Xandir’s exasperated eyes gradually fell into a deadpan expression, almost like he’d given up trying to take Cog seriously.

“What planet do you think we’re on?” Xandir asked.

“Earth..?” Cog said, tentatively.

Xandir blinked.

“You think we’re on… Earth.”

“Um… Yes.”

“A planet. Called. ‘Earth’.”

“That’s what I said.”

He somehow gave Cog a more intense deadpan stare.

“And you’re sticking with that?” he asked. Cog nodded.

“You’re sure?” Xandir said. His eyes held a glint of genuine concern.

“I am certain that I’m from a planet called Earth, yes. Unless I somehow warped across the cosmos, I’m pretty sure I’d still be on it.”

Xandir was silent for a long moment, causing Cog to raise an eyebrow in his direction.

“I’m going out on a limb here,” he muttered, “and assuming we’re not on Earth.”

Xandir pinched his brow through the bag, sighing in defeat.

“Either you’re being truthful, or you’re messing with me. Can’t read an aura that doesn’t exist, so I’ll have to take you at your word…”

He straightened his coat before continuing.

“We are on a planet called Æthoun.”

Cog’s gut dropped in an instant. Now it was his turn to wonder if Xandir was the one messing with him.

“Æthoun?” he asked.

Xandir nodded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, before a notebook seemed to appear in his hands out of nowhere. He retrieved a pen in much the same way - a clearly normal, stationary pen, which surprised Cog - before skimming through the leather-bound pages.

Then, Xandir licked his finger through the bag, turning the page.

The spot where his tongue visibly moved beneath the mask was bone dry, and Cog’s curiosity reached a boiling point.

“I’m sorry.” Cog said. “I know this is off topic, but what the hell even is that mask?”

“...Whaddya mean?” Xandir asked, and Cog nearly pulled a muscle, head whipping to face the man.

“What do I mean!?” Cog said. “What I mean is, your mask is an abomination of nature! It looks like a paper bag, and I swear I’ve heard it crinkle like one, but it’s very obviously not made out of paper.” Throughout his exasperated tangent, Cog’s good hand flew about wildly, every other motion a gesture to Xandir’s mask. “Why are you even wearing that thing? I can’t imagine it’s anything too horrific under there - if there was, the odds are your speech would be hindered, and your inflection is impeccable! Seriously, the fuck?”

There was a brief pause in Xandir’s gait, punctuated by a pregnant silence.

“You have an interesting idiolect.” Xandir said, then continued walking.

“You..! I…!” Cog sputtered, again aggressively gesturing to Xandir’s bag, before finally heaving a mighty sigh of discontentment.

“Alright, fine,” he said. “Another time, though?”

“Another time.” Xandir said, a smile’s presence making itself known through his voice. Cog felt the corners of his mouth twitch up slightly.

“So, uh… What was in your notes?”

“A theory for your situation.” Xandir said, Cog’s attention immediately caught.

“Really?” he said. “I wanna hear this.”

“Well,” Xandir explained, “Putting it as plainly as I know how, your soul could have been pulled here by some extraplanar magical means. Some massive event on the scale of a supernova or planetary collapse. You know what those are, correct?”

Cog nodded, the start of a smile fading as the realization of his current predicament finally unfurled. It took him a long moment to gather his thoughts.

“So… really not on Earth,” he muttered, kicking the dirt as he started walking again. “That sucks. I’m gonna have to learn a whole bunch of new shit, which is going to be a massive pain.”

“It’s not so bad here, and the vast majority of people I’ve met are quite amenable. Maybe this place is better than your own world..?” Xandir said, nudging optimism into the question.

“I hope so, though that’s not exactly a high bar.” Cog said.

“Well,” Xandir said, gesturing to a footpath only then coming into view. “Let’s go find my carriage and the rest of the research expedition members, and I’ll answer any questions you have for me. Your system should cover most of it, and it’s made to help your mind understand the metaphysical. I don’t think being from another universe would change that, but just in case, I’ll be your own personal starting guide.”

“That… would be incredible! Thank you so much!” Cog said, letting out a breath.

“We will, however, have to heal your arm at a nearby outpost. It’s only a handful of miles out.” Xandir replied.

“A few miles?” Cog sighed, looking out over the rocky path before them. He wearily braced himself for what would inevitably be a painfully bumpy ride.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xandir led Cog to a large vehicle, unlike anything he’d seen before. The doors reminded him of a refrigerator, rubber seals on the inside and all. The material they were made from was a bizarre, yellow-green metal he hadn’t seen before, said metal extending its use to the overall body of the vehicle. Its gothic interior was sporting shades of green, black and bronze, providing an earthy appearance. The overall shape of the vehicle was close to an oddly elongated Volkswagen Beetle, and it moved on what Cog could only describe as economy-grade tank treads. There were plenty of seats inside - just at a glance, he saw six excluding the driver and passenger - and counted three occupants.

The first, an alabaster-skinned woman with hair as black as night and eyes of a vibrant royal purple, inspected him with intense trepidation. Her ornate violet and gold cloak fully covered her body, and a pair of pointy ears stood straight out of her locks, which were currently tied back in a rushed bun. Her face held a soft but elegant appearance, with narrow features which were still somehow rounded. Cog was unsure if she looked more like an elf or a vampire, but kept the curious observation to himself.

The second was another woman, but this one was tan and muscular. Her vibrant red-orange hair was tied back into a ponytail, and her eyes were a dazzling powder blue. Her outfit - a lightweight blouse that matched her eyes and a pair of what could only be described as medieval yoga pants - didn’t do much to hide her well-toned body. Her face was more chiseled than the first woman’s, though not by much, and was certainly no less flattering. She gave Cog a friendly smile that didn’t meet her eyes, clearly human features tensed in a trepidatious manner.

Finally, the third person was a hulking, green-skinned man with ears less tall but far more wide than the first woman’s own. His long, dusty brown hair was also tied into a ponytail, though far more sloppily than the redhead’s. His eyes were a sparkling magenta color, and his facial features reflected his heavily muscular frame in their broad angles. He wore nothing but a pair of pants - very similar to the redhead’s own, though gray instead of brown - with a yellow belt tied around it. His arms were crossed, looking at Cog with an eyebrow raised. Like the bleach white woman, his ears were pointed; however, while the woman’s were angled practically straight up and slightly back, the man’s were more like a goblin’s; broader, pointed but not angular, and angled outwards more.

Each of the individuals was holding packs that didn’t differ in anything but color. The pale woman’s own was ornate and green - clashing harshly with her outfit - while the green man and redhead both had a yellow one, the latter pristine and well-kept with the former being scorched, caked with mud and torn in a few dozen places. Otherwise, their hands were empty and their eyes were fully trained on the pech.

Cog swallowed hard, looking up to Xandir for some help, and the latter turned to face the trio.

“Everyone, this is Cog. He’s a pech with a man’s soul in it. That, or a very bizarre mutation and transformation combination. Still haven’t quite figured it out yet, though I’m leaning towards the former.”

He turned back to Cog.

“Cog, these are my assistants.”

“Partners!” The green man bellowed, his voice sporting something akin to a light Brooklyn accent. Xandir rolled his eyes.

“Assistants,” he corrected. “We’ve been over this, Braune; I pay you. That alone means we aren’t partners; I’m your boss, and you’re my employee.”

“Yeah-huh. And who goes on all the missions, Xandir? Who gathers up the money you pay us with? Who goes with us in the field every damn time?”

Xandir peered at Braune through narrowed eyes for a long moment.

“So the redhead is Noelle, the dracht is Olga, and the big man here is Braune.”

Olga gave a curt nod to Cog, and Noelle gave a warm smile and small wave.

Braune just laughed, hearty voice booming. Xandir let the large man chuckle for a little while before gently tapping his shoulder.

“Braune, didn’t you say you would drive us back?” Xandir cooed, and Braune rolled his eyes as he stood, laughter still spilling from his grinning mouth.

“I lost a bet, so yeah.” Braune said, climbing out of his seat. The vehicle visibly tilted as he stood up, and Cog was slack-jawed at the man rising before him. Braune had to be at least seven and a half feet tall, and it didn’t look like he should have been able to get inside the cabin at all. He scratched his back as he shuffled to the driver’s side, gently opening the door and swinging himself inside, once more shaking the entire vehicle. Even after he’d closed the door, Cog could see him trying to adjust the front seat to accommodate himself through a small window in between the cab and back seats. The pech turned back to face Xandir.

“He’s, uh… a big guy.” Cog said. “A really big guy.”

He shook his head, remembering something else Xandir had said.

“What’s a dracht?” Cog asked.

“It’s a species of sapient humanoid here.” Xandir said. “They’re tall, slender, etherically beautiful compared to the other races-”

He was interrupted with a metal mug pegging him right between the eyes.

“-and tend to have much shorter fuses.” he finished, turning to glare at Olga.

“What’d I tell you about stating the obvious?” she said, huffing. She spoke with a European accent one might expect from the cast of any medieval movie or TV show. It did have a minor twinge of French that Cog only picked up on after a few seconds.

“You’re mad at me for complimenting your species,” Xandir said, crossing his arms. “That’s hardly a call for violence.”

“I could always use one of those porcelain mugs instead.” Olga retorted.

“You could also… not throw mugs.” Xandir countered. Olga thought about it, shrugged, and nailed Xandir between the eyes with another metal mug. He seemed unphased physically - he didn’t even blink - though his mental state was clearly something else altogether. It only occurred to Cog then that he hadn’t seen where Olga had gotten the mugs from. Noelle snorted.

“Olga, calm down,” she said, seemingly pulling a bottle out of thin air. Cog could barely make out the small font on its label.

[94-Proof Droplet Alcohol]

He blinked. That was a very, very potent drink, assuming their alcoholic proofs were the same as back home. He then realized the implications of how it could actually be the same grading system from back home, which meant this world had parallels to his own. While providing a measure of comfort, Cog absently wondered if mages in this world had higher durability than implied in role playing games on Earth, drifting towards thoughts of contrasts between realms before being abruptly dragged from his ponderings with a loud snap of Noelle’s fingers.

“Well?” she said, corners of her mouth turning slightly further up. She shook the bottle slightly, urging Cog to take it. The motion was punctuated by an engine roaring to life, the cabin vibrating slightly as the vehicle quickly warmed up. With a sudden lurch that did not recur, they began to move down the gravelly path.

“You do have access to Chroma, right?” Xandir asked, holding up a hand to keep Noelle from passing the alcohol to Cog. “It’s made with magic, so being magicless could put your life at risk.”

“Ooh, yeah… good point,” Noelle said. “We almost never deal with people who don’t have any magic yet, so it isn’t something I’d considered.”

The pair turned to look at Cog.

“I, uh… I don’t have magic, and I’ve never had a drop of alcohol before in my life,” he muttered, blushing slightly more. He quickly added, “I’d prefer to keep it that way, if that’s alright?”

It was a bit embarrassing to admit he wasn’t a drinker, and more than a bit concerning to be surrounded by people who were. Flashes of his grandma’s violent drunkard stories slipped into his mind.

Blessedly, Noelle just shrugged and tossed the bottle to Xandir.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“To each their own, that’s what I say.” Noelle said, pulling out a second for herself.

She ripped the top off with her teeth, and Cog quickly realized the bottle caps weren’t twist-offs. The simple action made his own teeth ache, and he shuddered involuntarily.

“You alright, little guy?” Noelle asked. He nodded.

“Just… not a fun time to imagine prying a sealed metal cap off of a glass bottle with my teeth.”

Noelle burst into a fit of laughter, and Olga smirked. Cog blinked, waited for them to stop, then continued.

“Is it because of your stats?”

Xandir paused mid-drink, looking at him consideringly.

“You know about stats?”

“I know a little bit about them. I read through mine while stuck in the cave. Also,” Cog said, turning to point a finger at Noelle, then at Olga, “Why didn’t you two ask me why I could talk? Xandir made me think it was unheard of.”

“Communicators,” she said, pulling a far fancier bottle than the other two out of nowhere, then flicking the top right off. She then took out a wine glass and poured a swamp green fluid that smelled like mint and ginger into it before delicately sipping at it.

“Ah.” Cog said, watching her go through the motions. The scent hit his nose like a semi, and it crinkled before he involuntarily shook. He’d always had a strong sense of smell, and it seemed like this body amplified that by a notable amount.

Then, he blinked.

“Wait, what’s a communicator?” he asked.

“It’s a little device we use to send messages to each other from a large distance away. The current range is about five miles,” Xandir said, Noelle nodding along. Cog put a hand under his nose like he was trying to hold back a sneeze, silently wishing Olga would put the beverage away. The other bottles smelled like fruity beer, sure, but they were nowhere near the level of Olga’s drink. It didn’t smell bad, per se, but it was just so strong…

“Come now, Olga, put the dracht liquor away. The poor thing’s about to get a migraine,” Noelle chided, and Olga rolled her eyes, the bottle and glass vanishing into thin air - she hadn’t even finished half of the liquid.

The smell lingered for a half minute longer before, finally, Cog felt his senses return to a somewhat neutral state. He sighed, sinking into his seat.

“Thank you…” he mumbled, giving Olga a brief nod of thanks. She simply shrugged. Xandir looked ready to say something, but Noelle held up a hand.

“You must have questions for us.” Noelle said, giving Cog another warm smile. “We’ll answer them the best we can, so just ask away!”

Cog nodded, taking a couple of deep breaths before scratching his chin.

“I guess my first question is if these vehicles are safe? I got jumped by some feline menace with, what… six mouths? I’d honestly feel safer on foot unless they can’t touch this thing; I’d rather not deal with another one while trying to crawl out from a heap of wreckage.”

“This car is about as safe as you can get without special military authority,” Xandir said, gesturing to the cabin around them. “Two inches of solid orichalcum wrapping two inches of mythril, which is lined with enchanted padding and cushions. Things can get in here, but they’d need to be of an extraordinarily high threshold and, at that point, being in the car or being outside of it wouldn’t matter anyways.”

“That… is somehow less comforting than the lightning.” Cog said, gently touching his scabbing and cauterized wound before flinching. “You guys have a first aid kit in here or something? I don’t wanna risk infection.”

“Unfortunately, no.” Noelle said. “We were actually on our way to restock this Clanker before we got the call about you.”

“Call?” Cog asked, then put up a hand when Olga went to speak, a telling smirk on her face. “Yeah, I know communicators exist, thank you. I’m more curious about who and why. Not to be rude,” he added, shrinking back into his seat from the hostile glare Olga flashed him. Her face returned to a bored, neutral expression shortly thereafter.

“Ah, that’s having to do with our line of work.” Noelle said.

“Which is..?” Cog asked.

“Paranormal and Metaphysical Investigators.” Xandir said. “PMIs, for short.”

Cog snorted aloud, causing a lot of eyebrow raises aimed in his direction.

“Sorry,” he said, looking down at his hands. “It’s just… this is all so ridiculous to me, and the thought of paranormal investigators in a fantasy world, at least in comparison to my own, it just… I dunno. It kind of slipped out. Sorry again.”

“No need to apologize.” Noelle said, gently patting his good shoulder. “We get how stressful this kind of thing can be. It’s why we do what we do, in fact.”

“It’s quite rare,” Xandir added, “but if we find anyone without Chroma in the midst of magical events, we’re also to ensure they’re set up for success in this world to at least a small degree. It’s a part of our job these days, with the danger escalating and all.” He scratched his chin.

“Although, I’m not sure you exactly count as people.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m people.” Cog said, and despite the phrasing initially being a joke, something deep inside him abruptly shifted. It felt like it was deeper in his subconscious than his mind could observe, and he shuddered slightly.

“Don’t you mean ‘a person’?” Olga asked, an eyebrow raised.

“I know what I said.”

Olga and Noelle shared a glance, then both turned to face Xandir. He shrugged.

“Don’t look at me. I just offered a theory I’d heard about that could fit. Everything I sent you over the communicators is everything I could think of.”

“Wait, a theory?” Cog asked. “A theory on what?”

“How you got here, of course.”

“What theory would that be? I know you mentioned something about my soul earlier. Was that related?”

“It’s not exactly-”

“We could possibly use it to find me a way back home!”

“Well, I-”

“Is it, like, an extradimensional pocket deal? A black hole transportation situation, or a wormhole? Maybe a-”

“Okay, I am definitely the wrong person to answer those questions,” Xandir said, waving his arms in front of himself. “I don’t know the fine details of the theory, and I don’t want to make assumptions that could get anyone into ankle-deep shit. Besides, my specialty isn’t related to interdimensional travel. Or intradimensional travel. It’s how magic grows and develops.” He straightened his suit jacket with a quick tug, then turned back to Cog. “Sorry, but I don’t want to raise a stink over you if I don’t have to. I need definitive proof before anything else.”

“What would raise a stink? What proof?” Cog asked, and Xandir pinched his brow in response.

“We really need to get this guy to the office,” Olga said, gesturing to Cog with a snort. “He’s giving Xandir an aneurysm.”

“It’s fine, it’s all fine…” Xandir muttered, taking a deep breath before turning to Cog. “Alright, I’ll tell you what I know about it, but take it with a grain of salt, okay?”

Cog nodded vigorously, leaning in to listen, and Xandir sighed.

“Basically, if what happened is what I thought, then you’re something known as an ‘Arnik’, which is derived from an old world language; the word it’s pulled from means ‘Jailer’. They enter a sort of commensalism with a random humanoid individual sporting power significant enough to support the Arnik‘s soul, and it’s always the closest suitable vessel that the soul possesses out of reflex. The Arnik then suppresses the soul of the living being, making the body its own and either feeding off of, pushing out, or otherwise permanently suppressing the body’s original soul. For all intents and purposes, it’s a form of slaughter.”

Xandir rubbed his eyes wearily, pausing for a few seconds to let the information sink in.

“The issues rise with protestors who want the civic authority to punish those who become an Arnik, simply due to the fact they murdered someone. They don’t even take into account how it’s not a choice for anyone involved; it’s a simple matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Social studies are more Noelle’s expertise, though.”

Noelle nodded, picking up the explanation.

“A lot of people think that the souls of both sides should be immediately set free and returned to the Grand Convergence. Olga can tell you about that when I’m done if you like, but I digress. The point is, they see both parties as lost causes due to the nature of their souls. It’s an odd paradox where we know the inherent traits of a soul, but anyone you ask with any form of religion that opposes what those souls naturally do will tell you that only purely evil souls can become Arnik, right up there with baby stabbers and terrorists. They think that, so long as the souls return to the Grand Convergence in a timely manner, they can be purified in their journey. It’s all a load of rubbish; there’s no ‘good’ or ‘evil’ in souls, just survival instincts and magic.”

“And personality.” Olga pointed out, Noelle nodding.

The pair turned to look at Cog, whose face was blank and clearly struggling with comprehension. He was muttering unintelligible questions about morality and souls.

“Did we break him?” Noelle asked, concerned.

“If he really is an Arnik,” Xandir said, “Then he must have come from a world with very little magic, or he would have possessed a member of a sentient species. Probably means he has no clue what really happens in death, or what souls truly are. I’ll make sure to explain it to him later.”

The cabin was filled with silence for a long moment before Cog once again breathed deeply, rubbing his face. When he didn’t talk for another long moment, Xandir adjusted himself slightly.

“Listen, Cog,” he said. “I can understand your confusion and insecurity about these new truths, but we can all assure you-”

“Assure me of your existence as figments of my imagination? Maybe somehow provide proof you’re all real and this isn’t some desperate fever dream?” Cog retorted, voice snapping sharply. “If this is a dream, I want to wake up right goddamn now. I’ve had more than enough doubts in my life, and I don’t need a squad of delusional hallucinations to amplify them!” He ran a hand over his face, aggression melting into an intense weariness.

“I don’t know what more we can tell you.” Olga said, shrugging. “You just summarized our own truths, and if you think you’re schizophrenic, that’s your business.”

Cog paused.

“You know what schizophrenia is?” he asked, causing the pale woman to raise an eyebrow.

“Yes. It’s a very disturbing mental disease.”

“Huh.” Cog said, pausing to consider for a moment before vigorously shaking his head. “No, no, no. You only know what schizophrenia is because I know what it is. Because you’re delusions in my head. You aren’t going to drive me insane, because this is all a hallucination of my subconscious or something. A delusion long-lived by my unconscious perception.”

Xandir turned to Cog, eyes revealing a slightly sympathetic gaze.

“How can it be a dream if you’re this lucid?” Xandir asked.

Cog froze. He hadn’t considered that, and took stock.

His mind felt as though it were properly functioning, though without his typical flighty tendencies. He hadn’t realized just how in-the-moment he was, or how clearly his brain thought since arriving in Æthoun. He thought back to when he was prepared to accept the world as real to ensure his safety, but as soon as his beliefs and fundamental understandings of the universe were called into question, his brain went into overdrive to explain why that just wasn’t possible. It hadn’t realized it was functioning far better than normal, and it locked up his string of excuses. Even the pain in his arm was agonizingly real, but unable to disrupt his thoughts any more than a tap on his shoulder might. Not even a lucid dream could explain this; even in the few he’d had on Earth, Cog had moments when his mind became foggy throughout them.

Not once since his arrival had he felt so much as a particle of haze cross through his conscious ponderings.

“It… can’t be. It can’t be a dream, can it?” Cog said aloud, turning to Xandir. “That’s how I knew what to do with the cat thing. Why I wasn’t completely freaking out when I first woke up.”

“The cat thing is called a Fialtog, and the way you killed it is still a story I want to hear,” Xandir said.

“I even knew to look through what I could within the system when it started up for me…” Cog continued, not registering Xandir’s comment. The latter shrugged and gestured to Noelle, who snapped her fingers and clapped loudly a few times. Cog jumped, eyes blinking rapidly.

“Let’s not slip into our own mind yet, aye?” Noelle said gently.

Cog nodded, shifting in his seat.

“So, off topic question, but… Chroma? Is that, like… magic or something?” he asked.

“Pretty much.” Olga said with a smirk. “Don’t say Chroma itself is magic in front of Xandir, though - he’ll chew you out about how it ‘isn’t entirely accurate’, even though it really is.”

Xandir shot a glare at Olga, who chuckled softly.

“Alright, so let’s set magic on the side for now, because that’s a whole new bag of worms,” Cog said, pinching his temples. “Can we go back to the call? You got a call from someone to come see where I most likely phased into this new universe. What do you do when you’re at one of these paranormal scenes?”

“Well,” Xandir said, “we first make sure to secure the Sioramoeba if possible.”

“Those are half-sentient single celled organisms that are about twice the size of Braune,” Olga said, and Cog felt his gut twist into a pretzel. Seeing the look on his face, she laughed.

“It’s only dangerous if you get too close, and they’re relatively slow. A toddler could outrun it.”

“Jesus Christ…” Cog muttered.

“Who?” Xandir asked.

“Nobody pertinent to the conversation,” Cog said, then gestured for Xandir to continue.

“If we can’t catch it quickly - we’re granted about forty-five minutes - we send word back and have specialized teams hunt it down and contain it. They can be tricky to handle, and our little squad here is the rescuing kind, not the containment kind. Trying to wrangle something domineering enough to evade basic capture would take too long for us, whereas the aforementioned specialized team can trap it, seal it and send it on its way to a proper containment facility in under thirty minutes. On average, at least.”

Xandir paused to take a deep breath before continuing, left hand opened while his right hand tapped along the other’s digits as he went through the processes.

“After that, we make sure that all wildlife and people involved are either safe or properly healed, which is where we’re at now. Finally, we get seventy-two hours to get the individual set up with Chroma, if needed, and send them on their way. After that, it’s onto the next job.”

“We also still get stuck doing our chores around the campsite,” Olga said, crossing her arms. “You’d think they’d let us properly help the person, but it just isn’t ‘time efficient’.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Cog said, distaste clear in his scrunched features. “Gotta love corporate America.”

“Corporate what?” Olga asked.

“Nothing,” Cog said. “This is all a ton to process at once… How far until we get back to the office?”

“A few hours, at least,” Xandir said.

“Alright, so I have plenty of time to let it sink in…” Cog muttered, then looked up. “So you guys get me all juiced up with magic. What’s after that?”

“We’ll send you to a training annex nearby,” Noelle said. “You’ll be there for six months to a year, depending on how long you want to stay and how spread out you want your training to be. Gives you any basic knowledge you might be missing, too - I’d recommend taking the courses they offer on the System’s functions and all that it entails. There’s only about two dozen of them, each an hour or two long. Easy to fit in.”

“And after that?” Cog asked.

“That’s fully your choice,” Olga said. “You can easily hunt your own food after that, or you can try to make a difference. Could join in with us as a PMI or make an institution of your own, or just go as a solo act. Hells, you could build a cabin in the middle of nowhere and farm for the rest of your life. Nobody’s going to stop you.”

“We try to encourage newcomers to join us, since we’re always in need of new people,” Xandir said. “Entirely up to you, though, Cog.”

“We’ll see how getting magic goes first,” Cog said, running two hands over his face. “This is just… so much. So, so much, y’know?” He looked up at Noelle.

“How do you even get magic?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” she said. “You use a drop suite!”

“A… drop suite?” Cog asked, tilting his head.

“Yep,” Olga said. “Solid Chroma of different densities. It gets your body used to growing with Chroma, which kicks off the system’s Chroma Development Mode. Pretty simple.”

“How do you take the drops?” Cog asked.

“Orally.” Noelle and Xandir said.

“Rectally.” Olga said at the same time, then frowned at them.

“You guys are no fun,” she said.

“How long does it usually take?” Cog asked, shooting Olga a wary look.

“Around 40 hours, give or take,” Xandir said. “Without breaks.”

“Without breaks!?” Cog said.

“Without breaks,” Noelle confirmed.

“Fuck,” Cog said, forcing himself to relax. He hadn’t even realized he was tensing up until that moment.

“Yeah, it sucks, but you’ll get through it,” Noelle said, smiling encouragingly. “We’ll make sure no more Fialtogs attack you while you get all Chroma’d up.”

“Thank you..?” Cog said, voice tentative. “What about other stuff that might want to kill me?”

“You’re on your own,” Olga snorted, then all three grinned at each other before bursting into laughter.

It was then that he felt his adrenaline finally fade. His eyes felt like lead shutters, and his body was so hard to shift around. The pain in his arm was now his normal, and he put it into a position that made it hurt as little as possible.

“Nobody would blame me if I went to sleep, right?” Cog asked.

“Looks like we couldn’t stop you if we wanted to,” Olga said, glancing him up and down.

“Go ahead and rest up,” Noelle said. “You can ask more questions later.”

Cog nodded, easing back into his seat. His brain went into overdrive trying to sort the facts out, but succeeded in doing nothing but making a larger mess to straighten out later. He could imagine what sort of reaction his father would have to his new form, or his sister, or his friends…

The thoughts of his home eased him just beyond the cacophony in his mind, into an empty, thoughtless state.

Then, just like that, Cog fell into the deepest sleep he’d known in his life.