Commotion picked up all around Alan. The town square was alive with controversy from Flint’s claims and Liustad’s response. Whatever care Alan had for being a good citizen fled with the arrows crashing into the Wizard’s ice barrier.

That Archer was about to kill me if he hadn’t intervened. Flint… Poor guy thinks I’m to be a legend. A Herald of Ojin, or something. That sounds like a large investment in a place I don’t want to be.

You hitched your wagon to the wrong horse, friend. He glanced up at Flint, who was balancing on his oversized robes above the crowd.

Without an ounce of calm since arriving in Strangey Town, Alan saw no better option than to follow the seemingly sane man skulking toward one of the buildings like a shadowy Tarzan. He waited until a group of mages started pumping angry, elemental-charged fists at Flint. The noise provided a perfect opportunity to slip away. So he did.

“Follow closely.” The shadowy man snuck around the outskirts of the crowd. “I will hide you.”

Alan shielded his eyes when the man snapped his fingers, and a flash fire exploded a wooden carriage in the opposite direction they were headed. A diversion.

Alan smiled at the display. Another powerful magic wielder was trying to protect him. Not to mention, he seemed to be the only other person not vested in the town’s chaos. It gave him hope.

Maybe I can get out of here.

He did have second thoughts however, when realizing the structure he was being led to was one of the few ominous caves scrunched between two normal-ish buildings in the town square. Of course it couldn’t be one of the nice, medieval-looking clay houses. That would be too easy. It had to be the one where anyone could stab him from the shadows as soon as he entered.

The man stepped through the entrance first, and to Alan’s dismay, the cave wasn’t only dark, it was covered with a shadowy film that briefly stuck to the man he was following before it swallowed him whole.

Umm. Alan peered back to a group of Wizards angrily holding up their staffs, then to Wisterbeard – the armorer – brandishing the splinters of Liustad’s counterfeit bow.

I did that. I created this madness, he thought, when a hand yanked him into the shadowy film.

He tried to shout, but received a mouthful of black sludge that poked around his gums like an overly sticky candy. His eyes were being tugged on by hungry, slimy hands, and his hair felt like it’d soon be ripped off.

Then in an instant, the film let go and spat him forward.

Alan grasped his throat to make sure he was no longer being strangled, coughing from the lingering tickle, and stared at his surroundings with wide eyes.

“Whoa, what the heck was that?”

“Protection. We of Orange don’t let just anyone in,” the man growled over his shoulder.

People similar to the hunched man leading him were busying around a large open space. From the outside, there was no way the cave could be this big, or this clean. The walls emitted a faint orange glow that kept the space lit like a hearth. To his left was a bar where patrons sat, grunting and chatting with one another over some drinks. To his right were people sitting and eating on the floor around a campfire, and others sparring close by within a ring of sticks.

It was grungy, sure. But it felt more real than the outside did. Could this be a haven from the madness of Strangey Town?

The man leading him stopped and turned to face him.

Alan exhaled with relief. “Finally, a place where everyone hasn’t lost their minds.”

“Raah!” A man charged at the cave wall and began stabbing it. He bit the wall, spat at it, and started stabbing some more.

“Oh, dammit,” Alan sighed.

Shadowy Tarzan narrowed his eyes at Alan while presenting the crazed man. “Mujungo makes us this way.”

“Is he… performing one of his weird tasks? I got one about spitting sand…” Alan asked, unable to look away from the insanity, even though no one else seemed to care.

“No. That man is in a duel, and he’s currently being haunted by a Doomsayer – a class with no shortage of horrible curses. Pay him no mind.”

“I have so many questions…”

“I’ll bet you do.”

They both sat beside a bundle of grey, ashy sticks.

The man placed his hand over them, and a small campfire swirled to life under his palm, making Alan tense. Everyone he encountered seemed to have that magic Flint described.

“Saro?” Alan asked.

“Orange, yes. We all contribute a bit of ours to keep the walls lit. It’s negligible. I can barely even feel it syphoning out of me, yet the benefit is great.” He raised the flame higher, the orange and yellow tongues twisting until they morphed into an impression of galloping horses.

Alan leaned closer, the visual rather breathtaking.

“I was an artist in my home world… I miss my family greatly,” the man said, locking eyes with Alan. “You have that same look about you.”

Alan twisted his lips. “So this is real? I’m not on some terrible drug trip?”

“Afraid not. But that doesn’t mean we all accept our fate. I’m Lucius Kiar.”

“Alan Right.”

“It is a pleasure, Alan.”

He shook Lucius’s hand, feeling he found a sane mind amidst an asylum. Maybe he could finally get this caterpillar off him. He just needed to find the right time to ask. “If we’re trying to leave, isn’t that against Mujungo’s wishes? Won’t we be struck down or something? I mean, if this is what we wake up to when we die… I don’t want to know what’s next.”

“Fear leads to what you witnessed outside. Leave it there.”

“And Mujungo?”

Lucius smiled angrily. “He is a strange god.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“He doesn’t really respond negatively to criticism or hate. And he laughs often, as if he knows how dark it could get out there… As if he’s sure we’ll come crawling back.”

Now they were getting somewhere! Lore. “Out where?” Alan asked.

“The Realm of Ojin.”

Alan took a long breath. “Flint believes I will be a ‘Herald’ of that place.”

Lucius scoffed. “Flint says a lot of things.”

“You aren’t fond of him?”

“Ah.” He shooed the fire as if he were mad at it. “That old Wizard is a product of Mujungo. An example of what happens if you reside here too long. Your surroundings become your new world, if you’re not careful, Alan Right. I hold onto the threads of sanity by anchoring my goal in place. I will get home, to the one I left behind.”

Stolen story; please report.

A twinge grasped Alan’s heart. The pain in Lucius’ eyes made him think of his sister and mother, and even his recent ex-girlfriend. His old life might’ve been in shambles, but there was still goodness in it.

“Are you from Earth?” Alan asked, and Lucius’ orange eyes swirled like rings of flame.

“No. I am from Cerrain. Though, from what I have heard from others, it is like Earth.”

There’s more of us. That’s a relief.

“So this is where we go after we die, even those from other worlds,” Alan said in wonder.

“There are many theories. Stone Chasers of Ojin believe the engraved scriptures they find tell truths about our Origins.”

“What do they say?”

“In so many words? That our Origin Worlds are made from the interlocking realms – Strangey Town included. This place sneezes, and somewhere in another universe, those remnants cool into worlds more orderly than what we experience here. Then, in a cruel twist of fate, we wind up in this madness afterward.”

Alan looked away to a man screaming as he climbed the cave wall with two swords – chasing a shadowy face slithering up it.

“This place… is the edge of creation. Chaos.” Lucius followed Alan’s gaze to the same event. “And I must get back to order.”

“But we have powers here.” Alan played devil’s advocate. “Or at least you do.”

“I would trade all of it for a breath of sanity, which brings me to my ultimate question. Would you?”

Alan thought back to the sentient dreadlock trees, and touchy grass, and taunting clouds. This place was far more horrifying than it was mystical. “Yes. I want out, Lucius. I want my family back. My home. If you have a plan to do that, then I’m with you.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Good.” He dipped his finger into the flame and pulled out an ember dancing on his skin. With a wave of his hand, he placed the tiny flame on the ground between them and willed a maze of fire to life.

Alan tilted his head. It resembled a map of sorts.

“I’ve been chasing the Pegs of Fate ever since I arrived. Items that, when worn together, allow the wearer passage to their Origin World in the vessel they live in here.” Small spheres brightened within the map. “They are scattered in all parts of Ojin – from the harmless light-grey fog to the deep reds. It is said that when these pieces are harnessed, a bridge portal the likes of which have never been fathomed, can stretch across the universe and reach our homes.”

Alan felt a weight lift off his chest at Lucius’ words. They ignited a promise of hope, a solid direction, a real goal he could sink his teeth into – so he could go home. “I’m willing to do my part.”

“Hmph. It will not be so easy, Alan. You will be tested beyond your limits, in ways you never imagined in your first life.”

Alan clenched his jaw. “What other choice do I have? I’m already an enemy to this town.”

“Not the whole town,” Lucius corrected.

“No. That’s true. I’m grateful for you and Flint.”

Lucius dissolved the fiery map. “You are right though. We must get you out of here, Alan. Fast. Ojin will be a good escape until Liustad’s anger dies down.”

Alan looked over his shoulder, which made Lucius cackle.

“You are safe here. He wouldn’t dare disturb a Stalker’s cove.”

“Right,” Alan pretended to understand. “So, this Ojin. What is it, exactly?”

“A realm of realms. Owned by no god, yet sought by all. A realm that makes warriors, and simultaneously breaks them. Once you get there, Alan, you will understand what it means to experience fear, and all the spoils of overcoming it.”

“Uhh, this place did that job just fine.”

“No. It is not the same. Here, there is a sense of protection, albeit with a zany overbearing environment to manage. There, you must face foes to gain Titles, to become stronger, to unlock the Fog of War so you can one day explore the darkest corners of Ojin and become a powerful warrior—”

“I don’t want any of that, Lucius. I just want to go home to my family, and to show the woman who betrayed me that I’m not a useless pile of bricks.”

“Home is not found by pressing a button, Alan. It will take time. By then, you won’t have to try very hard to prove that woman your worth.”

Just then, Alan focused on Lucius’ armor and began to fall into a trance. He envisioned swamps of black, sticky liquid disturbed by giant tentacles swinging horizontally from upside-down trees. The appendages spewed gas, and Alan could almost smell its putrid stench. Like rotten eggs. Things got weirder from there. Sirens – mermaid-like creatures with wide toothy smiles – sprung up from the swamp and backstroked through the water, bathing in the gas like they were being showered in gold. As soon as the mist touched them, they turned to statues and broke, somehow maintaining buoyance while floating toward the edges.

Alan snapped back, understanding something about Lucius’ pauldrons and… sideburns? They were alive, crafted by the same odd stone drifting to the ends of the swamp he envisioned.

“Where did you go just now?” Lucius parted the flame to the shape of a twirled mustache, framing Alan.

“I—”

“It was the same as when you called out that Archer,” Lucius said. “Like you awoke from a dream.”

“Your armor…” Alan sensed it wriggling in place. He inched back when it dripped down Lucius’ bare abs, molding into a skin-tight black suit that thickened as it cooled – like lava.

“What about it?” Lucius tilted his head. His sideburns formed over his face to resemble a ninja’s mask, and his eyes glowed even more orange when the armor locked in place, leaving a breathy smoke in its wake.

“It’s alive.”

“Perceptive. That, it is.” Lucius smirked, and retracted the armor like rain rushing up glass.

Hesitation came over Alan. He wondered whether something living like that could somehow influence the wearer. In fact, he understood his worry stemmed from the same instincts that told him the origins of the armor.

For now, Alan kept that part to himself.

“Merchants aren’t normally able to tell that on a whim. And you… just got here.” Lucius lifted his chin, judging him.

Alan shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Hm. Perhaps what Flint saw…”

Alan shook his head, then squirmed when the caterpillar stabbed his back. “Shit! Can you do something about this? Please?” He flung off Flint’s white cloak to reveal the caterpillar.

“Of course.” Lucius dug into his bag – which magically appeared. Alan noticed an endless amount of perfectly organized items when Lucius opened it. He dug out a chrome-colored potion contained in a clear vial, and tossed it to him. “Drink it.”

Alan wanted more than anything to be free of the caterpillar, and the cement leaf on his junk. He popped the cork, and just as he was about to chug it, he stopped.

“Don’t trust me?” Lucius arced an eyebrow.

“It’s not that,” Alan said.

“Then?”

“I don’t like to be indebted to others. Let me trade you something in return.”

Lucius laughed. “You have nothing that I could possibly want.”

Alan glanced at his cloak. He entered a split-second trance and realized what it was he’d been given. He tugged at it. “How about this?”

Lucius snorted again. “That? It is a mere Wizard’s conjuring that will fade in a night. I have no use for—”

“This can be broken down into White Saro essence, which I understand is a big part of enchantments.” He knew the white essence was more valuable than the vial, but in reality, it wasn’t. Because if he was to wind up like that sad, floating sack of a man he witnessed on the slipstream, he would be in hell.

More so, he didn’t apply the same indebtedness logic to Flint, because he felt he didn’t owe Flint anything. They were even steven after he paraded Alan into town and turned all unwanted eyes on him.

“Very well. But only if you add these to the deal.” Lucius tossed him cloth rags that resembled a commoner’s uniform from medieval times. “I don’t need to know you that well once you chug that potion.”

Alan stood with a smile, elated to soon be rid of the haunting things attached to him. People sitting nearby eyed him with disdain, but Lucius hissed at them to mind their business.

“You let in an outsider.” A woman bared her fangs at Lucius.

“And you suckle at our hard earned Saro without putting in any of your own. Silence, Rita,” he hissed again. “Mind yourself.” He then nodded for Alan to proceed.

Alan pulled on the rags and folded the cloak neatly for Lucius to receive.

“So formal.” Lucius grinned as he yanked the cloak and unsummoned it into a white circular mist that tethered to his hand. He stuffed it into his bag and folded his arms. “Well?”

Alan took a deep breath, ignoring the prompt in his vision:

Mujungo wants to tickle you all over for making your first trade with a citizen of Strangey Town!

Come outside so he can have a go.

Title: Low Merchant of Strangey Town

Steps taken to unlock next Title:

1/3

He gulped the potion down, shivering not only from the cool sensation, but what the god wanted to do to him just for playing fair with his new acquaintance.

Clunk. The heavy leaf smashed against the floor and the caterpillar mewed in dismay as it unstitched from his body one leg at a time.

The woman scoffed at the disgusting items now on the floor. Lucius ignited laces of fire that crisscrossed through his shadowy armguard and burst out of it like tongues of flame from hell. Both items were incinerated in a flash, and the fire smothered with a snap of Lucius’ fingers.

Damn, that’s cool. Alan gaped at the cinder. I wonder if I can learn to do that.

After a moment of awe, a sigh of relief escaped him. I’m free. He flexed his back to the painful sensation of raw skin rapidly healing, then looked down to the caterpillar corpse.

“What would’ve happened if you didn’t kill it?” he asked.

Lucius scoffed. “Same thing that happens to all parasitic life created by Mujungo, it would find someone else to drain.”

Alan was about to ask a clarifying question about this ‘draining.’ Just what the heck had that thing been doing to him! But Lucius rose with his finger raised.

“That’s enough questions for now, Alan. You are free from affliction. Now begins your first step toward true catharsis. We have to sneak you out of the town square and toward Ojin. To do so, you must first complete Mujungo’s quest.”

“But… isn’t that counterintuitive? How is that a step toward home?”

“We all must play if we are to find our way out of the maze, Alan Right. Liustad will be after you. So first things first, you must obtain a weapon to defend yourself. Come, I will lead you to strength.”