“They lunged ahead of our Earth a long time ago, but they also had two near-extinction events that slowed them down. That’s not counting Gold Morning. Let’s walk and get out of the cold. The meeting hall is this way.”

It was only a few minutes of walking to get there. Vista didn’t use her power.

Five standards hung over the entrance. When we entered, there were five groups. I saw the flicker of Miss Militia’s weapon, going from sword to nebulous blur to the sword again. A signal?

I hadn’t expected warmth. I didn’t get it, but I didn’t get it to such a surprising degree that it left me a bit off guard. Yes, these were people who had been conquered by parahumans once. But they were also people who had invited us. The atmosphere was cold.

Two of the five groups had styles that resembled our own back in the Megalopolis. Outfits that resembled suits, with simple braids instead of ties. Braids for belts, the ends left dangling. I liked it more than what we had back home. It was similar enough to home, though, that I had to wonder if Goddess had had any influence, or any culture had leaked through. This world had been her plaything.

The other three groups favored clothing that flowed more. I could see where a history rooted in some distant commonalities and practical sense had led to some things occurring over here that coincided with what we had back home. One of those three groups seemed to like clothes that made them look very boxy, with an almost straight line down from armpit to ankle for tunic and pants. The other two wore clothes that wrapped around them.

Miss Militia lowered her hood, which was the cue for those of us that had been wearing helmets and hoods in the blistering cold outside to remove our headgear, to expose faces.

I fixed my hood, draping the front portion around my shoulders, and checked over the others, making sure they were okay.

When I looked up, I saw my mother, intact, leaning on my dad. They were in the company of Marquis and one of Marquis’ underlings. Spruce, I was pretty sure.

Following behind, my sister was in the company of Chris, who had done his best to grow up early and hadn’t quite hit the mark. He was distorted, his torso stretched out, his arms stretched down, legs roughly the right proportions, but there was an uncanny issue in there, a rounding error in calculations, or the sum total not adding up to parts. His hair had grown in rather long considering it hadn’t been that long since he’d left, and he still slouched, despite being tall.

No transformation here. Just… riding the side effects of past transformations. He barely reacted as he saw us.