Evolto City: The Nexus of Eternity

Nyxia's POV

The TV blared like it was laughing at me.

"I have come here to chew bubblegum and kick ass. And I'm all out of bubblegum."

The volume was too high, but I didn't bother turning it down. The static roar and cheesy one-liners were better than silence. Silence let the memories breathe. Or hallucinations. I'm not sure which they were anymore.

It's been a few days since that tea.The one from the alleyway shop hidden behind drifting incense and carved dragons.Since she gave me that look. That knowing look.

"Somebody like you would long to remember."

She said it like it was a kindness.

But it wasn't.

It isn't.

I can't get it out of my head. Not even for a second.The tea was supposed to restore forgotten things. Pull up buried roots.

But what surfaced wasn't just memory. It was agony.

Screaming hers, mine. Blood dripping off glass like it was raining knives inside a cathedral.A little girl. Her voice shattering like porcelain.A room full of eyes, and none of them were mine.

And worse worse than anything was the hatred. The kind that seeps into your bones and pretends it belonged to you all along.But I don't remember doing this.I don't remember being there.

And yet… I feel it.

The weight.The smell of burning silk.The echo of my voice, too cold, too cruel to be mine.

In the quiet of my mindspace, I found Eon, floating in that usual serene way. His golden crystals pulsed slowly, like a heartbeat trying not to panic.He was watching the void ceiling trying not to look at me.

I asked him: "Did this happen?"

He hesitated.

That was the answer, even before he spoke.

"No," he said finally. "No, it didn't. Nothing like that ever happened."

But I saw the way his glow dimmed.The subtle twitch in his crystalline aura.The way his voice curved like it was dodging a blade.

He's hiding something from me.

I don't know what.I don't know why.

But I'm starting to wonder if the memories were never lost.

Just… taken.

Then my comm lit up, the screen buzzing with Dr. Wagner's ID and a flicker of medical charts like he forgot to turn off his overlay.

I answered it with a flick of my finger, still half-focused on the static chewing-gum-warrior echoing from the TV.

His voice came through sharp and clinical as always, laced with that clipped German accent that made everything sound either like a lecture or a warning.

"Ah, Nyxia. Ja. I vas told by Vidarath zat he brought you… there."

He didn't say where.

Just there.

But I knew exactly what he meant.

I could feel my jaw tense up on instinct, muscles twitching like they wanted to crawl out of my skin.

I let out a distracted grunt, not trusting myself to form words.

He sighed on the other end. Not disappointed more like weary. Like he'd had this conversation in his head a dozen times before calling.

"Vhen Eri is asleep tonight… come to ze bar. The Rusted Halo."

There was a pause. Long enough to make me wonder if he doubted I even remembered it.

"I am sure you remember ze vay… don't you?"

Another grunt from me. That was all I could manage. That place had memories of its own.

He took that as a yes.

"Okay. Good." he said, tone shifting just slightly lighter, but still with that precise Wagner edge.

Then the call ended, replaced by a soft ping and the silence of the room.

The TV was still talking, but I wasn't listening anymore.

The Rusted Halo.

It had been months.

And somehow, I already knew this wasn't just a drink.

Later that night...

I tucked Eri in, pulling the blanket up to her chin just the way she liked it, with the stitched stars lined up in their little constellations. I kissed her forehead, soft and slow, careful not to wake her. She stirred a little, murmured something about strawberries and space frogs, then drifted deeper into sleep. Her face calm, safe was a lighthouse in the storm of my mind. For a moment, I let myself believe that was all that mattered.

Then I stood in the doorway and watched her breathe.

Peace like that… I didn't deserve it.

I slid on my coat, the one with the cracked leather shoulders and the pocket full of ancient candy wrappers, and stepped out into the city.

I could've taken a traversal pylon. Just blinked across districts in seconds, no fuss.

But I didn't want fast tonight. I wanted thought. I wanted the ache in my legs and the pull of the city lights against the sky.

Evolto City never sleeps not really. Even at this hour the streets were alive. Neon koi swam through the mist overhead, buses shaped like serpents slithered past hovering cafes, and a man in a voidmask was preaching to a vending machine about the end times.

And still, none of it felt as loud as the silence in my head.

I kept walking.

Block by block, memory by memory, until the buildings turned older and the lights turned dimmer. And then I saw it:

The Rusted Halo.

Half bar, half gravity-warped dive. The signage flickered with static wings and broken halos, and something always smelled faintly of oil and regret.

I pushed open the door.

A low chime rang flat and electronic and a wave of scent hit me.

Not just any alcohol.

Cosmic whiskey.

Aged in black holes. Spiced with stardust. The kind of smell that punched through timelines and made ghosts sit up straight.

The air inside was thick with memories and mistakes.

And somewhere near the back, I knew Wagner was waiting.

I walked past the cheerful groups, my steps quiet on the worn metal floor. The Rusted Halo was alive tonight voices layered over music too old to name, clinking glasses echoing like bells of distant stars.

To my left, a cluster of workers laughed and hollered, raising glowing mugs in a toast. One of them shouted over the noise, "My boy made it he's in the Void Mines! Signed on today!" Cheers erupted like fireworks. Pride, fear, and desperation swirled beneath their joy. The Void Mines weren't kind to anyone, but they paid well and in this city, that meant something.

I kept walking.

Another booth held a pair of older women sitting in silence, sipping something strong and blue. Their eyes were glassy not from drink, but from the weight they carried. Between them, a photo of a girl in a scout uniform sat in a dented frame.

Then, past the laughter, past the grief, past the stories that didn't want to be heard I reached the back.

And there he was.

Dr. Wagner.

No uniform.

No lab coat.

No black gloves.

No plague doctor mask.

Just a man.

He wore a dark sweater, sleeves rolled up, collar open his frame lean but tight with restrained energy, like he never quite turned the doctor off. His silver hair was slightly disheveled, and he hadn't shaved today. But even out of uniform, his presence was sharp coiled tension behind tired eyes.

Strapped to his side like a faithful ghost was his medical bag. Scuffed, reinforced, full of things you never wanted to see.

He didn't notice me at first.

He was nursing a drink, staring into the glass like he could diagnose the universe from the color of its swirl.

I pulled the chair opposite him, and it groaned under my weight.

He looked up. Didn't smile.

Just gave that slight, familiar nod.

He took a slow swig from his glass, the amber liquid catching the dim light. Then, in that unmistakable German accent, his voice dropped to something far more serious than usual.

"That idiot really took you to that place."

He shook his head with a tired sigh.

"I kept telling him do not do it so fast. It is meant for survivors. For those who had their universe consumed by a Consumer. But he pushed it anyway."

He leaned forward, eyes narrowing.

"Now, you have questions. I can answer some of them."

His tone was grave, not the usual brusque humor or sarcasm.

"Let me tell you about Consumers."

He tapped the table once, as if the words themselves carried weight.

"When a Consumer eats a universe, any survivors not within that universe outsiders will forget everything about it. Their lives, their names, even themselves. All erased from memory."

He paused, letting that sink in.

"Except... some fragments remain. The most personal things the core of a being."

His gaze sharpened.

"But there is a way to remember."

"If a large number of survivors escape, like the Dendrites their original universe was consumed, yes but because so many escaped together, they retain memories of it."

"And very rarely, someone arises who can bring those memories back to others."

He glanced at me, voice softening.

"The woman who gave you that tea... she's done this many times. For survivors who long to remember."

I met his gaze, steady and unwavering.

"I don't know what you saw," he said quietly, "but remember those are memories. Not fate."

He paused, the weight of his words hanging between us like smoke.

"If you regret them, then fix them. Whatever way you try whether it's being a better father to Eri, or helping this city."

With that, he stood up, his medical bag shifting against his side. Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving me alone with the hum of the bar and the shadows of my past.

I sat there, the weight of his words settling deep inside me. The smile of that young girl lingered in my mind bright, fragile, aching. Then, almost without warning, it shifted. It became Eri's smile warm, innocent, a beacon in the darkness.

That flicker of light ignited something inside me. My resolve hardened like forged steel.

I'd been given a chance fragile and precious in the form of this city, this life.

And I wouldn't waste it.