The slaughter within the Fog Abyss Fortress didn’t attract anyone’s attention. Under the deliberate concealnt of Tyrant Mammon, the anomalies within this place didn’t even stir any unusual signs at Similarly Fork, let alone throughout the Great Rift or beyond, in Oath City Opus.
Every day, endless fog spews forth from the Rift, mixed with warm ash, resembling black snow, or poisonous smog.
So Scholars argue that these fogs and ashes result from companies dumping waste into the Great Rift. They raise banners and march along the Rift, demanding environntal protection and a ban on waste dumping.
There are also adventurers, fully equipped, viewing the bottom of the Great Rift as uncharted territory, swearing to explore the unknown beneath the Sea of Mist and uncover the source of these anomalies.
Many adventurers have lost their lives in the thick Sea of Mist. With official intentional obscuration, no one ntions the mysteries of the Great Rift anymore. To this day, only a few remain concerned. Most people have grown accustod to its presence.
As for where the Great Rift originated, why the Sea of Mist arose, or what the ash is, it’s still an unsolved mystery for the ordinary people.
But the mystery doesn’t matter.
People have now grown used to the existence of the Great Rift, viewing the Sea of Mist and ash as a peculiar natural phenonon. The hazy, illusory fog accumulates in the city’s sky, forming a massive fog canopy that shrouds much of the city, casting shadows as well.
Opus rarely sees sunny days. For everyone here, sunlight is extrely precious, especially for Afeiya.
Afeiya stepped out of the shop and looked up at the sky. Compared to the usual gloomy days, today’s heavy clouds were much thinner, and golden sunlight poured down, warm on her skin.
In a city with a harsh environnt and severe industrial pollution like Opus, flowers are a rarity, with a flower shop like Afeiya’s being even rarer.
Early in the morning, Afeiya busied herself. She opened the windows, pulled back the skylight cover to let the sun pass through the glass and into the room. Simultaneously, she moved several pots of flowers to pile up outside the shop. On such sunny days, it’s only fitting for the flowers to bloom outside.
After so simple arrangents, Afeiya changed into her gardener’s outfit, took a watering can to water the flowers, and occasionally picked up scissors to trim the branches. Before long, the shop’s other employees also arrived one after another.
People bustled about like blooming flowers. Their arrival enlivened the shop.
Outside, the streets were also becoming busy. Vehicles piled up at the intersection, and everyone complained about the traffic jam, pressing harsh horns out of sheer boredom. More people hurried by, entering the subway station, taking the carriages to the other end of the city.
At such tis, Afeiya would quietly stand at the flower shop’s entrance, watching the bustling scene.
This is the most ordinary scene in Oath City Opus. In this extrely developed city, there’s nothing particularly unique culturally, but if forced to point out any traits, Afeiya could only think of the chanical hustle and the crazy rapid developnt.
The city is like a giant beast, devouring the lives of diocre people, treating them as flesh-and-blood parts assembling into a machine that charges forward almost maniacally.
Since it began sixty years ago, it has yet to pause.
To this day, Oath City Opus continues to expand. New buildings shoot up from the ground, and in the air over a hundred ters high, workers sit on beams built from simple iron fras sharing breakfast, overlooking the majestic and imposing city.
Many people loathe it here, feeling the city is consuming everyone’s life, the gloomy weather suffocating, while so detest the city’s developnt, as it dominates every corner with steel and cent, and the natural scenery has long been destroyed by industrial fus.
"Cough, cough, the air here is getting worse and worse."
A white-haired old lady covered her nose in disgust, looking at the gloomy sky. In her eyes, the fog canopy over the city is the source of all evil, constantly spewing filth and dust outward.
"I really miss the days back ho," the old lady murmured softly, "There were no such tall buildings or cars piling up on the streets, just green fields and forests. There was no need for a flower shop because flowers were everywhere."
The old lady looked puzzlingly at Afeiya, "Why do you like it here so much?"
Long ago, the old lady wanted to return ho but was reluctant to leave Afeiya here alone. In her view, Afeiya was still a child who needed care.
"Hmm..."
Afeiya paused her work and began to think seriously.
So people like it here, so people loathe it. The old lady initially thought Afeiya wouldn’t like this place, but surprisingly, this flower-loving girl particularly cherished this smog-filled city.
She believed Afeiya’s ho should be in a place full of green fields.
{"How should I put it?"}
Afeiya looked at the bustling street, "This city indeed has many annoying aspects, but it also has good parts, like it’s very progressive."
She looked at the old lady with surprise, "I want to get into a university here, where I can learn the best knowledge."
The old lady fell silent. She couldn’t deny this point. Opus has the most advanced knowledge and the highest institutions. She knew Afeiya couldn’t sell flowers forever, and sooner or later, she’d have to explore other paths.
"Sigh..."
The old lady sat on the chair, lanting, "This city is lifeless yet vibrant."
The entire city is unrelentingly monotonous. Everyone bustles about, faithfully fulfilling their duties as cogs, yet it is vibrant. Here, you can see erging artworks, avant-garde music, and posters of movies plastered on high-rise buildings.
Every day, countless outsiders arrive, injecting fresh blood into the city.
The old lady still rembers the feeling years ago when she brought Afeiya from their hotown’s small town to this city.
It felt like ti travel; she stepped into a city a hundred years into the future, filled with things she’d never seen. In comparison, their quaint hotown seed like a primitive tribe.
No matter how tired she was of it, the old lady understood that letting Afeiya stay was the right choice. This city was full of the future, offering Afeiya endless possibilities.
Afeiya said, "More importantly, this city needs ."
"Needs you?" The old lady laughed, "To this city, you’re worth nothing, child."
The old lady had seen too many people get lost in this city. Marginalized people were everywhere, and the city was like a cold deity, indifferent to anyone’s life or death.
"No, I an, my flowers, our existence here."
Afeiya continued, "This city lacks the colors of flowers, and our existence fills that gap."
"They could easily import them," the old lady lightly pinched a flower petal, "There’s never a shortage of wealthy people here."
Under the assault of money, nothing can stump those people.
"It’s not for them," Afeiya spoke softly, "but for those who need and for whom I need... a little bit of existential significance."
She walked to a corner of the flower shop, picked up a bouquet that had been wrapped. She checked the date, knowing that person would co for it today.
Afeiya knew that as an independent individual, she was insignificant to this massive city, as was this small flower shop. But for her custors, those who regularly picked up a flower, this small shop was essential.
Being needed, that was important. It made Afeiya feel her efforts were aningful, especially for that strange custor.
The aning of existence.
This seems to be humanity’s ultimate philosophical conundrum, but in this small flower shop, it’s resolved simply with a bouquet of flowers.
To need and be needed, that is everything.
Afeiya placed the wrapped bouquet at the entrance, anticipating the custor’s arrival. Afeiya knew he would co, like so sort of ritual.
Thinking this way, Afeiya’s thoughts were interrupted for a mont. She couldn’t quite rember who that strange custor was, a vague feeling welled up, questioning why she even wrapped this bouquet. It seed like no custor had reserved it...
The air carried the faint scent of blood, and Afeiya looked cautiously outside. A familiar yet unfamiliar custor stood at the door.
After a while, buried mories resurfaced as if unearthed from a gravel path. Afeiya faintly rembered who this custor was, but no matter what, she couldn’t recall his na.
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