With the ten usalian peons rocking their shovels as their main weapon, the expedition team was ready to go.
"We really don't have much outside of shovels, huh," Nagan quipped.
"Shovels are the only things we need." Owen snickered in response. "It is a multi-purpose tool, serving various jobs at once. Shovel helps with digging and transplanting soil, making shallow trenches, and in removing dirt or debris. It's great for fighting close combat too!"
"... I guess, with the whole predicament within the Grand Filament, you can say that we need to start 'digging' into this mess."
"That's so bad."
"Well, the rabbits seemed very attached with their own shovels. You can say that the shovel put those Usalians into a 'trench'."
"... Don't make me strangle you."
Without further ado, Nagan scanned the rough estimate of the new world's surface and planted a destination portal on that location.
The whirring of space spun in a cathartic helix.
After the connection was established, the portal-like apparition began to fill the space inside the frame of the Wayward Gate, brimming its prism shine with an invitation of adventure.
Nagan bravely moved forward into the prism portal without any hesitation. Yet, at the same time, something had been lingering in the back of his mind.
The current state of the Kingdom was barely functioning and rural at best. Most of the structures and objects were created from the procured material, and it was also built with the middle ages civilization in mind.
It would make sense, if not for the fact that Owen should have been with humanity longer than she makes up to be.
The memories of humanity's progress, its language, and its knowledge, was there a device that the Usalian possessed to extract such things in a short period of time?
Yet, despite possessing the power to store objects and travel through worlds, why was there no sign of modern technology or above that humans currently possessed within the Kingdom?
Surely, the kingdom would greatly benefit by having guns and construction tools instead of shovels. If the queen could go to any place she wanted, hijacking a reserved military barrack and arsenal would be a piece of cake. She could also easily impart the information onto the usalians on how to utilize those, if she was able to do it with shovels and lumbering saw. A seven days old toddler would still struggle digging an underground storage otherwise.
Too little information, for a great amount of plot holes that he observed.
Nagan reached out his hand, letting it be engulfed by the prism portal. He felt a calm breeze smothering the skin of his hand on the other side.
He then glanced back at his supposed enigmatic wife with his usual carefree face.
Owen replied with a smile, and a phrase of encouragement.
"Be safe." Owen gave an enthusiastic thumbs up. "May we reach the neamh and evermore."
Indeed, maybe he was overthinking this.
The queen might look human, but she wasn't human by nature. Perhaps the queen wanted to create a prosperous kingdom that would stand the test of time with a proper foundation. Just like how humans went from hunter-gatherer communities into agricultural settlements, which evolve again and again throughout the course of human history.
There was also the usalian's obsession with genetics. Struggling and overcoming hurdles, gaining the experience for them might have been the essence of progress that she sought.
Or maybe it wasn't the right time to hoard humanity's heritage and power as one's own. She might as well have all of the necessary technology within her pocket space to make this kingdom of her thrive to evermore.
Regardless, Nagan curled an irresolute smile. "No matter how fast I adapt, everything still feels too sudden."
It was the same with the first apocalypse he went through. He was able to hastily adapt, staying alive, thriving through the sea of flame, becoming one of the Deosah, but the weariness still lasted even now.
Never ever has he stopped worrying about everything.
Will the humanity that he once knew would be able to fight back this early apocalypse?
The Deosah, how are they doing?
Will he be able to finally get the proper peace that he dreamed?
Still, Nagan decided that there would be a time when his questions would be answered. As for the chaos currently unraveling on Earth, he trusted his comrade to do better than the first timeline of lamenting.
And so, he let himself enter the gate of prismic light.
The ten usalian peons briskly followed afterwards.
"... This is different."
The irregularly sweet stench of the morning dew could be smelled just as they entered the new world.
"Another world!"
"Eh? What's the difference?"
"The trees are almost circles!"
"The trees are curvy!"
"The trees are violet!"
"The grass is violet!"
"All of you need to shut up."
"Oh no, Mrs. Immortal Lizard is angwy."
"It's Immortal Dragon Overlord!"
"Hitherto, the winner of this fight shall claim this otherworldly rock, Hopscotch!"
"I don't care about the rock, but, Karasaki, I sure want to beat you to pulp."
"You're still hungry, Clover?"
"Mmmm! Not anymore! This food is funky though."
"That's dirt."
An unknown world, yet familiar hues. Similar sunlight, and similar blues on the faraway sky.
Beneath the billow, however, was that of alien scenery. The arboreal expanse unfolded like a symphony of bioluminescent clues, where the curving violet trees hum with melodies unseen and the air carried the scent of celestial blossoms, weaving an ineffable poetry in the midst of an otherworldly wilderness.
Nagan and the ten usalian peons arrived at a clear hill of this new world, where they could beheld curving mountains trying to grasp the blue sky like a buried behemoth reaching out to claim heaven.
And with that, Nagan promptly closed the portal on his end, so that he could deploy another one later whenever he needed to. Because as of now, he wasn't proficient enough to maintain two portals to connect to the Wayward Gate at the homeworld.
"Alright, now, I'll be establishing a communication link to all of you."
With the Wayward Crystal in his hand that acted as a catalyst, Nagan branched and stretched the one-dimensional fabric of his consciousness into all of the ten usalian peons.
"Hue?"
"Ah."
"Yeouch."
"Uh oh."
"Ouch."
"Gah- Karasaki!"
"Preposterous, I'm not doing anythi- ack!"
"Plebeians, to be startled by such- Hiii!"
"Alright." Nagan clapped with a smile. "All of you can try speaking telepathically to me when the situation requires it. Now, try saying something within the telepathic channel to ensure that all of you have been properly linked."
Impressed by how he was able to do all of this first try, Nagan couldn't help but feel some sense of accomplishment.
He was still overwhelmed by the whole situation, but he started to get the hang of it.
Although, he sometimes forgot that the current state of usalian peons were akin to that of middle school troublemakers.
"One, two, three. Is the link working, Patriarch?"
"I'm just saying this to you, Patriarch, but I feel like there was something wrong with Karasaki when the Queen gave birth to her."
"ULULULULULULU!!"
"I feel anxious about Hoppington trying to feed dirt to Clover."
"With my utmost respect to you, Patriarch, I look more fabulous than you."
"No comment from me, this place is cold."
"Some of the informational memories given to us by the Queen are unopened, kinda like an unwrapped package that we can choose to open whenever we're ready to open it. They are neatly labeled too so we know what kind of pandora we're onto. One of the memories I opened is literally about how the same company that makes rotating house appliances that can clean dirt off a clothing, is also the same company who makes a rotating machine that evaporates people by shooting 3,900 rounds of deadly lead traveling faster than the speed of sound, per minute."
"How do I do this again? Oh, hi, Patriarch!"
"Patriarch, I'm still hungry."
"Say hi from Pippin to the usalian named Hungry!"
With an overwhelmed mind hidden beneath a deadpan, Nagan prompted all of them to stop sending messages through the telepathic link, confirming that the link was indeed working as intended.