《Life Was Just a Beta Test: The Adventures of Mosswood Hollow》 Prologue I blinked. One second, I was at my desk, fingers twitching from my fifth espresso, drowning in error logs and server outages. The next¡ªpain. A sharp, crushing weight in my chest, a sudden vertigo, and then¡ªnothing. Until¡­ Cool air brushed my skin. The scent of earth and¡­ pine? filled my lungs. Sunlight filtered through towering trees, their leaves shimmering in impossible shades of green and gold. I sat up. The ground beneath me felt too soft, too alive¡­The hell? This wasn¡¯t my office. My hands pressed into the dirt, fingers sinking slightly into the damp earth. A light breeze sent a ripple through the leaves above, making golden patches of sunlight flicker along the ground. I swallowed hard, my breath coming in short, uneven pulls. Where the hell am I? Had I passed out at my desk? Hit my head? Before I could piece together an answer¡­ ¡°You! What are ya¡¯ doin down there?¡± a burly voice barked. I turned, squinting against the blinding sunlight. A broad-shouldered shadow loomed over me, but the glare made it impossible to make out any details. ¡°My name¡­ is Arthur. I think something¡¯s wrong. I don¡¯t know what happened or how I got here, I¡­¡± I trailed off as the figure stepped forward. Stocky. Barrel-chested. Thick. And short. Really, really short. His shoulders were massive, his arms thick with the kind of strength that came from real labor. There was a weight to the way he stood, solid and unmoving, like nothing short of an earthquake could knock him over. His hair was a wildfire of deep red, thick and untamed, spilling over his shoulders in a wild mane. But it was his beard that truly stole the show¡ªa waist-length curtain of hair, thick as a shield, its ends curling upward slightly, as if defying gravity itself. A single-bladed battle axe rested in one hand, its edge nicked and worn from use. Slung across his back was a musket. I swallowed, trying to take it all in¡ªStocky didn¡¯t even begin to describe this guy. His entire frame was so absurdly wide for his height that he looked like someone had squashed a full-grown man into a half-size, but kept all the muscle. Thick arms, thick legs, thick neck, if he even had one under all that hair. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. And the only thing I could think of, the only logical explanation was... this is¡­ a dwarf? My brain resisted the thought, but what else could he be? My throat went dry. ¡°I asked, what are ya doin¡¯ down there in Bob¡¯s pit?¡± the dwarf grunted. Then the largest hand I had ever seen reached out, offering to help me up. ¡°Thank you!¡± I said while gripping it, only to be hauled out of the hole like I weighed nothing. My feet barely touched the ground before I was set upright, my head still spinning from the sheer force of it. I glanced back at the pit I¡¯d just been yanked from. Freshly dug, uneven, and¡ªhold on. Bob¡¯s pit? I turned to the dwarf, fighting the urge to laugh. ¡°Wait, Bob?¡± As if on cue, a giant pig trotted into view, its tiny, beady black eyes locking onto me with an unsettling intensity. I froze. Bob was huge. Nearly as tall as the dwarf himself, built like a walking fortress of muscle and bristle, and just as wide. His thick, grey hide, scarred from who-knew-how-many fights, rippled as he moved, each step hitting the ground with a dull thud. Curved tusks jutted from his lower jaw, long enough to gut a man in one swipe. And yet¡­ He stood there. Motionless. Mouth slightly agape. Breathing. Just¡­staring. I cleared my throat. Bob did not blink. A bead of drool slipped from his mouth, slow and deliberate. The breathing got louder. Why is this pig breathing so loud? The dwarf exhaled through his nose. ¡°Aye. Bob.¡± I stared at the towering, battle-scarred boar. Bob stared back. This¡­ this was not normal. ¡°I, uh¡­ sorry. I seem to be lost,¡± I said, trying not to trail off, but I couldn''t pull myself from Bob¡¯s gaze. Bob¡¯s nostrils flared. A deep, guttural huff. I took an instinctive half-step back. ¡°Ya¡¯ sure you¡¯re okay? Ya¡¯ look pale,¡± the dwarf said. I shook my head quickly. ¡°No, I¡¯m fine. Thank you. Just¡­ collecting myself after the fall.¡± That wasn¡¯t a lie. I still had no idea where I was or how I got here. ¡°I was¡­ugh¨C I am not sure where I am¡­.¡± The dwarf let out a booming laugh. ¡°You, lad, must¡¯ve come from The Frog Leg.¡± The¡­ Frog Leg? I frowned. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± ¡°The inn,¡± the dwarf said, pointing a finger over my shoulder. I turned¡ªand froze. A massive, two-story building stood just beyond the tree line, built from thick timber and thatched straw. A large, weathered sign swung above the entrance, the painted letters bold and unmistakable: The Frog Leg Inn. ¡°Go on with ya, else Bob might get angry with you messing up his digging pit and all.¡± Bob let out a thick, deliberate grunt, his beady eyes narrowing at me. I swallowed. Did¡­ did that pig just glare at me? I didn¡¯t wait to find out. Without hesitation, I stumbled off toward the inn, putting as much distance as I could between myself and the oversized, judgmental boar. Behind me, the dwarf let out a sigh. ¡°Drunkards¡­ Go on, Bob. Go play.¡± Chapter 1: Welcome to Mosswood Hollow Chapter 1: Welcome to Mosswood Hollow A wooden bench sat just outside The Frog Leg Inn. I collapsed onto it, trying to catch my breath, but I couldn¡¯t. I couldn¡¯t come to my senses. What the hell is going on?! That was clearly a dwarf. And by all accounts, a weird-ass pig with very sharp, very large tusks. But¡­ that didn¡¯t make any sense. I ran a hand down my face, inhaling deeply through my nose. Think. How did I get here? Where is here? The inn behind me creaked as its heavy wooden door slammed open. I jerked, heart lurching in my chest. A woman stepped out, balancing a tray of empty mugs. ¡°I swear to the gods, if you lot spill another pint on the hearth, I¡ª¡± Her words died as her gaze landed on me. I froze. She was beautiful. Long, chestnut-brown hair curled over her shoulders, strands catching in the evening light. A delicate silver-and-blue chain adorned her forehead, slinking down to rest just above her brow. She was graceful. Regal. Effortlessly striking. But none of that is what made my breath hitch. Her ears¡ªLong. Thin. Pointed. Very large. Very pointy. She stared. I stared. Her brow lifted. ¡°You okay?¡± I blinked rapidly, shaking my head. Nope. Nope, I was not okay. I had just met a dwarf. Then a battle-scarred boar. And now an elf? My brain was two steps away from imploding. I forced a laugh. ¡°I¡ªyeah, I¡¯m fine. I just¡­¡± I hesitated, realizing I had no good excuse. ¡°I¡ªuh. I¡¯m new. Sorry. But¡­ could you tell me where, exactly, ¡®here¡¯ is?¡± She tilted her head slightly, an amused flicker crossing her gaze. ¡°Well, this is ¡®The Frog Leg Inn¡¯,¡± she said, gesturing up at the large wooden sign above the door. ¡°And you are in our quaint village of Mosswood Hollow. Middle of nowhere, really.¡± Mosswood Hollow? What kind of name is that? ¡°And the Kingdom of Lunareth is the closest major city in the region,¡± she added, as if that helped. My brain sputtered. Lunareth? Mosswood Hollow? Who even names places like this? They sounded like something ripped straight from a fantasy novel, or some over-the-top medieval map. I tried not to let my face betray me. ¡°Right. Okay. Uh¡­ and where exactly is the Kingdom of Lunareth?¡± She frowned slightly. ¡°Where?¡± ¡°Yeah. Like¡­ in relation to everything else?¡± I gestured vaguely, realizing I had no idea what I meant by ¡®everything else.¡¯ She gave me a long, slow look, then shrugged. ¡°Middle of the continent. East of the Ashen Peaks, so North of here.¡± I nodded as if that meant anything. ¡°Right. Right. Of course.¡± She smirked, crossing her arms. ¡°You really ain¡¯t from around here, huh?¡± I rubbed the back of my head, forcing a too-wide smile. ¡°Not even a little.¡± In reality, I was trying not to have a breakdown. Think. Keep cool. What do I know? I was just at my desk. I blinked, and now I¡¯m here. I just met a dwarf with a giant pig. And now an elf. The logical conclusion? There wasn¡¯t one. This was either the most vivid dream of my life¡­ or I was going insane. I swallowed hard, inhaling through my nose. I needed a plan. A room. A quiet place. Something. Because right now, I was barely holding it together. I cleared my throat. ¡°Thank you. I should, uh¡­ I should be on my way.¡± She raised a brow. ¡°You sure? You look like you¡¯ve seen a ghost.¡± Worse. I saw a dwarf. And then an elf. And neither of them seem to think that¡¯s weird. But I couldn¡¯t say that. Instead, I nodded. ¡°I just need to clear my head.¡± She didn¡¯t push. Instead, she pointed to her right, toward a narrow dirt road winding out of the village. ¡°That way¡¯s North,¡± she said simply. ¡°Right. North. Good.¡± I turned to leave, but hesitated. ¡°What was your name again?¡± ¡°Elunara Grace.¡± I hesitated for half a second before blurting out, ¡°Arthur¡ªArthur Leetstrider.¡± That wasn¡¯t¡­ entirely true. But I had to try and fit in somehow. Elunara just smirked. ¡°Well, Arthur Leetstrider, try not to pass out on the road.¡± I forced a weak chuckle, then quickly walked away. I needed to think. When I reached the bend where the inn began to slip out of sight, I spotted a small creek cutting through the woods¡ªPerfect! I stepped off the road, following the water¡¯s edge. I needed to process all of this¡ªor I was going to throw up. I quickly came upon a large crest, its rocky overhang casting a cool shadow over the bank. Without thinking, I slumped down, planting my elbows on my knees and dropping my head between my legs. Don¡¯t hyperventilate. Just breathe. Okay¡­ okay¡­That was a Dwarf. And an Elf¡­A beautiful Elf. The moment my breathing finally steadied, I became aware of something else¡ªsomething off. My clothes. I wasn¡¯t wearing what I¡¯d had on before¡ªno t-shirt, no jeans. Instead, I had on brown leather boots, loose white linen pants, and a linen short-sleeve shirt. I ran my hands over the fabric. Where the hell did my clothes go? What are these rags?! As I inspected myself, something tugged against my shoulders¡ªstraps. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. I blinked. I¡¯d been wearing a backpack this entire time? What. When? I groaned, shrugging it off and setting it on the ground. The flap was held shut by a leather strap looped around a hook¡ªsturdy, but simple. With a deep breath, I unfastened it. The flap fell open, revealing the contents inside. I looked in¡ªand gasped. A scroll, bound in twisted organic string, rested inside. But it wasn¡¯t just any scroll, it glowed. Tendrils of warped blue and green light flickered from the edges, shifting and curling like living mist. The glow pulsed softly, its hues writhing like something half-alive. I hesitated, then carefully undid the tie. The moment the knot unraveled, the scroll unfurled on its own, snapping open in my hands. The symbols on the parchment twisted and realigned, shifting from nonsensical scribbles into legible words.
Welcome, Summoned One. Whether by fate or miscalculation, your presence is now bound to this world. What you carry belongs to you: Status: No Mark. No Chain. No Oath. This is¡­ unusual. No claim binds you. No master calls for you. You are untethered¡ªunchained. Free to wander. Free to kneel. Free to carve your place in the world, or walk a path of your own making. Purpose is not given. It is chosen. (This message will now be erased.)
A wet pop! echoed from the parchment. Green fire consumed the scroll in an instant, leaving nothing behind¡ªnot even ash. Well, that really didn¡¯t make things easier to understand. Why does everything in these settings have to be so mystical and wise-sounding?! I let out a slow breath, rubbing my temple as I tried to process the ridiculousness of it all. Eventually, I forced myself to stop spiraling and actually looked at my surroundings. And what I saw was¡­ unreal. The trees around me were massive¡ªso huge it would take thirty people holding hands just to wrap around one! But they weren¡¯t just thick¡ªthey were tall, towering endlessly upward. And their leaves? They weren¡¯t just green. Hues of pink, blue, deep browns¡ªcolors I had never seen on a tree before¡ªcreated a dense, cloud-like canopy above me. Sunlight speared through in broken patches, golden rays catching on drifting specks of dust and pollen. The creek beside me twisted lazily for about thirty yards before flowing into a large pond. But the pond itself¡­A thick fog blanketed the surface.It clung to the water like a ghostly veil, swirling gently, almost too still for the faint ripples beneath. This was too surreal. The towering trees. The fog-covered pond. The scroll that literally burned itself into nothing. It all felt too¡­ intentional. My gut twisted. Something about this wasn¡¯t right. That scroll¡ªit wasn¡¯t just welcoming me. It was acknowledging me. As if I wasn¡¯t supposed to be here¡­ but now I was. Bound to this world¡­ No claim binds you¡­ Whether this is a blessing or a mistake remains to be seen¡­ The words turned over in my head, gnawing at the edge of my thoughts. Was I¡­ hijacked? The idea sent a chill down my spine. Summoned. That¡¯s what the scroll had implied. But summoned for what? And what the hell happened to me before that? My breath hitched. A sudden, horrible realization crept up my throat like bile as I remembered my last few seconds before I was here. I¡­ died. Just like that. No epic last words. No dramatic send-off. Just me, slumped over my desk in the middle of patching servers. Mr. Bittles!! That little apple-headed menace of a cat was probably eating my face right now. It probably wasn¡¯t even past noon. My work chat was probably still lighting up with messages like: Ugh. Just when things were finally going well, I worked myself to death. Death by espresso overdose. I let out a breath. No use dwelling on it now. Then¡ªa snap. A sharp crack of a branch behind me. I tensed. Another crunch. Closer this time. Instinct kicked in, and I turned just in time to see something lunging at me. I barely had time to react before a massive, clawed hand slammed into my chest. My foot caught on a root, and I hit the ground hard, the breath punched from my lungs. A snarl¡ªwet, ragged, and way too close. I scrambled back, dirt and leaves catching under my palms. Fur, patchy and matted. A snarling muzzle. Teeth, too many, too sharp. Eyes burning red-orange in the dim light. It wasn¡¯t a wolf. It wasn¡¯t a man. It was somewhere in between. And it was grinning at me. A low, breathy chuckle rumbled from its throat, sharp enough to make my skin crawl. It loomed just beyond arm¡¯s reach, hunched forward, shoulders rolling with every breath. Even hunched over, it was nearly chest height on me, its long limbs coiled with wiry muscle. Its fur was streaked with dirt and old blood, and strips of leather clung to its frame, fastened together like crude armor. Jagged bits of metal¡ªscrap, maybe??¡ªwere lashed to its forearms, shoulders, and chest, overlapping in uneven patches. A scavenger. A predator. And judging by the way its lips peeled back over its fangs, it had already decided I was on the menu. I barely had time to process before it lunged, claws raised. Shit¡ª! My body moved before my brain caught up. In a panicked, jerky motion, my hand shot down, scooping up a fistful of wet mud from the bank. I flung it hard, right between the creature¡¯s eyes. A violent snarl tore from its throat as it staggered back, shaking its head, claws slashing wildly at the air where I¡¯d been seconds ago. I stumbled backward, heart hammering. I was fast. Faster than I should¡¯ve been. I wasn¡¯t in terrible shape before ending up here, but that? That was different. That was a reaction I had no business pulling off. Adrenaline? Panic? ¡ªBOOM! The roar of an explosion cracked through the trees, deafening and raw. I flinched. Hard. When I looked up, there¡ªstanding right above the bank where I¡¯d been sitting minutes ago¡ªwas the dwarf. Musket still raised, a thin wisp of smoke curling from the barrel. And just to his left? Bob. Unmoving. Staring. Breathing. Mouth slightly open. The dwarf gave a casual nod, like we¡¯d just run into each other at a tavern. ¡°Hey there again.¡± I was still trying to process the ringing in my ears when he added, ¡°Hope I didn¡¯t frighten ya. I was just headin¡¯ to the camp to collect the bounty¡ªfigured you were doin¡¯ the same.¡± He trailed off mid-sentence, his sharp gaze sweeping over me. Then, his expression twisted in confusion. "Lad¡­ where ya¡¯ weapons?" A beat of silence. "No sword? No shield?" he continued. I hesitated, glancing down at myself as if a sword might magically appear at my hip. "Oh¡­ yeah. I, uh, must¡¯ve misplaced my things." The dwarf frowned. "Misplaced?" He looked from me to the dead creature, then back again. I could almost see the gears turning in his head, trying to figure out how an unarmed idiot like me had survived long enough for him to intervene. I cleared my throat. "I didn¡¯t have a way to pay for a room at the inn, so I figured I¡¯d rest here instead. But before I could even settle down, that¡ª" I gestured at the bloodied, fur-matted corpse sprawled on the ground. Its limbs were too long, too wiry, and its clawed fingers still curled like they were reaching for me. Slitted nostrils flared even in death, and jagged teeth sat frozen in what could have been a snarl¡­ or a grin. "¡ªthing jumped me." The dwarf¡¯s frown deepened. He glanced back at Bob, then at me again. "If you hadn¡¯t come along¡­" I let the words trail off, unsure of how to finish them. A beat of silence. Then¡ª "Sorry. To be frank¡ªI have no idea where I am. Or how I got here." The dwarf¡¯s brows knit together. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Where are ya¡¯ from, lad, that you don¡¯t even know what a gnoll is?" I opened my mouth¡ªthen shut it again. Good question. Before I could even attempt an answer, the dwarf let out a sigh, shaking his head. "Bromm," he grunted. "Name¡¯s Bromm. Not Frank, An¡¯ I¡¯d wager you owe me a drink." Chapter 2: Bounties and Beards Chapter 2: Bounties and Beards Bromm huffed, adjusting the strap of his musket. ¡°One gold per ear,¡± he said, nodding toward the gnoll¡¯s corpse. ¡°And seein¡¯ as ya¡¯ were the one this bastard was tryin¡¯ to make supper, seems only fittin¡¯ ya¡¯ should at least have some say in this one.¡± I frowned. ¡°Say?¡± He smirked, booting the gnoll¡¯s shoulder so it flopped onto its side. ¡°How¡¯s about ya¡¯ take an ear for yerself, buy me that drink you owe me, an¡¯ then ya¡¯ can tell me and Bob why yer off tryin¡¯ to camp by a creek like some bogmutter.¡± ¡°Bog¡ªwhat?¡± Bromm rolled his eyes. ¡°Bogmutter. Swamp hermit. Smells worse than a wet hog, an¡¯ talks to mushrooms. Ya¡¯ look the part, all things considered.¡± Bob snorted in agreement. I stared at the gnoll. One gold per ear. The thought made my stomach turn, but at the same time, this was real. This was how things worked here I guess. If I wanted to survive, I had to start playing by the rules of this world. I swallowed hard and crouched down, hesitating for only a moment before reaching for my belt¡ªonly to remember I didn¡¯t have a damn knife. ¡°¡­Yeah, uh. One problem.¡± I glanced up at Bromm. ¡°I don¡¯t exactly have anything to take an ear with.¡± He let out a long sigh, then wordlessly reached to his belt and unsheathed a wicked-looking hunting knife. He held it out, hilt first. ¡°Try not to drop it,¡± he muttered. I took it, gripping the handle carefully. The weight felt solid in my hand, the blade sharp enough to shave with. I looked back at the gnoll, exhaling slowly. Okay, here goes nothing. I must have been doing a terrible job. Bromm exhaled heavily through his nose. A slow, deliberate noise. Like he was holding back the overwhelming urge to rip the knife out of my hands and just do it himself. The knife was sharp, wickedly so, but that didn¡¯t help when my hands were shaking and the gnoll¡¯s skin was way tougher than I expected. I pressed harder, trying to saw through the mass, but the blade skidded slightly, catching on thick cartilage. I winced. Oh¡ªthat¡¯s awful. That¡¯s really awful. I stole a glance up at the dwarf. Arms crossed, one brow twitching, watching me like a blacksmith watching some idiot try to hammer nails into iron with the wrong side of the hammer. And Bob? Bob just stared. Unmoving. Unblinking. Breathing. The occasional slow, deliberate snort. The longer I fumbled, the more judgmental that stare became. I wasn¡¯t sure how a pig could radiate disappointment, but Bob had perfected the art. Bromm finally grunted. ¡°Lad. You¡¯re not skinning a potato. Just¡ª¡± He made a vague slicing motion with his fingers. I tried again, gripping the ear firmly and pulling the knife through in one motion. Squick. I immediately regretted everything. The ear came free with a wet snap and¡ªholy hell that was disgusting. I barely resisted the urge to gag. I held it up, queasy but victorious. ¡°Here you go!¡± Bromm just stared at me. ¡°¡­You can just put that one in your bag, lad.¡± I blinked. Then, looking between the ear and Bromm¡¯s unimpressed face, I forced a weak laugh. ¡°Right. Yeah. That makes more sense.¡± Undoing my pack, I dropped the ear inside, trying very hard not to think about it. Bob was still staring. I shot him a look. ¡°What? Never seen a man butcher an ear before?¡± Bob let out a slow, deliberate snort. Bromm sighed. ¡°Alright, that¡¯s enough excitement for one afternoon. Let¡¯s get back to the inn before ya¡¯ make me regret this.¡± Bob snorted in agreement. I exhaled, finally letting some of the tension drain from my shoulders. However long I¡¯d been here, it felt like an hour at least, and I still hadn¡¯t fully processed the fact that I was now carrying a severed gnoll ear in my bag like it was just another Tuesday. Bromm adjusted the strap of his musket and started walking, boots crunching against the dirt. Bob trotted behind him, his massive hooves making the occasional thud against the ground. I fell into step beside them, still catching my breath. The forest felt different now. Less suffocating. The weight of the unknown still lingered, but with Bromm leading the way, it felt¡­ manageable. We followed the creek back toward the inn, the canopy above filtering warm, golden light through the trees. As we walked, the tension in Bromm¡¯s shoulders didn¡¯t quite disappear. He wasn¡¯t exactly tense, but he also wasn¡¯t fully relaxed. Whether that was because of me or because we weren¡¯t exactly out of danger, I wasn¡¯t sure. After a few minutes, the trees thinned, and more buildings came into view. Now that I wasn¡¯t trembling with fear or distracted by potential death, I actually noticed them. The inn wasn¡¯t the only structure here. Perched on the hill just past the Frog Leg Inn was Bromm¡¯s place where I¡¯d first met him (and Bob¡­ and Bob¡¯s pit). A little further down, I spotted a small but sturdy-looking forge, its chimney still faintly smoking. And just across from it, a small white wooden building with a hanging plaque. A sack, stuffed and tied with twine, was painted on the sign¡ªa merchant shop. Bromm gave Bob a quick pat on the side before gesturing toward it. ¡°First things first. Let¡¯s go cash in these ears.¡± Bob rooted at the ground for a moment, then dropped onto his belly with a grunt¡ªclearly unbothered by being left outside. He stretched his front legs out, huffing, as if he¡¯d done this routine a thousand times. Bromm pushed the door open without hesitation, stepping inside. I followed close behind. The shop wasn¡¯t huge. A few wooden glass cases stood throughout, displaying weapons, trinkets, and what looked like alchemical ingredients. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with books, jars, and rolled scrolls, some faintly glowing. The air carried a strange mix of scents¡ªdried herbs, burnt wood, and something sharp and metallic. But the thing that caught my attention first? The broom. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. It hovered near the front desk, sweeping the floor on its own. Its bristles shuffled against the wood with a faint swish, swish. Okay. That¡¯s new. I thought. Before I could say anything, a grumbling voice snapped through the shop. ¡°If it ain¡¯t the bearded powder-keg himself,¡± the shopkeeper muttered, not even bothering to look up. ¡°Back already? You run outta shot or outta patience?¡± I turned¡ªand froze. The small man¡ªor, what I could only assume was a gnome¡ªwas barely three feet tall, with wild tufts of white hair sticking out in all directions, barely kept in check by a pointed hat that looked like it had been shoved on in a hurry. Thick, round glasses perched on the end of his nose, magnifying sharp, beady eyes that flicked between Bromm and me with immediate suspicion. Behind him, a quill scratched notes onto parchment all on its own, scribbling away without a hand to guide it. Bromm snorted. ¡°Neither. Just got business.¡± The gnome¡¯s gaze finally landed on me. He narrowed his eyes, sniffing sharply. ¡°¡­And who in the hells is this?¡± I blinked. ¡°Uh, Hi.¡± His bushy white eyebrows shot up over his glasses. ¡°It talks. That¡¯s a start.¡± I opened my mouth to respond¡ªbut Bromm smirked and thunked something onto the counter. A severed gnoll ear. The gnome barely reacted. If anything, he looked¡­ mildly impressed. ¡°Huh,¡± he muttered, leaning in slightly. ¡°Not bad. Ugly thing, though.¡± ¡°Would¡¯ve been uglier if I¡¯d let it live,¡± Bromm said. The quill that had been writing froze. Then, the gnome barked out a laugh. ¡°Ha! Alright, I¡¯ll give ya that one.¡± He straightened, brushing off his robes. ¡°So. What¡¯s the deal? Bromm smirked at me, then subtly flicked his eyes toward the counter. Right. The ear. I stepped forward and placed it down, trying to ignore the wet slap as it hit the wood. The gnome peered at it. His face remained blank for all of two seconds before his nose wrinkled like he¡¯d just caught a whiff of something rancid. Slowly, he turned his beady-eyed gaze back to me. ¡°¡­You expect me to give you a gold piece for this?¡± I glanced down. Yeah. That¡­ wasn¡¯t my best work. It was technically an ear, sure, but it looked like I¡¯d hacked it off with a spoon. Torn edges, uneven cut, bits of fur still clinging to it in places. Bromm chuckled. ¡°It was his first time. Give him a break.¡± The gnome sighed deeply, rubbing his temples as if reconsidering every life choice that led him to this moment. Then he turned back to me. ¡°Arthur, was it?¡± I nodded. He huffed. ¡°Zibbin Fizzlegear. I run the shop. Which means I deal with every dead-eyed, axe-swinging lunatic that walks in here trying to sell off monster bits.¡± His glare sharpened. ¡°But this,¡± he jabbed a stubby finger at the ear, ¡°is a disgrace. I¡¯ll only tell you this once¡ªif you ever bring an ear that is this butchered in here again, you won¡¯t even see fifty silver for it, let alone a full gold.¡± I swallowed. ¡°Uh¡­ noted.¡± Zibbin let out another long-suffering sigh, then reached under the counter. A moment later, he slapped a single gold coin onto the wood. ¡°There,¡± he muttered. ¡°But don¡¯t expect mercy next time.¡± I exhaled in relief, snatching up the coin before he could change his mind. Bromm smirked. ¡°Told ya he¡¯d give ya a break.¡± Zibbin shot him a glare. ¡°Don¡¯t push it, powder-beard.¡± The quill behind him resumed its furious scribbling. I wasn¡¯t sure if I should be insulted or relieved. Either way, I had my first gold piece. As we stepped out of the shop, I turned to Bromm. ¡°Say¡­ two gold per gnoll. That seems pretty high, doesn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Aye,¡± he said simply. I frowned. ¡°So why is it?¡± Bromm adjusted the strap of his musket. ¡°Because we¡¯re far from a major settlement. Not a lot of foot traffic, not a lot of willing bodies to help. An¡¯ here? Here it¡¯s especially bad.¡± He shot me a glance. ¡°These gnolls ain¡¯t just some scattered mongrels. They¡¯re organized.¡± I blinked. ¡°Organized?¡± ¡°Aye.¡± Bromm gestured toward a wooden board standing in front of the shop. ¡°Job board.¡± I followed his gaze¡ªand my stomach tightened. Dozens of notices were plastered across the front. Some were hastily scrawled, others stamped with the official-looking seal of some governing body, but majority of them had one thing in common. *Gnoll Sightings Reported Near the Hollow.* *Wanted: Gnoll Raiders - Two Gold Per Ear.* *Extermination Request: GNOLLS!¡ªImmediate Action Needed.* My throat went dry. Bromm tapped a finger against one of the parchments. ¡°The more organized a gnoll clan is, the more brazen they get. Attackin¡¯ farms, stealin¡¯ from carts¡ªhell, some get bold enough to raid villages outright.¡± He exhaled sharply. ¡°An¡¯ out here? They¡¯re the worst I¡¯ve ever seen.¡± I stared at the board. The sheer number of requests¡ªsome old, some freshly pinned¡ªmade my skin crawl. ¡°¡­And the one I ran into?¡± I asked quietly. Bromm folded his arms. ¡°Alone. Means it was likely on its way to their base to join up with the rest of the clan.¡± I swallowed hard and turned back to the board, scanning the other requests. Not all of them were about gnolls: *Alchemist Seeking Glowmoss ¨C Paying Five Silver Per Bundle.* *Missing: Tabby, Grey Stripes ¨C Last Seen Near the Grain Mill.* *Caravan Guards Needed ¨C Competitive Pay, Meals Provided.* *WARNING: DO NOT APPROACH THE OLD WELL. Strange sightings reported.* *Stable Hand Wanted ¨C Experience Preferred. Must Be Good With Horses.* My eyes flicked back to the one about the well, my gut twisting. Strange sightings? That felt... ominous. Bromm must¡¯ve noticed, because he scoffed. ¡°Heh. Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re interested in that one.¡± I shook my head. ¡°Just¡ªtaking it all in.¡± The world felt bigger now. More real. There were people living here, needing help, doing normal, everyday things. It wasn¡¯t all just monsters and death. Bromm grunted. ¡°C¡¯mon. We¡¯ll grab that drink before ya¡¯ start gettin¡¯ ideas.¡± Chapter 3: Tavern Talk Chapter 3: Tavern Talk Bromm led the way back to the inn, his boots crunching against the dirt path. The evening air had cooled, but as we neared The Frog Leg, something warm and inviting cut through the crisp breeze. A rich, nutty aroma curled through the air¡ªsweet, earthy, and unbelievably mouthwatering. I inhaled deeply, my stomach tightening with sudden, primal hunger. ¡°Oh, man. What is that smell?¡± Bromm smirked. ¡°Heh, that¡¯d be Ferowen.¡± I blinked. ¡°Ferowen?¡± ¡°Wild Loaf Bread,¡± he clarified. ¡°Good eatin¡¯. Made from foraged nuts an¡¯ wild grains. Got a bit of honey in it, too. The lass runnin¡¯ the kitchen at The Frog Leg bakes a fresh batch every few days.¡± My stomach growled in response. I hadn¡¯t even thought about food until now, but that scent flipped a switch in my brain. Whatever that bread was, I needed it in my life. Immediately. Bromm chuckled. ¡°Aye, you¡¯ll like it. But first¡­¡± He patted the coin pouch at his hip. ¡°That drink.¡± I grinned. ¡°Yeah. I think you¡¯ve earned it.¡± With that, we stepped through the inn¡¯s heavy wooden doors, the warm glow of lantern light spilling out to welcome us inside. If I had been asked to picture the perfect fantasy tavern, this would¡¯ve been it. The place was alive¡ªloud, warm, and packed with more personality than I knew what to do with. Massive kegs lined the back wall, their taps dripping frothy white foam into overflowing tankards. A lively band played something fast and upbeat, the kind of tune that made you want to tap your foot whether you meant to or not. In the center of the room, a wide stone hearth housed a roaring fire, its flames licking upward and casting golden light across the ceiling beams. The air hummed with conversation, the lanterns casting a warm glow across worn wooden tables. The scent of roasted meat, spiced ale, and the faint tang of wood smoke thickened the air. Laughter rang out from a group of humans near the hearth¡ªhunters, judging by their rough leathers and the battered bows propped against the wall. One of them, a burly man with a patchwork cloak slung over his shoulders, slammed a scarred hand down on the table, barking out a victory as dice clattered across the wood. His companions groaned, one tossing a coin onto the pile in defeat. At another table, another pair of humans¡ªarguing over a rolled piece of parchment, their voices low but sharp, each jabbing a finger at whatever deal they were trying to cut. One wore a dark blue doublet embroidered with silver thread, while the other, in a patched and stained vest, scowled over a tankard that was half-empty. Most of the patrons were human, their faces weathered from travel or work, their clothes simple but well-worn¡ªtunics rolled to the elbows, sturdy boots caked in dirt, belts weighed down with pouches and small tools. But a few stood out. Near the bar, two dwarves sat side by side, yet they couldn¡¯t have been more different. One sat in silence, his beard tucked neatly into his belt as he studied a mug of ale like it held the answers to life itself. His heavy wool coat, dusted with travel grime, stretched over broad shoulders, its sleeves rolled up to reveal thick forearms crisscrossed with faded scars. Beside him, his companion was the complete opposite¡ªbroader, louder, and already deep into his cups. He clapped a heavy hand on the counter, gesturing wildly as he spoke, his thick leather jerkin, reinforced with iron studs, creaking as he threw his head back in laughter. His cheeks were flushed, his voice booming over the din, words slurring at the edges as he regaled the bar with some exaggerated tale. The first dwarf merely exhaled, shaking his head as he sipped his drink. In the farthest corner, two elves sat side by side, their posture relaxed but their sharp eyes flicking across the room¡ªever watchful. One, draped in deep green robes embroidered with delicate gold filigree, absentmindedly traced a pattern into the condensation on their glass, while the other, wrapped in a dark cloak with the hood resting against their shoulders, listened intently, their expression unreadable. Bromm led the way to a sturdy table near the hearth, its surface worn with the marks of a thousand past conversations. The stools weren¡¯t just simple wooden seats¡ªthey were heavy, reinforced with iron bands, built to withstand rowdy drunks and the occasional bar brawl. The kind of seating that promised you¡¯d leave with a sore ass if you sat too long. As soon as we settled in, a familiar voice cut through the noise. ¡°Well now, look who finally decided to show his face again.¡± I turned just in time to see Elunara saunter up to our table, one hand on her hip, the other balancing a tray of empty mugs. Her violet eyes flicked between Bromm and me, curiosity clear in her gaze. ¡°Didn¡¯t think I¡¯d see you again so soon, Leetstrider,¡± she mused. ¡°Figured you¡¯d either be halfway to another town by now or buried in a ditch.¡± I huffed out a weak laugh. ¡°Barely. But, hey¡ªI¡¯m still breathing.¡± Bromm snorted. ¡°Barely.¡± Elunara raised a brow. ¡°Mm-hmm. I¡¯m guessing there¡¯s a story there.¡± ¡°Oh, there is,¡± Bromm said, pulling out a gold coin and setting it on the table with a clink. ¡°But first¡ªdrinks.¡± Elunara smirked, tucking the gold coin away with a practiced flick of her fingers. "Now that¡¯s something I can help with." She turned and disappeared into the crowd, weaving between tables with the kind of effortless grace that came from years of dodging drunken patrons. Bromm leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms as he scanned the room. "Good place, this," he muttered. "¡¯Bit rowdy some nights, but that¡¯s what makes it home." A moment later, Elunara returned, balancing two foaming tankards. She set them down with a satisfying ¡ªthunk. "There." She smirked, "Try not to get yourselves killed before the second." I chuckled, wrapping my fingers around the handle. The tankard was heavy, the wood cool beneath my touch. Bromm raised his own, tilting it in my direction. ¡°Drink up, lad. You¡¯ve earned it.¡± Not needing to be told twice, I took a sip. Oh. I wasn¡¯t sure what I was expecting¡ªsomething harsh, bitter, maybe¡ªbut this? This was good. Really good. It was rich, malty, with a hint of caramel and something else I couldn¡¯t place. Before I could comment, Bromm leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. ¡°So,¡± he said, ¡°ya¡¯ gonna tell me your story, lad?¡± I hesitated, glancing up at him. ¡°What story do you think that is?¡± Bromm snorted. ¡°Well, it¡¯s clear enough ya¡¯ ain¡¯t from here. The way ya¡¯ looked when that gnoll came at ya¡¯? Might as well¡¯ve had a sign ¡®round your neck sayin¡¯ ¡®Fresh Meat.¡¯¡± He took a slow sip of his ale, watching me over the rim. ¡°An¡¯ gnolls? They¡¯re nowhere near the deadliest thing that hunts in the Hollow. So there ain¡¯t no way ya¡¯ just stumbled all the way out here.¡± Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. I exhaled, tapping a finger against my tankard. ¡°I, uh¡ªit¡¯s that obvious, huh?¡± Bromm smirked. ¡°Aye. Can¡¯t imagine how ya¡¯ must¡¯ve looked, dumbfounded in Bob¡¯s digging pit.¡± I let out a laugh. ¡°Yeah, that wasn¡¯t my finest moment.¡± Bromm shrugged. ¡°Well¡­ the pit, I just figured ya¡¯ were a drunkard. It was more the gnoll encounter that gave ya¡¯ away.¡± I huffed, shaking my head. ¡°Great, so I looked completely useless.¡± Bromm chuckled. ¡°Not completely. Ya¡¯ made it through, at least.¡± I took another sip, letting the warmth of the ale settle in my stomach. Should I tell him? How much? No one here knew what a computer was, let alone what Earth was. Hell, for all I knew, people would think I was crazy¡ªor worse. Still¡­ Bromm didn¡¯t seem like the type to take kindly to dodged questions. I swallowed hard, then set my tankard down. ¡°¡­Alright,¡± I said, inhaling slowly. ¡°This might take a while.¡± Bromm took a long sip of his ale, waiting. His expression wasn¡¯t impatient, but it was expectant¡ªlike a man who¡¯d already put the pieces together and was just waiting for confirmation. I exhaled through my nose, rubbing the back of my neck. ¡°Alright¡­ I guess I¡¯d better start from the beginning.¡± Bromm smirked, then waved Elunara down. ¡°Another for the lad. An¡¯ one for me while yer at it.¡± She raised her brow but didn¡¯t argue, disappearing into the crowd. I tapped my fingers against the table, choosing my words carefully. ¡°Look¡­ I don¡¯t know how I got here.¡± That much was true. ¡°One second, I was sitting at my desk¡ª¡± Bromm tilted his head. ¡°Desk?¡± Crap¡ª ¡°Uh¡­ yeah. My¡­ workstation.¡± I coughed. ¡°A place where I did work. Inside. A lot of numbers. Logs.¡± Bromm frowned like he was trying to figure out if I was serious. I waved a hand. ¡°Not important. Point is, I was working. Then out of nowhere¡ªBAM.¡± I tapped my chest. ¡°Something hit me, hard. It felt like my lungs just¡­ stopped working. Next thing I know, I¡¯m waking up in Bob¡¯s pit with you looming over me.¡± Bromm¡¯s brows pulled together. ¡°Ya¡¯ just¡­ woke up?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± I exhaled. ¡°No idea how. No idea why. Just there.¡± The dwarf¡¯s gaze was sharp, but he didn¡¯t say anything right away. Just took another slow sip of his drink. I hesitated, then leaned forward. ¡°There was one thing, though.¡± Bromm arched his brow. ¡°Aye?¡± I swallowed. ¡°There was a scroll in my bag when I woke up. Looked¡­ expensive. Bound in twisted string, symbols glowing on the parchment.¡± I hesitated. ¡°It had a message.¡± Bromm leaned in slightly. ¡°What kind of message?¡± I ran a hand down my face. ¡°It called me Summoned. Said I was ¡®bound to this world.¡¯¡± I met his gaze. ¡°It also said I had ¡®No Mark. No Chain. No Oath.¡¯¡± Bromm¡¯s expression darkened slightly. I shifted. ¡°Then, before I could even process it, it burned itself up. Poof¡ªgone. Not even ash left behind.¡± For a long moment, Bromm just stared. Then, slowly, he exhaled through his nose. ¡°Hells.¡± ¡°¡­Hells?¡± I repeated. ¡°That¡¯s all you¡¯ve got?¡± Bromm took another slow drink, setting his tankard down with a thud. ¡°Means someone¡ªor somethin¡¯¡ªcalled ya¡¯ here.¡± I frowned. ¡°But the message made it sound like it wasn¡¯t intentional.¡± The dwarf¡¯s lips pressed into a thin linen . ¡°Aye, which might be worse.¡± Great. Fantastic. Exactly what I wanted to hear. I sat back in my chair, rubbing my temples. ¡°So. That¡¯s my story.¡± Bromm studied me for a long moment. Then, finally, he sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. ¡°Well, lad¡­ I¡¯ve heard worse.¡± I blinked. ¡°¡­That¡¯s it?¡± The dwarf snorted. ¡°What, ya¡¯ want me to throw ya¡¯ out the door? Call ya¡¯ a liar?¡± He shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ve seen a lot of things in my years. A lad falling from the sky? Not the strangest.¡± I wasn¡¯t sure if that made me feel better or worse. He leaned back in his chair, eyeing me thoughtfully. ¡°So, what now?¡± I opened my mouth¡ªthen hesitated. Because honestly? I had no idea. My fingers curled around my tankard as I glanced toward the window. The orange and red glow of the setting sun spilled through the glass, stretching long shadows across the inn¡¯s wooden floor. The sky was shifting¡ªwarm golds fading into deeper shades of blue. It¡¯d be dark soon. Elunara slid two plates onto the table with practiced ease, the scent of warm bread and roasted meat pulling me from my thoughts. ¡°Eat up,¡± she said, smirking as she wiped her hands on her apron. ¡°You look like you need it.¡± She wasn¡¯t wrong. I nodded in thanks before tearing off a chunk of the dark, nutty-smelling bread. The first bite hit like a hammer¡ªcrisp crust, soft center, slightly sweet but rich with butter. If nothing else, I could die happy knowing fantasy bread was amazing. Bromm chewed through his food methodically, washing it down with ale before finally speaking again. ¡°So¡­¡± He tapped a finger against the table. ¡°No clue how ya¡¯ got here. No weapons and no coin.¡± I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. ¡°Pretty much sums it up.¡± Bromm smirked. ¡°Sounds like a rough start.¡± He leaned back, considering something. ¡°Though¡­ I might know someone who can help.¡± I perked up. ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°Aye.¡± Bromm took another swig of ale. ¡°Not far from here, there¡¯s a mage. Knows all sorts of spells, but more importantly¡ªknows his history.¡± He shot me a look. ¡°Served in the The Umbral Arcanum, back in the day.¡± I raised a brow. ¡°The Umbral Arcanum?¡± Bromm grunted. ¡°Elite military unit. Dealt with things most folk don¡¯t like to talk about.¡± He drummed his fingers against the wood. ¡°If there¡¯s anything tied to summonin¡¯¡ªor misfires¡ªhe might be able to make sense of it.¡± I exhaled, leaning back in my chair. ¡°Well¡­ that¡¯s something.¡± Bromm snorted. ¡°Aye. Just a warnin¡¯, though¡ªhe¡¯s¡­ odd.¡± I frowned. ¡°Odd how?¡± Bromm took a slow drink. ¡°Not in a dangerous way. Just¡­ well, he argues with things that ain¡¯t there, gets into shouting matches with his own spells, and once threw a book out a window ¡®cause it gave him an attitude.¡± I blinked. ¡°I¡ªwhat?¡± Bromm shrugged. ¡°Says it was being ¡®deliberately vague.¡¯¡± ¡°¡­Right.¡± He leaned forward. ¡°Smart as hell, though. Knows magic better than anyone. Just don¡¯t be surprised if he interrupts himself mid-sentence to yell at a chair.¡± I exhaled, rubbing my temple. ¡°So, my best hope for answers is a wizard who beefs with furniture?¡± Bromm smirked. ¡°Welcome to the Hollow, lad.¡± I stared down at my plate. Waking up in a hole, fighting a gnoll, nearly dying, and now, somehow, I was about to track down a mage who may or may not be completely unhinged. I reached for my ale, taking a long drink. Bromm drained the last of his, then pushed his tankard aside. ¡°Best get some rest, lad.¡± He stood, rolling his shoulders before giving me a pointed look. ¡°If you¡¯re still set on seein¡¯ that mage, come find me in the mornin¡¯. We¡¯ll head out then.¡± I hesitated for a moment, then nodded. ¡°Yeah¡­ alright. Sounds like a plan.¡± Elunara appeared at the table just as Bromm turned to leave. She arched her brow. ¡°Need a room?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯d be great.¡± She smirked. ¡°Lucky for you, we¡¯ve got one open. Just don¡¯t go jumping out the window or anything.¡± I blinked. ¡°Why would I¡ª¡± Bromm snorted. ¡°Don¡¯t ask.¡± Elunara chuckled and tossed me a key. ¡°Upstairs, second door on the left.¡± I caught it, rolling it over in my palm. ¡°Nice¡ª bed that isn¡¯t a pile of dirt? Moving up in the world.¡± Bromm stretched, cracking his neck. ¡°Get some sleep, Leetstrider.¡± With that, he made his way toward the door, Bob already waiting outside. The moment the door swung open, the pig let out a deep, heavy snort before trotting off into the night. I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. Yeah, tomorrow was going to be interesting. Chapter 4: Steel, Squeals, and Stories Chapter 4: Steel, Squeals, and Stories I woke up to the scent of fresh, nutty bread still hanging in the air. Warm, sweet, and a little earthy. The kind of smell that made your stomach grumble before your brain fully caught up. I inhaled deep, letting it sink in¡ªthis was real, this was happening. I¡¯ve always been the ¡°roll-with-the-punches¡± kind of guy. Never let things dwell too long. But this? This was different. Mages? Summonings? Freaking dwarves with muskets? It was INSANE. And yet, lying there in an actual bed, in an actual inn, with the soft glow of morning filtering through the wooden shutters¡­I grinned. Because this? This was awesome. I wasn¡¯t sure if I¡¯d been transported, reincarnated, or just dropped into someone¡¯s half-finished D&D campaign, but no matter what¡ªthis world was mine now. And I was going to enjoy the hell out of it. Just as I was about to stretch and fully enjoy my moment of peace¡ª A screeching, unholy wail tore through the morning air. Not a rooster. Not a horn. Not anything even remotely normal. This was a full-throated, gut-churning, banshee-on-fire squeal, rattling the walls and making my teeth vibrate in my skull. A shrill, drawn-out ¡°SKREEEEEEE¡ª¡±. I bolted upright, eyes wide. What the actual hell¡ª?! And then, just as my brain caught up, the noise ended with a sharp, satisfied snort. It was Bob. Of course it was Bob. I ran to the door, shoving my boots on as fast as I could. Whatever the hell that noise was, it sounded urgent¡ªor deadly. Possibly both. When I stepped outside, a crowd had already gathered near where Bob was having a full-blown meltdown. The massive, tusked beast was going in furious circles, stomping and squealing like a vengeful war god. Nearby, Bromm was planted firmly, arms crossed, looking equal parts amused and exhausted. As I got closer, I could finally make out Bromm¡¯s thick voice over the commotion. ¡°Now now, Bob, ya¡¯ can¡¯t just leave your things out in the open like that! You know how Tufftails are! They hoard everythin¡¯ they see on the ground!¡± Bob let out another ear-piercing squeal, whipping around like he was about to personally declare war on the universe. I slowed my approach, eyes darting between the towering pig, the laughing onlookers, and Bromm who, at this point, had just noticed me standing there. I exhaled, rubbing my temples. "Is this how you guys wake up every morning? I¡¯m used to roosters¡ªnot screaming mad pigs.¡± Bromm let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Aye. Welcome to the Hollow, lad.¡± Bob finally stopped his tantrum, though his nostrils still flared, and he stomped the ground for good measure just to make sure everyone knew he was still mad. Across from him, a fat, squirrel-like creature with a fluffy tail sat perched atop a crate. So that¡¯s a Tufftail. The animal had reddish-brown fur with big, rounded ears and a small pink nose that sniffed at its prize, its small, rodent-like hands clutching what looked like¡­ an apple. A very familiar apple. Bob huffed violently, snorting so hard dust kicked up from the ground. The little creature let out a chirping chitter, nibbling a tiny chunk from the apple¡¯s side before darting off at an impossible speed. Bob let out another ear-piercing squeal, stomping again like he was considering an all-out war, but ultimately didn¡¯t give chase. Probably because he knew he¡¯d never catch the thieving little bastard. I shook my head. "Right. So, uh, are we just gonna pretend that was normal?" Bromm smirked. "Oh, that was a quiet mornin¡¯, lad. But enough about Bob. We still goin'' to see that mage, or are ya havin'' second thoughts?" I rolled my shoulders, exhaling. "Nah, I need answers. And if this guy knows anything about what may have caused me to get here, then it¡¯s worth the trip." Bromm nodded approvingly, then eyed my empty belt. "Then first thin¡¯s first¡ªyer gonna need more than ya¡¯ fists if somethin¡¯ nasty jumps us on the road. Best stop by the blacksmith and see Haldrek before we head out. See what we can scrounge up with the silver ya¡¯ got left." I hesitated. My gold was already gone, spent on the room and drinks. All I had left were a few silver pieces and some loose copper. I frowned. "Think that''ll even be enough to get anything decent?" Bromm shrugged. "Dunno. Ain¡¯t much, but it¡¯s better than nothin¡¯. And trust me, lad¡ªya¡¯ don¡¯t wanna be caught in the wild without a proper weapon." I sighed, adjusting my pack. "Alright, let¡¯s see what they¡¯ve got." Bromm grunted in approval and turned toward the blacksmith, leading the way with his usual heavy, sure-footed steps. Bob trailed after us, still snorting in residual anger over his stolen breakfast. As we walked through the village, the air gradually shifted¡ªthe crisp morning breeze giving way to the thicker, hotter scent of burning coals and scorched metal. Ahead, the blacksmith loomed¡ªa squat, medium-sized stone building, sturdy and well-worn. It had no door, just a wide, open entrance that led straight into the forge, where the loud, rhythmic clang of steel meeting steel echoed through the air. A towering chimney stack stretched skyward, belching out thick, rolling plumes of black smoke. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. The heat hit me instantly as we stepped inside, rolling over my skin like I had walked straight into an oven. The forge itself was a mess of tools, half-finished weapons, and racks of gear, some gleaming new, others rusted and in various states of repair. Several anvils sat around the space, each worn from years of use. And in the center of it all stood Haldrek the Smith. He was a mountain of a man, all corded muscle and soot-streaked skin. His arms were thick, covered in burns and old scars. A long leather apron was strapped over his chest, and a thick, wild beard framed his face. He stood over a heated blade, hammer raised high, before slamming it down with a deafening CLANG. Sparks flared, lighting up the dim space in bursts of fiery orange. Bromm cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed, "HALDREK! YA¡¯ LAZY OX, YA¡¯ STILL ALIVE IN ¡®ERE?" Haldrek didn¡¯t even flinch. Without looking up, he grunted, "Still breathin¡¯¡­.Barely. What the hell do ya¡¯ want, Bromm?" Bromm smirked, jerking a thumb at me. "Got a lad here who needs a weapon. Somethin'' that won¡¯t break the first time he swings it." Haldrek finally looked up, squinting at me through the haze of smoke and heat. His sharp, steel-gray eyes raked over me, lingering on my empty belt, my travel-worn clothes, and my general aura of I have no idea what I¡¯m doing. Then, after a long moment, he grunted. "Tell me he¡¯s got more than a handful of coppers." Bromm smirked, crossing his arms. "Not much." Haldrek sighed deeply, rubbing his face with a soot-covered hand. "Figures¡ªFine. Let¡¯s see what scraps I got." With that, he turned and stomped toward a rack of old, battered looking weapons. I exchanged a glance with Bromm, who just smirked and leaned against a workbench, clearly enjoying the show. After a few moments, Haldrek grunted and turned back around, holding a small, one-handed hatchet axe in one hand and a round, slightly dented buckler shield in the other. He shoved them toward me without ceremony. "Here¡ªBest I can do for what you got." I took them, weighing them in my hands. The axe was¡­basic. Single-bladed, short-handled, and worn smooth from use. The edge was sharp, but not freshly honed. The leather-wrapped grip was stiff but fit well in my palm. It wasn¡¯t fancy, but it was functional. The buckler wasn¡¯t much better. Small, round, simple iron, with a few dents along the rim. The leather straps on the back were cracked from age, but they still held firm as I adjusted it onto my forearm. I turned them over, expecting to feel disappointment. But as soon as I gripped the axe properly, something¡­ clicked. I didn¡¯t know why, but the weight felt natural. I gave it a slow, testing swing, letting the movement flow instinctively. It felt right. Not perfect¡ªnot like I was some kind of hidden warrior prodigy¡ªbut right. Like my body already knew how to use it, even if my mind hadn¡¯t caught up yet. Weird¡­ I tightened my grip on the handle and rolled my wrist with the buckler, getting a feel for how it moved. Light. Maneuverable. Not the best defense, but it was better than bare hands. Haldrek grunted. "Well? You just gonna admire ¡®em, or ya plannin¡¯ to pay me sometime today?" I blinked, then smirked and tossed him a few silver coins. "I¡¯ll take ¡®em." He snatched the coins out of the air without even looking, shoving them into his apron pocket. "Good. Try not to lose ¡®em in your first fight." Bromm chuckled. "He won¡¯t, he¡¯s got me watchin¡¯ his back." Haldrek snorted. "Oh, aye, because you¡¯re so known for keepin¡¯ folk outta trouble." Bromm grinned. "And known for gettin¡¯ them into trouble as well!" Haldrek just shook his head, muttering something under his breath before turning back to his forge. I gave the axe one last swing, still feeling that odd familiarity with the motion, then strapped it to my belt. I wasn¡¯t sure what to make of it. Maybe it was just the rush of actually having a weapon. Maybe it was some weird muscle memory I didn¡¯t know I had. Either way, it felt right. As our business at the smith concluded and I secured my new axe and shield, I felt a little better about traveling with Bromm into the great unknown. To visit a mage. A freaking mage. The thought alone made me grin. My life had gone from backing up servers to preparing for some mystical consultation with a spell-slinging hermit. It was almost too ridiculous to believe. We headed north, following the familiar dirt path that led out of the Hollow. It didn¡¯t take long before we came up on the creek¡ªthe very same one I had wandered down yesterday while trying to piece together the madness of this world. I glanced at Bromm as we walked, curiosity getting the better of me. "So¡­ what¡¯s the story with Bob?" I asked, adjusting my buckler strap. "I don¡¯t think I ever actually asked you." Bromm¡¯s bushy brows lifted slightly, like the question had caught him off guard. I smirked. "I mean, it¡¯s kind of a very¡­ basic name, isn¡¯t it?" Bromm let out a low chuckle. "Aye¡­ it is." For a moment, he didn¡¯t say anything else. Just kept walking, boots crunching against the dirt, his usual smirk fading into something a little more distant. Then, finally, he spoke. "He¡¯s named after the one who gave him to me¡ªmy old companion, Robert." That caught me off guard. Bromm exhaled through his nose. "He joked that the piglet¡¯s fury reminded him of me. Said I ought to take in ¡®a smaller version of myself.¡¯" His voice was lighter, but there was something heavy beneath it."It was one of the last things he ever said to me." Bromm paused, eyes flicking toward Bob, who was currently trotting along a few paces ahead¡ªseemingly content now that his apple-thieving nemesis was out of sight. He gave a small shrug. "So¡­ here we are." I didn¡¯t say anything right away. It wasn¡¯t much of a story. But at the same time, it was. I glanced at Bob, watching the massive pig stomp along with purpose, and suddenly, his ridiculous name¡­ didn¡¯t seem so ridiculous anymore. "Huh," I muttered. "Guess Bob¡¯s got a bit of a legacy, then." Bromm grinned, but there was something softer about it now. "Aye. That he does." Chapter 5: The Hollow Madness Chapter 5: The Hollow Madness The landscape shifted as we moved further away from the Hollow. The towering, thick-barked trees that loomed over the village began to thin, their purple-hued leaves fading into deeper shades of green and brown. The further we traveled, the denser the undergrowth became. Thick patches of moss crept up tree trunks, their roots disappearing into the damp, blackened soil beneath our boots. The air grew heavier, the fresh morning breeze replaced with something thicker, more humid. It wasn¡¯t exactly choking, but there was a wetness to it, the kind that clung to your clothes and left a faint sheen of moisture on your skin. Mushrooms¡ªbig, small, glowing, and clustered in tangled webs¡ªbegan to dot the landscape, sprouting along tree roots, nestled against rocks, and in strange, unnatural formations along the bog-like patches of land. Pools of murky, still water sat just off the path, reflecting the sky in an eerie, oil-slick shimmer. The road beneath us was still firm, but the edges were soft and damp, crawling with tiny insects skittering across the surface. Everything felt alive here, but in a different way than the Hollow. The Hollow had felt welcoming and sturdy, old but comforting. This? This felt swallowed up. Claimed. Like the land itself was watching. I adjusted the grip on my buckler, scanning the trees around us. ¡°So¡­ you don¡¯t seem too concerned about¡­you know¡­ anything.¡± Bromm grunted, his expression relaxed as he walked. ¡°Ain¡¯t much reason to be.¡± I frowned. ¡°Really? Because this place looks like it¡¯s just waiting for something to crawl out of a hole and eat us.¡± Bromm chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°Nah, lad. The creatures of the Hollow tend to stay away from the paths. Most folk who take the roads here know how to handle themselves. And most folk don¡¯t travel alone.¡± He shot me a side glance. ¡°So the roads remain safe, generally .¡± I raised a brow. ¡°Generally?¡± Bromm shrugged. ¡°Aye, there¡¯s always the odd fool who ignores the signs, wanders off, or thinks they¡¯re tougher than they are. But if ya¡¯ got good company, yer better off than most.¡± He tapped the musket strapped across his back, then gestured forward toward the real source of his confidence. Bob. The massive, tusked beast plodded along a few paces ahead, his snout twitching, ears flicking lazily. He seemed utterly unbothered by the shift in scenery. Bromm smirked. ¡°And my main weapon?¡± He gestured to Bob. ¡°You¡¯re lookin¡¯ at him.¡± I blinked. ¡°Bob?¡± Bob let out a grunt. Bromm nodded. ¡°Aye. He¡¯s got a better nose and ears than I do. Can sense trouble long before I could. If Bob¡¯s calm, I¡¯m calm.¡± Bob let out a deep, satisfied snort, like he was acknowledging the compliment. I eyed the massive boar, who seemed completely indifferent to our conversation, then glanced back at Bromm. ¡°So, Bob¡¯s basically your living, breathing threat detector?¡± ¡°That, and he¡¯ll gore anything that gets too close.¡± Bob grunted again, more forcefully this time. I squinted. ¡°¡­Did he just agree with you?¡± Bromm chuckled. ¡°Aye. He knows his worth.¡± I let out a breath, shaking my head. I wasn¡¯t sure what was more ridiculous¡ªthe fact that Bromm relied on a pig as an early warning system, or the fact that Bob seemed to know exactly what was being said about him. At this point, I decided to stop questioning it. We walked on, the silence stretching between us until another thought struck me. "So¡­ are there different types of magic?" Bromm let out a low "Heh," as if I¡¯d just asked if water was wet. ¡°Oh, aye.¡± He scratched his beard. ¡°Anything you can think of, there¡¯s probably some school or cult devoted to it. If it exists, some mage somewhere is tryin¡¯ to master it.¡± That was¡­ an interesting thought. "So there¡¯s no set system? No, like¡­ categories?" Bromm rolled a hand. "Depends who ya¡¯ ask. Scholars love to put magic in neat little boxes¡ªarcane, divine, druidic, blood magic, necromancy, all that." He waved a hand dismissively. "But magic ain¡¯t neat. It don¡¯t care what name you give it. In practice, it¡¯s messier. Magic is magic. It¡¯s just a matter of how you use it¡ªand what it costs you." That was way more open-ended than I expected. I glanced ahead, where the trees were starting to thin again, revealing a stone outcrop in the distance nestled among the mist and fungi-riddled terrain. I had a feeling we were getting close. And judging by Bob¡¯s flicking ears, so did he. As we drew nearer, I could make out that the structure was built from stone, but not just any stone. The surface shimmered faintly in the dim light, as if dusted with crushed opal, lending it an almost ethereal glow. It wasn¡¯t rough-hewn like the ruins I¡¯d seen in games or fantasy novels¡ªthis stone looked like it had been melded together, smooth yet imperfect, as if shaped by something other than chisels and mortar. The wooden trimmings along the edges were warped and gnarled, blending into the surrounding trees like they had grown into the building rather than being placed there. Thick, green moss clung to the walls, creeping into the cracks and folds of the structure, softening its edges. The roof was a different matter entirely. Very large, very bright, very vibrant. Like¡­mushrooms? It had to be. The entire roof was covered in them¡ªmassive, thick-capped things that glowed with a faint bioluminescence. They were huge. At least the size of a yoga ball, if not bigger, their stems anchored deep into the moss-covered roof, as if they had always been part of the design. Their colors varied¡ªsome a deep, electric blue, others a rich crimson, their undersides pulsing faintly like living lanterns in the dim light. The house, up close, looked more organic than stone or wood¡ªas if it had been grown rather than built, its walls shifting between natural elements like they couldn''t quite settle on what they were supposed to be. But that wasn¡¯t the oddest part. The oddest part, by far¡­ Was the mage who was inside. Given how strange this house was, my attention¡ªall of my attention¡ªwas on the noise coming from within the structure. The words I could make out weren¡¯t just an argument. No, this was something else. Something much worse. A verbal execution. "BETRAYER!! SCOUNDREL!! I SHOULD UNMAKE YOU WHERE YOU STAND!¡ªBUT NO, THAT WOULD BE TOO KIND! INSTEAD, I SHALL TURN YOUR BONES TO ASH, FEED THAT ASH TO A GOAT, AND THEN INSULT THE GOAT FOR EVEN ACCEPTING SUCH FILTH!" I leaned in closer¡ª Mistake. Snap- A branch cracked under my foot¡ªtoo loud, too sharp, too late. Silence. Then¡ªa rustle. A flicker of movement. Before I could react, he was there. Five feet from my face. As fast as a whip. Pressed hard against the window¡ªnose flattened against the glass. The mage stared¡ªnot just at me, but through me, like he was peeling back my existence layer by layer. His eye twitched. A slow, shuddering breath fogged the glass. The curtain behind him was still swaying. Proof that he had moved that fast. What¡­ the fuck? My soul physically tried to leave my body. Bromm, who had already been making his way up to the door when all of this occurred, was now knocking¡ªcompletely unfazed. Like this was normal. Like this was just another day in the Hollow. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. As his knuckles rapped against the wood, I saw the mage peel himself away from the window. Slowly. Deliberately. His movements were stiff, almost unnatural, like a puppet whose strings had just been yanked in a new direction. Then, without breaking stride, he drifted over to the door. The latch clicked. The door swung open. And then¡ª "Ohhh, Bromm¡­ it¡¯s you." He practically hissed the words, his tone dripping with condescension, with the same energy one might use upon discovering a roach in their favorite chalice. His nose wrinkled, his lips curled, and for a moment, it looked like he was debating whether or not he should smite Bromm where he stood. Then, through gritted teeth¡ª "What do you need?!" Bromm, utterly unfazed by the dramatic display, adjusted his musket strap. ¡°Oi, I figured you¡¯d have some answers for the lad here. You see¡­¡± He jerked a thumb in my direction. ¡°He was summoned.¡± A beat of silence. The mage¡¯s gaze snapped to me¡ªslowly, as if just now acknowledging my existence. His lip curled. His brow furrowed, his mouth twisting into something that sat firmly between disgust and mild inconvenience. ¡°¡­Was he?¡± He said it flatly, with all the enthusiasm of someone being told their least favorite cousin had come to stay for a month. I swallowed. I had a feeling this was going to be a long conversation. "Well, what are you waiting for?? Come in!" The mage threw his arms wide¡ªabsurdly wide¡ªlike he was unveiling a king before a grand court. Bromm, still as unbothered as ever, stepped inside like this was just another casual visit. I followed, far less sure of what I was walking into. And what I walked into was chaos. The air smelled of burning herbs, something sharp and metallic, and a faint ozone tang¡ªlike the aftermath of a lightning strike. Shelves sagged under the weight of bottles filled with bubbling green liquid, their corks barely containing whatever eldritch chemistry sloshed inside. Parchment¡ªso much parchment¡ªwas strewn across every available surface, covered in crude, frantic drawings. The drawings¡­ I stepped closer, narrowing my eyes. A scrawny, twisted little creature, barely a foot tall¡ªsmall enough to perch on a table, but drawn with a sense of wrongness that made it anything but harmless. The frantic, jagged strokes of ink exaggerated its wiry frame, its limbs almost skeletal, fingers ending in curved, claw-like tips. Deep, heavy shading made its body look shriveled, like something burned and left to wither. There wasn¡¯t just one. There were dozens of these sketches¡ªsome inked in deep, jagged strokes, others half-finished, as if abandoned mid-thought. Some were tucked into bookshelves, some nailed haphazardly to the wooden beams, others crumpled and discarded on the floor, as if their very existence offended him. I tore my gaze away as the mage shooed Bromm and me toward a pair of rickety wooden chairs near a firepit, where embers pulsed with eerie greenish light. He stalked past us, muttering to himself, then turned on his heel, fixing me with another sharp glare. "Right. Let¡¯s get one thing straight." He pointed a bony finger at me. "If I¡¯m going to be burdened with your miserable questions, you can at least do me the courtesy of remembering my name." He straightened, sweeping his arms out in a dramatic, almost painfully rehearsed motion, as if he were revealing himself on the stage of some grand theater. The firelight cast wild shadows across his face as he tilted his chin upward, voice swelling with importance. "I am Veldrin¡­" He let the name linger, like it should mean something¡ªlike it should carry weight. Then, without missing a beat, he flourished a hand toward the ceiling and continued, "Master of the Arcane! Keeper of Forbidden Wisdom! Archmage of¡ª" Bromm loudly cleared his throat. Veldrin¡¯s eye twitched. A long pause. Then, much flatter, as if physically pained by the lack of spectacle¡ª ¡°¡­Veldrin will do.¡± Veldrin sat down opposite me, the rickety chair beneath him groaning in protest. He was a middle aged man who looked like a once-great wizard who had completely lost touch with reality, living half in madness, half in magic. His thin, wiry frame was draped in robes¡ªif they could even be called that¡ªa chaotic patchwork of scorched fabric, ink stains, and something that looked suspiciously like melted wax. The edges were frayed and uneven, like they had been chewed on, burned, or both. His hair¡ªwild, unkempt, and streaked with premature gray¡ªfell past his shoulders in uneven tufts, as if he had hacked at it in frustration and then simply given up. His beard, though less unruly, was just as neglected, its wiry strands creeping down his chest in tangled disarray. He was tall¡ªunnervingly so¡ªwith limbs just slightly too long for comfort, giving him the awkward, looming presence of a marionette whose strings had been hastily reattached. His thin hands, lined with burns, ink smudges, and half-healed scratches, constantly twitched¡ªfingers tapping, curling, as if plucking at invisible threads of magic no one else could see. And then there were his eyes¡ªdeep-set, ringed with shadows from years of either too much or too little sleep. They burned with a feverish intensity, darting between Bromm and me like a man perpetually on the verge of uncovering a grand conspiracy¡ªor having a full-blown breakdown. He sat stiffly for a moment, then suddenly lurched forward too fast, elbows hitting the table with a loud thunk, his stare locking onto mine with disorienting intensity. "So¡­ you were summoned? Tell me¡­ everything." And that¡¯s exactly what I did. I told them everything¡ªhow I had been working in my home office, how I had probably downed one too many espressos, and how my heart just gave out. How my cat, Mr. Bittles, was probably eating my face as we spoke. I tried¡ªmiserably¡ªto explain what my job was and how computers worked, but after a few painful attempts, we all silently agreed to move on. Veldrin didn¡¯t interrupt. He just stared, his fingers resting on his chin, his expression distant and unreadable. Every so often, he would let out a low, thoughtful mutter¡ª "Hmmm." "Peculiar." "Yes¡­ yes, quite odd indeed¡­" I wasn¡¯t sure if he was actually processing what I was saying or just adding dramatic pauses for effect. But I kept going. Because for the first time since waking up in this world, I wasn¡¯t just lost in my own head¡ªI was saying my story out loud. And for once, I wasn¡¯t alone. Bromm and Veldrin were listening. Maybe now, I could finally start to make sense of how I got here¡­ and, hopefully, find some answers. So, I told them. About waking up in a world that wasn¡¯t my own, stranded in a forest with no explanation. About meeting Bromm, nearly getting gored by Bob, and stumbling into a village that felt pulled straight from the kind of fantasy I had only ever read about. But more than anything¡ªI told them about the scroll. The one I had found in my pack, bound in a twisted organic string that unraveled on its own the moment I touched it. The one that glowed with shifting blue-green light, as if the ink itself were alive. The one that spoke to me in words I could read, yet still felt foreign. Welcome, Summoned One. It had called me that. Summoned. Like I had been brought here for a reason. Like I had a purpose. Except¡­ I didn¡¯t. Because the next lines had said otherwise. Status: No Mark. No Chain. No Oath. I had no claim. No ties. No path laid out before me. Even the scroll itself had seemed confused by that fact, its words twisting in uncertainty before it finally concluded with a vague, almost dismissive statement¡ª "Purpose is not given. It is chosen." And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone. The moment I reached the end of the message, the parchment ignited in green fire¡ªsilent, smokeless, unnatural. It burned away in seconds, leaving no trace. No ash. No explanation. Only more questions. And as I sat there, retelling it all, watching Bromm¡¯s deepening frown and Veldrin¡¯s twitching gaze, I realized something. I wasn¡¯t just lost. I was completely untethered. No past. No mark. No place in this world. And that scared me more than anything. For a long moment, the weight of my words settled between us, thick and suffocating. Then¡ª A pebble whizzed through the air and smacked Veldrin square in the forehead "BAH!" He yelped, jerking upright like he¡¯d been struck by divine judgment. His chair scraped loudly against the floor as he shot to his feet, one hand clutching his forehead, the other jabbing wildly behind me. "YOU BRING SHAME UPON YOUR FOUL LINEAGE!" Wait. What? I barely had time to process his words before I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned¡ªand froze. There, perched on the cupboard like a smug little goblin king, was the creature from the sketches. Small. Wiry. Grinning ear to ear with sharp, jagged teeth. Its ember-like eyes glowed with pure, unfiltered mischief. A long, whip-thin tail flicked behind it, curling idly as it bounced another pebble in its clawed fingers. A demon. A trickster. An imp. I must have said it aloud, because before I could even react, Veldrin¡¯s hands clamped onto my shoulders like a vice. His wild, half-mad eyes bored into mine, pupils blown wide with frantic, desperate intensity. "YOU CAN SEE HIM TOO?!?!" he shouted, his voice cracking between relief, rage, and sheer, unhinged disbelief. Then, as if the realization had physically struck him, his grip on my shoulders tightened, and his entire body seized with triumph. "IT WASN¡¯T THE HOLLOW MADNESS!!!" he bellowed, practically shaking me. For half a second, I thought he might actually start crying. Or laughing. Or both. Instead, he spun on his heel, thrusting both arms skyward as if declaring his victory over reality itself. "I AM VINDICATED!" Behind him, the imp wiped a tear from its eye and let out a gleeful, cackling snort. Chapter 6: Pebbles and Revelations Chapter 6: Pebbles and Revelations ¡°I ugh¡­ I can see him!" I said, not sure exactly what was going on or if I even believed what I was seeing. Bromm stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his expression shifting between wary and outright baffled. His eyes flicked between me and the imp perched smugly on the cupboard, but he wasn¡¯t reacting the way I expected. No alarm, no sudden reach for his musket. Just confusion. He doesn¡¯t seem the type to just let this slide. "Hey, Bromm," I said slowly, trying to gauge his reaction. "Do you not¡­ see this creature here?" Bromm¡¯s thick brows pulled together. "Ugh¡­ no, lad. I don''t know what the hells ya¡¯ guys are on about." His frown deepened, and he gave me a long, scrutinizing look. "I thought maybe yer¡¯d gotten some Madcap dust in ya¡¯. That¡­or ya¡¯ finally cracked from seein¡¯ Bob glare at ya¡¯ for too long." I blinked, glancing between him and the imp, who was now grinning like this was the best entertainment it had seen in years. "You really don¡¯t see him?" I asked again, pointing. Bromm exhaled sharply through his nose. "Ain¡¯t gonna change my answer, lad. Unless yer pointin¡¯ at a particularly smug moth, I ain''t seein'' a damn thing." Veldrin let out a wild, triumphant cackle, throwing his arms wide like a deranged prophet who had just been proven right by the gods themselves. "AHA! YOU SEE?! I AM NOT MAD!" "Debatable," Bromm muttered. Veldrin ignored him completely. His manic glee only intensified as he spun to face the imp, jabbing a bony finger in its direction. "YOU EXIST. I KNEW IT!" The imp, still perched atop the cupboard, gave an exaggerated yawn before flicking another pebble straight at Veldrin¡¯s forehead. Plink¡ª Veldrin flinched, rubbing the spot with an irritated scowl. "INSOLENT CRETIN!" He whirled back to me. "And you! YOU can see him! Which means¡ª" He gasped, eyes widening in realization. "¡ªyou are ALSO CURSED!" I did not like how he said that. "Hold on, hold on," I said, raising both hands. "Cursed? What? No. That¡¯s not¡ª" Veldrin clutched his head, pacing like a madman and cutting me off. "OHHH, THE SUFFERING, THE HORROR! DOOMED TO WITNESS THIS ABOMINATION, TRAPPED BETWEEN WORLDS¡ª" "Or," I interrupted, "maybe I just have really good eyesight?" Veldrin stopped mid-spiral and glared at me like I had personally insulted his entire ancestry. "DON¡¯T BE RIDICULOUS! THIS IS A MATTER OF THE ARCANE! OF SPIRITUAL IMPOSITIONS! OF¡ª" "Alright, enough of that," Bromm cut in, rubbing his temple. "Can someone, ANYONE, explain to me why it looks like ya¡¯ two are arguin¡¯ with the wall?" I hesitated, then turned back to Veldrin. "So¡­ just to be clear, you¡¯re saying that this thing," I gestured to the imp, who was now plucking something from its sharp little teeth with a claw "isn¡¯t actually¡­ here?" Veldrin made a strangled noise in his throat. "OF COURSE IT''S HERE, YOU SIMPLETON. It exists¡ªjust not on the same physical plane as us!" "Great, so I¡¯m hallucinating," I muttered. "You are NOT hallucinating!" Veldrin snapped. "You are perceiving beyond the veil! The wretched thing is TRAPPED BETWEEN WORLDS!" "¡­Right." Veldrin inhaled sharply through his nose, clearly straining to keep from throttling me. "Let me make this simple for your underdeveloped mortal brain." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "The imp is¡­ displaced. It lingers in a state of phase shift. Stuck. It cannot interact with this plane. It cannot be touched." His eyes flashed. "But you can see it." I slowly processed that. Then frowned. "Wait. But it keeps throwing rocks at your head?" "YES," Veldrin hissed. "AND I WOULD VERY MUCH LIKE TO KNOW HOW." Another pebble hit him. Veldrin lunged at the imp, swinging wildly. His fingers passed clean through it like smoke. The imp, entirely unfazed, let out a delighted "Heheheheheh!" and lobbed another pebble. Veldrin snarled, snatching a candle from a nearby shelf and hurling it at the imp with the force of a man who had completely abandoned rational thought. The candle passed right through the imp. It did not, however, pass through the wall. Instead, it hit a bookshelf¡­a very overloaded bookshelf. Which immediately tipped forward with an ominous creak. Veldrin¡¯s face went pale. "Oh¡ª" The entire shelf crashed down, sending books, scrolls, and an alarming number of glass bottles shattering across the floor. A plume of multicolored smoke hissed upward, releasing what smelled disturbingly like burnt cinnamon and sulfur. A long silence followed. Veldrin, frozen mid-flail, slowly turned to glare at the imp. The imp, lying lazily on its stomach, propped its head up on both hands and smirked. Then¡ª "Hey." The voice slithered into my ears like oil over water¡ªhigh-pitched, scratchy, and layered with something unnatural, like a goblin trying to impersonate a noble while gargling gravel. I stiffened, then turned around. "Huh?" I said stupidly. The imp¡¯s grin widened, showing rows of needle-like teeth. Its ember-like eyes flickered with something unreadable. "Soooo¡­ you can hear me?" it drawled, its voice half-amused, half-calculating. "That is¡­ pec-u-li-ar." It drew the word out, tasting it like a particularly juicy piece of gossip. It tilted its head, tapping its claws idly against the wooden cupboard. "Very¡­ interesting." "You know¡­" The imp drawled, its ember-like eyes flickering with mischief. "It¡¯s pretty obvious what happened to you, right?" I frowned. "Obvious?" From behind me, Veldrin emerged from the wreckage of fallen books and shattered jars, his robes dusted with colorful powders and something that smelled dangerously close to vinegar and rotten eggs. He grumbled under his breath, muttering curses about imps, gravity, and ¡°damn unstable phase distortions.¡± Then, he stopped. His head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. "Are you¡­" His fingers twitched, pointing toward the imp. "Talking to him?" I hesitated. "...Yes?" Veldrin inhaled sharply¡ªthen lunged forward, grabbing me by the shoulders with alarming force. His fingers dug in like a man holding onto the last thread of sanity. "YOU CAN HEAR IT, TOO?!" he practically shrieked, his voice an octave higher than I thought physically possible. The imp giggled, kicking its legs playfully in the air. "Ohhh, wizard-boy is gonna lose his mind over this one." It rolled onto its back, claws tapping against its stomach. "I told you I was real, Veldrin. But nooo, ¡®Hollow Madness¡¯ this, ¡®delusions¡¯ that." It waggled a claw. "Tsk tsk. Should¡¯ve trusted your own brilliance, old man." Veldrin looked like he was either about to pass out or explode. "I¡ªYOU¡ªNO!" He shook me slightly, as if trying to rattle my brain into a more acceptable reality. "I CAN¡¯T HEAR IT" I blinked. "Wait¡­what?" Veldrin''s grip tightened. "I have been staring at that wretched little thing for YEARS, watching it mock me, throw things at me, ruin my work, and it has NEVER spoken a single word to me!" His pupils were blown wide, his face caught between manic triumph and absolute horror. "You¡­" he jabbed a frantic finger at me. "...can hear it?!" "Ohh, this is delicious. The wizard is spiraling again, this is my favorite part of the day,¡± the imp said. I pulled back from Veldrin¡¯s grip, rubbing my shoulders. ¡°Hold on, can we back up? You¡ª¡± I said, pointing at the imp, ¡°what do you mean by ¡®obvious¡¯? Do you know why I¡¯m here?¡± Veldrin¡¯s wild eyes darted between me and the imp, his voice dropping to a frantic whisper. ¡°Ask it! Ask it why it¡¯s here, why it¡¯s been wrecking my life! You¡¯ve got to help me get answers from that little monster!¡± Before I could respond¡ªCRACK! A sharp, static pop split the air, like a thread snapping in reality itself. Veldrin and I both looked over. The imp was gone. ¡°What the hell? Did he just disappear for you too?¡± I asked. Veldrin let out a deeply relieved sigh. ¡°He comes and goes. He never stays around long. His phase shift¡­ it¡¯s unpredictable.¡± He walked over to the fallen bookshelf, recovering it from the earlier disaster. His hands pressed flat against the empty wooden surface, fingers curling slightly. His voice dropped, quieter now, tinged with something I hadn¡¯t heard before, something almost tired. ¡°I was¡­ once a man of nobility, honor. Renowned for my magical prowess.¡± He exhaled, shoulders tensing. ¡°Then, ran out of town like a madman. Forced to live here, in the Hollow.¡± His fingers tightened. ¡°And after enough years, I started to ¡­believe it, that maybe I did have the Hollow Madness. Maybe the problem was me.¡± He trailed off, his eyes distant. Then, slowly, he turned to face me. ¡°¡­Then you come along.¡± His fingers twitched against the wood. His pupils, already too wide, somehow widened more. ¡°Do you know what that means?¡± he whispered. ¡°It means the Hollow didn¡¯t take my mind¡­ It sharpened it.¡± Bromm loudly cleared his throat, stepping forward like a man cutting off a conversation that should never have started. ¡°So, Veldrin, do ya¡¯ think ya¡¯ have answers for him?¡± Veldrin¡¯s head snapped toward Bromm, like he had completely forgotten we weren¡¯t alone. His wild stare flicked between us, then softened into something vaguely amused. ¡°Of course I do,¡± he said. He turned away, fingers drumming absently against the wood. ¡°When we study demonology, we learn the rules. The laws of summoning. A tether is created¡ªa link between worlds. A snagged soul, plucked from its plane of existence. Normally, the right soul is pulled. Normally.¡± His gaze flicked back to me, eyes gleaming. ¡°But there are many worlds, layered, shifting, overlapping. A summoning can misfire, catch something it wasn¡¯t meant to.¡± He gestured vaguely toward me. ¡°This young man? He died, and at that precise moment, he was caught in some summoning crossfire. A soul without a destination, yanked from its path.¡± Veldrin¡¯s voice dipped lower, almost reverent. ¡°That¡¯s why he can¡¯t go back. The tether is severed. His spirit is no longer recognized by his world¡ªcut off. Which means¡­¡± his lips curled into something between fascination and pity ¡°¡­a lost soul in a world that never asked for him. Fascinating, isn¡¯t it?¡± I felt numb. ¡°This is happening way too fast!¡± I snapped. ¡°I don¡¯t understand how you guys are just¡­so used to this! My world was nothing like this!¡± I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair as I tried not to spiral. ¡°How am I supposed to just start over?¡± Bromm shifts his weight. Calmly, he said, ¡°Ya¡¯ need coin, a place to stay. Means ya¡¯ need work. I could use a second set of hands. Maybe we start small. See if ya¡¯ can swing that axe without choppin¡¯ yer foot off.¡± I hesitate. ¡°You¡¯d actually help me?¡± Bromm lets out a slow exhale, rubbing his beard. ¡°Ain¡¯t about helpin¡¯, lad. It¡¯s about takin¡¯ the next step. Ya¡¯ want to sit around bellyachin¡¯, or ya¡¯ want to stand up an¡¯ get movin¡¯?¡± Veldrin lets out a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes. ¡°Oh, fine. I suppose I should tag along.¡± Bromm raises a brow. ¡°And why in the hells would ye¡¯ come?¡± Veldrin scoffs. ¡°Come now, Bromm, why do you think?¡± He gestures at me. ¡°This young man can see and speak to a demon that has plagued me for years. He may be the only one who can help me be rid of it once and for all. No more torment. No more madness. Things can finally go back to how they were. Of course I¡¯m coming. I need this man alive.¡± He straightens, folding his arms. ¡°Now¡­ what is our next step?¡± Bromm looks at Veldrin for a long moment, then turns to me. ¡°Well, lad,¡± he said, smirking. ¡°If yer gonna live in this world, ye¡¯d best start learning how it works. And to do that¡­ ya¡¯ need gold.¡± He adjusts the strap of his musket. ¡°We head back to town. That bounty board¡¯s waitin¡¯.¡± I glance at Veldrin. ¡°You ready for that?¡± He waves a hand dismissively. ¡°Oh, please. Unlike you, I don¡¯t need time to adjust to reality.¡± With that, he turns on his heel and sweeps toward the door only to stop abruptly. He pivots, lowering his voice. ¡°One moment. I need to say goodbye to the missus.¡± Then, with all the reverence of a noble parting ways with his beloved, he leans down, whispers something inaudible, and presses a quick kiss to a battered old teapot sitting on the shelf. Bromm and I just stared. Veldrin straightens, dusting off his robes like nothing happened. ¡°Right then, off we go!¡± Bromm shook his head, muttering, ¡°Hells help me,¡± before pushing open the door. We step out into the thick, humid air, the woods stretching ahead. Bob grunted as we approached, shifting his weight with a bored snort. Bromm pat his side. ¡°C¡¯mon, Bob. We¡¯ve got work.¡± And just like that, we set off down the winding path¡ªa dwarf, a mad mage, a man in a world not his own. And Bob. The woods thickened around us, the undergrowth growing dense. Chittering noises echoed from the canopy above, rustling through the leaves. I glanced up just in time to see small, wiry creatures darting between the branches¡ªTuffTails. They moved in skittish bursts, long bushy tails twitching as they scurried along the treetops. One paused, peering down at us with beady black eyes. Then, with a chirping screech, it hurled something. A fat, oversized acorn whizzed through the air, spinning toward us. ¡ªCRACK! A searing green bolt shot past my head, leaving a streak of heat in its wake. I barely had time to register it before the Tufftail¡¯s perch exploded into splinters, the branch disintegrating into ash. I whirled, as did Bromm. Veldrin stood there, smirking way too proudly. His fingers still crackled with residual energy, his expression downright smug. Bob, however, was starstruck. His little beady eyes shone with admiration, his tail gave an approving twitch, and, most alarming of all, he let out a deep, pleased grunt. Then, without hesitation, he walked straight up to Veldrin and nuzzled his leg. Bromm¡¯s face went pale. ¡°Oh, no.¡± Veldrin, now looking incredibly pleased with himself, scratched Bob behind the ears. ¡°Ah, see? A creature of refined taste.¡± Bromm just slowly exhaled. Chapter 7: No Choice but Forward Chapter 7: No Choice but Forward And like that, our journey began. We followed the trail south, heading back toward Mosswood Hollow. Bromm walked about fifteen paces ahead, his sharp eyes scanning the ground. Every so often, he would kneel, flipping over logs, peering beneath rocks¡ªsearching for something. Then¡ª ¡°Arthur, come look,¡± he called, motioning me over with a flick of his hand. As I approached, I saw that he had turned over a log and was carefully shading a small patch of growth with his palm. Delicate, faintly luminescent fungi clung to the damp wood, their caps shimmering in the dim light. ¡°This,¡± Bromm said, voice laced with approval, ¡°is Glimmergill Bloom.¡± He reached for his knife, expertly cutting a section free. ¡°Crush it fine, and it releases a potent healing compound. This stuff can save your life out here in the Hollow.¡± He held it up between his fingers, turning it slightly. Even in the daylight, the caps pulsed with a soft, otherworldly glow. ¡°It blooms under moonlight,¡± he added, tucking the sample into my palm. ¡°That¡¯s when it¡¯s at its strongest. The glow makes it easier to find at night.¡± He straightened, turning the log back over with care before handing me the small bundle of fungi. ¡°Here you go, lad. Put it in yer pack.¡± I took it, carefully tucking it away. ¡°Lesson one of surviving the Hollow: pay attention to what thrives in the dark.¡± I don¡¯t know why¡ªwhy now, why this very second¡ªbut it hit me like I¡¯d just been T-boned by a Tractor Trailer. This is happening. This is my life. I looked up, my thoughts spinning. ¡°So what now? I have to grind out Alchemy before I even get a damn professional trainer?¡± Bromm glanced up, brows furrowing. "Well... aye. Kind of? Ya¡¯ already know about potion brewin¡¯?" I just stared at him. Of course. Of course, that was his answer. ¡°No, you don¡¯t get it. I¡ª¡± I exhaled sharply, trying to grasp the words. ¡°Yes, I know what potion brewing is, but in my world, it¡¯s... make-believe. Fantasy. It¡¯s just¡­video games.¡± ¡°Video games?¡± Bromm repeated, his frown deepening. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I groaned. ¡°It¡¯s... not something that¡¯s really gonna come in handy.¡± I dragged a hand down my face. ¡°And besides, I wasn¡¯t even good at it in a video game. And that wasn¡¯t life or death..¡± The words started spilling out before I could stop them. ¡°I worked as an IT support tech. I was just a lazy 25-year-old who played video games now and again and sometimes got enough motivation from YouTube videos to go to the gym. I am just... an average guy. This is¡ª¡± ¡ªSLAP. The sound cracked through the air like a damn gunshot. Pain bloomed across my cheek. My head snapped sideways. I blinked. Veldrin stood before me, hand still raised, eyes gleaming with unhinged intensity. ¡°What the hell?!¡± I sputtered, stumbling back. ¡°Enough of that,¡± he declared, shaking out his wrist like slapping me had been some kind of noble duty. ¡°I¡­what?¡± ¡°You were summoned across realms. You can see between worlds. You have defied fate, reality, and quite frankly, my patience. You are not average, and I will not stand here and listen to you whimper about it like some milk-drunk babe.¡± He sniffed, folding his arms. ¡°Now, are you going to keep sulking, or are you going to learn how to survive?¡± I gawked at him. Bromm let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯d say ya¡¯ deserved that one.¡± Bob? Bob just snorted. Hard. Like he agreed. Instead of rushing the absolute insane mage for slapping me, it¡­it made me laugh. At first, it was just a chuckle, half-disbelieving. Then it grew until I was grinning like an idiot, shoulders shaking, full-on laughing. I laughed for a long while. Because¡­he was right, wasn¡¯t he? What else could I do? I was here, this was happening. No amount of denial or logic was going to change that. That slap? It wasn¡¯t just a slap¡ªit was a wake-up call. A blunt, painful, ridiculous slap of reality. This was my reality now. No more respawns. No pause menu. No quitting out and reloading an old save. And I knew it wasn¡¯t an illusion. Because that slap hurt like hell. But you know what? My last life? Regret after regret. I never even had the chance to set things right. Never had the time, the drive, or maybe just the guts to change anything. But now? Now, here it was. My wake-up call. A fresh slate. A second chance. And I wasn¡¯t about to waste it. As we walked, I found myself asking more about the world I¡¯d been thrust into. It was called Selion, and the continent I was standing on? Drakmora. Elunara had mentioned it offhand, but hearing it again from Bromm and Veldrin made it feel more real, more¡­ grounded. To the south of Mosswood Hollow lay Lunareth, a kingdom that, from what I gathered, was both a sprawling territory and the name of the massive city at its heart. Lunareth wasn¡¯t compact¡ªit grew naturally, with buildings and walkways integrated seamlessly into the trees, as though the city had simply sprouted in place. The people lived healthy, strong lives, taking immense pride in their work, no matter how large or small. Humans, Gnomes, Dwarves, Elves, and even Tauren called Lunareth home living in harmony and purpose. The Ashen Peaks lay west of the Hollow, situated directly in the center of the continent, making it a constant point of reference. The peaks were known for being a Perpetual Storm Zone where continuous dark clouds roamed overhead, with lightning storms that never fully ceased and acidic rain that scarred the rocks below. Few dared to traverse them, for the storms never dissipated and the place felt as dangerous as it was desolate. Yet, despite the danger, the Ashen Peaks were seen as a geographic landmark, marking the center of Drakmora and helping people orient themselves within the vast continent. I wanted to keep going. I had so many questions, so-so many, but before I could ask anything further, a low, unmistakable rumbling growl started to fill the quiet air. It was Bob. What happened next occurred in the span of three seconds. Bromm had already unshouldered his musket, in a half-ready position. Veldrin stood firm, eyes locked ahead, his palm up, fingers extended. A shimmer flickered at the edge of his fingertips, distorting the air like heat rising from stone. Bob had dropped into a low ready stance, facing forward. I heard whispers all around me, too faint to make out but they crawled under my skin, sending a chill down my spine. Then, I saw them, and my heart dropped¡ªshit. Out of the brush came skeletal figures, half plant and half undead. Grotesque nightmares made flesh. They had no legs, just writhing vines and twisted bones, crawling with an unsettling speed. Their movements were erratic, twitching and staggering as they closed in on us. Bromm made the first move. He shouted, ¡°Wither Ghouls!¡± and raised his musket, firing. The first ghoul was torn apart, twitching but immobile. Another lunged at Bromm as he reloaded, but Bob charged in, goring the creature and flinging it aside. Whatever Veldrin had been preparing finally finished, the air around his hand distorted, rippling in waves. With a flick of his wrist, a sphere of swirling flames shot forward, erupting into a blistering wave of fire that engulfed the ghouls in fiery tendrils. Only one remained. It reached Bromm, raising an elongated claw to swipe. Bromm didn''t flinch. He swung his axe in a smooth arc, cutting through the ghoul¡¯s arm before following through with a powerful strike to its skull. The creature staggered back, twitching violently before collapsing, its lifeless form finally still. No more than three seconds. That¡¯s all it took for Veldrin, Bromm, and Bob to dispatch those horrors. And me? I was paralyzed, just standing there, frozen in place. I was in way over my head, and that realization hit me like a ton of bricks. As Bromm retrieved his axe from the skull of the Wither Ghoul, he gave a grunt of effort, a wet splat, and it came loose. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. "You¡¯ll get used to them," he said casually, sheathing his axe. "They''re pretty common out here in the Hollow." Pretty common... Those words echoed in my mind. What was uncommon? I was too afraid to ask. I hadn¡¯t even fully processed what they were before Bromm had already taken the first one down. How could something like that be so common that the people here didn¡¯t even flinch? I looked at Veldrin ¡°Hey Veldrin, that was magic wasn¡¯t it? What were you doing with your hands before your spell?¡± Veldrin turned to me, an almost pitying look on his face. "That was mana." He gestured vaguely, as if that alone should explain everything. "Wielding it means bending reality to your will, controlling the elements, shaping them like clay. But clay is simple. Mana? Mana is a wild, living thing. You don¡¯t just throw it around like a barbarian with an axe. No, no, no. It¡¯s an art." He flexed his fingers, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. "Your mind is the brush, and every spell is a masterpiece waiting to be painted. The stronger the spell, the finer the strokes, the steadier the hand. And if you smudge the lines? If you rush? If someone so much as sneezes while you¡¯re concentrating¡ª" He made a sudden poof motion with his fingers. "Gone. Useless. Or worse, catastrophic. Years of practice to master even the simplest spell, and under pressure? Triple that. Swordplay? Hah! Try shaping a storm with your bare hands and see how long you last before it rips you apart." Actual magic¡ªnow I had some interest in that. How could you not, coming from a world where there is none? But it seemed out of reach with how Veldrin described it. Maybe I would be better off focusing on something that doesn¡¯t require so much patience. However, it would seem like a waste to not at least try. ¡°Hey, Veldrin,¡± I said, leaning back against a tree. ¡°Think you could teach me? Or at least show me how to control mana?¡± Veldrin exhaled¡ªa long, theatrical hiss and leaned against a nearby trunk, idly twirling his dagger like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. ¡°Teach you?¡± he said, voice low and dripping with disdain. ¡°Control mana? Lad, it¡¯s not some tavern trick¡ªlike skinning a rabbit or sweet-talking a barmaid.¡± He tilted his head, eyes narrowing like a knife¡¯s edge. ¡°Magic¡¯s a gift. Selion chooses who gets it¡ªwhispers to a lucky few and lets them shape it, bend it. Not everyone¡¯s born with the spark, and you?¡± He flicked the dagger, pointing it briefly at me before spinning it again. ¡°You¡¯re not even from here. Selion doesn¡¯t know you. Doesn¡¯t care. No spark for off-world strays, I¡¯m afraid.¡± I frowned. ¡°So... only some people can use it?¡± ¡°Exactly.¡± He nodded, lips curling into something between pride and pity. ¡°It¡¯s a rare spark¡ªetched into the soul, maybe the blood, maybe the bones. Me? I was chosen. You?¡± He let the word dangle before flashing a smirk. ¡°Well, you¡¯re not even from this realm. Selion doesn¡¯t tend to hand out gifts to strangers.¡± He twirled his dagger lazily. ¡°Stick to that axe for now¡­It won¡¯t judge you.¡± I didn¡¯t have a comeback for that. It was vague as hell, but in a weird way, it made sense. Still, it stung¡ªlike being told I hadn¡¯t made the team. I shifted, glancing over to Bromm for a much-needed distraction. He was crouched by a ghoul, casually wiping his axe on a rag that had definitely seen better days. ¡°Hey, Bromm,¡± I asked, nudging a corpse with the toe of my boot. ¡°Are these things worth anything?¡± He looked up and smirked. ¡°Aye. The teeth. Alchemists grind ¡¯em for potions¡ªsay they¡¯ve got a bit of a kick. Some claim they¡¯re magic, others just like jackin¡¯ up the price for ¡®ghoul essence.¡¯ Either way, they fetch decent silver.¡± He gripped the ghoul¡¯s jaw and cracked it open with a wet pop. ¡°Go on, lad. Pull ¡¯em out.¡± As I got closer to the ghoul Bromm was holding, the details became even more unsettling. The thing was a twisted fusion of bone and writhing plant matter, its skeletal frame barely held together by thick, sinewy vines that pulsed faintly¡ªlike they were still clinging to some grotesque echo of life. Hollow eye sockets stared up at nothing. Its jaw hung slack in a frozen snarl. Patches of rotting flesh clung to its skull like dried parchment. Its lower body was a tangled mass of roots, coiled and tense, even in death. The thorny tendrils twitched as if whatever cursed magic had animated it hadn¡¯t fully let go. The smell was worse than it looked¡ªdamp earth, rot, and something sharp and sour that made my stomach roll. I exhaled sharply and tightened my grip on my axe. With a quick strike to the exposed gums, brittle teeth cracked free. Some came loose in one pull, others splintered apart in my fingers. I wiped the filth on my pants and dropped the intact teeth into my pack. They landed with a faint, hollow rattle.It made my skin crawl, but if Bromm said they were valuable, I wasn¡¯t going to argue. ¡°Disgusting,¡± I muttered, shaking off the unease. Then I looked up. ¡°Hey, Bromm. Why are you helping me so much? I kind of get why Veldrin¡¯s involved, but you¡­ you don¡¯t owe me anything. Is there some angle I¡¯m missing?¡± Bromm didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°No angle, lad. In the Hollow, no one lasts long on their own. Ya¡¯ help others, they help ye¡¯ back. That¡¯s how it works here.¡± He rested a hand on Bob¡¯s bristled back. ¡°When I was younger, Robert, Bob, saved my hide more times than I can count. A man who doesn¡¯t repay that kind of kindness is no better than the monsters out here.¡± I didn¡¯t know what to say. Where I came from, it wasn¡¯t like that. Back home, people helped each other if there was something to gain, like recognition, money, or maybe just validation. Kindness always came with strings attached. The idea of helping someone just because¡­ it felt¡­ foreign. Almost na?ve. But Bromm didn¡¯t seem na?ve. He was solid. Grounded. The kind of guy who did things because they were right¡ªnot because he expected anything in return. And I was damn thankful for that. As we moved closer to the Hollow, the forest began to change. The deep purple leaves I¡¯d seen when I first arrived began to reappear, blending into dark greens and browns. The oppressive weight of the woods lightened. The undergrowth thinned. Clearings opened around us, thick with vibrant grass that swayed in the breeze like it was alive. White vine-like flowers bloomed in quiet patches, their petals slowly unfurling in the shifting light. The whole forest seemed to hum¡ªnot with noise, but with presence. Old. Primal. Like it was watching. Bromm stepped off the trail, motioning me after him. ¡°Ain¡¯t just about coin, lad. It¡¯s about what¡¯s useful. Right now, that¡¯s food.¡± ¡°And we¡¯re finding that¡­ where, exactly?¡± I asked, raising a brow at the untouched wilds around us. ¡°Right under yer nose.¡± He knelt, parting the brush. ¡°Wild grains grow all over if ya¡¯ know where to look. Nuts, too. And if we¡¯re lucky, maybe even a beehive.¡± I squinted at him. ¡°You sniff out beehives now?¡± He shrugged. ¡°Figure of speech. But Bob¡¯s got a nose for ¡¯em.¡± He stood and wiped his hands. ¡°If we gather the right ingredients¡ªherbs, grains, maybe honey¡ªwe can trade with Elunara. She¡¯s got a room to spare, and extra meals in exchange for what we bring in. Give ya¡¯ a way to get on yer feet. And,¡± he added with a glance at Veldrin, ¡°I imagine yer¡¯d prefer a room of yer own too, eh?¡± Veldrin groaned, dragging a hand down his face like the idea physically pained him. ¡°A room at The Frog Leg¡­ must I sink to such pedestrian accommodations? Elunara¡¯s inn is barely a step above a livestock shed.¡± Bromm grinned. ¡°Sounds like we¡¯re all in agreement then.¡± Hours passed. My pack became filled with herbs, nuts, and grains. We were nearly ready to head back when Bob gave a sharp squeal and trotted to the base of a tree. We followed his gaze upward. A massive honeycomb clung to a thick branch high above¡ªgolden honey dripping down in slow, tempting globs. Bromm squinted and grinned. ¡°Now that¡¯s a haul. Normally, we just knock it down and run like hell.¡± I shot him a flat look. ¡°That sounds¡­ incredibly stupid.¡± Above us, a swarm of bees formed a humming cloud. They moved in rhythm, their black-and-yellow bodies buzzing around the hive in a slow, hypnotic spiral. Some were bigger than any bee I¡¯d ever seen, their abdomens gleaming in the light. They hovered near the entrance, twitching and ready to strike. ¡°Aye, it usually is,¡± Bromm said, pulling out a bundle of dried leaves and bark. ¡°But let¡¯s do it the smart way, eh?¡± He struck flint to the bundle, sending up a thin column of smoke. ¡°Smoke calms ¡¯em. Makes ¡¯em think the hive¡¯s on fire¡ªputs them into a haze.¡± As the smoke rose, the buzzing softened. The bees grew sluggish. Bromm nodded in satisfaction. ¡°Now, while they¡¯re dozin¡¯, we work.¡± He produced a rope with a rock tied to one end, swung it overhead, and let it fly. The rock caught a branch near the hive. He pulled the rope taut and lowered the branch. ¡°That¡¯s the trick,¡± he said. ¡°Now we¡¯ve got the right angle. Make it clean.¡± He handed me a knife. I took a steadying breath and cut the hive free. Honey oozed out immediately, but Bromm had already pulled out a clay jar. He caught the dripping nectar with practiced ease, sealing the lid tight with a woven cloth. ¡°Keep it sealed, or it¡¯ll sour quick.¡± With our packs full, we started back toward the Hollow. The path felt longer this time, more tense. There were no attacks, but I felt the weight of the woods pressing in. ¡°Didn¡¯t you say the roads are usually quiet?¡± I asked. ¡°Why were we attacked earlier? We¡¯ve got four of us now.¡± Bromm¡¯s eyes swept the trees. ¡°Aye. Thing is¡ªthe Hollow gets bolder when the sun starts to dip. Less light? Means more of the bad comes crawling out.¡± Veldrin cut in, voice sharp. ¡°The mana here¡­ it¡¯s dark. Chaotic. It twists things. Warps them. Those ghouls you saw? They weren¡¯t born like that. They were men once. Elves. Maybe even children. Dead long ago, but still part of this place. And the Hollow doesn¡¯t let go easily.¡± I swallowed. ¡°So¡­ should we be worried?¡± ¡°Worried?¡± Veldrin scoffed. ¡°Worry is for peasants. And pigs.¡± He gestured to Bob, who grunted in response. ¡°This mana, this chaos, it¡¯s just another variable. A snarl of threads. But I? I am the hand that weaves.¡± We were close now. The scent of Ferowen flowers thickened in the air, mixing with the distant thump of drums and the haunting notes of flute. Light from the village torches flickered through the trees, casting long shadows on the path. The golden-purple leaves shimmered as the last rays of sun bled through them like tongues of fire in the twilight. And just beyond the next bend, Mosswood Hollow came into view. Chapter 8: The Calm Before the Hunt Chapter 8 The Calm Before the Hunt As we walked along the main road, Veldrin scoffed, practically spitting his words. ¡°Ugh. I suppose I''ll see if that backwater shop has acquired any worthwhile arcane materials.¡± He shook his head dismissively. ¡°Doubtful. I¡¯ll catch up with you both later at the Frog Leg.¡± Without waiting for a reply, he spun on his heel and stalked off, robes billowing dramatically behind him. Bromm raised an eyebrow as he watched Veldrin go. Then he turned to me, stroking his beard thoughtfully. ¡°Well, how ¡®bout we check the bounty board? You¡¯re gonna need practice with that axe and shield if you plan on standing on your own two feet around here.¡± Bob trotted alongside us, his heavy steps rhythmic against the packed dirt road. When we reached the bounty board, I leaned forward, scanning the notices pinned to the weathered wood. Several postings detailed recent gnoll raids on local farmsteads. Troubling, I thought¡ªand likely dangerous. Bromm narrowed his eyes at the board. ¡°Tomorrow morning, we¡¯ll head out early and clear some of these gnoll bounties. It¡¯ll be good trainin¡¯ for ya.¡± I swallowed hard. Gnoll hunting. A nervous thrill twisted through my chest. It wasn¡¯t just the danger¡ªI¡¯d known fighting was inevitable¡ªbut the reality of tracking down, confronting, and killing something flooded me with anxious energy. This wasn¡¯t stumbling blindly through an unfamiliar world, barely surviving. Now I would deliberately take up arms and face danger head-on. A firm clap on my shoulder jolted me from my thoughts. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, lad,¡± Bromm chuckled. ¡°Gnolls ain¡¯t too bright. Nasty, aye, but predictable. We¡¯ll take it slow tomorrow.¡± I exhaled and forced a grin. ¡°Yeah. Just¡­ hunting gnolls. No big deal.¡± Bromm laughed again. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit.¡± We turned from the bounty board and headed toward the Frog Leg Inn. With my nerves steadied, I finally took notice of Mosswood Hollow¡¯s layout. Beyond the village center, small homesteads and farmhouses dotted the outskirts. Gardens flourished alongside quaint cottages, some meticulously neat, others wild and overgrown. Even in this quiet village, people carved out their own spaces, each living off the land in their own way. When we reached the inn, lanterns flickered warmly from the windows, their golden glow illuminating the weathered sign above the door. Inside, muffled voices and clinking mugs hinted that the village¡¯s residents had already settled in for the night. Elunara was easy to spot. Bromm approached her, exchanging murmured words and animated gestures. After a brief negotiation, accompanied by Elunara¡¯s thoughtful nodding, a deal was struck: lodging for a few days in exchange for surplus bread made from our foraged ingredients. With arrangements settled, Bromm and I moved to a quieter table near the hearth. Moments later, the front door opened, and Veldrin stormed in, an irritated scowl darkening his features. Elunara glanced up sharply, eyes narrowing slightly, lips pressed in a thin line. Not angry exactly, but clearly not pleased. Veldrin dropped heavily into the chair opposite Bromm and me, sighing dramatically. ¡°Ugh. I''m already sick of this wretched village. Not a single worthwhile reagent to be found.¡± Elunara approached, arms folded as she fixed Veldrin with a pointed stare. ¡°Not even a hello, after all this time?¡± Surprise briefly flickered across his face. ¡°Ah, Elunara,¡± he recovered quickly. ¡°My apologies¡ªI¡¯ve been terribly busy. You know how easily I lose myself in my work.¡± Her expression softened, and a warm smile broke through. She stepped forward, wrapping him in a heartfelt embrace. When they parted, she looked fondly between Bromm and Veldrin. ¡°It¡¯s like the good old days,¡± she said softly, eyes brightening. This was a story I definitely wanted to hear. Elunara quickly returned with four frothy tankards, placing them on the table. ¡°You all know each other?¡± I asked. ¡°Aye,¡± Bromm said warmly. ¡°We traveled together in the same party for quite a while.¡± ¡°Party?¡± I echoed. ¡°A guild,¡± Bromm explained. ¡°A group of adventurers stickin'' together¡ªtaking quests, accepting contracts, exploring uncharted territory, clearin'' dungeons. Most guilds specialize¡ªminers, alchemists, merchants, even bounty hunters. But ours?¡± He smiled broadly. ¡°Ours was pure adventurin¡¯. We called ourselves Starward, always chasing the horizon and whatever lay beyond.¡± Veldrin and Elunara chuckled knowingly. ¡°In case it wasn¡¯t obvious,¡± Elunara said lightly, nudging Veldrin, ¡°Bromm was our resident recruiter.¡± If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Their laughter was contagious. I smiled too, recognizing a familiar feeling. My adventures had been through screens, not across real terrain, but the excitement, camaraderie, and sense of discovery translated perfectly. ¡°It sounds like you all had some great times,¡± I said. Bromm¡¯s smile faded slightly, eyes dimming. ¡°Aye, we did.¡± He hesitated. ¡°Robert was part of our group, too.¡± I caught the change in his expression. ¡°What happened to him?¡± Bromm stared silently into the fire for a long moment. ¡°That¡¯s a story for another day, lad.¡± I wanted to ask more, but the weight in his voice stopped me. ¡°Get some rest,¡± he said, standing and stretching. ¡°We¡¯ve got gnolls to hunt in the mornin¡¯.¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s one way to start a day,¡± I muttered, half-smiling. ¡°Aye, welcome to the Hollow,¡± Bromm chuckled, clapping my shoulder again. After saying our goodnights, I headed up to my room. Tomorrow was a test¡ªmy first chance to prove myself in this new world. As sleep finally began to pull me under¡ª Pop. A wet, sucking noise jolted me awake, followed by the unmistakable voice of a familiar imp. ¡°What¡¯s up, sweet-cheeks?¡± ¡°Whoa¡ªhow did you get here?!¡± I bolted upright, heart racing. The imp floated lazily, grinning wickedly. ¡°Oh, you know. Magic.¡± He settled comfortably at the foot of my bed, head tilted curiously. ¡°But tell me, how exactly are you understanding me?¡± ¡°What?¡± I frowned. ¡°Peculiar, peculiar,¡± it mused, tapping a clawed finger against its temple. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t speak my language, meatbag. Demonic isn¡¯t exactly common around these parts. Yet here we are, having ourselves a lovely chat.¡± A cold weight settled in my gut. ¡°So¡­ I shouldn¡¯t understand you?¡± The imp¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Exactly! Which means you¡¯re special.¡± It practically purred the word. ¡°Tell me, Summoned One¡ªwhat else can you do?¡± ¡°Nothing,¡± I admitted. ¡°Aside from understanding you, I¡¯m not exactly impressive.¡± The imp snorted. ¡°You read the scroll, didn¡¯t you? That¡¯s demonic script. You¡¯re definitely special.¡± It leaned closer, eyes glittering. ¡°Do me a favor, kid¡ªtry not to die tomorrow.¡± With a flick of its tail, it popped out of sight. I rolled onto my side, shutting my eyes. Then onto my back. Then my other side. No matter how hard I tried, sleep wouldn¡¯t come. The imp¡¯s words gnawed at me. It wasn¡¯t just what he said¡ªit was how he said it. Like he was genuinely interested in me. And that¡­ that was unsettling. With a sigh, I sat up and ran a hand through my hair. Maybe some fresh air would clear my head. The village was dead quiet as I stepped outside, the only sound was my boots crunching against the dirt path. If I had to guess by the moon¡ªbright and full, almost glowing like a lantern¡ªit had to be close to midnight. I didn¡¯t wander far. As much as I wanted space, I wasn¡¯t about to ignore every warning I¡¯d been given. Just far enough to be out of sight. No sense in looking like a complete jackass if someone caught me doing what I was about to do. I gripped my axe and swung. Then again. And again. My muscles burned, my arm aching, but I kept at it, trying to build some kind of rhythm. After what felt like an eternity, I paused, shaking out my arm. Then, a thought struck me. I exhaled slowly, stretching out the tension.. I hadn¡¯t just watched Veldrin cast his spell¡ªI had studied him, even if only for a brief moment. The way his fingers curled, the way his stance shifted like he was bracing for something unseen. It hadn¡¯t looked effortless. It had looked deliberate. Intentional. I flexed my fingers, hesitating. Magic was real here. I had seen it. Felt it. Even the imp had practically spelled out that I was different. But that was ridiculous, right? Still¡­ Slowly, I raised my hand, mirroring what I remembered of Veldrin¡¯s posture. My fingers felt clumsy, unsure. I repositioned them, then again, trying to make sense of a shape that had never existed in my world. I closed my eyes and focused. At first, nothing happened. Just the steady hum of night, the distant rustling of leaves. I tried to feel something, anything, but it was like reaching for air. A fool standing in the dark, pretending to grasp at shadows. But then, something shifted¡ªa ripple in the air, a subtle but undeniable pressure against my palm. My fingers twitched, and the sensation grew stronger. Weight. Something was there. Something I could grasp. What the hell? The pressure deepened, dense but shifting, like trying to hold onto water that refused to slip away. It coiled against my skin, unseen but real. My breath caught. And then¡ªIt snapped. The weight vanished in an instant, like a rope yanked from my grip. A sharp crack split the air, followed by a rush of wind¡ªbrief but forceful enough to send dust and leaves skittering around me. I flinched, staring at my empty palm. Nothing. No glow, no heat, no trace of whatever the hell that was. I kept trying, but the same thing happened. Every failure drained me. I could feel it¡ªmy body growing weaker, exhaustion creeping in. And yet, I kept pushing, kept reaching for something just out of grasp. Each attempt stacked upon the last, wearing me down. I shouldn¡¯t be doing this. Not out here. Not alone. But this¡­ was this magic? Everything Veldrin said went against it. I shouldn¡¯t be able to interact with mana. But I was. I wasn¡¯t wielding it, not really¡ªbut I felt it. It was there. It was real. I don¡¯t know how long I stood there¡ªtesting, failing, pushing myself past the point of reason. Each attempt left me weaker, my limbs heavy, my mind fogged with fatigue. But no matter how many times I tried, the result was the same. The energy was there¡ªjust out of reach, slipping through my fingers like water. Eventually, exhaustion won out. With a heavy sigh, I turned back toward the village, my legs dragging with every step. The night was still and silent, save for the distant chirp of insects. If I had to guess, dawn wasn¡¯t far off. I needed rest. As I walked to the inn, my mind kept circling back to what had just happened. Over and over, I replayed every moment, every flicker of sensation. I had felt something¡ªI knew it. It wasn¡¯t just my imagination. And if that was true, then everything Veldrin had said about me being unable to use magic¡­ might not be entirely right. One thing was certain¡ªI needed to tell him. He was a powerful mage, highly regarded. If anyone could make sense of this, it was him. The remainder of my night was uneventful. No more imps appearing out of thin air, no strange sensations lingering in my palm¡ªjust me and my thoughts. Back in my room at the inn, I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the dim glow of the dying embers in the hearth. Despite the exhaustion weighing me down, my mind refused to quiet. I kept re-running the night¡¯s events over and over, trying to make sense of it all. The imp¡¯s cryptic words, the weight I had felt in my hand, the rush of wind as it snapped away¡ªit wasn¡¯t just a trick of my mind. Magic. It had to be magic! I wasn¡¯t supposed to be able to use it. Veldrin had made that clear. And yet¡­ something had been there. I had felt it. That changed everything. I exhaled, rubbing my temples. Sleep wasn¡¯t coming anytime soon, but lying awake obsessing over it wasn¡¯t going to help either. With a sigh, I pulled the blanket over myself and forced my eyes shut. Tomorrow, I¡¯d get answers. One way or another. Chapter 9: A Taste of the Hollow Chapter 9: A Taste of the Hollow A knock at the door jolted me awake. For a brief, disoriented moment, I wasn¡¯t sure where I was. The ceiling above me was rough wooden beams, not the white plaster of my old apartment. The scent of aged timber and faint traces of bread baking downstairs replaced the sterile air conditioning I had once known. Then it hit me¡ªMosswood Hollow. The bounty. The imp. The magic. I groaned, rubbing the sleep from my face as another knock echoed through the room. ¡°Lad, ya still breathin¡¯ in there?¡± Bromm¡¯s voice came muffled through the door. ¡°Sun¡¯s up, and we got work to do!¡± Right. Gnoll hunting. With a sigh, I swung my legs over the bed, already dreading how sore my body felt. Today was going to be interesting. I met Bromm downstairs, finding him seated near the hearth with a tankard in one hand and a fork in the other. The warmth of the fire mixed with the scent of something sweet¡ªhoney and cinnamon. Another smell followed, one that was far more familiar. Warm, buttery, with hints of sugar. My stomach clenched in anticipation as I approached the table. Spread before Bromm was a feast. Sourdough toast with jam and butter, golden-brown cinnamon buns, and an assortment of flaky pastries. At the center sat a heaping pile of bacon and sausage, alongside eggs and what looked like a thick, creamy porridge. I blinked, staring at the sheer variety. Elunara, who had been setting down a fresh tray, caught my expression and smirked. ¡°Are you hungry? You¡¯ll need your energy today, from what Bromm¡¯s told me.¡± ¡°How¡­ how did you make all of this?¡± I managed, still taking it all in. This wasn¡¯t just food¡ªit was the kind of breakfast I¡¯d grown up eating. Something about that was almost unsettling. How could everything be so familiar? Elunara wiped her hands on her apron, looking pleased. ¡°The same way anyone else does. Flour, butter, oats, sugar¡ªor honey, if Bob sniffs me out some. And, of course¡­¡± she winked, ¡°a whole lot of heart.¡± Bromm chuckled between bites. ¡°By heart, she means her Nature Magic. That¡¯s what makes her food better than anyone else¡¯s.¡± I raised a brow. ¡°Nature Magic? Like a druid? How does that help with cooking?¡± Elunara gave me a knowing smile. ¡°It allows me to imbue my food with warmth, care¡­ the kind of strength one might feel from a healing spell. That was my role in our party¡ªI was the group¡¯s healer. And what better way to strengthen people than through the food they eat?¡± That was¡­ interesting. I¡¯d never thought about it like that. It made sense, though. A healer didn¡¯t just mend wounds¡ªthey kept people going. Looking around the inn, at the satisfied patrons and the welcoming atmosphere, I could see how her magic played a role beyond the battlefield. ¡°Well,¡± I said, picking up my fork, ¡°it looks incredible. And smells even better.¡± I took my first bite¡ªand immediately understood what Bromm meant. It was incredible. The cinnamon bun was the obvious first choice, its scent practically pulling me in. The dough was soft, warm, and perfectly sweet, the cinnamon melting into the frosting that quickly dried on my lips. A warmth¡ªnot just physical, but something deeper¡ªspread through me, like I¡¯d just taken a full breath of fresh morning air. I moved on to the bacon and sausage, each bite crispy and bursting with flavor. It was rich, savory, and¡ªoddly enough¡ªfamiliar. Too familiar. The realization settled in as I chewed. This was nearly identical to what I¡¯d eaten back home. I swallowed, setting my fork down. ¡°How is this possible?¡± I asked. ¡°This is almost exactly like the food from my world.¡± Elunara chuckled, unfazed. ¡°Well, there are only so many ways to cook a meal,¡± she said, wiping her hands on her apron. ¡°Every culture has its own twist, sure, but at the end of the day, good food is good food.¡± That made sense¡­ but still. It felt strange. Like another piece of home had found its way here, despite the impossibility of it. I ended my feast with a piece of bread slathered in jam, spreading it evenly before taking a bite. The flavor hit me immediately. It reminded me of homemade strawberry freezer jam, but somehow¡­ more. The sweetness was vibrant and pure, like biting into the ripest, juiciest strawberry at peak season. But then came a crisp undertone¡ªalmost like a fresh apple¡ªadding a bright, refreshing contrast that made each bite feel impossibly satisfying. This. This was the way to start a morning. I leaned back with a satisfied sigh, feeling more awake and refreshed than I had in days. The food was perfect¡ªnot too heavy, not too light¡ªjust right. "I could get used to this," I said, stretching with satisfaction. Bromm chuckled. ¡°Aye, Elunara¡¯s cooking is something special. It''ll serve you well today.¡± ¡°Have either of you seen Veldrin?¡± I asked. ¡°He went to the shop again,¡± Bromm said between bites. ¡°I need to speak with him about something. I¡¯ll just be a moment, then we can head out to hunt those gnolls.¡± Bromm raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t argue. As I stepped outside the inn, I spotted Bob standing over a thatch basket lid filled with apples. He glanced at me, gave a quick grunt, and went back to eating¡ªhis ears twitched though , his gaze flicking around warily. Tufftails I imagined. When I neared the shop, Veldrin was just stepping out the front door. I waved him down, and as soon as I caught up, I launched into an explanation of everything that had happened the night before. I told him about the failures, about the feeling¡ªlike a rope of water, waiting to be shaped. The more I spoke, the wider his eyes became. His mouth opened slightly, shock clear on his face. Then, without warning, he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me close. ¡°Have you told anyone about this?!¡± he demanded, his voice urgent. ¡°No¡ªno one,¡± I stammered. ¡°Just you.¡± ¡°Good,¡± he muttered. ¡°Good.¡± His grip tightened for a moment before he exhaled sharply. ¡°Arthur, do not leave the Hollow. There¡¯s something I must do¡ªsomething I need to get. This is very important. Stay close to Bromm. Do not go beyond the gnolls.¡± Without another word, he turned and hurried off down the path toward his house, leaving me standing there, more confused than before. I wasn¡¯t sure what to make of that reaction. If it was that big of a deal, wouldn¡¯t he have tried harder to stop me from going at all? The fact that he didn¡¯t protest the gnoll hunt meant¡­ what? That it was safe enough? That whatever had him spooked wasn¡¯t related to that? I shook my head. No use dwelling on it now. Whatever Veldrin was up to, he clearly wasn¡¯t about to explain it. I pushed down the uneasy feeling creeping up my spine and forced my mind back to the task ahead¡ªhunting gnolls. ¡°Are you ready to head off now, lad?¡± Bromm asked as I approached the inn. He sat on the bench outside, Bob lounging on the ground beside him, gnawing lazily at what remained of an apple core. ¡°Where¡¯s Veldrin? Was he not at the shop?¡± Bromm added, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Oh, he was there,¡± I said. ¡°I told him about¡­ something I felt, and he hurried off toward his house. Said he needed to grab something, told me to stick close to you, and¡ªoh, and not to go beyond the gnolls.¡± Bromm¡¯s expression shifted. ¡°Veldrin¡­ left?¡± His brow furrowed. ¡°What exactly did you tell him?¡± I hesitated. If I trusted Veldrin with this, why not Bromm? He¡¯d been nothing but solid so far. So I told him¡ªeverything. How I had concentrated, mimicked Veldrin¡¯s stance, and for the briefest moment, felt something. Like a rope of water straining in my grip, weighty, shifting, ready to break free. I hadn¡¯t accomplished anything with it, but the feeling had been undeniable. Bromm listened in silence, his face unreadable. When I finished, he let out a slow breath and just¡­ shook his head. ¡°Lad¡­ yah don¡¯t realize what this means.¡± He rubbed his beard, his expression unreadable. ¡°This¡­ this is beyond my knowing.¡± That wasn¡¯t exactly reassuring. But then, just as quickly, he straightened, clapping his hands together. ¡°Well, no sense in standin¡¯ here gawkin¡¯ over it. We¡¯ll wait for Veldrin to get back, but in the meantime¡ªwhat do you say we go catch ourselves a bounty?¡± He grinned, shaking off whatever weight had just settled over him. Bob grunted, making a deep huff before pushing himself onto his feet, already prepared for the hunt. I took a breath and nodded. Whatever this all meant, I¡¯d find out soon enough. For now, I had gnolls to deal with. We followed the road out of the village, the morning air crisp and cool. It wasn¡¯t long before we reached a familiar creek¡ªthe same one I had stumbled across on my first day, back when I was too busy trying not to hyperventilate to appreciate my surroundings. Now, with clearer eyes, I took in the landscape properly. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. As we stepped off the road and moved along the creek¡¯s edge, it became clear just how much the land had been shaped by water. The small, slow-moving stream was deceptive; at some point in the past, this must have been a mighty river. The way the earth had been carved, the deep, curving bends and the sheer, sloped banks¡ªit was obvious this place had once held something much greater. The cutbanks rose nearly nine feet on either side, their walls packed tight with layers of sediment and lined with the tangled, exposed roots of nearby trees. It made for an eerie, almost skeletal look, like the land itself had been stripped bare. Eventually, we reached the pond where the creek pooled, and I found myself stopping, caught off guard by just how clear the water was. Even from the edge, I could see straight to the bottom. Thick swaths of underwater plants swayed gently in the current, their vibrant greens shifting like slow-moving ribbons. Schools of fish darted between them, some no bigger than my fingers, others large enough to make me pause. At the bottom, nestled among the rocks, sat massive shelled creatures¡ªcrabs, but not like any I¡¯d seen before. Their thick, armored bodies looked built for something much tougher than scavenging. It was strange, standing here again under such different circumstances. The first time, I had barely been able to process any of this, my mind reeling from my sudden arrival. Now, I was here with purpose. And I had the creeping feeling this wouldn¡¯t be the last time I¡¯d find myself back at this pond. Bromm put a hand on my shoulder, and I turned to see both him and Bob already in a ready stance. Bromm¡¯s musket was half-raised, his grip steady, while Bob moved low and slow through the thick brush beside the tree line, his body tense with anticipation. Ahead, the cavern came into view¡ªa gaping hole bored into the side of a rocky hill, sloping downward into darkness. The ground around the entrance was littered with large paw prints, dozens of them, pressed deep into the dirt. From within, echoes of wild laughter and guttural growls drifted out, a chilling reminder of what waited inside. I swallowed hard and drew my axe and buckler. This was it¡ªthe moment that would prove what kind of person I was in this world. Bromm glanced back at me, raising an eyebrow before motioning for me to stay put. Then, he reached into his belt and pulled out a small metal sphere, its surface etched with strange markings that looked like runes. With a flick of his thumb, he twisted the top, releasing a faint hiss before tossing it down the cavern hole. A moment later, a thick, choking cloud began to billow upward, spreading fast. From within, the growls turned to confused coughs and snarls. Bromm smirked. ¡°What, ye didn¡¯t think we¡¯d be going down there with just the two of us, did ya?¡± He readied his musket, nodding toward the entrance. ¡°Pick them off as they come up. They¡¯ll be disoriented, but don¡¯t count ¡®em out¡ªkeep your shield raised and strike when you see an opening, lad.¡± My hand trembled, fingers clenched so tightly around the axe handle that I could feel the wood biting into my palm. This was it. This was happening. Then¡ªmovement. A hulking shape burst from the smoke, lurching forward on unsteady legs. It was just like the one I had seen before¡ªa crazed, wolf-headed beast, its wild eyes darting erratically as if struggling to focus. Tattered scraps of armor clung to its body, a patchwork of leather and rusted metal, barely held together by crude straps. It blinked rapidly, nostrils flaring, its breath ragged and uneven. The smoke had done its job¡ªthis thing was disoriented. But not harmless. No weapon in its hands. That should have been a relief, but I knew better. I had seen those claws before¡ªwicked, curved things, meant for rending flesh. If I let it get close, it wouldn¡¯t need a blade. I gritted my teeth, shifting my stance. My pulse hammered in my ears. Now or never. I roared, forcing the fear down, and lunged. My body moved before my mind could catch up¡ªclumsy, desperate, untrained. I swung my axe with both hands, aiming for the gnoll¡¯s torso. The strike was wild, lacking precision, but I put everything I had into it. The gnoll staggered, sluggish from the smoke, but still fast enough to react. My blade cut through empty air, missing its center but clipping its shoulder with a solid thunk. The impact jolted up my arms, sending a shock through my grip. Holy shit, that actually hit! The gnoll howled, more in anger than pain. It bared its yellowed teeth and lurched at me, claws swiping blindly. I barely had time to react. Shield¡ª! I yanked my buckler up at the last second. The gnoll¡¯s claws scraped across the metal with a sharp screech, the force nearly ripping the shield from my grip. The impact sent me stumbling back, my stance breaking. My arm throbbed from the jolt¡ªI hadn¡¯t expected how much force these things had. The gnoll shook its head, blinking through the smoke-induced haze, then snarled, its hunched frame tensing for another lunge. I panicked. With no time to think, I swung again¡ªtoo sloppy. The axe glanced off its ribs instead of biting deep, but it was enough to make the gnoll recoil. I had to finish it. With a yell, I raised my axe high¡ªthis time gripping it tighter¡ªand brought it crashing down. The blade split through its skull with a sickening crack. The gnoll spasmed, its growl cutting off into a wet gurgle. It collapsed to its knees, then slumped forward, unmoving. It was no longer standing. I stared at the body, my chest heaving, my arms trembling from exertion. The air reeked of blood and smoke. I had killed it. Before I could even process what I had just done, movement broke through the thick haze. A dark silhouette¡ªno, two, three! My breath hitched. More gnolls. The closest one lunged, teeth bared in a frenzied snarl¡ªonly to be met by the roar of gunfire. BOOM! A cloud of black powder burst from Bromm¡¯s musket, the shot slamming into the gnoll¡¯s chest. It crumpled mid-step, its body hitting the dirt with a lifeless thud. Before I could even blink, Bob was already charging. His hooves thundered against the ground as he plowed into the second gnoll, tusks punching into its abdomen with a sickening squelch. The gnoll let out a choked scream as Bob drove forward, hoisting it off the ground before hurling it to the side like a ragdoll. It hit the ground hard, writhing and clutching its gut, blood seeping between its fingers. The third gnoll was on me. Instinct took over. I barely had time to think¡ªI just reacted. I swung my buckler forward, slamming the metal rim into the gnoll¡¯s snout with a crack! The beast yelped, staggering backward, dazed. Before it could recover, Bromm surged forward, his axe gleaming as he brought it down in a brutal arc. The blade cleaved into the gnoll¡¯s collarbone, nearly splitting it in two. It let out a wet, gurgling gasp before crumpling to the ground, unmoving. For a moment, there was only silence¡ªsave for my ragged breathing. Bromm turned to me, wiping his blade on his sleeve. He gave a sharp nod. ¡°Not bad, lad. Quick thinkin¡¯¡ªthat shield work¡¯ll keep ya alive.¡± A swell of pride rose in my chest¡ªuntil¡­ thunk! A flash of steel. Pain exploded in my shoulder. I barely had time to register the knife embedded deep in my flesh before the force of it sent me crashing flat onto my back. My vision blurred for a moment, the world spinning like a dizzying carousel. The air in my lungs vanished in an instant, replaced by the sickening sensation of blood rushing to my head. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, deafening me as I lay there, dazed and vulnerable. "Arthur!" Bromm''s voice cut through the chaos, a sharp, urgent call. I blinked, trying to focus, my vision clearing as I strained to move. The fight wasn''t over. I was still conscious, still breathing. With a grunt, I reached for my shield, pushing myself onto one knee despite the searing pain in my shoulder. My fingers fumbled, my grip unsteady as I examined the wound. The steel dart was rusted, old, the edges jagged. It had buried itself a few inches into my flesh, leaving behind a deep, bloody wound that pulsed with every heartbeat. I couldn¡¯t see where it had come from¡ªno archer, no movement in the fog¡ªjust the sudden strike that had nearly taken me down. As I tried to steady myself, a low growl reverberated through the fog, chilling the air around me. It wasn¡¯t just the sound of one gnoll. No, this one was different. Through the dense, swirling mist, a hulking shape moved with unnatural speed. At first, it seemed like a shadow, an indistinct form shifting among the thick haze, but then the outline sharpened¡ªa gnoll, its figure towering over the others, moving with fluid, predatory grace. This was no ordinary gnoll. It was the leader, it had to be. Unlike the others, whose movements were clumsy and aggressive, this gnoll flowed through the fog like it was part of it. Its steps were deliberate, calculated. The mist clung to it, swirling around the gnoll as though it were born from the fog itself. Its eyes gleamed with an intelligence that was cold and calculating, shifting between me, Bromm, and Bob as it assessed the situation. But Bromm didn¡¯t give it time to plan. He whistled sharply, a sound that Bob knew well. The boar charged, a blur of muscle and speed. The gnoll reacted instantly, sidestepping the boar¡¯s charge with an agility that belied its size. But it wasn¡¯t just a dodge. It was a calculated move, one that left the gnoll slightly off balance as its body twisted with the movement. It thought it had evaded the threat¡ªbut that was exactly what Bromm wanted. Before the gnoll could steady itself, Bromm was already in motion. The moment it was off-balance, Bromm struck. His axe swung with the precision of a veteran adventurer, a follow-up that came too quickly for the gnoll to react. The blade found its mark with a sickening crunch, sinking deep into the gnoll''s skull. Despite its size, the gnoll didn¡¯t stand a chance against the raw power and speed of Bromm¡¯s strike. The impact sent the gnoll stumbling backward, its body collapsing into a heap with no strength to rise again. It was over before the gnoll had a chance to recover. A swift, calculated move, the result of years of experience, had ended the fight in an instant. The gnoll wasn¡¯t getting up. I stared at the fallen gnoll, still gripping my shoulder, my mind processing what had just happened. "Wow, that was incredible," I said, my voice still a little shaken. I hadn¡¯t expected such precision. Bromm¡¯s movements were so calculated, so fast. I figured he was good, but damn. He made it look easy. Bromm caught the look on my face and let out a hearty laugh. ¡°A Gnoll¡¯s still a Gnoll at the end of the day, lad. No big deal.¡± He clapped me on the back, making me wince in pain. ¡°That was your first encounter, and you did fine. Now¡ª¡± He glanced at my wound, still bleeding through my armor. ¡°You still have that Glimmergill Bloom?¡± I nodded, wincing as I tried to steady myself. ¡°Good,¡± he continued. ¡°Once you pull that knife out, crush up the Glimmergill and put it on that wound. It¡¯ll help stop the bleeding and heal it up fast. I¡¯ll stand watch. No more gnolls should be sneakin¡¯ up on us now that their leader''s out of the picture. They¡¯ll scatter.¡± I was still trying to absorb what just happened, but I managed a strained smile. "Another day in the Hollow," I muttered, half in disbelief. Bromm grinned and patted Bob, who was snuffling around for scraps. ¡°Aye, lad. Just another day.¡± He turned his attention back to the fog, which was now almost all dissipated, keeping a sharp eye out for any other threats. I yanked the dart out, the pain shooting through my shoulder as it tore further on the way out. Gritting my teeth, I grabbed the Glimmergill Bloom from my pack and crushed it in my palms, turning it into a fine, grainy powder. Once it was ready, I pressed it onto the wound. The sensation was unsettling as the Glimmergill Bloom took effect. My skin seemed to pull together in small, precise motions, like each part of the wound was being sewn back together at a rapid pace. It felt almost mechanical, the edges of the gash drawing in and fusing with an unnatural speed. While it was undeniably effective, the feeling was strange and deeply uncomfortable. Bromm unsheathed his knife from his belt and handed it to me. ¡°Here, lad. You need the practice. But do try not to butcher it too badly, or old Zibbin Fizzlegear won¡¯t be giving us diddly for these. Take your time.¡± Before getting to work, Bromm crouched by the fallen pack leader, giving the gnoll¡¯s limp body a once-over. With practiced efficiency, he checked for anything of value¡ªturning out its tattered pouches, rifling through its crude armor. A handful of rusted knives, a few bone charms, and a twisted bit of metal that might have once been a coin clattered onto the dirt. ¡°Nothing worth a damn,¡± he muttered, shoving aside a pouch of dried meat that smelled rancid even from a distance. Still, he took anything that wasn¡¯t completely useless and tucked it away in his pack. I followed his lead, patting down the gnoll I had killed. Most of what I found was junk¡ªbits of sinew cord, broken trinkets¡ªbut I did come across a small, bloodstained pouch containing a few silver pieces. I pocketed it before moving on. Once the bodies were searched, Bromm gave me a nod. ¡°Right, lad. Now the ears. Clean cuts¡ªone slice. No need to get fancy.¡± Chapter 10 Ears, Beers, and a Stone of Chaos Chapter 10 Ears, Beers, and a Stone of Chaos I did a much better job gathering the ears this time. Instead of fumbling around like I was carving a pumpkin, I made clean, quick slices with each ear. When the last one was cut, I dropped it into the sack¡ªten in total, two much larger than the others. So, let¡¯s recap: we just took down five gnolls. I actually killed one¡ªwith an axe. Then their leader put a damn metal dart in my shoulder. This¡­ this was my life now. I chuckled at the absurdity of it all. Bromm glanced at me. ¡°You finished then? We¡¯d best be getting back to the village.¡± As we walked along the creek, I couldn¡¯t help but ask, ¡°Hey Bromm, you and Bob work so well together. How long have you two been side by side adventuring?¡± Bromm thought for a moment. ¡°Well, now¡­ must be¡­ fifty years.¡± ¡°Fifty years!?¡± I said, louder than I meant to. ¡°Fifty years of just adventuring? No wonder they made it look so easy.¡± Bromm let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head. ¡°Aye, lad. I don¡¯t know how your world worked, but even a beardling could take down a gnoll. A pack leader might give ''em trouble, but aye, gnolls are what everyone who wants to adventure starts with. Usually low risk.¡± ¡°Usually¡­¡± I muttered, dragging out the word, still processing the sheer weight of his experience. Bromm clapped me on the back, grinning. ¡°Don¡¯t get down on yourself, lad. Those swings struck true. And you¡¯re still breathing¡ªthat¡¯s a win in my book¡± He was right. I was still breathing. But as the adrenaline faded, the weight of everything started to settle in. The way Bromm spoke about it, even children could handle killing gnolls without much trouble. Meanwhile, I had barely scraped through my first fight. I was trying to keep a level head about all this, but reality was sinking in¡ªone mistake out here didn¡¯t mean a setback. It meant death. I forced myself to keep walking, shoving those thoughts aside for now. As we neared the road, Bob let out an angry snort, his ears flicking with irritation. The Tufftails were out in force, chittering and leaping between the branches above us. The little creatures were relentless, their beady eyes locked on us, waiting for something to drop¡ªan apple, a scrap of food, anything they could snatch up. They were funny little things. Cute, even. But judging by the way Bob¡¯s tail twitched with barely contained fury, the feeling wasn¡¯t mutual. As we reached the Hollow, our first stop was Zibbin Fizzlegear¡¯s shop. Just before we entered, Bromm grabbed two fresh posters from the job board. ¡°We¡¯ll be cashing in these bounties,¡± he said. Inside, I opened my pack and dumped all the gnoll ears onto the counter. Zibbin¡¯s bushy eyebrows shot up as his floating quill and parchment began scribbling furiously. He picked up one of the larger ears, inspecting it far too intently for my comfort. "Not bad... not bad," he muttered, turning it over. Then, with a smirk, he added, ¡°Much better job than that first butchered pair you brought in the other day!¡± I groaned. Bromm just chuckled. Zibbin snatched the bounty parchment from Bromm, shoved it into a folder that looked like it was made of leaves, then turned and pulled a small sack from the shelf behind him. With a quick motion, he counted out twenty gold pieces and slid them across the counter. Bromm grabbed the coins and immediately handed me ten. ¡°Wow, thanks! Are you sure?¡± I asked, eyeing the stack of coins in my palm. ¡°Aye,¡± Bromm said with a grin. ¡°You deserve it. And, more importantly, you need it.¡± I wasn¡¯t about to argue with that. I took the coins and secured them in my pack. ¡°How¡¯s about a drink?¡± Bromm asked. That sounded great, but what I really wanted¡ªwhat my body practically ached for¡ªwas food. Elunara¡¯s food. I was starving, but it wasn¡¯t just hunger driving me. There was something about her cooking, something I couldn¡¯t quite put into words. Sure, she had said she infused her meals with magic, but it wasn¡¯t just that. It wasn¡¯t about flavor alone¡ªthough the taste was incredible. It was deeper, something you felt as much as you tasted. Her food didn¡¯t just satisfy hunger; it settled you, like a warmth that spread past your stomach and into your very being. It was comfort, not just in the way a good meal should be, but in a way that reached your spirit. Like being wrapped in the feeling of home, even in a world that wasn¡¯t your own. When we got inside the Frog Leg, we quickly found a table. Elunara was at another table but had seen us come in and gave us a wave. As we waited for her to come over, I remembered something Bromm had mentioned. ¡°Hey Bromm, when you told me about Veldrin, you said something¡­Arcanum-something?¡± Bromm took a deep swig of his drink, exhaling through his nose like a bellows cooling steel. ¡°The Umbral Arcanum,¡± he muttered, shaking his head. ¡°Mages with more curiosity than caution. A rare lot¡ªchosen not only for their power, but for their minds. The best, brightest, and most damnably stubborn spellcasters to ever walk this world.¡± I frowned. ¡°Chosen for their minds?¡± Bromm nodded, tapping a thick finger on the table. ¡°Most who wield magic do so ¡®cause they were gifted it. The Arcanum were different. They weren¡¯t just spell-flingers¡ªthey were scholars, theorists, experimenters. They studied magic in all its forms¡ªtore it apart, rebuilt it, tested its limits. Where the rest of the world saw sorcery as a gift, they saw a field of study, a puzzle to be solved.¡± I shifted in my seat. ¡°That¡­ doesn¡¯t sound too bad?¡± Bromm snorted. ¡°Aye, and fire ain¡¯t bad till ye stick yer hand in it.¡± He leaned forward. ¡°Magic¡¯s a force, lad. It shapes the world, the very bones of it. But when ye start pryin¡¯ at its roots, askin¡¯ questions no one else dares to¡ª well, ye start finding answers no sane man should. Some of ¡®em built wonders. Some uncovered things that were meant to stay buried. And some¡­¡± He exhaled, shaking his head. ¡°Some went too far.¡± I exhaled. ¡°And Veldrin?¡± Bromm let out a dry chuckle. ¡°Aye, and then some. Most men learn magic like a trade¡ªye take what¡¯s given, use it, follow the rules. But Veldrin? He¡¯s spent his life arguin¡¯ with magic. He tests it, breaks it, forces it to explain itself. The kind of man who don¡¯t just read a spell¡ªhe takes it apart to see how it ticks.¡± Bromm sat back, shaking his head. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want that kind of mind in me, lad. But if anyone can make sense of yer mess? It¡¯s him.¡± I stared down at my drink, swirling the liquid absently. The way Bromm spoke, the Umbral Arcanum weren¡¯t just mages¡ªthey were men who refused to accept magic at face value. Scholars who pulled it apart, rebuilt it, tested its limits, all to understand what no one else could. And wasn¡¯t that exactly what I needed? Magic had rules¡ªat least, that''s what Veldrin had said. Rules about who could wield it, who could touch it, who belonged in this world. My presence here, the fact that I''d somehow crossed over without explanation or invitation, meant something had broken those rules. If the Arcanum was dedicated to exploring magic¡ªto understanding its quirks, studying its patterns, learning how it fit into everyday life¡ªthen maybe, just maybe¡­ Veldrin really was the only one who could help me make sense of it all. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Before I could dwell on it further, Elunara arrived at our table, setting down two tankards of that frothing goodness and a warm loaf of ferowen bread, its crust crackling as it met the air. She slid into the seat across from us, giving us both a knowing look. ¡°So,¡± she said, resting her chin on her hand. ¡°How¡¯d the bounty collecting go?¡± Bromm let out a hearty chuckle. ¡°Oh, those gnolls won¡¯t be an issue for some time. Took care of their pack leader¡ªreal nasty one, too.¡± He nodded toward me, grinning. ¡°Arthur here got a dart in the shoulder and all he could think about was yer cookin¡¯.¡± Elunara¡¯s brows lifted in amusement. ¡°Oh? Not the pain? Not the life-or-death battle? Just my food?¡± I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling very called out. ¡°Well¡­ priorities.¡± Bromm roared with laughter, thumping the table. ¡°Aye, lad¡¯s got his head on straight after all.¡± Elunara chuckled, shaking her head. ¡°You two are hopeless. Eat up.¡± She tore off a piece of bread and slid it toward me. The scent of fresh herbs and warm grain filled the air, and just like before, that same deep warmth settled over me before I even took a bite. Elunara left to tend to a group of new patrons who had just walked in, and Bromm grabbed the last few slices of bread, muttering something about "keeping Bob from razin¡¯ the whole damn place down." He headed for the door, leaving me alone at the table for the first time since we got back. I let out a slow breath, sinking into my seat. The flickering lanterns overhead cast a warm glow, the steady murmur of conversation blending into something almost comforting. I let myself relax. Then the chair across from me scraped against the floor. I looked up¡ªVeldrin. ¡°Hello, Arthur," he said, breathless, like he''d just sprinted here from the ends of the earth. "I have returned, and I..." He inhaled sharply, pressing a hand to his chest. "...I am ready to¡ª" He exhaled, collecting himself. "Assess you." I blinked. Assess me? Before I could even ask, Bromm stepped back inside, irritation clear on his face as he shot a glance over his shoulder. "Damn pig''s gotten spoiled rotten," he muttered. Then he spotted Veldrin and let out a groan. "Oh, Hells. What now?" Veldrin waved him off. "Not now, dwarf." His sharp gaze locked onto me, his voice dropping low. "Outside. Now." I barely had time to react before he was already moving. I shot Bromm a quick glance, but the dwarf just sighed, muttering something under his breath as he got up to follow. The cool night air hit my skin as we stepped outside, the village streets dimly lit by lantern glow. Bob huffed at our approach, ears twitching as he lazily shifted his weight. Veldrin¡¯s eyes flicked around, scanning the quiet road before turning to Bromm. ¡°We need to go somewhere private.¡± His voice was firm, almost urgent. ¡°You still live in the same place?¡± Bromm narrowed his eyes. ¡°Aye¡­ Why?¡± Veldrin inhaled sharply, lowering his voice. ¡°Because if we do this here, we¡¯ll have the whole damn village talking by morning. And that is not a risk I¡¯m willing to take.¡± Bromm studied him for a long moment, then exhaled through his nose. ¡°fine¡± he grumbled. ¡°Follow me.¡± We made our way up the gentle rise toward Bromm¡¯s home. It wasn¡¯t far from the Frog Leg, just a short walk up the hill, but the slight elevation made it feel more secluded. From here, I could still see the glow of lanterns flickering in the village below, but the sounds of conversation and clinking mugs faded into the night air. Up here, it was quieter. As we neared his house, I noticed a small shack off to the side, its door secured with a metal grate. Through the gaps, I could see barrels stacked high with apples, their deep red skins catching the glow of the moonlight. Bromm wasn¡¯t taking any chances¡ªTufftails were persistent little thieves, and this was his way of keeping them at bay. Bromm pushed open his front door¡ªa battered slab of wood that creaked on its hinges. The inside was as simple and sturdy as the dwarf himself¡ªa single round room, practical and compact. A stone slab bed sat against one wall, worn smooth over years of use. A small firepit rested near the center, more for heating than cooking. A single cabinet locker stood off to the side, its heavy wood reinforced with thick metal bands. We gathered inside, forming a rough triangle in the dim light. Then, without a word, Veldrin reached into his robes and pulled something out. A stone. It was unlike anything I¡¯d ever seen. Black¡ªbut not just black. Shades of darkness swirled inside, shifting like smoke trapped beneath glass. It looked ethereal, almost unreal, as if the very air around it was bending, whispering. The longer I stared, the deeper it seemed¡ªlike I could fall into it if I wasn¡¯t careful. Veldrin held it up between his fingers, the swirling void within reflecting in his wide, eager eyes. ¡°This,¡± he murmured, voice thick with anticipation, ¡°is an Aetherstone.¡± He turned it slightly, watching the shifting dark within. ¡°It will reveal your magic affinity¡­ if you have one.¡± He extended it toward me, his gaze intense. ¡°Now¡ªtouch it. Hold firm. Don¡¯t let go.¡± I did as he instructed, wrapping my fingers around the Aetherstone. The moment my skin met its surface, a deep warmth spread through my palm¡ªnot burning, but just a breath away from being too hot to hold. A tingling sensation snaked up my arm, like invisible threads weaving over one another beneath my skin. The warmth pulsed, but at the same time, something cold coiled within it, the contrast sending shivers through me. Then, in an instant, the sensation snapped back into the stone. I looked down. The inky blackness of the Aetherstone was gone. In its place was something impossible¡ªa pure, featureless white, as if the stone had been bleached of all existence. Then, symbols¡ªtiny, intricate glyphs¡ªbegan crawling across its surface, shifting and forming in colors I couldn¡¯t even name. They shimmered, impossibly small yet perfectly clear, running together in a kaleidoscope of movement. Deep purples, electric blues, greens so vivid they seemed alive¡ªall bleeding into one another, darkness and light twisting and pulsing like a living thing. It looked almost like a slot machine in motion¡ªcolors spinning, shifting, never stopping. I expected it to slow, to settle on a final shade, to give some kind of answer. But it didn¡¯t. It just kept going. A sharp, strangled sound tore from Veldrin¡¯s throat. Before I could react, my hand jerked away from the stone as if I¡¯d been burned. The moment I let go, the colors vanished. The stone darkened, its swirling void returning as if nothing had happened. Silence. Then¡ª ¡°No. No, no, no, no, no.¡± Veldrin¡¯s hands flew into his hair, gripping at the strands like he was about to tear them out. He started pacing in the tiny space, muttering so fast under his breath that I couldn¡¯t catch half of it. Bromm, watching him, exhaled. ¡°Oh, here we go.¡± Veldrin spun back toward me, his fingers twitching in the air like he was about to strangle an invisible explanation out of the ether. ¡°That¡¯s not¡ª! That doesn¡¯t¡ª! IT CAN¡¯T DO THAT.¡± He gestured wildly at the stone, shaking it as if he could rattle sense into it. ¡°You do not understand. The Aetherstone reveals affinity. Singular. One. A calling, a tether to magic that already exists within a person.¡± He jabbed a finger at my chest. ¡°You? That was not singular. That was chaos.¡± He whirled toward Bromm. ¡°Did you see that?! Colors. Plural. A LOT of them.¡± Bromm grunted, folding his arms. ¡°Aye.¡± Veldrin threw his hands in the air. ¡°Aye?! That¡¯s all you have to say?!¡± Bromm scratched his beard. ¡°Well, lad¡¯s already weird. This just makes it official.¡± Veldrin let out a strangled groan. He grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me slightly. ¡°Do you have any idea what this means?! Do you even grasp the magnitude of what just happened?!¡± I opened my mouth, but he cut me off immediately, his voice rising an octave. ¡°NO, OF COURSE YOU DON¡¯T! BECAUSE IT DOESN¡¯T MAKE ANY GODS-DAMNED SENSE!¡± He released me and began pacing again, one hand clenching and unclenching. ¡°There should be a school. A focus. Fire. Water. Earth. Shadow. Something.¡± He stopped, exhaling sharply through his nose. His eyes flicked to the Aetherstone, then back to me. ¡°But that? That was¡­ I don¡¯t know what that was.¡± For a moment, he just stared at the stone, his fingers twitching at his sides. Then, finally, his hands dropped, and his voice, when he spoke again, was quieter. Almost reverent. ¡°I don¡¯t like not knowing things, Arthur.¡± His fingers tapped against his arms as if trying to piece together an explanation. ¡°But whatever that was? I¡¯ve never seen it before.¡± He inhaled sharply, straightening. His usual sharpness returned, tempered by something more serious. ¡°I need to find out what this means. If you can wield magic, we have to understand what kind. If it even is magic.¡± He glanced at the stone again, then back to me. ¡°It could just be this world rejecting you. Or it means¡­ something else.¡± Veldrin took a step closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. ¡°Do not speak to anyone about this, Arthur. Not yet. Until we know what we¡¯re dealing with, this stays between us.¡± His expression darkened, his fingers tightening at his sides. ¡°We need answers. Which means training.¡± His gaze locked onto mine, unblinking. ¡°If we figure this out, we may not just learn what you can do¡ªwe might finally understand what brought you here¡­ and why.¡± A heavy silence settled between us. The weight of his words lingered in the air, thick with implications I wasn¡¯t sure I was ready for. Then Bromm cleared his throat. ¡°Right, well. That¡¯s enough ominous magic talk for one night.¡± He clapped a hand on my shoulder . ¡°You¡¯re looking half-dead on your feet, lad. Best get yourself back to the Frog Leg before you topple over.¡± I blinked. I was exhausted. The day had been a lot¡ªfighting gnolls, getting stabbed, the whole ¡°possibly wielding magic¡± thing. My body felt heavy, my mind even heavier. Sleep sounded like the best idea I¡¯d heard all day. Veldrin exhaled sharply, his expression still serious. ¡°Get rest. We start at first light.¡± Bromm snorted. ¡°First light? You¡¯ll be lucky if he makes it out of bed before mid-mornin¡¯ after all this.¡± I let out a tired chuckle and shook my head. ¡°I¡¯ll be there.¡± Bromm walked me to the door, the cool night air hitting me as I stepped outside. Behind me, Veldrin was already muttering to himself, staring at the Aetherstone like it owed him an explanation. As I made my way back to the Frog Leg, my mind swirled with everything that had happened. The gnolls, the stone, the impossible shifting colors. I wasn¡¯t sure what tomorrow would bring, but one thing was certain. My life here was only getting stranger. I made my way upstairs to my room, exhaustion settling deep in my bones. Peeling off my shirt, I inspected my shoulder where the gnoll had stabbed me. The Glimmergill had done its job well, the wound was completely gone. No scar, no lingering pain. If I hadn¡¯t experienced it firsthand, I wouldn¡¯t have believed I¡¯d been injured at all. The only light in the room came from the moon outside my window, casting soft silver over the wooden walls. I needed new clothes. A better weapon. But that was a tomorrow problem. Right now, I just needed to sleep. My head barely hit the pillow before I was out. Chapter 11: Fishing for Trouble (and Magic) Chapter 11: Fishing for Trouble (and Magic) BANG BANG BANG! The door shuddered under the force of the knocks, jolting me awake. My brain barely had time to process where I was before¡ª BANG BANG BANG! ¡°Arthur!¡± Veldrin¡¯s voice rang through the wood, sharp and impatient. ¡°Are you truly still abed? What are you, some pampered princeling wasting away in a perfumed parlor? Up! Time does not dally for those who sleep their lives away!¡± I groaned, rubbing my face. ¡°Veldrin, it¡¯s¡ª¡± I glanced toward the window. The sun had barely begun creeping over the horizon. ¡°¡ªtoo damn early for this.¡± There was a sharp, offended scoff from the other side of the door. "Too early? My dear Arthur, did you somehow mistake this world for one where you could afford such luxuries?" I flopped back onto the pillow with a grunt. "You¡¯re actually insane." "Yes, yes, madness and genius and all that¡ªand yet, I¡¯m still the only one awake." A pause. Then, in a dramatically hushed tone, he added, "Do you know what happens to those who delay when they should be preparing?" I sighed. "I''m guessing it¡¯s¡ª" "They die, Arthur. Horribly. Or worse, they remain ignorant." There was a sharp click from the door handle. "Wait¡ªVeldrin¡ª" Too late. The door swung open. Veldrin stood in the doorway, arms folded, eyes glinting with impatience. ¡°Now. If you¡¯re quite finished lounging about like some feckless layabout, get dressed and follow me. We have important matters to attend to.¡± I groaned and sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. My body still felt sore from yesterday, though my shoulder was fine thanks to the Glimmergill. Small mercies. I pulled on my shirt, rolling my shoulders to loosen up. ¡°You could¡¯ve at least let me wake up on my own.¡± Veldrin scoffed. "And waste precious time? If I had left you to your own devices, I shudder to think how long you''d wallow in bed, indulging in idleness." I muttered something under my breath but didn¡¯t argue. There was no winning with him. Trailing behind, I followed Veldrin down the creaky wooden stairs of the Frog Leg. The warm scent of fresh bread and sizzling meat met me halfway down, and my stomach immediately reminded me I hadn¡¯t eaten yet. Well, at least I had Elunara¡¯s cooking to look forward to. As we reached the bottom of the stairs, I scanned the tavern for an empty table¡ª Only for Veldrin to seize my shoulder and steer me toward the door. I resisted, eyes darting toward the counter. "Wait¡ªshouldn¡¯t we eat first?" Veldrin didn¡¯t break stride. "We¡¯ll grab something on the way." "On the way to where?" He didn¡¯t answer. Just pushed the door open and stepped out into the early morning light, dragging me with him. As we stepped outside, I spotted Bromm and Bob already waiting for us. Bob, face-deep in a basket of apples, let out a satisfied squeal, his tail wagging like a dog¡¯s. At least someone got breakfast. Bromm looked up and gave me a nod. ¡°Hope you had a good rest, lad.¡± I stretched, still groggy. ¡°I did¡ªuntil I was woken up so abruptly.¡± Bromm just chuckled. ¡°Aye, he does that.¡± I exhaled and glanced between the two of them. ¡°So¡­ what¡¯s the plan?¡± Veldrin scoffed. ¡°The plan, foolish boy, is to train.¡± I blinked. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not very specific.¡± Veldrin ignored me, folding his arms. ¡°We must get an understanding of what kind of power you possess¡ªand how you came about it. The more we learn, the closer we may come to answering your predicament . Which means today¡¯s goal is simple: we will make your magic manifest. One way or another.¡± I swallowed. ¡°Right. And how exactly do we do that?¡± Veldrin¡¯s lips curled into a sharp, eager grin. ¡°Trial. And error.¡± A chill ran down my spine. That was not reassuring. Veldrin just grinned¡ªthe kind of grin that told me I probably wasn¡¯t going to like what came next. Without further complaint, we headed westward¡ªa direction I hadn¡¯t taken yet. I didn¡¯t ask where we were going. Figured I¡¯d find out when we got there. But there was something I did want to know. ¡°Hey Veldrin, what exactly is the Aetherstone? I get that it reads magical affinity, but how does it actually work?¡± Veldrin let out a long-suffering sigh, rubbing his temples like I had just asked him to explain why fire was hot. "Arthur. Try to keep up." He adjusted his robes, then launched into full lecture mode. ¡°The ability to wield and shape mana comes naturally, as part of one''s affinity. The Aetherstone itself merely reveals the specific type of magic a person is most naturally attuned to. It doesn¡¯t grant power¡ªit simply identifies potential. Alchemists long ago developed these stones by studying the interactions between mana and a person''s internal energies, allowing us to recognize someone''s innate magical strengths." His fingers twitched, as if resisting the urge to smack me for making him explain something so ¡®obvious.¡¯ ¡°There are only ten known Aetherstones in existence. Three belonged to the Umbral Arcanum, and one, as you have so astutely observed, is in my possession. Scholars like myself study these stones because understanding magical affinities lets us uncover new pathways for using and enhancing magic." He exhaled sharply, his pace quickening. ¡°Usually, the stone shows a clear, singular affinity¡ªfire, water, earth, shadow¡ªand so forth. From there, people train in their specific school, becoming proficient over time. That is how magic traditionally works." His sharp eyes flicked to me. ¡°And yet, you¡­¡± His fingers twitched again, like he wanted to grab me and shake the answers out of my skull. ¡°You displayed every color. Every single one, even colors I had never seen before. Which means, Arthur, you are something entirely new¡ªsomething outside of my current understanding.¡± A chill settled over me. ¡°And¡­ what exactly does that mean for me?¡± Veldrin scoffed. ¡°It means I have no idea what you can do¡ªor how you might go about doing it. It''s technically possible to wield magic outside one¡¯s affinity, but it is slow, difficult, and impractical. It can take years to master even the most basic spells if you''re fighting against your affinity. That is why everyone sticks to their known school." He gave me a long, searching look. "But you? You''re uncharted territory. And that''s precisely why we must experiment." We walked in silence for a while, the dense trees of the Hollow gradually giving way to open terrain. The chaotic sprawl of massive trunks and twisted roots thinned out, replaced by rolling hills covered in tall, swaying grass. The sky stretched wide overhead¡ªan almost impossibly bright blue, verging on teal. Far in the distance, mountain peaks loomed, their jagged forms capped in white. The sight was staggering, a reminder of just how vast this world really was. The massive trees of the Hollow gave way to smaller, more familiar ones¡ªstill large, their canopies casting generous shade, but nowhere near the towering giants we''d left behind. The dirt path beneath our feet became less defined, transitioning into stretches of grass and scattered stones, blending seamlessly into the wild terrain ahead. I glanced around. ¡°Are we still in the Hollow?¡± ¡°No, lad,¡± Bromm said, adjusting his pack. ¡°We just crossed into the Vaelthorn Fields.¡± He gestured toward the rolling hills. ¡°Beyond those, just out of sight, you¡¯ll find some of the biggest farms in these parts¡ªmostly run by humans and tauren. The ground¡¯s rich here, good for crops, but the land¡¯s dangerous. That¡¯s why you don¡¯t see farms everywhere.¡± I frowned. ¡°Dangerous how?¡± Bromm¡¯s expression darkened slightly. ¡°The land out here is wild¡ªplenty of monsters roam free. Farms that do exist are fortified, with mercenaries or strong fences to keep threats at bay.¡± He scanned the horizon, fingers flexing against the haft of his axe. ¡°Even then, creatures occasionally break through. Attacks happen, though most are stopped before they cause much harm.¡± He kicked a loose stone off the path. ¡°This road here? It¡¯s one of the main trade routes between Mosswood Hollow and the larger towns beyond. That means merchants, supply wagons, coin-heavy caravans¡ªall tempting targets for beasts clever enough to try their luck.¡± I hadn¡¯t really thought much about logistics before, but it made sense. Zibbin couldn¡¯t exactly conjure up new wares out of thin air¡ªhe¡¯d need shipments, resupplies. The whole village would. Trade routes like this one kept places like Mosswood Hollow running. But if it was this dangerous, why were we heading straight into it? I frowned, glancing between Bromm and Veldrin. There had to be a reason, some goal at the end of this trek. Bromm wasn¡¯t arguing. That alone reassured me that wherever we were going, it was worth the risk. Bob let out a high-pitched squeal and suddenly veered off the road into the tall grass. Bromm called after him, but the massive boar wasn¡¯t having it. His stubby legs churned through the field with purpose, ignoring Bromm¡¯s commands entirely. I sighed. ¡°I guess we¡¯re following Bob now.¡± As we trailed after him, I realized his squeals weren¡¯t the same as the irritated ones he¡¯d made when the Tufftails had stolen his apple, nor the deep, rumbling warning growl he used when danger was near. This was different¡ªexcited, eager. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Bob finally stopped near a broad, sturdy tree by a steadily flowing river. The water wasn¡¯t as wide or dried-out as the old riverbank in the Hollow, but it was still impressive¡ªswift currents forming whitecaps as they tumbled over smooth stones. But Bob wasn¡¯t interested in the water. He wasted no time, jamming his tusks into the soft earth near the tree roots, digging with the sheer force of his bulk. Clumps of dirt and grass flew in every direction as he worked, his tail flicking wildly. Bromm rested a hand on his hip, watching the spectacle with mild amusement. ¡°Whatcha find, Bob?¡± Bob gave a triumphant grunt, still furiously digging, but before he could get his prize, Bromm''s eyes widened in alarm. ¡°No, Bob! Don¡¯t eat that!¡± With a strained huff, Bromm lunged forward, gripping whatever Bob had unearthed and yanking it free with a sharp tug. The thick roots resisted, but Bromm planted his boots and gave a final pull, nearly toppling backward as it finally tore loose from the ground. Bob was not pleased. His excited squeals turned into a sharp, angry whine as he looked up at Bromm with betrayed eyes, his massive head bobbing slightly as if pleading for his rightful treasure. ¡°This is far too expensive to eat, boy,¡± Bromm scolded, shaking his head. Turning to me, he held the object out in both hands. It looked like an enormous morel mushroom, its honeycomb-patterned cap stretching wide, while thick, gnarled roots still dangled from the bottom, strands of dirt clinging to them. Judging by the effort it had taken Bromm to pry it loose, those roots must have run deep. ¡°What is that?¡± I asked. Bromm gave a satisfied grin. ¡°This, lad, is a Rootspire Bulb. Worth a fair fortune to the royals. They pay through the teeth for it¡ªdelicacy, see. Hard to gather, damn near impossible to farm.¡± He gave it an approving nod, wiping some dirt off the cap. ¡°Aye, this is a good find. Bob¡¯s got a nose for more than just trouble.¡± With that, he tucked it securely into his pack. Veldrin, however, wasn¡¯t paying the slightest bit of attention. His gaze was locked on the river, fingers stroking his chin as he nodded to himself¡ªseemingly deep in some silent, intense conversation with his own thoughts. After a long moment, he turned sharply toward us. ¡°Yes¡­ yes, this spot will do. It will do just fine.¡± I blinked. ¡°For what?¡± Veldrin ignored me. ¡°Arthur, do you know how to fish?¡± I hesitated, giving him a confused look. ¡°Like¡­ with a fishing pole?¡± Veldrin scoffed. ¡°No, I meant with sheer force of will and a scathing glare. Of course with a fishing pole! How else would you catch fish? Leap in and wrestle them with your bare hands like some kind of lunatic?¡± I opened my mouth, then thought better of it. Trying to explain noodling to Veldrin seemed like a waste of breath. Instead, I just sighed. ¡°Yes, I know how to fish. Though, my world¡¯s version and yours might be vastly different.¡± Veldrin didn¡¯t seem interested in entertaining that possibility. ¡°Bromm, give him your pole.¡± Bromm reached into his pack and pulled out a small metal cylinder. With a practiced motion, he flicked a latch on the side, and the device extended into what looked like a medieval version of a modern fishing rod¡ªguides, line, and all. A small wooden reel sat at the base, crude but functional. I turned it over in my hands, impressed. ¡°Huh. This is almost identical to what I used back home.¡± I glanced up at them. ¡°Yeah¡­ I think I can actually do this. I spent a good part of my younger years fishing.¡± Veldrin pointed toward the river. ¡°Excellent. Then go catch us some fish.¡± I walked over to the water¡¯s edge, rolling my shoulders as I examined the pole. I thumbed the latch near the reel, testing the mechanism. It felt like it was magnetically held in place¡ªstiff at first but snapping back forcefully once released, keeping the line from moving freely. This was actually pretty straightforward. Simple, but effective. A familiar sense of calm settled over me as I turned my eyes to the water, watching the current roll past. Maybe this could be a new daily hobby. Fishing had always been a good way to clear my mind¡ªsomething I desperately needed right now. I glanced down at the end of the line, inspecting the lure. It was¡­ different from what I was used to. A heavy, carved bit of wood, dark brown and worn smooth, with a set of large, hooked barbs jutting from four of its corners. Feathers, stiff and faded, were tied to its base with rough twine, giving it an almost totemic look. I scraped a fingernail over the hooks and immediately felt them bite, catching effortlessly. Well, at least they were sharp. I shrugged. I wasn¡¯t here to overthink the mechanics. Right now, I just wanted to cast a line and be alone with my thoughts. The details could wait. I flicked the latch holding the line and gave the rod a firm snap forward, watching as the lure sailed through the air before splashing down near the rushing whitecaps in the center of the river. It sank quickly, disappearing beneath the surface, and I let out a breath, settling onto the grass with my legs crossed. The air was warm, but not unpleasant. A light breeze swept over the water, rolling through my hair and cooling my skin. I closed my eyes for a moment, just listening¡ªletting myself enjoy the sound of the river, the rustling leaves, the distant chirr of insects hidden in the grass. Then¡ª The line went tight. The rod bent sharply. I made a noise that could only be described as a mix between a "Yip!" and a "Yep!" Scrambling, I grabbed the rod tight and yanked back. Whatever was on the other end was heavy¡ªand it was fighting. Hard. I could feel it thrashing, twisting, trying to shake itself free. Adrenaline surged through me as I dug my heels into the dirt, bracing myself. Oh, shit. I definitely had something. ¡°Bromm! Veldrin!¡± I yelled, struggling to keep the rod steady. When I glanced back, expecting help, they were both just¡­ watching me. Veldrin had a weird grin on his face. Bromm, as always, looked completely unfazed. Stoic as ever, arms crossed, not even pretending to be concerned. Okay. Guess it¡¯s all on me then. The fight dragged on. I pulled back hard, giving slack when needed, trying to keep control. My muscles burned as I wrestled with whatever monster lurked beneath the surface. Then¡ª The line went slack. ¡°Damn,¡± I groaned, breathless. ¡°Lost it.¡± I let out a strained ughhhh, rolling my shoulders as I started reeling in the line, already dreading what kind of damage I¡¯d done to Bromm¡¯s lure. But just as I was about to retrieve it¡ª The line went tight again. No thrashing. No fight. Just dead weight. Then¡ªslack. I frowned. What the hell? I reeled in more. Again, the line caught¡ªtight¡ªonly to go slack a second later. A flicker of unease crawled up my spine. Something wasn¡¯t right. Before I could fully process what that meant¡ª The water exploded. A massive splash sent waves rolling toward the shore. I staggered back, my heart slamming into my ribs as something lurched up from the depths. And suddenly¡ªI did not want to be fishing here anymore. The thing that emerged from the river was wrong. It looked like a crab fused with a centipede, its bone-like structure shifting unnaturally around a thick, jagged carapace. A grotesque, slit-like mouth stretched across its body, lined with uneven, needle-pointed teeth. But its lower half¡ª Its lower half was worse. A mass of long, jointed tentacles thrashed against the rocks, each ending in bony, claw-like fingers, like the twisted offspring of a spider and a centipede. Holy shit. I went completely still, my brain barely keeping up with my own terror. ¡°What the hell is that?!¡± Bromm¡¯s voice rang out. ¡°Riftjaw Lurker! Be careful, they¡¯re aggressive¡ªand fast!¡± Fast? It was already moving! Veldrin, meanwhile, had the biggest, most deranged grin I¡¯d ever seen stretching across his face. "KILL IT! KILL IT!" Veldrin yelled. What the hell?! This was not fishing. This was not fishing! This was the exact opposite of fishing. I barely had time to swear before reaching for my axe and buckler, my mind racing. Damn it! If Veldrin hadn¡¯t dragged us out here at sunrise, I could¡¯ve stopped at the smithy¡ªcould¡¯ve grabbed better gear, could¡¯ve gotten new clothes that weren¡¯t covered in yesterday¡¯s blood and dirt! Too late. The thing lunged toward me, its bony tentacles whipping through the air. I tensed, raising my shield just in time¡ª THWAP. The creature latched on. Its limbs coiled around the buckler like pale, jointed ropes, using it as leverage to yank itself forward. The force ripped my stance apart, my boots slipping in the loose dirt¡ª And then I was down. Oh. My. Gods. I¡¯m going to die. The Riftjaw loomed over me, its jagged, slit-like mouth splitting wider, revealing rows of uneven needle teeth¡ª Veldrin¡¯s voice cut through my panic. "USE YOUR MAGIC! NOT YOUR AXE, YOU DOLT!" I COULD STRANGLE HIM. What magic?! He didn¡¯t know what it was! I didn¡¯t know what it was! No one knew what it was! Did he expect me to just snap my fingers and hurl a fireball like I¡¯d been doing this my whole life?! No time. The Riftjaw¡¯s limbs tightened, pinning my shield arm¡ªI roared and swung my axe.Wild. Instinctive. Desperate. I felt the impact¡ªa solid, wet thunk as the blade bit deep into its underbelly. The Riftjaw twitched, shuddering, but I didn¡¯t stop. I couldn¡¯t stop. I just kept swinging. Over and over and over. Its body jerked violently, limbs spasming around me¡ªthen suddenly¡ªSlack. The Riftjaw collapsed, a dead weight crushing down on top of me. Oh gods, it stunk! I wheezed, struggling beneath its bulk. "Get it off! Get it OFF!" Bromm and Veldrin finally moved¡ªafter standing there watching the damn show. Bromm, with a grunt, hauled the creature off me, tossing a severed limb toward Bob. Bob, utterly unbothered by the nightmarish horror of it all, gleefully grabbed the appendage and dragged it back toward the tree they¡¯d all been standing under like this was some casual afternoon entertainment. I laid there, catching my breath, glaring up at the sky. This is the worst fishing trip of my life. Before I could catch my breath, Veldrin was already there. His wild eyes bored into me, practically vibrating with frustration. "I distinctly recall instructing you to use magic." His voice was a razor¡¯s edge of disbelief. "Not brute force like¡ª" He made a vague, flailing gesture at the now very-dead Riftjaw Lurker. "¡ªlike THAT." I blinked. Still panting. Still trying to process that I had almost been eaten alive by a monster I caught while FISHING. I opened my mouth¡ªbut Veldrin was already mid-tirade. "What part of ¡®manifest your magic¡¯ did you not understand? Hmm?! Was I unclear?! Did I speak in riddles?! Did I, perhaps, forget to specify that you should attempt literally anything other than hacking away like some drunken sellsword?" I scoffed, wiping blood¡ªhopefully not my own¡ªoff my face. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry, were you expecting me to instinctively hurl fireballs? Maybe summon a hurricane? Oh wait, that¡¯s right¡ªI DON¡¯T KNOW WHAT MY MAGIC EVEN IS, VELDRIN!¡± Veldrin groaned as if I was the single most exhausting creature ever to exist. ¡°Exactly! That is precisely the problem! You hesitate! Your body¡ªyour very soul¡ªknows what it¡¯s capable of, yet when faced with mortal peril, your first instinct is to wave an axe around like some deranged lumberjack!¡± I squinted at him. ¡°¡­That¡¯s oddly specific.¡± ¡°BECAUSE I JUST WATCHED IT HAPPEN!¡± I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. ¡°I didn¡¯t exactly have time to have a spiritual awakening, Veldrin. I was a little busy not DYING.¡± ¡°EXACTLY." He clapped his hands together excitedly. "Fear. Instinct. That¡¯s the key, Arthur!" He jabbed at my forehead. "Magic doesn''t manifest from calm, methodical thought¡ªit comes from raw, primal need.¡± Bromm cleared his throat. ¡°Aye, and yet the lad survived just fine with his axe.¡± Veldrin whipped around, exasperated. ¡°Oh, well, by all means, let''s ignore that he''s a magical anomaly and keep encouraging him to hack things apart like an angry woodsman.¡± Bromm shrugged, amused. ¡°Seems to be workin¡¯ fine so far.¡± Veldrin¡¯s eye twitched. I finally managed a deep breath. This was going to be a long day. "Leave the lad be, Veldrin," Bromm grunted. "At least let him wake up properly before you start screeching about magic. Or better yet, let him eat first. Come on, lad¡ªlet¡¯s see if this Riftjaw¡¯s any good roasted. We can forage for some nuts and berries while we¡¯re at it. The plains are plentiful this time of year." I didn¡¯t even want to imagine eating that horrifying creature, let alone its appendage. What kind of hell had these two dragged me into? But my stomach had other priorities, and I found myself trudging toward where Bob had proudly deposited the Riftjaw¡¯s severed limb. Bromm had already started a fire, working with practiced efficiency. He grabbed a sturdy branch, whittled one end to a sharp point, then speared the tentacled limb, winding it around like some grotesque spiral-cut roast. As he held it over the flames, the flesh began to shrink almost instantly, curling inward with a series of wet pops and crackles. The sight alone was enough to make my appetite stage a full retreat. It just kept getting worse. Desperate for a distraction, I cleared my throat. "So, you mentioned trade caravans. Does that mean you have mounts?" Bromm gave a small nod, not taking his eyes off the roasting meat. "Oh aye, plenty. But not so much in the Hollow." I frowned. "Why not?" He snorted. "Because mounts make noise, and noise attracts the wrong kind of attention." He turned the spit with a slow, deliberate motion. "Out here, stealth keeps you alive. Bringin¡¯ a horse through the Hollow¡¯s just askin¡¯ for somethin¡¯ to come sniffin¡¯ after ya." That made sense. Bromm continued, voice casual but firm. "Now, when the trade caravans come through? Whole different story. They¡¯ve got heavy escorts¡ªmercenaries, hired blades, mages if they can afford ¡®em. But lone travelers?" He let out a dry chuckle. "No such luxury. Makes them easy pickings." Bromm nonchalantly tore a hefty chunk from the now-shriveled appendage, chewing thoughtfully before breaking into a wide grin. ¡°Hells, this is actually really good!¡± He held it out toward me. Without even thinking, I grabbed the stick. My body acted before my brain could argue, and before I knew it, I was sinking my teeth into the roasted Riftjaw. ¡­Damn. It was good. Too good. Rich, almost buttery, with a depth of flavor that tasted seasoned¡ªbut Bromm hadn¡¯t added a damn thing to it. I pulled back, blinking down at the meat in suspicion. ¡°Ugh. Too good.¡± Bromm chuckled. ¡°Aye, nature¡¯s got a way of surprising you¡± ¡°Where exactly are we heading?¡± I asked Veldrin, who had been silent up to this point, exhaled sharply. ¡°The closest farm.¡± He dusted off his coat, as if merely discussing it was offensive. ¡°A Tauren lives there. A Shaman. A ¡®speaker,¡¯ as they like to call themselves.¡± I frowned. ¡°A speaker?¡± Veldrin waved a hand in irritation. ¡°One of those spirit-touched, vision-seeing, future-mumbling, rock-stroking, tree-hugging types. Basic shaman nonsense.¡± He scoffed. ¡°A dreadful waste of magic, really, but sometimes they stumble across useful insights. Like blind rats tripping over breadcrumbs.¡± Bromm smirked but said nothing. I raised a brow. ¡°And you think this particular Shaman can help?¡± Veldrin sniffed. ¡°Doubtful. But if suffering through their cryptic ramblings gets us even a shred of useful information, I suppose I can endure it.¡± Without hesitation, he plucked the stick from my hands and tore off a massive chunk of meat, chewing with a surprisingly pleased expression. Well, at least food was something he could appreciate. Chapter 12: Smoke, Spirits, and a Scholar鈥檚 Storm Chapter 12: Smoke, Spirits, and a Scholar¡¯s Storm With our meal finished, we continued westward. The sun had nearly reached its peak, casting short shadows along the road. It had to be close to midday. As we walked, the landscape stretched wider, opening into the farmlands Veldrin had mentioned. The fields were massive¡ªfifty acres, maybe more¡ªeach dedicated to different crops. One was lined with thick, bushy stalks bearing round, purple egg-shaped fruit. Or were they vegetables? I had no idea. Another closer to the road held tall, golden hay, swaying lazily in the warm breeze. The farm itself was heavily fortified. Sturdy wooden walls enclosed the main buildings, with tall watchtowers stationed at intervals. As we neared, the activity along the walls surged. Figures scrambled into position¡ªclimbing ladders, shouting commands, shifting along the ramparts. They had seen us long before we reached the gate. By the time we arrived, the large wooden entrance groaned open, revealing the heart of the farmstead. Several well-maintained buildings stood within. The largest, an obvious farmhouse, likely belonged to the owner, while a smaller structure nearby seemed to house the workers. Two enormous storage mills loomed further back; their frames built strong against the wind. As we stepped inside, a young woman approached. She moved with the kind of confidence that spoke of someone used to being in charge, though her expression wasn¡¯t unwelcoming. "Welcome," she said simply. "I''m Endwin." She looked to be around nineteen, give or take, with neatly cut black hair that brushed just past her ears. Her attire was striking¡ªan elegant white hood and cloak draped over a black robe, its design foreign yet purposeful. The flowing layered fabric reminded me of something ceremonial, almost Japanese in style. Veldrin took the lead, introducing Bromm and me with his usual theatrical flourish before, at last, gesturing grandly to himself. "And I," he declared, "am Veldrin of the Umbral Arcanum¡ªseeker of truths, scholar of the unknown, and, most importantly, the one who has traveled far to speak with Tarak." Endwin¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. She gave a slow blink, then nodded. Without a word, she turned and led us up a worn path winding toward a structure perched at the farm¡¯s outer edge. At first glance, it looked like an oversized tent, but as we drew nearer, I realized it was far more than that. The base was reinforced with thick wooden beams, each carved with intricate patterns¡ªsymbols that wove and twisted in mesmerizing designs. Moss and vines clung to the lower half, giving the place an ancient, almost sacred feel. Bones, feathers, and trinkets of nature hung deliberately from the structure, swaying gently in the breeze. At the entrance, Endwin stopped. She didn¡¯t enter, simply gesturing for us to proceed before stepping aside. Bromm gave Bob a firm pat on the side. ¡°You stay here, boy. Don¡¯t go tearin¡¯ up their fields while we¡¯re inside.¡± Bob, too busy snuffling at the ground, gave a noncommittal grunt but didn¡¯t protest. Satisfied, Bromm followed us in. Inside the shaman''s tent, the interior was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of burning herbs and something faintly metallic. A fire blazed at the center of the room, its smoke curling upward, funneled through an opening at the top. Thick, woven rugs covered the floor, their intricate patterns faded with age but still vibrant. Veldrin wasted no time, sweeping into the room and settling himself onto one of the rugs in the middle. Then he turned a pointed stare on Bromm and me, waiting. When neither of us moved fast enough for his liking, he rolled his eyes so hard I thought they might disappear into his skull. ¡°So particular with their shaman theatrics,¡± he muttered under his breath. Then, louder: ¡°Come on, come on! Sit already! Or are we meant to stand here in reverent awe like slack-jawed tourists?¡± A deep, rumbling chuckle echoed from just beyond the firelight, carrying the weight of something ancient. The ground beneath us seemed to tremble with it. Then, stepping forward, a towering figure emerged¡ªa bull standing upright on two legs. No. Not just a bull. A Tauren. He was enormous, easily nine feet tall, his sheer presence filling the space. Towering, curved horns framed his head, each carved with intricate symbols and adorned with trinkets¡ªfeathers, beads, and small charms that swayed gently with his movements. Some were wrapped in thin strips of leather, while others bore signs of age, polished smooth by time and ritual. He wore a heavy robe of thick, well-worn hide, its surface etched with carvings of mountains, animals, and flowing rivers. Moss clung to the edges, woven between bones, feathers, and other natural relics, as if the very essence of the wild had claimed him. In his hand, he gripped an imposing staff, its top crowned with enormous feathers, the wood etched with the same ancient symbols as the totem structure outside. His gaze settled on Veldrin...Deep, unreadable. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. When he spoke, his voice was like distant thunder rolling over the plains. ¡°I am Tarak Wildbrand¡­ and I see you seek my wisdom, Veldrin.¡± Veldrin scoffed, flicking a hand through the air as if brushing away an unnecessary formality. ¡°Yes, yes, let¡¯s dispense with the grand introductions, shall we? You¡¯re an ancient seer of great wisdom, I¡¯m a brilliant scholar burdened with too many questions.. Now, if we can forgo the theatrical posturing, I have need of that so-called wisdom of yours.¡± Without waiting for permission, Veldrin launched into the story, recounting the events surrounding the Aetherstone and its abnormal reaction. I considered interrupting...maybe asking if this guy was actually trustworthy¡ªbut seeing as Veldrin was spilling everything without hesitation, I figured that question had already been answered. As Veldrin spoke, Tarak¡¯s eyes widened, his massive head tilting at each revelation. He had a habit of nodding slowly, occasionally rumbling out deep sounds of acknowledgment¡ªgrunts, hums, even the occasional single-word mutterings I couldn¡¯t quite catch. Maybe that was just a mage thing here. Veldrin finished his explanation with a flourish. ¡°So we have come to you, in the hope that you can provide insight into how to manifest his magic.¡± Tarak studied me for a long moment. Then, at last, he nodded. ¡°Yes¡­ I believe I can help. Give me a moment.¡± He moved deliberately, retrieving a thick log and placing it onto the fire. The flames hungrily devoured the fresh fuel, sending dense smoke curling into the air. Then, gripping his staff, Tarak struck its base against the ground. Once. Twice. The rhythmic thud of wood against earth matched the steady beat of his hoof. The air shifted. A breeze stirred within the enclosed space, brushing against my skin from all directions. It carried the scent of charred wood and something older...Something primal. The fire¡¯s smoke warped unnaturally, twisting as if something unseen was shaping it. Tarak¡¯s gaze sharpened, reflecting the flickering firelight. He leaned in, his deep voice a low, rumbling whisper that seemed to vibrate through my chest. ¡°The winds speak of something waiting to awaken. They whisper of a force buried deep, an ember yet unlit. Such power is reluctant; it does not heed commands or rituals.¡± He straightened, his presence towering yet grounded. ¡°The spirits know your name, Arthur. But only you can teach them to speak it.¡± And just as quickly as they came, the winds died down, the sensation of envelopment slipping away like a dream upon waking. For a moment, all was still. The smoke from the fire settled, no longer twisting in unseen currents, and the air returned to its ordinary, weightless state. Then¡ª "Wonderful," Veldrin scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He threw up his hands, turning sharply on his heel. "Brilliant. Fantastic. A truly profound revelation, Tarak. We have learned¡ª" he made an exaggerated flourish, "absolutely nothing that we didn¡¯t already know thirty bloody minutes ago!" He spun back toward the Tauren, eyes alight with barely restrained irritation. "¡®Power slumbers within you, Arthur. You must be the spark. The spirits know your name¡¯¡ª" He waved his hands dramatically, mimicking Tarak¡¯s deep voice with mock reverence. "Yes, yes, all very mystical and poetic, but perhaps you could provide something actually useful? Preferably in a language that doesn¡¯t sound like it was plucked from the back of a dusty prophecy scroll?" Bromm let out a deep chuckle but wisely stayed quiet. Tarak, for his part, did not react immediately. He merely blinked slowly, his massive frame still as a boulder. Then, with all the patience of someone who had endured far worse than Veldrin, he tilted his head slightly. "Did you expect the spirits to hand you a neatly written instruction manual?" The words barely left Tarak¡¯s mouth before Veldrin exploded into a tirade so fast and vicious it was like watching a caged animal finally let loose. His hands flew into the air, pacing furiously in tight circles as he unleashed a rapid-fire string of scathing insults, obscure academic jargon, and words so convoluted I was fairly certain they weren¡¯t even real. Something about "intellectual starvation," the "inherent uselessness of riddles disguised as wisdom," and, at one point, I was pretty sure he called Tarak a "sentient boulder with a penchant for vague half-truths." For five full minutes, Veldrin ranted, gesticulating wildly, muttering to himself, circling back for another round, then sighing dramatically like he¡¯d aged ten years from sheer disappointment. Tarak, for his part, remained utterly unmoved. He merely blinked slowly, watching Veldrin¡¯s theatrics with the same calm patience one might give to a particularly noisy storm, knowing it would pass. Eventually¡­mercifully, Veldrin spun on his heel and stormed toward the exit. "Come!" he snapped, sweeping his coat with a flourish. "Half the day wasted on shamanistic drivel! We should return to the Hollow and plan our next course of action properly, like civilized beings, not through vague whisperings and fireside riddles." Bromm, who had been watching the entire spectacle with thinly veiled amusement, let out a low chuckle as he stepped out after Veldrin. "Y¡¯know, for someone who claims to hate ¡®riddles,¡¯ ya sure do talk in a lot of circles, Veldrin." Veldrin shot him a venomous glare. Bromm just grinned, gave a sharp whistle, and Bob snorted in response, a happy, guttural sound as he fell into step behind us. Endwin stood by the gate as we passed, bowing slightly before giving a casual wave. As we walked out, I found myself glancing back at the farm¡¯s fortifications. They really weren¡¯t kidding, this place was built more like a stronghold than a simple homestead. Then again, considering the dangers out here, I supposed it had to be. We didn¡¯t have any reason to linger. There was no shop or merchant to browse, no reason to restock supplies. And after Veldrin¡¯s tirade, I had the distinct feeling our welcome wouldn¡¯t have lasted much longer. Tauren seemed like the patient sort¡­ but even they must have limits. We set off eastward, back toward the Hollow. The journey was quiet at first, but Bromm soon broke the silence by pulling me aside whenever we passed a patch of wild growth, pointing out clusters of berries and nuts nestled within the foliage. Some were for eating, others for alchemy or medicine. He¡¯d grab a few, toss them my way, and name them off like a walking field guide, his hands always busy sorting, testing, or showing me which plants to avoid. Vaelthorn Fields was rich in natural resources, far more than the Hollow, at least in terms of quantity. The Hollow had its fair share, sure, but this place? This place was abundant. Every few steps, there was something new to pocket. By the time we neared the tree line, my pack was noticeably heavier. The open, rolling hills gradually gave way to dense woodland, the landscape shifting as towering trees pressed in around us. The golden light of the fields faded, swallowed by the thick canopy overhead, casting everything in deeper, shadowed hues. The air changed, cooler, quieter, the distant hum of the plains replaced by the rustling of unseen creatures moving through the undergrowth. I took in the awe-inspiring surroundings, but the stillness was short-lived. A low, guttural growl rumbled from Bob. His ears twitched, nostrils flaring as he stared intently ahead. Chapter 13: The Party Forms Chapter 13: The Party Forms The Frog Leg Inn was exactly how we¡¯d left it. As we walked into the center of town, the lanterns outside bathed the Hollow in a soft orange-red glow, casting long shadows across the forested village. It almost looked haunted, but in a cozy, storybook kind of way. The closer we got, the clearer the tavern¡¯s soundtrack became¡ªfaint music, raucous laughter, the clatter of mugs and voices raised in joy or argument. Bromm had split off, muttering something about seeing what Zibbin might offer for the Rootspire Bulb Bob had sniffed out like a truffle pig with a treasure map. That left me and Veldrin heading toward the inn. As we approached the door, Veldrin leaned in with a sly grin. ¡°Now watch closely,¡± he said. ¡°Observe how effortlessly I persuade our dear Elunara to join us. A masterclass in recruitment.¡± Then he strutted inside, picked a table and dropped into a seat like he owned the place. Elunara caught sight of us, waved, and held up a single finger¡ªwait¡ªbefore disappearing through the kitchen door. Veldrin cleared his throat dramatically just as she returned. ¡°Elunara,¡± he began, leaning forward like he was about to unveil a secret. ¡°How long has it been since you used your magic for something other than seasoning stew?¡± She stopped mid-step, raised a brow, and crossed her arms. ¡°You know exactly how long it¡¯s been,¡± she said flatly. Veldrin hesitated, just for a heartbeat¡ªlong enough to betray that he did, in fact, know. Then, with a breath and a flick of his wrist, he slipped back into his usual bravado. ¡°Ah. Right. Yes. Time, like my brilliant insights, moves ever forward.¡± He cleared his throat and straightened his coat. ¡°But this isn¡¯t about reliving the past, it¡¯s about aiding the present. Young Arthur here finds himself on the cusp of his potential, and we,¡± he gestured grandly, ¡°are assembling a party to help him realize it. A dungeon, Elunara. At the mention of the word dungeon, Elunara''s expression shifted in an instant. She bit her lower lip, her gaze drifting upward¡ªnot in annoyance or exasperation, but in thought. Maybe memory. There was a flicker of something behind her eyes. Nostalgia? Anticipation? I didn¡¯t have to dwell on it long, she looked excited. Genuinely. Before she could respond, the door swung open behind us. Bromm stepped in, shaking off a bit of dust from his boots. Just as the door began to shut, I caught a glimpse of Bob trotting away outside, looking smug with a whole apple clamped in his mouth. Elunara glanced at Bromm, then gave a small smile. She rapped her index knuckle once on the table and turned, disappearing into the kitchen. Bromm dropped into the seat beside me, a wide grin on his face. ¡°Old Zibbin was real excited to take that Rootspire bulb off me. Drinks are on me tonight!¡± That was something I could toast to. As if summoned by the thought, Elunara returned¡ªbread in one hand, a plate of tankards balanced in the other. She set them down on the table with practiced ease before slipping into the seat beside Veldrin. ¡°Veldrin tells me you¡¯re all going delving?¡± she asked, her tone casual but her eyes sharp. Bromm snorted. ¡°Aye¡­¡± She turned slightly toward him. ¡°And you¡¯re going too?¡± Bromm exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t be too wise to leave Arthur here alone with Veldrin, now would it? So aye... I¡¯m goin¡¯.¡± A big smile spread across Elunara¡¯s face. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back,¡± she said quickly, getting up and heading toward the kitchen again. I tore off a piece of bread and took a long gulp of my drink. Bromm and Veldrin followed suit. They immediately fell into bickering., Veldrin demanding to know how much the Rootspire Bulb sold for, and Bromm refusing to tell him just to be difficult. I let their voices fade into the background as I looked around the room¡ªleft, then right. Taking it all in. Dungeons. Parties. Treasures. A grin crept across my face. This wasn¡¯t how I pictured the afterlife¡­ but I couldn¡¯t be happier. There was so much potential here. So many different paths I could take. And for the first time since arriving, I knew exactly what I wanted. All I had to do was survive long enough to build something real. Adventuring. Exploring dungeons, hunting treasure, battling monsters... That¡¯s what I wanted. But also¡­ so much more. Surviving wasn¡¯t enough. I needed to train¡ªget stronger, faster, smarter. If I wanted to thrive in this world, I¡¯d need to sharpen myself against the things that lurked in its shadows. And what better place to do that... than a dungeon? Elunara came hurrying back, apron gone. She slid into the seat beside Veldrin, still smirking like a kid in a candy store. ¡°I¡¯m in,¡± she said. We all let out a cheer. I raised my tankard with a grin. The others looked at me for a heartbeat¡ªthen, one by one, they raised theirs too. The tankards clinked together, foam spilling over at the contact. ¡°To a new life of adventuring!¡± I said, unable to keep the grin off my face. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. ¡°To adventuring!¡± they echoed, voices loud and full of promise. We made our plan then and there. At first light, we¡¯d set out¡ªbut not before a stop at Haldrek¡¯s to get me some proper gear. My current outfit was little more than torn linen and dried blood at this point, hardly fit for an adventurer-in-training. While we discussed the route and what we might face, Veldrin made a point of retelling our Riftjaw Lurker encounter in excruciating detail, mostly to highlight just how pathetic I¡¯d looked during it. Apparently, it was absolutely essential that Elunara knew I had ¡°flopped about like a stunned rabbit.¡± But as the laughter faded, Veldrin¡¯s tone shifted. He spoke of the real dangers ahead, collapsed tunnels, ancient traps still primed after centuries, monsters that had made the ruins their home. This wasn¡¯t like brawling with a few gnolls in the wild. This was different. One wrong step, and my adventuring career would end before it ever began. And yet¡­ I wasn¡¯t shaken. This, right here, sitting in a warm inn with tankards raised and allies at my side, this was the life I wanted. So no. I wouldn¡¯t hesitate. Wouldn¡¯t run. Because I was going to make damn sure my first dungeon wouldn¡¯t be my last. After a few more drinks¡ªand a round of Ferowen¡ªwe each turned in for the night, one by one. I hauled myself up the stairs of the inn, the wood creaking beneath my feet, a pleasant warmth buzzing through me. Tomorrow, we set out. Adventuring. I was still grinning. Dungeons¡­" I shook my head, half in disbelief, half in wonder.This is my life now. My head hit the pillow, and darkness took me. My mind began to settle. Then¡ª POP. My eyes shot open. I sighed. At the end of my bed, perched like a goblin on caffeine, was the imp. ¡°Your very first dungeon!¡± he said gleefully, grinning ear to ear, his needle-like teeth stretching far too wide for his face. He sat cross-legged, fist under his chin, resting his head sideways in an exaggerated pose of mock thoughtfulness. ¡°Old Veldrin¡¯s gonna get you killed,¡± the imp cackled. ¡°All these scholars think they know best, but no one asks me nothin¡¯! And I¡¯ve been around since¡­ well, time itself!¡± I pursed my lips. ¡°So you¡¯d help me, then? Are you saying you know what my magic is? Or if I even have any?¡± The imp¡¯s eyes fluttered dramatically, head tilting even farther to the side as he rubbed his stomach like he¡¯d just eaten something satisfying. ¡°Oh, this is delicious,¡± he purred. ¡°You really don¡¯t have any idea, do you? Man, this must be torture for you!¡± He burst into laughter again, kicking his legs as he reclined in midair, like the world''s most annoying bedtime demon. ¡°I tell you what,¡± he said, grinning ear to ear, ¡°you get old Veldrin to pull me outta this phase-shift¡ªhe¡¯s been scribblin¡¯ away at it, I know, and I¡¯ll tell you whatever you want to know.¡± He wiggled his eyebrows. ¡°Secrets, power, even the stuff Veldrin¡¯s too scared to look into. All yours. Just gotta do one little favor.¡± He let the word one drag out, thick with implication. There were plenty of things I didn¡¯t know here in Selion, but one thing felt certain¡ªmaking a deal with a demon imp was probably a terrible idea. I didn¡¯t have to rely on him. Honestly, things had been falling into place well enough without his help. I might not be an expert at anything here yet, but I was still alive, and that had to count for something. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to Veldrin,¡± I said. ¡°Get his opinion.¡± The imp visibly deflated, shoulders slumping like a popped balloon. But he recovered quickly, pasting on a half-hearted grin. ¡°Oh, right¡ªof course, of course... Wouldn¡¯t expect anything else,¡± he said, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. Then¡ªpop¡ªhe vanished. He had a way of phasing in at the worst possible moments, only to disappear when it suited him best. That was... interesting. I couldn''t help but wonder how random this phase-shift really was. Or if it was random at all. Time dragged on. No matter how many times I adjusted my position, how tightly I wrapped the blanket around me, or how hard I tried to focus on breathing slow and deep, rest refused to come. The encounter with the imp had left me uneasy. Knowing he was always there, in some way, lurking, watching, listening, put my nerves on edge. And the way he spoke, like he wanted something from me, left a weight on my chest I couldn¡¯t shake. Like I was never truly alone, even when no one else was around. I gave up on sleep. Instead, I threw on my bloodied linen shirt and pants, still stiff in places from dried muck and old wounds, and stepped out into the quiet darkness of the Hollow. The moon hung high, bright as ever, casting a pale, eerie glow across the village. It wasn¡¯t enough to make out distant shapes in detail, but it lit the paths well enough to know where you were going. It was never truly dark here, not even beneath the towering canopy. Even without the moonlight, the Hollow had its own strange glow. Bioluminescent plants pulsed faintly across the forest floor and clung to the lower trunks, their colors shifting in purples and blues like living lanterns. Tiny fungi blinked like stars in the underbrush. Out here, the night didn¡¯t feel empty¡ªit felt alive. Once again, I didn¡¯t travel far. Just far enough to be out of sight, so I wouldn¡¯t look like a complete jackass if anyone happened to glance my way. Like before, I drew my axe. And I swung. Again and again. I moved through different patterns, different angles, trying to find a rhythm that made sense. That felt right. The swings were clean¡ªtrue, just as Bromm had described. But something was missing. Some part of me felt¡­ off-balance. Exposed. Maybe it was the Riftjaw encounter still rattling around in my head, but I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that I didn¡¯t want to rely on a short weapon like this anymore. Not exclusively. I needed reach. Something that gave me room to breathe in a fight. Something that could keep danger at a distance¡ªbuy me time where my lack of experience couldn¡¯t. I sliced the air a few more times. Then¡ª A scream. High-pitched. Frantic. A woman? A child? I didn¡¯t wait to find out. I bolted toward the sound, crashing through the trees and underbrush, heart pounding. When I reached the spot, nothing. Just quiet woods. Then¡ªa rustle in the brush. I raised my buckler, axe high, every muscle coiled. Another rustle, closer now. Twigs snapped. And then it burst out. A creature, not a person. It looked like a fox... if a fox had been mashed together with a rabbit. It was long and lean like a fox, but its tail was just a fluffy puff, like a rabbit¡¯s. Its fur shimmered in hues of white and deep violet, the colors swirling in mesmerizing patterns that seemed to move on their own, like flowing water. It let out another high-pitched cry, the same scream I¡¯d heard before, and darted off into the woods. I lowered my axe, exhaling a breath I didn¡¯t realize I¡¯d been holding. ¡°Seriously?¡± I muttered, rubbing my face. ¡°Screaming fox-rabbits.¡± I shook my head. I didn¡¯t quite know what I was expecting¡­ but it sure wasn¡¯t that. Still, I was glad that¡¯s all it was. My heart was still pounding, but the rush was fading. Time to head back to the Frog Leg. We had adventuring to do in the morning. The walk back felt quieter than before, like the woods were giving me a moment of peace before the storm. When I reached the inn, it was still. No persistent imp. No strange noises. Just the soft creak of the floorboards, the familiar shape of my pack near the window, and my bed waiting for me. Tomorrow, we go explore a dungeon. Chapter 14: Gearing Up, Stepping Out Chapter 14: Gearing Up, Stepping Out BANG BANG BANG! The pounding on the door nearly sent me to the next afterlife with yet another heart attack. I jolted upright and squinted toward the window. No golden sunbeams breaking through the glass¡ªjust the dull, bluish-gray of pre-dawn mist clinging to the trees outside. Still too early. ¡°Arthur! Are you not awake yet? We are going to be leaving soon!¡± A voice I hadn¡¯t expected came muffled through the door. Elunara? ¡°Just a minute! I¡¯m almost ready!¡± I called out, already scrambling. With a sigh, I pulled on¡ªhopefully for the last time¡ªthe same ripped, bloodied linen shirt and pants I¡¯d been wearing since the Riftjaw incident. First stop this morning: shopping. New clothes, proper gear, and if I had any say in it, a weapon with more reach. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and opened the door. Elunara was waiting in the hallway. She looked different¡ªno apron, no tavern-bound wear. Instead, she wore a flowing green robe trimmed with gold accents. Her silver-blue chain still rested elegantly across her forehead, but now her presence felt entirely¡­ different. Regal, even. In her right hand, she held a staff¡ªgnarled wood twisted upward into spiraling curves that wrapped around themselves like a living sculpture. The top arched inward in a perfect loop, forming a delicate archway. At its center floated a glowing green light, pulsing gently with a rhythm like a heartbeat. Faint waves of energy rippled from it¡ªsubtle, but unmistakably there. ¡°The rest are waiting downstairs. Let¡¯s go!¡± she said, unable to hide the excitement in her voice. Her steps were light but fast as she descended, the occasional clack of her staff tapping the wall echoing behind her. I followed¡ªnot quite as enthusiastically. I still wasn¡¯t used to being yanked from sleep by frantic knocking and declarations of urgency. Hell of a way to wake someone up. I chuckled under my breath as I stepped off the final stair onto the inn¡¯s main floor. Veldrin and Bromm were already in the center of the tavern. I glanced to the left and spotted Bob outside through the window, laying on his side in the grass and chomping through an apple like he hadn¡¯t eaten in days. ¡°Arthur! Come-come,¡± Veldrin called, waving me over. ¡°Do not stand there like some half-soused stable boy caught sniffing noble perfume. We¡¯ve got a dungeon to prepare for!¡± ¡°Half... what?¡± I muttered stupidly, the insult sailing well over my head. I made my way to the table where parchment and ink had been laid out. There were three distinct circles marked on the map. I leaned closer¡ªThe Hollow, Vaelthorn Fields... two of the circles were placed within the Hollow itself, the third in the nearby fields. No other locations were labeled. No clues beyond that. Veldrin tapped one of the circles with the end of his quill, smirking like a man revealing the final act of a play only he understood. ¡°We¡¯ll begin with the closest known ruin within the Hollow,¡± Veldrin declared, his voice brimming with dramatic weight. ¡°Now, Arthur¡ªgo shed those bloodied peasant bedsheets and find something resembling adventuring attire!¡± As I turned to leave, Elunara called after me, promising to have food ready by the time I got back. Just the thought of it made my stomach twist¡ªI was starving. I stepped out of the Frog Leg, the morning air crisp against my skin as I made my way toward Zibbin¡¯s shop. As I approached, I spotted the broom still sweeping away, this time diligently tidying the doorstep entirely on its own. When I got closer, it casually shifted aside without missing a beat, giving me just enough space to slip past and enter. Inside, the shop was its usual brand of organized chaos¡ªshelves crammed with trinkets, enchanted tools, and bizarre contraptions, most of which I still hadn¡¯t figured out the purpose of. Zibbin was exactly where I expected him: perched behind the counter, his magical quill scribbling away on a floating parchment, the ink gliding smoothly across the page without his hands ever moving. I strolled up and greeted him. ¡°Morning, Zibbin. I¡¯m in the market for some new clothes.¡± ¡°We got clothes,¡± he replied without looking up. ¡°Not much left in stock¡ªexpectin¡¯ a supply wagon any day now.¡± He pointed to a rack to my left. I moved over to dig through the selection. After some rummaging, I settled on a white linen short-sleeved shirt, a blue-and-brown long-sleeved overshirt, and a sturdy pair of brown linen pants. I grabbed a light brown cloak, a new pair of boots, and a larger backpack¡ªfinally, something that wouldn¡¯t feel like it was about to split at the seams. I carried the haul to the counter. ¡°That¡¯s all for now,¡± I said, placing a few gold pieces down. Zibbin gave a curt nod as I placed the coin down, and with a flick of his finger, the items lifted gently off the counter and hovered midair beside me. ¡°Changing area¡¯s in the back,¡± he said, not looking up from his work. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. I gave a quick thanks, grabbed the floating bundle, and headed toward the curtained corner of the shop. The space was small, but clean enough. I peeled off my bloodstained rags¡ªhopefully for the last time¡ªand pulled on the new clothes one layer at a time. They fit surprisingly well. When I stepped back out into the shop, I caught a glimpse of myself in a smudged wall mirror. Finally, I looked like someone ready for an adventure¡ªnot a half-dead scavenger. Outfitted at last, with my old rags packed away and new boots hitting the dirt, I stepped back into the Hollow¡¯s morning light. Next stop¡ªthe smithy. As I stepped inside, the sharp clang of metal on metal rang through the air. Haldrek was at work, hammering away at something on his forge, though his sheer massive frame blocked my view. Near the front desk sat a sturdy iron bell with a chain. I gave it a ring. Haldrek paused mid-swing, turned slightly, and waved a thick, soot-covered hand. He held up a single finger¡ª¡®just a second¡¯¡ªbefore landing a few final, forceful strikes. Then, satisfied, he set his tools aside and made his way over. ¡°Hello, Arthur. Come to upgrade?¡± he rumbled. I chuckled. ¡°Yeah¡­ I think I need something with a little more reach.¡± Haldrek stroked his beard, considering my request, then turned toward his wall of weapons. I watched as he sifted through an array of hanging metals¡ªsome unfinished, others shaped into tools, axes, and farming implements. I didn¡¯t see many swords, and the ones I did looked too worn and weathered to be of much use in a fight. There was one though that caught my eye, and it must have caught Haldrek¡¯s too. After a moment, Haldrek grabbed a few items from the back wall and returned, laying them out on the counter. A set of daggers and the sword. ¡°This is what I¡¯ve got ready to sell,¡± he admitted with a slight frown. ¡°Supply wagons should be here soon, but right now? I¡¯m at my lowest stock. Not much to choose from, I¡¯m afraid.¡± I picked up the sword, testing its weight. It felt right¡ªbalanced, solid, a steady extension of my arm. The blade stretched three and a half feet, double-edged and tapering to a vicious point, gleaming with promise. The hilt was plain¡ªunadorned metal wrapped in worn leather¡ªbut built for function, not show. I swung it once, imagining the Riftjaw¡¯s tentacles lashing out. This time, I¡¯d have kept that thing at bay¡ªno more scrambling under its weight, pinned and flailing. The daggers were simpler¡ªslim, sharp, no crossguard¡ªbut well-made. A solid backup if things got close again. ¡°I¡¯ll take the lot, thanks!¡± I said, sliding the coins across the counter. With my new gear, I was down more than half my gold. Not ideal, but I didn¡¯t care. My mind was already elsewhere¡ªDungeons. As I stepped out of Haldrek¡¯s, there they were, gathered in the center of the Hollow, Bromm, Elunara, Bob, and Veldrin. Each of them looked different, outfitted in gear I hadn¡¯t seen them wear before. Bromm stood tall in a rugged leather ensemble reinforced with riveted plates. The armor bore blue and gold accents, subtle but striking, matching the trim on Elunara¡¯s robes. His usual musket was slung over his shoulder, and his axes hung at his sides, secured in a heavy leather belt. Pouches lined his waist, worn from use but well-kept. Even Bob looked ready for war. The massive boar was kitted out in segmented armor, disks of metal strapped across his legs, back, and face like some kind of porcine juggernaut. Not a full set, but enough to make him look like he meant business. Veldrin, of course, looked like a hedge wizard straight out of a fever dream. He wore a layered robe of deep brown feathers that swayed with every movement, and in his hand was a crooked staff, less a mage¡¯s wand and more a walking stick someone forgot to sand down. Compared to Elunara¡¯s elegant staff, his looked like it had been stolen from an angry tree. Elunara looked exactly as she had in the hallway, when she¡¯d nearly murdered me with a wake-up call¡ªgreen robes trimmed in gold, her usual chain glinting across her forehead, staff still glowing faintly with that pulsing green light. Veldrin¡¯s eyes fell on the new sword strapped across my back that I had angled just above the buckler, positioned for a clean draw of either. He gave a low hum, tilting his head like he was inspecting a painting he didn¡¯t quite understand. ¡°A fine choice,¡± he mused. ¡°Far better than an axe when it comes to Boglins¡ªnasty little things, hate clean steel.¡± Then his expression shifted, eyes narrowing in mock puzzlement. ¡°But do tell me, Arthur¡­ why spend gold on steel when the entire point of this expedition is to manifest your magic?¡± He leaned slightly forward, head tilting the other way now, like a curious owl. ¡°Or is the plan to stab your way into a magical awakening?¡± ¡°¡ªBoglins?¡± I asked, clearly having missed the last part of Veldrin¡¯s rant. His head whipped around like I¡¯d just insulted his lineage. ¡°Elunara, I fear young Arthur¡¯s gone daft. Perhaps a bite of that divine breakfast might jolt his senses back into place?¡± He turned back to me, wagging a finger. ¡°Do try to keep up, dear boy.¡± Elunara withdrew her pack and pulled out a thick slice of bread, placing it gently into my open palm. ¡°Hold still,¡± she said, adjusting her grip on her staff. She hovered it just above the bread. The pulsing green energy at its center began to glow a touch brighter, faint waves of warmth radiating outward. At first, nothing happened. But then¡ªI felt it. A subtle vibration. Soft, like the hum of distant music in my bones. The bread in my hand began to warm, gently rising in temperature until it was like holding something fresh out of an oven. Its crust softened, the whole thing growing lighter, airier. ¡°Oh wow,¡± I breathed, eyes widening. Elunara chuckled. ¡°That isn¡¯t even the best part. Go on¡ªtry it.¡± I didn¡¯t wait for her to finish. The bread was in my mouth before she could blink. It was incredible. The nutty flavors were rich and vibrant, and the bread itself¡ªsoft, warm, and impossibly light, almost melted on my tongue. But it wasn¡¯t just the taste. I could feel it working through me. My stomach felt full almost instantly, but not heavy. I felt¡­ sharper. Lighter on my feet. More awake. ¡°Comes with a few benefits,¡± Elunara said with a wink. She had definitely imbued it with magic¡ªand now that it was working through my system, I could feel just how much more than food it really was. Uplifting, energizing. This wasn¡¯t just breakfast. This was a spell you could eat. Bromm grunted and spoke up next, tone a bit more serious. ¡°Boglins. Aye... that¡¯s what¡¯s said to haunt the old ruins we¡¯re headed for. Nasty little blighters.¡± He scratched his beard, frowning slightly. ¡°They look like bloated corpses that washed ashore after floatin¡¯ a month in a swamp¡ªskin like blue leather, bellies all puffed up, and covered in warts and weepin¡¯ pustules.¡± He made a sour face, clearly remembering something unpleasant. ¡°They move strange too. All hunched over and twitchy. Like a rat tryin¡¯ to walk upright. Don¡¯t let the size fool ya, they¡¯re quick when they want to be. And mean.¡± Veldrin waved a hand dismissively. ¡°Yes-yes, Boglins. So terribly fearsome, I¡¯m quaking in my boots.¡± He leaned in toward me with a smirk. ¡°They also just so happen to be the weakest monsters in all the nearby ruins. So unless you¡¯d prefer we start you off with a lich or two, you¡¯ll have to make do, dear Arthur.¡± He paused, grin widening. ¡°Do try to hold your bladder until we¡¯ve at least left the village. It¡¯s terribly awkward explaining that sort of thing to passing villagers.¡± Bob let out a grunt that, somehow, sounded like amusement. Elunara gave a short, dismissive laugh. ¡°Are we going to stand around all morning, or are we actually going delving today?¡± Out of everyone, she seemed the least composed, practically bouncing in place. Honestly, I was starting to think she¡¯d take off at a dead sprint and leave the rest of us in the dust. One last deep breath, and we were on our way. Chapter 15: Forest of Flesh and Bone Chapter 15: Forest of Flesh and Bone We set off westward toward the Vaelthorn Fields, five of us now, with full packs, fresh gear, and one boar in makeshift armor trotting proudly beside us. The world felt alive in that quiet, early way. Insects hummed in the tall grass. Birds chirped their morning songs from hidden branches. The rustling of tufftails echoed above, their furry bodies darting between limbs like nervous squirrels on a sugar rush. Bob, ever vigilant, kept his eyes trained on the canopy. He watched them with all the solemn focus of a guard on duty, snorting softly each time one scurried too close overhead. His ears twitched at every sound, every shift in the trees. It wasn¡¯t long into our journey that the forest¡¯s calm gave way to something else, something darker. A low, guttural growl rumbled from Bob¡¯s throat, deep and sharp like a warning bell. He stopped dead in his tracks, hackles rising. Not even a heartbeat later, the underbrush to our left exploded. Wither Ghouls. They burst from the foliage in a frenzy of motion, twisted things that looked like corpses halfway claimed by the forest. Their limbs were grotesque, formed from gnarled bone and bark, fused in ways that defied anatomy. One dragged what might have once been a leg, now replaced by a thick root spiraling into the dirt with every lurching step. Plant tendrils erupted from their torsos, writhing like sentient worms, slick with sap and bile. They snapped blindly at the air, wriggling through the gaps in the ghoul¡¯s decaying flesh as if the forest itself had decided to puppeteer the dead. Each movement came with a wet, dragging sound, a squelch of moss and meat. It was like watching a nightmare claw its way into the waking world. Bromm fired first, his musket roaring with a thunderous crack. The shot tore clean through the closest ghoul, shearing off half its torso in an explosion of rot and splinters. The thing didn¡¯t die, though. It twitched violently, then paused, its head lolling to the side, before slowly, erratically, dragging itself forward again. It dragged itself forward like a marionette mid-collapse, twitching, flailing, but still moving with purpose Beside me, Veldrin had already begun casting. The air around his outstretched palm shimmered and flexed, glowing with pulsing waves of red light. Energy gathered, crackling around his fingers like coiled lightning. But he never got the chance to finish. A sharp crack rang out as the ground beneath the ghouls fractured, splitting like ice under pressure, as though the forest had reached its breaking point. Vines erupted upward from the tear, thick and barbed, lashing around the nearest undead with terrifying speed. The ghouls shrieked, their voices hollow and unnatural as the vines coiled tighter, winding around their limbs, throats, and torsos. The tendrils moved like living things. Not wild. Not aimless. Angry. In moments, the ghouls were swallowed whole in living prisons of thorns. Then¡ªone by one¡ªthey imploded. The vines didn¡¯t constrict. They pulled inward, collapsing the bodies with a sickening crunch. Rotting flesh and bone burst from the pressure, spraying blackened gore and fibrous pulp in every direction. What remained of the ghouls was unrecognizable¡ªjust oozing clumps of twisted plant matter where monsters had stood only seconds before. A moment of stunned silence followed. Then the vines retracted, melting back into the cracked earth, as though the forest was cleaning up after itself. Bromm, Veldrin and I looked back, even Bob.. And saw Elunara standing there with a huge smile on her face ¡°My word.. Elunara¡± Veldrin began ¡°Nature, Elunara, is meant to nurture, not puree the opposition.¡± Elunara rolled her eyes, shooting him a look sharp enough to prune a hedge. Veldrin gave a startled blink, as if her glare had physically struck him, then quickly straightened and turned to me with renewed theatrical flair. ¡°So, Arthur¡­¡± he said, drawing out the words as he gestured wildly with both hands, like a conductor waiting for his soloist. ¡°Do try to remember why we¡¯re out here¡­ to¡ª¡± He mimed pulling something from the air, coaxing the answer from me. ¡°To manifest your magic!¡± Before I could respond, Elunara cut in, tone sharp like a mother scolding her child. ¡°Oh, give it a rest, Veldrin. He¡¯s not going to learn magic by you shouting it at him, you should know better.¡± Bromm, ever efficient, cracked a few teeth from the fallen ghouls and tucked them into a pouch without a word. Then, we were off again. The path ahead felt different, heavier somehow. The forest no longer felt like a quiet observer, but something watching us from all sides. The deeper we went, the more unwelcome it felt. Before I could guess how far we¡¯d come, we left the path and veered into the forest proper. The towering trees blotted out the sun entirely, casting the world in perpetual twilight. The underbrush thickened, and with it came the telltale glow of bioluminescent flora. Tiny flickers of purples and greens dotted the foliage. I kept my eyes peeled for Glimmergill¡ªone, two, three¡­ I¡¯d found a dozen in less than what I would guess was twenty minutes. They were everywhere. As we pressed deeper, Bromm called me over with a short wave, an all-too-familiar gesture by now. His knife was drawn and pointed at a strange-looking plant near the base of a tree. The stem was a dark, almost black green, and the flower cap hadn¡¯t bloomed. It hung downward, heavy and ominous. ¡°Widow Root,¡± he said simply. ¡°Makes a foul poison, slow paralysis if it gets into your blood.¡± He glanced at me, then continued, ¡°Make sure you harvest it from the base. The petals release the toxin when touched, wet, sticky stuff, so keep your blade under it and squeeze the bulb.¡± This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Bromm slid his knife beneath the drooping flower cap and gave the base a firm pinch. A thick, dark ichor oozed out, running slowly down the blade. It clung like syrup at first, then began to harden, turning tacky and resin-like, almost like tree sap. Within seconds, a faint, glistening film of poison coated the metal. He held it up for me to see. ¡°Stays potent for a bit, but don¡¯t expect it to last forever. Works best fresh. There¡¯s a patch here, so go on, harvest a few.¡± He pointed toward the nearby cluster of drooping plants. ¡°When you pack ¡¯em, lay the petals facing upward. Last thing you want is that sap leaking onto your gear.¡± I harvested a half-dozen and stacked them neatly in my pack before we moved on, heading deeper into the forest. Elunara¡¯s staff began to pulse faintly as she walked. I couldn¡¯t tell what she was doing, but it was clear she was channeling something. Whatever it was, it didn¡¯t slow her down, she moved through the dense flora with effortless grace, as if the forest itself made way for her. Then, without a sound, a small purple owl, no bigger than my outstretched hand, fluttered down and perched on her shoulder. It had tiny antlers and unusually small eyes for an owl, giving it a strange, otherworldly charm. Elunara turned her head and whispered something to it, though I couldn¡¯t make out the words. A moment later, the owl gave a single hoot and took off into the canopy, disappearing into the glowing foliage above. ¡°Did you just talk to that bird?¡± I asked, still trying to process what I¡¯d seen. Elunara glanced back at me, her expression calm. ¡°Yes. The ruins we¡¯re heading to haven¡¯t been explored in quite some time. The forest¡¯s reclaimed most of it, which makes it difficult to spot¡­¡± She paused, then smiled faintly. ¡°But not so difficult that the sons and daughters of the forest can¡¯t find it.¡± Now that was cool. Magic in this world seemed almost boundless. Between Veldrin and Elunara, I was already neck-deep in things I barely understood. It was overwhelming, but I was here. Right now. Still, it was hard to come to terms with it all. Back on Earth, magic didn¡¯t exist. It was fiction, fantasy. But here? Here, it was real. Tangible. And I wanted to understand it. I needed to. Whatever that thing was I felt when I tried mimicking Veldrin¡¯s casting there was something there. But I didn¡¯t have time to dwell on it. A low, guttural growl broke through the stillness, snapping me back to the present. Bob was frozen, his body stiff, hackles raised, feet planted firm like he was bracing for an earthquake. Then¡ª Whispers. Not natural ones. Not wind, not birds, not voices. These sounded wrong¡ªslick, oily, like something whispered through teeth that didn¡¯t belong in any sane mouth. The ground trembled beneath our boots. A massive shape tore through the brush ahead, exploding from the undergrowth in a chaos of snapping branches and flung debris. ¡°BONE-TANGLE!¡± Bromm roared. The creature convulsed as it moved, its entire mass twitching like it was stuck in its own death throes, spasming, pulsing, vibrating with every lurching step. At first, I couldn¡¯t make sense of it. But the longer I stared, the more it came into focus. It wasn¡¯t a single creature. It was many. A massive, heaving mound of Wither Ghouls, flesh, bone, and rotting vines all twisted together into one abominable mass. Limbs jutted out at unnatural angles. Decayed fleshed faces, some still twitching, stared blankly from within the tangled horror, half-buried in the shifting mass. And despite its size, it moved with the same erratic, stuttering motion as a single Wither Ghoul¡­ just magnified. A walking corpse-storm. A nightmare stitched together by madness. Elunara raised her staff and cast again, those writhing vines from before shot forward, but this time, the mass didn¡¯t even slow. The creature tore through them like wet paper, snapping them apart before they could tighten. It surged toward us, a thunderous lurch of rotting limbs and bone. For something so bloated and mangled, it was fast. Each step slammed into the ground like a battering ram, sending tremors through the earth beneath our feet. Veldrin, still mid-channel, stood firm, arms raised, eyes wide, lips moving in sharp, ancient syllables. Just as the creature loomed closer, he completed the spell with a sudden twist and flourish. A blazing arc of red-orange energy ripped through the air toward the beast. It struck. And for a moment, it seemed to fizzle, just a hiss of steam and sizzling flesh. But then the spell melted into the creature¡¯s mass, like lava poured into rotted clay. The Bone-Tangle groaned, a wet whistling sound resonated from its core, and its entire form began to shift. Bubble. Swell. Veins of glowing red traced through its flesh like molten rivers, pulsing brighter, brighter¡ª Then it exploded. A thunderous crack split the air, and the creature burst apart, spraying twisted, shrieking Wither Ghouls in every direction like shrapnel made of flesh and bone. Limbs flew. Screams rang. The earth shook under the sudden rain of undead. I ducked just in time to avoid what I think was half a spine. Veldrin blinked once. Then said flatly, ¡°Oops.¡± Just one word. But it echoed in my skull like a funeral bell. No time to think. We ran. Elunara took point, her staff blazing with light as she led us through an ever-twisting labyrinth of trees. Behind us, a wave of twitching Wither Ghouls poured through the shattered woods, flesh and bone animated by madness, semi-sentient, relentless. I spun, raising my shield just in time to catch one lunging from behind. Steel met rotted meat with a sickening crunch. I drove my blade forward, skewering it through the chest, then turned to bash another away with the rim of my shield. There were too many. As chaotic and uncoordinated as they were, sheer numbers were tipping the scale. All it would take was one lucky swipe, one stumble, and the rest would bury us. Elunara suddenly veered right, ducking beneath a low-hanging branch. Overhead, the familiar hoot of her owl echoed through the trees, frantic, panicked, and repeating. Ahead of us, something began to rise out of the forest floor, a mound, but not entirely organic. Stone jutted through the moss and roots, shaped by hands long gone. It wasn¡¯t just a hill¡­ it was a ruin. The owl swooped ahead and landed on what remained of a ledge, hooting furiously as it flapped its wings. I could just make out the outline of an entrance, an arched gap beneath crumbled stonework. A tower, once. Grand, maybe even imposing in its time. Now, it looked more like a forgotten tomb. ¡°GET IN!¡± Veldrin bellowed. We didn¡¯t need to be told twice. One by one, we scrambled through the archway. I was the last to reach it, nearly tripping over my own feet as I ducked inside. Just as I crossed the threshold, Veldrin let loose his spell. A surge of raw energy blasted past my face, searing the air with a roaring streak of heat and color. The force of it nearly knocked me flat. I stumbled forward and landed hard on my stomach, skidding across stone and dust. Behind me, the entrance exploded in light and sound. The archway, and what was left of the tower¡¯s roof, collapsed in on itself, a rain of debris sealing us inside. Rubble crashed down, choking off the light, the sound, the shrieks of the ghouls. Stone ground against stone. Then¡­ silence. Well, almost silence. I could still hear the wet, slapping sound of limbs battering at the blocked entry. The ghouls were trying to squeeze through what little space remained, but the ruin held fast. There was no way they were getting in. But then the realization hit me. How the hell were we getting out? I pushed myself upright, brushing dirt from my new clothes with a groan, then shot Veldrin a look sharp enough to cut steel. He stood nearby, rubbing the back of his head, trying his best to look innocent¡ªand failing miserably. ¡°We made it,¡± Elunara said, her voice calm despite the chaos we¡¯d just escaped. I turned to face the interior of the ruin. The base of the tower stretched wider than I expected, ancient stone walls wrapped in moss and decay, with old roots clutching the corners like skeletal fingers. But what caught my attention was what lay in the center. A staircase. It didn¡¯t spiral upward toward some lookout or mage¡¯s perch. It led down. This was it. My first dungeon. Chapter 16: What Lurks Below Chapter 16: What Lurks Below We swept the base of the ruined tower, checking corners, cracks, and under collapsed beams, anywhere something useful might¡¯ve been overlooked. But it was bare. Stripped clean. If there was ever anything of value here, it was long gone. Bob snorted nearby, his snout buried in a collapsed pile of stone and moss. He pawed at the ground, rooting around for anything edible, or maybe just interesting, but even he seemed to come up empty. With a disappointed grunt, he gave the rubble one last shove and trotted back to our side. Elunara¡¯s staff glowed with a steady green light, soft but penetrating, casting a faint shimmer across the stones as she approached the stairwell. It wasn¡¯t bright, not like a torch, but it carried weight, a presence that pushed gently against the dark. The light clung to the moss-covered stone, revealing slick patches of moisture and long-forgotten cracks in the masonry. Shadows stretched and shifted as she moved, not fleeing but bending aside. One by one, we followed her down, our boots echoing faintly on the worn stone. Even Bob¡¯s thudding steps softened. The air thickened, colder, wetter, and laced with the scent of forgotten places. Behind us, danger clawed at the rubble. Ahead, it waited in silence. I spoke up, voice low but sharp. ¡°What the hell was that thing?¡± Veldrin flicked a bit of dirt from his sleeve, his expression distant. ¡°It was an abomination,¡± he said. ¡°A tangle of flesh and nature, brought sentient by foul mana. Corruption looms heavy in the Hollow¡­¡± As we passed the bend of the stone spiral staircase, the entrance above slipped out of sight. The descent had officially begun. Bromm drew his axe, letting Veldrin¡¯s warning about corrupted mana hang in the air, unanswered. That was signal enough for me. I pulled free my sword and slipped my arm through the buckler¡¯s straps, the quiet scrape of metal against leather sounding far too loud in the stillness. Bromm took the lead, moving ahead of Elunara now. He ran one hand along the stone wall, fingers brushing over patches of dry dirt and moss as if feeling for something. Then he froze. His wrist twisted, hand turning palm-up. In the soft glow of Elunara¡¯s staff-light, I saw it¡­Something thin and taut caught across his skin. A rope, maybe a trapline? No more than an inch thick. It had been buried in the grime, nearly invisible until now. It was definitely not a trap, because after inspecting it for just a moment Bromm yanked the rope hard, shaking off dirt all along the wall as far as I could see, it also descended all the way down it looked like. ¡°Scout line,¡± Bromm muttered, giving it a tug. then glanced back at me. ¡°This means someone¡¯s mapped this dungeon before. Been a while, though.¡± Elunara grinned. ¡°Hopefully long enough for some monsters to hoard new treasure.¡± Looking at her, you wouldn''t suspect she was even phased by any of the events leading up to where we find ourselves now. We¡¯d descended at least fifty feet before the staircase finally leveled out, leading into a rounded corridor. Even with Elunara¡¯s staff casting its faint green light, visibility was poor¡­Maybe ten feet ahead at best, and even that was hazy. The hall narrowed and curved, but whatever lay ahead was swallowed by shadow, the details too faint to make sense of.. ¡°What is this place?¡± I asked, my voice low. Bromm answered without looking back. ¡°Old human watchtower. This here¡¯s the storage level¡ªgoes back hundreds of years, back when all Selion knew was war.¡± He waved a hand toward the dark ahead. ¡°This part? War cellar. Doubled as a barracks and armory. If there''s anything left, it''ll be supplies¡­ or what¡¯s left of ¡®em¡­¡± He paused, then added with a grunt, ¡°If we¡¯re lucky.¡± ¡°But do try not to forget why we¡¯re here¡­¡± came Veldrin¡¯s voice, far too close. I flinched. I hadn¡¯t even heard him move, but there he was, suddenly at my shoulder, his breath practically brushing my ear. ¡°Our goal, dear Arthur,¡± he whispered, tone dripping with condescension, ¡°¡­isn¡¯t scavenged trinkets or the rusted ghosts of forgotten wars. It¡¯s you.¡± I threw my hands up, gesturing around wildly. ¡°But why here? Couldn¡¯t we just train back in the village?¡± Veldrin let out a pompous laugh, theatrical and far too pleased with himself. ¡°Oh, I suppose you wouldn¡¯t understand¡­ Dungeons like this aren¡¯t just filled with treasure and beasts¡­They¡¯re steeped in wild, untamed mana. Chaotic. Old. Forgotten.¡± He stepped lightly through the gloom, gesturing as he spoke. ¡°Mana, it turns out, is not so different from mortals¡­ It is corruptible. Twisted by bloodshed and horror.¡± He paused, eyes scanning the darkness ahead. ¡°During the great wars, where atrocities soaked Selion, the mana didn¡¯t fade, it changed. Became unstable. It clings to places like this, festering beneath the surface¡­ and when left to rot, it draws in monsters¡­And other, darker things.¡± As we moved deeper, the hallway widened slightly, and we came upon a jagged hole in the wall¡ªwhat looked like the remains of a collapsed storage room. Elunara stepped forward, her staff held high. She lowered it toward the opening, and soft green light spilled inside, casting faint, rippling shadows over broken shelves and debris. At first glance, it looked empty. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. But then the light caught something. In the far wall, a large vertical crack split the stone, narrow but just wide enough to glimpse the room beyond, and something stared back. A single eye. Then¡ªit blinked. A wet, gurgling shriek tore through the crack like a dying breath dragged through waterlogged lungs. I felt it before I saw it¡ªmovement, fast and furious, crashing through the ruin with murderous intent. And then it came into view. Just as Bromm had described¡ªskin like slick, blue leather stretched over a bloated frame. Its swollen belly bounced with each step, pustules and warts rippling as it charged. Oozing sores wept down its sides, and its limbs jerked like something half-drowned and half-feral. This was a Boglin. And it was coming straight for me. In that moment, I was very thankful I had a sword and not my small bearded axe. I did not want this thing getting anywhere near me. With instinct kicking in, I raised my shield just in time. The Boglin slammed into it with a downward blow, snarling. It wasn¡¯t tall, maybe chest height, five feet at most, but it hit like a battering ram. The impact nearly drove me to a knee, my boots scraping stone as I braced. I gritted my teeth and shoved back, regaining balance. I couldn¡¯t take another hit like that standing still. I¡¯d have to roll, keep moving, use its weight and momentum against it. Throw it off balance. I lashed out with a downward strike, burying the blade into its shoulder, it wailed another wet shriek, but this time.. It was met by many more.. The Boglin, snarling through the pain, lunged forward in a final, desperate charge. It came straight for my center, but the wound had slowed it. Just enough. I sidestepped at the last second, raising my shield to deflect its swing as it stumbled past. It overcommitted, and I didn¡¯t hesitate. I turned and drove my blade through its back, a fatal blow. For a moment, I breathed. Just a moment. A spark of light streaked past my face, Veldrin¡¯s magic, hot and sharp. The glow lit up the darkness for the briefest second. And in that flash, I saw it. I had made a mistake. I¡¯d let my guard down. Another Boglin was already in a dead sprint toward me, no more than a few feet away. The one behind it took Veldrin¡¯s spell square to the face and dropped instantly¡ªjust gone in a burst of light and gore. It barreled into me with its full weight, slamming me to the ground. The impact knocked the air from my lungs. Before I could recover, it was on top of me. Claws like rusted knives tore into my arm as I raised it to shield myself, instinct, not strategy. Pain flared. It shrieked, foul breath blasting across my face as it snapped and clawed. ¡°GET OFF OF ME!¡± I roared, shoving my feet up under its gut. With every ounce of strength, I kicked. The Boglin flew backward, crashing into the stone wall with a meaty slam. It stirred, still alive¡­But not fast enough. I was already on my feet, closing the gap. One hard thrust drove my blade through its chest, pinning it there. The blow sent it back into the wall again, stone cracking and caving with the force. Dust rained down. It didn¡¯t get back up. I yanked my sword free and stepped back, refusing to drop my guard this time. Across the room, Bob was already mid-charge¡ªtwo hundred pounds of armored pig barreling into another Boglin. The impact shattered its legs, sending it into a wild spiral through the air. It barely hit the ground before Bromm was there, axe coming down hard into the back of its head. Elunara appeared beside me, her presence a sudden wave of calm. I felt the warmth of her magic wrap around me, like sunlight through a storm. The pain in my arm dulled, numbed by her spell¡¯s touch. Bromm and Bob cleared the last two, the gurgling screams gave way to silent darkness once again. As I caught my breath, a new thought settled in¡­ I felt nothing. Veldrin spoke of dungeons like they were alive with wild, chaotic mana¡ªdangerous, corrupt, pulsing with power. But here? I didn¡¯t feel anything. No strange hum. No spark of recognition. No magic bubbling up inside me, begging to be unleashed. I guess I¡¯d been hoping for something more. Something obvious. Prominent. Instant. But there was nothing. And at this rate, I was going to end up dead before I ever figured it out. Still¡­ I wasn¡¯t ready to give up. We searched the room where the Boglins had come from. It was bare. Dust clung to the walls. A single stone desk was carved directly into the wall, long abandoned. At the far end, a narrow window looked out into nothing¡­Just clay and compacted dirt pressed up against the outside like the world itself had moved on without this place. Bromm returned to the wall, the tether once again in his palm. He gave it a small tug, watching the slack shift. ¡°Well,¡± he muttered, ¡°guess that was it. Nothin¡¯ here. Scout line just loops back¡ªcrosses the far wall and heads out again.¡± Veldrin let out a long, theatrical sigh¡­ and Elunara echoed it with one of her own, though hers felt far less dramatic. We headed back out¡ªno treasure, no manifestation, no miracle. Just danger. And nothing to show for it. I¡¯d hoped for something dramatic¡ªsome wild awakening in the heat of battle, powers flaring to life at the last possible second. Instead? Just torn-up clothes and a sword now stained in gore. We started toward the stairs. ¡°What¡¯s the plan for getting out of¡ª¡± I didn¡¯t finish the sentence. As I stepped past the small crater left by the Boglin I¡¯d flung into the wall, something caught my attention. A breeze¡ªfaint, but unmistakable¡ªbrushed against my skin. I stopped. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I asked instead, turning toward the collapsed stone. Elunara was already moving, staff in hand, inspecting the crater with glowing focus. ¡°There¡¯s something behind this wall,¡± she said, tapping the edge with the end of her staff. Bromm stepped up without hesitation and drove a heavy boot into the weakened stone. It gave way with a dull crash, crumbling inward and sending dust swirling through the air. Behind it, a tunnel stretched forward, narrow, uneven, and swallowed in shadow. It curved along the outer wall of the structure, rough stone lining its sides, untouched by time or torch. The air that drifted out was cooler, damper. Bromm squeezed his stocky frame partway into the passage with a few unhappy grunts, one hand steadying himself against the wall. He ran his palm along the stonework, inspecting the texture, the seams. ¡°No scout line,¡± he muttered. ¡°This hasn¡¯t been mapped. Whatever¡¯s down here, we¡¯ll be the first to see it.¡± He backed out and turned, a glint in his eye. ¡°You know what that means.¡± Elunara practically vibrated where she stood, her staff bouncing in her grip. She looked like she might sprint into the tunnel before the rest of us could blink. Then, with barely contained excitement, she grinned and said¡ª ¡°Treasure.¡± We entered the tunnel, falling into line behind Bromm, with Elunara close behind him, her staff casting soft light ahead. The passage sloped downward almost immediately, and I felt the shift in gravity tug at my legs, we were heading deep, fast. The stone floor beneath us gradually gave way to loose dirt and scattered pebbles. First just patches. Then more. Until the walls themselves changed¡­Less carved stone, more clay and compacted earth. Rough, natural. Untouched. The change was so gradual, it was almost unnoticeable. One step we were in the remnants of a ruined tower, the next¡­ we weren¡¯t. We had entered an underground cavern now, definitely not part of the original structure. Giant roots snaked along the walls and ceiling, weaving like tangled nerves, all of them unmistakably connected to the colossal trees above. We followed the path in silence. The deeper we went, the more the cave revealed itself, its natural formation becoming clearer. The walls were slick with moisture, and stalagmites jutted from the ground in growing numbers. Until¡ª A deep, mucous-laced gurgle echoed through the cavern. Louder¡­ Heavier¡­ Different then any we heard so far. Then came the shrieks¡ªwet, guttural, and familiar. Bromm stopped and turned, his face grim. In a low, serious tone, he muttered., ¡°Brood-Queen.¡± Chapter 17: The Queen鈥檚 Nest Chapter 17: The Queen¡¯s Nest The air reeked of stale, oily water, the kind that carried the sour tang of dead fish long before you ever got close. The Boglins had a murky, muddy scent to them¡­ but this? This was fouler. Thicker. Like rot and bile had seeped into the stone itself and festered. As we moved deeper into the cavern, the environment twisted¡ªbecame alive in the worst way. Giant, coral-like fungus clung to the walls, swaying gently despite the still air. There was no draft, no breeze. They moved on their own. Sickly shades of yellow and off-white pulsed along their fleshy stalks, as if they were breathing. The stone floor grew uneven, narrowing in places as we stepped between clusters of jagged stalagmites. Flowstone draped from the ceiling in thick sheets, forming grotesque, natural archways that loomed overhead like ribs in a buried beast. ¡°What¡¯s¡­ a Brood-Queen?¡± I asked. Bromm grunted, eyes fixed ahead. ¡°Nasty things,¡± he said. ¡°Skin¡¯s like the Boglins, blue, bloated, all warts and weepin¡¯ pus, but that¡¯s where the similarities end.¡± He shifted his grip on his axe, voice low. ¡°They¡¯re bigger. Twice the size of the ones we¡¯ve seen so far. Got these big, bulbous eyes and a tongue like a snake. But the worst part¡¯s the crown.¡± He pointed to a nearby cluster of fungus, swaying coral-like. ¡°Looks like that. Grows right outta her head. It ain¡¯t just for show either, it pumps out some kind o¡¯ pheromone the males go mad for.. Makes ''em crazed. Loyal. Suicidal.¡± He turned slightly, gaze dark. ¡°Those Boglins back in the war cellar? Bet my boots they were tryin¡¯ to get down here. Tryin¡¯ to reach her.¡± Veldrin chimed in smoothly, like a man who¡¯d been waiting for the perfect moment to make his point. ¡°A Brood-Queen¡¯s crown,¡± he mused, ¡°is quite valuable in the right hands.¡± He stepped forward, the dim glow catching the edge of his grin. ¡°Alchemists can distill it into all sorts of things, fury potions, for one. Send a sellsword into a blind rage. Or, if one knows the proper methods¡­¡± his eyes narrowed with wicked amusement. ¡°¡­a control draught. It radiates an aura of dominance, causing lesser creatures to grow docile. Even submissive. Perfect for beast tamers like our dear Bromm.¡± He glanced down at Bob, who grunted obliviously. Then, with absolute certainty, Veldrin turned to the group. ¡°We must acquire the crown.¡± Judging by Elunara¡¯s expression, she hadn¡¯t heard a word past valuable. Her eyes practically sparkled. ¡°They¡¯re also known to hoard treasure,¡± she added, grinning. ¡°The Boglins bring it to her, trying to win her favor.¡± Another deep, mucous-choked scream echoed through the cavern. It wasn¡¯t just loud, it was unsettling. Like someone drowning on dry land, gasping through their final, panicked seconds. It sent a chill crawling down my spine. The more we walked, the more the walls grew slick with moisture, the air thicker, heavier. Water pooled in uneven patches along the ground, mixing with dirt and rot into a sludgy, treacherous mess. Every step squelched or slipped. Without Elunara¡¯s light, we¡¯d be blind down here. That orb of glowing green hovering in her staff was the only thing cutting through the dark. I kept glancing at it, praying there wasn¡¯t some awful way it could go out. Because if it did¡­ we¡¯d be completely screwed. A noise snapped behind us movement¡­too quick. I spun, just in time to catch a glimpse of movement in the dark. It was a Boglin. But unlike the ones we¡¯d fought above, this one wasn¡¯t lurching upright on its legs¡ªit was crawling, skittering through the mud like a twisted insect. Its limbs worked in frantic tandem, dragging its bloated frame forward with unnatural speed. ¡°Ambush!¡± Bromm shouted. ¡°They¡¯re faster in the mud!¡± I looked around, and my stomach dropped. The entire floor was mud. A second later, the puddles around us exploded. Mud and water flew in every direction as Boglins burst forth, erupting from the ground like a trap sprung all at once. Dozens of them. A nest. We were in a nest. Chaos broke loose. I scrambled back, pushing through the slop to meet the crawler head-on¡ªguarding the rear, where most of them were flooding in from. I raised my shield just in time to deflect its claws. Of course the only one with a shield was me. Shit. This was going to get ugly fast. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. A Boglin crashed into my shield, and the mud gave way beneath my boots, no traction, just a slow, helpless slide backward. I gritted my teeth, bracing for impact¡ª But then Bob slammed into the fray beside me, tusks goring through the legs of the Boglins with brutal force. The pressure on my shield eased just enough to regain my footing. I kept it raised, stabbing wildly over and around its edge. The defense didn¡¯t hold as well as I¡¯d hoped. Claws raked my arm, tearing through fabric and skin. Warm blood soaked into my sleeve. And this was just the start of the frenzy. The first two Boglins dropped, but five more surged toward me. We had some luck, though¡ªwhile they had the numbers, their frenzied aggression worked against them. They jostled, shoved, even clawed at each other trying to get close, a snarling tangle of limbs and teeth. It was like they were fighting each other as much as us. A terrifying thought struck me¡ªthey weren¡¯t just trying to kill us. They were competing. We were the prize. A gift for the Queen. The idea had barely formed before a spike of pain lanced up my leg. I looked down, one of the bastards had latched onto my calf, jaws buried deep, eyes wild. I roared and brought my sword down in a savage arc, nearly cleaving its head clean off. The weight of its body dropped away, but the damage was done. My leg buckled, stance faltering¡ª Then, warmth flooded through me. A soft glow wrapped around my chest, radiating outward. Elunara. My muscles surged with renewed strength, pain dulled beneath the spell¡¯s embrace, and I forced myself upright, shield raised, ready for the next assault. Then, from my right, a blazing arc of fire whipped through the air, slashing across two of the Boglins. I glanced back. Veldrin stood poised, one hand outstretched, the other gripping what looked like a rope made of flame, twisting, alive, and crackling like dry leaves in a furnace. The strike landed with a sound like thunder, the fiery lash trailing ash in its wake. Both Boglins dropped instantly, their flesh hissing and bubbling as if molten rock had been poured into them. Their wounds still glowed¡ªembers eating them from the inside out. Bob and I pushed forward, driving into the remaining three. An axe buried itself into the nearest one, dropping it instantly. The other two stumbled, thrown off by the sudden loss of momentum, and that was all we needed. Bob slammed into one with a guttural squeal, and I finished the last with a clean thrust. I looked up, panting. Bromm. He¡¯d already cleared the front line. By my count, he and Veldrin had taken down six¡ªno¡­ five. One of them had been sliced clean in half by Veldrin¡¯s spell. I yanked Bromm¡¯s axe from the Boglin¡¯s skull with a wet squelch and handed it back to him. ¡°Are Boglins¡­ worth anything?¡± I asked awkwardly, still not fully sure what parts of what creatures were actually useful. Seemed like alchemy had a use for just about everything we¡¯d fought so far. ¡°Not worth diddly,¡± Bromm muttered, wiping the gore from his axe with a look of pure disgust. Then he gave me a short nod. ¡°You handled yourself well.¡± Veldrin glanced over, smirking. ¡°Yes¡­ it would seem we¡¯ve found ourselves a new front-liner.¡± He turned fully, that damned grin still tugging at his lips. ¡°Front and center, dear Arthur. It¡¯s time you made a proper impression.¡± Seeing as I was the only one with a shield, I didn¡¯t argue. I took the lead. Elunara¡¯s staff stayed close behind, its soft glow radiating warmth against my back. The light pushed forward, cutting a narrow path through the gloom. The ground grew worse with each step. Mud climbed past my ankles, thick and clinging. Every step came with resistance, followed by a wet, sucking noise as I pulled free. It was slow going, and not getting any better. We needed to get out of this muck soon. The path narrowed, forcing us into a tighter formation. My shaky breaths echoed off the stone, loud in the silence. More gurgling screams rippled through the air¡ªcloser now, louder. We were heading in the right direction. That much was obvious. Bob started grunting with effort as he dragged himself through the thick muck, but finally¡ªjust as quickly as it had swallowed us, the deep mud gave way to firmer ground. The slope tilted upward, only slightly, but enough for gravity to pull the worst of the muck behind us. The footing steadied. The air cleared¡ªjust a little. The screams, however, didn¡¯t fade. If anything, they grew louder. The path widened and veered left. Around the bend, I heard rustling. I raised a hand, signaling the group to stop. Whatever was making that noise¡­ I wanted a look before it noticed us. Hopefully the soft glow of Elunara¡¯s staff wasn¡¯t giving me away as I crept forward. I eased around the corner and saw them¡ªtwo Boglins, hunched and twitching, fighting over a wooden cup. They snapped at each other, snarling, their muck-slick hands fumbling with the thing like it was some priceless relic. Neither of them could get a good grip, their slick bodies squelching as they slipped and shoved for dominance. Bromm came up behind me, quiet as can be¡ªI hadn¡¯t even heard him approach. He eyed the scene, then leaned in close, his voice low and steady. ¡°Best we take ¡¯em out quiet. Last thing we need¡¯s one of those slimy bastards soundin¡¯ off and bringin¡¯ the whole damned brood down on us.¡± I nodded. ¡°How do we go about that?¡± I whispered. Bromm unsheathed his axe quietly ¡°Only way we can¡ªaxe, and dagger. On three.¡± I grabbed one of my daggers, heart thudding as Bromm counted under his breath. ¡°One¡­¡± ¡°Two¡­¡± Three never came. A piercing shriek tore through the cavern¡ªtoo close. Right on top of us. I froze. And then I saw it. The Boglin Brood-Queen. She was massive¡ªfar larger than described. Not just double the size of a Boglin. She towered over them. Her jaw alone looked big enough to swallow my entire torso in one bite. Something hung from it like a beard¡ªbut it wasn¡¯t hair. Skin. Flayed and layered. A necklace of trinkets and junk rattled with every twitch¡ªbones, bent rings, scraps of cloth and metal. Her ears were wide and leathery, shaped almost like bat wings, twitching at every sound. And crowning her head was a jagged, coral-like bone growth¡ªjust as Bromm described. The Brood-Queen snatched the wooden cup from the squabbling Boglins, letting out a wet, hissing noise, the fleshy, beard-like tendrils hanging from her neck flailed wildly, writhing like agitated snakes. Then, with a sudden, violent swipe, she crushed one of the Boglins beneath her clawed hand¡ªbone and muck bursting like overripe fruit. The other Boglin froze. And then, as luck would have it, it bolted¡ªskittering straight toward us. It rounded the corner¡ªjust close enough to see us. Just close enough to die. Bromm¡¯s axe was already in motion, a blur of steel arcing down from above. The Boglin had only enough time to see its killer before the blade struck home, cleaving straight through its head with a wet crack. It collapsed in a twitching heap at our feet. But our luck didn¡¯t hold. The sound of the kill echoed too far. Too loud. And the Brood-Queen heard it. A low, rumbling screech pierced the air, followed by thunderous steps that shook the ground beneath us. Getting louder. Closer. She was coming. And by the sounds of it, she wasn¡¯t alone. We were beset on both sides before we even knew it. I braced myself, planting my feet in the mud, shield raised just beyond the bend¡ªwaiting for the impact. Behind us came more shrieks, higher-pitched, frantic¡ªfollowed by the sickening wet flop-flop-flop of charging Boglins, their feet slapping through the muck as they closed in fast. Chapter 18: Crownbreaker Chapter 18: Crownbreaker They closed the distance. In a flash, a wave of Boglins surged around the bend¡ªsnarling, clawing, frenzied. I stood my ground, shield raised, and took the brunt of the charge. This time, at least, my boots found purchase on solid stone instead of slick mud. It didn¡¯t make their impact any easier to bear. They were fast. Strong. Crazed. Even planted as I was, I staggered under the force. And just like before, they weren¡¯t just attacking us¡ªthey were snapping at each other, gnashing and clawing in a frenzy, lost in a pheromone-fueled madness. This wasn¡¯t a fight. It was a war of attrition. And they had the numbers. I counted at least four in front of me¡ªmaybe more, just beyond the edge of Elunara¡¯s light. Bob and I held the firm, his tusks tearing into anything that got too close. We focused on the front, hacking and slamming in a brutal rhythm. There was no time to think. No time to breathe. Just hold. Just survive. Then¡ªheat. Behind me, a sudden glow lit up the cavern in violent flashes of orange and red. A towering wall of flame surged from the stone, roaring like a beast unchained. The light spilled forward, catching the Boglins in front of me in stark relief¡ªglinting off their slick skin, casting our shadows long and twisted across the walls. But the Boglins didn¡¯t stop. They threw themselves at it anyway...Screaming, driven by some suicidal compulsion. One broke through the fire, its outline a shuddering smear of heat and agony. It staggered forward, clawing at the air before collapsing into a smoldering husk curling in on itself, the stench of roasted flesh slicing through the rot. And still, the ones in front didn¡¯t relent. Claws tore at my shield. Teeth snapped inches from my face. A few swipes found purchase, forcing me to recoil¡ªjust a moment, just enough to leave a gap. One slipped through, lunging past me, barreling straight for Elunara. I shouted¡ªsomething loud, and incoherent. A warning that did not make any true words, just noise. But Bromm was already there. His axe came down in a clean arc, carving through the Boglin¡¯s midsection and dropping it in a heap before it could take another step. ¡°Push forward!¡± he roared. With the party¡¯s focus locked ahead, Bromm at my side and Bob barreling through anything in his path, we pressed forward, driving the Boglins back. Together, we pushed hard¡ªBromm¡¯s axe, Bob¡¯s tusks, and my sword and shield carving a brutal path through the chaos. We rounded the bend¡ªand there she was. The Brood-Queen. She loomed in the tunnel like a swollen toad, grotesque and immovable. The crown on her head throbbed with a low, pulsing vibration. That was my focus. If we could take it out, maybe the Boglins¡¯ suicidal rage would break with it. She held her ground. Behind her, more Boglins poured into the tunnel, a writhing, endless stream of bodies. I didn¡¯t know how long Veldrin¡¯s fire wall would hold. All I knew was, we didn¡¯t have time to sit around and find out We closed the distance. Bromm and Bob broke off just far enough to intercept the Boglins trying to get around her, holding the flanks while I stepped up to face the Queen directly. She filled the passage like a living blockade, every movement slow but deliberate, like a predator sizing up prey. Her crown vibrated violently, the sound now a dull hum in my chest. I didn¡¯t know what to expect. I¡¯d never fought something this big before, not like this. But I planted my feet, raised my shield, and locked eyes with her. Then she moved. A massive claw came crashing down. I didn¡¯t dare try to block it, if it landed, it would shatter my shield and likely my arm with it. I dodged instead, heart pounding, boots skidding across the stone. She was slow, but damn, she was strong. Each swing of her limbs came with the weight of a collapsing wall. I was faster, but every breath came harder, faster. My lungs burned. My arms ached. Behind me, the screams of Boglins still echoed, but Veldrin¡¯s fire held. The tunnel behind was still lit with roaring flame. Then Elunara moved, her staff glowing bright, and vines erupted from the walls and floor, thick and fast, wrapping around the Queen¡¯s limbs. Her fists were locked mid-slam, restrained in place. For a moment, I thought we had her. Veldrin struck next. That damned whip of his lashed out again, cracking across her side. It hit deep. The stench of burning rot filled the chamber, so sharp it made my stomach turn. The Queen shrieked¡ªa gurgling, furious bellow, and snapped the vines like thread. Then things got worse. She vomited. Not just once. Not like a creature retching from pain. This was deliberate. A heaving, grotesque flood that spilled across the stone in a wave of bile and filth, coating the floor in thick, viscous slime. And the Boglins¡ªthey used it. They threw themselves into it like it was mud, skittering and sliding with sickening ease. It made them faster. More erratic. We were losing footing. I was losing footing. My boots skidded with every shift. No traction. No stability. I stabbed at the Queen, driving my sword up into her gut with everything I had, but she didn¡¯t even flinch. Not a blink. Not a grunt. I yanked at the blade, struggling to free it from the thick mass of her flesh. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. And then¡­ she looked at me. Her eyes, those sickly yellow, snake-like slits, narrowed. She lowered herself, pressing her bloated form into the bile-slick floor. And that¡¯s when I realized¡­ it wasn¡¯t just the Boglins who thrived in this muck. Without warning, she spun¡ªan unnatural, violent rotation that whipped her entire body around. A full 360 degrees. I was flung backward like a ragdoll, Bob and Bromm tossed with me, crashing into the wet stone. She slithered forward. Fast. Her body undulated in jerking, rhythmic waves, like a slug on speed, like a monstrous eel weaving through filth. She wasn¡¯t trying to smash us anymore. She was hunting. Her massive jaws snapped at the air as she advanced, each bite a thunderous crack of bone on bone, like a gator mid-kill. She was faster now. My shield wouldn¡¯t help, there was no time to raise it, and even if I did, she¡¯d swallow it whole¡­ along with my entire torso. I was already on my ass, pinned against the wall, too slow to react. This was it. This was how it ended. I had just started to figure things out, started making plans, trying to accept this world as my new life. I was finally ready to live. But now? Now I was about to be bitten in half by a filth-covered monstrosity. Then¡ª A feeling. Faint. Familiar. Flickering at the edge of my fingertips. I didn¡¯t know what to do with it. Just another cruel joke, I thought¡ªone last tease of something powerful, right before I died. Damn it. I clenched my fist. And something was there. Not air. Cold. Solid. Metallic. I opened my eyes, and saw my hand buried in a swirling black void. Magic¡­? I didn¡¯t think¡ªI just pushed. Reached deeper. And it answered. A weapon slammed into my grasp, long and heavy.. A spear, ornate and obsidian-black, rimmed in veins of molten ruby. The Queen was still coming. She looked just as stunned as I felt, but she didn¡¯t stop. No, she barreled forward¡ªand went face-first into the spear. The impact was instant and brutal. The weapon didn¡¯t budge. It punched through her skull with a sickening crunch, her momentum pinning it to the stone behind me like a grotesque flagpole. She kept sliding, until the shaft buried itself more than halfway, And then, with a sharp crack like splintering bone, the crown shattered. Into pieces. I stared, stunned. Had I just¡­ summoned that? Was that my magic? The spear was still lodged in the Queen¡¯s skull, buried halfway down the shaft. It hadn¡¯t vanished. Not yet. I approached it slowly, eyes locked on the weapon. The black shaft shimmered with a faint white glow, the blade itself rippling as if the air around it had turned to water, calm, but ever moving. Veldrin gasped, loud, unfiltered awe. He rushed over without hesitation, crouching by the weapon and inspecting it with wide eyes. He didn¡¯t say anything at first, just stared. And then¡ª ¡°This weapon is imbued with pure mana,¡± he said at last, voice barely above a whisper. ¡°It¡­ I¡¯ve never seen anything like it.¡± And as if on cue, the spear began to unravel, its glow fading, the shaft fracturing like brittle glass. Within seconds, it crumbled away, disappearing into the air like it had never been there at all. Only the wound it left remained. I got to my feet slowly, staring down at my hands, half-expecting the spear to still be there. It wasn¡¯t. But the tingling sensation lingered, like static crackling under my skin. Bromm, Elunara, and Bob crowded in around me. Veldrin was the first to speak. "Do you know¡­ what this means?" I didn¡¯t even pause. "Yeah. I won¡¯t have to bug Haldrek for new weapons anytime soon." Veldrin turned toward me like he was about to slap me again. Then he laughed. Loud, and longer than I expected. "That is also true," he said between breaths, "but it means there¡¯s still magic in this world that I don¡¯t understand¡­" He trailed off, his gaze locking onto me with a gleam that made my skin crawl. He looked at me like I was a puzzle. A rare experiment. A living artifact he wanted to take apart and study from the inside out. I didn¡¯t like that look. Not one damn bit. The fight was over. With the Queen dead, the remaining Boglins scattered into the darkness. The faint wet slaps of their feet echoed off the stone as they fled, fading deeper into the tunnels. Elunara went around patching us up. None of us were too badly hurt, but we couldn¡¯t afford to linger. Veldrin knelt beside the shattered crown, prodding at the broken, coral-like chunks with a look of disappointment. ¡°Well,¡± he muttered, ¡°that was the only thing of value on this... creature.¡± He said it like the word tasted rotten, as he gathered the pieces up, stuffing them into a sack. My heart was still hammering. I¡¯d just done magic. Real magic. And it had saved my life. I didn¡¯t understand it, didn¡¯t know what triggered it, how it worked, or if I¡¯d ever be able to do it again. But I was grateful it happened. We moved deeper into the cave, the tunnels narrowing and winding as we walked. Veldrin, of course, wouldn¡¯t shut up. ¡°Try again,¡± he said behind me. ¡°I have been!¡± I snapped. ¡°Just focus! You must¡¯ve felt something¡ªtry to replicate it.¡± ¡°I am trying!¡± He wouldn¡¯t let it go. Every few steps, another demand. Another theory. Another half-baked suggestion. But no matter how hard I concentrated, nothing happened. I couldn¡¯t feel the pull. Couldn¡¯t find the void. My hands were just hands again. Useless and empty. I wasn¡¯t any closer to figuring it out, but that didn¡¯t stop Veldrin from scolding me like I was hiding some grand secret on purpose. Eventually, the tunnel widened again, this time not into another passage. This had to be the Queen¡¯s lair. At the center sat a massive, repulsive hill of mud and bile, piled high into a throne-shaped mound. Just large enough for her to squat on. All around it lay scattered junk, splintered wood, broken crates, more of those weird wooden cups, the busted wheel of a cart¡­ and a wooden leg? I guess this was the ¡°treasure hoard¡± Elunara mentioned. A moment later, she rushed forward, eyes gleaming. She started digging through the junk like she¡¯d just stumbled onto a gold vein, brushing aside filth, inspecting scraps, humming to herself like she was about to haul off a wagon full of priceless loot. But there was no hoard. No real treasure. Nothing of value. We turned over every inch of the chamber, and after a while, even Bob lost interest in rooting around further. With a huff, Elunara picked up the wooden leg in one hand and regrouped with the rest of us. Bromm stared at her. Silent. Deadpan. ¡°What?¡± she asked. ¡°Leave the leg, Elunara,¡± Bromm said. ¡°I want to keep it.¡± ¡­He didn¡¯t argue. Just gave a long blink, then turned away. Like this was just another day in the Hollow. ¡°We best find an exit,¡± he muttered. ¡°Sun¡¯ll be down soon. And we got what we came for.¡± He glanced at me, and gave me a nod. There was only one tunnel left, aside from the one we came from. So we followed it, leaving the revolting chamber behind. Then¡ªPOP. ¡°Oh man¡­ that was disssgustinggg,¡± came a voice, drawn out and theatrical. The imp. ¡°You¡¯re sooo close,¡± it crooned. ¡°You almost got it figured out. But still so far away¡­¡± Veldrin froze mid-step. His eyes went wide. Right. I¡¯d forgotten he couldn¡¯t hear the imp, so the sudden appearance of it, must of been jarring. Actually¡­ I¡¯d forgotten to tell him about what the imp said to me the day before. Everything had happened so fast. ¡°Uh¡­ Veldrin,¡± I started, the others turning toward me. ¡°So, the imp wants you to help it get out of its phase shift. Said it¡¯d help us in return.¡± Veldrin blinked slowly. Then he laughed. Sharply. ¡°You¡ªyou¡ªwant me to trust an imp? Do you hear yourself? These creatures exist to serve chaos. They lie. They manipulate. They don¡¯t help mort¡ª¡± He never finished. A rock nailed him square in the forehead. ¡°HOW DARE YOU!¡± he roared, spinning with enough fury to nearly fling his staff. Elunara jumped. Bromm instinctively reached for his axe. Neither of them could see it. To them, Veldrin had just snapped mid-rant and declared war on a shadow. But I could see it. Still standing there on the ground. Still grinning. The imp toppled over with laughter, kicking his heels in the air like this was the best theater he¡¯d seen in centuries. Before anyone could react, a light flickered ahead. And with it¡ªfootsteps. We turned, weapons half-raised. I guess this dungeon wasn¡¯t done with us yet. The steps grew louder. Heavier. Multiple sets trailing behind a much larger pair. Then, torches. Flames split the dark, and through them stepped¡­ someone familiar. Tarak. The towering Tauren shaman emerged from the tunnel, flanked by a group of cloaked humans carrying torches. ¡°What are you doing here, Tarak?¡± Veldrin barked, his voice sharp and suspicious. Tarak¡¯s eyes swept over us, calm and unreadable. ¡°The spirits whispered of danger. I came to offer aid. I didn¡¯t expect to find you here.¡± The imp didn¡¯t speak. Didn¡¯t move. But it stared at Tarak, head tilted slightly, like it was seeing something it didn¡¯t quite recognize. Tarak continued, ¡°The mana here is twisted¡­ tainted. I¡¯ve come to cleanse what I can. The exit¡¯s just ahead, about a hundred yards back. It¡¯ll lead you out near the Fields, back toward the Hollow.¡± Without another word, he turned and kept walking. The humans followed silently, cloaks trailing behind them as they moved toward the tunnel we¡¯d just come from. As Tarak passed me, he looked down¡ªnot at me, but at something near my feet. The imp. He stared just a second too long¡­ then moved on. Veldrin scoffed. ¡°More spirit talk. More vagueness. Of course.¡± Elunara turned to me, brow raised. ¡°Alright, someone better start explaining. Why are you and Veldrin suddenly talking to shadows?¡± Her eyes narrowed. ¡°You¡¯re not on Madcap Dust, are you?¡± Chapter 19: The Name鈥檚 Razleak Chapter 19: The Name¡¯s Razleak The tunnel¡¯s gloom finally broke. A sliver of sunlight pierced the damp haze ahead, cutting through the shadows like a blade. I squinted as the musk of rot and stone gave way to the sharp, sweet sting of fresh air. My lungs drank it in¡ªgreedy, desperate¡ªafter hours of choking on Boglin stench and fungal rot. My clothes were wrecked, caked in filth and gods-knew-what else. I was definitely stopping by Zibbin¡¯s the second we got back. These were beyond saving. ¡°If I never smell Boglin again, it''ll be too soon,¡± Bromm muttered. While Elunara¡¯s sigh carried the quiet relief of a healer who¡¯d spent too long steeped in muck. Veldrin, naturally, was already complaining¡ªsomething about the unacceptable dampness of his robes. Bob snorted happily, flinging muck from his tusks with a shake. And then there was the Imp¡ªtrailing at the rear, fingers interlaced behind his head, eyes half-lidded as he took a long, exaggerated inhale of the air. ¡°So¡­ you manifested your power. Congratulations on lighting your first spark,¡± the imp said, voice laced with sarcasm. But that smug grin faded. His eyes narrowed. He brought his hands in front of him, rubbing his palms together like he was warming them over a fire¡ªor plotting something far worse. ¡°If you want to control your abilities, you¡¯re going to need my help. And that,¡± he added, his voice dropping into something lower, more serious, ¡°is the truth.¡± He leaned in slightly, his expression turning sharper. ¡°Go on. Ask Veldrin what he¡¯s keeping from you.¡± My brow furrowed. Confusion knotted behind my ribs, tight and twisting. What was he talking about? I glanced toward Veldrin, hesitation creeping in. The imp let out an exaggerated sigh and started shooing me toward him. ¡°Go on, go on, ask him!¡± Veldrin noticed. His spine stiffened, and he turned slightly in our direction. And now that I really looked at him¡­ he did seem distant. Distracted. Like his mind was running laps somewhere far away. I hesitated. ¡°Hey, Veldrin¡­¡± I started, my voice uncertain. ¡°Is something on your mind?¡± I wasn¡¯t sure if the imp was trying to mess with me¡ªplant seeds, stir up trouble, or just enjoy the chaos. But¡­ it couldn¡¯t hurt to ask. Veldrin looked at me for a few heartbeats, unreadable as ever. Then¡ª ¡°Ah, yes¡­ Arthur,¡± he said with a dismissive wave. ¡°Don¡¯t fret, my boy. I¡¯ll be sure to set aside your share of the gold once we sell off the crown.¡± ¡°Oh, what the¡ªhe¡¯s lying!¡± the imp snapped, jabbing the air in Veldrin¡¯s direction with both hands. ¡°Go on! Ask him about the¡ª¡± He made an exaggerated stabbing motion, grunting with effort. Veldrin noticed. His eyes flicked toward the imp, and for just a second, his jaw tightened. ¡°I meant¡­ about the spear, Veldrin,¡± I said, more firmly this time. Bromm and Elunara glanced over and stepped in closer, their attention shifting toward us. Veldrin hesitated, eyes flicking between each of us. Then he sighed, brushing dust from his sleeve like he needed the motion to compose himself. ¡°Right. The spear,¡± he said at last. ¡°As I mentioned, it was imbued with pure mana. But¡­¡± He drew in a sharp breath. ¡°That wasn¡¯t all. It was forged from Nocturnium¡ªa metal not native to Selion.¡± He gestured toward the imp, face curling with visible distaste. ¡°It comes from his world. Which means, Arthur¡­ so does your power.¡± I shook my head, confused. ¡°But nothing about me is from Selion. I¡¯m from Earth. And you made it sound like accidental summons aren¡¯t uncommon.¡± Veldrin gave a dry snort. ¡°Accidental summons happen, yes. One might try for a shadow hound and end up with a soot-fiend. That¡¯s magic for you. But never¡ªnever¡ªhas a living human come through from another world¡­ and wielded magic.¡± He adjusted his collar, brushing off nonexistent dust, then glanced warily at the horizon. ¡°Come. Let¡¯s keep walking. We don¡¯t want to be caught out here in the dark, not now¡± All six of us moved together, the fading light casting long shadows across the path. After a few moments, the imp strolled a little closer. ¡°Ask Veldrin,¡± the imp said, his tone oily with mock sweetness, though the words dripped with disdain. ¡°Ask him what he¡¯s been hypothesizing¡­ about this little phase shift of mine.¡± Before I could, Elunara cut in. ¡°So you¡¯re telling me the imp he¡¯s been raving about all these years is actually real?¡± She turned to me, eyes narrowed like I might be in on some elaborate prank. ¡°Yes, Elunara¡­ he¡¯s real,¡± I said. ¡°And I suspect we¡¯ll be finding more answers very soon.¡± Veldrin cleared his throat and stepped forward. ¡°Now, Arthur. What exactly has this¡­ thing been saying to you? What does it want?¡± ¡°It wants to know what you¡¯ve been theorizing. About the phase shift. How it might be broken.¡± Veldrin gave a slow nod, his expression tightening. ¡°Yes. The phase shift is unstable. It¡¯s trapped between realms. But there may be a way to resummon it¡ªthough not by ordinary means. It would require more than just arcane brilliance¡­ it would require intent. Consent. And its name.¡± Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The imp smirked, clearly pleased with the attention. Veldrin continued, ¡°I believe the phase shift could be broken with a resummoning¡ªbut not the traditional kind. Those are chaotic. Unreliable. What I¡¯m referring to¡­ is a Familiar Contract.¡± Before I could process that, a rock hit me square in the face. ¡°But¡­¡± the imp said, as if my skull were a gong and the rock was the punctuation. ¡°Ugh. But?¡± I asked, rubbing my nose. Veldrin pressed on, ¡°But that kind of bond is usually reserved for spirits, elemental wisps, animals, fey¡ªthings born of Selion. Creatures that already share a natural connection with the summoner. ¡°Demonic summonings, on the other hand, are always temporary. There¡¯s no bond¡ªonly obedience enforced by the casting. They can¡¯t harm the caster, and their power is limited. The more they do, the faster they¡¯re pulled back. ¡°And then there¡¯s the problem of origin. They aren¡¯t of Selion. That fact alone makes the ritual impossible under normal circumstances. ¡°But now¡­¡± He looked at me, eyes narrowing with fascination. ¡°Now, with you here, it would seem¡­ it might just be possible after all.¡± ¡°Hey,¡± the imp chimed in, raising a hand like he was volunteering for something. ¡°The name. It¡¯s Razleak.¡± POP¡ªHe vanished ¡°Razleak,¡± I said aloud, the name tasting strange on my tongue. Veldrin¡¯s eyes narrowed. A slow smirk crept across his face. ¡°So¡­ I was right.¡± Elunara, still clutching the wooden leg like it was an artifact, finally broke the silence. ¡°Tarak¡ªthe Tauren. I¡¯ve met him in passing. How do you all know him? From what I¡¯ve heard, he¡¯s a revered Shaman. Came from Lunareth to study and help cleanse the mana¡­¡± Veldrin practically hissed. ¡°Revered? Shaman? Those two words don¡¯t belong in the same sentence, my dear.¡± He turned, eyes sharp. ¡°Shamans ¡®listen¡¯ to the spirits, yes¡ªbut do tell, aside from whispering riddles to rocks and interpreting the shape of moss, when have the spirits ever said anything useful? Vague warnings. Cryptic nonsense. ¡®Truths¡¯ only they can hear. Convenient, isn¡¯t it?¡± Bromm let out a low chuckle, quickly smothered by a fake cough. Bob grunted in agreement, shaking his big head like he understood every word. Up ahead, the glow of braziers and torches lit the path back to the Hollow. Shadows danced between trees and underbrush, flickering like silent watchers. We were almost home. But something seemed¡­ off. There was more noise than usual¡ªmore movement. Voices overlapping in a steady hum. The Hollow was always calm at this hour. This was different. Elunara¡¯s eyes went wide, that same spark of energy lighting up her face again. Bromm huffed beside me. ¡°Supply wagons made it,¡± he muttered. ¡°Best we take a look and see what sort of wares they brought.¡± I glanced down at myself, taking in what had technically been new clothes this morning. I needed replacements. Badly. As I looked over the mess, I plucked off a glob of¡­ something¡ªfrom a crease in my tunic. I hoped it was mud. My undershirt sleeve was shredded, stained with grime and blood. My boots squelched when I walked. And the smell? I didn¡¯t even want to think about the smell. Clothes weren¡¯t the only thing I needed. More urgently¡ªI needed a bath. As we approached the Hollow, I got a full view of the wagons. They were massive¡ªeasily the size of train cars¡ªand looked modular. One had unfolded outward into a storefront, complete with hinged display cases and hanging banners that flapped gently in the breeze. There were three of them in total. What really caught my eye, though, was what pulled them. The creatures looked like a cross between an ox and some kind of oversized badger. Low to the ground with a stocky, muscular build. Their fur was thick and shaggy, swaying with each movement. Wide, padded feet thudded against the dirt path, and broad leather harnesses were strapped across their stout heads¡ªprotecting their eyes from the light and shielding their snouts with dark noseguards. Just beneath those, two massive tusks jutted forward, curving slightly toward the ground. Around the wagons moved figures that stood out like a wound against the natural flow of the Hollow. Three of them¡ªdraped in ghostwhite robes. Each wore a headdress that frayed over their eyes, and atop that, a crown of antlers that arched skyward. Not carved or forged, but natural¡ªyet impossibly symmetrical, like the forest itself had gifted them in reverence. Veldrin¡¯s tone sharpened with recognition. ¡°Wild Wardens¡­ This is peculiar.¡± ¡°What¡¯s a Wild Warden?¡± I asked, eyes drifting back to the antler-crowned figures. Elunara answered before Veldrin could scoff again. ¡°They¡¯re elves... an elite force of spellcasters. Not quite druids, not quite rangers¡ªbut something in between. All of them trained in Lunareth. And they¡¯re never cheap to hire. If a caravan brought them along, it means someone was expecting serious trouble.¡± We walked up to the closest wagon. My eyes scanned the display cases, but my focus immediately locked onto the clothes¡ªfinally, exactly what I needed. I grabbed a fresh blue long-sleeve undershirt, a new pair of brown pants, and, after a moment of hesitation, a pair of boots. My current ones might still be salvageable if I soaked them overnight¡­ emphasis on might. When I stepped up to the payment window, a gnome stood there¡ªsimilar in stature to Fizzin, but older, with large spectacles and a permanent furrow in his brow. He looked me over¡ªup and down¡ªthen sucked his lip and inhaled sharply, clearly disgusted by what he saw. That made two of us. ¡°Would that be all?¡± he asked flatly. I nodded and handed over the coin. Just then, Veldrin stepped up beside me, arms crossed. ¡°Not every day you see Wild Wardens guarding supply wagons. Roads getting more dangerous?¡± The gnome didn¡¯t even look up. ¡°Lunareth¡¯s footing the bill. New edict they passed. Roads are worse, yeah¡ªbut it¡¯s not just the roads. Monsters everywhere are getting more brazen¡­¡± After I bought my new clothes, I took a look at the other wagons. This was the only one with a storefront, which struck me as odd. I turned to Bromm. ¡°Why just the one shop?¡± I asked. ¡°Usually each caravan¡¯s got one general store with it,¡± Bromm replied. ¡°The rest are for resupplying towns and shops along the route.¡± That reminded me¡ªI needed to speak with Haldrek. I needed a bigger shield. Something with more coverage than this buckler. It worked in a pinch, sure¡ªbut during that Boglin dungeon? It wasn¡¯t enough. It didn¡¯t cover enough area, and it wasn¡¯t hard for things to slip past it. My arm got real tore up in that dungeon. If it hadn¡¯t been for Elunara¡¯s healing, I might not even have an arm. Elunara gave a soft goodbye and headed toward the inn. Veldrin wandered off toward Zibbin¡¯s,muttering about damp hems and metaphysical theories. Bromm looked over at me and said, ¡°I¡¯m gonna get a drink.¡± Bob snorted in agreement, and the two of them headed off toward the inn as well. I made my way to Haldrek¡¯s. He¡¯d told me he¡¯d have new stock after the supply wagons rolled in, and I wasn¡¯t going to let the opportunity pass. I needed a new shield¡ªand I was getting one. As I stepped into the smithy, I found Haldrek hammering away on something¡ªlooked like a mining shovel, or maybe some other kind of tool. Whatever it was, sparks flew as he struck, the ring of metal-on-metal filling the air. I tapped the bell mounted near the counter. Haldrek glanced over. ¡°Arthur. Still in one piece, I see.¡± I chuckled. ¡°Barely. This old buckler might¡¯ve saved my life a few times, but I need an upgrade¡ªsomething with a little more coverage.¡± Haldrek gave a sharp grin, clearly pleased. ¡°I got just the thing,¡± he said, disappearing into the back. While I waited, I took in the shop. This time, there was a lot more inventory. Polished metals gleamed on every surface¡ªhand tools, bundles of nails and brackets, weapons arranged neatly on wall racks. It felt more stocked, more alive than usual. Haldrek returned carrying a beautiful heater shield¡ªbroad, slightly curved, and reinforced with a thick steel trim along the edges. The upper corners were subtly notched. It looked like it had been built for both deflection and intimidation. The centerpiece caught my eye: a sprawling knotwork design etched into the metal, curling downward like the roots of some ancient tree. The outer edges curved inward just slightly¡ªperfect for slicing through with a sword while keeping defense tight. One look was all it took. I left the smithy with a grin on my face, a new shield strapped across my back, and my pockets completely empty. As I made my way toward the inn¡ªmostly thinking about baths and clean clothes¡ªa gust of wind kicked up. Paper flapped violently behind me. I turned to see the bounty board rustling in the breeze. One poster had torn halfway loose. I grabbed it before it could fly off. Cleansing Needed: Farmstead well has turned oily black. Crops withering. Livestock dying. I scanned the rest of the board. Most of the Gnoll bounties were gone, replaced by fetch quests and busywork¡ªgathering herbs, delivering packages, restocking supplies. I knew what I wanted now. I restuck the poster and turned back toward the inn. It was time to talk to the group and form a plan.