Steins Gate Visual Novels & Stories

Jonah sent a single thumbs up emoji that made my chest ache. I should call them. I will. Just not right now. The car slows and I look up. There’s a gate ahead, tall and iron and imposing, the kind that makes it very clear you’re not supposed to be here unless someone specifically invites you. Stone pillars on either side with the name ‘Petrova’ carved into them in elegant letters. The gate starts to open before we even reach it, sliding apart smooth and silent like it knows we’re coming. We drive through and the road changes from asphalt to gravel, the sound of it crunching under the tires filling the quiet car.

It guarded the Estate Rings and the Spire. It wasn't made of stone. It was solid, seamless Barzil-steel. It hummed with a low-frequency power I could feel in my molars. The gates were welded shut. Neoma walked up the rubble. Her movements were stiff. Her skin was translucent, the black veins of Void-sickness stagnant under the surface. She looked at the inner wall. She looked at the execution site high above. "One down," she whispered. Her throat moved as she swallowed back bile.

The stench of burned metal and wet dust hung hard in the air when I reached the foot of the rock. Kael was completely free from the gigantic, sloping steel gates of Bunker Beta. His vast presence seemed like the massive mountain massif in the background an ancient war god who returned to his domain. I went to his side, the fine ash sand crawled under my boots. The heavy gates were divided with an ear-powdering ark, but they opened only a few meters far – the hinges were through the months

The world spun. She hit stone—hard, unyielding. Her shoulder screamed in pain. The ruin they’d once seen from afar now loomed around them, jagged arches rising like ribs of a dead god. Between them pulsed the glow: a gate, vast and veiled, its light crimson, its surface trembling like the skin of a heartbeat. The Gate of Ashes. But the Tribunal had no intention of letting them reach it unscathed.

It makes the fall harder. The iron gates of Brown-Forge Estate appear through the trees. The stones are a deep, dark crimson, cut from the mountain quarries nearby. They look like dried blood. Two guards stand at the checkpoint, their black tactical vests tight against their chests, their spears held loosely in their hands. I stop ten paces from the gate. The gravel beneath my feet is cold. The guard on the left blinks, his eyes widening as he recognizes my face. He drops the tip of his spear, a nasty, mocking sneer twisting his upper lip.

Inside I was rolling my eyes at the load of bull. Something told me the goblin was brainwashed. We reached the gates. They were tall... very. I couldn’t even see the top no matter how I strained my neck from the cage. My lower back also protested. It couldn't be helped. I was restricted to sitting with my knees to my chest or lying on my side—still with my knees to my chest. The gates looked like something out of a dream — or a nightmare dressed up to look pretty. Dark iron, veined with gold so bright it almost hurt to look at. The carvings on them looked like vines and fruit, but the longer I stared, the more wrong they seemed.

Mina had jokingly given the ship a name since its previous name was just a bunch of numbers. "You guys may want to find some cover." Vosten turned to look at her. "Why is that agent?" Carmen smiled. "Because the heat is about to get turned up in here and doubt that you elites could handle it." As she finished, she charged at the company of soldiers standing in front of the doors. She somersaulted over a large desk and drew her pistols and began to fire. Just as she opened fire on the soldiers several medium sized grenades broke through the glass doors and landed in front of the soldiers. Carmen sprayed plasma fire all around in every direction. Multiple soldiers went down and the grenades ex

As they got closer, the gate made a loud rumbling sound of metal machinery in function. The gate opened and a maelstrom of silverstream appeared. The Sovereigns erupted into a harmonious hymn and solemnly bowed to the gate. Len was thunderstruck of the whole thing, and even more so as he watched someone walked out of the silverstream whirl. Len highly doubted whoever came out of the gate as a human, even though it looked like one. It was wearing a similar silver scale robe, but darker in color and added with intricate ornamental shoulderpads. Len wasn't sure whether it was wearing a mask of complicated pattern or it really was just its grotesque face.

Even thee trees are bent and twisted and barren, only covered with spindly sticks that do a poor job at providing coverage for the crows that flock from them. Even though the smog that hovers like a still smoke in the air is heavy and unmoving, the gate that the driver is talking about clearly stands out. It’s a massive black gate made of steel with spear-like pointed tips that are bedazzled with glowing red gems. It’s almost mesmerizing, eventually I have to pull myself away out of a sudden feeling that the jewels have eyes and can not only see me, but see my soul. “They want to search the car.” The driver says in a hurried panic.

It was a scar on the face of the dead world, but a scar that was healing, turning into something new. The main gate of Birkin Shelter was a formidable structure, a reinforced wall of shipping containers and scrap metal, topped with barbed wire and punctuated by two guarded watchtowers. As the blue sedan approached, a figure waved from the left tower, and the heavy, makeshift gate, mounted on shrieking metal rollers, began to grind open just wide enough for the vehicle to pass through.