Arc of the Souls Chapter 47: Arc 2, Chapter 27 - The Testharian Problem

Read chapter 47 of Arc of the Souls by Noyr on NovelPedia.

“And that’s how it’s done. If I can place a checkmark where I’ve last been, I can essentially return to that point of origin.” Jumkou mused, sitting down on the now-belonging-to her pilot seat, twirling the plastic straw on her mouth. It was now a matter of time before they reached the Testharian space zone. Flynnigan opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, searching for a foothold in the conversation. He landed on the only thing that felt genuine. “…Huh. So… That’s how you saved Sachiel Eria?” Jumkou flicked her nail against the straw, producing a ping-y noise. “I don’t remember much of it myself, but I assume from what he said, that is what happened. Think of it like a save point in a video game… Powerful, isn’t it?” “Powerful… is an understatement.” Flynnigan sat down on his own personal seat, gazing into the snowy white planet that was Testharia. They were near. “Nasse, are we almost there?” - Yes. In fact—you have now entered Testharian atmosphere. – It said. “Oh, finally! Hey Flynn, come look at this.” She beckoned him over to the windshield of the ship. He saw Testharia in its full glory... better said, Tristate City. Beautiful high-rise towers basking in orange and blue colours, big buildings and high decorative roads with a main road that connects the Eria Tower outside lobby to the main docking station. Landing pads as big as a city hall, trains that go ten times faster than commercial airliners on Earth. Tristate City, the city of tomorrow. “Let’s park her where she belongs, eh?” Jumkou flew the ship steadily with the help of Nasse. Still unfamiliar with ship controls, the assisted flight control initiated by Nasse helped steer the ship into the 55th floor of the tower. The hangar. - - Great Kamisword. I am informing you about the arrival of Jumkou Katatoria and her newfound companion, Flynnigan Shotaro. Both are unharmed. - “Jumkou has done it? Amazing.” He smiled, sitting on his office chair. It wasn’t too surprising for him at the very least. After all, he did put a lot of trust on her. She’s from the future; it would be far-fetched to think she wouldn’t know how to locate him. No, that would be insulting. Far more insulting, like spewing fire onto an already cauterized wound. Sachiel Eria reached for a glass of chilled water, turning the chair to face the panoramic view beyond his office. Testharia, and its capital, Tristate City, had been his lifelong preoccupation. his holy abode and personal prison, depending on the hour. How could Azrael have felt homesick even when he manufactured such a perfect world? For himself and his wife. How did he find the sight of Tristate City insulting? The perfection itself was insulting to him, something that Sachiel also felt subconsciously. The networks worked too well. The climate domes functioned at exactly the right hues and pressures. The people, even when angry, radiated a kind of sanitized politeness that made violence seem like a manufacturing defect. The protective barrier that Tristate City enlightened upon the citizens like a known divine intervention. Was Sachiel just a God amongst Men? God, it’s insulting to think about himself as a God. Let God smite the ‘God’ that he thinks of himself as a God. Calling himself one tasted… obscene. Hubris that deserved punishment. In that slight moment, he felt himself slipping, becoming like Azrael Eria. How he finds solace and peace in a foreigner he just met weeks ago. How he feels better just talking to Jumkou instead of talking to his council or taking care of intragovernmental issues. .:. “I want to go home, Sachiel. This place, albeit perfect, is no place for an imperfect man.” .:. .:. “... Why do you destroy your mind with such musings?” .:. .:. “My true home is where I belong. Your people look at me with confusion, racism. I built a perfect world, yet I do not belong.” .:. ... .:. “The people need you.” .:. .:. “No, Sachiel. They do not need me, I do not need them. They need a true-blooded, albeit half to lead