Odyssey Nexus

Jalen's POV

Jalen's eyes snapped open.

For a moment, he wasn't sure where he was. His body felt heavy, like he had just been pulled out of deep water. The ceiling above him was unfamiliar—wooden beams, slightly cracked, with a dim lantern swaying gently from the rafters. A cool breeze drifted in through a nearby window, carrying the scent of damp earth and something faintly herbal.

He turned his head slightly, wincing at the stiffness in his neck. He was in a bed—rough sheets, a firm mattress. His clothes had been changed, replaced with a loose white tunic, and as he pulled his hand free from under the blanket, the golden glyphs from his Anima Nexus still faintly pulsed on his forearm.

So… it wasn't a dream.

He flexed his fingers, watching the markings shift and settle beneath his skin. They felt natural now, like they had always been a part of him.

"My soul has its own damn tree," he muttered. "And that old man really thinks I'm gonna be a problem?"

A smirk tugged at his lips, but the weight of the conversation with the old man still lingered. The warning. The not-so-subtle threat. The way his power had nearly overwhelmed him the second he touched his Nexus.

Jalen exhaled and sat up slowly. His body didn't ache—if anything, he felt… stronger, more aware. His senses stretched out, picking up the faint sound of voices outside the door and the crackle of a fire somewhere nearby.

Lucio. The others.

His smirk faded as his focus sharpened. He needed to find them, to figure out what had happened while he was unconscious. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, feeling the cool wooden floor beneath his feet.

It was time to get some answers.

Lucio's POV

The heart of Veyport buzzed with life.

Cobblestone streets stretched beneath sleek, glowing street lamps, their soft white light blending seamlessly with the warm glow of old-fashioned lanterns hanging from shopfronts. Buildings, a mix of stone and glass, towered modestly—some with wooden shutters and ivy-covered walls, others with digital signboards displaying neon-colored text in a language only the locals could read. The town square pulsed with movement, a fusion of traditional merchants in handwoven tunics and travelers dressed in sleek, synthetic fabrics that shimmered under the sun.

But despite all its charm, Lucio knew Veyport for what it truly was—a city of thieves.

He stood in the middle of it all, arms crossed, scanning the bustling streets. His deep-blue jacket, reinforced with sleek armor plating on the shoulders, made him stand out among the crowd. The looks he got were familiar—curious, wary, sizing him up. He had seen them before when he first arrived in this world.

But none of that mattered.

Jalen still hasn't woken up. Two weeks and nothing.

Lucio exhaled sharply, adjusting the strap of his combat gauntlet as his gaze flicked across the crowd. He had tried everything—doctors, healers, wizards—each one promising a solution, each one failing.

Damn it. Two weeks and not a damn thing. What else am I supposed to do?

The thought burned in his head, frustration curling in his fists. The sounds of hover carts zipping down the stone pathways, the scent of freshly baked bread mixed with the sterile tang of machinery—it all felt too surreal.

We're really not on Earth anymore, huh?

A flicker of movement caught his eye—someone slipping between the crowd. A hooded figure, watching him from a distance before disappearing into an alleyway.

Lucio's gut twisted.

Great. Either I'm being followed, or I just found my next problem.

With a low sigh, he muttered, "Alright, let's see where this goes." And with that, he pushed forward, weaving through the crowd.

The weight of his armor slowed him down—too many eyes, too much noise. If someone was tailing him, he'd need to shake them first. As much as he loved the protection, it made him an easy target.

Gritting his teeth, he started unbuckling pieces of his armor as he walked, shedding it discreetly. The plated shoulder guards—gone. The reinforced bracers—left behind on a vendor's cart. The heavy cloak—draped over the back of a passing traveler. By the time he turned a corner, he was nearly unrecognizable, blending into the crowd like any other weary traveler.

He glanced around.

Had he lost them?

A prickle ran down his spine. No. Someone was still watching him.

Lucio tensed, instincts screaming. His eyes flicked up to the rooftops, then the alleyways, then—

Behind him.

A hooded man stood too close, a glint of steel in his hand.

"That's a nice weapon," Lucio said, voice even as he took a subtle step back. "If you know how to use it. But I'm the wrong guy to try it on." He shifted into a loose fighting stance. "How about we talk this over so you don't get your ass kicked?"

The man tilted his head, unconcerned. "No thanks. Just want your money."

He stepped forward.

Lucio swung, fast—

But the man vanished.

Lucio's fist cut through empty air. His heart lurched as his eyes darted around, scanning the alleyway for any sign of him.

What the hell?

"Up here!"

Lucio's gaze snapped upward.

The hooded man stood atop the roof, casually twirling Lucio's wallet between his fingers. A smug grin peeked out from beneath his hood. "Thanks for the gift, stranger. And welcome to Veyport."

Lucio's stomach dropped.

"GET BACK HERE!"

He lunged, fingers grazing the ledge—

But the thief was already gone, vanishing into the city like a shadow.

Lucio stood there, panting, hands clenched into fists. He turned to the bustling streets, expecting some kind of reaction—but the people of Veyport barely spared him a glance. A few smirked, others chuckled, but no one looked surprised.

To them, this was just another day. Another sucker getting played.

Lucio's frustration boiled over. "Are you kidding me?! No one's gonna help?!"

A passing merchant scoffed. "Welcome to Veyport, kid. Get used to it."

Lucio's fists trembled at his sides. This wasn't just bad—it was really bad. That money had been all they had left. No food, no lodging, and worst of all—no way to buy new weapons or supplies.

His stomach twisted as he turned and stormed back toward the brothel, the weight of failure pressing down on him.

He shoved open the door to their room, his frustration spilling out.

"Jalen!" His eyes swept the empty bed, his pulse spiking. "Did he wake up? Where is he? What the hell is even going on anymore?!"

From the ceiling beam above, Jalen dropped down with a grin.

"Hey, dude! Why do you sound so bummed out?" He stretched his arms with a yawn. "Also, did you bring any food? I'm starving."