was performing a rhythmic, excited sweep against the asphalt.
Jiro had existed in the Eldritch Realm for over twenty years. He had witnessed a
thousand varieties of biological and spiritual horrors. But a child with furry
ears and a tail standing before him and addressing him as "Uncle"? That was a
statistical first.
"Uncle, when does the vehicle initiate movement?"
"...In five minutes."
"Am I authorized for early boarding?"
"Affirmative."
The young Orc bounced onto the bus, localizing a window seat in the front row.
He pressed his nose against the glass, letting out a series of muffled,
high-pitched chirps of wonder as he scanned the street. The mother and father
followed; the father offered Jiro a shallow nod—a common social greeting between
Imperial subjects.
Jiro returned the nod, maintaining his professional mask.
Then, the Elves arrived.
Five of them boarded in a silent column. Each unit performed a slight lateral
tilt as they entered, ensuring their long, sharp ear-tips didn't strike the
frame of the door. Jiro stared at the ears for three seconds before his
curiosity bypassed his dampers.
"Are those... umm... ear-appendages... natural biological growths?"
The lead Elf paused, tilting his head to examine Jiro. "Affirmative."
"Is it a species-wide constant?"
"Every member of the Elven race possesses this morphology."
"I see."
Jiro retracted his gaze, logging a new rule in his mind: Do not obsess over
Elven acoustics. It is socially unoptimized.
The next variables to board were two Dwarves. The first one was hauling a
rucksack so oversized it became wedged in the entryway. Jiro stepped forward to
provide a kinetic assist. The trunk struck the floor with a resonant thud-vroom,
making the bus's chassis vibrate.
"My gratitude, brother," the Dwarf rumbled, slapping his hands together before
marching toward the rear rows.
The second Dwarf paused as he passed Jiro, conducting a visual audit of the
native.
"You are an indigenous unit of this Plane?"
"Correct."
"You appear remarkably 'Normal.' I projected the inhabitants of the Anomaly
Sector would look like processed remains."
Jiro opened his mouth, then closed it. He wanted to state that before the
Sovereign rewrote the world's source-code, the entities on this bus were
processed remains. But the Script Card lacked a protocol for historical irony,
so he chose silence.
The coach reached 70% capacity. Jiro performed a census: nineteen units. He
picked up the intercom, initiating the broadcast.
"Passengers, attention. Welcome to the Evernight Sightseeing Coach, Planar
Loop."
"This cycle is verified secure. Our route includes the Midnight District, the
Mist Forest, and the Old Bell Tower."
"We shall halt at each coordinate for a five-minute observation window. You are
authorized to disembark for photographic archiving or survey."
"If you experience a system-error or panic-spike, utilize the red button."
He finished the scripted text, paused, and added a personal addendum.
"Furthermore... you may perceive 'Distorted Silhouettes' outside the glass.
These are landscape-tier visual effects. They are not active threats. Do not
initiate a combat response."
With that, he occupied the driver's seat and ignited the engine.
The coach pulled away from the platform with a smooth, mechanical hum, gliding
along the grey cobblestones. Buildings slowly receded in the windows as the
bruised purple sky unfurled above.
Primary Coordinate: The Midnight District.
When the vehicle halted, every passenger pressed themselves against the glass.
The streets were lined with archaic lamp-posts, the light dim and flickering
every few seconds. Faint, blurred shadows moved across the walls—not humanoid
shapes, but elongated, shifting outlines that slid across the stone in absolute
silence.
The young Orc's eyes widened to a dangerous degree. "PAPA! THE SHADOW IS
MOVING!"
"Data perceived. Do not fear, unit. It is a simulation."
"I am not afraid! I want to disembark and initiate a play-session with it!"
The father pinned the pup to the seat with a heavy hand.
The Elves had already extracted their sketchbooks, their pens becoming a blur as
they archived the atmospheric lighting. The Dwarf scribbled in his notebook:
[Midnight District: Atmospheric Score: 7.5. Lighting rhythm is adequate.
However, shadow velocity is too linear. Recommend increasing randomized
variables for higher thrill-rating.]
Jiro watched the feedback in the rearview mirror.
No screaming. No one hitting the emergency extraction button. No one displaying
genuine, biological terror.
He remembered the era before the annexation. Every human who had ever boarded
this bus carried a signature of absolute despair, weeping and begging for a
mercy that didn't exist. Now? He had a Dwarf giving him a performance review,
Elves making art, and a child shrieking with excitement.
Jiro adjusted the mirror and focused on the road ahead.
Everything had changed. The logic of his world had been overwritten.
Secondary Coordinate: The Mist Forest.
This sector had once been a terminal-danger zone—a labyrinth of lethal
Rule-traps hidden in the fog.
The mist remained, but the density had been throttled down. One could now
perceive objects within a three-meter radius. Small Lights of Evernight were
pinned to the tree trunks at ten-pace intervals, providing a permanent
navigational anchor.
The Elves disembarked, stepping onto the carpet of fallen grey leaves. One Elf
knelt, picking up a withered leaf and examining it with intense focus.
"This flora has no equivalent in our archives. The vein-patterns are unique."
Another Elf leaned in. "It appears to be a variant altered by a Rule-based
energy field. The original biological morphology has been overridden."
Jiro stood by the bus door, listening to the Elves debate a piece of dead
foliage with high-tier academic jargon he couldn't even begin to parse.
He realized he would require a significant duration to adapt to these new
"Guests."
Perhaps an eternity.
☆☆☆
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