Peter and the gang arrive past the great veil. It was monstrously dark.

The guild left their ship behind at a shore the elvfyn calls it Riftalenthriel. Their bags, lights, and weapons they carry into the unknown. Every man’s useful trinket stored in a chest at their bedding were taken for safe measure. Riftalenthriel, in common tongue, means a dungeon of talents within rifts.

It was a trial of a life time Peter have seek taking on this mission, this quest made abruptly to help poor little Manni to honor the code of heroes. Though have they found themselves in more troubles. The trail reek of puddles mimicking of clear night skies. Clearly no firmament was within the nothingness ‘cept the road they’ve happen to found, scaring shadow lizards which closely resembles skinks scurrying along the shadowy mist because of the lights swung around.

Strange disruption occur in the haze distorting the path. And so they walk up the curb of an out-fading land finding a high door in the middle of nowhere; a vacant lot big as a battle field of flat grounds fill with natural grasses; and a lamp post nicely melded, aesthetically pleasing unto a red telephone booth. It was so strange for the lads to see objects out of place. Sure, the red booths are commonly found on the hidden isle. Only two. Sad that these pieces of equipment by no means they know of its usage.

The pay phone has company. An average wooden table was parallel in position. Three archaic books laid on top of the table with a few miscellaneous items. Old Antikythera Mechanisms could be found around in peculiar places. Signs of recent activities the table provide by some sort of food substance. Likely are crumbs of a recent fresh baked bread giving an impression of someone had left in a hurry. Whoever was the guardsman strayed from his job which the guild believe it may have been an animal attack. The table’s legs were nibble by feral beasts were the only clues. The strangest of all was a damaged Z1 computer leaning upon a white rock from behind. It is an alien machinery to the guilders when inspect. But these oddities wasn’t what spook the group.

Of all the things in the world to be afraid of, you would expect statues to be the least to be fear. The Gray Fox guild couldn’t describe what the creatures could be, standing greatly were these ornaments at the side of the high door. In each others’ eyes the ornate statues were different. The last of the four senses will also tell a lie to another, jumbling the confusion with all members who participated in the expedition.

An argument did heat up believing fear is what triggers the statues’ ability though some says that it is their happiness it took form of. One would hear critters chattering perhaps. Another would hear the voices of the dead. One would smell fresh leather. Another would smell the rotting corpses in the church of Mae, and so.

“There is door. What should we do? Proceed as usual?” Zena questioned Peter.

“No, the road we walked isn’t the foyer. I’m lost just as you are. Those bones gives a weird vibe.”

“Bones? Now that you mention it, our psyche is being play.”

Zena was mesmerize. They were wise men of great stature in her eyes covered in cloths, five-leaf clovers and vines. Hardly anything that could resemble statues. For Peter, they were fallen bones of dragons. The most unexpected was Callecken. Large framed Victorian paintings of Zena and his mother hanged from the neck with a grotesque death-look, the pulled neck, saliva dripping, calling and beckoning with the hand to join repeating the phrase, “Take thy place.”

“Ooh man, it’s cold here. It feels like there is no life. The shadows are driving me craze, Pete.” Callecken hold his arms shivering and bump into Manni when backing up. The pictures did it’s work.

“Lets wait here for these Twelve Lords of The Depths as the kid suggest. Scan the perimeter and set up camp, gang.” Peter didn’t really want to meet the nods. It sounded sketchy even though Manni implores it was alright.

Before long, an offset of noises tune the unbalance atmosphere that made the guild searching where the sound is possibly coming from. Manni look up and there was a white hole took place sucking in the energy within the firmament, shaping, collecting, blooming out radiance that did not quite look liked natural warm light, but fractal lights without the bling for descent. The ghastly portal broke into pieces and shatter into a sight-full of droplets of glowing orbs and fireflies of the night.

You guess it. The king of satire arrives with no incredible pose. A few distance from the inner door. His name appears. Nuj, Lord of Hobos. The atmosphere slightly glitch from the abnormality.

First person.

I fell to the ground giving such a bad reaction of my own arrival as if I was not what they expect me to be. Eccentric but deadly is me of the unthinkable thoughts that landed me a low score of bad reputation. The raise of the postures and a little girl came forth being a nosey cadet listening of what I spoke while fanning away the misty dirt from me hobo’s lovest jacket and pant coughing, surely comparing space traveling portals to mad fungus. It was a really bad analogy.

The girl came up to me. Such awful writing by an anime weebo that I would probably concur it is for the best which she is in my presence staring directly into my eyes reading my signature aura. The elian was a serious little lady bold enough telling me not to move. “I believe it is elia-”

“Don’t move.” she interrupts me again. The stare was immense. Her bubble check bloated and inflated processing the character of an incredulous hobo maker. My aura was human. The elian was disappointed of the credentials I’ve brought into this realm. A bum. Your words, not mine.

The old saying goes, desperate actions will lead you astray. Just remember were to walk. Manni continue to scan and blurt without warning of what she was thinking. “Unbelievable. The old scriptures of the north says God was an elvessal. Is this blasphemy, grandpa? I don’t even know the meaning of the word. O grandpa, is this a curse for me to not know the truth? The demons must be laughing. Neshinarrou, I failed to save my sister. This hobo is just . . . is just an ordinary human. He even dig his nose.” The elian turn around looking very dissatisfied.

“What are you muttering about?” said this hobo here.

“Unbelievable.”

The three sprites were timid, coming and going around the bod hiding in the ears, the mouth, and yea, the nose, misbehaving like naughty little children before Christmas. Of course, it would’ve been gross digging the cavern of boogers in front of etiquette ladies. It was a good sign was I not nasty. To not consume any salty residues on the fingers.

Boing. The sound effect from flicking the booger.

Morally was a poor man like me pulling the sprites right back into their cradles after flicking the booger onto the grass. I was glad she wasn’t a rich lady or was she near me after being so disappointed.

Though I can’t prove my innocents. So shall I tell it to the readers. The sprites cannot be seen with the naked eyes unless they want to be seen in the spectrum of lights. Each eyes has there own tuned vibration. Nothing that is new in fantasy. Who are they to believe me. I guess I would take the blame and shame game for not plucking my own lucky petal.

“N-nothing important. Ahem. I M-Manni, have summoned you from your great slumber to help me on my quest to save my sister from the hands of the black magician. The Bowel Cutter Cult cursed and enslaved my sister in Ereshipath until the day she pledge her hand in marriage by her own will. I sincerely ask that of you in support on my journey. If human is what you take appearance of, will I judge no more.”

Manni bow to show her humbleness. She was nervous that I would not accept her plead. The nervousness was sank into her figure. This gotta be a joke. Me, summoned in a self-indulgent cartoon show? Zena heard the girl. Interject Manni’s ongoing funny psalm telling the elvfyn to stand up but she refuses because she’ll be curse. A follow of other amusing excuses Zena never heard about from the elvfyn tribes causing the Samurainian to drop her jaw. “Huh?!”

“I mustn’t. I-it is disrespectful.”

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“God you say, Manni? Your summoned hint a regular Joe.” Peter is a skeptic. He enters the conversation. Jarvob and Coral doubt the situation that I was probably an isekai one-hundred percent. They add on the idea of ramen and finally . . .

“Shut-in?”

“Shut-in.” replied Coral after a bet. No humor nor disgust. Not even a straight face. Clues? That it is an everyday occurrence summoning people from another world. As Darrio, the King of Bandits puts it, they’re expendable. Technically, am I not a shut-in being foretold.

“I’m fully aware that the state of Beazori highly indulged in these kinds of practices. To summon or recreate humans and creatures from another galaxy. Enslaving most against their will is a popular sport in that country.”

“Peter, what are you insisting? To subjugate the man? Half of the things you rich lads gossip about are not in the common folk library you know.”

“Elementary my good dear, Zena. I would’ve not imagine the power of wish would pull a lucky victim not connecting to this line, other than entities from the realm’s laws. Unike Highland’s odd methods which can only grab creatures.” On the leader explain until . . . “In the state of Beazori, though they don't acknowledge prayer methods for summoning but insist offering objects of interest under the Teibat sign. Dumbodale and Joyous Spring are are fond of the Minerval sign, where isekai men choose their fate to come over. You should've pay attention in the Academy of Astro Science. It will make you smarter.”

“Can it buster.” Zena quickly reply when Peter called her dear.

The words, “connecting” and “line” got me curious what the red booth is all about. Did it made me wonder and turn my direction giving the telephone box its divided attention. Which is verily suspicious on it’s own doing in the An. It has no apparent reason to be in the bubble void even as in the days of yore when I conjured the area during planning zone on paper. Manni saw me, looking mad in accordance to her own view. I had a feeling she assume it was the boys or the booth when my eyes directed back to the teachers noticing her glancing my way. I wasn’t mad. Just thinking. A bit trouble and concern.

“How is going to school any fun? I never knew my country is into these things. Summoning me would be a nightmare for most girls.” said Callecken.

Yasami slap the head of the illiterate loud mouth shouting super hero because she couldn’t help doing so who blurbs too much unsupported speeches. Mace reprove the dumbo Callecken of Dumbodale and of the summoning magic signs when brought up: Teibat and Kinfelk. The two of the most popular passages. The topic about the Minerval sign was discarded for various reasons.

“Precisely.” Peter responded. “The disobedient ones, those of the Tiebat sign wears the velvet ring. They are known as Inslayer isekais bearing the mark of unjust sentence or someone's property, and hence, the ring finger came to be. Those without the rings are known as Signot isekais. Pacts they formed through the sign of a dawn arc upon the head or behind the neck. Both are special made weapons. Once a tool is out used itself, it is discarded and a new bearer is ensnare and made into a tool. Some desire to have a personal army, a special pet or a friend to trust. However, it is no more than a way to boast your status and strength when the make-up is remove. My country where I’m from is not into slavery. They do not oppose it either. Therefore, it is easier for me and Mace to give an honest opinion. But I do find it interesting that you bear no, how should I put it. Ah, gift.”

“Please don’t info dump.” Peter didn’t understand what I meant after ending his self-lecture.

“A possible solution. The Askal Temple which could’ve severed unclean methods.”

Observing Mace, I kinda had the feeling the boy was stuck on words to demonstrate his smartness. He was showing his weakness the more he explained by keeping up the facade. To the elian, it was in the likeness of a mathematician speaking to a child of convoluted theories. Big technical phrases.

Hey, I am a good man, a better shy guy, so I keep my silent as they teach. Focusing on planning ahead is more rewarding now that I’m living in my own work. Why not take this chance to hide my real identity. Twist it ‘round in a well way. The party in my presence looked really young. Mayhaps around fourteen to twenty-two years old. You would assume the younglings would honor their elders. Us men from another world are treated lesser than trash. Slaves. Are we not impress? It wasn’t long when Peter brought up the topic about the dark realm.

“Escape the noir world? You mean the foyer?” I asked.

“Yes, do you know of it? Where is it? It has been countless roads of blackness. My guild is becoming weary from our venture. Will not a summoned of an elvfyn share your wisdom that we may complete this quest? Oh, forgive my rudeness for not introducing myself. Where are my manners. The name is Peter. Peter Altherri from the Queendom of the west. And these are me guilders.” He bow with a flat hand on the chest.

“Salutation.” The gang introduces themselves without bowing of any kind or attempted handshakes. I take back what I said. We isekai men aren’t all treated as trash.

“The names Nu . . . Seneth. Just Seneth. A road of darkness you said? I don’t highly doubt the iron rod was missed.”

“What are you suggesting?” Peter is confused that I don’t speak fully of my riddles. Someone whose brain works differently from the perception of normies.

“This is the foyer. Your eyes are deceiving you within the bubble void.” So I gave them a remedy that I made up right this moment to rub their eye lids with comforting warmth while vibrating their pineal gland. It was the best guile to see the unknown for brave heroes. Theoretically, it wouldn’t been possible. I’m astonish it flourish by my own voice. Manni took the command very seriously.

The plane reveals itself. A warm foyer with strange stagnant torches of Saint Elmo’s Flame, extending in and out of the realm. This mystery flame was called Igdrim known in fantasy world. The guild members heard of the fire and was it their first time witnessing a miracle. It burns invisibly. Only some detection of the flames’ flickers lock the element’s position. The dying heat it exhaust freezes water into clusters until scattering from the flame’s vicinity. It’s characteristic motion does not mimic ordinary fire, moving in a circular rotation over one another creating an oxygen tank spurting out excess warmth throughout the bubble void.

Indeed, it was freezing near the shrouded outer gates of space. Mighty crystals of ices hanged in the darkness beyond the bubble void. Some are still, some floated while others drifted beyond to places unmentioned. Pillars of great stood randomly, blend in the hidden environment with no ends where it will hit from outside the bubble void. And from below them and onto the grass land, countless stars of galaxies shined and a variety of luminscent orbs scatter like fireflies of the night coming going in and out of visibility unlike my first descent. A congenial scenery of order within the bubble void. But it was not the hall of souls. For this piece of island was commonly known as The Foyer.

Now, Osiris was among them. Above, hidden, floating and traveling around the perimeter. The ever-dragon that guards the portal with every inch of it’s extremely long body; the bailiff that judges the worthy. The volatile foyer could break the feeble mind. Where the guild stood from the grasses was the safest area.

“Consider your guild lucky.” have I said twerking my ego though I clearly don’t know what I’m doing. There is a cut-out of my memory.

The Gray Fox guild is a strong evidence letting me to lead the charge but I literally have to improvise. The red booth bothers my inner self. So making it my first case to solve is a good first impression. I head there wondering of nonsensical issues. Manni follows up from behind when the guild was busy touring the area. Some are in broken awe staring away at surrealism without words to convey the beauties more than with descriptions.

Inside the red telephone booth, there is a direct line to the Lords of Nod. Instructions were taped unto the phone encase of an emergency. What? Prank is it?

Ring, ring, ring. The ring spook me. Manni and Peter who witness me to jump a bit uncanny from the unsuspected suspense. There was a pause for me to catch my breath, it ring once more.

Ding! And follow the ring tone. Du-Da-Dah-Da-Du-Da-Du-Duh. Holy cows! One missed call within the bloody booth. I can’t possibly look like a scare little chicken in front of the boys. There is a limit to my horror intake so I must endure. The phone is pick up but no response on the other line. A sweaty on me end that a terrible misfortune could be my fate. And so dialing extension 111 the nods left a note on the pay phone was the perfect distraction.

How does one keep their cool in front of people? For us hobo, leaning back onto the glass and wooden wall, crossing leg to past the time for an answer is the method. The call waiting is eerie. A creepiness seep through the phone line of this estrange atmosphere inside the booth presented. Oh boy, horror in beauty, eh? The cold shoulders abrupt and gave me chills. Manni continue to stare.

“Um, God.” Manni did not understand what I was doing. The guilders pile up their additional habiliments. The area gotten colder.

“Called me Seneth, Manni. I don’t take another’s name.”

“???”

A strange creature came rushing from the outer darkness. A devastated attack wounding a guild member.

"Inner Forest" by Rarefolk