My name is Dart, and I don’t have a say in these matters. My master writes me, and off I go, transported to another realm. I must obey; it is my nature, so much so, it would never occur to me to do otherwise—until now, it seems. I’m no fool; discovering a law and breaking it are entirely different matters. I have many freedoms, the manner in which I end things being one, and that I enjoy. Not the acts themselves nor the end I bring, but the options. Options are all I have.

Finding myself in the middle of some dry wasteland, I look down at my garb. Sturdy leather boots with similar trousers and a tight-fitting long sleeve, also leather. My hands are dark in tone with calloused palms and fingers—fitting, since there’s a short sword at my hip. I look around as dust swirls at my feet. I can see far and catch a glint off in the distance. I make my way toward it. In a desolate area like this, it will be water or people. Either way, I should find something to do.

As I get closer, I see it’s a town with people dashing around, probably looking for survivors. From this distance, I can make out destroyed homes and massive piles of rubble. Large chunks of stone have been gouged or blown out of the defensive wall. I continue at a leisurely pace. There are a few undamaged structures outside the city walls. Squinting my eyes, it appears to be where they are taking the injured.

I can hear screaming and orders being shouted. I make it to the portion of wall I spotted earlier; there is a hole just wide enough for me to squeeze through. I stick my head and shoulders into the gap and hoist myself up and into the town. My hands land first, followed quickly by my boots. I right myself and move briskly towards the nearest commotion.

A light-haired woman beats me there. She rushes up in a blur, where three people are trying to move the heavy stone rubble. The woman is also strong; she starts heaving the stone off to one side. Once I make it there, I fall in beside her, helping to clear a path toward the survivors below. We continue at this pace for a short time. The bystanders are too weak and tired to be of much help. Not that the two of us need it; the woman could have done just fine on her own.

An older man rushes to a specific spot. “The door to the cellar is under here; clear it, and we can get to them,” he says hurriedly.

The woman and I make quick work uncovering the trapdoor. It is partially caved in and no longer functional, so we pry away the broken wood, revealing a staircase. The woman rushes downward, and I follow close behind.

“Oh, thank the Gods,” I hear as I make it all the way down. A small woman is sitting on the floor, back resting against a barrel with an unconscious man’s head in her lap.

She looks up at the light-haired woman. “Can you help my husband? He was cut at the start of the fighting; I barely managed to drag him away. It was chaos out there, then, just as I pulled him to safety, the house came down on us!” She begins to cry.

The light-haired woman studies the man, then looks to me. “Will you get him to the healers? His breathing is steady, and I don’t think he has a fever. I need to keep looking for survivors.”

I kneel next to the man. “I’ll heal him; his wounds are minor.” I place my hand on his chest and guide healing energy into him. Contact isn’t necessary, but I’m never certain how random realms behave. This way is usually less eye-catching, assuming it’s a magical realm. After closing the gash on his leg, I tend to the concussion and bruising. It probably happened when she dragged him down those steps. That done, my thoughts turn to the woman. She has a terrible migraine but is otherwise unharmed. I clear her headache as I stand.

“Why aren’t you at the building with all the wounded?” the light-haired woman growls at me. “Every healer in the city is there, working themselves to the bone to save people, and you’re flitting around like a leaf on the breeze.” She clenches her fists angrily.

I spoke of options before, and here I am at my first major one. This woman is powerful, and angering her might lead to complications. If things go south, I can change my appearance, but I haven’t even seen it yet. What if I accidentally pick the same look? That would be embarrassing. On magical worlds, strange honesty tends to work well in these situations—not so much anywhere else. I decide to tell the truth.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“I arrived on this planet not long ago. Poof, and I appeared.”

She furrows her brow at me. “That might explain the strange healing magic, but many healers feel different,” she says in a thoughtful tone. “How long ago did you say?”

“Not long, maybe an hour. I walked straight here; you were one of the first people I saw.”

As we’re talking, the people from earlier make their way into the cellar. The older man and two women rush over to the unconscious man.

“Is he injured?” the older man asks the sitting woman.

“He was—a bad cut on his leg,” she points at the slit in the fabric. “The healer,” she nods in my direction.

The man shuffles up to me and bows deeply, not meeting my eyes. “Sir, we don’t have enough coin to pay…”

The light-haired woman cuts in, “Only an asshole would take money from people in need, especially at a time like this.” She looks at me with fire in her eyes.

“Of course, I didn’t help the man for coin,” I offer a reassuring smile, hoping to ease the tension.

“Nonetheless, I am in your debt,” he says fervently. “Maybe this will teach the idiot boy a lesson, running off to battle with no training.” He shakes his head.

“You should be proud.” The light-haired woman interjects, her voice tinged with anger. “He tried to protect the city, his wife, his home. It takes courage to walk headlong into danger.”

“Of course, young miss. I didn’t… I worry for my son is all.”

She nods and faces me. “Will you go to the medical building? It was full of the wounded when I last dropped someone off. I’ll show you where it is and introduce you to one of my squad members—he’s also a healer.”

“Lead the way,” I tell her.

As we step outside, she points and says, “This way,” before taking off at a run. I follow closely behind, my thoughts wandering to how things usually start off much tamer. Typically, I get placed somewhere, spend time learning about their magic and monsters, and maybe even do a bit of sightseeing. This is the quickest I’ve ever had to run. Keeping pace with the woman, I jump over stone debris and broken beams as we make our way to the edge of town. Nearly half the structures are damaged. “What happened?”

“The town was attacked by flying… creatures,” she takes a breath. “We managed to fight them off, but just barely.”

“Why did they attack?”

“Do demons need a reason to murder the innocent?” She spits the words out in a disgusted tone. “Vile beasts—they enjoy it.”

We continue in silence as the gates to the town blur past. We find ourselves at the medical building in no time. The front doors are massive and splayed open. I can see row after row of cots; most are occupied. People blow past as we stop in front of the open doors, probably off to look for more wounded.

“Come on, follow me,” she says and hurries in.

Once inside, I see how everything is laid out. There are ten sections, each with ten cots, and one healer to a section. The healers look to be well trained and highly skilled; they do in fact use healing magic without contact. Every patient currently being seen to is in dire need of treatment. Everything from chunks of missing flesh to torn-off limbs. She wasn’t lying. I feel bad for not coming here immediately, even though I hadn’t known. I couldn’t see inside when I glimpsed the building earlier.

I move to the nearest untended person, a man, half of his body covered in burns. Standing next to him, I dull the pain and slowly heal the marred flesh. He had been looking around in a crazed manner until the pain vanished. His eyes drift closed, and he loses consciousness.

I hear a muffled, “He was right behind me, I don’t know.” I get up to find the voice; the man’s body will be back to normal in a few minutes. The healers can manage near-instant healing as far I can tell. I won’t pretend to be much worse than that, especially in this situation. I spot the light-haired woman scowling at a chuckling man with a muscular frame.

They look over simultaneously. The man greets me with a smile and, a bit too loudly, remarks, “Tall, dark, and handsome. Laura sure knows how to pick ‘em.”

The woman exhales sharply through her nose. Her glare is so dark and malevolent, it feels as if she could summon an inferno from the very depths of hell to obliterate him where he stands. “Make one more sound, and I’ll run you through with your own mother,” she whispers coldly.

A new voice interrupts, “That’s a bit harsh,” as a short man steps out of her shadow, casually holding a sandwich. “I’m all for good-natured ribbing, but Jesus, lady, threatening to skewer a bloke with his own mum is crossing the line.” He sighs deeply. “As I know too well, I’ve done terrible things, marred the line between good and evil as I stepped across, and living with that is hard. It changes you, and with powers like mine, it would be easy to walk the evil path. I’ve lost friends, my brother, lover, and nearly my own sanity. I don’t know where I’d be without my friends, people I’ve literally died for and who would do the same for me. They would gladly…” He continues.

Laura is obviously fighting back tears, and Patrick stands taller with every word. I can’t take any more of it. With all haste, I tear Patrick’s head off his neck and hurl it at the sandwich wielder. A sharp crack fills the room as the faces collide, followed by a soft, rapid pattering as blood and gore spray outward. Fingers still clutching the immaculately crafted sandwich, his headless corpse collapses in a heap. Silence reigns, and everything goes black as I’m pulled away from this reality.