Chapter 2 – Revelations

I was now standing directly on the wide main terrace that led to the city. And what I saw made me pause.

The city – once utopian, possibly beautiful and a marvel of architecture and technology – was in a state that I could only describe as an abandoned battlefield. The sand is everywhere, it had blown through the streets, piled up in the corners, stuck to facades and crawled through open doors. The buildings themselves... the majority of them were still upright, but many bore wounds. Deep cracks ran through their smooth surfaces, windows were shattered, entire facades were missing. In some places, bullet holes, black traces or impact points of weapons could be seen – circular, scattered wildly, some small and targeted. There are also points of impacts. It burned themselves deep into the walls, as if energy had eaten through the material. Explosions? Plasma? Electrical discharges? This was no ordinary war.

For a moment, I almost lost my balance as I stumbled over some junk. I managed to steady myself on an old bench. Taking a breath, I tried to collect myself – when I suddenly noticed something next to me on the bench.

Two skeletons, a small one and a larger one. A child and an adult. Both had sat side by side – or at least had tried to. Their bones lay there, peaceful and haunting at the same time. The sand had partially settled over them, as if trying to bury them gently, like a quiet, final embrace.

I fell from the bench, and a scream burst out of me – loud, raw, torn from the depths of my lung. The city responded with echoes, bouncing off the empty structures all around me. But the echoes didn’t return emptiness.

As I turned away from the two skeletons, my eyes caught movement – or rather, the stillness of many more. They were everywhere: in the windows, slumped in doorways, scattered across the streets. It wasn’t just people. I saw aliens among them, and machines – rusted, half-destroyed bodies with broken heads and melted limbs lying next to skeletons made of bone. Whatever had happened here, it had made no distinction. It had taken them all.

I was still lying on the ground, my breath coming in rapid uneven bursts. It took time before I could calm myself enough to sit up. My breathing gradually steadied, my heartbeat slowed, though it still thudded fast beneath my ribs. I wiped the dust and sweat from my face and forced myself to stand.

I turned back to the bench with the two skeletons. I stepped closer, letting my gaze glide across them. The smaller figure – the child – had its head resting on the adult’s shoulder. Maybe it was the father, or the mother. I couldn’t tell, which didn’t matter at the moment. What mattered was the image they left behind.

Looking around again, I saw the others. Many of them hadn’t just lain down – they had fallen where they stood. Their limbs were twisted mid-motion, their final moments frozen in desperate postures. They tried to escape or run from something. Something they hadn’t been able to outrun.

And yet, the two on the bench didn´t run. As is they had accepted their fate. That thought pressed down on me – not with fear, but with a deep, quiet mourning. I stood there in silence and let the weight of this place settle over me.

Eventually, I turned away and walked on, slowly. The sand crunched beneath my shoes as my eyes wandered – searching, observing, unsure of what I was even looking for. I wanted to understand, to know what had happened here.

I began to study the other skeletons more closely, starting with the human ones. Most of them lay in chaotic positions, as if they'd collapsed while running or struggling. Their clothing – if there was any of it left – had been shredded by time, wind, and sand.

Then I found the non-human remains. Many were surprisingly humanoid in structure: two arms, two legs, a torso, a head. Some had only three fingers, others six. Toes varied too – sometimes three, sometimes four. A few skulls resembled our own; others were longer, flatter, or featured strange ridges and openings.

And then I saw the large ones. There weren’t many of them, but they were striking. Over two meters tall, their bones appeared far too heavy for their frames, as if armor had once grown beneath their skin.

What unsettled me most, however, were those that had no regular bones at all. Those bones were made of metal. Some were a fusion of flesh and machinery: mechanical joints, ribcages, or forearms grafted to long-decayed muscle and sinew. Others, though, were entirely synthetic. Constructed humanoid shapes, made from precisely engineered components. Their joints, fingers, even their faces were clearly artificial – but eerily human all the same.

I walked on. The streets lay before me as if deserted, and yet in everything there was a silent story that slumbered under the sand. The buildings got taller the deeper I got into the city. Utopian shapes, shimmering material that gleamed mattery in the sun – this was once a place full of splendor.

Now, the structures looked like skeletons themselves, like abandoned shells of a civilization that had overtaken itself. In some places, half-collapsed towers rose into the sky at oblique angles, as if they were still rebelling against decay. Others were completely intact.

I passed by shattered storefronts and darkened windows. Behind the glass, abandoned technology that are still weakly blinking. Ribbons of light that flickered even though no one was there anymore. Hologram boards showed still images, frozen advertisements, interrupted messages. One screen displayed a man, which looks like a news anchor, whose lips no longer moved. His eyes looked at me as if he knew that I was the last one to watch.

I walked on, past bus stops, wide bridges, transport capsules that protruded halfway out of the buildings. The journey felt endless. The sun now stood nearly overhead, casting no shadow across my path – except the shadow of memory that slowly settled over my heart.

Everywhere the question was: What happened here? Why am I of all people here?

I had no answers, just my steps. And the wind that blew through the dead alleys like a forgotten breath.

Then, suddenly, a dull, soft thud broke the silence. I stopped. A second followed, heavier and closer. Then a third – deeper, like thunder rising from beneath the earth. The wind picked up. At first just a whisper, then stronger – faster, harsher. Grains of sand hissed past my legs, then against my face. I shielded my eyes and pushed forward, making my way to a wide intersection. I turned sideways, looking towards the horizon.

And I saw it.

A wall – not of stone or metal, but of sand. A Sandstorm, but unlike any I had ever known or seen. A towering wave, hundreds of meters high, rolled through the city with the power of a tidal surge, swallowing everything in its path. My breath caught in my throat. I froze – but only for a second.

Then I started to ran. The silence was over – now only survival counted. I tried one door after another. No one opened because either they are locked, dead, or simply didn´t response.

I spotted what looked like an underpass – maybe a subway entrance, but a thick metal grate blocked the way. No chance of getting through. The storm was coming closer. I could hear it now, not as wind, but as a roar – deep, shaking the very ground beneath me. My legs trembled. Sweat ran down my skin, mixing with the sand that lashed my face and arms.

Another door, still locked. Another one, nothing. And then – suddenly – a hiss.

Pfffft.

A door slid open to the side. Automatic. I didn't hesitate for a second. I stormed in, was almost pushed back by the air pressure, pressed against the inner frame with all my strength – and found a locking mechanism. I pounded on it with my fist. The door closed – slowly, reluctantly.

Shhhhk.

And then: darkness. Just my own heavy breath and the howling rage of the storm that was now hitting the walls outside. I was in, I made it. I sank against the wall, my back gliding along the cold inner surface until I finally sat down. My knees pulled up, arms rested heavily on his thighs.

I snorted the words more than I spoke them. „Vielllll zu knapp...“
//Wayyy…too close…//

My pulse was still thundering in my ears, accompanied by the distant rage of the sandstorm outside. I just sat there and breathed. I didn't say anything for a few minutes, didn't do anything. I was just listening to my own heartbeat. Then I began to slowly knock the sand out of my clothes. It was everywhere, in the shoes, in the trouser pockets, in my hair. My hands trembled slightly as I tried to wipe off the coarsest grains. It was useless to get rid of it completely – but it felt good to get rid some of it. The wind outside was still roaring, but it was quiet inside. Muted, almost... peaceful. I had shaken off most of the coarsest sand, my breathing was regular again, my body was still exhausted – but at least no longer panicked.

And then a thought. One I didn't want to think. „Hmm… dass ich bis jetzt nicht hun…“ GRRRROOOOOOOWWWWWLLL.
//Hmm… that I haven't been hun—//

My stomach interrupted me with a sound that was somewhere between an animal and a chainsaw. It vibrated almost all over my body. I remained seated as if frozen, staring into space.

I sighed, rolled my eyes. „… Jinxed."

I had conjured it up.„Ganz toll.“
//Great.//

While looking around, I noticed that this place was not a small shop, not a technical room, not a warehouse. It was... big, way much bigger. The ceiling stretched high above me, held by column-like beams. Far away I saw collapsed escalators, broken glass fronts, signs in a foreign script hanging from the ceiling. Shelving, stalls, glowing billboards that either flickered or are completely extinguished. I was in an abandoned wholesale market, or a mall.

I murmured, with a hint of hope. „Na super“
//Oh great//

I began to move carefully through the dusty semi-darkness. „Wenn hier irgendwo noch etwas Essbares rumliegt...“
//If there's anything edible left here…//

And then I saw it – a vending machine. Tall, slim, embedded in a wall. It looked like a futuristic snack machine. A screen, a dispensing chute, next to it several glowing symbols. I stepped closer and looked at the display. Several dishes were depicted – or what I thought were food. Packaging? Energy bars? Maybe something warm? But the writing underneath... Unintelligible. No letters I knew.

I muttered dryly. „Natürlich. Warum sollte etwas hier einfach sein…“
//Of course. Why would anything here be easy…//

I carefully tapped on one of the symbols. It lit up briefly – then... nothing, no reaction. I tried one more. Still nothing.

I was staring at the display. „Tja… wäre ja zu schön gewesen.“
//Well… that would have been too good.//

Then, I noticed something. The shapes, the patterns, something about it seemed... familiar.

I frowned, stepped closer.„Moment mal…“
//Wait a minute…//

I took a closer look and the realisation did not take long to kick in.

In which my heart gave a little jump. „Ist das nicht…Kanji?“
//Isn't that… Kanji?//

That couldn't be it. Or is it? I recognized some of the signs. Not many – but enough to dare to guess. Japanese? Really!?

I had once learned Japanese for a while. „Was zur Hölle...?“
//What the hell…?//

Not perfect, rather rusty. But I still knew a few signs. And then I remembered.

My translator!

I reflexively reached into my pocket and pulled out my smartphone. Quickly get out of super economy mode. The translation app. Please, please... I opened it. A small moment of waiting. Then – relief. Japanese was downloaded for offline use.

As if I had just outsmarted reality, I burst out. „YES!"

I activated the camera mode of the translator app and carefully pointed the mobile phone at the display of the machine. A tremor went through my hand – out of expectation. And indeed: The first characters were superimposed live. A word appeared.

//Chips//

I stared at it. „CHIPS!? HIER!? HAH!“
//CHIPS!? HERE!? HAH!//

I shook my head, grinning. „Klingt…essbar.“
//Sounds…edible//

I chuckled. „Nur ein Weg, das rauszufinden.“
//Only one way to find out//

I tapped the button next to it.//Chips//

Then on.//Confirm//

A moment of silence. Then the screen flickered – and a new message appeared.

//Cost: 200 Credits//

I stared at it. For a few seconds, I said nothing.

Then, my voice trembled. „Ist das dein Ernst…?“
//Are you serious…?//

A scream thundered out of me like an explosion. „DEIN SCHEIß ERNST!?“
//ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS!?//

With every word, another kick. With every step a crunch. A wobble. A plea. At some point – a quiet click. Then a hum. And suddenly: clack – clack – clack– rrrrtschh! The dispensing shaft opened. And began to spit. Packaging. Snacks. Bottles. Bag. Latch. Tins. A whole avalanche of food and drink poured into the containment area. I stared at it.

Then I grinned. „Na also. Geht doch. Ich wollte doch nur fragen…“
//There you go. I just wanted to ask…//

I stood in front of the vending machine, scattered around me: snacks, packaged food, beverage bottles, colorful bags with signs that I still couldn't read – but that at least looked like consumable.

I sank to the floor, collecting some of the bags around me as if I were setting up a camp. For a moment, it almost felt like a picnic. In an abandoned, dusty, dead mall. I took my time. I looked closely at package after package. Turns them in your hands. No best-before date that I could read. I tried several products. Nothing. They had probably long since developed something here that exceeded our understanding of durability. Maybe synthetic preservation. Maybe nano-bacteria – who knows? I looked at one of these packages and shrugged my shoulders.

I mumbled. „Erstmal kein Kopf drum machen.“
//Don't worry about it for the time being//

While I tore open a bag of chips. „Wenn’s mich umhaut, dann wenigstens mit vollem Magen.“
//If it kills me, at least it'll be on a full stomach//

Or something like that. Thin, crunchy, salty, but with a strangely sweet aftertaste. Somehow... good. I chewed slowly, enjoying every bite like a king at a banquet. My stomach reported with a satisfied rumble.

I said in-between bites. „Na also, es gibt noch Wunder in dieser toten Welt.“
//Well, there are still miracles in this dead world//

And I continued to eat. Without thinking, without doubting, because I simply needed it.

About thirty minutes later, I picked myself up again. My stomach was full, my head a little clearer, and the storm outside seemed to have slowly subsided – or at least moved on. Time to move on. I grabbed one of the empty backpacks I had found next to a former stall – futuristic in design, light but stable. I stuffed in as much provisions as I could carry without overloading myself. For now, I wouldn't starve. I roamed the mall, now with a different look. It was huge. Two, maybe three floors. The shops were diverse. Some were reminiscent of clothing stores – empty mannequins stood there, some with clothes that had held up surprisingly well despite time. Other shops looked like technology stores – devices, tablets, bizarre devices with glowing cores that could no longer be activated. In between were cafés, small quiet areas into which the sand had crept in. A children's play area that seemed frozen – with hovercars that would never drive again. Then I stopped. In front of a wide, half-open entrance. Dark, quiet, almost majestic. Above the entrance is a large sign – in a faded language, of course – but underneath, a small addition in an old one, also Japanese. I held my smartphone on it.

//Information Archive//

A library. I stepped closer. „Okay…vielleicht kann ich hier endlich herausfinden, wo ich eigentlich gelandet bin“
//Okay…maybe I can finally find out where I actually landed//

Maybe there were clues here. Historical data. Maps. Technology that still worked. Maybe even... Answers. I carefully stepped through the entrance area of the library. The light was diffuse – a mixture of faintly smoldering, artificial ceiling moldings and scattered rays of sunlight that penetrated through narrow window openings. The dust danced in it like tiny particles from a long-forgotten time. The shelves stretched into the depths, some still neatly filled, others half-collapsed or empty. The room was silent. He was breathing... History. I put my backpack next to a table that was right near the entrance. The surface was covered with a thick layer of dust, as if no one had touched it for centuries. At that moment, a book fell from the edge of the table. A dull plop, followed by a soft rustle on the floor. I bent down and picked it up. The binding was brittle, marked by time and dryness. Dust poured out of the cracks. I blew carefully over it. A single, light breath – and my entire field of vision exploded in a cloud of dust.

I staggered back a step, waved my hands, coughed uncontrollably. „Oh wow… so alt!? Hust...hust!“
//Oh wow… so old!? Cough...cough!//

My voice sounded hushed, as if the dust itself was trying to keep me from touching the knowledge of this place.

I had to laugh, gasping and Dust-covered. „Was auch immer da drinne steht – das hat lange auf jemanden gewartet.“
//Whatever is written in there – it has been waiting for someone for a long time.//

I sat down on the chair at the table. The mixture of artificial light and sunbeams cast strange shadows on the pages. The moment felt meaningful. As if I had found a relic. Something that was ready to speak. If only I understood his language. I wiped the last dust from my eyes and finally looked properly at the cover of the book.

And there it was. Kanji, again. „Schon wieder japanisch...“
//Japanese again…//

A strange feeling spread through me – a mix of familiarity, confusion and growing curiosity. Then a thought flashed through my head. The entrance! I got up, left the book carefully on the table, and went back to the door through which I had entered. I took a step out – the wind outside had died down, the Mall lay still in the light of the setting sun. My gaze wandered upwards. There it was. The big sign above the entrance. I had only looked at it fleetingly before, but now – with an open gaze – I saw it clearly. Two languages. The bottom line in Kanji.

And right over there, partially cover in Sand, under the Japanese... English.

//INFORMATION ARCHIVE//

I stepped closer. I turned around, looked at other signs in the area.

A shop: 「服とスタイル」

– below it: //FASHION & STYLE//

A small snack bar: 「食事区画」

– below it: //FOOD ZONE//

I whispered. „Aber wie…?“
//But how…?//

I suddenly felt as if I had landed in the middle of a gigantic, multilingual spaceport – only no one was left here. I turned around again, straight back to the table. The book was waiting. And now I was ready to listen. I sat down, pulled out my smartphone again, and opened the camera translation.

I leaned over the book again. The screen of my smartphone lit up faintly, the camera active, ready to decipher the incomprehensible.

Then, I thought about the signs. „Warum… sind hier Erdsprachen? Japanisch… Englisch… “
//Why… are there Earth languages here? Japanese… English…//

The vending machines and everything else around here. „Bin ich wirklich auf einem fremden Planeten? Oder…?“
//Am I really on an alien planet? Or…?//

I shook my head slightly, chased away the thought and refocused on what lays ahead. Slowly, the title of the book began to form on the display of my smartphone.

//The Memoirs of Kirito and Asuna//

I froze. My body suddenly became very still. Only my eyes moved.

The names sounded so familiar. „Kirito… und Asuna…“
//Kirito… and Asuna…//

Way too familiar, like ghosts from a memory that lay buried very deep. A soft flicker went through me. I flipped through the next page. There was a picture. An old, faded photo of two people. A man and a woman. Both stood close to each other, smiled slightly, their clothes looked modern – and yet different. I carefully lifted the image and looked at them. I recognized them. Not directly – but somehow. It wasn't just their faces but more like... a feeling. A déjà vu that was too deep to be a coincidence. My hand trembled slightly. The picture slipped out of my fingers. It slowly sailed through the air and landed flat on the table.

My voice was barely audible. „Moment... ?““
//Wait... ?//

I looked up, into the shadows of the library, as if someone there could have the answer ready for me. „Sag mit nicht... ?“
//Don’t tell me... ?//

But no one was there. Just me, this book and a strange feeling that my trip... may had perhaps only begun now. I was looking at the picture again. Slowly... the pieces came together. The names, the faces. Kazuto Kirigaya and Asuna Yuuki. They are not just anyone. Characters from Sword Art Online. An anime, A manga, a game. Fiction, pure fiction. And yet this picture lays here in front of me: printed, aged, yellowed.

In a book called Memoirs.

Not a fan book, not a novel, but memoirs. This meant... that they had been real, In this world. My chair tilted slightly backwards, but caught myself at the last moment, stood up halfway, my hands resting on the table.

My heart was racing. „Das kann nicht sein…“
//This can't be…//

I looked at the picture again. The familiarity in it was no longer just nostalgic – it was disturbingly real.

My mind searched for a foothold – but found only questions. „Was ist das hier…?“
//What is this…?//

How could fictional characters appear as real people in a book on an alien world? What if this wasn't just an alien planet... ? I slowly sat down again. My gaze remained fixed on the picture, on the faces that could not be here.

Then... I slowly raised my right hand. A single, firm slap on my cheek. „Wach auf…“
//Wake up…//

I was still sitting there, but my chest was rising and falling faster. Slap. Another one, but harder.

This time louder. „Wach auf…“
//Wake up…//

I got up jerkily, the picture fell off the table again. Slap. And then another Slap. The blows became more violent.

Like an echo between the shelves. Like a call to myself – or to anything that heard me. I stood there, my hands trembling, my face reddened, my forehead wet with sweat. But I was still here. Still awake. Still in this world, which was not mine. I pulled myself up with a sudden swing.

I began to walk up and down. Like a predator in a cage, slowly, step by step. Like someone who has lost his way in his own mind.

I mumbled. „Nichts davon ergibt irgendeinen verdammten Sinn.“
//None of this makes any damn sense//

These faces, so familiar, so real. I stared at them as if they were about to smile back. „Wie…könnt ihr beiden nur real sein…?“
//How…can you two be real…?//

It was not an accusation, no anger, just pure confusion. And then I noticed something. On their hands – each a simple, silver ring. They have been married.

Huh.

I still stood there, my forehead full of questions – and yet, inside me: a new spark. Slowly I lowered the photo and lifted my eyes. I looked into the dark depths of this library. Shelves upon shelves, full of books, data crystals, displays, symbols of foreign civilizations – and perhaps: answers.

I took a deep breath. „Gut…“
//Good…//

Then, I took a step forward. „Wenn das hier ein verdammter Wahnsinn ist, dann will ich wenigstens wissen, wovon ich verrückt werde.“
//If this is damn madness, then at least I want to know what I'm going crazy from//

I began to search systematically. Everything I could grab. Everything I could decipher. I rummaged through the shelves. Opened old archives, compared signs, photographed, tired to translat them. Because either I had long since gone crazy... or something incomprehensible had happened. Something that no longer separated reality and fiction. Something that connected everything. I wanted to know the how, when and why. And this library was my key.