An entire town of soldiers – Wizards, Bladesmen, Hunters, Healers, and Stalkers – all turned to Alan with grateful sorrow in their expressions. All but Flint and Lucius.

Sema rushed from the ward to hug Alan first. “God bless your willing sacrifice, Alan. We will construct a statue next to Mujungo’s, to honor your courageous heart.”

Alan glanced at Sema wrapping her arms tight around him, then eyed the statue of the shirtless boy in a loose-fitting headdress. That’s supposed to be Mujungo?

“To noble Alan!” A warrior in an intricate Sparta-style helmet raised his broad sword.

Faces praising him were dirtied and tattered, making Alan wonder how long they’d been fighting. A way more important question – why did the vision of a psychotic frog cause all of this chaos in the first place? On every turn, someone praised his progress, but something about it felt so… off.

And probably the most critical question of all – why can’t Mujungo defend his own realm?

“You don’t have to leave us, Alan.” Flint pushed past the others. “There was no binding contract, or trade. It was a mere conversation between two foes.”

“It feels binding, Flint,” Alan admitted, putting one arm around Sema to comfort her. “If I don’t go, Jaeger’s army will only return with greater loopholes to destroy Strangey.”

“You don’t know how many lives you just saved, Alan. We are eternally grateful.” Sema peered up at him.

When others tried to get close, Yogi hunched over to scare them.

“Do you believe yet, Sir Alan?” Durger asked.

Alan responded with a quick shake of his head. The clouds above all contorted into fluffy prayer emojis, he guessed in thanks to him.

“I’m coming with you,” Lucius growled. “If there’s a way home, I’ll be on your coattails every step of the way.”

“Of course.” Alan nodded to Lucius and put a hand on his shoulder.

Flint folded his arms, tapping his staff impatiently against his leg. “I too must guide you. One wrong potion and you will be drowned into the beige fog never to be heard of again.”

Alan felt a warmth about his friends’ declaration, and it was nice to be revered by an entire town.

Sema weakly broke the embrace and stood to face the army. “This man… a newcomer by all definition, found the might to crawl off his bed with an Orange Saro dragon wound, and face the might of a Shiva. The next time a realm attacks ours, may we all find that courage.”

A tingling sensation rushed through Alan, followed by a prompt:

UNIQUE TITLE UNLOCKED:

Title: *Selfless Merchant of the People

Affinity: Support-type Saro abilities, including healing and utility enhancements, are strengthened when this Title is active.

ABILITY ADVANCED:

Thought Unification +1 – Origin World thoughts will more strongly link to your Colorless Saro affinity.

“Now come, noble Alan. Back to bed. Head Healer’s orders.” Sema tugged at his arm, but Alan stood firm.

“I must be going, Madam Sema.” He folded his lips into a line. “There’s someone in Ojin that waits for my aid. You stopped the spread of the dragon’s fiery poison, and for that, I’m eternally grateful.”

Flint swooped in to Alan’s space, winking at the giant Borai as he began to whisk Alan away from the crowd. “My dear, dear Alan. We won’t be going anywhere for a while.” He pointed to the sky, where cracks in space itself refused to settle – like a stitched wound trying to break open. “The realm is unstable from Hyndole’s attack, so I’m afraid Mujungo creating a portal to Ojin will not be possible until things are back in order.”

Lucius stalked up to Alan’s other side. “Reparation protocols are in order, Flint. We should work together to force a portal open.”

“To what end, my good Stalker?” Flint spun in a full circle – robes fanning out fluidly. “We owe allegiance to our town. You just risked your life to defend them, and now when they need us most, you dare pretend you have no qualms abandoning them?”

Alan wondered if that meant his humiliations owed to Mujungo were put on hold, or forgiven entirely for a greater cause.

Lucius huffed and turned away.

“The Orange Saro wielders look up to you.” Flint pointed his staff.

“It’s true,” Alan said. “I witnessed it with my own eyes. You’re a leader, my friend. Whether you accept the responsibility or not.”

“I am nothing but a determined warrior, desperately seeking to get home…” Lucius trailed off, opening his palm to thaw frozen plants afflicted by the attack.

Alan felt uneasy walking through the forest pathways near where he originally spawned in Strangey Town. A once vibrant and zany world was strained with pain. The smiling grass frowned and moaned as they walked by, like beggars on the street hoping things would get better. Clairvoyant frogs were no longer breaking gravity and flipping in slow motion, but rather shivering in place with wide unfocused eyes.

It was a sad sight, truly, even if Alan hated the place.

“Where are we off to, exactly?” Alan asked. “I understand these people need help, but I’m with Lucius. Him and I must return.” As soon as he said the words, a pang jolted his gut.

His memories of Earth were vibrant. He missed his mom, his sister, even his ex, but… he was powerful here. Revered.

“Patience, Merchant Warrior. The trees are in need of our elemental cleansing. Look with your eyes.”

It was true – the braided trees with deep island accents were no longer lively. Some were shivering – frozen over, while others suffered burnt patches throughout their branches.

“We love to criticize and make fun of Mujungo, but we will not turn our back on him, Alan.”

Alan twisted his lips. He supposed Flint was right, in a sense. “I did call on him to save me from a dragon.”

“A-ho! That must’ve been some slick portal work,” Flint surmised.

“It was, actually. The dragon had me gripped in its freaking talons. Look at this.” Alan lifted some of his shirt, exposing the sizzling marks still surrounded by White Saro.

“Ah! An Orange wound. Dangerous. It’s a good thing we have some of the best Healers in the universe under our roof.” Flint grimaced, considering whether to touch it.

“Fear not, Wizard, this Merchant of ours has already learned to self-heal.” There was an uneasy air in Lucius’ tone. “What he says is true though, Alan. The mark is deep and powerful. I surmise you will be channeling treatment often to rid yourself of the pain.”

“Great.” Alan stopped with his crew, facing a wide-trunked tree with sad, dark swirling eyes that seemed to reach inward infinitely.

“It hurts, mon.” The tree winced, its entire trunk half-burnt.

“Looks like it, buddy.” Alan ran his finger down some of the burnt bark.

Boom. Boom.

Yogi stopped and hunched forward, sad to see the forest somewhat destroyed. He then petted the tree’s live branches comfortingly. “This place… strange.”

“You’re not kidding.” Alan peered up to his bear.

“Help me, Flint,” the tree begged. “Can’t sway with my bongos. It’s like living blind, not being able to see nothin’.”

Alan furrowed his brow.

“Ah,” Durger spoke up, and before he could annoy anyone with gibberish, Alan tossed faint Blue Saro streams at the surrounding people. “They must be the watchers of this realm. At Hightower, we had great living beacons at the tops of our castles that scouted for incoming threats.”

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“Quite right, little dagger.” Flint nodded. “Hyndole was sure to open his first rift quietly here, in this forest, with small Saro-infused beasts that blew themselves up to disrupt Mujungo’s sight.”

“War is without rules.” Lucius cycled his fingertips to create a ball of Orange fiery Saro that he whipped at a frozen tree. As it was about to crash, he yanked his hand back like he was pulling an invisible bow, and the flame dispersed evenly to thaw the ice. “The wisest generals know this.”

Alan grew uneasy about that, even if it might be true. Did his friend actually believe that to be a good path?

“Are you suggesting we should be tearing rifts into enemy realms as retaliation?” Flint asked, and when he didn’t receive a response, continued, “Huh, then I surmise we’d be no better than our Jaeger worshippers. Where will it end, my fiery friend?”

From far away, Lucius blew air toward the tree he targeted – using magical wind from his mouth to stoke the flame. Once satisfied, he backhanded the air. “I am not going to discuss theories of conquering with a madman. Besides, this universe will soon no longer be my concern.”

Flint smiled at that and dropped a hand on Lucius’ shoulder. “This universe is the basis of all life, my friend. It will be your concern even if you find an all-powerful board to surf the entire cosmos.”

Alan could see both sides. He shared their sentiments in almost every respect. He wondered, deep down, if Lucius was struggling with the same problem he himself faced – does he value anything here that might be hard to let go of?

“Lucius. Those Stalkers of the cave. They battled valiantly,” Alan said.

“What’s your point?”

The thawed tree yawned like it just woke up, then shook its branches excitedly. “Alright, mon. True life this be feeling. How you doin’ over there, Musto?”

“Seen better days, my brotha’,” a branchless tree called from down the way.

Alan smiled. They were doing something good here. “My point is, they looked up to you as a leader. You provided them fiery steeds to charge into battle with, for god’s sake.”

Lucius grunted and turned away.

“Don’t mind him, Alan. He wrestles with his own conscience more than a whistle-mare with four heads.” Flint delicately pressed his staff against the tree in front of them.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Alan asked.

“Of course – if you have the energy, spread some of that magnificent Green in the spots that have settled. Trace my essence.” Flint pointed.

Alan eyed Durger for the ‘OK’ to summon some Saro. The inscription brightened for him to go ahead.

“Green?” The damaged tree tilted its head. “Figured all of them would be healin’ the moving life first?”

Flint smiled wide. “Alan, here, is no ordinary Saro wielder.”

“We of the trees will take what we can get, mon.”

As Alan inhaled a deep breath, envisioning all of the positive thoughts of his Origin World, Green Saro began to sprout in his fingertips. It was harder to pull without the duress of battle, but concentrating hard and using his pendant as an amplifier, the essence came.

He worked with Flint and Lucius for hours without realizing the passage of time. Seeing each tree, one-by-one, heal from a horrid decrepit state pushed him to continue on, even if his energy depleted.

Clairvoyant frogs began to unfreeze and hop to his location. It started small at first – one or two planting themselves in the dirt and just following Alan with their eyes – but soon, eight were focused solely on him.

“Flint, what the hell?” Alan gulped when he turned around to see wide sets of eyes struggling to remain still. When their chins expanded, each eye turned a different color. “I thought you said not to mind them?”

“Oh my.” Flint jumped back when he turned to see the same. “Strange little critters coming up all together like that. I thought you didn’t like to commune?”

“Arf!” one of the frogs barked.

Alan shut his eyes and shook his head.

“Yes, but doesn’t that interfere with your visions? Scrambles you like a tornado?” Flint responded.

“You speak frog?” Alan frowned, activating his Blue Saro to try and understand, but all the barking and mooing sounded no different.

“Ribbit,” they all spoke in unison, sending chills down Alan’s spine. Then they burped a comic strip with dots all leading to one gigantic bubble. The trees all swayed to see, as did Lucius and Yogi.

Alan’s surroundings went momentarily dark like a movie was about to begin. The frogs’ eyes all brightened, making him wonder whether he was the subject… but those multi-colored spheres faded into the backdrop, leaving just a comic strip blown up to ten times the size of the one he witnessed on his first day.

Deep drums reverberated through his heart, followed by an expanded vision of a crimson sky panning down to overlook that same black citadel he remembered on his first clairvoyant trip. A black-boned dragon with patchy skin scowled at the vision, as if the viewer was a threat. Giant armored beasts pointed their weapons skyward. And there, atop the castle at the center-point of a balcony, stood Alan. Tall, perfect posture. An expression of satisfied evil he would never make, and a giant golden coin he flipped leisurely in his hand.

Alan – the viewer – tensed hard as if his muscles seized. Making eye contact with a conquering, evil version of himself sent shivers snaking down his entire body.

This can’t be real. It’s like Flint said… just a distant nightmare… nothing more.

His body vibrated from the sound of marching footsteps, and the camera panned out again to show a blessed, Yellow Saro army taking up arms to face him. Through a golden portal outstepped angelic-winged Bladeswomen with swords glowing bright. Wizards of White and Orange Saro drew translucent shields around their ranks, and the sight made evil Alan smile in the most bone chilling way imaginable.

“Finally. You’ve come, Father.” Evil Alan showed his teeth, then flipped his golden coin over the balcony like making a wish in a fountain. Immediately after… he leapt off himself.

A giant twelve-horned beast materialized through the coin’s sparks with a massive maw and eyes like a cat’s. Evil Alan cast a spell of Orange Saro whips that tethered him to the beast, and he landed atop it. He pulled hard once the Saro whip was clenched between the monster’s teeth and stood triumphantly as his army progressed forward.

The comic strip went dark, leaving viewer-Alan with his mouth agape in shock.

Father?

Hopefully that was just the name of some god who really let the powers get to his head, and not his actual—

It’s possible though, right? He passed on from Earth, just like me.

A new comic reel began with crimson fog masking silhouettes in the distance. Alan recalled this vision too – the badass version of himself he hoped he was on the way to being. As the fog cleared, he first noticed two ornate daggers at his sides – neither of which were Durger. A long, samurai-style sword rested firmly in a one-handed grip, as he cleaned the blade of a beast’s blood with his other gauntlet.

There was a calmness about this Alan. He took in a deep breath as if he appreciated the air around him. The crimson fog… legend by its own right. How could he be in such a terrifying place?

As more of the mist dissipated, his surroundings became clear. He meditated atop a two-hundred-foot-high, small square column with fresh grass around his enchanted boots. Four blocks of land surrounded him, each crowded with fanged minions that could’ve been people once, but now seemed more werewolf-like.

What was he even doing there?

“Get the Herald! He will not live again!” A particularly nasty wolf-man scowled, drooling red.

Snarling and braying, they leapt at once, from all angles, and that’s when Alan’s entire body glowed with Red Saro. He was still calm despite a hundred beasts soaring to rip him limb-from-limb. He held the sword up to be inches from his nose, and when they were feet away from connecting – claws out – white lashes and blurs circled Alan’s body. Each minion flew back – losing limbs and suffering mortal cuts – while Alan remained seemingly still. Flashes of Variant Saro thundered around him as his incredible power took hold. Claw against metal clashed every now and again, but mostly just sword against flesh… in all directions.

The minions’ cries echoed as they fell deep into the cliffs, as mounds of fog cleared around him in a circumference. And when the last one plummeted, the sword that was seemingly unmoving now dripped with blood. Alan wiped it again, and gently sheathed it at his hip while opening his eyes. A single bead of sweat dripped down his temple, the red glow fading to naught.

He then walked forward on air, using White Saro to create floating ice patches at his feet, heading toward a minion of the same race as the other beasts, only six times the size.

“The Herald will bow to the Crimson.” The beast snickered. “You cannot roam.”

Alan pulled out two small golden coins and flipped them casually to either of his sides, unleashing two ghosts – one burly, hammer-wielding man with a finely spun beard, and a miniature dog.

Viewing-Alan couldn’t believe his eyes. It was Durger, or Dante Durghowler, to be exact, with his pet he thought was lost!

Alan got excited at the prospect. Maybe his over-complimenting guide wasn’t trapped for the rest of his days.

The reel cut out, bringing them right back to the forest of Strangey Town trees. It happened slowly at first, like his mind was rebooting. While he waited for life to return to his vision, he asked the only other living thing around him.

“Durger, did you see?”

“I am at a loss, Sir Alan. My tears leak through metal. It’s him. Sir Ooman! Perhaps his soul isn’t lost.”

The strain in Durger’s voice made Alan choke up a bit. The poor trapped soul went mad trying to resurrect his pet using blessed necromancy, only to damn himself to a weapon forever. Redemption, it seemed, hit hard for Alan.

“Help me get there, Sir Alan… Do not abandon us.”

Alan squeezed his eyes tight at that one. Not only did he feel he owed Durger, but he actually owed Yogi.

“I’ll come back,” Alan whispered. His surroundings fully returned, showing the clairvoyant frogs taking one more, long look at Alan, before flipping away awkwardly – most of which got stuck midair in slow motion.

Flint nearly bowled through them as he came rushing over to Alan, out of breath. “By the umbral lords of Oshun! Gods and Myers! Alan… you walked through the Crimson like it was nothing!”

“Relax, Flint.” Alan tried to grab his flailing arms. He was so excited, Alan was scared he’d accidently cast an ice-encasing spell.

“Now do you understand, Alan?” Lucius folded his arms. “You share company with a selective madman.” He paced over solemnly. “Wizard, did you all but block out the dark version of our savior?”

“The frogs ended on hope.” Flint smiled and spun on Lucius, holding his staff inches from his face. “Do you deny the signs?”

Lucius scoffed. “The dark version took on an army of Yellow Saro wielders—”

“Who were invading him!” Flint rebuked.

“In the darkness of Jaeger’s corner.” Lucius narrowed his eyes.

“You don’t know that. Now who’s reaching?” Flint flapped his cloak.

“Noble Alan never turn bad.” Yogi balled his fist, siding with Flint.

Alan groaned in thought. “What if… it’s not my choice if I turn?”

“What do you mean?” Flint asked, everyone looking to Alan, even the regenerating trees.

“I’m a Merchant in every scenario. What if… I have to make a deal to serve Jaeger or fight an army of my late father’s creation. I have no idea—”

“You take the frogs too seriously, mon. All yous’,” one of the half-burnt trees blurted. “Dees tings be hopping and jumping all over this damn place, making people mad. You in charge of your own destiny, Alan. Don’t let no burping creature tell you otherwise.”

The tree’s words calmed everyone down a notch. It made Alan realize nothing had to happen today. Whatever choices led him down any of those paths, wouldn’t be now, right?

“Alan.” Flint found himself again. “Lucius. You cannot deny his growth. In just a short time, he won himself a Borai.” He motioned up to the giant beast. “Survived an Orange Saro dragon. Used holy Saro to screw up Farante. Alan Right… is legend. He will be a Herald and save our town from inevitable invasion.”

“This will soon be none of your concern. Alan and I are leaving,” Lucius said plainly. “And that will keep Strangey Town safe. Otherwise, Hyndole will chase Mujungo to the ends of the universe until Alan either turns or is killed.”

“I protect noble Alan until last breath. And you are wrong, fire ant, he would never leave his friends to die.”

Yogi’s words were like a punch to Alan’s gut.

But I have to leave. My mom and sister can’t handle life alone. I have unfinished business with Trish…

“I’m with our tree friend,” Alan finally said. “We’re looking way too far ahead. Right now? We’ve got hurt people, and some roughed up trees that need our help.” He looked at his own hands, cycling Green Saro. “So that’s what I’m going to do.”