Chương 326: Chapter 325 - Enjoy Yourself

Lucid stepped into the cabin room, his boots making soft contact with the metal flooring. The door slid shut behind him with a hiss, sealing him into the compact space. Frederick was standing at the control panel, his hands resting on the wheel, his gaze fixed on the massive purple void stretching out before them. The expanse was littered with debris and sand, and far below, a massive circular hole seemed to swallow the light itself.

Pillars of ancient design drifted past, remnants of something long forgotten, their surfaces carved with symbols that had lost their meaning to time. Lucid approached, taking note of the environment. The cabin was small and cozy, dimly lit by the soft glow of the control panel and a single lamp mounted on the wall. The light was warm, casting long shadows across the floor. A small teddy bear sat near the edge of the console, its fur worn and faded, as if it had been there for a very long time.

Its button eyes reflected the dim glow, giving it an almost watchful presence. A coat hung on the left wall, its fabric dark and heavy, waiting for someone to wear it. The space felt intimate, almost lived-in, a stark contrast to the vast emptiness outside. Frederick did not turn as Lucid entered, but his shoulders shifted slightly, acknowledging the presence behind him.

"You should be resting," he said, his voice carrying a note of weariness.

"We have been traveling for days. Even you have limits." Lucid moved closer, his eyes fixed on the control panel.

"I could say the same to you. How long have you been standing there?" Frederick let out a breath that was almost a laugh.

"Long enough to memorize every flicker of that panel. Long enough to start seeing shapes in the void that are not there." He gestured vaguely toward the window.

"The mind plays tricks when you stare into nothing for too long." Lucid looked past him, through the thick glass, into the endless purple expanse. He had grown used to it over the weeks, but it still managed to unsettle him. The void was not empty; it was full of things that did not want to be seen. Shadows that moved at the edge of vision. Shapes that dissolved when you looked directly at them. It was a place that resisted observation, that seemed to know when it was being watched.

He asked Frederick about their destination. Frederick explained they were looking for any opening, any passage that might lead them somewhere useful. He said that Lucid must be tired. Lucid nodded, his attention still fixed on the control panel. Frederick explained that this was not his area of expertise, that normally in Vex and neighbouring factions, there were people whose entire purpose was to steer and drive through the celestial tracks.

"They train for years," he said, his voice carrying a note of distant respect.

"They learn the currents, the patterns, the way the void shifts and breathes. It is a skill, not just a job." Lucid stopped. Frederick looked back at him with a tired expression, his gaze drifting to the control panel. It appeared to be late, the dim lighting casting long shadows across his face. The exhaustion was etched into the lines around his eyes, the slight slump of his shoulders. Frederick stood up and said the train was on autopilot.

"It can handle the straight stretches," he explained, "but it needs a hand when things get complicated. Fortunately, the void has been quiet today." Suddenly, an orange glow emanated from the control panel, a pulsing light that seemed to come from somewhere deep within the console. Lucid stepped forward to intercept, his hand reaching out. He said he could handle it. Frederick looked at him, worried.

"Can you control that?" he asked, his voice carrying a note of genuine concern.

"This is not like steering a ship on water. The void has its own rules, its own logic. One wrong move and we could end up anywhere. Or nowhere." Lucid nodded, his fingers already moving toward the controls. He mentioned the train incident, the one in the void, and Frederick remembered it as a distant point in his memory, like something from a far, far away time. He nodded and gave Lucid a suggestion, a reference to a previous encounter, a piece of advice that had been given to him in another life.

Then he made his way back to his usual room, his footsteps echoing softly on the metal floor. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. It was dark now, and the usual purple void had deepened, becoming much darker, almost black at the edges. Lucid remained at the control panel, his gaze fixed on the vast expanse before him. The orange glow had subsided, leaving only the dim light of the console and the faint reflection of his own face in the glass.

Alice emerged from the depths of his consciousness. He had full control of the train now. Alice said that Valen had asked him to go back home. Lucid remained quiet. Home. What was that at this point? He was in some kind of fantasy-like world, a place that felt both familiar and foreign. The Scattered Realms had become his reality, and Earth was beginning to feel like a distant dream, a memory that was slowly fading. Lucid was quiet. Alice also remained quiet.

"The choice is up to you," she said, her voice soft and measured.

"As long as you are alive and well." He felt warmth behind him, a presence that was both familiar and unsettling. It was Alice, her formless essence pressing against his consciousness like a gentle hand on his shoulder. He did not focus on it, and it grew dimmer, as if he had rejected her. Then she disappeared, withdrawing back into the depths of his mind. Lucid looked at the controls. They looked like a gear shift, similar to what he could see in vehicles and cars on Earth.

The familiarity of it was almost comforting, a reminder of a world that had made sense, that had followed rules he understood. He breathed in and took in the environment. It was beautiful, almost ethereal and divine. The glow, the dimness, the way the light seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. He thought about the sun. There seemed to be a light source, a sun, whenever he was on land, but when he went into the void, it was empty. There was almost nothing.

Like the light had faded or existed without an obvious source, a paradox that he had never quite been able to resolve. He looked out and sighed. All he needed to do was push the handle somewhere along a certain point in the void. He leaned back on the seat, the glass surrounding him. There was a small teddy bear near the control panel, a detail he had never noticed before. A coat hung on the left wall of the cabin. He had to choose between two. That disgusting, vile princess or the humble, narcissistic governor.

He literally had to pick his poison. The weight of the decision pressed against him. Elara, the queen who had used him as a pawn, who had smiled when she said checkmate. Or the governor of Tyriana, the one who had seemed kind but was just another self-serving politician, a man whose ambition was hidden behind a mask of humility. Neither option felt right. Neither option felt like the path he wanted to walk. But the void was indifferent to his preferences, and the train would not steer itself forever.

Vex meant returning to Elara's court. It meant walking back into the lion's den, back into the web of politics and power plays that had nearly consumed him. It meant facing the queen who had manipulated him, who had treated him as a piece on her board rather than a person with his own will. The thought of it made something cold settle in his stomach. But Tyriana was not much better. The governor had been kind, yes, but kindness from a politician was just another currency, another tool of influence.

Lucid had learned that lesson the hard way, more times than he cared to count. The governor wanted something from him, even if he had never said it outright. They all wanted something. He thought of the lesser evil, weighing the two against each other. Vex was dangerous, but it was familiar. He knew the rules there, knew the players, knew the stakes. Tyriana was softer, but that softness could be a trap. A comfortable cage was still a cage. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

The hum of the train filled the silence, a steady rhythm that matched the beating of his heart. The void outside pressed against the glass, patient and indifferent. He thought about his friends, about Frederick and Ayame, about the people who had followed him into this madness. They had trusted him, and he had led them through danger and uncertainty, through domains and rifts and the machinations of powers beyond their understanding. He thought about the choices that had brought him here.

The ones he had made and the ones that had been made for him. He thought about the merchant girl in the market, her ghost watching her town move on without her. He thought about Pilt, who had risked everything to save a woman he loved. He thought about Frederick, who had abandoned his empire and his legacy to stand beside a stranger. He opened his eyes. He did not trust the governor, but he trusted Elara less. If he had to choose between two snakes, he would choose the one that had not yet bitten him.

He pushed the handle forward. The train responded instantly, its engines humming with a renewed intensity. The void outside began to shift, the purple light deepening and swirling as they changed course.