A low hum resonated around James as his world snapped back into being. It was the faint echo of the safe room’s protective aura collapsing into memory and depositing him into the sunlit forest he had left what felt like ages ago. One moment, he had been wrapped in the comforting hush of that sumptuous chamber—high-backed chairs, warm lamplight, and a bed too soft to be real. The next, the sensation of space seemed to tilt, a dull rushing sound filled his ears, and his vision blurred. Then, like a bubble bursting, he found himself standing unsteadily on a thick patch of grass.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves overhead, dappling his face in golden flecks. A gentle breeze caressed him, carrying the familiar scent of earth and foliage. The breath caught in James’s throat. The forest clearing they had originally disappeared from stretched out around him, dotted with the same towering trunks and gnarled roots as before. It was late afternoon, judging by the angle of the sun. He looked at the ground beneath him: the base of the massive oak with those arcane carvings seen with a flash of {Essence Sight}. He recognized the swirling patterns, though they seemed duller now—almost drained of the luminescence they once held.
He turned in a slow circle, heart pounding in anticipation. Joey, he thought urgently. He must be here too. The safe room had whisked them away to separate sanctuaries, but the System’s completion message had implied they would eventually return to the same exit point. A chirp-like exhalation left James’s lips when he finally spotted a figure at the tree’s far side.
There stood Joey, blinking as if he too had just been hurled through space. His sandy hair was longer than James remembered, or perhaps it just looked that way disheveled around his face. Most striking was that Joey wore a bright, extremely out-of-place wedding dress in a pastel shade of white-lilac, along with pink footwear that clashed with every sensible notion of an adventurer. The pink shoes, studded with faintly glowing runes, looked every bit as bizarre as they sounded. Yet for all its incongruity, the outfit also radiated a faint magical aura—a testament, perhaps, to the bizarre sorts of loot one might discover within a dimensional rift they just went through.
James’s heart twisted as he remembered why Joey had ended up with that wedding dress. Some salamanders got the better of his clothes and had forced a gear swap with a dress they got as a “reward.” James, clad in his own bizarre acquisitions (like the Helmet of Confusion, a pot shaped into a half-visor that constantly threatened to obscure his peripheral vision if he wasn’t careful), felt in no position to judge. He exhaled shakily, relieved above all that Joey stood there, alive.
Yet the relief wavered the moment James’s gaze traveled to Joey’s arm. Or rather, to the lack of the original arm. Just below the shoulder, a prosthetic gleamed—a smooth, silvery metal intricately etched with swirling patterns. Where flesh had been torn away by the Guardian Salamander’s monstrous jaws, this artificial limb now replaced it. James swallowed hard. He recalled with crystal clarity the sound of that savage crunch and Joey’s scream. Seeing him standing upright, apparently functional, was at once a comfort and a haunting reminder of how close they had come to utter disaster.
“Joey!” James called, his throat tight. He took a step forward, nearly stumbling in the overgrown grass. Despite all the chaos, a trembling smile touched his lips. “You made it. Thank—thank the fates.”
Joey blinked, his eyes clearing. He reached up with his new metal arm in an instinctive motion, as though to brush sweat from his brow, then paused in mild surprise at the whir of gears or magical servo hidden inside. “James,” he said softly. A mixture of relief and lingering trauma shone in his expression. “Wow. You’re really here.”
They hesitated only a second before crossing the clearing toward each other. James extended his arms, and Joey—wedding dress, pink shoes, metal arm, and all—stepped forward. They embraced, a spontaneous, desperate hug that seemed to compress all the hours in the rift, the terror, and the heartbreak they’d endured. For a few breaths, neither spoke. The rustling leaves overhead provided a tender backdrop, as if nature itself recognized the import of this reunion.
Joey exhaled shakily when they pulled back, his lips twisting between a grin and a grimace. “Man, you look different,” he said, eyeing James’s gear. The Helmet of Confusion perched atop James’s head, overshadowed by his unruly black hair, was one thing, but the Steel Bloom Cuirass with its living vines etched across the metal was another. The lines faintly glowed, as though attuned to James’s heartbeat. An odd combination with the small baby blanket—the Blanket of Nourishing Comfort—wrapped like a short cloak around his shoulders.
James gave a somewhat self-conscious half-laugh. “I guess we both do,” he said, lightly gesturing to the dress and pink shoes. “Those… are so ridiculous I can't believe you actually wore them.” James said with a more hearty chuckle.
Joey rolled his eyes but laughed. “Don’t remind me. I asked the System for something—anything— to replace it but alas, I'm fated to bless your eyes with this beautiful figure.." winking at James he continued, “Strangest part is, it’s actually comfortable. The Shoes of Balance, really do keep my footwork stable. So I’ve… accepted the look. I am definitely changing out of this dress when we get home though.”
A grin curled on James’s mouth, but his eyes strayed back to Joey’s prosthetic. He lifted a hand tentatively. “May I…?”
“Sure,” Joey said, raising the gleaming arm. “Part of my reward in the safe room, I guess, for finishing the rift. The System gave me a handful of item choices—just like you, I’m sure. I got this Saffron-tier prosthetic in place of a lesser item. It’s synced to my metal mana affinity, or so the text said.” He tapped his own chest. “I’ve got an Iron affinity remember?" James nodded along, "I guess losing my flesh arm for… well, for leaning into that new path.”
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
James looked closer With {Essence Sight}. coarse runic scripts lined the edges. He recognized some of them, reminding him of the wards in the safe room. The metal glinted with an almost organic sheen, like living steel—perhaps not so different from the living aspect of James’s cuirass. Trying {Essence Inspect} lead to no more details though, “Does it hurt?” James asked gently.
“More of a phantom ache than real pain,” Joey said, rotating the joint to show off the range of motion. “I can feel sensation to a point. But it’s definitely not the same as having my actual arm.” His voice grew softer. “I’ll cope. Better than dying, right?”
James nodded, biting down on a wave of regret. If only I’d been stronger, he thought. That same guilt twisted in his chest, though a quick application of {Strategic Tranquility} kept the waves of self-blame from overwhelming him. Instead, it nudged him to focus on the present. “I’m just glad we’re alive,” he whispered. They stood there for a moment, letting the forest hush around them, sharing a wordless agreement that they had survived the rift’s worst trials at tremendous cost. But survive they had.
At length, Joey cleared his throat, scanning the clearing. “So… back where it started, huh?” His gaze found the intricate carvings on the oak bark. “We were messing around near this tree when it all happened.”
“Feels like it’s been years, but it can’t have been more than a month in real time,” James said. He fiddled with the edge of the baby blanket draped around him, an item that ironically overshadowed the grim truths they had faced. “When the Guardian attacked, and… we lost Nyx…” He trailed off, swallowing. The mention of Nyx, James’s familiar, reopened a raw wound. Her limp body was a memory that refused to fade. He forced himself to breathe slowly, letting {Strategic Tranquility} do its work. The pain lingered, but he could still act.
They held a moment of silence for Nyx. Then Joey nodded resolutely. “Let’s see what we actually ended up with. We, uh, didn't get to grab the stuff we left behind and aside from your armor and my… new arm, we should tally our loot so we know what we have.” He gave a short laugh that sounded more like a sigh.
James nodded back. Together, they stepped away from the oak’s broad trunk into a patch of forest that caught more sunlight. They spread out their items in a half circle on the grass, taking inventory of the bizarre trophies from their ordeal.
1. Trident of Homing (Ashen): James’s main weapon. He carefully laid the slender weapon on the ground. Its shaft was a dull gray with faint runic lines near the tip. The three prongs ended in wicked barbs that glistened with residual essence. Once property of some pirate captain, it apparently had minor self-repair and a knack for improved accuracy when thrown or thrust.
2. Lantern of Guiding (Saffron): James set the squat hurricane lantern next to the trident. It had a handle shaped like swirling waves, and inside, a small crystal spark glowed faintly. “It’s saved my life a few times in the rift,” James recalled. “It points toward sources of interest or danger if you feed it a bit of mana. Nothing interesting in range right now apparently.”
3. Signet Ring of Shielding (Ashen) & Ring of Lightning Resistance (Ashen): James flexed his fingers, showing both rings. The shield ring provided an automatic minor barrier on impact, while the lightning ring cut down electrical damage.
4. Helmet of Confusion (Ashen): James wondered if he should continue to wear it as it's more a half beaten pot than anything.
5. Quill of Endless Ink (Ashen): James held up the slender writing instrument. “Never runs out of ink, fueled by mana. I can record events I see or think about. Could come in handy if we need to keep track of… well, anything but we need paper for it.” Checking the rune drawings James made led to a non-starter, the paper he had in the safe room was gone. Continuing on.
6. Small Baby Blanket of Nourishing Comfort (Ashen): Draped around James’s shoulders. He patted it fondly. “It speeds up healing when resting and calms the mind. Hardly fashionable, but I can’t deny how good it felt in the dampness of the rift.”
7. Vanilla Flavored Coffee Beans (Ashen): James rummaged in a pouch, pulling out a small cloth sack. “We barely have any left. They help with mental clarity for a short while, though we crash after.” He shook the bag; the beans rattled softly.
8. Spoon of Perfect Temperature (Saffron): Joey placed a humble wooden-handled spoon on the grass. “Weird loot from the rift,” he said with a less enthusiastic flourish than when they were in the rift.
9. A Piece of Straw (Ashen): Joey grinned sheepishly, holding up a single, unimpressive-looking straw. “+3 Charisma if I chew on it.” He stuck it between his teeth for demonstration, wiggling his eyebrows comically.
10. Joey’s Prosthetic Arm (Saffron): Already attached, obviously. The technology and magic behind it gave him partial sensation and synergy with his Iron affinity but that's all they know about it as no inspecting it yielded any more information.
11. Joey’s Wedding Dress of Veiled Glamour (Ashen) and pink Shoes of Balance (Ashen): The near-ludicrous attire he now sported in place of normal armor. "Hopefully I can get changed out of this soon." Joey lamented.
They took stock of each other’s battered forms though mostly mended. James, now at Level 7 (31/1139 EXP), felt physically and mentally older than his actual years especially with the convergence of Frank and James into one. Joey, though lacking an explicit status readout that James could see had clearly advanced as well and he said he was Level 8.
A moment of silence passed as they mulled over how surreal it was to stand in a quiet forest, laden with such peculiar gear. The spark of urgency returned to them. Their families. They’d been gone for a month—maybe more. James recalled how Bell and Andy must have waited and searched. He felt guilt gnaw at him. “Let’s go,” he said softly, stowing his gear. “It’s at least half a day’s walk back home, if the roads haven’t changed. Maybe less if we hurry.”
They were about to gather their items when a low growl cut through the forest hush. Both boys froze, hands moving instinctively to their weapons. Just past a cluster of ferns, a pair of yellow eyes glinted. A shape emerged—a wolf, larger than any James had ever seen near Tellemoria. Its fur was scruffy, mottled gray and brown, but the muscles beneath rippled with a strange energy.