There’s something fascinating about how certain worlds, though born from completely different pens, end up sharing a strange resonance. That’s exactly the thought I had diving into Gachiakuta by Urana Kei and reflecting on my own city of Avalon, Aria.
Avalon, the capital city of Aria, is divided by the Black Iron Gate—a literal and physical boundary that separates its citizens into two socioeconomically opposed groups. Those within the Upper City live in privilege, artistry, and comfort, while those beyond the gate fight for survival amidst decay and scarcity. The gate isn’t just metal; it’s a manifestation of systemic division, a reminder that geography itself can weaponize inequality.
When I started watching the Gachiakuta anime during its premiere, and now as I’ve been reading through the manga (I’ll be six volumes in once my library copy comes in—counting down the hours!), I couldn’t shake the similarities. Kei’s world is also cut in two: the lofty city above and the brutal Ground, or Pit, where the “disposable” people are cast away. Like Avalon, the structure of Gachiakuta’s setting insists that class separation isn’t just cultural—it’s embedded into the very design of the world.
It’s wild to think that Aria itself began so innocently. Back in eighth grade, my best friend Hannah and I invented the language of Aria mostly for fun. Our “system” was literally just writing the English alphabet backwards (LOL) to stand in for phonetic sounds. It wasn’t worldbuilding so much as two kids inventing secret code. But now, 23 years later, Aria has grown and reshaped itself alongside me, and I can’t help but wonder: if I were to create a real phonetic and lettering system for the nation now, what would it look like? How do you give a land as lived-in as Aria a sound and script that breathes the same life as its politics, myths, and people?
That’s where I think I resonate most with Urana-sensei’s artistry. Her lines are gritty, dynamic, and textured, mirroring a world both beautiful and cruel. Her worldbuilding carries weight because every element feels purposeful. It makes me want to approach Aria not as the language game Hannah and I started, but as a fully fleshed-out cultural ecosystem where language, architecture, and society all grow out of the same soil.
If you’re curious about Kei’s creative process, I highly recommend checking out these interviews and behind-the-scenes looks at her work:
And honestly, the opening theme to Gachiakuta nails the tone—it’s raw, sharp, and totally fitting.
Meanwhile, if you’d like to dive into my own work where worlds and their divisions take center stage, my upcoming release Deckbreaker Arcana: The Arkanthysis Collection is now available for preorder. It’s a dark blend of tarot, fae gothic aesthetics, and dangerous legacies set in Avalon itself:
Avalon may not have the Ground, but it has its own Black Iron Gate. And like Kei’s Gachiakuta, it’s a reminder that stories of divided cities will always hold a mirror to our own world.
Check out Avalon, Aria (my baby of story worlds) through my work. They are short, but enough to sink your heart and teeth into.
Rin Nocturne and Seraphine Vale
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