The Architect sandbox [The Archiverse series]

---

Chapter 59 – "The Other Side of the Gate"

Third Person – Oliver Woods

---

The final bell rang — not a loud clang or blaring sound, but a soft chime that echoed like a harp through the courtyard. It signaled the end of the school day, and the students began to gather near the main gate.

Oliver stood among the crowd, shoulder-to-shoulder with beastkin of every kind. Some yawned and stretched, others talked excitedly about their day. Tails flicked, wings rustled, and ears perked as the line slowly formed along the pickup zone.

One by one, guardians arrived — walking, flying, teleporting, or pulling up in enchanted carts and shimmering crystal wagons. The usual afterschool chaos, but sprinkled with monster magic and beastkin quirks.

Oliver stood silently, holding his backpack strap, scanning the edge of the courtyard.

Then, across the divide — past the outer fence and separated by hedges and a slight incline — he saw them.

The human students.

They were standing in neat rows on the far side of the school, their uniforms a stark contrast to the beastkin's varied outfits. They wore polished blues, silvers, and pristine white — high collars, formal blazers, glowing emblems pinned neatly on their chests. Not a smudge of dirt. Not a single wrinkle.

Oliver's eyes narrowed slightly.

So that's where the humans go.

He had started to suspect it, but seeing them now made it obvious. They weren't just in a different class — they were in a different world within the same school. One of polished halls and structure. His class had playful otterkin, cranky tiger boys, and sloth security guards. Their class probably had spellcraft professors and etiquette training.

They looked at ease. Confident. Some even bored.

It was strange. Technically, Oliver was one of them. A human. But he hadn't been placed with them. Not even close.

He didn't mind. Not exactly. But still… the thought stuck with him like a pebble in his shoe.

As the crowd thinned around him, beastkin were slowly being picked up — hugged by parents, scolded by siblings, or carried off by large winged creatures that looked half dragon, half chauffeur.

Oliver remained.

More minutes passed. The sky was shifting now — warm oranges and soft violets stretching over the courtyard.

He stood there, still waiting.

A few of the remaining students gave him curious glances as they left, but no one said anything. The breeze picked up slightly, and he hugged his arms, not from cold, but from that subtle discomfort of feeling last.

Then, finally, a familiar hum in the distance.

A blue vehicle rolled up from the outer path, its wheels crunching over the gravel. Oliver's shoulders eased a bit as he recognized it — the same smooth, slightly dusty car that always brought him here.

The door opened, and Martha leaned out with her usual half-smile.

"There you are," she called. "Hop in, champ."

Oliver exhaled, tightening his grip on his backpack before jogging over.

He glanced one more time at the fading figures of the human students on the other side of the hill.

Polished. Ordered. Distant.

Then he opened the door and climbed in.

This was his side of the school — strange, wild, and unpredictable.

And for better or worse… it was starting to feel like his side of the world.

-----

---

The ride home was quiet at first — the hum of the engine a soft, familiar rhythm beneath the oddness of everything else Oliver had seen today. He sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window as the strange, vibrant school slowly disappeared behind them.

Beastkin children flying. Fox girls chatting. Raccoons dipping food in lakes. Octopus cafeteria workers. And those polished human students, standing separate in their white and silver uniforms like they belonged to another world entirely.

Oliver let out a breath and leaned his head against the window.

Martha glanced over, her eyes warm and calm as always. "Long day?" she asked, turning the wheel gently onto a quiet stretch of road.

"Yeah," Oliver said softly. "Interesting."

She nodded knowingly. "You're adjusting fast. Faster than I thought."

He didn't respond right away. He just watched the scenery pass — floating streetlights beginning to flicker on, beastkin vendors packing up their carts, a griffin gliding high above in the fading light. This world was still new, still wild, but… it wasn't quite as overwhelming as before.

"Lyra still at school?" he finally asked.

"Yeah," Martha replied. "She's staying late for advanced Vita training. She'll be back later."

Oliver gave a small nod. Lyra was always pushing herself, always ahead in everything — math, control, confidence. She belonged in this world. She fit.

He wasn't so sure about himself yet.

But as the car rolled on and the strange school day played back through his mind — the sandcastle, the badger girl, the monkeykin prank, the tiger meat from a plant, and the cold stares of the uniformed humans — he realized something.

He had made it through. One strange lunch, one curious mistake, and one awkward recess at a time.

As the house came into view at the end of the road, Oliver sat up straighter.

Today was weird.

But it was also… a start.

----

First-Person Narrative – Oliver Woods

(Long Chapter – After School)

After school, I was exhausted. Beastkin kids? Wild. Loud and quiet. Clingy and reclusive. Hairy. Kind of amazing—but seriously overwhelming.

I stretched my arms back over my chair, letting out a long yawn as the sunlight through the window began to turn golden. The school day had ended a little while ago, and the bus ride back was filled with chatter and random tail-whacks across the aisle. No humans, no familiar slang, no predictable cliques—just a chaotic blend of fur, feathers, scales, and way too much energy.

I dropped my backpack by the door as soon as I got inside the house.

No sign of Lyra in the living room.

Good, I thought. That meant one thing:

Free computer time.

I headed upstairs, slipping out of my orange jacket and pulling on a soft blue shirt I found in the drawer—the color reminded me of sky over the Celestial Realm. Strange how even that still lingers in my head like it happened an hour ago.

The computer room was quiet, just the gentle hum of the screen as it booted up. The keyboard was oversized in my small hands, but I was getting used to it. I leaned forward and tapped into StarLink, the go-to video site of this world. The homepage was already showing me recommendations—still tuned into that algorithm that somehow knew exactly what I wanted to see.

I clicked on one immediately.

A thumbnail with frost, snow, and a figure wrapped in hiking gear, walking through a blizzard. Title read:

"North Ridge Ice Trek | Traveler Camp Ep. 112 ❄️"

The video opened with wind howling. A thirty-something man, his beard frosted at the edges, pulled his hood tighter and grinned at the camera.

"Temperature's down to minus twelve. Feels great!" he said, voice crackling over the icy wind.

He had that same energy I used to see in Earth streamers—high stamina, that perfect blend of confidence and chaos. Reminded me of MrBeast when he did those twenty-four-hour challenges, only… calmer, more grounded. This guy wasn't giving away islands or exploding a car for views. He was just... surviving. Really surviving.

No subscriber count was visible, which was normal for StarLink. But the view count sat easily in the millions. Comments were flowing—supportive, excited, hyped.

He trekked through the snow, passing frozen ruins and glowing ice pillars. Other Travelers appeared beside him, bundled up and laughing around a fire, tents glowing with Vita heat crystals.

They roasted strange meat. Melted glacier water. One woman summoned a heat sphere from Vita to boil stew instantly. It wasn't flashy—it was intimate. Real.

It felt like a life that didn't need internet fame. But somehow got it anyway.

My fingers hovered on the mouse as the man shared stories about a frozen lake creature and a village built inside an iceberg. I couldn't look away.

I thought about how different this was from Earth.

Back there, videos like this would be layered with sponsorships and controversy.

MrBeast in 2024 had ended up in all kinds of debates—his donations, his content, his influence. Everyone online had an opinion, a hot take, a fight to pick.

Here?

No one in the comments was arguing.

No one was tearing the streamer apart.

They were just… inspired. Asking questions. Sharing gear tips. Posting sketches of their own camp setups.

This world...

It's surreal.

I rested my chin on my hand, the warmth of the blue shirt soft against my skin, and kept watching.

There was something about these Travelers—out in the wild, free, surviving with purpose—that made me feel like I could belong somewhere again.

Not as a kid.

Not as a failed adult.

But as something new.

And maybe—just maybe—someday, that'll be me on that screen.

Telling my own story.

Earning my first Mysticoin.

And choosing my path.

First-Person Narrative – Oliver Woods

(Chapter: "Cherrywood and StarLink Dreams")

I was supposed to be winding down. Maybe reading a book or brushing my teeth or whatever six-year-olds are expected to do at the end of the day. But I was glued to the screen again—head tilted, eyes wide, heart quietly buzzing.

This time, I wasn't watching survival treks or ice-blasted camps.

I was watching house tutorials.

The video title was simple enough:

"Build 101: Traveler Housing for All Biomes 🌲🌵❄️🌸"

But the content? Incredible.

It wasn't some thrown-together hut made of sticks and desperation. No, these homes had elegance. Purpose. Each one was a perfect blend of magic, engineering, and nature.

There were desert domes shaped like blooming cacti, using sand-infused Vita bricks that absorbed heat during the day and cooled at night.

There were rainforest huts suspended high in the canopy with flowing rope bridges, glowing floor moss, and rain collection spells woven into the walls.

One home built inside a massive hollow tree had interior waterfalls, spiral staircases, and furniture that literally grew from the ground.

And then…

The video cut to a new biome.

A gentle wind swept through a pink-and-white forest, and I leaned in closer.

Not cherry blossoms.

Cherrywood trees.

They looked like Earth's sakura, but when one fell and cracked open, the actual wood inside was pink—soft, elegant, glowing faintly with Vita threads running through the grain like veins of light.

That's real? I thought. That actually grows here?

The voiceover explained how rare the biome was and how carefully Travelers had to work to keep the balance. But what really caught my eye wasn't the trees—it was the person standing beneath them.

A girl.

Melinna Rosefield user.

Pink hair that matched the trees.

She wore a long, flowing robe—not a kimono, not quite hanfu either—but something in between. Magenta layered into soft cherry pink, the fabric fluttering gently in the wind. It wasn't traditional. It was hers. Unique. Stylish. Practical in a fantasy-world sort of way.

Her feet were bare, standing calmly on the soft, flower-petal-covered ground.

She spoke gently, hands moving as she explained how she shaped her home from the trees themselves using low-impact Vita pulses.

And the house behind her?

A sloped cherrywood villa with sliding panels, a stargazing terrace, and a garden filled with bioluminescent lilies.

The video had 60 million views.

No flashy editing. No challenge gimmicks.

Just grace. Peace. Craft. Beauty.

And she was clearly loved.

The comments called her an artist. A soul-builder. One post simply read, "She built a place my heart wants to live in."

I sat there quietly, letting the background music play as she walked along a bridge of white petals and spoke about preserving tree memory during construction.

I couldn't stop thinking:

That's what I want.

Not just the house.

The peace. The respect.

To go from someone forgotten... to someone watched by millions, not for shouting or chaos, but for building something real.

Cherrywood trees. Pink forest wind. Gentle power.

Someday…

I'm gonna build something too.

-----

[ARCHIVERSE WORLD VERSION]

---

🌸 Cherrywood Trees – The Enchanted Jewel of the Pink Forest

The Cherrywood Tree is a semi- rare and mystical species found deep within the pink and white forests of the realm. Known for its striking beauty and mystical properties, this tree is both a visual marvel and a botanical enigma.

---

🌳 Appearance:

Leaves: Delicate pink petals shimmer with soft luminescence, resembling a blend of sakura blossoms and fantasy flora.

Bark: The bark is rich dark brown, rugged yet smooth to the touch, often streaked with subtle pink veins in older trees.

Wood Interior: When cut, the wood reveals a vibrant pink inner core, earning it the name cherrywood. This wood is prized for furniture, wands, and ceremonial carvings.

Fruit: It bears small pink berries that blend seamlessly with the surrounding foliage, acting as natural camouflage. Only the observant (or hungry) can spot them.

---

🌍 Habitat:

Grows exclusively in pink and white forests, a semi-rare biome where the ground is carpeted in soft petals, and the air carries the scent of blossoms year-round.

The environment is cool, misty, and slightly mystical—often near ancient springs or glowing ponds.

---

🪄 Lore & Uses:

Camouflage Berries: Said to grant short bursts of blending ability or stealth when consumed by forest creatures or travelers.

Sacred Trees: To eat....it taste good i guess.

---