WHERE'S MY ARM?!

Consciousness returned to Alexander like the tide, slow and inevitable, bringing with it the weight of a world turned upside down. His mind, lost in the fog of a dream—or perhaps a nightmare—fought to surface from the depths of oblivion, each memory a beacon in the dark.

As clarity washed over him, the memories cascaded—a relentless deluge. The cataclysm at the reactor, the ethereal sanctuary amidst clouds, the chilling grasp of a malevolent spirit, and finally, Richter. Each recollection struck with the force of reality crashing down, leaving him breathless in their wake.

Amidst the storm of his thoughts, one concern rose paramount: Aurum. Alexander’s eyes, heavy as if bound by chains, struggled open, driven by a need to see the hopper, to anchor himself to something familiar, something real. There, a small weight against his chest, lay Aurum, serene and unharmed, a single point of solace in the chaos.

But solace was fleeting. The absurdity of conversing with a deity, of calmly navigating the surreal, gnawed at his sanity. Had his emotions been shackled by the divine? Was his calm a facade, crafted by unseen forces?

Desperate for a grip on reality, Alexander reached for Richter’s token with his left hand, a sharp reminder of his corporeal limits as pain flared, a cruel herald of the truth. Yet, it was the absence he felt with his right that brought a visceral terror. Where his arm should have been, there was nothing.

The void where his limb once resided sent a shock of horror through him, a scream tearing from his depths as he lurched upright, agony and loss intertwining. Aurum, startled into wakefulness, recoiled, his eyes mirroring Alexander's terror.

The room, once a blur of indistinct shapes, spun violently. Alexander’s breaths came in jagged gasps, each a battle against the tide of pain and disbelief washing over him.

His outcry, a raw echo of fear and confusion, shattered the silence, drawing swift footsteps to his side. Figures blurred at the doorway, concern etched in their hurried movements. Among them, a face emerged from the maelstrom of faces—Galen. The sight of a familiar ally in this sea of uncertainty offered a lifeline, a semblance of normalcy in the madness.

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"Alexander, hold on," Galen's voice cut through the turmoil, a beacon of calm. His presence, an unexpected comfort, grounded Alexander, pulling him back from the edge of despair.

Driven by a whirlwind of questions and a desperate need for answers, Alexander made to rise, his body a battleground of pain and determination. But the effort was too much; dizziness and pain conspired to push him back, a stark reminder of his fragility.

Galen's hands, firm yet gentle, eased him down. "Easy, easy," he murmured, a steadying force in the chaos. "Are you alright?"

The question, absurd in its simplicity under the circumstances, nonetheless offered a moment of clarity. "I don't know," Alexander rasped, the effort of speech a mountain climbed.

Galen surveyed the damage, his concern palpable. "Let's focus on the here and now. You've endured more than most could bear."

"What the hell happened?!" Alexander's voice was rough with confusion and burgeoning anger, his gaze fixed intently on Galen.

Galen sighed, his expression somber. "Voidling attack..." he said quietly.

Alexander's brows furrowed in confusion, the term foreign to him. "Voidlings?" he echoed, the word unfamiliar and ominous.

"They are despicable creatures," Galen elaborated, seeing Alexander's lack of recognition. "Voracious and terrifying. You were caught in an explosion they emerged from, and... one got a hold of your arm," he paused, letting the gravity of the situation sink in. "From what I heard from people in the area."

The room felt colder at the mention, a shiver running down Alexander's spine despite his immobility. Galen's gaze softened as he added, "Thankfully, some roaming adventurers were also in the vicinity and managed to reach you before the creature could finish you off. I'm very glad that little guy is safe as well," he said, nodding towards Aurum with a gentle smile.

Alexander glanced at Aurum, the hopper's presence a small comfort amidst the whirlwind of revelations.

Galen continued, his voice taking on the cadence of someone sharing a well-known yet rarely spoken tale. "Voidlings are steeped in dark magic, a concentration so intense it's palpable. They resemble some unholy blend of a scuttling beast and a panther, with hues of black and purple shimmering across their form." He paused, as if the description conjured images he'd rather forget. "Little is known about them, but they appear amidst explosions of dark magic in populated areas, almost like... an invasion."

Alexander listened intently, the pieces of a puzzle he didn't want to solve fitting together in his mind.

"They might be controlled or deployed by some unknown entity, but details are scarce. Attacks by voidlings are extremely rare, which makes gathering information about them difficult," Galen finished, his tone indicating this was common knowledge, albeit grim and unsettling.

The gravity of Galen's words hung heavily between them. "Most of the town was evacuated," Galen added after a moment, shifting the topic slightly. "The adventurers in the city managed to hold off the creatures long enough for people to escape with minimal losses. We're currently on an airship headed to another bordering island-state."

The mention of an airship and a journey to safety offered a sliver of relief to Alexander, a tangible plan amidst the chaos. Yet, the implications of Galen's story—the existence of voidlings, the attack, his own brush with death—cast long shadows over the flicker of hope.