A week passed by quickly with most of Sam’s time being spent within the subconscious expanse. In a dream, he could be anything he wanted, a sailor, an astronaut, a rich CEO, or a hero fighting against a demon king, whenever he wanted. When he wanted to take a break, he didn’t have to walk anywhere or do any traveling; he’d be instantly transported to his luxurious room meant for relaxation. When he got dirty and wanted to be clean, he didn’t have to shower or change. A simple spin would clear all the dust and grime off of him. When he was hungry, the foods he was craving would appear in front of him, and he didn’t have to worry about overindulging on sweets or fats or alcohols or carcinogens.

However, the trip back to the human city was over, and it was time for Sam’s dreams to end. The luxurious meal he was eating vanished as his surroundings swirled with a white mist, and Sam found himself sitting in a chair inside a whale’s mouth with a twin-headed snake wrapped around his face, an eagle perched on his head, a sloth hugging his waist, and a koala weighing down his leg. Then, the head of a golden tapeworm squirmed out of his right nostril.

“We’ve arrived,” Big Fish’s voice said inside Sam’s head. The door opened, and the ground shifted, scooting Sam outside of the building within the whale’s mouth. He couldn’t see anything thanks to the snake blocking his vision, but he still observed the Venusians with his All-Seeing Gaze as he was escorted along the whale’s tongue and out of its mouth. There were very few Venusians on the streets of the whale’s tongue, the only Venusians present were communicating the information they had discovered to the graylings who had been assigned the task of learning everything.

As Sam was being expelled from the whale’s mouth, he heard a grayling say, “Excuse me,” and promptly imploded its own head. Birdbrained let out a squawk and flapped its wings a few times while shifting its weight from side to side as the knowledge of the big six human companies, that the Venusians had spent the week gathering, entered the eagle’s brain all at once. Then, Sam landed outside of the whale’s mouth, his surroundings shrinking as his body expanded to its original size. The green whale was the size of a small toy hidden within a mass of curly fur.

“Mangalitsa,” the wooly pig underneath Sam said in greeting when it noticed Sam landing on its back.

“Hello, Manga,” Sam said, communicating with the pig through his throat chakra. “It’s been a while.” As the familiar who had to stay outside to transport the whale, it was the only one Sam hadn’t seen whilst inside the whale’s mouth. “Did anything happen while we were gone? More specifically, you didn’t cause any disasters while running, right?”

The wooly pig let out its four-syllable-long cry once again, its tone clearly upset with Sam for insinuating it didn’t know how to hide its traces. It had spent the whole week running underground where it wouldn’t be detected by any surface dweller, and it was only now seeing sunshine for the first time in days.

Sam noticed the pig didn’t answer his question, so he assumed one or two earthquakes had been triggered by the pig as it moved through the earth. He patted the pig’s back to convey he understood what it was saying before using his All-Seeing Gaze. The range of his technique had expanded since the last time he had been to the city, and he was taken aback when he realized how small the place truly was. When he was younger, it seemed like the city was the whole world, but now, it was just a place where Sam could easily come and go. Suddenly, the value of human credits didn’t seem worth that much since it only had meaning in such a tiny region.

“Let’s go,” Sam said with his throat chakra and patted the wooly pig’s back. It trotted forward, and as Sam recalled the reason why they came to the capital in the first place—to get bacon for Sam to eat for Nwaps to eat inside of Sam—he couldn’t help but find it a little ironic he was riding still-alive bacon to get there. “To the butcher.”

Although Sam could order the graylings within the capital to get him all the bacon he needed, wouldn’t that be robbing him of his life experiences? If he went to the butcher, what if he chanced on a damsel in distress or someone key to activating a plotline within a story? Although the odds were extremely low, they were still better than if he chose not to go at all, sending graylings in his stead. Then again, if he didn’t go to the butcher and met someone else in that time whilst his graylings were running his errands…. Who was he kidding? If he sent the graylings to run his errands, he’d spend his time in the subconscious expanse interacting with people who weren’t even real. Were they real? What did it even mean for someone to be real?

“That’s simple,” Vercedei said, having no qualms about reading Sam’s mind. “If someone has the spark of creation, then they’re real.”

“Spark of creation?” Sam asked.

“Ideas are always floating around regardless of whether or not someone thinks them up,” Vercedei said. “If someone can cause the idea to manifest, then they have the spark of creation. Ideas by themselves need the spark to become action. Those people in the subconscious expanse, they’re mere ideas, unable to make anything of themselves without the help of someone with a spark.”

“That simple, huh?” Sam asked.

“More or less,” Vercedei said. “Werchbite’s illusions are so realistic because Werchbite can mimic the spark of creation perfectly.”

“And how can I tell if someone has the spark?” Sam asked.

“Observation,” Vercedei said. “If all they can do is regurgitate words without understanding the meaning behind them, then they’re sparkless. Haven’t you noticed when you interacted with people in your dreams? They speak, and their words make sense, but they can’t come up with any topics of their own unless you prompt them.”

“I see,” Sam said and focused on his All-Seeing Gaze. Despite the wooly pig taking up so much space, Werchbite had created an illusion to mask it. To outsiders, they’d simply see Sam driving a car. As such, the wooly pig was obeying the rules of traffic on its way to the butcher. There weren’t many people moving out and about, but Sam couldn’t tell if it was normal or not considering he hadn’t been to the city in a while, and he had never scanned the whole thing at once with his All-Seeing Gaze at once.

“Why are we going to the butcher?” Nwaps asked.

“Didn’t you want bacon?” Sam asked.

“Yes, but can you even cook?” Nwaps asked. “Why would I want an amateur’s attempt at bacon when there’re so many fine-dining establishments waiting for you to give them money to feed me delicious food?”

Sam wasn’t sure if fine-dining establishments offered bacon on their menu, but if the tapeworm insisted on going to those places instead of the butcher, what could Sam do but comply. He patted Manga’s back and communicated with it through his mind. “Take us somewhere Nwaps approves of.”

The wooly pig let out a four-syllable-long cry, evidently not too happy with its new set of instructions. How was it supposed to know where Nwaps wanted to go?

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“Communication?” Sam asked. “Ask the tapeworm.”

“And why would I know fine-dining establishments?” Nwaps asked in return. “You’re our host. Do host things and make sure we’re happy. Why should I do work for my own food when I’m a guest here?”

If Sam weren’t grounding his feelings, he’d grab the tapeworm with some tweezers the next time it popped out of his nose and yank it out before stomping on it, but since he was grounding his feelings, he was able to think things through logically. He was lucky the tapeworm was asking—even if it was a impolite and spoiled—because it could always dig into his brain and control his actions to get what it wanted anyway. At least, this way, Sam had a say in the choice of restaurant; however, how would Sam know any fancy places?

Sam tapped near his chest, poking something soft underneath his shirt. A black ferret’s head poked out of his shirt collar and stared up at his chin. “Can I get my tablet?” Sam asked the ferret.

Raindu held out its paw and spread three of its toes.

“Alright,” Sam said. “I’ll triple the number of dishes we order, so you can have some too.”

The ferret reached into its fur and took out a stone tablet, which it dropped onto Sam’s lap—not before the corner of the tablet hit Joe the sloth’s head on the way down. The sloth let out a cry as the ferret hid back inside Sam’s shirt, and Sam couldn’t help but sigh through his nose as a red mist leaked out of the sloth’s body, signaling the sloth’s anger and desire to share its indignance with its surroundings. Not far from Sam, there were two people playing a boardgame with one another in a restaurant’s outdoor space. They must’ve already hated each other because it didn’t take long for them to begin pummeling one another after the sloth’s red haze tinged their auras. Sam pretended as if he hadn’t seen a thing and connected with his tablet through his Sahasrara.

As someone who worked as basically the secretary for the CEO of Monarch, Wendy was bound to know a few high-end places, so Sam sent her a message asking for recommendations for places to eat that included bacon. He received a reply surprisingly quickly, and with his All-Seeing Gaze, he located the restaurant Wendy had recommended almost immediately. It was at the top of one of the tallest buildings in the capital, and it was owned by Weston, one of the six big companies. As expected, Sam noticed graylings within the building, and some of them were even working in the restaurant; he had rented Weston a hundred graylings, and it seemed like the company found them quite useful.

Sam patted the wooly pig underneath him, giving it directions through his mind. Despite being able to see the whole city with his All-Seeing Gaze, there were parts of it blockaded off from his psychic vision. Some buildings and some rooms inside of buildings couldn’t be seen; Sam assumed crystals were employed to interfere with people’s All-Seeing Gazes; after all, anyone could learn it if they unlocked their Ajna and Sahasrara. As the wooly pig walked down the road, the sloth’s red-tinged haze continued to spread, causing minor scuffles and impolite interactions to occur, but they conveniently ignored Sam and his familiars as they approached the fancy building.

Sam wasn’t quite sure how his familiars were going to bring him into the restaurant at the top floor considering the wooly pig couldn’t shrink, and it was massive, way bigger than the building’s doors could accommodate. He got his answer soon enough when the wooly pig leaned to the side, causing Sam to roll off the creature with a metallic thump caused by Dirt the koala hitting the sidewalk. Big Fish enlarged, scooped up Manga in its mouth, and shrank to a reasonable size for Sam to sit on. Then, the green whale slowly floated forward, bringing Sam inside the building.

“Hello,” the host at the desk said. “How may I help you today? Are you here for business?”

“No,” Vercedei said. “I heard there was good bacon here.”

“Yes, we do have good bacon,” the host said, a slight smile appearing on his face as he scanned the illusion Werchbite had created for Sam from head to toe. “Do you have a reservation with us, sir?”

Reservation? High-end restaurants probably needed those, huh? He hadn’t made one.

“Don’t worry, Sam,” Nwaps said to Sam through his mind. “I got this. I’ll make up for your mistake.”

“Yes,” Vercedei said to the host. “I have one.”

The host violently twitched, and Sam saw a golden aura blossom inside the man’s head with his All-Seeing Gaze. “Yes,” the host said and pressed a few buttons on the small tablet in front of himself. “You do have a reservation. Go right ahead.”

Big Fish swam forward in the air, carrying Sam past the man who was smiling and waving at him as if Sam were the most important person in Oterra. As Sam entered an elevator, the golden color in the man’s head receded, and he looked around with a confused expression as the elevator’s door closed. “How many people have you infected inside this building?” Sam asked the tapeworm with his mind.

“All of them,” Nwaps said. “They’re part of Weston, one of the big six companies; it’d be a huge failing on my part if I hadn’t infected everyone here.” The tapeworm extended out of Sam’s nostril and tapped against his cheek a few times. “While you were slacking off in the subconscious expanse, I was busy at work. Aren’t you glad to have such reliable familiars?”

It had only been a week, but all the people in a single building were infected by Nwaps. In that case, how many people in the city were under Nwaps’ influence? If the wealthy came to this high-end restaurant to eat, then they were most likely infected as well, and if they went to parties where all their peers were attending? Sam had only been through a few people’s dreams, but it seemed like that was enough to cause a widespread infection. “No one’s noticed your existence?”

“With no symptoms, why would anyone even bother checking?” Nwaps asked. “In fact, when I infect someone, I boost their immune system, so they’re less likely to get sick or need a reason to visit a doctor. The people in the capital are healthier than ever with me present.”

“Other than the fact their brains can be rewired at any moment,” Sam said as the elevator reached its destination.

“Some people would pay good money to have their brains rewired,” Nwaps said. “As I said, they’re healthier than ever now.”

The elevator opened, and Sam wasn’t sure how to feel as golden lights blossomed in the heads of the people working within the restaurant. One man approached and nodded while smiling at Sam. “Hello, Mr. Park,” the man said, addressing Sam. “Our private room is right this way. Please, follow me.”

Sam scanned the guests in the restaurant with his All-Seeing Gaze as the whale floated behind the man. There were golden lights hidden within their abdomens, and if anyone were to view them with an All-Seeing Gaze, they would’ve assumed the individuals were working on unlocking their sacral chakras; however, Sam knew that was the sign of Nwaps’ infection. The guests turned to look at Sam as the illusion Werchbite had created walked past them. Luckily, Joe’s temper tantrum from having a tablet dropped on its head had ended; otherwise, a bloodbath might’ve occurred. Instead, the guests remained calm and didn’t question Sam’s existence while their meals became much more relaxing and enjoyable than usual.

The private room was fancy, not that Sam could enjoy the sight with his eyes blocked by Werchbite. There were crystals embedded in the walls that prevented him from seeing in and out of the room with his psychic vision, but once he was inside, he could see the interior just fine. Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, there were already people inside—the real Mr. Park and two other individuals, both of whom Sam recognized: Mister Hoffman from SAT Group and Big Chief from Weston. Not only that, but there were six invisible people in the room as well; Sam assumed they were the three CEOs’ bodyguards.

“Here we are, Mr. Park,” the man who guided Sam to the room said. “Enjoy your stay with us.”

“But I’m Mr. Park,” Mr. Park said, a baffled expression on his face. The waiter acted as if he hadn’t heard the man and left the room while closing the door behind him, leaving Sam to face the three CEOs and their bodyguards alone. Mr. Park frowned. “Who are you, and why are you impersonating me?”

“Am I impersonating you, or are you impersonating me?” Vercedei asked. “What’s going on here? Mister Hoffman, Big Chief, do the two of you really think that imposter is me?”

“Well…,” Mister Hoffman said and turned to look at Mr. Park. “I’m not so sure anymore.”

Sam exhaled through his nose. Couldn’t his familiars have disguised him as someone who wasn’t already present within the restaurant? And of all the people to impersonate, why did they impersonate one of the CEOs of the six big companies? Sam had a sneaking suspicion his familiars’ actions weren’t coincidences; rather, they were taking deliberate steps towards destroying Oterra as Vercedei had proclaimed it would when convincing the Venusians to join them.

“Someone,” Big Chief, leader of Weston, said and snapped his fingers twice. “Clear up this misunderstanding. I am not amused.”