The young girl, who I assumed was meant to be my opponent, glanced back and forth between Synthia and me with a mixture of curiosity and caution.
“Do you know him?” she asked, tugging gently at the hem of Synthia’s pale-blue shirt. The movement revealed the sleek, metallic brace strapped from her wrist to elbow, its surface veined with streaks of luminous blue and gold. The glowing lines pulsed and shifted in fluid segments as though feeding some engine within her.
Synthia’s honey-amber eyes were veiled, her face caught in the same frozen shock I felt twisting in my chest. The girl tugged again, softer this time, but Synthia remained motionless.
“H—how are you here?” I finally managed, the breath in my lungs only just returning.
She didn’t respond right away, still suspended in the moment. Her hair had changed, longer now, perhaps out of newfound comfort in being accepted by someone of high standing, or maybe she just didn't need the safety of short hair.
From what I understood, she had been out in the wilds before. Having hair that wouldn't get caught only made sense.
Once her golden strands barely grazed her shoulders. Now, they fell freely, cascading far beyond them.
“I… You’re Peter, right?” she said at last, stepping forward with measured hesitation.
I nodded, easing my expression into a welcoming smile which made her falter mid-step. Even the little girl beside her blinked, both of them visibly disarmed by my charm.
A soft exhale escaped Synthia’s chest. Something I’ll call relief to preserve my own pride, and her rigidness, began to ease. “Definitely you.”
“I’m not fighting him, am I, Ancestor?” my presumed opponent asked, retreating slightly behind Synthia. That eerie neon-blue hue saturating this place burned in her gaze as she stared past Synthia and me. “His... he seems suspicious.”
Freaking brat.
I resisted the urge to glare at the girl, who hasn't seen her thirteenth birthday yet, and kept my eyes trained on the most unexpected reunion I’d experienced since arriving here. “Weren’t you in Voxter?”
The room remained still, weighted with a shared awareness that this moment needed silence as Synthia gave a nod. “Coming here was my reward for passing—for placing second. It was my request.”
That gave me pause. Back in Voxter, I would have wagered on the Princess of Voxter securing that spot after I left the rest. But of course, Synthia had her own strengths. She must’ve found what she needed within the illusion, just as I had.
I didn’t press her for details, though my gaze lingered, quietly asking for more.
Wrrr—
A sharp, mechanical hum buzzed from the child behind her, pulling Synthia’s attention in a whip-turn. “Stop that, Mei!” she snapped.
The air grew suddenly dense, pressing in with weight as the metallic brace on her arm ignited with brilliant intensity. It seemed to pull energy, but I couldn't see it. Even when on instinct, I linked my sight to Luna's. Could it be stored in her arm?
Mei’s bob-cut, midnight-black hair fluttered with invisible force as her eyes deepened into a ghostly blue. The kind of color that would paralyze you if you glimpsed it in a darkened hallway. Seriously, if I ever saw that child waiting around a corner…
Some horrors don’t need words.
“If you know him, then he must be one of—OW!”
Flick.
Her words were cut short by a deceptively gentle flick to the shoulder from her friend. “He’s nice. I told you about him. Don’t you remember?” Synthia scolded, her tone firm but not unkind.
Mei rubbed the spot, stunned rather than hurt. Her wide eyes weren’t teary, but something shimmered beneath them. “Remember who?”
Before anyone could answer, a voice rose behind me, slicing cleanly through the situation.
Mei. You should be more polite when greeting other champions.”
I turned, catching a low stream of grumbling behind me, loud enough to be heard by someone like me and... I imagine she knew that.
The kind of words that had no business coming out of someone that age. Not that I’d been any better when I was her size, but still… I decided to pretend I hadn’t heard the string of critiques like “creepy smile” or “can’t have any good intentions.”
Griffith remained sprawled across the floor, completely absorbed in transcribing symbols from one of the glass panels, utterly detached from our unfolding drama. Thanks to his dedication with the… what was it?
The buck-toothed rodents of the electric swamp lands and their fascinating ability in architecture.
Yeah. That’ll come in handy. Definitely.
I slid into a seat beside Serith. Synthia settled next to me, and Mei took the spot beside her.
Amei let out a weary sigh and gestured vaguely in my direction. “Now. Why don’t you all introduce yourselves?” Her tone held all the tired resignation of someone who'd already given up hope for decorum.
I angled my body slightly to peer past Synthia at the girl, who was still muttering inconsistencies under her breath like she was drafting a book of personal insults. She sat so close to Synthia that I had to lean around her awkwardly.
“I’m Peter…” I began.
Nothing. Not even a blink.
Alright. No big deal. She reminded me of Macy and Lacy—around the same age too with the same look of unimpressed defiance. I should make myself sound impressive.
“I’m the King of the Shattered Isle,” I declared with gravitas, “and Master of the Harmonic Sect.”
From somewhere nearby came a sudden, loud cough from the mountain masquerading as a scholar. But whatever he choked on, he quickly buried beneath the furious scratching of pen on parchment.
“King?” Mei asked, eyes narrowing with blatant skepticism. “You don’t look like one.”
I blinked. “Have you met many?”
She didn’t answer, so I pressed on. “I’ll have you know, I am the proud leader of over—” I held up one hand, then the other, counting slowly on my fingers with dramatic flair. I mumbled the numbers under my breath to build tension. Mentioning high and low with no recognizable pattern.
“Over ten whole people!” I finished triumphantly, holding both hands aloft and grinning.
She blinked again. Turned to her ancestor with an expression that screamed: Is he for real?
“Impressive, right?” I added, beaming at her without a trace of sarcasm.
A pause. Then, with an honesty that bordered on brutal, she shook her head slowly, a flicker of amusement playing at the corners of her mouth. “No. Not impressive at all.”
I withdrew my hands thoughtfully, stroking my chin in deep contemplation. “Hmm. Ah! How about this?”
I stood, planted one foot theatrically on the chair, and raised my arm as if hoisting a legendary blade toward the heavens.
“I have defeated my greatest opponent. A man who sought to turn me into nothing more than a puppet that sat beneath his will!”
I glanced down at Mei, watching her face shift. There was a flicker of something closer to curiosity than skepticism.
“People can be made into puppets where you’re from?” she asked, her voice hushed. Then she turned to Synthia as well, splitting the question evenly between us. “That sounds terrifying.”
She had completely ignored my grand proclamation, and zeroed in on the most unsettling piece. But hey, the grumbling had stopped, so I considered that progress.
Before Serith could cut in with the truth, I answered, tapping into the stories I’d consumed before crossing into this world. “There are evils out there far worse than you can imagine. Puppets are just the beginning.”
I twisted in the chair to face her more directly, voice low with dread. “Monsters that crawl through toxic wastelands. Ghosts that shriek at the sight of anything alive. Spirits that press themselves into you, trying to take over your body, to consume you from the inside out.”
Excellent story! Wyrem praised with theatrical enthusiasm. Now tell her something even more ridiculous.
I held up two fingers, barely an inch apart.
“Tiny worms,” I began solemnly, “that trap the soul of a beast so immense, so ancient, it could swallow stars whole. A true dragon.”
The worm stirred in me with protest. That’s not what I—
Do me next! Luna interjected brightly, cutting Wyrem off mid-thought.
I obliged without hesitation. I raised my right arm, wooden fingers curled, my rose companion nestled against the wrist.
“Mystical Grass,” I said, voice deepening. “Alive. Thinking. A creature that can flourish or devour in tandem with others. A being capable of changing form And I’ve experienced it all.”
With every word, Mei leaned in closer, her curiosity slowly overpowering her suspicion. She studied Luna with awe as the plant extended her thorn-lined body and smoothed out her dark green leaves. Her petals brightened into a vivid pink as they reached toward Mei’s outstretched fingers.
But just before they touched, I pulled back.
“Even me,” I added softly, watching Luna coil gently around my arm as if anticipating the cue.
Luna? I called inwardly.
She didn’t answer, but understood. She played along perfectly, coiling up my arm, applying delicate pressure. I summoned a single droplet of water that formed at the tip of my finger. It slid downward in a glistening arc, chased by my own root structures, curling after it like vines. As Luna withdrew, the tendrils weaving around her gently.
“Something beyond human,” I said, then gestured toward Mei’s arm. “Though… we both have that.”
“Ghost?” Serith chuckled behind me, breaking the spell. “I get the pageantry, Peter, trust me, but a worm hiding a dragon? That’s pushing it. I’ve seen a real—”
“I want to go!” Mei suddenly burst out, her voice alight with longing. She turned to her ancestor, ignoring Serith entirely.
Amei didn’t chastise her. Instead, she smiled, slow and indulgent.
“If you can make it yourself,” she said with a shrug. “I have no power to take you there for anything but business. And certainly not to play around.”
Mei slouched back into her seat, not sulking, but contemplative. She turned to Synthia, voice softer now. “I’ll make it one day. If you want to go too… I understand if you don’t.”
Synthia’s smile returned, small but sure. “You know I always planned to return home. We’ll find a way to go again.”
She glanced at me then looked back at her younger companion. “Though, you might discover Peter… slightly exaggerated,” she teased.
“The flower was real though,” Mei muttered.
I looked down at Luna, now curled peacefully along my wrist like she was performing a quiet dance. Her petals still glowed pink, pulsing with warmth. And in that moment, the thought struck me—
My life really was becoming something like those characters in stories.
Cosmic dragons and celestial lions. Beings sculpted from pure energy. Unnamed horrors with eyes like dying stars, entities with the power to drown worlds in bloodlines that both shattered and uplifted.
Creatures from realms I hadn’t even imagined, drawn by forces they themselves might not understand.
I had experienced it all. Not ghost though.
Luna must have felt the same rising tide of myth in my thoughts, because her voice rang through me with quiet conviction:
We’ll become like the legends of my tribe, carving mountains with roots.
Reclaiming the true form of my majesty, Wyrem added, his voice pulsing with certainty. If I had never met you, Peter, I would still be shackled beneath that monster’s will.
But you… you will rise from this.
And not as some bedtime legend prettied up with lies. You will surpass that. Your goal is higher than any who came before.
He paused, then added with a weight I’d never heard in his voice:
That thing you faced wasn’t a god. Nothing is permanent.
You will rise above it.