The sleek black Starbound Express descended into Wonderton Station like a great celestial beast. Its shimmering, obsidian frame floated gracefully above the cobblestone streets, illuminated by the warm, golden light of the station’s antique lamps. The faint hum of its anti-gravity mechanisms reverberated through the station, accompanied by bursts of silvery steam that hissed out like sighs from a dragon. As the train came to a graceful halt, descending down on the station tracks, its doors shimmered with a soft, ethereal light before sliding open with a melodic chime of wind bells.
The station itself was a bustling mix of old-world charm and modern sophistication. Vendors hawked automated toy soldiers and holographic music boxes alongside artisanal pastries. Delicate wrought iron railings framed holographic advertisements for the Starbound Express S3, and street performers played instruments that combined traditional strings with digital loops. Above, an immense, glass-domed ceiling showcased a shifting holographic sky—rosy with the hues of a setting sun, speckled with shimmering stars, and punctuated by shooting comets.
As the the young men began disembarking, the station became filled with a new sort of energy to the artificial noise and bustle of realistic NPC automatons who acted as residents. The automatons, indistinguishable from humans at first glance, bustled about like any ordinary townsfolk. They carried luggage, provided directions, and even engaged the contestants in small talk, their programming designed to maintain the immersive atmosphere of the show.
Above them all, hummingbird drones flitted about, their camera-laden eyes capturing every moment. Clearly, the show had already begun filming in earnest. In fact, filming had started as early as when the contestants stepped onto the Starbound Express.
The absence of human staff but the core production team hidden behind the scenes was intentional—a decision Director Loveless had made himself. And not because according to rumors, he was slightly misanthropic. It was no secret that the 11th key holder had no patience for the biases and unprofessionalism that often came with human crews. Especially in regards to competition related shows where lack of professionalism, prevalence of biases, leaks, and emotional entanglements often plagued similar productions in the past. In this case, the automatons were perfect—efficient, impartial, and tireless.
Being met with such an extravagant set, a chorus of gasps, murmurs, and nervous laughter could be heard from the crowd of newcomers. The contestants, each carrying the weight of their dreams and ambitions, began to step off the train, their emotions written plainly on their faces.
Some emerged with confidence, their heads held high, ready to seize the opportunity of a lifetime. Others moved more tentatively, their eyes wide with awe as they took in the station's grandeur. Still others were particularly anxious, and it was glaringly obvious that they weren't familiar with Ukiyo or even floating cities in general.
Luckily, NPC automatons dressed as concierges—sleek black uniforms with polished brass buttons and gentle, synthesized voices—glided forward to greet the arrivals. Their elegant uniforms gave them the appearance of train attendants from an era long past, though their glowing visors hinted at their modern design.
“Welcome to Wonderton, sir,” one of them said with a bow, extending an arm to help a particularly clueless contestant. “Pleased to be at your service.”
From the crowd, a young man with sun-kissed curls and a blindingly bright smile stepped onto the platform, pausing to take it all in. “Now this is what I call a grand production,” he said, spreading his arms as if embracing the entire scene.
As he sauntered forward, he caught the attention of an NPC concierge. “Welcome, sir,” the automaton said, bowing politely as he did to all disembarking passengers.
“Thank you, my good...bot?” The lively young man replied with a wink, his voice warm and easy. “You’re doing a fantastic job keeping things so smooth. Must be a lot of pressure.”
The NPC hesitated, processing the compliment, then replied, “We aim to please, sir.”
A small group of contestants nearby exchanged looks, their reactions ranging from amused grins to subtle eye-rolls.
“Who does he think he is, the host already?” one of them muttered.
The young man turned, catching the comment with a disarming laugh. “Hey, it’s called making a good impression. You should try it!” He gave one last grin to the hummingbird drones that hovered near him, ensuring that the moment was captured perfectly before moving on.
A tall figure too thin for his frame emerged from the train car next over, carrying an expensive cello case slung over one shoulder. He moved with a quiet grace, his pale features framed by black hair that fell into his dark gray eyes. There was a perpetual air of melancholy that clung to him and unlike the others, he avoided the crowd, keeping his gaze low as though the spectacle around him was too overwhelming.
An NPC concierge approached, bowing deeply. “Welcome, sir.”
He nodded politely, murmuring a soft, “Thank you,” before continuing forward. His fingers tightened slightly on the strap of his cello case as he moved past, his steps measured and deliberate.
“He’s got an air about him, doesn’t he Jasper?” one contestant whispered to another.
The blonde haired, green eyed boy standing next to him looked over. “Yeah, like he’s some kind of tragic poet,” he snorted.
Another boy in their group rolled his eyes and muttered, “Those drones aren't actually hummingbirds, y'know?”
A little ways off, another figure stepped out with a case strapped to his back as well, but this time for a guitar, the worn leather telling a story of countless performances. His stride was casual with hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. His shoulder length glossy dark blonde hair was slightly tousled from the train ride, and soulful lavender eyes darted around, drinking in every detail of the station.
“Wow,” he murmured under his breath, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. His voice was barely audible over the bustle of the platform. He turned in a slow circle, taking in every detail—the holographic sky, the intricate carvings on the station pillars, the sea of contestants around him.
A fellow contestant bumped into him, muttering a half-hearted apology before hurrying away. But he didn’t seem to mind. He was too engrossed in the moment, an amazed gleam in those captivating eyes.
“This is insane,” he said to no one in particular.
From a door towards the back of the train, Mi Sha finally appeared, having waited until the train was less crowded to make his way out.
The platform suddenly seemed to quiet as he stepped off the train, his presence commanding attention without effort. Clad in a soft knit oversized sweater in black, dark-wash jeans that hung loose on narrow hips, and gladiator sandals that trace the elegant lines of his ankles and long, sinewy feet, he moved with an elegance that felt almost like a feline prowl. Black hair caught the light like polished obsidian against pale, almost translucent skin. Equally black eyes, dark yet glittering as the starry night sky, flickered with a stubborn brilliance that refuses defeat.
The only color to stand out starkly against his otherwise monochromatic appearance were defined lips perpetually stained deep red as if kissed by pomegranate seeds. This harsh interplay of saturated colors and his finely sculpted features created a picture of one particularly striking youth—both painfully piercing and hauntingly beautiful, like a blade forged from glass.
He nodded but did not otherwise engage the NPC concierge who welcomed him in conversation, nor did he react to the whispers that followed him.
He didn’t even glance at the hummingbirds that darted about overhead. Instead, his gaze remained distant, as though he was lost in his thoughts.
“Who’s that?” one contestant asked in a hushed tone.
“No idea, but he looks like he stepped out of a magazine, with those airbrushed models and AI idols,” another replied.
Mi Sha’s Rubik’s cube clicked rhythmically in his hand as he walked, the motion more absentminded and habitual than deliberate, the shifting patterns of cosmic colors reflecting the light.
It was at this time a tall, gangly young man with russet hair that seemed to have a mind of its own stepped onto the platform as well. Freckles danced across his face, and he carried himself with an endearing awkwardness that made him stand out in an entirely different way.
But as he stepped onto the platform, he immediately stumbled over the threshold, nearly toppling into a luggage trolley pushed by an NPC concierge.
“Oh! Sorry—sorry!” He stammered, flailing his arms to steady himself. The trolley, stacked precariously with suitcases, wobbled but thankfully didn’t topple.
The NPC tilted his head. “No harm done, sir. Welcome to Wonderton.”
Before he could respond, a soft, low voice sounded behind him. “Careful, now. You don’t want to crush someone’s dreams before the competition even starts.”
The clumsy young man turned to see a striking figure with sharply defined but delicate features walking past him, the faintest trace of amusement playing on those pomegranate kissed lips. He blinked, unsure if he’d just been teased or gently admonished. Either way, a flush suffused his high cheekbones, causing the smattering of freckles across his nose to stand out.
“Who was that?” He muttered to himself, his cheeks feeling too warm even for the heated atmosphere in the station.
As the contestants continued to filter through the station, the NPC concierges began to guide them towards the exit and to the wider world of Wonderton, their synthetic voices blending seamlessly with the hum of conversation.
Above them, the holographic sky shimmered, a comet streaking across the expanse. Perhaps heralding a dazzling new future ahead.
*
AN: What do you guys think of this introduction to the world and its main cast? Is it more smooth and natural?
