Tom wasn’t having second thoughts.

Okay so maybe he was having a few reservations as he followed Aleph down a dingy, derelict alleyway that seemed even more run-down than the usual Nameless District experience. Maybe he wasn’t entirely comfortable as Aleph pushed open a rickety wooden door that spilled out into a abandoned diner of sorts, with half a dozen wooden tables that were caked with dirt, grime and fungus, a few broken wooden chairs littered across the floor and an elongated stone table that was placed a little before the south wall. The char marks upon its surface gave credence to his theory, though Tom still couldn’t see why they had come here.

Aleph walked over to the stone counter and began to push. Tom’s instincts told him to help her out, but almost immediately in succession the heavy counter began to slide backwards.

‘Fantasy world. Right.’

A familiar glow cut through the darkness dominating the foul smelling diner, startling Tom. The only reason why he had been able to roughly make out the diner’s features was due to the light filtering in through the open door and his own Proprioception stats. Now though, as Tom walked over to Aleph’s side, his eyes flashed with recognition. Before him lay a crystal trapdoor, it’s luminescent sheen akin to the crystals Aleph had manifested earlier.

Sure enough, a flick of her wrist was all it took for the blockage to shatter into crystal dust.

Silence reigned in the diner as the two stared down a flight of stone steps that receded deeper into the earth.

“After you, my lady,” Tom offered, doing his best to sound as refined and sophisticated as he could; feigning the air of a distinguished gentleman.

Aleph chuckled, shaking her head lightly before she took the first step.

Inwardly sighing in relief, Tom followed.

He still wasn’t sure what to make of the woman, but she had promised him three things he desperately lacked— a place to sleep, access to resources and the most important of them all, knowledge.

Changing his name would work another one, maybe two times but Zakeran’s lot had gotten more than a glimpse at his visage. It was all he could do to boisterously exclaim his false name as a deflection and hope they would focus on his non-existent identity over lookouts or hired goons trying to identify him each time he stepped out for something.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

‘Maya still isn’t strong enough.’

Even briefly accessing Zenakris’ memories had given him access to incredibly useful knowledge, if only in snippets and fragments. It was the main reason he could make an accurate assessment of Aleph’s strength and understood how impressive her feats were. Although Zenakris’ combat experience wasn’t something he could acquire through his memories, not unless he directly copied the memory while in the Realm of Yul; he had learned much merely from recalling Zenakris’ gait, muscle-memory and the way he distributed his weight. Chief among those lessons was the importance of neutralising a threat before it got an opportunity to launch an attack, a philosophy that seemed to be ingrained into every step the young noble took. Perhaps that only served to highlight the danger this world posed; the sheer breadth of ways an enemy combatant could launch an attack was enough to overwhelm even the most elaborate of strategies.

In hindsight, he was rather glad that Zenakris’ group hadn’t spotted him in the forest but that was counterbalanced with his annoyance at possessing such an incredibly powerful skill like Maya yet finding himself effectively unable to utilise it; not unless he was willing to stake his life on the line.

An appetising aroma disrupted his train of thought as Aleph pushed open a stone door to reveal a well-lit chamber. Candelabras lined the edges of the rough-hewn stone wall, though in place of candles there were Aleph’s crystals affixed to circular metal holders. Two animal hide sofas were placed adjacent to each other at a ninety degree angle, a shoddily put together wooden coffee table dominating the centre of the seating area. The nicks and scratches running across the table spoke of extensive use and as Tom took a keener look, the sofas seemed well-worn, though not quite dilapidated.

A cot was placed at the far end of the chamber against the left corner which seemed fairly unremarkable. Tom’s attention was captured by a wooden display stand that held a commodity he hadn’t encountered since stepping into Artezia— Books.

Knowledge was incredibly precious when you possessed so little of it, but Tom suppressing his burgeoning excitement for now. It would be unreasonable for a denizen of this world to freak out over the sheer idea of books, after all.

That wasn’t all though. An old barrel that had been repurposed to hold practice wooden rapiers, practice dummies that had been hewn out of crystal, a table next to the cot that was littered with potions and tinctures of all shapes and sizes, open rectangular boxes fashioned out of crystal that were stocked with bandages, arrows, throwing knives, spare clothes and most importantly, dried rations.

Placed opposite the cot, on the other side of the room, was a large crystalline table whose surface was dominated by dozens of hand-drawn maps. Stacks of handwritten notes were sprawled upon the table, open books from the display case he’d seen earlier scattered on top of the notes that made for a chaotic mess. A few maps were even pinned to the wall, serving to highlight how serious Aleph was about… whatever she was trying to do.

There was another crystal door that sealed a rectangular opening.

The final thing of note he took in was the weights piled behind the sofa, a mat spread across the ground to facilitate training.

Tom had never been a fan of lifting weights back on Earth but… he supposed that would have to change if he wanted to survive.

“Aleph?” Tom muttered aloud.

“Yes?”

“Uh, how did you find this place, again?” Tom asked, honestly surprised by how well she had managed to do for herself when almost all the nameless district lived in a mediaeval era hut.

“I caught someone squatting down here a few months ago, when I was looking for a secluded place to operate from.”

“Um, did you own the place?”

“What? No. I did offer them money to leave though, but…” Aleph trailed off.

“But?” Tom pushed, raising his eyebrows.

“Well, they refused. So I had to beat them up until they took the money and agreed to keep their mouths shut.”

Tom let out a long, weary sigh.