Tim started down the hallway towards the stairs, slowing as he passed the "Human" room. I wonder what's wrong with her that she can't feel anything. Some kind of neurological thing, I assume, but I don't know how any of that shit works. My healing spell obviously didn't fix it.

He began walking again. Does that mean magic can't fix it or that my magic can't fix it? I suppose it's just game magic in my case, so probably it just does basic injuries that could add up to being life-threatening. His thoughts continued as he ascended towards the cafeteria. But magic should be able to fix it, right? That's like…sort of the point of magic, isn't it? So why hasn't… He frowned as he peered into the deserted dining area. "Vol?" he called.

When he received no answer for the few seconds he'd allotted for waiting, he turned to head back to the bottom of the stairwell. She's from a world that has magic, but she's lived with this… I assume most or all of her life? Is magic not that strong? But then if I consider what Ir'alith did that time with the target dummy to make it look like Vol, that seemed very elaborate, and she said she could even make it feel the same… Maybe… Thinking back further, Emma seemed shocked when Ir'alith made all those lights, so maybe Ir'alith is just really good at magic? Why wouldn't she be the magic champion if that was the case though?

He stepped out onto the starlit platform feeling like he'd just created more questions for himself. "Vol? Ir'alith?" he called. Why do I care so much anyway? Shit, let's not go there. This is some real hard mode—

"Do not approach, Drake Storm," Ir'alith's voice replied without a distinct directional source. "You will not be safe."

"Ir'alith! You're back!" he called. "Wow, I was starting to get worried!" This is good. Great, even. It's definitely better than having her hiding somewhere and going insane.

"You…were concerned for my well-being?" she asked, sounding confused.

"Of course! I'm Carl's best friend, and you're his friend too, so naturally I'd be worried about you," he called out, just like any ten-out-of-ten wingman would. "You're okay?"

"Carl… Much time has passed since I saw him," she said, now sounding sad. "Would he still call me his friend, Drake Storm?"

"Yeah, I'm sure he would," Tim replied. "He'd probably say something like: Hey, Ir'alith, long time no see. How's stuff going with…your family," he tried.

There was silence for a short while. "He did become friends with my father," she said, growing slightly upbeat.

He what? This is definitely a classic clueless Carl thing. "I bet they got along great, didn't they?" He sat down and settled in for a longer talk. Nice and slow.

"They… They did," she said slowly.

"You're looking forward to seeing him again, aren't you?" Tim asked.

"I cannot," she said firmly. "I am still close to…" She fell silent for a moment. "Leave me to my madness, Drake Storm. Forget—"

"Is it because of the other champions you killed here?" he interrupted.

"No, they were warriors who had accepted their fates," Ir'alith said just as firmly. "For the debt I owe Sateus, I would slay thousands more."

"Then it's something that happened before that," Tim reasoned.

"DO NOT SPEAK OF SUCH THINGS!" Ir'alith roared suddenly, her voice loud enough that he felt it as a force against his skin, far louder than even the rumbles and roars of the dragonkin. "Please. Do not," she said more quietly some time after the reverberations had finally died out.

Okay then. Tim looked around with eyes widened as far as they would go. Thought I saw my life flashing before my eyes for a second. If it's not that, then there's the one obvious thing, but I'm…feeling uncomfortably sure that I'll actually die if I mention him. Shit, kid, what the fuck did you do to her?

"Alright," he said a while later. "I won't give up on you, Ir'alith. You hear me?"

The sound of silence was his only reply, but he continued to wait.

He took a deep breath, then another, and then a third, and he began to meditate because he'd been feeling his stress levels building up steadily over the past several hours and he was approaching a nine-out-of-ten.

At last, more than fifteen minutes later, he received another reply.

"You are a trustworthy friend, Drake Storm," Ir'alith said quietly. "Carl is fortunate to have one such as you to call friend."

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"We'll get through this," he said confidently, continuing to keep his eyes closed as he took another slow breath.

"Would you speak with me for a time?" she asked. "Tell me… Tell me of your battles. Were your foes formidable?"

Tim scoffed. "You wouldn't believe it if I told you."

"Speak of them to me, and I will tell you if I believe you."

"Well," he began, a grin already spreading across his face as he thought over it. This is the dumbest story…

----------------------------------------

"I do not believe you," Ir'alith said between poorly-restrained chuckles. "You are not skilled at the telling of falsehoods, Drake Storm."

"No, I'm serious," he said with a laugh. "There's this fucking rumor going around that my weapon causes instant death, and now everyone just gives up before the fights even start."

"Who would believe such a thing?" she asked, sounding greatly amused. "A child would know that no such weapon could exist."

"I said as much last time I talked to Sateus!" he exclaimed. "Apparently all the more powerful gods are just laughing at the weaker ones who can't know for sure that it's a stupid rumor."

"Show this weapon to me," she said.

"Alright, alright, look," he said. Inventory. "Here it is," he said, pulling the halberd out and waving it around. "This look like anything that causes instant death to you?"

"It does glow with an ominous light, but I cannot sense any magic from it," Ir'alith said.

"Yeah, it's just a normal weapon with a light effect," he said, tossing it back into his inventory. "But now in…under two hours I'm going back to the arena, and someone else is going to forfeit because of it."

"This upsets you," she observed. "Why is that?"

Tim sighed. "I don't know. It's…" He ran a hand up into his hair and then down to scratch the back of his head. "This'll sound stupid, but I thought when I got here that I could do something. Something nobody from my world has ever done. Something awesome. But so far, I haven't gotten to do much. I've trained as hard as I could, and even Vol says I've gotten stronger, but it still doesn't feel like I've accomplished anything."

"You seek the satisfaction of seeing your labors rewarded," she said after a moment. "This does not seem stupid to me."

"Thanks," he said. He opened his eyes, feeling relaxed.

"I thank you for speaking with me, Drake Storm," Ir'alith said. "I am grateful for your kindness."

"I had fun." She's a good listener. Sounds a lot better now, but that's probably temporary. This is going to take more time to figure out. I wonder if Vol knows what's going on. His thoughts wandered briefly, eventually settling on the thoughts he'd had as he arrived down here. "Hey, can you still cast spells from wherever you are?" he called.

"I can," she replied. "Would you have me work magic for you, Drake Storm?"

"Would you mind?" he asked.

"Ask, and I will consider the matter," she called back.

"You're good at healing spells?" he tried.

"On my world, only my mother is more capable," she said with a hint of pride. "Are you wounded?" she asked immediately after, now sounding overly distraught. "You should have—"

"No, I'm fine, I'm fine," he said quickly. "Don't worry, Ir'alith."

"I…apologize for such a reaction," she said, her voice heavy with relief. "If it is not you, and Vol would not require healing, then it is the human, Emma?"

"Yeah, she's got…" Tim frowned. "Do I have to describe what's wrong with her, or can you just sort of magic it away without knowing?"

Ir'alith was silent for a time. "I do not know much of humans, Drake Storm. There is a spell I can work which attempts to restore a body to its so-called natural state, but I do not know whether this is what you seek. In some cases, a body may believe itself to be whole when it is not. Perhaps with a description of her malady I may better determine how to cure it."

"She can't feel anything," he said after a short time considering it. "I think something's… I don't know, something's broken in how signals are carried to her brain maybe."

Ir'alith remained quiet again, this time for a shorter period. "She cannot feel, or she believes that she cannot feel?" she asked at length.

"Uh, probably the first one?" Tim tried.

"If that is the case, then her ailment is likely to be one I can treat. If it is not… Magic cannot heal the mind, Drake Storm." Her final words were pronounced with a sense of regret.

"Alright, so if I bring her here, you'll try?" he asked, pushing himself to his feet and beginning to stretch.

"I will," she acknowledged. "Why do you wish to aid her? I have warned you that she is not to be trusted."

"Yeah, I know," he said with a sigh. "I…" His brows drew down low in an eight-out-of-ten frown. "If I'm honest, I guess I just want her to not hate me?" he said after thinking about it more deeply. Sort of.

"I thank you for your honesty," Ir'alith said. "I do not believe she will show gratitude for this, but perhaps I am mistaken. I am not a deity."

"We'll see," Tim said. "Be back in a few." He started back towards the stairs, accompanied by silence. Maybe she won't thank me, but I can't get that blank expression of hers out of my head. No trying to sleep again until I see something else out of her one way or another.

Emma's blank expression stared at him from his memories as he stepped out into the hallway. Shit, it's so weird. What was she even trying to accomplish that time?

The door that read "Human" stood in front of him at last. Human, huh. He stared at the word. Can I even go back to being a human at this point? What would it be like if I got sent back now? Would I just sit around wondering what else was out there? Everything on Earth seems so small somehow now that I know there's all these other things happening.

He sighed and shook his head a little after the six-out-of-ten depressing interlude. Time to get back on track.

After taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door.