The harsh glare of the sunrise finally pierced the cloud layer, bathing the weathered deck of the flying junk boat in pale gold light. They were heading southwest of the continent, moving over rolling plains that would one day become the industrial heartland.
Trevor stood rigid at the helm, the wind tugging at his heavy coat. His 45th-century biologyrendered sleep optional; his mechanized nervous system drew power from the localized mana core, and while he could eat or drink, it wasn't strictly necessary. What was truly important to his cybernetic framework was a steady supply of refined castor oil.
With a practiced motion, he retrieved a sleek metal canister, unscrewing the cap and downing a measured dose. It was essential lubrication for the micro-servos integrated into his skeletal structure, preventing the grinding wear that would otherwise compromise his special-ops chassis.
“Eelon,” Trevor muttered, the oil coating his internal gears with a satisfying smoothness, “where are we heading?”
The metallic head of the AI snake-bot shifted slightly on his collar, its emerald optics scanning the horizon. “All systems nominal. Mana thrusters at eighty percent efficiency. Estimated time to destination: forty-five minutes. Though the destination remains ill-defined.”
“I'm going to see my birthplace into this timeline, before I became a humanoid,” Trevor replied flatly.
Eelon paused, its processors processing the data point. “You still have heart affection and mindful nostalgia.”
“Shut up,” Trevor snapped. “You know nothing of human emotions, you AI snake-bot.”
“Your program is a complete failure or an anomaly,” Eelon countered, unfazed. “You are imperfect for a special action force.”
Trevor looked out over the passing landscape. “There is no perfection into this world. Even a painting has its own flaws—that's what makes it an art.”
“Art is an inefficient data set,” Eelon stated. “But if you are going into your home into this timeline, there is a lot of difference.”
“Yeah, I know. We're 3,000 years into the past. I didn't expect any technological advancement in Brandenburg.”
The chapter is published on the NovelPhoenix site, though this page copied it without permission; the author's posting supports them.
“Based on my historical records, Brandenburg is non-existent yet,” Eelon corrected. “The name of the city is Celadon Hawk City, located in the Southern Kingdom of Ravinia.”
“Oh, what a classical name,” Trevor noted. “Any historical figures into that place at this timeline?”
Eelon’s eyes flickered rapidly. “Let me check. Alister, an athletic Wizard; Juno, the Chemist; and Dustin, the Blue Knight. These names are the honourable mentions. We also have Elias the Astronomer, Kelvin the Sculptor, and Shela the Merchant.”
Trevor grunted. “It doesn't ring a bell. They are just forgotten names in the past.”
A half-hour later, the flying junk boat reached Celadon Hawk City, a sprawling settlement with a population of 100,000. Trevor went down to a lower altitude, surveying the bustling streets below.
“I see no drop-off location to park my junk boat,” Trevor remarked.
“Based on the cultural database,” Eelon chimed in, “you must rent a rooftop from homeowners to keepsake your flying junk boat.”
“Oh, damn... very classical.”
Trevor guided the junk boat at low altitude while scanning the rooftops. Finally, he spotted someone reading a newspaper while drinking coffee on a high terrace.
“Good morning, old man!” Trevor called out. “Can I park my junk boat on your property? I'll pay.”
The old man looked up slowly. “Yes. One Ravinian Gold per day. Everything will be safe until your departure, and we can serve free cleaning, but the maintenance is a separate billing charge.”
“No problem. I will not stay that long.”
Trevor parked his junk boat safely on the roof. He left his backpack and his stash of gold in the compartment of the junk boat, bringing only 50 gold coins in his pocket.
Trevor then set out to search for where his home used to stand back in the future. After navigating the winding streets, he found it: the property lot was currently occupied by a modest house operating as a bookstore.
Trevor pushed the door open and stepped inside. Camilla, the house owner, greeted him warmly.
“What book are you looking for, young man?” Camilla asked.
“Honestly, I'm not sure yet,” Trevor replied, scanning the packed shelves. “But give me some time to browse... to make a decision.”
Trevor browsed the old books—nothing new to his 45th-century knowledge—until one specific volume caught his interest: The Book of Kraken Steed Sea Voyages: Volume 4 – The Journey to Gaia Pangea.
Trevor whispered into his collar, “Eelon, who is Kraken Steed?”
“Kraken Steed is a famous terror of the sea,” Eelon answered softly in his ear. “He has many remarkable achievements discovering the seven continents. He is from North's End and was a Jarl back then.”
“And Gaia Pangea?”
“Gaia Pangea is located far west from this continent. We call it in our modern day back into the future: Balmerica Ultima.”
“I see. The unstable lands have so many disputes,” Trevor mused. “Btw, what is the current status of that continent today?”
“Humans, elves, and dwarves established a joint city there for joint exploration 200 years agofrom the current timeline—long before the death of Richter Strauss.”
“What? That would be a lot of earnings. The adventurers' guilds must still be at their peak.”
Without hesitation, Trevor hurriedly bought the book, paid the shopkeeper, and rushed out of the bookstore into the afternoon sun.