FROM "RIGHT ON TIME", genesis artwork from 10 x Dynamic 1/1 (RELM #3)

It was midday, but time behaved strangely on Affinity Lane. They’d been on their way to Green Twilight — the renowned carnival of thrill and frequency, where legend said reality could be rewritten, if only for a moment. But the city had a way of redrawing their route. And so they stopped… in front of RELICS. Not everyone noticed it.

Not everyone could. The storefront looked like a simple curiosity shop, cloaked in flickering blues and golds, yet it pulsed with something more ancient than electricity. To the untrained eye, items obeyed no logic. There were crystalline pyramids that vibrated softly in the presence of thought. Cassette tapes that played dreams. Spheres containing archived magic. Video game rectangular boxes. It was like walking through the mind of another civilization. No one knew who ran the various branches of RELICS. They were fragmented across the continents.

After a while the mayors in large cities decided to maintain RELICS. After many years it simply served as one of the many components in determining consensus. RELICS aren’t merely old — they are anchored echoes of pivotal moments in time, objects forged or touched during intersections of heightened consciousness. Each relic is a carrier wave — a transmitter of memory, frequency, and intent from another era, resonating with fragments of the original timeline. In this future, technology has advanced, yes — but wisdom is scarce in the aggregate. Relics retain the original codes from when humanity still remembered how-to live-in harmony with both source and system.

So what are these RELICS? Some say it stood for: Resonant Echoes Linking Infinite Consciousness Signals. Why do only a few know their true value? Well, In a world addicted to immediacy and surface illusion, relics remain invisible to most. To access a relic is to first match its vibration. You don’t “use” them — they respond to remembrance. Only those with deep coherence, clear intent, and ancestral memory can consciously interface with them. They are time encoded artifacts — designed to reveal themselves only when the seeker is aligned enough to handle what they unveil. Whether it’s a pair of glasses once worn by a seer, or a deck of old playing cards — each relic carries a harmonic payload. And if misused or misunderstood, it simply… stays dormant. Like a locked song.

To most, the shop looks like a quirky throwback emporium — snacks, holographic cards, collectibles, even old posters. Each item on the shelf, potentially a quantum trigger — a bridge between now and then, or now and what could be. A curious thought indeed as they pondered the the next stop, the Green Twilight. This is the genesis origin for this token: RELM #3 More 1/1s can be found within each RELM.

FROM "ELIXIA", genesis artwork from 10 x Dynamic 1/1 (RELM #2)

The holographic glow of Luthringen pulsed like a heartbeat beneath the eternal night. Here, where the express highway cut through the city’s underbelly, life flickered between shadow and spectacle. Towering structures loomed overhead, their screens whispering promises of wealth and warning of unseen dangers. Beyond the skyline, beyond the extension, the highway express stretched like a ribbon of steel into the void—the only path to the Outer Worlds.

Under the glow of a 3 Suns sign, a marketplace thrived in the after-hours—a labyrinth of traders, drifters, and those who made a living underneath the Verdant Corporation’s shadow. And here, at the edge of it all, stood Zyrexin. She was a vision in silk and smoke, framed by the luminescence of her alchemical stall. Glass vials filled with liquid light lined the shelves behind her, their contents shifting with energy; potions, elixers and all things wonderful. Her fans snapped open and shut in rhythmic grace, the silent metronome of a woman who never wasted a motion.

She eyed the newcomers—Amani, and Apollo—with a knowing smile. “I hear you’re looking for Orinite,” she said, her voice smooth as running water. “Perhaps I have what you need.” “Orin, actually.” Replied Amani, with his hand inside of his red bomber jacket. Zyrexin’s smile sharpened. “Orin is not something one simply finds. It is stolen, traded, fought for. And those who seek it rarely walk away unscathed.” She traced a finger along the counter, her lacquered nails tapping against the surface. “However… I may know where you can obtain pure Orin.”

Apollo the tiger, himself a survivor from the secretive Orin experimentation of 2020 grumbled back. “And the cost?”

Zyrexin let out a soft laugh, stepping forward into the neon half-light. “A small favor.” The air between them tightened. She reached into her robe and pulled out a data shard, placing it on the counter beside an untouched elixir bottle. “There are… loose ends that need tying,” she said. “Competitors who have forgotten their place. Debts left unpaid. You handle this for me, and in return, I will tell you where the Orin flows pure—untainted, untouched by corporate hands.”

Apollo exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’re talking about the Don’s goons aren’t you?” Amani, peering into the bottle of elixir, “We saw them go the other direction on the way here, they’re long gone by now…”

Zyrexin’s fan snapped shut. “Luthringen seldomly offers a second chance. If you want to track them you better head for the expressway now.” Silence fell. Beyond them, the city thrummed—a relentless pulse of electric life, of deals made in whispers and fates rewritten by the choices of men.

“We’ll handle it.” Amani said assertively.

Zyrexin’s smile returned, this time softer, as if she had known their answer all along.

FROM "NEXUS PASSAGE", genesis artwork from 10 x Dynamic 1/1 (RELM #1)

The night air was heavy with the scent of rain-soaked asphalt in Luthringen, the neon lights reflecting in scattered like fragments of another world. Tarragan thumbed through his phone as he stood outside station platform. It was late, and he wasn’t even sure why he had wandered this far from home. Above the station’s entrance, the digital sign flickered: HARMONIZING, glitched every few seconds, like the system was struggling to hold onto its own reality. “Strange name for a night line,” Tarragan uttered, his voice lost in the ambient hum of the city of Luthringen at night. “Strange? Or fitting?” a voice said in front of him. Tarragan turned to see the figure who had silently appeared just a few feet away. The man was tall, his skin an emerald green that shimmered faintly under the streetlights. His hair was a deep violet, slicked back like a river of amethyst, and he wore a black coat embroidered with golden swirls that seemed to shift and writhe like living things.

“I'm still wondering why only we can see it and others can't?” Tarragan inquired. The green man smiled, revealing sharp, gleaming teeth. “The Harmonizing Line,” he said, gesturing toward the station entrance. “It’s not just a train. It’s a bridge.” “A bridge to where?” Tarragan asked, taking a cautious step back. The man tilted his head, his eyes glinting with an otherworldly light. “Not where. When, what, and how. This train doesn’t just run between stations, T. It runs between dimensions.” Tarragan stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or run. “Right… dimensions. Like, parallel universes? That kind of thing?” “Precisely,” the man said, his voice smooth as silk. He stepped closer to the station entrance. “Each stop is a reality. Some are echoes of this one. Some are vibrant, others less so.” Tarragan frowned, clutching his phone like a lifeline. “Okay, so… if this is a bridge to other dimensions, why are you telling me? Why would I even believe you?” The man chuckled, a low, musical sound that seemed to resonate in Tarragan’s chest. “Why indeed? Perhaps I see potential in you. Or perhaps I’m just bored. Either way, the choice is yours.” He gestured toward the station entrance again. The warm light spilling out from within seemed to pulse, as though it were alive.

“It leaves in three earth minutes. Step inside, and you’ll see for yourself. Or stay here, in your comfortable reality, and wonder forever what might have been.” Tarragan hesitated, glancing at the station and then back at the green man. “This is insane,” he muttered. “Sanity is overrated, relatively speaking, besides look at your phone, it’s the place we’re going to. the man replied as he turned towards the clock. Tarragan’s heart pounded. The world around him—the streets, the buildings, the distant hum of the city—suddenly felt fragile, like a thin veil that could tear at any moment. He looked down at his phone, the glowing screen showing what could be. “What happens if I get on?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The green man’s eyes gleamed. “I would imagine reality as you know it changes, for the better.” The sound of a train approaching rumbled from within the station. Tarragan always thought of himself as practical, grounded. But now, standing on the precipice of something impossible, he felt a pull deep in his chest. The train screeched to a halt below, its doors hissing open. The green man stepped aside, pointing the way. “We have dimensions to heal T.” Tarragan took a deep breath, his feet moving before his brain could catch up.

One step, then another, until he was crossing the threshold into the glowing mouth of the station. It was 1:11 in the morning, Tarragan decided to jump dimensions and to a journey that beyond his wildest imagination.