Blotches plagued Alan’s vision as he groaned awake. He shielded his eyes from brightness, having no memory of being in such a vibrant place.

His heart sank when he thought he’d been dragged back to Strangey Town, then his belly boiled with anger upon seeing the woman who hit him over the head with a stone. She was just sitting there pleasantly on a rock, as if nothing transpired between them.

“What!” He scrambled to his feet, only to notice Yogi smiling pleasantly in a clear spring sipping an oversized ceramic cup of tea. “What?”

“Lady Neesha, you broke my Collector.” Yogi laughed heartily, as did she.

Alan was infinitely exhausted, wanting to strangle ‘Lady Neesha’ for what she’d done.

“Relax, Merchant of Strangey Town. Yogi told me the whole story. You are a good warrior—”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you!”

“Hilariously Colorless and in over your head, but good,” she went on.

Alan didn’t like being ridiculed, especially considering she’d be Yero-losh roadkill if not for him. “Wait a second, where is that beast?”

“Destroyed.” Neesha took a sip of her drink.

“And its remains? Surely it dropped a treasure of some kind,” Alan surmised.

Neesha leaned over the side of her rock and tossed a batch of rotating horns on the ground between them. “I suppose you believe you deserve it?”

Alan motioned to the giant bear-god standing tall beside them. “Need I remind you, you’d be dead if not for my quick thinking.”

Yogi took another sip to avoid the conversation.

“Quiet all of a sudden?” Alan spread his arms at Yogi.

The Borai mumbled something indistinguishable. Something about Alan being the Merchant, not him.

“Yogi and I heroically leapt in to save you. Yes, you reverse-poisoned the swamp to give us a leg-up, but the truth remains the truth, there are no horn treasures, or tea-sipping, or anything without my decision to jump in the way.”

She tilted her head haughtily.

“I’ll have you know my dagger wanted you dead.” He drew Durger and brandished him, noticing no Blue Saro emanated from him. “I vouched for you on top of it all. And what do I get for it? Whacked upside the head.”

Yogi hid behind his tea-cup.

Neesha squinted her eyes. “Take it.”

Alan huffed. “Really? No snarky remark? No ‘I don’t trust you?’”

“I just wanted to see how squirmy you are, Merchant. And now I know. One-sided selfish thinker. You won’t make it past the yellow fog of Ojin with that mindset. No way. Not as a fighter, anyway.”

Alan deflated slightly. “Well, you’re an impulsive shit who thinks it’s okay to sabotage your savior.”

She lifted her chin at him. “About that… I—may have made a mistake.”

“A dumb one.” Alan reached for the horns, refusing to be a simp regardless of how hot she was.

Horns of the Stealth Beast received.

Adaptable Saro

+Bonus Ability – Archer may duck into stealth after every third-consecutive arrow on a single mark. Stealth duration dependent on Saro endurance.

Interesting. Completely useless for either of our classes, but looks insanely valuable, nonetheless.

“C’mon, Yogi, we’re going.”

She twisted her lips. “Fine. Go. Travel through Ojin, deaf, dumb, and blind.”

“I have a god-bear and an age-old weapons forger trapped in a dagger. I’ll be just fine.”

“Ahem. Noble Alan, if I may,” Yogi interrupted. “Her story is one worth hearing.”

A ribbon of Blue Saro inched into his dagger. “Alan. She is a suppressed Healer. That’s a talent we can use in our travels.”

Alan narrowed his eyes at Durger. “First you want me to stab her, now you can’t live without her? I’m surrounded by insanity.”

“Says the guy talking to his weapon and thinks he has a god-bear.” Neesha covered her mouth to mask a chuckle.

Alan eyed her. “You speak as if you know what a bear is. Are you… from Earth?”

She smiled softly, disarming that unlikable arrogance of hers. “No. But people do say where I come from is similar.”

I’ve heard that before. “Cerrain?”

Her eyes widened. “You are familiar?”

“I have a friend who is.”

“Very interesting, Alan. Tell me about this friend.”

“I too would like to hear of realms outside of Ojin.” Yogi folded his gigantic arms over the cliff.

Alan smirked at Neesha. “I do not trust you.”

She scoffed.

“Tell me your story first, Lady Neesha, since you already know some of mine.”

She raised her eyebrows and slid off the rock, folding her legs on the ground. “Where do I begin?”

“From the beginning.” Alan sat opposite her.

They stared at one another for a moment – chemistry jolting between them. Or maybe it was Saro. Either way, Alan’s chest weakened as Neesha noticeably swallowed past a lump in her throat. There could be poetry here, a man and a woman from varying worlds coming together amidst god-bears and monsters.

But then the moment fleeted.

She smiled and peered toward the sky. “In Cerrain… I was a garden-keeper. I had two sisters who were great Warriors of the Allegiance, and a mother who patrolled the skies as their captain. They rode high squalls into the enemy army, and lived. Not me, though.”

“Squalls? Like birds?” Alan laughed. “That doesn’t sound much like Earth. We never fly anything into battle except for machines.”

She sniffed. “I think the similarities come from the constant war.”

“I see.”

“Yes. Well, I was never one for war. My mother, being a respected general in the Allegiance, never really took to my choices. Anyone who would come to my garden would pretend to want to help, until they’d decide to subtly convince me to give it all up for the cause. One went so far as lighting a match to burn it all down. For a decade, my mother tried to sabotage my dreams.”

Hence why you trust no one, Alan figured.

“Every time she failed, because I would merely start again. Give me a seed and some water, and I have the patience of a saintly idol. Life is beautiful.” She frowned. “It’s too bad my family didn’t see it that way.”

“What happened next?” Alan asked.

“This is where it gets good.” Yogi pointed at her.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

“On my twenty-second name day, they came.” She grimaced. “My family was out on a military call. It was to be a routine patrol to ensure no uprising in captured land. Too bad for me, the enemy was aware. Four riders trampled my newly budding garden and surrounded my cabin. Peace, it seemed, was not an option for me. This was to be the year I re-forged my connections and traded with factions for foreign spice. I was to make my mother proud in other ways. But the Fates cut my time short. I was cleaved in the way of the unholy – four curved blades struck my heart at once.” She shook her head. “And like my garden, I died in war. As punishment for my mother’s war-crimes, they culled her weak. They told me so right before they gutted me.”

Alan’s lips folded in a line. “I’m sorry, Neesha. That’s awful.”

“Yes. But that is long in the past.”

“At least you know why you died.” Alan shrugged. “I was just shot in the head by a crazed Archer. No warning, no reason that I’m aware. Just poof, twenty seconds of shock, pain, and hallucination before my lights went out.”

“Was your faction at war?” Neesha asked.

“Um, yeah, technically. But it seems my wars are different than yours. Our faction is heavily shielded from anything military unless you’re in the middle of it. So even though people are fighting and dying somewhere, I lived relatively peacefully.”

“Odd.” She tilted her head.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Alan agreed. “Here, though. It seems everyone has to fight and kill.”

“It is true, sadly. I avoid it as much as I can.”

Alan perked up at the mention. “I’d like to try that route.”

“Hm. You would just slow me down, Merchant.”

“You should not underestimate noble Alan. He is of high moral character, and a quick thinker. I have witnessed such,” Yogi’s voice rumbled the ground.

“You should try to band with her, Sir Alan,” Durger said. “A Healer is invaluable.”

“Listen to the Borai, Neesha. Maybe we can help one another,” Alan said.

She wrinkled her nose. “What Titles do you possess?”

“Hm. God Merchant of Strangey Town, and Low Merchant of Strangey Town.”

“God Merchant?” She tapped her finger against her chin. “Maybe I can sneak you into some deep fog with a Title like that.”

Alan bit his lip. “I still don’t really know how this all works. My dagger tried to explain that the more powerful the Title, the more access to dangerous fog, but why would I want to have access to a place that would definitely kill me?”

Neesha smiled wide. “When I had to venture out for rare seeds, I snuck into some terrible places in my Origin World. I made great finds, but my greatest… was courage.”

“Oh, I’m finding mine fast, here,” Alan assured. “Anything to stay away from Strangey Town.”

“Hah. I suppose anything can be a motivator.”

“What do you say? Give this Merchant a chance to avoid ending up a killer?”

She picked up her stone slab and hugged it tight. “You’d be in over your head. And when you die, I will not feel guilty, because I am telling you now, it will happen.”

Alan clenched his jaw. “You got my back, right Durger?”

“Yes. But you must stick the pointy end of me in a minion at some point. Otherwise, you will die on your knees, as the Stone Chaser says.”

“Send a hint of Blue my way. I cannot suffer that jabbering dagger any longer. There will be no secrets between us on the hunt.”

Alan thought back to Lucius’ cave of Orange Saro. All of the citizens contributed a bit of their own there. Is it the same as teaming up? Can I simply share?

“Careful, Alan. I must mind my tongue if Lady Neesha listens.”

“Noted, Durger.” Alan focused hard on separating a bit of his Blue Saro. He remembered sharing a plate of dinner with his ex. What’s mine is hers, he thought to himself, separating the Saro in his head. Then, when it was loose enough, he swung Durger in her direction, where a bubble of blue essence tethered to her skin.

“Fair?” Alan stood confidently.

“Alright, lowly Merchant, I’ll let you tag along on my next task. Come, switch to your Low Title.”

“Uhh.” Alan willed his Title up in his head and found himself able to easily switch it just by mentally deeming it so. “Alright, done, I think. But why?”

“Pink fog is dicey. Sometimes it responds positively to Low Titles, and greatly respects quirky ones. I imagine we’ll be able to sneak about so long as we don’t appear intimidating.”

“Sounds like Mujungo might be part of that fog,” he joked to himself. “What Title will you be using?

“The one you just earned me.” Neesha beamed facetiously.

“And what might that be?”

“Tomb Stoner of Ojin.” She held up her slab and pretended to whack Alan over the head again.

Alan narrowed his eyes. “So you’ve made it your business to knock unsuspecting people over the head.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Usually, you have to do something more than once to unlock a Title, from what I’m gathering.”

She giggled and blushed.

“I hate you,” he said.

“Come, let us journey to the Pink.” She held the stone slab high in the air.

Alan grimaced at her naivety. “You have no idea how perverted that sounds.”

“Yikes, Sir Alan!” Durger spat.

Neesha hummed to herself as she walked over to Yogi and pet him. “I will see you soon, I hope.”

“What do you mean?” Alan asked. “He’s not coming?”

She peered over her shoulder. “You think walking around with a Borai will come off unintimidating? Pfft. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s time he goes back to his home.”

Alan walked up to Yogi and crouched to pet his fur. “I thank you, friend, for saving Neesha and gaining me these horns.”

“I am honored to be bound to you, noble Alan.” Yogi bowed. “I look forward to one day joining my brethren in Fistel’s Valley. Until then, my protection is yours.”

They nodded at one another. Alan felt an intense vibration in his left hand, and imagined his coining ability at the forefront of his mind. It was the same as when he released Yogi from his confines to fight the Yero-losh.

The Borai smiled at Alan as his form rapidly turned ethereal, until he shot into a shimmering coin manifested in Alan’s grip once more. Alan carefully dropped it in his pouch and patted it twice in comfort.

“Come, Merchant.” Neesha nodded for him to trek with her through the tall green grass away from the cliff.

Alan pushed the blades away from his path, somewhat in awe at how lively the swampland looked. No. It couldn’t even be called a swamp anymore. These were sparkling springs now. The minions skittering in the distance no longer appeared as black blobs and swarms of bugs, but rather oversized green insects like praying mantises. Alan didn’t know which was worse.

How long has Farante been poisoning this place? he wondered.

Neesha trekked at a fast pace, hugging her stone, her oversized robes further becoming caked in filth at the bottom.

“Why don’t you just store it away?” Alan practiced coining the revolving horns since he didn’t know how to equip it.

“I’m trying to learn from it. A thick-headed money grubber wouldn’t understand.”

Alan sighed. “Try me.”

She eyed the stone like she was cradling a newborn, saying nothing.

“What’s so special about it that you’d risk your life?” he went on.

“Pfft. Everyone wants to know the secrets of the universe, stupid. So few are willing to risk it all to find it, though.”

Alan considered tossing some more Blue Saro onto the stone to see if he could understand the gibberish writing etched onto it, but Neesha’s eyes flashed neon green when she saw him consider it.

“Mind yourself,” she hissed.

“I’m just curious. I could probably just as well put Saro on my forehead since the indents are probably still there.”

She abruptly turned away, masking a laugh, which made Alan’s chest lighten.

They walked down the path beside the healed swamp for a good ten minutes, then took a hard right toward a deep valley. Alan gasped more than once at the impossible scenery. Hills that would’ve been unthinkable on Earth extended for miles. Magical creatures with bright blue skin squawked while diving straight into an upside-down tree. It poked its metallic beak into a hole and came out with a ball of grey essence that it scarfed down.

Alan didn’t bother asking.

They continued on, making a left half-way down the hill, onto a path of circling grass and deep trenches. Neesha was careful to pull Alan to the side whenever a minion patrolled overhead. Slowly, an unspoken bond began to form. Two neutral wanderers exploring the mysteries of Ojin, nothing more.

“It is a piece of a large puzzle,” Neesha spoke low.

“What is?” Alan whispered back, wondering if danger lurked nearby.

Neesha lifted her stone.

“Oh.” Alan scratched his head. “I hear Stone Chasers seek to understand our Origins.”

“Some do, yes. But not me. I’m looking for something deeper.”

“What can be deeper than our creation?” Alan asked.

“I want to know why.”

“Why what?”

“Why my mom despised me for my nature. Why war always wins. Why, in this vast universe, are we surrounded by it?”

Alan sniffed. “Because survival depends on the killing of others. Surely you had steak in your world, or something like it, right? An animal died so you could live.”

Her face scrunched in anger.

“Even a plant!” Alan went on in case she was vegetarian. “It may not scream when you kill it, but you kill it all the same, no? Resources are scarce. And some of us naturally want to control as many as possible. Isn’t war just a larger-scale version of that? Murder for survival. Dominance for prosperity.”

“You, sir, are taking some large leaps in logic,” Neesha said.

“Am I?”

“Yes, you are. What about the notion of greed? It is a big part of war. Why are the dark parts etched into our souls?”

“Greed is a sense of prolonged security, which is an extension of survival.”

“Hm.” She picked up the pace.

“Hm, what?” Alan rushed to catch up. “You agree, don’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “I simply forgot what it was like to live in the mind of a first-life.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look around you, noble Alan.” She gestured wide. “We can survive on essence with the most basic of skill until we are a thousand years old. Yet still we are wrapped in war. The universe is bigger than your old life.”

Alan deflated. She’s right.

“However… your logic is not awful, I suppose. A good trait for a Stone Chaser. Perhaps you should consider abandoning your lowly Merchant desires, and chase true catharsis, like me.”

“Pass. I like Saro too much. Besides, I’m looking for a path home, not a slide deeper down this rabbit hole.”

“Home.” She laughed. “What if there is no home by the time you find a portal there? What if it’s a barren wasteland and you just locked yourself out of a universe full of answers?”

“What if you’re chasing your tail until the end of your days?”

“Tail?”

“Figure of speech.” Alan shrugged. “You hug a thousand stones and find yourself no wiser than your first.”

Neesha scoffed. “Careful, you’re starting to sound like those Saro-obsessed war birds. If you’re not cautious, you might become one before you know it.”

The two of them trekked up a mountain littered with diamond-linked chains the size of Alan’s Borai. Whenever the pathway got too steep, Neesha would stuff the stone slab in the pouch on her back and start climbing the shimmering links. Alan followed suit, wondering why there were no slipstreams or easier ways to travel here.

Eventually, Alan kept getting whiffs of cotton candy and roasted marshmallows. It was a tempting smell, coupled with a pink mist leaking from far above like dissipating clouds. The new section of Ojin was close. It made Alan nervous to advance again so soon. He much preferred spending time learning each area, and counting his blessings he was able to exist away from Strangey Town.

But alas, Neesha was his ticket away from ending up a killer. So, he had to try.

They rested against an inlet within the steep incline, noticing the pink mist thickening.

“Why search for any of these answers in the first place, Neesha? We’re here now, in Ojin. Why not hone these new skills that we’ve all been given and try to secure our own sense of security? Then we can work on being philosophers.” Alan played devil’s advocate.

“Because… I want to be ready…”

“For what?”

“For when I see them again.”