Frank finally felt himself drift off to sleep, certain nothing dangerous was around when he noticed small nocturnal prey animals playing and foraging in the brush. He expected one of two things as he let himself relax. Fresh nightmares, or a deep relaxing sleep without dreams. That was why he was pleasantly surprised to wake up on a tatami mat in the middle of the strange mixed architecture castle Sir Granspier lived in. He took a moment to breathe in the earthy, relaxing scent of incense wafting through from the dojo hall.

It was a far cry from the smell of the forest back in reality, with the strong floral scents and the smell of the wet soil. It wasn't a bad scent, unlike the strange smell the goblins gave off. Frank couldn't quite place it, it was almost like the scent of an egg but rotten. He knew he'd smelled it once before, but where? Scents tend to trigger memories easily in many people, but Frank still couldn't place it.

Frank sighed and sat up, then left the room he had been laying in. He began walking through a stone hallway lined by brilliant stained glass windows on one side, and thick wall tapestries on the other. They were depicting all manner of creatures and battles that could easily have been straight from a medieval castle on Earth. Frank knew they weren't, however, when he spied elves, orcs, and other strange non-human beings as prominent characters in his quick passing glances.

'Where is Granspier from, anyway?' Frank thought to himself.

The old knight "spoke" with a strange accent that Frank couldn't quite place. It was almost like a bastardized mix-up that took cues from Irish, German, and French accents. It was all through telepathy though, and Frank wasn't even sure Granspier spoke English. Now that he had practice with [Limited Telepathy], the fresh faced scout knew that even goblins could talk to him if he wanted them to. He wondered if the strange appearance of Granspier's castle came from the natural style of his homeland, or if this was part of Frank's subconscious idea for what a famous monster slayer's house would look like.

The hallway took another turn and Frank followed his nose to the growing scent of the incense. A few doors down it was much stronger, he opened the door and found the training hall that was now familiar to him. As usual, the wizened old knight was kneeling in prayer in front of the altar. When he heard Frank close the sliding paper door, Granspier stood up and blessed himself with a sign of the cross.

The familiar ringing of telepathic contact rang in Frank's ears and he accepted it readily.

The knight ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair and took a seat on a cushion on the outer edge of the arena, then motioned for Frank to come sit beside him. His student eagerly sat beside him and sighed.

Frank thought back bitterly to his fight, sending along his memories of being under the effects of [Chains of Submission].

Granspier processed Frank's response and thought for a little while, scratching his beard as he did.

His look of concern and skeptical tone made Frank's face flush a little.

Frank turned his whole body to face his mentor, shocked that the man didn't know about guns. This set off a flurry of questions in Frank's mind.

'Where is Granspier from? Is it another time, or another world entirely? They sound like they have magic there. Were the tapestries outside showing stories from Granspier, or was this a place set up by the System for us to meet?' Either way, the gap in Granspier's knowledge told Frank that the man was more than a dream character, and it also explained the lack of guns in his training hall. He simply didn't know about them, so none were available here.

Frank nervously smoothed out the wrinkles in the grey and green training tunic he found himself wearing as he awaited Sir Granspier's answer. He hadn't questioned why his clothes had changed before whenever he came to this dream realm, but going out of his way to nervously clutch and fidget with them now gave Frank a strange feeling. It was like looking down at your body and seeing you are wearing different clothes in virtual reality, but then feeling them to find they're entirely real to the touch. Back in the waking world, Frank was wearing camouflage hunting gear and a combat harness over a stab proof vest. The weight difference alone was staggering and he almost felt naked with just the comfortable shirt and pants.

The old knight smiled and a twinkle of pride shone in his eye as he traced his fingers over the emblem of crossed arrows in front of a tree on his uniform.

The pair stood and began warming up for sword drills and sparring, as they had done before. Frank had a concern eating at the back of his mind, one that got in the way of him telling Granspier about Earth.

There it was again, that term. The "blessings of heaven", the "curse" as the fallen goblins called it, but on Earth and in the Akashic Records it was called the System. Why? What was it, really?

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Frank had to really think about it as he stretched and drilled with his favorite sword in Granspier's armory, the knight himself waiting patiently for his student to collect his thoughts.

What could he compare Earth to with what little knowledge he had about Tomaris? They had magic, Earth didn't until recently. It was a basic fact, but an easy one to start with.

Granspier grunted in acknowledgement,

Frank turned and focused on a few drills he was less adept at.

Frank sent along thoughts of early colonial era armies that would march in firing lines with muskets, pirates boarding ships with pistol and cutlass, firing off a massive blunderbuss or the exotic looking duckfoot pistol.

Granspier sent forth an image of a short, very hairy and thickly bearded man loading a shimmering marble into a strange looking musket with a beautiful design of some sort of mountain range along the barrel and stock that seemed to be surrounded by small, intricate script work.

When the dwarf aimed at the sky, he seemed to channel some of his energy into the weapon, the words lit up in a bright blue and the blue pebble shot out of the barrel and into the air creating a fireworks display that seemed less like the sort on Earth and more like a hologram being played in the air that grew hazy before the pebble pulsed in the center of the image to reveal another piece of art to a cheering crowd. Frank smiled at the idea of taking his family to see a dwarven fireworks display someday when this war was over.

Frank frowned, the concept seemed very unusual and he felt it unfair that normal humans couldn't take refuge on another safely held world until the invasion was fought back.

Granspier pointed to his stomach, roughly where his core would be. The spiritual wellspring must be what he called a core.

Frank nearly dropped his sword, he was dumbfounded. The same idea held true on Earth, but it was explained away as the overactive imaginations or misunderstandings of children who didn't understand things they saw in the dark. Could it have been something more that people simply live with back home? Or was the spiritual energy on Earth so thin and weak that people could explain away ghosts and supernatural occurrences easily without it becoming a larger problem? This would explain why Frank wasn't given a quest to go into a portal until he had formed his core with the help of the system.

What would happen to his family if they didn't quickly form some sort of core or magical defense of their own? He stammered through the next question on his mind.

Frank gulped down his worries as the old knight stroked his beard.

Frank fell to his knees, the wolfman he fought in the forest before he left Earth wasn't what he thought he was. Gerald wasn't an Awakened with shapeshifting powers, he was a fallen human whose mutation turned him into a type of werewolf! That explained everything! It made sense why there was a quarantine around Cedar City, why there was no media coverage about it. Gerald was one of many potential fallen who had been turned into something else by the portals opening into Cedar City. Frank had no idea what the fallout from this could be, he needed to tell someone! His whole family could be in danger and he had to contact them!

Frank began to hyperventilate as his thoughts raced, before he knew it he was at the door to the arena and shaking as he tried to tear it open. He heard a whoosh of air and felt a firm hand smack him across the face, then twice more for good measure.

"Huh?" Frank blurted out

Granspier let go of his student, then gently guided him to the altar he was always found at.

Frank turned suddenly to the old knight, with tears in his eyes. Sir Granspier returned the look with a smile.