I should probably introduce myself.
My name is Sejak. I grew up in the second level of Novgorod. After the media buzz about building the third level and bringing the city into the future, I became very interested in the city's past. What was it like living here in the days of single-leveled cities?

My first few expeditions came back unfruitful. Descending the pillars supporting the city, even by elevator, was time-consuming. The few I met were those who could not afford to move to the level above and were forced to live in run-down houses, walk stench-filled undrained streets, and breathe polluted air. The only upside was that the city above shielded them from the unrelenting winter cold and snow.

The residents were, strangely, pleased with their way of life. Despite appearing to be a sprawling city, it seemed as though everybody knew each other. Not one hesitated to invite me inside their homes and recollect stories about the city's past, the turmoil from the construction of the second level, and the exoduses.

However, much of the past had been forgotten. It didn't help that I couldn't spend more than four hours at a time exploring since the winter days were so short, made only shorter by the immense transit down from and back up to the second level.

One question that others often asked me to start conversations was, "are you from the modernist town?" I initially thought they meant the second level, but no. Apparently, a part of town on the first level was being maintained even today. After three voyages to downtown, I resolved that my next one shall be to the modernist town.

Since it was near the edge of town, I could take the express elevator near the city's edge to the old train station. What took hours now took minutes, even after taking a train to the area and walking an unreasonable distance.

The town wasn't well-developed by any means. Utilities were scarce (it was my first time using an outhouse in ages!), and protection from the wind and snow was rare. Buildings were just as abandoned as downtown but well-kept.

As I walked around, there was much more to learn about the city's history. Plaques detailing the golden era of what would become the modernist town were scattered on old monuments, works of people long gone.

Most peculiar, though, was that everything in this area seemed to be half (or in some places, a quarter) as old as the main town. That meant that there were people, albeit very aged, who were around during the youth of this area. Finding one was my next objective.

I couldn't find one that day, but I stumbled upon many others. A bluegrass musician, a gem-enthused wolf, a blacksmith, and a traveler like me, to name a few. All were welcoming and friendly. One in particular, though, struck a chord with me. He was a wizard, he claims, from a long-lost lineage of mages who have since abandoned their art and moved to the second level of the city.

He extended his hand and asked me, "You are quite an interesting fellow. Will you join us?"

"I will," I said and shook his hand firmly.

"It's a promise, then." He grinned.

Three times per week, between my stressful and unrelenting work, I would find time to visit the modernist town. I bought a small house, decorated it, and met even more people: multiple artists passing through, some who stayed, a historian, and a popcorn lover.

The town was comparatively well-maintained because of the efforts of the founder, who was still alive and slaving away improving this town in between his job on the second level of the city. As I talked to him more, I realized there used to be many more by his side in building this site, especially one who maintained the utilities. As an electrician, I figured I could at least lend a hand and patch some problems in the town.

Many people, tired of the state of the town, opted to move to the second level finally, but many came to fill in their place. These newcomers were even more perplexing than the original residents, the most notable of which was a sentient tiger.

There was a lot we experienced together: we told stories, we made art, we competed, we learned magic (from the wise wizard), and we fought off an infestation of thorny roses. (The last part was the most interesting; I became so adept at spotting the roses that I was gifted a role in the police!)

My friendship with everybody in town, especially the wizard, deepened. He shared deep, dark secrets from his history that only his inner circle knew. In turn, I shared some of my secrets.

Looking back, these were the moments of my time there that I cherished the most. I learned so much about what it meant to be human, how to make friends, and other things you don't learn if you don't stop and take a breath.

Eventually, though, the flow of new people dried up about a decade after I first visited the town. Only the occasional village idiot would make themselves at home here while the town's most prominent figures packed up and left for the second level for good. The construction of the second level had picked up, and many townspeople left for the increased number of well-paying jobs, the improved living conditions, and the hustle-bustle of a city.

It'd be a lie to say that I didn't miss that life either, but I stayed to accompany those who couldn't make the journey upwards. I was some townspeople's only source of company, and I had used my knowledge to invent solutions to the problems that the townspeople had suffered for ages. I feared what would happen if I left.

One fateful day, a shadowy figure appeared at a café that I frequent. I thought nothing of it, but I kept my senses about me.

After ordering, I sat down to realize that he was across from me. Before I could reach into my pocket, he revealed himself. Smiling back at my shocked expression was the bearded face of the ringleader, my boss's boss's boss.

"What are you-"

Before I finished, he shushed me. "You've done good work here, Sejak. It's rare to see one of my Children do such good in the world.
"You have repeatedly proven your worth, so I believe you're finally ready to carry out your mission for the Institute."

My eyes flick over to my left wrist. A thin, purple, braided bracelet glinted back at me.
"Dear Ringleader, what is my mission?"

He motioned for me to lean in. I obliged, and he pressed his thumb into my forehead.

My vision was filled with a series of bright flashes. Brilliant, graphic images were burned into my memory.

"That is your mission. Fulfill it for the Institute."

I winced, and he was gone without a trace when I glanced at where he was sitting.

My new mission required me to abandon my post in the modernist town. I bid everyone goodbye, but the most painful were the people that I thought I would never be able to see again. To ease my pain, I gifted the wizard the lifetime pass for the express elevator I used so frequently to visit the town and made him promise to see me as frequoftene could.

As quickly as it started, it stopped. I packed all my things and moved shop to the second story again. The bright visions burned into my memory began to unfold, as horrifying as they were.

The semicollapsed half-constructed third level now prominently pokes out of the Novgorod skyline.

If only I could release my power to free that old wizard of his curse instead.

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Inspired by Girls' Last Tour, In the Land of Leadale, Lycoris Recoil, and my time here on Paint.

Thank you, everybody, who has kept this internet subculture alive!