Everon stood still, observing the aftermath of the fight with a calculating gaze. From start to finish, she had watched every move, and while it wasn’t the most intricate battle she’d seen, Jack had performed well. If he had gone all out, she believed he would have had a one-in-three chance of defeating the shade, whose arrogance left it vulnerable to Jack's surprise attacks.
The shade had once been a young noble who, along with his men, had ambushed Everon with the intent to violate her, as he had done to many women before. The memory brought her a dark satisfaction. His men had been swiftly dispatched by her Apophis, her bound familiar. And the noble, once trembling at her feet, had begged for his life. She had taken pleasure in his fear, knowing his status meant nothing in the face of her power. She had flayed the skin from his flesh before ripping out his soul and binding him to her servitude.
But now, he was gone, blown away into oblivion. Jack’s final blow had obliterated the noble’s soul entirely, leaving no hope of ever returning. For the first time, Everon felt a pang of regret. She had wanted to study his soul, to see how such arrogance and pride still lingered. Jack’s skill had wiped him from existence. She frowned slightly at the thought, a hint of disappointment crossing her face.
With a soft sigh, Everon stepped forward, appearing beside Jack, who lay unconscious. His body was covered in bruises, and several fine fractures lined his ribs and arms from the impact of the shade’s attacks. Despite the intensity of the battle, he had done exceptionally well—much better than she had expected. To her surprise, Jack had managed to avoid any fatal or severe wounds. The bruises and fractures, though painful, would heal on their own within a week or with the help of a potion.
But time was not on their side. The dungeon, already on the brink of collapse, was being held together by her magic, a burden she had no desire to carry any longer. Though Jack’s injuries weren’t dire, she needed him back on his feet much sooner, ready to leave the dungeon and move on.
Kneeling beside him, Everon placed her hand gently over his bruised skin, feeling the slight irregularity of the fractures beneath. She whispered the ancient words of healing magic, her voice steady and resonant with power. "𐎠𐎫𐎫𐎮𐎼 𐏂𐎧𐎨𐎽 𐎽𐎮𐎫𐎣𐎨𐎤𐎱 𐏂𐎮 𐎡𐎤 𐎼𐎤𐎫𐎫," she spoke aloud, casting the spell.
A soft green glow enveloped Jack, and his bruises began to fade, the fractures in his bones knitting back together seamlessly. The healing magic sped up his recovery, ensuring he would be fully healed within hours rather than days.
As the glow faded, Everon stood, satisfied. Healing him had been a matter of convenience, to get them moving faster. Jack had done well, and now he was ready for what lay ahead.
Everon cast another quick spell, speaking the incantation softly, “𐎣𐎨𐎤,” causing Jack’s body to rise gently off the ground. With a graceful wave of her hand, the room around them shifted, melting away as they reappeared in the waiting room. Jack floated beside her, unconscious, and she guided him over to the couch, placing him gently onto its soft cushions.
She stood over him, staring at his still form, lost in thought. Over the past six weeks, Jack had trained hard, and she wondered how much progress he had made. He likely hadn’t gained a new class, but his current ones must have advanced significantly. There was no denying that he had grown stronger. A small smile touched her lips. She was pleased with her choice. Jack had potential.
But even with that satisfaction, frustration simmered beneath the surface. Jack’s sense of justice and morality irritated her at times. He wasn’t foolish or reckless, but his tendency to argue about things like freeing the shade still annoyed her. He had to understand that some souls weren’t worth saving, and it frustrated her that Jack, despite his growing strength, still clung to a moral code that felt naïve in this world. She shook her head, trying to shake off the irritation.
Yet, despite her frustration, a certain fondness was beginning to grow. Jack wasn’t just a pawn or a servant—at least, not entirely. There was something about him, a potential she could mold, shape, and guide. He wasn’t a lost cause, and she knew that, with time, he could understand the harsh realities of the world. She hoped he would survive long enough to prove she hadn’t made a mistake.
Everon exhaled softly, her emotions a mix of irritation and pride. Yes, she had made the right choice. Now, all that remained was to see if Jack could live up to her expectations.
Turning her head, Everon moved toward the table where Jack’s spear lay, battered and cracked from the fight. The weapon, once boasting a sleek black-and-white shaft and a tri-tipped double-edged head, now showed signs of wear. Sighing softly, she summoned a black bone from her personal domain, setting it beside the spear. The bone, sleek and glossy, came from a leviathan—a monstrous sea creature she had helped slay eons ago.
Placing a finger on the spear, Everon began casting the enchantments. Hundreds of glowing runes, intricate and delicate, flowed from her fingertips, flickering red and black as they spun across the spear’s surface. Jack would be jealous if he saw this, she thought with a smirk. At his current skill level, this kind of magic was far beyond his reach. Perhaps one day he would master it, but certainly not anytime soon.
“𐎠𐎫𐎫𐎮𐎼,” she murmured, her voice weaving the magic deeper into the spear. As she continued, a thick black liquid began to seep from the weapon, flowing over the bone like ink. The spear’s shaft darkened to a deeper hue, absorbing the light, giving it a mysterious, almost ominous sheen. The tri-tipped head remained, but it, too, had transformed—sharper, darker, more lethal.
Everon smiled, pleased with the result. Jack may not yet understand the significance of what she had done, but in time, he would.
With the spear now stronger and more lethal than ever, Everon moved on to finish her preparations. Jack needed to be ready to leave the dungeon as soon as possible.
She summoned an array of supplies—camping gear, climbing tools, weapon maintenance kits. His spear, now repaired, still needed sharpening, and his armor required cleaning after the fight. A first aid kit, three weeks of rations, and two scrolls—one for regeneration and the other for Greater Teleportation—were floated into an enchanted satchel. This satchel, though small, had been enhanced to carry everything Jack would need for the journey ahead without being a burden.
As Everon finished packing the satchel, she glanced over at Jack’s unconscious form. "This is your path now," she thought, her emotions a mix of pride, frustration, and reluctant acceptance. She had done everything she could to prepare him, but once they left the dungeon, her power would become severely limited. Her connection to the physical world outside wouldn’t allow her to interact with it much. She frowned slightly, remembering how she had lied to him earlier when she claimed her help would be limited to knowledge. Back then, it wasn’t entirely true, but now it absolutely was—at least until she regained a lot more of her power.
Everon moved over and sat down, her gaze lingering on Jack’s face. Despite her original intentions, there was a faint sense of attachment growing. She hadn’t had a proper companion in over ten thousand years, and while Jack was far from perfect, there was something about him that intrigued her. He was useful, yes, but perhaps he was becoming something more. Even excluding his military training, she could see that Jack was a natural prodigy when it came to fighting—his instincts honed and his potential vast.
A faint smile tugged at her lips as she leaned back in her seat, waiting for him to awaken. She was eager to see just how much he had grown. She could already see his potential, but she hoped he wouldn’t let pride or arrogance be his downfall, as so many before him had. If he could keep his humility and learn from his mistakes, she knew he could achieve far more than even she had first anticipated.
---
Jack knew he was dreaming, but that didn’t make it feel any less real. It was just like any other day at the FOB (Forward Operating Base) in Africa. He had just returned from a long patrol and was utterly drained. After a grueling Combat Support mission, all he wanted was to grab some chow and hit the racks. He wasn’t sure why they were deployed to this godforsaken place or why they were fighting these particular enemies—but he didn’t dwell on it. He had a job to do, and he did it well.
That mindset had saved him more than once, in both boot camp and combat ops. After six years in the Army, Jack had settled into the routine. He’d served across three continents, completing God-knows-how-many operations. He had made Sergeant and earned some medals along the way. Now, all he hoped was that after this deployment, he could finally take some leave and see his family.
As Jack was about to grab his lunch, Staff Sergeant Robert approached him. Instinctively, Jack stood a little straighter.
“Rogers, the LT wants to see you. Get to the command post, ASAP.”
“Any idea why, Staff Sergeant?” Jack asked, mentally running through anything that might have earned him a summons. Staff Sergeant Robert’s expression was weary as he replied.
“Doesn't matter. Just get over there, on the double.”
There was something in Robert’s tone—a heaviness that Jack couldn’t quite place. It didn’t seem like he was in trouble, but something was off. After some good-natured ribbing from his platoon mates, Jack made his way toward the lieutenant’s tent. The humid air clung to him, and all he could think about was getting out of his combat gear.
Approaching the tent, he knocked three times—loud and firm.
"Enter!" came the crisp reply.
Jack stepped inside, scanning the room as he moved to attention in front of the lieutenant’s desk. He noticed First Sergeant Fredericks and Staff Sergeant Martin standing behind the lieutenant, and Chaplain Marvin was to the right. A small knot of unease tightened in Jack’s stomach.
Snapping to attention, he saluted. "Sergeant Rogers, reporting as ordered, Sir!"
The lieutenant stood, returned the salute, and said, "At ease. Take a seat, Sergeant."
Jack sat down, his back still rigid, waiting for whatever was to come next. The lieutenant wasn’t nervous, but there was exhaustion in his eyes. He glanced at the papers in his hand before locking eyes with Jack.
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"Jack, I know you prefer things straight, so I won’t sugarcoat this." The lieutenant paused, taking a deep breath. "I’m afraid I have some difficult news. Your parents passed away on May 3, 2018. I’m truly sorry for your loss."
The words hit Jack like a sledgehammer. He sat in the chair, his mind scrambling to grasp what he’d just heard. After a long moment, he blinked, the formality slipping away from his voice.
“Sir… it’s the 6th today.”
Lieutenant Howards exhaled slowly. "I know, Sergeant. It took some time to get the notification through the system. You were on your last mission when we first received the message. I wish we could have informed you sooner."
The words seemed distant. His parents were gone—and he hadn’t known. He hadn’t been there. His soldier’s discipline held him together, but an immense emotional weight bore down on him.
First Sergeant Fredericks stepped forward, his voice steady but kind. "Sergeant, we’ve got your emergency leave in the system. Your platoon is covered, and we’re working on securing transport. Logistics might take a day or two, but you’ll be notified as soon as it’s confirmed."
Jack nodded, though he barely registered the words. The world around him felt like it was slipping away, out of focus.
Chaplain Marvin finally spoke, his voice soft and warm. "Jack, this is a lot to take in. You don’t have to go through this alone. We’re all here for you, and I’m available whenever you’re ready to talk. No pressure, just know we’re here."
Jack swallowed hard, trying to make sense of it all. His thoughts were swimming, and the words around him felt muffled, like background noise. He needed to go home, but the reality of it all was overwhelming. Finally, after a deep breath, he replied quietly, “Thank you, sir. I’ll take the leave.”
Lieutenant Howards stood and extended his hand. Jack rose and shook it, feeling a fleeting sense of clarity amidst the storm in his head. "We’ll take care of everything here, Sergeant. You focus on your family. We’ll get you on the next available flight."
As Jack left the tent, the heat of the day hit him, but it felt far away, like everything else. A few of his platoon mates were waiting outside. They didn’t say much—just a few pats on the back and quiet nods of understanding. He knew they’d be there when he got back. But right now, his mind was fixed on one thing—home.
The next few days blurred together. One moment he was stepping off the plane in Texas, the next he was standing at his parents’ funeral. The ceremony passed in a daze, the words of condolences and prayers feeling distant, like they were meant for someone else.
After the funeral, Jack filed for a family hardship discharge. It wasn’t an easy decision. The Army had been more than a job—it had been a big part of his life. But without his parents, without the family home to return to, nothing felt right. His lieutenant and First Sergeant Fredericks understood, helping the process go through smoothly despite their reluctance to see him leave.
Now the house—his family’s home—was his. But it didn’t feel like his. Moving into it felt surreal, like stepping into someone else’s life. The familiar sights and smells were there, but they seemed distant, echoes of a life that no longer existed. The house was too quiet, too big, too empty.
That first night, Jack sat in his father’s old armchair, staring into the darkness. He had thought that coming home would bring peace, but all it brought was a suffocating emptiness. The silence pressed in on him, thick and heavy, until it drowned out every thought and feeling. All that remained was the void.
Jack had always been more than the Army. But now, without his parents, without his unit, he wasn’t sure what was left. He sat there, alone in the dark, the weight of it all pressing down, and felt… nothing.
---
Jack jolted awake, the dream still vivid in his mind. It felt like it belonged to a lifetime ago, though only two months had passed since then, and so much had changed. He rubbed his jaw absentmindedly, feeling the familiar rough texture of the bone mask still clinging to his face. His fingers traced its contours as he wiped away the drool that had gathered at the corners of his mouth. Special artifacts, it seemed, did little when it came to things like drooling in his sleep.
Slowly orienting himself, Jack tried to piece together what had happened. The last thing he remembered was the intense fight in the arena, the overwhelming exhaustion afterward, and then everything going dark. Now, he was in the waiting room, and strangely enough, his body felt whole. He was sure he’d fractured some bones in those final moments—he could still feel the phantom ache—but now, there was no pain. No sign of injury.
His eyes scanned the room and landed on his spear and a bag resting on the nearby table. And then, there was Everon, watching him closely, her gaze steady and unreadable. He figured she had something to do with his recovery.
With a playful grin, Jack tilted his head. “I know I’m good lookin’, but am I really that amazin’?”
Everon sighed, her expression unimpressed. “Jack, I’ve seen men so handsome they had to wear a veil lest they incite riots and be assaulted by legions of women. You, my dear, are nowhere near that.”
Jack paused mid-stretch, rubbing his sore shoulders from sleeping in his armor. “You’re serious? How the hell could someone be that good lookin’?”
Everon nodded, her tone light but sincere. “Oh, quite serious. He wasn’t just a pretty face either—his class was ‘Prince Charming.’ Let’s just say he had some... unusual talents when it came to attracting attention.”
Jack blinked, then shook his head with a smirk. “A ‘Prince Charming’ class? You mean he could charm folks just by showin’ up?” He chuckled, standing fully now. “That’s somethin’ else. Sounds like more trouble than it’s worth.”
Everon smirked, clearly amused by the memory. “It certainly caused him a lot of chaos, but it made for some interesting stories.”
Jack shook his head, grabbing his spear. “Well, I reckon I’m better off without that kinda attention. Got enough problems as it is.”
As he rubbed the back of his neck, he felt the stiffness in his muscles from sleeping in his armor. Sure, he was used to it from his army days, but that didn’t make it any more comfortable.
His gaze shifted to the table, where his spear lay. Something was different. The spearhead gleamed with a faint white glow, and the shaft had darkened, almost black compared to before. He hefted it up, immediately noticing the increased weight. What had once been a light, two-pound weapon now felt closer to five or six pounds. Jack tested the balance, shifting it between his hands. It felt firmer, more solid. Oddly enough, he liked it better this way.
“Not bad,” he muttered with a satisfied grin, setting the spear back down.
His attention then turned to the bag on the table. When he opened it, his eyes widened in surprise. “What the…?” Without hesitation, Jack shoved his entire arm into the bag, all the way up to his shoulder. It felt like he was reaching into an impossibly deep space, far beyond what the bag’s size should allow. His hand brushed against various items, each distinct in shape and feel, but he couldn’t make sense of how it all fit inside.
He grinned, shaking his head in disbelief. “This a bag of holdin’?”
Everon looked at him, slightly surprised. “Well, I must say, I didn’t expect you to know what that was. I thought your world didn’t have magic.”
Jack shook his head. “It doesn’t. It’s just somethin’ you’d find in a fantasy game or hear about in stories. Would’ve been real handy if we’d had that in the army. So, what’s in it?” He rummaged through the bag, feeling the curious items, but figured letting Everon explain would save time.
“Generally, supplies for someone embarking on a long journey, along with a couple of runic and magic books for you to continue your studies. And, of course, the two scrolls,” she said nonchalantly, walking over to the other side of Jack.
He dug through the bag and pulled out two scrolls: the Scroll of Greater Teleport and the Scroll of Regeneration. Holding them in his hands, Jack glanced at Everon, then back at the scrolls.
“So this is how I leave here. Huh, I thought I’d be happier knowin’ I can go, but now I just feel... anxious,” he admitted, staring down at the scrolls.
Everon tilted her head slightly, her voice soft but firm. “Are you having second thoughts now, Jack? We have an arrangement, and you can’t very well spend the rest of your life down here.”
Jack shook his head, his tone light but tinged with something deeper. “Not second thoughts... but I had this dream while I was out,” he started. “A year before I ended up here, I was in the army. My parents died, and everything just… spiraled. Tried to keep up, drinkin’, going out, pretendin’ everything was fine. But even then, I felt alone. Like I was driftin’.”
He chuckled softly, though it lacked humor. “And now, here I am, standin’ in a dungeon, talkin’ to an ancient witch in a world that shouldn’t even exist. It’s like I woke up in someone else’s story and I’m just tryin’ to figure out my part.”
He glanced down, eyes lingering on the bag. “I know what I signed up for—I’ll help you get your body back, no question. But outside of that? I don’t have much to go on. Just survivin’ day to day and hopin’ I figure it out as I go.” He shrugged, but there was a subtle crack in his words, a weariness he couldn’t hide.
“I guess it’s just strange. New world, new chances... but it feels like I’m carryin’ the same weight. No matter where I go, I’m still just... gettin’ by.” He wasn’t breaking down, but the tension was there, a quiet tiredness creeping into his voice.
Everon watched him for a moment, resting her hand on his shoulder. For a second, she considered doing what she had done before—suppressing his emotions, helping him bury the weight. But she decided against it.
Instead, she spoke in a more serious tone, the usual refinement gone. “Every story begins like a witch’s first spell—a simple breath, the first step into the circle, where magic stirs and destiny waits to be woven with every incantation that follows.”
Jack looked at her, a little confused.
“It’s something my master told me when I was starting out,” she explained. “I was terrified, Jack. When I was young, the idea of stepping out into the world as a witch… it scared me more than anything. I didn’t know what would happen or where I’d end up. But that’s the point. It’s okay not to know where you’re going right now or what you want to do. Some of the greatest legends started that way. Lost, unsure. But the difference is... they took the first step.”
She squeezed his shoulder gently. “It’s not okay to stand still. You’ve got to leave here, Jack. Go out and live. Enjoy the world. Everything else will follow after that.”
Jack exhaled slowly, shaking his head, though this time with a hint of resolve. “Hell, you’re probably right. Alright then, let’s get movin’.”
As Everon quietly returned to the necklace, Jack squared his shoulders. The weight he’d been carrying for so long felt just a little lighter. He tied the satchel, slung his spear over his shoulder, and took a deep breath. No more hesitation—he was ready.
Unfurling the scroll, Jack was instantly engulfed in a swirling vortex of magic. Colors flashed all around him, spinning wildly as he was hurled through the air. It felt like time had no meaning—an endless rush of light and sensation. But in the chaos, he noticed two distinct streaks moving through the storm of magic.
The first was close—a young woman with pointed ears, flowing silver hair, and a deep blue robe adorned with gold accents. A sleek black cat perched across her shoulders, its glowing eyes locked on Jack. The woman tipped her wide-brimmed witch’s hat toward him with a small nod, then disappeared into the swirling colors as quickly as she had appeared.
The second streak was far off—a shadowy figure moving with purpose, too distant to make out. They vanished just as quickly into the vortex.
Before Jack could process it, the colors grew brighter, then faded. In an instant, the rush of magic ended. He landed softly, the sun warming his skin as he stood in the middle of a vast, open field.
The air was alive, filled with the scent of wildflowers and fresh leaves. Jack took a deep breath, letting the natural aroma wash over him, so different from the dungeon’s stale air. He smiled, taking in the beauty around him. To his right, far-off mountains loomed under a soft mist. Ahead, a dense forest beckoned, its trees swaying gently in the breeze. Behind him, a river wound its way through the field, shimmering under the sunlight, while to his left, endless plains stretched into the horizon.
For a moment, Jack stood still, absorbing the vastness of it all. There was a sense of freedom here, a weight lifting off his shoulders. The path ahead was unclear, but for once, he didn’t mind. The world was wide open, full of possibilities.
With his spear in hand and the satchel secure, Jack took his first step into the new world. The sun warmed his skin, the breeze tousled his hair, and for the first time in a long while, Jack felt ready.