Kyoya's departure from the Shrine grounds has cemented an unforeseen independence within the boy, the resounding approval from both his mentors being his one beacon of hope for what should come.

With the emergence of two new acquaintances, it would seem that he's been offered some leeway in navigating this ever-expanding world. One in particular, though, gives the Miscreant mysteriously fleeting memories, never staying long enough to identify them, but always enough to notice their presence.

And now, given his shot at doing everything over again, the Legends Festival couldn't sound like a better place to start.

The ambient rumbling of dirt roads began to smooth out as they seemed to transition onto less rough terrain. A peek through the hatchframe revealed the ground beneath them to be made of exceptionally carved stone and brick, that being clue enough to their little escapade having been successful.

"Talk about a lifesaver." Lyric moved her eyes to Ryder. "Not sure I've ever seen you so antsy about the Festival, though... What's so important this time around?"

"Keep it straight, I actually have no idea. Just felt like comin', is all..." She took a moment. "But, I s'pose there's no reason not to double down and make the trip a little more worthwhile."

Kyoya glanced around, waiting a bit before poking his head out the hatch again. He could hardly see the gate, assuming it to be safe enough.

"Think we made it far enough in?"

"Oughta be." The amber-eyed girl acknowledged. "Guess we're rolling?" She and Ryder exchanged what seemed like a weirdly intricate handshake, involving multiple high-fives and fist-bumps. It ended with both of them bumping forearms in an 'X' formation, Ryder sitting back down as her accomplice turned to head toward the hatch. Lyric then took a glance over her shoulder. "You coming with?"

"I've got errands to run, so I'll hang here 'till this buggy gets a little closer to Midtown. You two do your thing." She leaned back and outstretched her legs, putting an arm over her eyes as the uproar of livelihood began to rip it's way through whatever quiet had come about them.

"Fair enough. Kyoya?" Lyric looked to him.

"Right behind you." He nodded, getting up to collect himself: his trademark way of preparing for new environmental endeavors.

If his stepping out of the barrier was something even further beyond monumental, the feeling achieved by his first step onto the carved stone pathway was something yet further. The brick felt unbreakable in it's solidity, both immensely strong while still retaining an almost divine smoothness. Sure, there were cracks, but it could be expected from hundreds of years of frequent travel by the colossal tourists that made their annual commute on this very road. If anything, that only made it feel more legitimate.

Of course, this was only pavement, the literal foundation of a Kingdom unbound. That alone wouldn't do anywhere near enough justice to the sensory overload induced by the sights, smells, and sounds of this practically new world. Even Teleo in what he knew to be it's prime couldn't hope to compare to the masterful architecture employed by the carpenters and artisans behind the works before him; they served as a fine testament to Altaire's marvelously diverse infrastructure of buildings and plazas.

More roads just like this one stretched well past the horizon, blanketed with merchant's stands as more and more people and creatures alike made their way. Even in this one street, he could see humans, Lynians, Lycans, Fairies, whoever and whatever chose to make the journey. Such a captivating concoction of culture had never once been observed by the Miscreant, let alone in Teleo.

Any and every demographic of people were in attendance, from rags to riches and everything in between. Even the skies were filled to the brim with their own aerial traffic, with anything with wings seeming right at home among the luminous roofs and banners that gave the kingdom it's unparalleled gleam. It came as quite the surprise that he still managed to feel even the slightest bit comfortable.

After some more stationary sightseeing, Lyric hinted at amusement from his awe, her muffled laughter reminding him that he wasn't there alone.

"You're really taking it in, huh?"

"I don't reckon I had a choice."

"Smart one. Go figure."

She set her eyes somewhere forward, appearing to have centered in on something ahead of them. "Yeesh, Alley really pulled out the stops for us; that buggy she nabbed got us right on top of the Altaire Archive."

"...Altaire Archive?" Questioned the Miscreant.

"You've really never been out, have you?" Lyric prodded him in return. She didn't sound as put off as she did confused, but the general sense of her inquiry remained.

Kyoya's insecurity flared, the boy shooting it back down before answering.

"I-I'm not the type to get around, is all... But, this 'Archive', what's that all about?"

"Consider it an oversized library. It's only such a big deal right now because they update the ancient texts every four years; plus, with all that's happened recently, I bet now'd be the time to read up." She nodded in triumph, taking a glance over to him. "So, whaddya say? Feel like being study buddies for a bit?"

Her mention of these, "ancient texts," was something that beat out any prior objections from the get-go. More specifically, thinking to Reika, this was likely something he'd regret having passed up, anyway.

"No harm in it. What exactly are you after?"

A sudden stiffness came about her demeanor, the girl's expression shifting from easygoing to bordering tense.

"Ever heard of the Defiant?"

"I... Guess? Maybe it rings a bell? But not-"

As if on command, a vicious stinging sensation shot through his temple. The shock alone would've knocked him out cold if not for his unnaturally high resilience, but even that didn't stop him from being forced to a crippled kneel. The smooth-stone brick instantly felt sharpened and jagged, carving into his palm and knee. Once soft and distant sounds were suddenly blaring, the boy hardly able to distinguish reality from his senses turning against him.

Floodgates in the deepest reaches of his conscious were tearing open, strange and foreign perceptions invading what scattered shards of his mind remained from the initial assault. He could see faces unfamiliar to him, fleeting thoughts and emotions not his own. For split seconds at a time they appeared, never for enough time to truly examine, only to fade back into ambiguity immediately afterward.

Whatever these thoughts were, they were not his. They couldn't be. He'd never known any of those fleeting concepts, let alone ever seen them. And yet, they felt so very close, as though he absolutely should have known them at very first glance.

Breaking this trance took more mental fortitude than the Miscreant knew he had, but alas, the siege on his mind at long last reached it's conclusion.