The swirling vortex of colors ended as Guinevere and I were flung out into reality once again.

Wood splintered under me as I hit the ground, rolling to catch Guinevere. I staggered to my feet and looked around the alien environment…. this was my apartment.

“Holy shit dude!” a man on the coach across from the TV on the wall said, nearly falling over the back of it in his haste to scramble away from us.

Guinevere and I winced as blaring horns and sirens from all over the city hit our eardrums along with the sounds of gunfire and explosions on the TV. Guinevere put a fist through the TV and it stopped making noises. I threw up, my body starting to shake.

You’re going into mana withdrawal, Karnen said.

I fell to my knees and reached into my storage pouch and pulled out the Cymanthia Bush. I pulled out a mana potion, downed it, then chewed up and swallowed a single berry. The nausea ended; I couldn’t read the description of the plant anymore but I remembered it kept people who consumed it from using any mana abilities but it also kept them from losing any locking their mana in a twenty-four hour statis. I handed a potion and berry to Guinevere, who also looked like she was about to throw up, and she drank and ate both.

“What was that?” she asked.

“A cymanthia berry,” I said. “It should keep us from losing mana until we find a way back.”

“Who are you people?” the man asked, stumbling to his feet. “You some sort of star trek cult barging in here and speaking Klingon?”

“Klingon?” I asked him. “What the hell are you talking about.”

“What am I talking about? The fuck were you talking about in that weird language just there? Where are your clothes?”

“What are you two saying?” Guinevere asked.

“You can’t understand… right, I forgot I haven’t been speaking English this entire time,” I said. “He’s basically just freaking out and thinks we’re some insane cosplayers.”

“What’s a cosplayer?” she asked.

“It’s a… you know, this isn’t the time.” I said as the man started to look more panicky. “Hey, you, stop hyperventilating.”

“What?” he said gasping.

I pulled a sack of gold out from my storage pouch. “Hand me your wallet and we’ll be out of here; you can sell this to some pawn shop to make up for it.”

The gold spilled out and man’s eyes widened even further, which I hadn’t thought was possible.

“And your phone too,” I said, snapping my fingers.

He tossed over the wallet and phone.

“Password?” I asked.

“Eight, three, five, one,” he said licking his lips as he looked at the gold.

“Lets go Guinevere,” I said. “We need to go get some regular clothes to blend in.”

We stepped out of the ground floor apartment into the bright light of the afternoon. Checking the phone, I saw the time was around six-thirty. I remembered the location of a thrift store nearby and headed there. Guinevere and I got a lot of looks, it wasn’t everyday people saw a seven-foot tall, armored barbarian and woman clad in full plate armor. Some people took out their phones, but I ignored them, pulling up YouTube language lesson.

I started explaining the words being said to Guinevere. It might take a regular person years to learn a language, but we were Hero rank, our Mind attribute basically made it impossible to forget anything, and our Perception attribute let us process information faster than a supercomputer. By the time we’d walked to the Thrift Store, she could already say a few passable phrases in English. From there she was able to just pick up more words based on context, and it started snowballing.

I stooped down as I walked through the door, my helm put in my storage pouch.

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You need to watch how often you use that, Ares said. There isn’t any mana in your world. Items have charge in them but once it runs out, you could permanently ruin them.

What about Clarent? I asked looking down at the crystal hilt of my sword.

That’s…difficult to say, Ares said.

It has its own energy source so it could probably be activated for a few million years and be just fine, Karnen said. But your other items you should put in storage as soon as possible to keep them from losing their effects.

Guinevere and I walked through the rows of clothes. People moved away from us, the clang of our armor unsettling them. I grabbed a couple of plain extra-large t-shirts, some jeans and a hoodie and a pair of sneakers that looked like they would fit me. My bare feet reminded me of the loss of my boots but that was a small thing in comparison to the still burning hole in my soul from where Kalesa had ripped out her Dominion ability.

I was still going on fumes right now, but despite the fact that I was pretty sure I could take a hit from a nuke and walk out just fine, I didn’t feel safe. The world was too strange, too alien; I was a foreigner in my own world now. I needed to find some place where I could sleep and mentally adjust and settle myself.

We went into the changing rooms and put on the new outfits. I just dropped several hundred dollars in cash at the checkout as we walked out, our armor in my storage. We turned the corner, going around the back. A cop car pulled up, blocking our path, and the officer stepped out looking at me warily.

“I got a call about indecent exposure and carrying weapons, two people matching your descriptions…” his words trailed off as he looked at Guinevere.

“There a problem, officer?” I asked my voice a low growl.

“Back up!” he snapped at me.

“I haven’t moved,” I said my voice carrying a dangerous edge.

“I don’t like your tone,” the cop said.

“I don’t give a shit,” I said shrugging.

“That’s it, you’re under arrest,” the cop said moving forwards his hand resting on his pistol.

“Can we settle this peacefully?” Guinevere asked her English heavily accented.

The cop licked his lips. “I can think of several ways we could settle this….”

My hand clamped around his throat. The sound of thunder boomed as he blasted his pistol into my stomach again and again until the magazine went dry. His face was a bright red as I slammed him against the car. He gasped and struggled, dropping the gun and grabbing my hand. I shook him and there was a sharp crack as his neck snapped.

I dropped him and looked down at myself. My hoodie and shirt were full of holes now and I grimiaced.

“I just bought these,” I said.

“You didn’t have to kill him,” Guinevere said.

“He shouldn’t have insinuated that,” I said with a shrug. “Worlds better off without cops like that.”

Guinevere’s hand went up to chocker around her neck.

“You don’t think this is the cause of…” she asked, her voice unsteady with guilt.

“Don’t ever blame yourself for other people not being able to control themselves,” I said, cutting her off. “That’s like someone claiming they're not responsible for rape because they were drunk. Just because someone feels lust for you because of that thing, doesn’t make them any less responsible for what they do with those feelings.”

“What do we do now?” Guinevere asked, looking at the dead cop.

I smashed the dash and body cam under my foot.

“We get a move on,” I said. “We find some transportation and go upstate.”

“What’s there?” Guinevere asked.

“My last foster parents,” I said. “They might let us crash with them a few days.”

I moved on, spotting a group of bike riders. I was feeling especially Terminator right now and moved up to them.

“How much for one of the bikes,” I said. “And before any of you are stupid enough to ask, my wife is not on the table.”

That last part was delivered with a glare. The bikers looked me over, their eyes lingering on the bullet holes in my outfit.

“How much are you offering?” one of them asked.

“Do you take gold?” I asked dropping a small sack heavy with golden rings, coins and other jewerly.

The biker took one of the coins biting into it deforming the metal with his teeth.

“Holy shit, it’s real,” he said.

“We got a deal?” I asked.

“Fuck it, take it,” he said tossing me the keys.

I sat down and Guinevere swung on behind me. We didn’t have helmets but considering the pavement would probably crack more than my skull, we were fine. We took off and headed out onto the highway. I wanted to avoid the more busy interstate where more eyes would be on us. While I’d destroyed the body and dash cam, I wasn’t stupid enough to think I’d gotten rid of all evidence. However, I didn’t think there were enough missiles in the country to prove much of a threat. My skin was harder than any known material in this universe.

The drive took around five hours and night had fallen by the time we pulled up outside my foster parents house. Memories of sneaking out to meet my girlfriend briefly flashed through my mind, but they didn’t carry the same pain as they once had. I pushed them aside and walked up the drive, Guinevere sliding her hand into mine.

A dog started barking and the lights on the porch flashed on. The door opened and my foster mom looked out. She stared at me, her face turning white.

“Mark? Is that you?” she asked.

“Hello, Mrs. Cath…” I said but my words were cut short as she rushed out and wrapped her arms around me.

“Peter!” she shouted, and I felt the wetness of tears on her face. “It’s Mark.”

My foster father stepped out of the house and stared at me.

“Where have you been?” he asked, and I felt his arms wrap around me.

The hug should have been crushing, but to me it was like the feeble hug of an old man. Everything was so fragile in comparison to me.

“Who is this?” my mom asked.

Guinevere stood there and I watched her blush in sudden embarrassment as the attention turned to her.

“This is my wife,” I said, taking her hand and pulling her forwards. “Guinevere, I’d like you to meet my family.”