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"I\'ve got a lot of questions. But, if you\'re looking to get out of here, then I say we\'ve got a common goal," Emilio said.

A smile etched itself across the blue-eyed elf\'s lips as he jabbed his thumb against his own chest, "Ask away, friend! I know only what I know, but what I know is your knowledge all the same!"

Without a doubt, the first question he had pertained to the nature of the realm he found himself in now; even if it was clear it was that which came after death, it didn\'t fit the bill of a traditional afterlife to him.

"The After is interesting, isn\'t it?" Blimpo said, "I\'ve been dead for a solid…hmm, ten years now? In my time here, I\'ve run into my fair share of trouble, but for the most part, it\'s not too bad down here! From what I\'ve heard, asking around, the After isn\'t just the afterlife for Arcadius…"

The tone that the elven tinkerer took was a lot more low, with a smile engulfed in curiosity as he looked at the young Dragonheart as if waiting for the same feeling, which he found. It was a suspicion that Emilio already held close to his heart with the existence of the gun-toting War, but now he felt it more solidified in reality than ever.

"...Not just Arcadius, then that means…?" He slowly asked.

Blimpo nodded, "The After is where everything goes. It\'s amazing, really. There\'s so many worlds, so many civilizations beyond our own. Inventors that have crafted things beyond my wildest imaginations–carriages that move without horses, devices that connect everybody in the world–when I think about it, my hands can\'t stop trembling with excitement. It makes me want to keep crafting and creating. On Arcadius, we only know of our own world–yet, revelations like this are hidden behind death. It\'s kind of ironic, isn\'t it? The greatest discoveries lie beyond life."

There was so much passion and sheer, palpable excitement written on Blimpo\'s face and intertwined with the words that left his lips. Such knowledge was already known by Emilio, but seeing the effect and grandeur it impacted one naturally from Arcadius made him feel it himself.

"Yeah," he replied, "...So, you\'ve met a lot of people that have passed from these other worlds, then?"

Blimpo nodded, "For a while, I wandered far-and-wide, I talked to all kinds of people–most didn\'t even know what Arcadius was! They sounded even more shocked than me when I told them about stuff from our world! Apparently magic, dragons n\' all of that is just stuff they tell their children at night! Ha-ha!"

It was an odd feeling to him, like a crossing between his own two lives; the After housed those who had died on Arcadius and even Earth, from the sounds of it. Likely even other worlds, too–it was somewhat overwhelming, making him feel small in the scope of the boundless afterlife.

"...You mentioned some \'Progenitor\' figure you were trying to meet," Emilio brought up.

Blimpo had already instinctively begun tinkering with a device, using a hammer to drill pieces of metal into a wooden base for a weapon, "Yeah! Wait, did you come here without knowing about \'im, either?!"

"Is that surprising?"

"Well…yeah, the Progenitor won\'t even let you through those front doors of the temple if you don\'t have the proper conviction–I\'ve never heard of somebody just wandering in without knowing!" Blimpo smiled, "The Progenitor is said to be one of the Primordials–pretty high n\' mighty figures down here in the After. If you can pass his tests, it\'s said you can then exchange with him for anything."

"Exchange?..." Emilio repeated.

"Yeah–anything goes, apparently. I came here because I want to learn much more–everything that\'s on the world they call \'Earth\'," Blimpo tapped the side of his head, "--I\'ll learn it all then make inventions that\'ll blow even the Primordials away!"

It was certainly a goal, though it felt childlike in nature through the pure excitement that Blimpo wielded, there was no doubt that it was something possible in the hands of the genius inventor. In that small, cramped space littered with spare parts, it was an art form in itself watching the goggle-wearing man tinker away.

Watching it reminded him of the one he had befriended in Vasmoria; the kind inventor, Jeanne. The art of crafting magical trinkets was something he had attempted to learn, but had yet to grasp.

There was no point in rushing out and confronting War just yet; Blimpo convinced him as much with the patience he embodied and the time of preparation being the most valuable asset they had. As such, there wasn\'t much else to do but watch the elven man build and conversate with him.

"So…where\'d you learn to make magical trinkets?" He asked.

It didn\'t take long for Blimpo to already become engrossed in the mechanism being scrambled together like a multi-layered jigsaw puzzle, flipping his goggles on before answering, "--Mainly myself!"

"Really?" He asked in surprise.

A nod came from Blimpo before a small fire suddenly sparked from the triple-barrelled rune cannon he was crafting, prompting him to rapidly blow air on it and wave his hands before putting it out.

Watching the miniature disaster spur for a few seconds, the young Dragonheart sighed, "...I\'m starting to get an idea of how you ended up in the After."

"Ha-ha! You\'re not too far off there!" Blimpo laughed, setting the item down as he lifted his goggles again, "I was close–real close to finishing my magnum opus, my masterpiece, something that would change my country for years to come."

"What was it? Also, if you don\'t mind me asking, where are you from, anyway? Not to be presumptuous, but you\'re not human, right?" Emilio asked.

Of course, nothing seemed out of the question in terms of what the eccentric tinkerer would answer, as he seemed more than delighted to have somebody to talk to after all of this time in the deathly labyrinth.

Blimpo sat down on a dusty crate, leaning against the wall behind him, "It was a bomb."

"A bomb?..." He curiously repeated.

"Not the kind you\'re thinking of. This one wasn\'t built to destroy," Blimpo explained, "You asked where I was from? I\'m from the elven kingdom of Terusania–it\'s a country completely reliant on magic."

For some reason, the rapid, hyper way of speaking that Blimpo usually possessed was much more mellowed out when speaking of his past, fiddling with the goggles on his head.

"Terusania…" He recalled.

"Know about it?" Blimpo asked.

He nodded, "Yeah, haven\'t been there myself yet, but any mage worth their salt knows about Terusania. Everything is automated by magic there; the weather is optimized by mages, farming is efficiently handled, and even their cities are empowered by mana."

"Interesting," Blimpo leaned forward with a smile, putting his hand on his chin as he looked a bit too closely at the young Dragonheart.

Leaning back in response to the close stare, Emilio raised an eyebrow, "...What?"

"You used the word \'yet\'," Blimpo noticed, pointing at him, "That\'s a funny word to use for one already in the After."

It was a Freudian slip of sorts, to which he realized how odd it must\'ve sounded to somebody who had long since been subject to the hold of the After.

"...Yeah, I guess it is," he responded.

There was definitely no way such a simple response would satisfy the curious mind of Blimpo that seemed to always work in overdrive, fueled by utmost curiosity in anything and everything, but–

"So, back to the bomb!" Blimpo moved on.

Of course, there were clearly other things more important on the mind of the elven tinkerer, much to the relief of the young Dragonheart, who didn\'t quite feel like explaining just yet why he might be a special case that could yet live.

"Magic is everything in Terusania. From the moment you\'re born, your placement in society is determined by that–just a little less talent than your peers and you can expect a life of hard labor," Blimpo said.

"What about you? You\'re amazing at making magical trinkets, right?" He asked.

"You\'re going to make me blush. Kidding. But yeah, I\'d like to think so too. Problem is, even if you end up being talented at weaving spells or crafting magic-based tools, it doesn\'t change your birth-given status," Blimpo explained.

It was hard to tell by the youthful inventor\'s tone how exactly he felt about his homeland; there was a part of him that obviously reminisced of the life he had, yet there was a distinct distaste for certain aspects of it in his tone.

Still, there was never an ounce of negativity that truly seemed to exude from the bright-and-energetic man as he sat there on the crate, talking away.

"You see, I was designated from birth as being a "Mud Born"--or in simple terms: the lowest of the low," Blimpo told him.

"...Yikes," Emilio playfully let out.

"Yikes indeed, my friend," Blimpo nodded, "When that happens, unless your parents are the highest born themselves…You get ripped away and tossed into what\'s called the "Waste Plate"--the lowest section of Terusania\'s capital, where all of the mud born\'s are thrown to slave away."