Chapter XV

Right before his eyes, he was witnessing a dream.

***

Ever since he had been old enough to read, he’d been wishing and praying to anybody who would listen, human and god alike, to just allow him to escape from his life and flee into a fantastical world of fantasy and magic. Most would grow out of such immature and childish desires, but he never did. In fact, the older he got, the more desperately he wanted it. With adulthood came a jaded feeling, waves of depression, and a brutal loneliness he couldn’t ever rid himself of. His father had left before he was born, his mother had passed away, he didn’t have siblings, nobody liked him enough to befriend him, and thus he had no girlfriend. He didn’t feel comfortable around his coworkers, many of whom weren’t interested in talking and simply wanted to power through the day so they could get home. There were times when he didn’t even have a chance to speak to anybody, and when he read an excellent book or watched an awesome television show, he would get a surge of excitement at the idea of getting to gush about it, only to fall back into a pit at the recollection that there was nobody in his life that cared.

He got bitter, and bitter individuals were not attractive, so fewer people wanted anything to do with him. His life was his books, and they were the only things keeping him from taking a gun to his skull and pulling the trigger. Every time he came close, every time the barrel was pressed against his temple, he would stop himself for the mere reason that he wanted to know the fates of the characters he read about, to find out whether they would get the happy endings it seemed he would never enjoy. He had a feeling that, eventually, there would come a time when the plot of a story wasn't good enough to stay his finger, but until then, he would keep slogging along with the sole desire of getting home so he could curl up in his chair and read.

This got progressively harder, and one day, he had a particularly bad time at work. His boss had gone off on him, though he couldn’t really decipher what the problem was. The man was clearly annoyed about something else in his life and was taking it out on the janitor, and in his enraged ramblings, he couldn’t really figure out the issue. All he knew was that he had done nothing wrong, and this man did not have the right to scream at him like that.

All day, he ruminated on that interaction, growing more and more mad the longer it lingered in his thoughts, so that by the time his shift was ending, he was utterly livid. That was why, when he passed the museum’s current exhibit and noticed that somebody had removed the glass over an ancient dagger and had disappeared without finishing the job, impulsivity won out over logic. Moving rather subtly, he pulled the dagger from the pedestal, slipped it underneath his jacket, then continued to his car as if nothing was the matter. A part of him thought about selling it for some hard cash and fleeing the country, and the other part just wanted to embarrass his boss. There were plenty of cameras in the museum, so there was no question that he’d been seen. But the simple fact of the matter was that he took it and got away, so it was highly likely that his boss would get fired for this negligence.

Ha! Get fucked, loser…

When he got home, he plopped himself into his chair, and glanced down at the coffee table, upon which was the final book in the “Eye of God” series. He had read that trilogy numerous times, and the previous night, he had finished it once again. It was one of his favorites, and the alchemist, Uma Miyon, was probably his favorite character of all time. He was a brilliant man who often got the protagonist out of sticky situations with his alchemical brilliance and his strategic mind to match. In fact, if not for him, the protagonist probably wouldn’t have saved the realm of Nevarash, leading to many in the fandom considering him the true hero. There was even a running theory that Uma was supposed to be the protagonist, and that the publishers encouraged the author to come up with a more generic lead so that the audience could project themselves onto him easier. It made sense, especially considering that the protagonist had barely a quarter of the love poured into him that Uma Miyon did.

Yes, there’s no question that Uma is the real protagonist—the true hero of Nevarash.

Perhaps another reason he loved him so much was because he was also quite fascinated by science, especially biology and chemistry. He’d been reading books and articles for years, and even majored in chemistry in college. He’d wanted to be a scientist, or perhaps even a professor, but while he was passionate about the subjects, he was a bad student. He didn’t like homework, he wasn’t good at writing essays, and as such, he graduated with a very low GPA—one that wasn’t strong enough to get him into any of the graduate schools he wanted. So while he considered himself quite smart, nobody else believed him, and thus he was forced to take whatever job he could—even a museum janitor.

He sighed, glancing down to admire the dagger in his hands. It was unique, and according to the museum exhibit, it had been recovered by archaeologists from the tomb of an ancient king. It was probably the most valuable item in that exhibit, for it was the only one that was such a mystery. All of the other treasures were typical of kings from that era, such as gold and other valuable items. But this dagger had a sort of alien feel to it, and from what he knew, it was unclear what the blade was even made out of. The bright, blueish-green metal was unlike anything he had ever seen, leaving him wondering who managed to pull the strings to get it into a museum collection.

My boss must be utterly panicked right now… he thought with a euphoric glee. Such a priceless, one-of-a-kind item, vanished under his watch.

As he thought this, he noticed what appeared to be a small ruby button on the hilt, though it was so stiff and the grooves caked with crust that if it actually was a button of sorts, it wouldn’t budge without some cleaning—cleaning it probably didn’t get for fear of damaging the artifact. However, since he would be getting arrested for theft anyway, he decided that if he damaged it in the attempt to clean it, then it would only further the stress placed onto his boss. Therefore, smirking to himself, he retrieved a small pocket knife and began gradually chipping away at the grooves.

Was it really a button? Probably not. After all, what sort of mechanism would it activate? It was just a dagger.

But you know what, what if it is a button? It’s such a mysterious item that maybe it contains some alien technology, or even some magic... Wouldn’t that be fun?

He didn’t know how long he was cleaning it, but at some point, when he pushed the button, it actually slid into the hilt, and to his utter shock, the blade was suddenly engulfed in a bright yellow light. The man jumped, releasing the dagger as it toppled to the carpet, the light going out once the button was no longer pressed.

What the fuck was that?! Don’t tell me it…?

Scrambling to the floor to retrieve it, he frantically pressed the button again, watching in awe as the dagger returned to its yellow glow. He had no idea what was happening, but as he stared at it for a few seconds, he realized that it wasn’t doing anything except glow. Confused, he carefully reached his pointer finger towards the blade, wondering if it was some form of fire or metal-heating, but to his surprise, it didn’t give off any temperature at all. In fact, touching it didn’t feel any different than without the light.

Strange. Then what’s the purpose? Is it just ceremonial? Are there some form of ancient lights within the blade? But no… How could it still be powered after all these centuries? No known energy source could last that long.

An idea striking him, he wondered if anything would happen should he swing it around, such as a shift in the color or something else that could have been a part of an ancient ceremony. So, he sliced downwards at the air before him, disappointed when the dagger’s blade remained the same.

That disappointment lasted barely a second before he realized that there was a small yellow ‘cut’ in the air that followed the blade’s arc. He frowned, wondering what caused that when the cut snapped outwards into an oval of swirling yellow energy. He stumbled backwards, his finger slipping from the button and once again deactivating the dagger’s glow, but that didn’t remove the strange oval like he expected.

Wait…? Could it be? It almost looks like…a portal?

He was not afraid of death, and his theft of this dagger had essentially ended his free life, so despite knowing nothing about what he had just done, he scooped up the dagger, bolted forward, and jumped inside the yellow.

If he died, so be it.

Why should he care?

Because, if it truly were a portal to another world, then his dream would have come true.

It felt like he was floating in water for what might have only been a few seconds before his feet once again landed on solid ground.

Right before his eyes, he was witnessing a dream.

His eyes went wide, his jaw dropped, and he slowly scanned his surroundings to find himself in what appeared to be a town square, for all around him were market stalls and beige buildings, with a cobblestone road of the same color connecting them all and going around the perimeter of the giant elevated square pedestal he was currently standing on. He stood just in front of a large, curved archway, the swirling yellow portal filling the entire thing for a few more seconds before it slowly got smaller before disappearing altogether. There were people everywhere, talking and laughing, dressed in white cloaks and robes, some of which appeared like they were made of silk and resembled the clothing of desert civilizations from his own world. In fact, he must have been in the desert given the arid air and the brown hills he could somewhat make out in the distance.

You’re kidding me… It really was a portal?! I’m…in another world?!

He then wondered if travelers from other realms were commonplace, for nobody was actually looking at him, or even so much as acknowledging his presence. He would have at least expected some looks of intrigue, but before he could dwell on that odd realization, a voice reached his ears.

“Welcome to Ijiria, Friend.”

Startled by the sudden voice, he jumped back and tripped over his feet, falling backwards onto his ass as he frantically gazed up with surprise at the person in front of him. She was a young girl, maybe in her early teens, walking around the side of the portal as she tenderly extended a hand to him. She was smiling sweetly, with long hazel hair and a soft green dress that fell all the way down to her ankles. However, his eyes remained on her for barely a second before he noticed the large man behind her, clad head-to-toe in sparkling red armor, a glaive attached to his back. He was like a knight from the medieval era, and before he realized it, he was grinning ear to ear.

“Ijiria, you said?” he muttered, gently taking her offered hand and allowing her to pull him back to his feet. “Is that the name of this town?”

The girl tilted her head curiously as she looked him over. “No, the ‘town’ is known as Portaros, and I assure you it’s much more than a mere town. Nope, Ijiria is the name of the country we’re in, and it’s located on the singular continent of Calkorai. Currently, we’re in the Empire’s southern territory, a mere half-a-day’s ride from the Great City of Krato.”

“I-is that so?” He chuckled, his heart beating so fast that he wondered if the young girl could hear it. “And are you, by chance, a goddess? You see, it’s a staple of these sorts of stories that the hero is summoned by a goddess and given the responsibility of saving the world from the dark lord. Is that what you’re here to do?”

There was a flicker of amusement in her eyes as she listened to him speak, and when she twisted her lips in thought, it seemed almost mischievous. “Well, I’m not a goddess, but I do speak for one. My name is Tali Firrik, the Voice of the Goddess Rei, and I was sent by her to retrieve you before anybody could get ahold of you. This man here is my knight, Barron Kristoff.”

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“Charmed,” he replied, mimicking the formal bows that were commonplace in fantasy worlds. “May I ask why you needed to retrieve me?”

She smirked. “Well, to put it in your words, there’s a dark lord to be stopped. He’s a mad King who has this Empire under his iron grasp, and Rei believes you are one of the keys to defeating him. Therefore, she has sent me and Sir Kristoff to protect you. Why do you think none of the civilians have noticed us? He is casting distortion magic so that nobody even realizes this portal was opened.”

Distortion? So we’re invisible right now? I suppose that explains that…

He was thrilled beyond belief, for all his life, he had been mocked and ridiculed for believing so strongly in the existence of magic, but his beliefs had never wavered, and now he was chosen by a Goddess to defeat some evil king. It was almost too good to be true, but as he clutched the magical dagger in his hands, he knew without question that it was real. After all, if a simple dagger could let him hop realms, then was anything truly impossible?

“So, what’s your name, Mister Omaruan?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but his voice caught in his throat before he could give the truth. No… My name is unremarkable. It is not the name of a hero. It’s hardly the name of a background character. If I am to start my hero’s journey, then I must have a name to match it. Therefore…

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Firrik! My name is Uma Miyon, and I highly anticipate serving the Goddess, Rei!”

***

He was gazing into the dead eyes of Rotana Vesh’s severed head, still laying where Ryokumo had tossed it a mere minute before taking off alongside Nigreos and Toranei. Uma felt sick, for while he had seen death plenty of times since coming to Ijiria, he’d never been in such close proximity to the corpse of somebody he’d known—who he’d talked with, ate with, and lived with all these many years. It was just his head, tossed aside like a piece of garbage and no longer containing the consciousness of the man that Uma had worked with. He’d already been in a desperate state of defeat following the beatdown Koroha Rhitta inflicted upon him, but to find out that Vesh was dead just drove the dagger even deeper into his gut, and the pure rage that had been boiling within him at the end of his fight reignited, creating a malice so powerful that if given the option, he would have beaten Tali Firrik so bloody that there would have been nothing left with which to identify her. He hated the Ijirians, sure, but he loathed the woman who sang such sweet songs into his ear, who gained his undying trust, and then abandoned him to the mercy of Koroha and the others.

And now Vesh, too, is gone… I had faith in Firrik, but nobody, except maybe Kristoff, was as loyal to her as Rotana Vesh. How the fuck could she do this to him?! How could she just turn her back on him?! If she really cared about us, she would have done everything in her power to try and avert this future—to stop it from happening, but instead she prostrated herself before her visions and sacrificed people who risked everything for her!

He was fuming as he lay there on the rocks, missing all four of his limbs from the elbows and knees down. All he could do was pray that Album Luz had died somewhere in that fortress, for he wanted death more than he wanted erasure. Unfortunately, he’d already attempted to bash his skull against the ground and kill himself before Album could get there, but Edwar Grunly was on top of him in an instant, healing his wounds faster than he could create them. Even now, the Master of Nature lingered nearby as a silent threat to him.

It was then that there was a sudden noise just behind him, as if somebody had been tossed onto the ground next him. Swallowing his terror, fearing he was about to gaze into the eyes of another corpse, Uma weakly rolled onto his other shoulder to find Rickori Keskivaara laying there, thankfully unconscious based on his breathing, though he was clearly not okay given the blackened stump of his right arm.

Keskivaara? You’re alive? Why? Why would they spare you? Do they intend to erase you along with me?

“Ah, so here’s where Miyon was left.”

A chill went down his spine at the sound of that deep, rumbling voice, and before he could wonder who spoke, a hand grabbed him by the neck and lifted him from the ground, turning him so that he was now staring at a green-haired, bearded man whose smile was dark and amused.

King Markreas…

It was the dark lord of his story, undefeated and victorious. Behind him stood Nakoma and Koroha, and suddenly, he desperately wanted to know what became of the red knight who was left behind to face down the Master of Fire.

If Taurus is here…? No… Then Sir Kristoff…?

“Your luck ran out, it seems,” Markreas sneered. “You cultists may have gotten lucky in Hiriech and Stellareid, but that luck was finite, and now my Empire can be free of your stain. This was an inevitable conclusion, you filthy magicless, especially for subhuman scum like you.”

The King released him, causing him to land on the stumps of his legs and resulting in him crying out in severe pain before rolling on his back and thrashing around. Markreas’s foot then jammed into his stomach, pushing the breath out of him as he was wracked with even more agony.

“Barron Kristoff is dead,” Markreas whispered, confirming that horrible reality Uma had been so terrified of. “And as you can see, so is Rotana Vesh. Keskivaara’s demise isn’t far off, and you’ll be shipped into the erased realm momentarily. Do you understand me, Uma Miyon? You’re pathetic.”

When the boot was lifted, Uma sucked in air so fast that he began to cough. Barron was dead, too, and at the moment, Leiolai and Quill were unaccounted for. He didn’t give a damn what became of Tali, but he hoped the other two, at least, made it out. However, perhaps his hope showed on his face because Markreas’s smile turned darker as he glanced up at something not far away before calling out,

“Glaus! Come here a second!”

Uma frowned as he watched Rennigan Glaus meekly walk into view, the young man’s features seeming almost distraught as he shuffled towards King Markreas. It created another small flicker of hope, for why would Rennigan look like that if he succeeded at defeating one of his allies?

“My King,” Rennigan greeted with a stiff bow. “H-how may I help you?”

“Make your report. You were tasked with eliminating Quill Tyrus alongside Masters Cartus and Rana. What happened, and where are the Masters of Rock and Water?”

Again, the young man hesitated, licking his lips nervously as if he had bad news to provide. Markreas suddenly seemed nervous, indicating even he was beginning to wonder if Quill eluded them. But as Uma knew, the Goddess had already abandoned them.

“I succeeded in killing Tyrus, My King, but I was injured, so the Masters sent me back here while they handled clearing the rest of the fortress.”

Uma’s face fell as Markreas’s wild sneering returned, his deep blue eyes locking onto the magicless man below him. A low laughter started to slip from his lips, one that slowly morphed into a loud victorious noise as he continued to make a mockery of Uma. Rennigan was clearly uncomfortable while Uma just tried to block the sound out—to close his eyes and ears to ever-growing torment.

Damn it all… Why? Why did you abandon us, Rei?! Why did you fucking lie to us, Firrik?! He refused to cry in Markreas presence, knowing that the King was trying to break him into tears—to emotionally abuse him until he was nothing but a shell of himself. Vesh, Kristoff, Tyrus… They’re gone… They’re all dead! It’s not fair! We just wanted to help people! We just wanted to make this world a better place! And I…just wanted to be happy… That’s all I ever wanted—to make my life worth something and to be proud of who I was! Ijiria gave me that place! It was the fantasy world of my dreams… But in what fucking novel does the dark lord win?!

It was then that Markreas and Rennigan suddenly turned around, that motion accompanied by the footsteps of multiple people. Uma weakly tilted his head, having a nasty feeling of who it was, only to find Toranei, Ilirianna, Ryokumo, Nigreos, and Album approaching their position. There was a moment of relief on their faces upon seeing Rennigan, with Ryokumo personally going up and giving him a welcoming pat on the back as he muttered,

“Did you do it, Glaus?”

Yet, the young man retained that mismatch of sadness when he responded. “I did, yes… Quill Tyrus is gone.”

“He is?” Ryokumo furrowed his brow with confusion. “Then why aren’t you grinning ear-to-ear, my friend? What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“No, not a thing. I’m just tired from combat, is all…”

Uma didn’t believe Rennigan, so he was confident that Ryokumo wouldn’t either, but the interaction was cut short before the wind mage could press the matter when Markreas addressed his wife and perceived daughter.

“Where did all of you run off to? I heard a lot of chaos off in the distance, but got here after things quieted down. Was everything alright?”

Toranei snorted, sparing a quick nod to Nakoma and Koroha still lingering behind the King before she answered. “As it turns out, Leiolai Sartella can now become a dragon. Liri engaged her while Noctis and Caeli joined me in providing backup. The four of us were enough to overwhelm her, but her changeling magic is versatile and she unfortunately got away. We’ll need to be cautious going forward, for so long as that woman exists, biological magic is a threat to our security.”

What?! Sartella got away! Yes! Somebody made it out!

Now, all he had to hope for was that Tali had been killed by Ilirianna, who Ryokumo said had gone further into the castle to take her out. Unfortunately, the one person he wanted dead was quickly revealed to be fine.

“Firrik survived as well,” Ilirianna added. “Sartella’s dragon form was a means of ensuring she got away, though the Voice should still be in Ankalla, so I’m hoping we can cut her off. After all, she can’t get out without either heading through the gates or going underground. At this point, I’m banking on Master Ka finishing her for us.”

Markreas twisted his lips in thought as he took in the first set of bad news he’d received. “Interesting… Very well… Koro, do you mind rendezvousing with Seiras and checking to see if Firrik showed herself or not?”

Koroha nodded, replying, “At once, My King,” before turning on her heel and bolting back into Ankalla.

It was then that Ilirianna spoke again. “So, why’s Keskivaara alive? I thought you were frothing at the mouth to execute him?”

Markreas glanced back at the young woman for a second before sparing a look at the unconscious People’s Mind. His features turned bitter, and when he answered, his words were venomous. “It’s a complicated set of circumstances and I’ll explain it momentarily, but let’s just say that I’ve deemed his survival as more beneficial than his death. With that said, I have business to attend to first. Master Luz!” When he suddenly addressed Album, the Master of Light stiffened with surprise, seemingly snapping out of her thoughts and back to the present. “Erase Uma Miyon right this instant.”

There it was, the order that the magicless man was dreading. When Album arrived, he knew Markreas wouldn’t waste time, especially not after he slipped away in Stellareid, so unless something huge happened in the next few seconds, Uma was doomed.

“We’ll follow the same rules we set back when Cartigan caught him,” the King went on. “Do not erase him from the minds of Ijiria, for I do not want to inadvertently change anything. However, by the law of the Oralian Isolation Act, he must be purged from the memories of Omaruo.”

Album bowed without question. “Very well. At once, My King.”

Even with these new standards set, even knowing he wouldn’t be forgotten by the Kosah-Rei, Uma still couldn’t accept this as his fate. But as if expecting him to thrash around, Markreas leaned down, put his giant palm on Uma’s head, then pressed it against the ground with more force than necessary. His other hand was placed firmly against Uma’s stomach, and lacking his limbs, there wasn’t anything he could do.

No! Stop this! I don’t want this! I don’t want to be erased! It’s not fucking fair!

He couldn’t see past Markreas’s hand, but he felt the sudden insertion in his chest, as if something large had been stabbed inside of him, only to be pulled out a second later. Uma shrieked out in agony and terror, but he was powerless.

He had always been powerless, and the only reason he made it this far in Ijiria was because Tali had protected him. He desperately wanted to be the protagonist of this story, to save the world from the dark lord and go down in history as a legend—a revolutionary the future generations could look upon with respect. The Kosah-Rei were going to destroy the monarchy, the unfairness of the world, and bring Rei’s Utopia to the forgotten people of Ijiria.

But in one day, the Kosah-Rei was eradicated.

“Erasurei.”

A tremor went through his body when Album uttered that singular word.

“STOP THIS!” he shrieked, but Markreas just laughed at him like he had before.

Uma struggled in vain, unable to do anything as he began to lose feeling in his body.

In the end, he was grateful that the King was covering his face, for this time, he could not stop himself from crying. He thought of Vesh, Leiolai, Barron, and Quill, their faces flickering through his head one final time.

And then, he pictured Tali Firrik, and longing was replaced by rage.

FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU FOR ABANDONING ME! SOMEHOW, SOMEWAY, I’LL ESCAPE! IF I EVER GET OUT OF HERE—IF I EVER GET OUT OF THE ERASED REALM, I’M GOING TO FIND YOU, FIRRIK, AND I’M GOING TO FUCKING BUTCHER YOU!

With that final internal screech, Uma Miyon’s body vanished into dust.