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The night sky stretched endlessly above me, a canvas of stars brighter and sharper than I’d ever seen before. My breathing slowed as I stared upward, the sheer vastness of it swallowing me whole.

For a moment, it was almost beautiful—a fleeting glimpse of peace in the chaos of my thoughts.

Man, the sky is soo beautiful…oh how I missed the stars…what the fuck..

But then I saw them.

Two smaller moons hung in the sky, their pale silver light casting faint shadows over the jagged peaks of the distant mountains. They were close, much closer than they should have been, their surfaces unnervingly familiar yet undeniably alien.

And then there was the other moon.

Larger, blood-red, and ominously still, it loomed over the horizon like a silent predator, its crimson glow seeping into the night like spilled ink. It wasn’t just massive—it was oppressive, a weight in the sky that seemed to press down on everything below.

I blinked, rubbing my eyes as if the act might wipe the image away. But the moons didn’t move, didn’t change.

“What the hell…” I whispered, my voice barely audible, lost in the wind that carried the faint scent of blood and decay from the shore behind me.

Spinning on unsteady legs, I tried to take in the rest of the sky, searching for something familiar, anything that might ground me in reality. That was when I saw it—a shattered moon, its fragmented pieces scattered across the heavens, forming a jagged belt of glowing debris that encircled the planet like a scar.

“No,” I muttered, the word trembling on my lips.

“No, no, no, this can’t… this isn’t real.”

I rubbed my eyes again, harder this time, until sparks of pain danced in the corners of my vision. But when I opened them, the moons were still there, silent and unyielding, mocking me with their alien beauty.

My breath hitched, panic clawing at my chest as the pieces began to click into place. The elves, the strange monsters, the Overlord, the Essence, the fucking sky—none of it made sense.

None of it fit into the world I knew.

This isn’t Earth.

The thought hit me like a hammer, sharp and unrelenting, driving straight through the fragile denial I’d been clinging to. My legs buckled, and I fell to my knees, the cold ground biting into my skin as my chest heaved with uneven, ragged breaths.

“No. No. This has to be… I just… I hit my head. I’m hallucinating. That’s all this is. I’m hallucinating.”

My hands trembled as I reached for the heirloom pendant around my neck, the familiar weight a small anchor in the storm of my thoughts.

Clutching it tightly, I closed my eyes and channeled a thread of Exira into it, ignoring the sharp spike of pain that lanced through my skull in response.

“Come on,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “Work. Just… work. Please.”

Nothing.

The pendant remained cold, and unresponsive, the intricate runes carved into its surface dim and lifeless. It was supposed to be a divine tier artifact, a constant lifeline no matter where I was. But now, it was just a piece of metal, as useless as the family ring had been.

“No, no, no,” I muttered, biting down hard on my lip as I fought back the rising wave of panic. The taste of iron filled my mouth, grounding me for a brief moment before the trembling in my hands grew worse.

I clenched the pendant tighter, the sharp edges digging into my palm as I forced my breaths to even out.

In… out. In… out. Don’t lose it, Lexi. Don’t lose it now.

But the memories wouldn’t stop. The fragments of my life—the whispers of familiar voices, the faint images of home, of my family—swirled in my mind, a cruel reminder of what I’d lost.

Each one was a piece of a puzzle I couldn’t put back together, a reminder that I didn’t belong here.

“Fuck!” I screamed, the word ripping from my throat as I threw the pendant to the ground. It bounced once, landing in the dirt with a dull clink, its presence suddenly unbearable.

I pressed my hands to my temples, my nails digging into my scalp as my breaths came faster, shallower, each one tinged with the sharp edge of panic.

“This isn’t real. This can’t be real,” I whispered, the words tumbling out like a mantra, desperate and broken.

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But no matter how many times I said it, the truth stared back at me, unyielding. The moons, the shattered fragments in the sky, the monsters, the pain in my body—they were all real.

You’re not on Earth anymore.

The thought brought with it a crushing sense of finality, like the ground had been ripped out from under me. Everything I’d known, everything I’d fought for, was gone. My family, my home, my world.

“I don’t even know where the fuck I am,” I whispered, my voice barely audible as my hands fell to my sides.

The cold wind swept past me, tugging at my torn clothes, and for a moment, I felt impossibly small, like a speck of dust in an infinite void.

“Get up.”

The words came unbidden, sharp and commanding, cutting through the haze of my panic. They didn’t feel like my own, but they pulled me back nonetheless.

“Get up, Lexi,” I repeated, my voice steadier this time.

“You’re not dead. Not yet.”

My hands clenched into fists, the trembling in my fingers subsiding as I forced myself to my feet. The world spun for a moment, but I steadied myself, my gaze locking onto the horizon where the blood moon cast its eerie glow.

“I don’t know where I am,” I muttered, my jaw tightening as the words left my mouth. “But I’m alive. And as long as I’m alive, I’ll figure this out.”

The pendant lay in the dirt at my feet, its polished surface catching the faint light of the shattered moon. I reached down, picking it up and slipping it back around my neck. It was useless now, but it was still mine.

A sudden chill radiated from my earring, sharp and unnatural, cutting through the spiraling chaos of my thoughts.

It wasn’t like the biting cold of water or wind—it was deeper, seeping into my very core, freezing me in place as though my body had turned to ice. My erratic breathing stilled, the trembling in my hands ceased, and for a fleeting moment, everything was silent.

The chill lingered for a second longer before it slowly faded, leaving a strange sense of clarity in its wake. My heart, which had been hammering against my ribs, now beat steadily, the frantic edge dulled as if someone had flipped a switch.

I lowered myself to the ground, sitting cross-legged on the rocky surface as I pressed a hand to my chest, taking a deep breath. For the first time since waking up on this cursed shore, my mind felt calm, sharp even, as though the cold had swept away the haze clouding my thoughts.

"This isn’t Earth."

The words left my mouth quietly, but saying them aloud made the thought heavier, more real. My fingers absently traced the edge of the pendant around my neck as I stared out at the strange night sky, its alien moons casting their cold light over the jagged landscape.

“No matter how much of my memory is missing, I know this isn’t Earth,” I continued, my voice steady but tinged with unease. “Earth doesn’t have this many moons. And that blood-red one… it doesn’t belong anywhere.”

A shiver ran down my spine as I glanced at the crimson orb, its ominous glow cutting through the night like a baleful eye. Something about it felt wrong on a level I couldn’t fully articulate, as though its presence alone was enough to unsettle me.

But even as the certainty of my situation settled over me, doubt crept in like an unwelcome guest. I frowned, rubbing at my temple as conflicting thoughts rose to the surface.

“Wait,” I muttered, narrowing my eyes. “I don’t have proof. Nothing against the argument. For all I know, this could still be Earth, and maybe I’m just missing some very crucial memories.”

I leaned forward slightly, resting my elbows on my knees as my mind churned through the possibilities.

“Some big ‘unga bunga’ spell that makes it look like I’m somewhere else. Or maybe I’m just losing my mind after everything that’s happened.”

I sighed heavily, rubbing at my face as the frustration built. There were too many unknowns, too many gaps in my memory and logic to form a concrete answer.

Then, a thought struck me, faint but persistent, tugging at the edges of my fragmented memories.

“Aunt Nora…” I murmured, sitting up straighter. “And Mom. They both said something once, didn’t they? About high-ranked dungeons…”

The memory was blurry, but the faint outline of their words surfaced like echoes in my mind. They’d mentioned that high-ranked dungeons were different, that they weren’t just spaces—they were small worlds in their own right.

“What if…” I trailed off, staring at the horizon as the thought took shape. “What if I’m in a dungeon?”

It made sense, didn’t it? The fragmented pieces of logic began falling into place. The strange environment, the Overlord, the Essence—everything pointed to something larger, something constructed. And then there was the runic fragment I’d found earlier.

“All dungeons have tasks, right?” I muttered, gripping the pendant tightly. “That’s what Aunt Nora always said. The runic fragment… maybe that’s connected. Maybe that’s this dungeon’s task.”

For a brief moment, the possibility felt like a lifeline, something tangible in a sea of uncertainty. But just as quickly, doubt reared its head again, tearing through the fragile logic I’d pieced together.

“Hold on,” I said, shaking my head. “If this is a dungeon, then where's its will?”

That was the one thing I couldn’t ignore—the missing piece that didn’t add up. Every dungeon I’d ever heard of had a will, a guiding presence that gave divers the details of the tasks they were meant to complete. Whether it was through runes, a voice, or a gut feeling, the will was always there, undeniable and clear.

But here? Nothing.

“I haven’t heard anything,” I muttered, my frown deepening. “Not a word, not a sign. Nothing that even feels like the will of a dungeon.”

I leaned back, resting my head against the cold, uneven ground as I stared up at the shattered moon. The debris glinted faintly in the moonlight, the jagged pieces forming a pattern that was both mesmerizing and unnerving.

“If it’s not a dungeon, then what the hell is this place?” I whispered, the question hanging heavy in the still night air.

There were no answers, only the steady pulse of uncertainty in my chest and the faint chill of the earring still lingering at the edge of my awareness. Whatever this place was, it wasn’t kind, and it wasn’t going to make understanding it easy.

I closed my eyes briefly, taking slow, measured breaths as I tried to steady my racing thoughts.

Focus, Lexi.

One step at a time. Figure out the rules of this place first—then you can worry about the rest.

The calm from the earring remained, faint but persistent, guiding me back to the present. I couldn’t afford to spiral again, not now, not when I needed every ounce of clarity to survive.

“Alright,” I muttered to myself, sitting up again and brushing the dirt off my hands. “First step: get more proof. If this really isn’t Earth, I’ll find something. Something that confirms it for sure.”

I didn’t know where that proof would come from, but I’d find it. One way or another. And when I did, I’d figure out what to do next.

For now, I’d take the faint chill in my earring as a reminder to keep moving, to keep my thoughts clear and steady. The moons might loom overhead, alien and unrelenting, but they weren’t going to stop me.

Not yet, anyway.

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