Project Seraphina [LitRPG, Magitech, GL] [342] 4.63 Of Arms and Arcane Armor I

“Holy…” I mutter as we enter into Denver’s airspace. No, it’s not quite as big as the Dallas troplex— that galopolis is ungodly massive and spread out over a distance far too large to be fully natural. Or fully defended, for that matter. But it’s still absolutely massive, spread across well over a hundred square miles, and with additional suburbs and exurbs stretching down interstates 25 and 70 for hundreds more.

But even with its population, its resources, the dungeons I can see down on the surface… Its massive Tower Gauntlet stretches another mile above the Mile High City, standing triumphantly and imposingly over the dozens of manmade skyscrapers that stand in the middle of downtown.

One aspect of the city I don’t rember existing in any photos or textbooks of the city is the nurous eco-dos, for lack of a better term, sprawled throughout the city. A collection of massive cylindrical greenhouses, each a hundred to two hundred feet tall, with transparent dos of either glass or so sort of fiberglass on top. And then it hits : these are massive artificial bios used to grow enough food for the two to three million people who live in the city and surrounding troplex.

“We don’t have any of those back ho, do we?” Chloe asks.

“We probably don’t need them. There’s enough arable land to grow all the food we need and probably export so to neighboring communities.”

“Exactly,” Hank says. There really aren’t any large cities within a few hundred miles of here anymore, so the three million people in the Denver troplex have been forced to adapt the city to be more self-sufficient when it cos to food and other basic necessities. The nearest large cities still functioning are… I guess, Phoenix, Dallas, Kansas City, and the California coastal cities. It was pretty isolated even before the City Slayers.”

“Can we please change the subject, dear?” Mom says. “The less I have to rember of that horrible night, the better.”

“Agreed,” Chloe says.

“Anyway, we’re going to be touching down here and proceeding on foot.”

“We could carry you,” I suggest. “Chloe and I can both fly under our own power, if needed.”

“Our destination is actually not too far from here,” Hank says. “An… acquaintance of mine, I suppose. Can’t vouch for Jirel’s character, but there’s no denying that he has both the talent and the Skills of a master craftsman.”

“Is he going to be okay with helping us out?” Chloe asks.

Mom says nothing, but the way she grips the sides of her seat in the front of the copter suggests more than a little unease about the situation. And I can’t bla her. It wouldn’t be the first ti I’ve gone to a place looking for materials and ended up in a fight for their lives.

“Yes, absolutely,” Hank says. “When I say I don’t vouch for his character, I an that he’s dedicated to his craft first and foremost, and sells to anyone and everyone who buys, no questions asked, regardless of what they plan to do with it. I assu you both have money to pay for his work.”

So, an arms dealer. Maybe I really am taking after Madison after all, what with all the unsavory people I’m being forced to make nice with. Still, better an arms dealer in it for personal profit than a warlord trying to use my good na and power for his personal benefit.

“We do,” I say. “A few tens of thousands, at least, plus whatever our current armor is worth. That and the materials we harvested yesterday. Can’t say that adds to all that much to a master craftsman, but we’ll see if we can’t make so sort of deal.”

Chloe doesn’t look enthused by everything, but she doesn’t say anything to object, either.

We touch down on a small grove along the eastern edge of the city. No one seems to care about our arrival, for good or for ill. No police here to detain or interrogate— I think the pigs prefer the term interview— us. No children strolling up with wonder, barely a turn of the head from the few onlookers who give us even that much.

It’s not hard to see why. I hadn’t been paying too much attention to the skies earlier, so enamored I was with the sprawling troplex below, but there are thousands of other people flying around on everything from wings like mine and Chloe to gliders powered by [Wind] Ether to jetpacks to plus of crimson fla. The last of those, I’m not sure how they’re not causing wildfires everywhere they take off or land, but they do apparently, so none complain.

Travel through the city is a lot slower than I’m used to; Mom’s still a ways off from even her first ascension, if indeed she ever does go down that path. Still, no one tries to rush her.

“Hank, dear,” she says after about ten minutes. “I don’t suppose we can stop for brunch after we’re done here. I think it would be nice for all of us to have one nice al together, as a family.”

“Oh, that sounds nice,” Chloe says.

And I’m inclined to agree. I haven’t really had a nice al out since that dinner date with Chloe back in the middle of July. A trip with the family— and I do genuinely think of them as my family, even Hank— sounds really nice. Especially because it represents a chance just to be an ordinary eighteen year-old girl for an hour or two, and not just so bioweapon, angelic savior, and cosmic keystone.

An interesting thing about the thoroughfares through the city is that they no longer distinguish between pedestrian traffic on the sidewalks and vehicular transportation in the center of the streets. Instead, both travel together along the main roads, with different lanes corresponding to different speeds. High-level [Couriers] sprint alongside people in motorcycles traveling well over a hundred miles an hour in the center lanes, while we stroll along the outer edge of the streets, moving along at what feels like a leisurely pace to but would be closer to a brisk jog pre-System. Above us, the aerial traffic is less strictly disjointed by speed, but there still remains a certain order amidst the apparent chaos.

We arrive at a rather shady looking alleyway. Mom recoils at the sight of it; between the artificial darkness that blocks out the morning light, the security system with various gadgets that I can sort of identify based on the glyphs I see emblazoned upon the outer hulls, and the heavily-ard guards standing sentry outside the industrial compound within, I don’t bla her.

I turn to Chloe, half expecting her to be cowed by the display. Nothing could be further from the truth. Her [Auracite Armor] glows as her golden wings teeter on the edge of manifesting in front of them. She’s yet made no move toward her sword, but her eyes track every movent, never remaining still for an instant, ready to strike or heal as needed.

I remain unflinching, looking more with wonder at the sights before . Such technology, marvelous glyphs, swords and armor crafted by soone with a full class dedicated to it, rather than just my half-class and idle tinkering between dungeon dives and threats to my livelihood.

A sleazy man with slicked-back, sandy-blonde hair, a full suit, and a gaudy looking watch that altogether screams ‘The Mob’ steps toward us. “Gentleman, Ladies,” he says. “Welco to Jirel’s Arms and Armor.”

He hands us each a small device about the size of a debit card. “Mr. Hank, I know you know the rules of our facility, but for the sake of your guests, I will go over them in detail. First and foremost, Jirel’s Arms and Armor is a neutral facility, serving all without regard to creed or circumstance. I don’t care if you’re an officer of the law and the other guy is on the Ten Most Wanted List. Whatever grudges you have with any other patron remain at the door.”

Mom doesn’t like hearing that one bit, but it makes too much sense. None of the city factions want to cross the emporium selling the latest and greatest weaponry, lest they and their mbers be permanently cut off from doing any future business. And even if not for the purely practical and strategic considerations, there’s value in there being enforced neutral ground by a party which deliberately takes the Swiss approach to politics. I’m sure they also act as a neutral third party in delicate negotiations, hostage exchanges, diplomatic etings between bosses great and small. As for whatever other services they offer, off the record, I couldn’t begin to say.

“Related to that first point, these devices I’ve handed you are identification cards, of a sort. From the ti you enter the building until the ti you leave, each of you are to wear and equip these cards in one of your accessory slots. They will suppress your power and identify you as a patron of our establishnt. More importantly, they will make sure the automated security systems built into the facility will not identify you as a target.”

I do as the doorman says, though I find it more than a bit uncomfortable. [Defiant Spirit] is ready to wrest free from these Etheric bindings, but for the sake of propriety, I force that aspect of my power down. My body feels heavy and my movents sluggish. My mind remains untouched, racing through potential problems at a mile a minute, with one notable exception. The bond I share with Chloe has grown fainter and more distant; I feel as though I could struggle words through, though not without great difficulty.

“The final rule, for your safety more than anything else, is that no one is to touch the rchandise without staff approval. So items are soulbonded, others are cursed, all are rare and valuable.”

“Cursed?” Mom asks.

“Indeed, Ma’am. Swords that cannot be resheathed until they have spilled another’s blood, armor that continuously drains the [Ether] and even [Health] of its wearer, rings which cannot be removed once equipped, the list goes on. That does not an they do not have use cases; usually in such cases, a strong curse carries with it a powerful beneficial component as well. But without first knowing what you are dealing with, you risk grave danger.”

These cards are probably such an example. I’m willing to bet that they have half of one such curse embedded into them, while the building we’re about to enter has the other half, forcing us to keep these equipped and our strength suppressed, just to deter even the possibility of soone deciding to cause trouble.

“Do any of you have any questions before you enter?” he asks.

It might be a case of blowing my cover and putting myself in danger, but as a gesture of goodwill toward this establishnt, I decide to ask about it anyway.

“Regarding these cards. I have a Skill that allows to resist its effects. Do I need to do anything special to gain admittance or make sure the security systems don’t recognize as a threat?”

The main furrows his brows. “If I may ask you to wait out here for just a mont while I call a security supervisor; I do believe you might be the first person to ask about such an unusual circumstance.”

It only takes about ten seconds for said supervisor to arrive. The two wordlessly communicate; there could be soone working security with so sort of [ntal Link] Skill like the one Nicholas used to coordinate us all during the battle with Fornieth. More likely, I think there’s so sort of device they’re each using to communicate ntally.

“Please,” the supervisor says to all of us, but in particular. “I shall accompany you inside. All of you, if you would please, follow .”