A warm breeze swept across the golden horizon of Vita. Juno stood atop a high balcony, his white hair fluttering in the synthetic wind. The radiant glow of the artificial sun cast long, shimmering shadows behind him as the vast sky above reflected Vita's brilliance.
"Three years…" he muttered under his breath. "Time to see the world again."
A soft chime rang beside him. Tera appeared in her familiar semi-transparent holographic form, floating slightly off the floor with her signature serene presence.
"Where to first, Master?" she asked, her voice calm and slightly playful.
Juno smirked lightly, eyes half-lidded with anticipation. "Anywhere. Everywhere. Surprise me."
Tera nodded. With a motion of her hand, a swirling door of light opened in the air before him, glowing with vibrant threads of energy. Without hesitation, Juno stepped through, his long coat trailing like a ribbon of flame.
—
His boots touched down on soft, fertile soil. The scent of fresh-cut grass and ripened fruit filled the air. He was surrounded by endless green fields dotted with scarecrows and winding paths. Bright trees swayed gently, and laughter from children echoed as they ran between the orchard trees, their hands sticky with fruit.
A harvest festival was being prepared. Banners were strung between wooden poles, tables were stacked high with baskets of crops, and cheerful songs drifted in the air. Locals chatted, trading vegetables and grains with familiar ease.
Juno pulled his hood slightly forward and wandered through the crowd. He passed a farmer showing his young son how to weigh bundles of carrots.
"Balance it right," the man chuckled, "or your customer gets a bonus and you get nothin'."
Juno smiled softly, watching quietly. He overheard two elderly women debating the best way to preserve peaches, and a boy boast about the size of his pumpkin.
This is life as it should be, Juno thought. But even here, their reach is limited.
He paused near a stand overflowing with apples. "Tera," he whispered, "imagine if they could send these across the sea in seconds. Fresh, unspoiled, untaxed."
Tera's voice replied in his earpiece, "Given sufficient logistical data, I can optimize routes and resources for users like them. This island is rich in agricultural knowledge."
Juno nodded. "After you gather enough data, you'll advise people directly. Help them grow, trade, and solve problems they can't even name yet. One more reason to get those books from Ohara."
A nearby girl offered him a small apple. "Mister, you look tired."
He accepted it with a warm smile. "Thank you."
With a last glance at the thriving life around him, he whispered, "Mark this island."
"Marked," Tera responded.
The next door shimmered open, and Juno stepped through.
—
A sudden wave of heat and smoke hit him. He emerged into a village reduced to ruin. Crumbled homes and blackened timber lined the cracked roads. The cries of children and the grunts of exhausted laborers echoed through the ash-filled air.
A woman carried broken bricks in a basket. A man used a rusted crowbar to dig through the rubble, searching for anything salvageable.
Juno walked slowly, observing the devastation. His fists clenched slightly at the sight of scorched toys and burnt-out wells.
He stopped at the sound of quiet sobbing. A young girl was struggling beside a shattered water pump, her hands covered in dirt. The metal handle was warped and useless.
He knelt beside her. "What's wrong?"
"It—it broke… and Mama said we need water to cook," she sniffled.
He smiled gently and held up his hand. A small hiss echoed as his fingertip glowed white-hot, forming into a blade of plasma. He carefully reshaped and fused the broken metal, welding it back into place.
"Try it now," he said, stepping back.
She hesitated, then pumped the handle. Water burst out. Her eyes widened.
"It works! Mama!" she shouted joyfully.
More villagers gathered, some with disbelief, others with tears. One man approached. "Thank you, stranger. What's your name?"
Juno merely nodded and turned away, vanishing into the next portal.
"They still use tech from centuries ago," he murmured. "That's going to change… soon."
—
He emerged in a flash of light onto a polished metallic walkway surrounded by towering skyscrapers. Hovercars zoomed overhead, and glowing signs blinked with digital advertisements. Screens played endless news cycles, many of them warning about the "dangers" of digital trade and unregistered currencies.
Despite the high-tech sheen, the people looked worn. Vendors argued over the rising costs. A merchant was scolding a customer, "I can't lower the price! Taxes are killing me, and transport fees doubled last month."
Juno stepped closer, watching as buyers scanned their IDs. Each transaction included automatic deductions—shipping, security, government tax.
He stopped by a woman selling protein capsules. "Thirty credits for this?" a passerby gasped.
"Take it or leave it," the woman said. "I've got mouths to feed."
Juno looked around. SeaTrade could cut through all this. But fear and propaganda still hold them back.
He whispered, "It seems the plan to neutralize news channels needs to move faster."
Tera's voice responded, "News node saturation at 47%. Suggest acceleration of citizen testimonial campaigns."
"Do it," he said. Then, with a sigh, he turned toward the next portal.
—
The humid scent of volcanic steam filled his nostrils as he arrived at his final stop. Black stone pathways glistened underfoot, carved from cooled magma. The village ahead was alive with warmth—natural hot springs, glowing red lanterns, and buildings built from obsidian and deep wood.
People here moved with quiet confidence. Jewelry made of volcanic glass gleamed on their chests. Drums beat rhythmically near a central spring, where children splashed and laughed.
Juno passed a man roasting meat over a lava vent.
"Evenin', stranger," the man said with a friendly nod. "You look like someone who's been walkin' through storms."
"Something like that," Juno replied.
"You'll want the tavern. Good drink, better stories."
Juno followed the sounds of soft music into a wooden tavern. Open walls let in the breeze. The glow of lanterns danced on the walls.
He sat at a quiet table in the corner. The bartender approached, offering a carved wooden cup.
"Local brew. It bites," the bartender said.
"I've had worse," Juno replied with a smirk.
As he sipped, he listened.
"…poor guy lost everything. The ship burned down just yesterday."
"…his cargo was fruit—gone in smoke. No coin, no backup plan."
"…he's done for."
Juno's red eyes flickered in the low light. He raised the cup slightly, a small grin forming.
"Not quite," he murmured.
Outside, the volcano let out a deep rumble, like a slumbering god stirring in its dreams.
The night was just beginning.