Kalden was not going to get used to the sound of the heavy steel bar doors anytime soon. The rattling produced by the dungeon gates made him feel like he was back in a certain prison in Iran. The air smelt the same too, dry, stale, with hints of foreboding attached to it, so is the lighting, dim, only slightly illuminated by the glow in the dark mushrooms, Sorooms, they were called, found only in dungeons, growing in the walls of the Dungeon, feeding off its energy. They reminded Kalden of the light bulbs that lined the hallways of Nhahriake detention centre.

Kalden regretted coming alone, having to sit and talk with a stranger now seems like a much better than option that descending deeper into the dark abyss in front of him. Kalden briefly considered heading back up, but no, his ego would not have it. He’s not going scared of just a little darkness.

A groan. A low rumbling groan echoed into Kalden’s ear, and he immediately tensed up, his gun already in his hands raised and ready with the safety thumbed off.

“The fuck was that?” Kalden asked aloud, his eyes scanning the darkness in search of the source of the groan, only able to see as far as the flashlight of his Mk23’s underbarrel LAM could shine.

Slowly, Kalden sidestepped towards the left wall of the Dungeon to where a bunch of small Sorooms grew on the floor, all the while the right side of his body tensed up in preparation for something to jump out of the darkness.

So, numbed by the adrenaline for a brief moment, Kalden did not notice himself pressing his entire back against the wall. He took several more tense seconds of careful sweeping his surroundings, confirming there was indeed no one around before slowly, with his gun still up making his way deeper into the dungeon, using his flashlight to slowly sweep the darkness in front of him.

“It’s just the wind. It’s just the bloody wind.” Kalden whispered to himself. He knew that was not true, wind does not groan; also, there was no wind in the dungeon, but he clung on to the reasoning still, not wanting to think about it.

Cold sweat clung onto the back of his neck, his hair stood on their ends, his eyes and ears were like an Aegis radar system, on full alert, looking out for anything out of place.

The sound of iron bars rattling in the distance echoed through the dungeon, “Please, let me out.” A voice choked out in Arabic to the left of him.

Kalden’s snapped to the source but was only met with the stone walls of the dungeon.

“What the fuck’s going on?” he muttered.

“You got the wrong man. I’m a tourist, a businessman.” Another voice in Chinese, this time behind him. Kalden turned, and immediately froze.

The voice came from none other than himself, the old him, dressed in the same dirty, ragged white button shirt from that botched attempt in contacting an Iranian Monarchist group in Qom.

He had been forced to squat on the floor, a board had been put between his arms, a stress position, meant to push his body to the breaking point. Standing in front of the blindfolded man was an Iranian revolutionary guardsman. Through his thick facial hair, Kalden could see the guardsman was bruised, bloodied and looked absolutely pissed off as he stood over the old him.

Must be from the time I tried to escape.

The guardsman was shouting, spit and froth spewing out of his mouth, but no sound came out.

“Like I said, you have the wrong guy.” The old him croaked, exhausted, and Kalden cringed as the boot of the guardsman impacted the side of his old head, sending him tumbling across the concrete floor, groaning and muttering hoarsely in pain.

The guardsman then turned his attention on him, his blood-shot eyes locking onto Kalden, and a feeling of dread filled Kalden’s stomach as he began to saunter towards him.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“This wasn’t how I remembered it…” he whispered, as his strength was suddenly sapped from his body. The music that had always been playing in the background via his earpieces suddenly stopped, and the much-dreaded silence filled the void.

His gun slipped out of his grip, clattering uselessly onto the ground. Kalden wanted to pick it back up, but his body was no longer obeying him, he remained pressed against the wall, staring.

For a brief moment, Kalden lost eye contact with the guardsman, and when he looked up again, the guardsman was gone, replaced instead with the bloodied, lifeless body of Cpl Jamerson “Wretch” Lincoln, his BDUs blackened from the flames, burnt flesh could be seen at where the fabric had burnt away. His face was a blackened bloody mess, he used to sport a beard, but that had been burnt away.

“Wretch.” Kalden breathed.

“Kal.” He croaked, shuffling closer towards Kalden, like a zombie. his mouth twisting into a creepy, droopy smile, “Are we home yet?”

“No… it can’t be…” the dread within Kalden was quickly replaced with guilt. “You can’t be…”

Wretch’s smile flattered, “No? …well that sucks,” disappointed. He staggered even closer, “I really wanted you to try my mother’s dim sum. Her store makes the best Xiao long bao in New York City. You love those don’t you?”

Tears began to well up, “Fuck Wretch. Why here, why now?” Kalden’s voice begun to crackle, as what strength remained in his legs disappeared, and he slid down onto the floor, his eyes never once breaking eye contact with Cpl Wretch’s lifeless ones, despite the tears blurring his vision.

The memories were flooding back to him, sitting in the closed restaurant, several bamboo steamers piled on top of one another, filled with piping hot Xia long bao. They smelled absolutely divine, but the atmosphere was anything but.

Sitting directly opposite of him on the table were Wretch’s parents, Mr and Mrs Lincoln, their eyes red and puffy from the tears shed. Mr Lincoln gripped the case which held Wretch’s purple heart tightly as he shoved a dumpling into his mouth, more tears pouring out as he chewed.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Kalden whispered, as his body curled up into a tight ball, his head burying deeper inside. The guilt wrecking every fabric of his body and mind.

A part of Kalden knew this wasn’t real, someone was most likely fucking with him, making him see things, Redgrave being a prime suspect. But the floodgates were open, nothing could stop the tidal wave of guilt washing over every orifice of his being.

A hand touched Kalden’s shoulder, “Hey-”

Kalden looked up and saw the blurred figure of the Iranian guard once more. His body acted instinctively, and before he knew it, like a coiled spring, he lunged at the guardsman, pinning him down, as his S&W M9 bayonet, previously strapped to his ankle flashed against the figure’s pale neck.

“Wait!” A vaguely familiar voice screamed.

Kalden’s hand froze, and his mind quickly retook control over his body as his tears were quickly wiped away.

“Rosen?” Kalden sucked in a deep breath, his entire body freezing in shock.

“Kalden?”

For a moment nobody moved, neither did they breathe, they just stared into each other eyes, light blue meets dark green.

Then something within Kalden clicked, and he recoiled away from Rosen, pressing himself against the wall, the knife in his hands disappearing off to the darkness with a loud clang.

“I’m so sorry.” Kalden said frantically, pulling Rosen back to his feet, squeezing him into a giant apologetic hug, “I’m so, so sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight, I thought you were…”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Rosen choked out, patting Kalden’s back vigorously, “Now let me go before I die for real.”

“Ah, right.” Kalden released Rosen from the hug, and an awkward silence now filled the two of them.

Rosen looked like he had a million questions, but after a few seconds of intense staring, something beyond his eyes softened, and he gave one deep long sigh.

“Do you want to party up?” he asked.

“You want to party with me?” Kalden asked in astonishment, “But…”

“Don’t.” Rosen cut him off, raising a palm, “I have a million questions, but I’ve seen enough people like you back home, there’s no time for you war stories right now, I just want to go in there, collect some soulic crystals and get out. It’s a dangerous job, and I would much prefer to have someone with me, even if he seems a little unhinged.” he said matter of factly.

Kalden stood there, a part of him was taken aback by Rosen change of attitude, this was not the same innocent-looking 16-year-old he met back in the Guild Hall in Reme a week ago, he sounded more like his uncle, a grizzled steelworker whose only goal in life was work before fucking off back home.

“Yeah sure,” Kalden nodded, “I’ll party up. Thanks… for not asking.”

Rosen shrugged, “Its fine, all I ask of you is to accept me for what I am.” He flipped down the hood that had been covering the top of his head, and a pair of cat-like ears emerged out of Rosen’s brown half of his hair.

“!!!”

Kalden was not sure which to be more surprised, the fact the boy had cat-like ears, or his hair having two colours, dark brown from the roots, white from the midsection down to the tips or the cat ears that complimented his human ones.

His eyes went for the ears in a heartbeat, Rosen’s hairs were a dime and dozen, regularly seen on social media, but actual cat-ears on a human, that was a different thing entirely. A Felihoma, part human part beastman, one of the many ethnic groups that made up the larger Hybrid race, they had been mentioned extensively in the history section of the Grand Library.

Though already armed with the information, Kalden still could not help but stare in awe at them, his mind still trying to come to terms with the fact that yes, he was not dreaming, nekos are a thing here in this world and damn, does he want to touch those fluffy ears.

Rosen quickly noticed however and he flipped the hood back up, using his hands to press his ears back down once more so they won’t jut out of the fabric. He glanced over at Kalden, mumbled something below his breath and turned away.

“Never mind, you would never work with a Felihoma like me.” He muttered softly.

“Now why would you think that?”

“I’ve seen that look before, that dumbfounded look.” Rosen hissed. “You think I am a freak, don’t you? A product of the demon lord.”

“Do you really believe that? Are you really a freak?” Kalden asked, “Because, I don’t.”

As Kalden spoke, he closed the distance between two of them, placing a hand on his head, slowly pushing the hood away, letting the ears pop back up, massaging them. “Your ears are fine Rosen.”

Rosen snapped up in surprise, his cheeks flushing a tinge of red as he brushed Kalden’s hand away, “Stop that… it tickles.”

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.” Kalden chuckled slightly, he held out a hand, “Since we know each other’s embarrassing sides already, what do we say we be partners? At least for the duration of this exploration.”

“You are the only human I’ve ever made that actually does not find my ears disgusting.” Taking Kalden’s hand, shaking it vigorously, “I accept your offer.