Micro, an ordinary boy in white robes, wandered along the sidewalk without moving very far from his original position. He wondered why everything seemed so familiar, and why some things filled him with such overwhelming feelings. As he began to wonder what he was feeling, an old lady walked into his shoulder.
“Ouch!” A lady shouted angrily, though she quickly corrected her posture and adjusted her glasses.
“What are you doing, wandering around in a daze like that?!”
Micro asked himself the same question as the lady briskly continued her walk.
“I feel like… I was going somewhere...” Micro wondered.
“I have to carry something- no... keep it safe...”
Micro closed his eyes tightly, searching for the image of his goal in his mind, but his efforts only exhausted him. He felt like screaming in frustration as the noisy people and cars pulled his attention away from his mysterious purpose, but a single sound washed away every thought in his mind all at once.
ERRRGGG
CRASH
He looked up to see a small truck on its side, wrapped awkwardly around a telephone pole beside the road. Onlookers gasped at the scene, traffic ground to a halt, while one boy stood motionless in the road, a phone in his hand, staring blankly at the truck.
Micro pushed the boy aside as he ran straight to the scene of the accident, not knowing why he felt compelled to do so. The sound of the engine dying and oil dripping down the chassis to the road drowned out every sound around him. The smell of hot rubber and metal made him sick. From a single pace away, he heard the fuzzy sound of music cease as the trucks' lights died.
Still unable to process his own actions, he pulled the truck off its side, resting it gently on its flattened tires. The glass shattered and steel creaked as the small truck settled. He grasped the handle, but it wouldn't move. He pushed his hand through the half-shattered window and tore the entire door off, casting it aside as his eyes began to water.
“Are you...” Micro struggled to speak. The old man in the driver's seat was slumped limply over the steering wheel, and the blood dripping from his head sent an icy chill through Micro's chest.
“Hey... get up...”
Micro unbuckled the man's seat belt and pulled him out. The strength in his legs began to fail, and he fell to his knees, resting the old man's head on his lap.
“Ha....” A laboured breath escaped the man's mouth.
Micro felt like his heart could finally beat again at the sound of the man's voice.
“Somebody...!” Micro found his voice.
“Help! An. An ambulance! Call a-”
He didn't bother wondering why he knew what an ambulance was, but he realized his cries for help would not be heard. Wherever he turned to look, not a single person was visible. The roads were empty of cars. He was alone.
Micro desperately searched for somebody, something, anything that could help the old man before him, but less of the world remained the longer he looked. Buildings seemed to disappear whenever he blinked, the roads grew darker, the clouds seemed nearer, the horizon felt closer, and the air felt colder.
“Help!” Micro feebly called out again, but the cold ground beneath him and the foggy, cold air around him muffled his cries.
“Leave him.” Micro's own voice suddenly echoed in his own mind.
“Huh...?” Micro gasped.
“Leave.” The voice repeated.
A shapeless red light began to glow in the distance to his right. Micro was sure it was the source of the voice, though he could only hear the voice in his mind.
“Leave...!” The voice in his head said again.
Suddenly, a yellow light appeared to the left. The light seemed to be coming from a small doorway.
“Help me.” Micro quietly pleaded, but the voice in his head replied.
“Leave him.” It stated coldly.
The smell of rust then assaulted Micro's nose. The red light glowed brighter, as if something were approaching Micro.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Micro waited anxiously to see what was approaching, but before he could discern the nature of the approaching force, he felt the skin on his face begin to sting. He wondered if his skin was burning, but he wasn’t hot.
He felt the muscles in his hands twitch, and he wished he could shield his own face from the harsh light, but he bent over to protect the old man instead. He didn't know why the dying man was worth more to him than his own safety, but the only thing Micro knew was that he wouldn't let any more harm come to the man as long as he was alive.
“Leave!”
Micro began to understand that the yellow glow of the distant doorway to his left was the only safe place he could run to as the painful red light continued to glow brighter as it drew nearer.
“Leave him here!” Micro's own inner voice demanded.
He struggled to his feet, picking the old man up in his arms.
“You can not save him!” The voice went on.
The old man was heavy in his arms.
“You do not need him!”
Heavier than he was just moments ago.
“Save yourself.”
Heavier with each passing moment.
Micro's knees ached under the weight of his passenger.
He only grew heavier.
Micro's back burned as the rusty mist caught up to him.
“Leave him behind.”
His own voice begged him.
“No...” Micro answered without hesitation.
Heavier...
The red mist enveloped him.
His lungs ached as the red fog caught his breath.
His pace slowed.
The old man groaned in pain.
Micro tucked the man's head under his chin.
He was so heavy.
Micro could still see the exit.
“You will find another driver.”
But his vision was blurry.
The mist burned his eyes.
“You will outlive him anyway!”
The smell of rust made him sick.
“Leave him behind!” The voice echoed.
Micro kept walking.
Heavier...
“Save yourself!” The voice demanded.
Micro couldn't reply.
“Why waste your life?!”
He kept walking.
“You shall die in vain!” The voice shouted angrily.
Micro didn't notice the voice anymore.
“You fool!” The voice was full of rage.
Micro heard nothing.
His shoulders cracked.
His grip weakened.
He didn't let go.
He couldn't hear.
He couldn't see.
He knew he was close to the exit.
The pain made it hard to measure his pace.
Everything ached.
Everything burned.
But he felt the warmth of the passenger in his arms.
He kept walking.
~
“Huh?” Micro opened his eyes with a confused grunt. He looked down at his arms, where the old man should have been. But he held nothing, standing in a dungeon full of gold.
“Wow...” The dungeon's regal guardian muttered with a frown.
“That was...” Micro stuttered.
“A dream?”
Ka-rim only nodded his head slowly for a moment.
“The old man wasn't really there, right...?” Micro asked Ka-Rim, frowning back at the dragon.
“He's safe?”
“Hmm.” Ka-Rim stroked his beard and leaned forward in his chair.
“You lack understanding.”
“I agree.” Micro nodded.
“What just happened?”
“Nothing you saw was real.” Ka-Rim began, putting Micro at ease.
“I sealed your memories, placed you before that which you treasure, and created the nightmare from which you escaped.”
“A nightmare...” Micro grimaced.
“I don't have those anymore.”
“You deceive yourself.” Ka-Rim replied.
“Your nightmares live deep within you, whether you choose to face them or not. I did not search long before finding fears of immense scale.”
“I see...” Micro looked away, his hand rising to his shoulder unconsciously.
“You may not understand my words entirely, but you have passed the trial.” Ka-Rim continued.
“But I am perplexed.”
“What's wrong?” Micro asked.
“Did you lose something?”
“You should not have passed the trial, lost child of fate.” Ka-Rim explained, ignoring Micro's question.
“You are wholly unqualified to walk the path of a dragon. Your greed is far superior, but your desires are mundane.”
“My desires?” Micro frowned.
“The Dragon Art in this dungeon is earned by those who escape the nightmare of loss.” Ka-Rim went on.
“Whatever you treasure most is only a weight to you in that nightmare. The treasures a dragon has yet to attain are what give a dragon's life meaning. But even with your memories sealed, you believed you could never find a greater treasure. The fear I sensed in you was…”
“He isn't a gold coin.” Micro interjected, annoyance in his voice.
“He's my driver.”
“A fleeting relationship between a mortal and a machine, no?” Ka-Rim scoffed.
“You walk the path of a cultivator. You will form countless relationships as you journey through this realm. For a single acquaintance to be ingrained in the essence of your soul…”
“What's your point?” Micro was growing more agitated by Ka-Rim's words.
“And not only did you cling so desperately to such a small prize...” Ka-Rim's voice lowered.
“You actually succeeded in carrying the mortal to the edge of your nightmare, which itself was absurd. This is uncommon, if not unique...”
“Small prize...?” Micro repeated, clenching his fists.
“Despite your pathetic mortal form, you actually carried such a burden?” The dragon continued to glare suspiciously as he spoke.
“I’m reliable.” Micro grumbled, his voice trembling.
“What cultivator would equate a single lost relationship to the end of all things…?” Ka-Rim said with an exasperated tone.
“Power, wealth, friends, family... You may add to your treasures indefinitely, as long as you are alive.”
“I don't need any treasure.” Micro's voice was nearly a growl.
“So it seems, and yet you did not die...” Ka-Rim laughed.
“The amount of pain you overcame, and the amount of strength you found in yourself...”
“What about it?” Micro asked curtly.
“Well, it is certainly worthy of reward.” Ka-Rim answered.
“I need core cards.” Micro said.
“Anything that will get me closer to returning to my home, please.”
“In another realm, no less.” Ka-Rim nodded.
“Then I shall waste no more of your time. In fact, I shall give you all the time you need, for I know not what catastrophe would find this world my creator loved should you be cornered by time itself.”
Micro quickly grabbed the three amber core cards which materialized in front of him, nodded his head in gratitude, and walked to the exit.
“May your impossible greed become a strength, and not a weakness, strange child...” Ka-Rim called out as Micro disappeared into the portal without replying.