Pocket World Diorama

"...And what is this something, Sir?" Restiel asked, slightly wary.

It was after this question that Arlon produced what seemed to be another work of art from within his Storage Scroll. It was a glass sphere, depicting a city scene that Restiel found very familiar.

[ No way... ] Magnus' voice resounded from within the Hivemind.

He vividly recalled his most recent death as more chills ran up his spine. Images flashed through his mind. The blurry shadow, the suction force, the warped city, and his atomization.

'Is Arlon and that figure in cahoots?' He asked himself as he swiftly commanded Restiel to prepare to flee.

Luckily, however, things didn't seem to be going in that direction. Instead, Arlon, who was holding a diorama of the warped Gallery, chuckled.

"You don't have to be so afraid, boy. This is just an artefact that I had chanced upon a few days ago. After a bit of studying, I discovered that it is some kind of Pocket World."

Arlon paused,

"I'm sure you know what a Pocket World is, right?" He asked, "It's those things that have popped up in the recent years."

Restiel nodded. "Yes, I've visited some before."

"Then that's good." Arlon analysed Restiel's calm expression for a moment and deemed that the angel wasn't lying.

Well, in the first place, Restiel couldn't. His Curse wouldn't allow him. But Arlon had no way to know that.

"This orb over here is basically a Pocket World and I need someone to explore it." Arlon continued.

"...Why me?" Restiel suddenly asked.

"Because you fit the requirements to enter. I don't. Plus, I can tell that you really want the Painting of Contrived Lovers. If you do well, I can even lend you the artefact."

"What requirements are we talking about?"

"One needs to be in the middle of 2-stars and 3-stars. One also must be younger than 30 years of age." Arlon then pointed at himself, "I'm a 4-star threat. I'm also 38 years old."

"Do you get my point?"

Restiel nodded, "Yes, Sir."

"Now, aside from exploring the place, there is also something I want you to retrieve when you enter this Pocket World."

Arlon took out a weapon from his Storage Scroll.

"It looks like this, but is a knife instead."

Restiel studied the sword and committed it to memory. The starry scabbard, the curves of a scimitar, the black colour of the blade itself, as well as the rope-wrapped handle. He took it all in in a moment.

"Noted," He said.

Seeing how serious Restiel was, Arlon secretly sighed in relief.

'I got someone decent. Finally.'

Looking for candidates among the rowdy adventurers and greedy treasure hunters had proven to be difficult. It was only when a literal angel arrived did he find someone who had just the right amount of greed.

Arlon, after all, did not want to bother with the blood of the masses. He had been sent there to protect people, and thus, killing someone because of their greed which they would obviously have, was annoying.

It went against his professional standards.

All of the people here were aiding in the prosperity of Aodis in one way or another. Something that he too wanted to see. For both his children and for himself.

"Then, let us begin," Arlon spoke, beckoning Restiel forward.

"All you have to do to be transported into the Pocket World is to deposit your Spirit Energy into this diorama. To leave, you can simply take back your Spirit Energy, and you will instantly be pushed out." Arlon swiftly made his explanations as Restiel placed his hand on the orb.

"I understand," Restiel nodded obediently once again.

"Now, remember to stay safe and bring back what I asked you to. Good luck."

And with that, Restiel poured his Spirit Energy into the diorama. He found the world around him swirl and warp.

He closed his eyes to avoid as much dizziness as possible, and in the next moment, he found himself alone in the room. Indeed, Arlon had disappeared, and so did everything else that had originally been there.

A lingering silence had descended, but Restiel knew that he was not in the same place he was before. He could feel his deposited Spirit Energy and knew that he could draw it back whenever he wished.

"Hm, so Arlon wasn't lying." He hummed, seemingly in thought.

He then broke a window and flew out.

What he discovered was emptiness all throughout the area. Not one speck of life showed itself. There was no wind. Just stale air.

No dust flew up from anywhere aside from beneath his wings.

There were only skyscrapers; works of art that Magnus growing familiar with. They were currently laid on flat ground, but Magnus felt that at a certain height and at a certain place, that warped scene that he had seen would show itself.

Magnus and Klaris both appeared after a short invocation.

"So..." Klaris' voice trailed off as he looked around. "I think it's best if we split up and search."

"Let's do that." Restiel nodded, and so did Magnus.

Looking for a knife in this place was likely like looking for a needle in a haystack. Arlon had given him zero hints.

Thoughts of the weapon he was shown appeared in his mind.

And, just as Magnus thought of that, he felt a familiar calling.

Magnus grinned.

"I see how it is,"

.

.

.

Magnus, together with his Hivemind members stood in front of a skyscraper that was calling to them. Beckoning them to come closer.

It was a familiar feeling, one that he had last felt compel him towards the Half-Night Tome.

An object was asking to be claimed.

Thus, Magnus obliged. He brought all of his members with him despite the risks, because this was the first time that all of them felt the temptation to act.

Even Restiel, whose Vow of the Angelic was ever-present, was being tempted. His simple presence here was already weakening him to a degree.

His breathing had become ragged.

"Let's make this quick," Restiel urged the other two.

"I'll go in first then," Magnus graciously made his way into the skyscraper and pulled the doors open with a pulse of gravity.

Klaris and Restiel followed after him. Their footsteps echoed in the empty diorama world.

Click, clack, click, clack. Such was the sound of their shoes.

As they made their way inside, they were greeted by a sight of simplistic modernity. White, grey, and black were the main colour themes for the interior design, with abstract creations of sculptures and furniture bringing a few spices to the monochrome table.

Magnus wondered what they would encounter.

Would it be a fight? Again, just like old times?

Or would it be...

"A puzzle," Magnus' eyes shone as he noticed a giant chess set in the middle of the room. "A single queen and king against a row of pawns guarding another king..."

Magnus was familiar with such an exercise. Fae had once challenged him on that when they were younger.

Magnus walked over and studied the chess set.

Every piece was as tall as he was, and every tile was a metre squared. The pawns were all in the form of humans, wearing simple dresses akin to placing a curtain over one's shoulders.

They were a stark contrast to the well-dressed kings and queen. With the queen herself holding a great broadsword that could surely behead anyone who dared cross her.

"I simply need to destroy their formation," Magnus muttered as he reviewed the strategies he had once drilled into his mind.

A tactic used by those who play one against many. This challenge wasn't that hard when Magnus had done it before.

Thus, he tried moving a piece— only to find out that the queen refused to move despite his pushes.

"Hm,"

Magnus hummed in thought.

"How about Spirit Energy?" Klaris suggested. "That might have an effect."

"I was just about to try that."

Magnus poured his Spirit Energy into the chess piece, but the results? The results were still the same.

No motion at all.

"Right," Magnus slapped his head.

He realised that the white pieces had yet to make a move. The queen was a black piece.

"How did I forget about that?" He laughed, "So, am I supposed to play the pawns then?"

Magnus tried moving a piece, but the same fact still stood.

With his efforts either physically or through spirit, nothing moved the pieces.

"Is this not the puzzle then?" He asked, prompting a few shrugs from Klaris and Restiel.

"I'll try looking around a bit more. Maybe there's something we can find. A key of some sort or a power supply perhaps," Restiel said as he turned around to explore the room.

Klaris did the same.

Only Magnus stayed at the giant chessboard and analysed the situation at hand. His intuition as well as the temptation was telling him that the chessboard was the key.

Like this, Magnus spent the next few minutes racking his brains.

He tried verbal commands such as,

"Pawn to D3," Or "Queen to B8,"

And he even tried attacking the pieces himself.

But nothing worked. He couldn't even damage the pieces in the slightest.

Magnus was stumped at the moment.

Until,

[ I found something! ] Restiel suddenly said, [ But I don't know if it's helpful. ]

A stream of information then flowed through the Hivemind and Magnus caught sight of what Restiel could see.

[ These... Could these be former pieces? ] Magnus gasped.

The states of the pieces could only be said to be gruesome. Some were in a state where they were unrecognizable as to what piece they were.

A pile of corpses was all that Restiel could see. Chopped up, sliced, impaled, stabbed, beheaded, and many more horrible deaths were depicted among the pile.

It sent a chill up Magnus' spine for a moment.

Restiel had found the pile hidden within a small secret room at the corner of the floor. The door had been slightly ajar, and thus he had discovered the anomalous presence. He hadn't expected to see such gruesome yet artistic depictions of death.

Magnus counted the number of pieces and discovered that all the missing pieces on the chessboard right now were in that pile.

"Do I have to repair them first then?" He asked himself.