Level-Up Apocalypse: Surviving With The Assimilation System
Chapter 77: The Evanescent

By the appearance of the fleeting world, it resembled a medieval era, unmistakably so with the archaic walls that bordered the city and the valley of grass it sat in. He approached the stone bricks, walking along as he looked for an opening to get inside.

As expected, there wasn't exactly some backdoor into the walled-off city for lurking outsiders like himself, though he had wished for one.

Looking up, the very top of the rampart while raindrops trickled down on his cheek, replaceing it to at least be a hundred feet high. He removed his gloves, rubbing his bare palms together while inhaling and exhaling slowly.

'Guess it's time to put these spider abilities to use…As much as I really don't want to,' he thought, holding his hands out.

He carefully placed one palm against the wall, feeling it firmly stick onto the surface. Bringing his other hand up, he stuck to a higher portion, bringing himself up as he carefully repeated the process.

With the rain slicking the wall, he had to keep moving each hand after only a moment as the wetness loosened the adhesive grip.

"Fuuu…." He quietly exhaled through his lips, moving another hand up.

A glance up brought him to replace himself halfway up, though it was only a guess as the angle was deceitful. One hand above the other, forcing his boots to have to rest against the tiniest seams in the wall; it was a tiring experience, activating muscles he didn't usually rely on.

Bringing one hand up again, his fingertips didn't stick against a flat surface, but instead touched a corner.

The summit was reached; he looked up, surprised that he was already at the top, seeming to have gone into almost a trance amidst his climb.

'I made it,' he thought.

Before pulling himself up over the wall, he took a small peek over. It wasn't a direct drop into the city, instead replaceing a parapet; a gap between two walls with a walkway. There was nobody there, at least in the immediate vicinity, bringing him to pull himself up and cover, dropping his feet down.

A quiet breath was released as he could finally relax his arms, staying crouched down, looking both ways before approaching the next wall to finally see into the city itself. He carefully picked himself up, peering over the height of the walls–

'What…?' Finn wondered.

The sight completely threw him off; the old, archaic walls led him to expect a small, medieval settlement, yet he found himself staring into a cityscape of skyscrapers covered in advertisements and busy streets with honking cars.

Each of the skyscrapers surely surpassed the walls, something he would've seen from outside, yet it was as though a different reality laid past the old stone.

It made no sense; captivating him with an impossible look back into a world before the First Impact.

'That's right…I can't apply logic to this place. I just have to keep my wits about me,' he resolved.

Pulling away, he looked to the right, replaceing a wooden trapdoor. He pulled the latch, discovering a ladder leading down directly within the walls, seeing a door at the bottom that led right into the abnormal city.

He got down, placing his feet on the holds of the ladder before beginning his careful descent. While lowering himself through the interior of the wall that seemed to separate two opposing sceneries, he listened to the sounds of car horns and the chatter of people just beyond.

It made him equally nervous and excited, captivated by the idea of some semblance of human civilization still thriving, even if it was in a world not his own.

The final step of the ladder brought his right foot down to the flat, concrete surface of the wall's interior, replaceing himself in front of the single, red door.

He stood in front of it, raising his hand to the doorknob as the sounds of cars driving, people talking in the busy streets–stopped.

It stopped; a dead silence replaced it from one moment to the next. That complete drop of such abundant noise kept him from turning the handle just yet.

["Camouflage"] [4:59]

Before committing to stepping out into the mysterious cityscape, he used the newly-acquired skill to make himself semi-invisible. The handle was turned, pulling the door open as he carefully stepped past its threshold.

It was like walking into a snapshot of the past; a thriving city, untouched by the apocalypse. From the grandiose scale of it all, he likened it to New York City, yet something was off as he slowly walked down the street.

There wasn't a car in sight, nor a single pedestrian like what he swore he saw when standing atop the wall. It was a ghost town.

Everything was just slightly "wrong": the letters of billboards were gibberish that only resembled English at a passing glance; a vibrant advertisement stretching the surface of a skyscraper showcased a movie of what looked like a web-slinging hero, only different–"Spider-Guy."

Pizza was called Gizza; coffee was presented in plastic bags, not mugs; there were three lanes on the street instead of just two.

'It's all wrong–what is this place?' He questioned.

A slow walk through the silent, uncanny city left him in the middle of an intersection, looking up at the buildings, replaceing that there was no rain here, but the peculiar sky remained, though changed; skyscrapers hung upside down above him, their glassy forms reflecting the city below.

"Is it nostalgic to you?"

The voice brought him to turn around with his dagger raised, not recognizing the man who posed the question. He found somebody standing a few meters behind him, though not facing him, instead with their hands tucked in the pockets of their trench coat.

The stranger had an unusual complexion; his complexion, along with his attire was black-and-white, as if taken out of a grayscale film.

"What? Who are you?" Finn asked, keeping his fingers wrapped around his dagger.

"You want a name? I don't have one," the stranger answered with a brooklyn accent, finally turning his gaze towards him.

The black-and-white man didn't appear to be much older than his thirties, with dark bags beneath his eyes and unkempt, white hair.

"It's like your world, isn't it?" The man asked, looking at the tall buildings.

"--" Finn remained silent.

"It's not your world though. This is where I'm from. Dozens, maybe hundreds of versions before your own," The black-and-white man remarked.

"What're you talking about?" Finn asked.

From what he could tell, the peculiar person wasn't hostile, at least not outwardly. Still, he couldn't understand what he was looking at; not the city nor the man that looked placed out of time.

"You don't have to pay me any mind. I'm just a wandering soul, drifting from world to world. Maybe you're just dreaming right now. Peacefully asleep, stirring up weird dreams," the stranger said.

"Stop with the bullshit. Just tell me what's–" Finn demanded.

Just as he attempted to take a single step towards the mysterious figure, everything blacked out. It wasn't as though he went unconscious, at least not entirely; in that darkness, devoid of physical sensation, thoughts still streamed through his mind.

"--You can't see ahead of yourself anymore, can you? Blindly following the path in front of yourself, thinking if you just keep going down it, everything will work out. Nothing will change if you stay that way. What I'm saying is, you better take the next train out of here, because there won't be another one."

Against his skin, the light taps of raindrops landing on him stirred his consciousness. From what felt like a deep slumber, his eyelids parted. He found himself looking up at the reverse land in the sky as droplets of rain befell his body, laying down on the ground.

Picking himself up, he found himself not in the distorted city, but a small, rundown town; old buildings left charred and decayed; it looked like a settlement from a medieval time. He could see the walls that surrounded the remnants of the charred town, though unsure of how he ended up there from what he last recalled.

'...Was I dreaming all that up? I mean, a city like that in these walls…of course it wouldn't have been real,' he thought.

None of it explained to him how he ended up passed out in the middle of the place he was supposed to carefully scout. It left him perplexed as he stood there, questioning if he was attacked and didn't remember, or if it was something wrong with him.

"What's wrong with me?" He mumbled to himself while rubbing his head.

The remnants of the old town was what he turned his attention to, replaceing nothing but the rain occupying it. It didn't seem as if anything remained but the shell of civilization–burnt shops, crumbled homes.

Not much different from the state of his own world, he found. He didn't know how long he had been out, bringing him to recall his companions waiting outside of the town walls.

'Right…don't want to worry them,' he thought.