We were in the Goblin District, heading toward the central city. The temperature was much more comfortable, but surprisingly, the district was...barren. There were no trees, no wildlife, no life at all – just a stretch of colorless wasteland. That was, until we could see the golden outline of the city floating hundreds of feet off the ground. Suddenly, the wasteland was covered in lush, healthy blue grass that seemed to grow slowly toward the outer borders of the district.
"What happened here?" I wondered aloud.
"The district. I think they might've once used up all its resources to build their city," Za'Fia commented to the others as we flew over the regrowing landscape. "Then, they must've figured out a way to lift their metropolis off the ground so that it wouldn't drain the district of its resources. At least that's what it looks like. I've accidentally destroyed enough landscapes to know what it looks like when one's trying to revitalize itself. What does the brochure say?"
"Oh yeah," I pulled out the brochure. "Let's see...Goblin District: managed by the Goblin Crest, consisting of 3,000 pneumarians and 1,800 klevonians who mostly utilized the element of light, like Michael. The crest's worth is 3 trillion spendil (roughly 8.1 trillion dollars), making it the wealthiest district in Pneuma City. Um...oh, you were right, Za'Fia, the district was once a mine of crystals like PRP, but has long since seen any grow on the ground."
"I think that might be what they want to get back to," I said, scanning the area below us as it blurred by. "It says the central city is called Crysus, a name given due to the state it put the district in when it was created. Crysus has a population of 440 million and a plutocratic government. It has the highest number of wealthy families of any district, and it's always the wealthiest of which is traditionally rewarded with authority over the entire district."
Of course, the Goblin Crest is always the wealthiest 'family', Viraa remarked lightly.
"Its Sacred Guardian is a tiny creature capable of growing to the size of buildings. Apparently, these goblin creatures scurry about the city, stealing food, loose coins, anything not bolted to the floor, really. Still, despite the minor nuisance, they are protected by law and mostly overlooked by inhabitants who normally live in Crysus," I continued.
"Guess, being rich, they don't care if something's stolen from them. They'll just buy another," Za'Fia stated.
"A flawed mentality I've seen many people of wealth carry," Avarice remarked in disappointment.
We finally arrived at the floating city. It was a collection of isolated chunks of the ground floating with what appeared to be golden, crystal structures built on top of them.
"Is that PPR?" I asked in disbelief.
Indeed. Crysus' buildings are 100% made of mined crystals such as pure rupture prisms, Viraa shared with us. Due to the sheer amount of spirit energy within the city's walls, the crystals take on a pure gold radiance instead of one individual's color. This has earned it the nickname "City of Gold."
Inside the aristocratic city, I immediately noticed that the air had a somewhat artificial smell. There was no woody scent from nature, nor was there any smog from city infrastructure. It was just a lack of any particular smells.
"This city...I've never felt this much intemperance in one place," Avarice said as he looked a little overwhelmed. "If I fed from them..."
"You're not feeding from anyone," I remarked before looking at the brochure again. "Apparently, most of the crest's wealth comes from its businesses and the fact that the Goblin Crest owns most of the Sphinx District as well."
I have never been too surprised by this crest's streak of success. Viraa said. Considering their Crest Head always carries the sacred gift of Opportunity, it's almost expected. That particular gift enables them to develop a nearly supernatural knack for being in the right place at the right time, often securing advantageous positions or gaining valuable information.
"That's an ability I can use," Avarice smirked.
"Lucky for us, your Xerox has already hit its limit," Za'Fia said to Avarice, who shrugged and said, "Yes, how unfortunate."
Heh, Viraa laughed. Even if it had not, sacred gifts are not cintracies, so Xerox would not be able to copy the ability.
We continued to fly through the city. Admittedly, I found the city very boring. Thought, beautiful, there was no life to it. No entertainment. No merchants. It was mainly a collection of conglomerates whose sole purpose was to generate more revenue – something Avarice didn't seem bothered by, but Za'Fia and I were bored out of our minds by the time we saw the large crystal palace that was undoubtedly the Crest House.
"Finally, let's meet the Crest Head and get out of here," Za'Fia moaned in disinterest.
As we arrived, we saw some klevonians going about their day in their goblin forms.
"Hey, wanna transform? You can show them you're one of them," Za'Fia antagonized Avarice.
He looked at the klevonians in disgust as they looked surprised to see us land near them.
"I'd rather die," he spat.
"If you pay me enough, I'm sure that can be arranged," said an unknown female voice. The voice came from somewhere in front of us, but we couldn't see anyone. Then, there was a shimmer as the effects of an illusion lifted, and a high-class, well-dressed female klevonian stood before us.
Her eyes glowed with a multicolored light that matched the impressive aura she exuded. I used the biolenses to determine that she was a sage klevonian with the iridescence element, making her a mystic goblin, and another called Crystal Control. Viraa said it allowed the woman to manipulate crystals such as PRP, limiting the power of other cindarians around her, earning her the epithet "The Debilitating Illusionist". Her real name was Circi. She wasn't much of a fighter; most in the Goblin Crest weren't, apparently, but she was a 3-star threat boasting a base EQN of 47,130,000.
"You," Circi looked at Avarice, "what's a problem with goblins?"
"They're grotesque," Avarice doubled down. "One such as myself is unfit to hold such a visage."
"Really? You think pretty highly of yourself, I see," Circi responded, raising an eyebrow as she looked him up and down. "You dress decently. You're presentable. I can see that you value money just as much as we do. Odd, I think you'd fit right in with the rest of us."
"Don't insult me," Avarice glared at her as the ground began to creep with gold. "I'm nothing like the mass of you. You all have relied on the luck of your leader's sacred gift to get where you are. Where I'm from, I've worked hard, planned accordingly, sacrificed a lot, and crushed many to amass my wealth and knowledge."
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