It was dark when he woke. Or maybe he’d just gone blind.

The crackling of a fire prickled his eardrums, the smell of smoke and ash drifting up his nostrils. He coughed.

It hurt. His head pounded as though the spirit of Keith Moon had taken up residence and shotgunned a brick of cocaine. Groggy, he tried to sit up. His clothes were tattered and filthy, bruises and welts poking angrily out his skin. The bed of sticks and moss he lay atop jabbed into him. How long had he been out for? It was night, so at least a few hours.

Then he looked up, and realised it wasn’t night at all.

He simply sat in the shadow of the beanstalk, one of its branches sheltering the campsite. This was improvised, he noted as he glanced across the fire. Stones to encircle the pit, and another sleeping station set opposite his.

His jaw dropped at the creature sitting there. Poking the fire with a stick, a humanoid with grey skin and a crown of horns atop his head noted Jack’s movement with a grunt.

“What a way to treat a saviour, eh?” said Satan.

Alarms blaring down his nerves, Jack shot to his feet, ignoring the spike of pain driving through him. He drew Razor—who had reattached herself to his waist—and stood ready, mouth set to a grim line as he stared.

“Finally!” She sounded giddy, the lust bleeding from her voice. “Slake my thirst with the head of the prince of darkness! Find out what his insides look like and—

His stomach tried to evacuate at the image. You’re just a bloody precaution, I’m not here to murder everything!

“Why not?”

Because we’re not playing D, D&D!

The demon cocked his head, brow furrowed as he surveyed Jack’s unmoving form.

“Sword giving you a hard time, perchance?” he said.

Jack’s jaw went slack. “Excuse me?”

“Your sword,” he said, idly poking the flames. “Do you think that I, the first fallen, would be unable to detect sentience in an object?”

“Uh…”

“What baffles me,” he continued, “is how she can be both there and in her own body.”

Shaking the cobwebs from his brain, Jack said, “what are you actually talking about? And why help me? Why would the king of bloody evil wanna nurse me back to health?”

“I have a body?”

Satan sighed. “There it is. Everybody always assumes that, because some tales told to keep children in line said so, I must be evil. The greatest evil I committed was desiring free will.”

“I’d still like to know about this body.”

“That doesn’t tell me why you’re helping me, though,” said Jack. “You coulda just left me there and gotten on with your business. I’m the reason you got run out of town, right?”

“Hello? The body?”

He waved it off. “I was merely passing the time attempting to scam them out of their ill-gotten gains. I’m over it.”

“Ill-gotten gains?” said Jack, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Would you stop ignoring me?!”

“It matters not,” said Satan. “I’m more interested in how you seemed to know so much about me.”

Looking away, he tugged at his collar. “Like I said, clairvoyant.”

Satan smirked, meeting Jack’s eyes for the first time. It sent shivers down his spine. “I think not,” he said. “To know those things, to possess a blade with sentience that shouldn’t exist, tell me…”

His mind sprinted at top speed, stumbling and clawing to find a way to explain himself.

Satan said, “did my father send you?”

Jack’s eyes shot agape, lip curling. “Of course not! I’m from the future, you fucking moron!” Clamping his mouth shut, a surge rushed through him and emptied everything.

“Great job keeping your secret—rest in peace, the timeline.”

Shut up!

“Ask about my body.”

Rubbing his chin, Satan gazed into the flames. “Interesting… of course, it makes sense. You must have met me, then? Do I prosper?”

“Spoilers,” said Jack, clearing his throat.

Lucifer frowned. “What is a ‘spoiler’?”

“It’s, uh… when you’re watching a film or—right, don’t have those yet. Never mind. Important thing is, if I tell you what happens, you might do it differently. And I don’t know what happens if I change something.”

“Understandable. Still, how do you know you haven’t changed anything already?”

He started—now he thought about it, the devil had given no indication he knew him when they’d met previously. What’s more, what was with the size discrepancy?

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“All unimportant questions.”

Chuckling, Jack said, “when we meet in the future, this never happened, alright?”

“Of course not. Who are you, again?”

Jack licked his teeth. “Exactly.”

“Ask him about the body or I’ll fry you!”

“The sword wants to know about her body.” He rolled his eyes.

“Spoilers,” said Satan, a glint in his eye.

“That’s not how that works!”

***

They exited into a vast metallic thoroughfare, full of people and stalls and electronic doors. Glossy surfaces reflected harsh white light in every direction, illuminating the press of humanity milling around. Their feet scraping on the metal floors raised a cacophony. It smelled of frying foods and sweat, though a clinical note undercut this. A low electric hum accompanied the general hubbub.

Lydia gawked. This could be any high street she’d ever been on, if not for the enclosure and unfamiliar sights and scents. All around, stores and stalls advertised their wares, food and technology she’d never even heard of before. Some were bars, with patrons slumped over their glasses. Others were diners, patrons tearing into unknown future delicacies.

Hold on, was that a card shop?

Beside her, the others engaged in an animated discussion, but she didn’t listen. They were in the future. Moreover, they stood on a space station. The great unknown. An expanse undiscovered and unexplored—at least in their time—that set her blood alight.

Recently, her mind had been on other things, and before that her suffocating mother had policed her every move, so she hadn’t been able to indulge. Now, though, it returned to her—the joy of exploration, of discovering the great secrets of the world.

Something jabbed the inside of her stomach, but she ignored it. This was time travel. It didn’t matter how long they took, as long as they landed in the right place. Which, given Dr. Wen, was unlikely, but she figured she shouldn’t worry so much. He’d understand. He was probably doing the same in the past.

Besides, she could find what they needed. An idea began forming in her head.

“Alright then,” said Elizabeth, “so we’re splitting up?”

Heaving a sigh, Hannah rubbed her forehead. “Seems that way.”

“Don’t worry,” said Lydia, already hurrying off. “I have a plan!”

“Wait!” they called, but she was already weaving through the crowd.

Perhaps she should have listened, but it seemed a simple enough situation. Find a runesmith to fix the HARDON. They didn’t need to over-complicate things, though she did realise she had no idea where they were supposed to meet afterwards. Or when.

Oh, well. She was sure they’d find her.

For now, she merely had to seek her answers, to both her questions and the group’s. How would they get back to the past and save Jack? Would they be able to return to their own time?

And most importantly, how would she fare against Future Magic Kings from the future?

Yes, playing cards was definitely the correct decision.

***

After a short respite, Jack set himself to climbing the beanstalk. Looking up at it, he’d already felt as if he was falling, flailing and grasping at the empty air as his stomach churned. That was almost enough to turn him away.

Almost.

If the suspiciousness of the village wasn’t enough, one of the residents had also brained him with a bucket and sent him flying down a hill. The most trustworthy person he’d met so far was the actual devil. Screw the past, and screw his treacherous mind—he’d burst right back in and spoil their Jack-free party.

“But the mystique,” said Razor. “Think of it: you’re in a position to discover things most people can only read about, and truly experience them in a way blocked to all others.”

His eye twitched. Like I give a toss! I don’t care about exploring a place where they still shit in a bucket and chuck it in the garden!

“But if you—”

Shut up, all you care about is finding more about that body thing, but I’m not sold! We’re finding a way home. You know what I want more than anything right now?

“The blood of your enemies?”

A nice, cold, electrically-refrigerated drink.

“Of the blood of your enemies?”

Growling, he gripped a pair of vines, hauling himself up on the first step to the heavens. The climb was arduous, an ache setting into his muscles early and refusing to leave. It took him days, coming to points his head bobbed and limbs went slack—at these times, he found thick branches to camp on. Cold winds threatened to chill his bones and throw him to his death, but he managed to hang on.

Whilst climbing, however, was another story. Many times he slipped and lost his grip, plummeting a few feet before catching himself again, heart in his mouth. Days and nights merged together, and his beard grew wild and wiry. He was no longer Jack. He had become some tragic victim of fate, doomed to endlessly climb but never see his goal, like if David had faced Goliath with nothing but spitballs and a particularly flimsy toothpick.

As he approached the clouds, rains became more frequent, soaking him through and sending him shuddering. The air grew thinner, making his head light and stops more frequent. He wondered if he should turn back. Abandon his hopeless quest and live out his life as a farmer in Ye Olde Shithole.

But he’d already come so far, and besides, it was a long way down. He could fall.

Which was certainly the quickest way down.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Like a freight train, all the melancholy he’d been avoiding came flooding back, and he stopped climbing. Why shouldn’t he throw himself off the side? It’d solve all his problems.

“Yes, aside from the tiny little roadblock of you being dead.”

Exactly. Chapter forty-five.

“You can’t just reference earlier chapter titles and expect it to qualify as an argument!”

I’m the protagonist, I can do what I want.

“Look, you know there are people who will miss you, and you know that you invented most of these problems to torture yourself, so—”

Yeah, I know. He heaved a hand up, catching a fleshy ridge and digging in his fingers. But knowing and feeling aren’t the same thing.

“Then how do you feel about this?”

About what? The smell of grass and sweet fruit filled his nostrils. A gasp escaped him as he looked up to where his hand caught another ridge, but this was flatter than the last. Above him stood no more beanstalk. Only the empty sky stretched out, unladen by the clouds he’d already surpassed.

He’d finally reached the top.

“I suppose your quest wasn’t so hopeless after all.”

Dragging himself up, he took in the sight of the platform. It was as big as the village, maybe bigger, and covered in all kinds of freely-growing grass and plants. The sun, massive and stalwart, blazed overhead, illuminating the rustling and bustling of woodland creatures within the thick flora. A rabbit, a squirrel, and he thought he even saw a fox.

That could get messy quickly.

There was even an orchard, juicy red apples hanging from impossible tall trees. Still, the lowest-hanging were close enough for one swipe of Razor to put them in his hands. All he heard was the buzzing of insects and the chattering of birds. A profound sense of peace washed over him, eliciting a soft sigh as he closed his eyes and bit into the apple.

He immediately spat it back out. A slimy taste coated his tongue, making him retch and gag, his dangerously empty stomach heaving and lurching. Chucking the apple away, he waded through knee-high grass toward the centre, picking worm out his teeth.

And then he saw it.

Before him stood a massive stone castle, complete with ramparts and towers and a drawbridge, despite the lack of a moat. It was an eclectic mix of yellows and greens and oranges, the colours swirling and mixing like they’d been added by a toddler who didn’t understand what the lines were for.

I don’t believe it. It’s actually here.

“Indeed it is.” Razor sounded smug. “To think you wanted to give up right before you found what you’re looking for.”

That’s not what I’m talking about. It was too good to be true. Only in myths, legends, and stories did such a thing exist, but reality told him differently. His breath caught. Out here, at the top of a beanstalk in the distant past, he’d found the most coveted structure in all existence.

A castle in the sky.

“Oh lord, please no.”

Arms flailing in a giddy dance, he sprinted toward the castle. “I found Laputa!”