—Engraving at the city’s northeast gate
Tucked into the frozen southern coast, where snow meets a glassy black sea, lies Novastra—the last known human city still standing after the great war over two centuries ago. Its foundations are ancient, its memory long, and its future uncertain.
Home to nearly 300,000 citizens, Novastra is less a beacon and more a bastion—its magic-fueled barrier flickering, aging, misunderstood. Where once humanity dreamed of soaring towers and floating citadels, they now cling to survival, building with stone, wood, and grit, channeling their dwindling ingenuity into holding the darkness at bay.
The city is built like a riddle: only 10% rests on land, the rest sprawled across massive stone platforms over the ocean, connected by an intricate network of manmade canals. There are no highways—just water channels where boats drift between homes, shops, and council halls. Locals call it Watertown for a reason: if you stand still long enough, the sea will carry your reflection back to you.
At the city's heart lies a massive U-shaped canal, wide enough to berth a cruise liner—though no such ships exist anymore. Once intended for global trade, it now lies dormant, filled with smaller crafts, drifting lanterns, and forgotten ambition.
Novastra’s beauty is carved from necessity. Most structures are hewn from dark stone, quarried from inland mountains before Lady Lumin’s rise. High-quality wood reinforces roofs and beams, adding warmth and decoration. Even now, humans are regarded as the finest builders—if not for their cursed fragility, they might have reshaped the world itself.
Lanterns hum softly at dusk, powered by thin threads of Aether. Wrought-iron balconies overlook canals where children fish for glimmer eels. Every brick tells a story—some of loss, some of invention, all of survival.
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Within its walls, Novastra is split not by streets, but by ideologies. Two great factions shape its future:
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The Pro-Diplomacy Council, led by Lord Deogon V and Elara, seeks peace through negotiation, including with former predators like the Aku Clan.
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The Militarists, commanded by General Rorik, believe only strength ensures survival. To them, diplomacy is just a slower defeat.
And between them lies the Anomaly Question.
The numbered humans—like Seven—are not citizens. They are outsiders, wielders of strange powers, fragments of an old world the city no longer understands. To some, they are messiahs. To others, weapons in waiting.
The average Novastran dreams of safety but whispers prayers for someone strong enough to end their fear. And if that someone doesn’t share their ideals? Well… not everyone prays for the same god.
Modern weaponry is rare. Magic-tech rifles still exist but drain mana too fast for most soldiers. Instead, Novastra's warriors fight with rune-scribed blades and close-fitting armor—light, agile, and fueled by hard-earned skill.
An old underground train system, once meant to link the city to inland ruins, is now repurposed for public movement. Some say it runs deeper, connecting to secrets long buried—but few go far into the tunnels.
And far on the city’s northeast edge sits a fortress unlike any other: the War Rabbit Guild, housing towering bunny folk with strength enough to rival titans. Their presence is a reminder that Novastra does not stand alone—but neither does it fully trust its allies.
Just 300 kilometers to the northeast lies the domain of the Aku Clan—giant Neko warriors twisted by dark mana. Their territory surrounds Novastra like a noose, sparing only the sea. Before recent negotiations, travelers who ventured out rarely returned. Whether devoured, detained, or tested… none know.
Now, peace hangs by threads spun from politics, fear, and ambition.
To outsiders, Novastra is just a name.
To its people, it’s the last hope.
To its enemies, it’s a question waiting for an answer.
And to the numbered anomalies appearing one by one, it's a crossroads between rebirth… and ruin.