The closer Elena and her guide drew to the center of the Confluence, the more homogenous the built environment became.

While the main road more or less stayed the same, never once diverging from its original course, the side streets branching off now were constructed with the same consistent stone tiles and paving. Meanwhile, a vast majority of the buildings had now taken on an appearance reminiscent of Earth’s 19th century European architecture. Not only that, but they seemed to be increasing in scale as well.

Directing her eyes forwards, Elena felt that even the name of the “Central Hall” was vastly underwhelming, failing to capture the size of merely the shadow it cast.

It seemed more apt to compare it to a multi-layered cake, featuring a massive cylindrical base that supported three smaller tiers above it. Eight large towers that surpassed even the height of the highest tier were positioned evenly around it, supposedly marking the cardinal and ordinal directions.

Before they could even arrive at the front door, a grand staircase positioned in the front of the building already forced them to begin their ascension. Along its sides, manmade waterfalls ran down its entire length before being filtered off somewhere beneath the streets.

Elena, however, found her eyes drawn to the intricately carved marble sculptures on either side of the steps.

“Who are they?” she asked, gesturing towards the statues.

“The greatest individuals of the Confluence’s recorded history,” the boy replied. “These statues were made in their likeness, ranging from overseers to adventurers, inventors to heroes, and even members of the Nine.”

“The Nine?”

As soon as those words left her mouth, she realized what group of people that title referred to.

“Up there,” he said, pointing towards the largest statues, towering beside the door like eternal guardians of the Central Hall.

On the left stood the very embodiment of a knight—a man clad in armor equipped with a sword and shield. His beard gave a distinct edge to his jaw, and his eyes were carved slightly squinted, as if he were trying to gaze somewhere beyond the horizon.

“The First of the Nine, and the first to have traversed beyond the First Frontier. And to his right,” he paused. 

Elena squinted at the last statue. 

It was by no means difficult to see, but what caused her scrutiny was the air of mystery surrounding the woman it depicted. She wore a hooded cloak that shadowed her eyes and covered the majority of her body, and the part of her face that was visible seemed fairly vague as well, as if even the ones who sculpted her didn’t quite know her original appearance.

Yet, for a moment, Elena could’ve sworn she glimpsed a gentle smile that vanished the moment she turned back.

“...the Second of the Nine. Her records succeed most of the rest, but her rank was acknowledged due to being the only other to cross the First Frontier.”

They now made their way across the landing until the boy paused before the door, instructing Elena to do the same. He opened his palm towards it, mouthing some code word or phrase, but she couldn’t sense any flow of Possibility coming from him.

Just then, a shiver ran down her spine.

It didn’t feel like intimidation or fear, but her instincts could barely tell her that she was being watched.

After a few seconds of silence, the doors slowly began to open with a low rumble, spreading vibrations through even the ground where they stood.

Inside, the tiers of the Central Hall appeared to be held up by gigantic pillars, situated around a circular opening in the ceiling that provided a view to the next floor. Through that opening, an enormous chandelier adorned with sparkling jewels provided lighting for the windowless atrium, from which various smaller halls branched off.

A constant echo of footsteps resounded from the marble flooring.

Upon reaching the very center, the boy directed Elena’s attention towards the hall directly on the right, “I am unable to accompany you any further. Please make your way towards the stairs at the end of that hall and to the uppermost layer. Madam Overseer will be waiting for you there.”

Elena nodded and thanked the boy before proceeding alone.

As she climbed the floors, the presence of others became more and more sparse, until on the final stretch of stairs, her own footsteps were the only remaining sound. Rather than statues, the decorations here were paintings, although it was difficult for her to discern whether they were merely artistic depictions or actual portrayals of history.

After the first flight, however, she had already stopped paying attention to the rather overwhelming designs, instead focusing her perceptions on analyzing the surrounding Possibility.

She now arrived at a singular hall that led inwards from the stairs, directing her towards another set of doors, this time without any branching paths.

It wasn’t just a throwaway suspicion from before. Up here, she now had absolute certainty:

“Something is definitely watching me.”

It reminded her of that conference hall back on Earth—countless pairs of eyes whose observance bore directly into her. This time, however, there were no eyes.

“It’s like I’m being read…”

Her train of thought halted when she heard slow footsteps approaching from behind, but when she turned, there was no one but an old woman. She kept her eyes closed as she walked, a kind smile plastered across her face, and her back slightly hunched.

“Ah—just an ordinary person,” Elena thought as turned back to face the door—

“Wait—!”

Within a fraction of a second, an overwhelming mass of Possibility had manifested behind her, condensing into an orb no larger than a water droplet.

“Pierce.”

The gaze of that energy homed in on her—an infinitesimally thin beam of pure light.

“Creator!” she shouted, an urgent invocation as she whipped around.

Shing! The familiar spear found its way into her hands and bisected the attack, causing its twin trails to shatter the door behind her.

“Oh? I see… very good!” the woman remarked, her own eyes now wide open, assessing Elena’s stance. 

Her gaze was the same as those invisible eyes.