Heralds of Act X were amongst the lower ranking personnel in their stringed hierarchy. They were the servants of higher powers and acted as the mediators between the commandments of the Script and its ‘followers’.

Papilia mentally put ‘followers’ in quotation marks because she had once lived in the underbelly of the Nex Megalopolis. While life was akin to a paradise along the surface: the Epiderma Layer; the Subderma layer was a world of misery born from the Ateliers and the Dungeon entities.

It was a layer sandwiched between the Epiderma Layer and the fabled Derma Layer. In reality, it served more as an extension of the surface, where waste in the form of fluids, magic and minor technology fell into the hands of criminal Syndicates and the struggling masses.

The Subderma layer was equally as deep as it was shallow. For instance, the City of Spades was a place where both layers meshed and become indistinguishable from one another. The Subderma layer was also known as the Well. Many of Caldera Industries’ instruments were installed within the Well to keep the Nex Megalopolis afloat – their mega city of 5 major, Atelier-run Cities.

The City of Diamonds, ran by the Golden Index: an Atelier that ran the Guilds and kept all information of its citizens.

The City of Hearts, ran by ImpulseWorks: her Atelier that served as one of the largest Nex producers for the Ateliers.

The City of Spades, ran by Scarlet Logic: a military Atelier that hunted and gathered information regarding Corrupted beyond even the most equipped Site’s capabilities.

The City of Clubs, ran by Inflow Direct: the Atelier that produced the potions, Elixirs and Serums.

And finally, the City of Strings, ran by Act X: the Atelier that interpreted the strings of fate, and could predict events long before they even occurred.

There were several more Ateliers out there, but these were the major five that ran the cities she lived in.

And having lived within the City of Strings, Papilia deeply resented the heads of Act X.

‘Cook a cake and feed it to the neighbor’s cat.’

‘Mix a batch of powdered cement into the bread batter of the nearest orphanage.’

‘Paint the streets picturesque with the 3rd person you meet at the second intersection.’

‘Read a book whilst flaying exactly 2 kilograms of flesh from one’s thigh…’

She had witnessed the power of the Scripts, and those that enforced their heinous commandments. Papilia luckily never fell prey to the temptations of the Script, and the promises of protection from Act X whilst living within her hell.

She wore a dangerous face suddenly, her eyes narrowing sharply as she followed Aisyle through the cold corridors.

Emvita, the underground, here – it’s all the same.

For a moment, she felt her heartbeat resonate with the ticking of her pocket watch, which sat in her breast pocket. The Site groaned unexpectedly as they neared the Reception. As the final steel door pried itself open, Aisyle momentarily froze and offered her a piece of her mind.

“Do you believe there is a purpose to the suffering? I like to think that nothing has changed both then and now. The magic and machines. The flesh and the soul.”

“Did you also grow up in the Subderma layer? The City of Strings? O-Or in Emvita?” Papilia wondered. “Clockwork machines were rough. I knew many people that died to them growing up.”

“I didn’t live there myself. But I recall experiencing it as though I did.” Aisyle answered with a cryptic tongue, as per usual. “Follow. The Herald awaits. Do your best to restrain yourself from showing disdain. Although, I doubt they would care.”

When the slab of steel locked into place above, they strode into the vibrant chamber of the Reception and was immediately greeted by a new face that manned the front desk.

“Hello~! Overseer! Navigator!” The Receptionist was a green-haired woman wearing a clean two-piece suit. Her fluffy, wolf-like ears wagged alongside her tail as she leaned over the desk, waving wildly at the two.

“Pleasure to meet you.” Papilia kindly greeted her with a nod, her eyes sparkling.

“You’re late.” Aisyle coldly uttered. “Namesake. Now.”

“Virgilla. Receptionist of this hell – I mean, this Site!” She obviously wasn’t the most disciplined person around, but considering she was a Receptionist, Papilia didn’t mind it all that much.

Aisyle, however, ominously glared at her with sealed eyes.

“D-Do you two know each other?” Papilia questioned.

“Hmmm. Nope. Don’t know her.” Virgillia shrugged, peeling herself away. “Overseers are aaaaalllllll the same.”

“Do you job well, and there will be no complications.” Aisyle warned before striding onwards to the elevator. “Dear Navigator. It seems that we have been given rather unsavory personnel to deal with.”

“U-Um – what’s the problem with our Receptionist?” She asked, nodding to Vergillia before rushing to Aisyle’s side. “Hey. Don’t tell me you have a problem with her? We can’t be having conflict this early on.”

“Did it seem that way?” Aisyle tilted her head. “I merely urged her to do her job. Is that a cause for concern?”

“… Right.”

“I will therefore say the same to you. I’m sure you’re aware that an ill-minded Employee can significantly halt the production of Nex. Do not forget our purpose.”

“Nex first. Everything else comes second. I know.” Papilia uttered, moving into a separate room near identical to the Reception, only that it was much smaller in scale.

And it was here where two figures stood idly, expecting their arrival. One was a man in an orange-blue suit, and the other was a man with grey hair tied into a ponytail, his eyes sealed permanently shut much like Aisyle’s.

His robes were blue, elegant, and heavily exuded a religious theme. In one hand was a crystal plaque, and in the other an ethereal Script made from indestructible thread. The excess of his robes never touched the ground, as though they were held up by invisible strings.

And on his back, and on a patch found on his shoulder was the insignia of Act X.

“Exactly on the 3,432th breath, on the 52,324th heartbeat, I would meet with the Overseer and Navigator of Site G-Z7.”

He recited from the Script, inhaling the air in reverence.

“Aaaaah. How it knows. How it guides. Truly, there is none more benevolent than the strings. O Overseer. O Navigator.

Shall I recite your predictions for tomorrow?”

Needless to say, this person was a Herald of Act X.