A pale blue sky greeted him as he opened his eyes. White clouds were like bubbles above him, moving in odd shapes and sizes as they passed by. An icy wetness soaked through his trousers to the back of his legs. Leaves rustled in trees nearby with the slight breeze that made laying in the water even colder.

He gasped a breath. A demanding voice came to him. “Get up! What are you doing? They’ll catch us!”

They’ll... who was they? “W-what?” he choked out.

“Come on, Fangde. Those hunters are getting closer!” The thing standing above him wasn’t a human, though his voice was like one yet bleak and more grumbly. Standing tall, or maybe it was because he was laying flat on his back, the thing had a huge head and bulbous nose, pointed ears, and a dark hairy body, almost like a... troll’s!

He sat straight up with a splash. “W-where am I?”

“Ugh! Here you go again. Did you hit your head when you fell?” The thing reached down, offering a hand, but he wasn’t about to touch those long, gangly extended fingers.

“B-b-but... no.” He massaged the back of his head. No bumps, or bruises, or pain. “W-who’s Fangde?”

The troll rolled his large, brown eyes. “You. Damn it, now come on!” He thrust down, grabbing hold of Fangde’s hand.

Fangde squirmed and yanked, trying to get away, but the troll was much stronger than him. Of course, he was a damn troll! He dragged his feet in the mud. Maybe that would make it harder to pull him to wherever they were going.

The gentle ringing of bells echoed through the air. They both froze.

“Damn! They’re almost here, brother. We have to go.” The thing jerked on his hand, dragging him out of the mud and onto dryer land.

“Th-they’re?” Fangde ran behind the troll, still unsure who or what they were running from. But if it meant he’d be hurt or even dead, best to run now and find out what the hell was going on later.

His trousers drenched from around his ankles all the way up to around his waist didn’t help at all. Water sloshed in his boots. He wanted to dump out the stray water but didn’t have time. Instead, he had barely any time to focus on anything.

The bells drew louder.

You’d almost think they were playing the sound through a loud speaker! He thought before stopping straight in his tracks.

That was it! Someone was trolling him, hard. It was the only thing possible. Though he wasn’t sure how far out from the city he was. He couldn’t remember there ever being a swampy area in the suburbs. And this dickhead with his stupid makeup job. “Give me a break,” he muttered under breath.

No, this was definitely a prank. “Alright, guys. Jason? Ted? You guys got me, eh. Give it up. I’m done with this Halloween scare, okay?”

The guy was already stopped and staring at him like he had a screw loose. “What’s wrong, Fangde? You must have really hit your head earlier.”

“You know my name’s not Fangde, eh? It’s Jon. And David? That is an awful costume job.” He laughed. Truly though, they really went to some lengths with all of this. When did they even have time to do this with mid-terms coming up?

“Fangde!” The troll-guy huffed and grabbed onto his hand again. “We don’t have time to deal with this right now. Come on!” Dragging him further into the swamp, the thing seemed awfully persistent.

Jon tried to pull away, but alas figured this was all part of the game. He might as well play along, though he wasn’t much a fan for LARP’ing. Still, the area they chose to play in was beautiful. Tall cattails jutted up from the marshes, dancing in the breezes. The sun hovered in the West, signaling that it was closing in on evening hours. Small trees and bushes rustled, and a flock of white, long-tailed birds swooped down to land in a larger pond.

“W-wait! This isn’t... where are we at, anyway?” Jon asked while trying to struggle free from the troll-guy’s grasp.

“Enough with the idiotic questions!” The guy persisted not to tell the truth. By now, wouldn’t someone announce it was all a game?

The bells were even louder, and with each chime the thing seemed to run faster.

“No, you gotta let me go, bro!” Jon yanked and yanked until finally his fingers slipped from the guy’s grasp. As he hit a patch of mud, the sudden motion off-centered him, and he crashed down to his knees in a puddle of muddy water.

“Ugh!” He closed his eyes, reeling in on the sticky, cold mud swooshing between his fingers. “Okay, okay. Tell me what’s going on, huh? Is this a weird LARP game or something?”

“Brother!”

Jon opened his eyes, but something stopped him. The reflection in the water staring back at him. The face alike the ogre’s who stood above him. Huge nose, bulky cheeks, and a chin... a butt chin! His skin was a smidge darker than the other guy’s, like he’d baked in the sun for much too long, or they poured a bucket of paint on him and sloppily pasted hair all over him.

And his clothes were also much different than what he usually wore. No, these clothes looked like they belonged in Medieval Times or something. A plain, brown tunic, ripped around the stomach. Trousers a dark blue, most likely because they were wet, were barely thick enough to protect from the cold air. No wonder his legs were getting so weak.

But this... “What is going on?” he whispered.

The troll-guy suddenly gasped.

Bells sounded loud now, like they were jingling straight next to their eardrums. Two of them, side-by-side. Something whooshed nearby Jon’s head, and the strange aura that followed silenced him.

“B-brother... We’re...” The guy quieted.

The water’s reflection showed a new figure, standing high above Jon. Long, flowing robes of cerulean blue swayed near him in the reflection. A pair of dark, rounded boots stood a little too close. His heart beat fast and loud in his chest. Swallowing his fears, he took a chance and glanced upwards.

The man stood tall, unwavering above him. It wasn’t the ancient-style, elegant robes—hanfu, and belt he wore, nor the boots which clearly were cleaned after every journey in these muddy swamps. It was the sword at his side, and the fact he had his fingers wrapped around its silvery grip.

Shit! Maybe this wasn’t a game?

“Umm...” Jon stayed frozen on his knees in the cold mud. “A-and you are?”

The man grunted down at him.

Jon’s eyes widened. He didn’t recognize the face at all—rounded and flawless, pale complexion, and a petite nose. Almost handsome, by some standards, he didn’t need any makeup to make him that way or did he wear any. The man’s long, black hair was tied at the back of his head, though during the chase some strands must’ve fallen out and now dangled around his face. His eyes bore down at Jon as if he was some kind of enemy.

Okay, so this isn’t a game? What the hell is going on then? Jon remembered—last night he was going to bed. He laid down, struggling to sleep since he was so frustrated about mid-terms. He must’ve finally passed out and then, woke up to this? No, this must be a dream.

Maybe if he slapped and pinched himself, he would wake up.

Lifting a hand from the mud, he whacked his cheek with his palm. Then, again with the other hand. And again, switching hands at least five times. But the harder he hit himself, the more he realized that this “dream” world wasn’t changing. Frustrated, he attacked his arm with his fingers next. A slight pinch on his skin wasn’t changing anything, so he grabbed hold and twisted.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Ah!” Damn, that hurt!

A huff came from above him. The man watched Jon abuse himself, almost humorously, though there wasn’t a smile on his lips. His expression was unchanged, as much as this world.

Finally, Jon dropped his hands back down to his knees. No matter what he did, nothing would wake him up. His eyes trailed back up to the man in front of him.

“Disgusting demons,” the man murmured.

But I’m not a demon!

“Sir, please,” the thing said, bowing his head. “My brother is a little troublesome at times.”

“Silence!” The man ordered. He drew his sword halfway from its sheath. “Best to quickly send you both back to the underworld!”

“Please, no. Sir, please understand—” The thing begged.

Jon’s stomach was doing laps in on itself. He blinked and blinked, trying to figure out what was going on. If this was a dream, this was really some fucking dream. He had to get out of it soon. He trembled as he folded his hands and thrust them out.

“Please, sir!” he founded himself pleading on his knees. “Please, don’t hurt me. I-I don’t belong here.”

The man grumbled with impatience.

“I-I was sleeping and suddenly, I’m here. Really, believe me! I... My name isn’t Fangde,” he said, turning toward the troll. “It’s Jon. I’m a college student at the University and I really just want to go back!”

The man’s fingers flexed around his sword as he continued to glare down at Jon.

“Umm, Sir,” the thing said. “My brother, his mind isn’t right, see. He’s always saying outrageous things like this. Please forgive him.”

“No!” Jon leapt up. “It’s true. I’m really not from around here. I’m from the city.”

The man’s hard stare relaxed. His lips twitched.

“Please, you gotta believe me.” Jon held up his folded hands and bowed his head.

The clank of the sword sliding back into its sheath interrupted the awkward silence. Jon opened his eyes and peered up at the man, noticing his arms now dropped to his sides, his long sleeves brushing past his fingers.

“Very well,” the man said. “I shall give you a day, but hurry. There are more seekers behind me. They’ll find you.” The man turned around and took a step as if prepared to leave.

Jon straightened his spine. “Oh! Yes, yes. Thank you, good sir.” He couldn’t believe his pleas really worked!

A hand wrapped around his shoulder. “Come, brother. You just saved us from certain death. I shall thank you later.”

Jon turned on heel, remembering he was still in the presence of that troll-guy, who most likely wasn’t a LARP’er or cosplayer. He still didn’t know what the hell was going on, but he nodded and followed the troll lest he be found by the other hunters.

He really was still too young to die.

***

Smoke billowed up into the air from the jasmine rich, fragrant incense burning in the middle of the room. Laughter filled the corners of the pavilion, and all around were times of peace and tranquility. The floor covered with plump red and white pillows to sit upon, or lay a head on depending on one’s need. A cool breeze wafted in from the open door, the sheer white curtains doing little to block it.

He sat there cross-legged with his sword’s silver sheath on his lap and sword in hand. Ever since he was young, he loved to watch his father in the treasure room. All types of swords, paintings, pottery, and statues were gathered in the room. And when he was eight, his father presented him the sword, Night’s Fall. It was truly his favorite sword of all, one that brought him a strange giddiness every time he saw his father clean it.

With a cloth, he smoothed over the blade, wiping away dust and dirt and potential left-over blood from today’s hunt. Though such a task usually provided him with the greatest sense of peace, Bai Yazhu focused not on cleaning his sword tonight but on the creature he’d met earlier.

Such a strange beast, indeed. The larger demon wasn’t of much concern; a normal thing which needed to be dealt with soon. It was the shorter one that plagued his mind. The dan jiao appeared to be a normal ogre demon with its large, bulging ears and fat-shaped head, and tattered clothes as if it’d crawled out of some disgusting hole in the ground. One such as he Bai Yazhu would have no trouble banishing to the dark underworld.

No, Bai Yazhu was quite surprised by this demon. It wasn’t the standard dan jiao demon at all by the way it spoke. With hands folded out in front of him, the creature had begged for mercy. Not the way dan jiao usually begged, either.

There’d been many demons who pleaded for their lives in the past before Bai Yazhu took their heads. Some had begged lightly, others had kowtowed and cried. It never mattered before, he always sent them away whether with talisman’s or his sword.

“Please, don’t hurt me. I-I don’t belong here.” Those words came back to him. Don’t belong here? Bai Yazhu thought quietly just like he did earlier in the day.

What exactly had the dan jiao meant?

He paused a moment, hand still clenched onto his sword’s hilt. “I’m from the city. You gotta believe me.” City? And which city had he meant?

None of it really made sense to Bai Yazhu, but then again, it was quite entertaining to witness the demon punishing itself. And the larger one beside him apologized for his brother’s doing, too.

But it didn’t make him laugh like the other’s would. Instead, he decided to let the two have pardon. Bai Yazhu tensed. What exactly was he thinking?

“Argh!” He lifted his hand away from the cleaning cloth, a drop of blood oozing from the nick on his forefinger.

With a sigh, he wrapped his finger in the cloth and set his sword back into its sheath. He couldn’t concentrate on the one thing that always set his mind at ease. Instead, he closed his eyes and tried to clear his wandering thoughts.

A woman’s cackling from behind him made it difficult. Another joined in with her, then a man’s voice. “Come, come, ladies. I’m sure nothing is wrong.”

The rustling drew closer. An arm wrapped around Bai Yazhu’s neck, pulling him in to a hard body. The breath against his cheek tainted with rice wine. “What are you over here for? Come drink with us.”

Bai Yazhu clenched his eyes tighter. “Not tonight.”

“What’s wrong?” The body moved away at last, but the man still hovered over him. “It’s not like you to refuse a night of drinking after a successful hunt.”

“I have something on my mind, is all.”

“Oh? Is it that your hunt wasn’t so successful?” The man nudged his arm. “What of the dan jiao you were chasing?”

Luckily, his partner had gone off hunting something else before Bai Yazhu found those demons, or they’d surely be dead. “Never found them,” Bai Yazhu whispered.

“You never found them? Hmm, I’m sure the amulet I’ve given you supplied you with enough spiritual power. And that is why you’re so sour tonight?”

“It wasn’t the amulet.” Bai Yazhu dare not agree, but just his silence gave it away. Instead of speaking about it more, he said, “Please, Xu Shiuan, let me be tonight.”

“Aww!” Xu Shiuan wrapped both his arms around Bai Yazhu’s neck and leaned in close. “I’m sorry you didn’t catch them. Do you need my support, huh?” His voice suddenly deep and husky as he whispered, “I can send away the girls if you wish.”

Bai Yazhu sighed. It was always like this with him, and there were times Bai Yazhu found himself caving in to that wanton voice. “Not tonight.” He jerked away to stand, and Xu Shiuan slipped away.

“Hmm? Perhaps you need a drink?” Xu Shiuan was quick to join his side with a jar of liquor. He waved it in front of Bai Yazhu’s nose. “Don’t worry, there’s always tomorrow’s hunt. Come now, you’ll feel better soon, I promise!”

“No!” Bai Yazhu waved it away.

Xu Shiuan pouted as he struggled to stand atop the plump pillows under his feet. He held the edge of his pitch black robes with one hand, trying not to trip over them.

Though they weren’t from the same sect originally, their fates were the same thus they were now together. Bai Yazhu’s robes were custom tailored after he’d enough coin to afford it—a gorgeous cerulean blue he could only find in the Northern territories with strips of lotus-printed brocade silk running across his collars. His belt was the same beautiful color and brocade. It all cost quite a bit, he remembered, as he wandered away from the tailor’s shop broke and hungry.

Xu Shiuan had admired his robes so much, he secretly traveled to the same tailor and bought his own wardrobe. Pitch black robes with the same strip of cobalt lotus-printed brocade running around his neck, and a belt to match. He cherished his new outfit so much, he paraded around Bai Yazhu for months afterwards, flashing their robes to every passerby whether commoner or cultivator.

“Look at us, we’re matching, too!” He’d yell obnoxiously into the wind. “Sir, sir! You want to know where such beautiful work comes from, huh?”

Even now, he still managed to try not to damage his precious robes, and even when drunk he was sure to protect them as best he could.

“Bai Yazhu, listen to me, huh?” Xu Shiuan stood in front of him. “Maybe a night-hunt would do you good. I can come with you, brother, if you insist.”

A night-hunt? It was possible that he’d feel better if he caught something today. Even if it was just slaughtering a jiangshi or hordes of walking corpses, that could put a smile on his face.

“Yes,” he muttered under breath.

Xu Shiuan raised his head. “Good idea! Let me get my swor—”

“No,” Bai Yazhu cupped his shoulder. “Stay here. I’ll go alone tonight.”

“Should you run into any trouble?”

Bai Yazhu let a small grin spread on his lips. “I won’t be long. A few corpses shouldn’t be a problem, and I’ll use the amulet if I need to.” He thumbed across the thing hanging from his belt.

Slinking away, Xu Shiuan plopped down on the pillows. “Very well. I’ll be waiting your return. Then, perhaps you will drink with me.”

The two girls crawled their way to Xu Shiuan’s side, neither of them dare to smile or laugh as they stared at Bai Yazhu.

Bai Yazhu nodded. “I’ll drink with you upon my return.” He turned and brushed away the curtains as he left the pavilion.