A New Beginning

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A pitch-black wall encircled the enormous, dark “monument”—a steep triangle, its shape reminiscent of a pyramid with altered proportions. It must have stood over seven hundred meters tall, its exterior clad entirely in translucent black glass of unknown origin.

This was the Black Coffin, a beacon of hope in the apocalypse. Light shone from within the skyscraper: the sacred radiance that cleanses the soul.

Gazing upon this sight, I was overwhelmed with emotion, my heart pounding with excitement.

I came, I saw, I conquered.

I had walked through desolate ruins, through the lairs of demons, through the depths of darkness and the deadly abyss of the deep sea. Now, like a conqueror, I arrived at this place. The people living in comfort within the Black Coffin could never imagine the hardship I had endured; in spirit and in body, they were far beneath me. I was the shepherd, they the flock; I was the conqueror, they the commoners; against my strength, they were powerless; before my intellect, they could only bow their heads in submission.

Looking at this city—soon to heed my every command, soon to fall under my leadership—I could not help but be moved to tears.

Lamia said, “What are you staring at? Get off the vehicle with me.”

“Yes, my dear commander,” I replied.

Stepping out of the carriage, I saw that the wall was nearly half again as tall as the Yune transport. On the ramparts, rangers trained their guns on me, shouting, “On your knees! Get down now!” “Move away from the armored vehicle!” “Who the hell are you?”

I was furious. Was this how the future ruler should be greeted?

Lamia raised her head and declared, “I am Lamia! By order of the Consul, I have returned the Yune transport!”

The commander among the rangers said, “That’s her, and Faga! Stand down! The rangers have returned!”

The Yune transport could not yet enter the city walls, but it was impervious to the elements and no one could drive it away. We climbed down, meeting a group of rangers who approached us, gazes filled with curiosity and awe as they looked at the Yune.

These ignorant simpletons, these frogs at the bottom of a well—behold the gifts I, Fishbone, bring you; you should be weeping with gratitude.

The lead commander was named Stern. His rank seemed lower than Lamia’s—this hidden truth, sharp as I am, I discerned from his demeanor and the way he addressed her as “Commander.”

He asked, “Commander, where are your people?”

Lamia replied, “All were lost, except for Salvador and Betty. They were all heroes. I will ensure their families are well compensated.”

Stern looked at me and asked, “Who is he?”

Lamia said, “He is my husband.”

Stern and the other soldiers were stunned. “What?”

Lamia remained calm and said, “He is my husband. We are engaged, and now we are going inside to register it.”

I sensed their displeasure as they looked at me. After all, I had taken away their beloved commander; they were like children resentful of a mother’s remarriage, nursing silent grudges against the stranger.

I decided to play it low-key, show no affection, to avoid further resentment. So I simply took Lamia’s hand and kissed it lightly.

Now, I feared, they must be wishing me dead.

Stern shouted, “Commander, you’re young and naïve—don’t be fooled! This stranger…”

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Lamia shook her head. “This is my personal affair! It’s none of your business. Now step aside, I’m going into the Black Coffin!”

Stern and the others turned to Salvador, who had followed behind. “Sammy, talk some sense into your sister. Are you just going to let her be taken in by this stranger…”

Salvador said, “Old Stern, this is my sister’s decision. Betty and I both give them our blessing.”

I sighed, patting Salvador’s shoulder. “Since ancient times, a new arrival always trumps the old playmate. Besides, I am both the old and the new, so don’t fight it.”

Stern snapped, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I didn’t really know—seemed like some old saying from a bygone era.

They watched as I walked away with Lamia, trying not to show how uncomfortable I felt under their glares. I held Lamia even tighter. I could almost hear them grinding their teeth.

Faga used her surface-level telepathy and said, “After you and Lamia enter the Black Coffin, go to the Resident Admission Office on the thirtieth floor. Just give Fishbone Longinus as your name and you’ll get permanent access up to the thirtieth floor. After that, go to the Mercury Trade Company on the same floor; with your pass, you can open an account with a two-million credit limit. Ten credits equals one gold coin. Withdraw as few gold coins as you can to avoid suspicion.”

My lifelong dreams were not misguided—this place was paradise. As soon as I arrived, I had a house, a woman, and money. I wondered if I’d become a slothful good-for-nothing from indulging myself. No, I shouldn’t wonder; that’s exactly what I was about to become.

Faga spoke again, “You’ll have new assignments from me at any time, so keep training and don’t lose your edge.”

I was shaken. “But I’ve suffered enough already.”

Faga retorted, “You’ll get used to it. Remember, it’s best not to refuse me, or you won’t last long here.”

In my mind: “Ungrateful little brat.”

Faga replied, “You’re welcome.”

Lamia explained that the town had thirteen thousand residents, with another ten thousand registered in the skyscraper. Rent in the building was exorbitant; the town was much cheaper, but only those in the skyscraper could avoid health hazards, unlike those in the town.

I observed Black Coffin Town, but it was vast, its full extent impossible to take in at a glance. This place had once been called Silicon Valley: skyscrapers once dotted the land, but all were now in ruins. The townsfolk built simple huts among the remains, using materials similar to those of the Black Coffin, centering their communities around particular ruins.

Living in the town’s huts helped neutralize airborne radiation and mostly prevented mutation. Staying in the ruins was free, but only self-deceivers lived there, letting their health deteriorate and lives shorten. The ruins bred crime, beggars, and vagrants, and dangers still lurked—people often disappeared.

In other words, the real population of Black Coffin Town far exceeded the official figures—many likely hid in the campuses of these ancient tech giants, engaging in secret dealings and probing into the secrets of the last century.

The Consul had grand ambitions, dreaming that the Black Coffin would one day lead humanity to renaissance, but for now, there weren’t enough people. Even the rangers had not rooted out all the town’s dangers.

Only then did I recall I was here to be a ranger, not merely to live off Lamia. The realization hit me hard, leaving me uneasy.

As we drew near, I saw that the Black Coffin was even more enormous than it appeared: a majestic quadrilateral pyramid, its base eight hundred meters long and wide—like a medium-sized airport tarmac. Each side had an entrance; the one we approached was guarded by two figures in black armor, as imposing as medieval knights, heavily armed, exuding a quiet menace.

Lamia whispered, “They are the Arbiters—of extraordinary status, treated better than I am. They are not ordinary guards, but the face of the Black Coffin.”

I said, “They can’t be better fighters than you.”

Lamia smiled. “Of course not. But they are armed to the teeth—the elite among elites. Best not to provoke them.”

One of the Arbiters said, “Ranger Lamia, the leadership has received word of your success. Congratulations. Your deeds will be remembered in history.”

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Lamia bowed to them. “Thank you. None of this would have been possible without Faga and my subordinates’ dedicated support.”

The Arbiter asked, “Where is Wade Kowsin?”

Lamia replied, “Old Wade died heroically in battle. He was brave and honorable. I brought back his body—it’s inside the Yune transport—he deserves a proper burial.”

I thought, “He really was a tough guy—he’s frozen stiff now.”

The Arbiter pointed at me. “Stranger, state your name.”

“Fishbone Longinus. I’m new here,” I replied.

The Arbiter pressed something on his helmet, text flickered in his visor. “Your documents have already been approved. Please proceed to the thirtieth floor to collect your access pass. Welcome to the rangers.”

Lamia laughed in surprise. “But I haven’t even submitted his application yet.”

The Arbiter replied, “Strange. His status is listed as your husband. When did you two get engaged?”

A blush colored Lamia’s cheeks. “That’s correct—it happened on the way back. But why was everything processed so quickly?”

Both Arbiters said in unison, “We wish you happiness.”

I was extremely grateful, feeling these two black knights were like guardian angels—symbols of humanity’s virtue, justice, and better nature.

We entered the gates, passing along a fifty-meter white corridor. Looking around, I saw cameras and security bots hidden overhead, countless gun barrels trained on us from the shadows.

If these machines made a mistake, we’d be riddled with bullets. But Faga could quietly control them, so perhaps they were on my side.

The grand hall was resplendent, its design both ingenious and grand, combining the feel of a metropolitan lounge and an art museum, yet more akin to the great halls of gods in ancient myth.

For a moment, I was swept away, falling on my knees to kiss the immaculate black-and-white floor.

This was my new home, my long-dreamed-of haven, the end of my journey, the beginning of my path to power.

Lamia laughed and pulled me up. “See over there? That elevator leads to the basement commercial street—restaurants, shops, an amusement park.”

“Just like the last century?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Lamia. “The Consul remembers those good old days and modeled it on classical styles, but… it’s mostly empty, just for show.”

What struck me most in the hall were the elevators—shafts of every kind, each heavily guarded.

Lamia explained, “Floors two to twenty-nine are for the commoners. Floors thirty to fifty house the middle classes and offices. Floors fifty-one to sixty-five are the ranger barracks. Sixty-six to eighty are laboratories and research facilities. Eighty-one to ninety are noble residencies. Ninety-one to one hundred hold the Elder Council and the assembly halls, and the very top is the Consul’s residence. Each area is strictly segregated. Each elevator only reaches its assigned floors; any violation is punished by immediate expulsion, or even death.”