No Cedez copycats had come for him this time around.

Coming down the mountainside back to the glacier, Dave picked up the empty outfit belonging to Castiss, drained the soul bits from the shiny gems all over it and shoved it into his backpack.

The vague, shattered memories of Castiss bossing Wabbor around wobbled in his head as he slowly shambled across the glaciers, rocky terrain and farm fields towards Shandria.

. . .

Limping to the city gate, Dave spotted Murdoc sitting on his usual spot on the edge of Bessie's massive shell, the old wizard's gray eyes boring into his head.

Dave dug into his backpack and pulled out the bundle of fabric that was once Cedez's outfit. "Here. She... she wanted me to bring this back to you."

Murdoc's eyes narrowed as he accepted the gem-studded clothes.

“This too,” Dave pulled the leather collar off his wrist, handing it to the old man.

"You had one job," Murdoc said, looking down at Dave from his snail-perch with a look of disapproval.

“What job?”

"To keep her safe.”

“She’ll be back, just like the rest of them,” Dave said simply.

“You do realize that when she comes back - if she comes back - she might not be the same? Each time... it changes her. Chips away at who she is,” Murdoc said.

"And who exactly is that? The innocent cafe maid? The shadow-wielding warrior? Or maybe the manipulative princess playing us all for fools? Do you even know who she is, Murdoc?”

The old man sighed.

“What happened?” He asked.

“We went into the Void dungeon to look for some magic flowers,” Dave said. “She got stabbed by a Sentinel there. When I came out another girl like her was there with a big brute, a Strength and Vitality maxer. They tried to take me out. I took them both out instead.”

“I see,” Murdoc said.

“Who is Cedez?” Dave asked.

“She is my granddaughter,” Murdoc replied.

“Is she though?” Dave pried. “Or is she just a mad shadow you’ve adopted like a little pet and bound with magic?”

Murdoc's weathered face creased with anger, the Kitlix on his shoulder igniting with violet stars. Transparent tentacles emerged from the shiny shell, electrical current dancing at the edges. "Watch your tongue, boy. I shan’t have you spouting nonsense out in public.”

“Cedez, Oraniss, Stellaris, Castiss, how many more of them are out there? How long have you been playing this game, old man?" Dave snarled loudly, unable to control the dead writhing in his soul.

"Sir," Hyrei appeared behind Dave with a gust of wind and fluttering black and white skirts, her voice sharp. "I must insist you lower your voice when speaking to our cafe owner. This is a respectable establishment, not a tavern to brawl and shout in.”

Dave turned to face the maid.

"A respectable establishment?" He let out a mirthless bark of laughter that belonged to Wabbor. "Is that what we're calling fronts for shadow princesses these days?"

“What?” The owlgirl sputtered.

"Oh, don't tell me you didn't know," he said, his fists opening and closing. "Or are you just another pawn in this whacky game? Another soul bound by lies and empty promises?"

The maid sensed his hostility, her hand twitched, a swirl of wind dancing in her fingers. "Sir, I must insist-"

"Oh, I'm sorry," he snapped. "I forgot we're all playing pretend here. Shall I order a latte and act like everything's just peachy? Maybe I should sing a little Earth song to really sell the illusion."

Hyrei's eyes narrowed.

Some distant part of Dave knew he was lashing out, but the pain and betrayal fused with the myriads of Void monsters, memories of the brutal Champion and the Void mage overwhelmed any sense of reason. He felt unbalanced, teetering on the edge of the vast abyss, a footstep away from madness.

He was just a thought away from figuring out how to open Void gates inside of everyone’s hearts to teleport metal flakes from his own body into their weak, pathetic flesh... infect them all with the Void and Metal.

Wait… Could he really do that?

No… not yet… but he wanted them all dead. His limbs felt heavy and cold, filled with ice… his body packed with living metal demanding propagation, turning him into a Sentinel of a… Metal dungeon.

A dungeon. He was… a dungeon? A Void dungeon?

No, he was Zolish Yaslor, aghast at what happened to his city two centuries after the Verdant Republic took it and executed Duke Lumir and Saint Saria. The white Skyship docking towers were gone and the accursed Shadow cloud wrapped itself around the town, making it the property of General Nox.

He was Litsh Wabbor, in love with princess Castiss and desperately wishing for another handshake so that he could become invincible and crack more skulls to grow stronger.

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He was Oraniss and he sought to feast on knowledge that would fill her, make her whole again.

No.

She was Stellaris, and she simply wished to kill everyone in her way, to gain absolute power to rule over these simpletons.

She was Castiss and she liked Wabbor, but was extremely annoyed that her trusted, if simple, servant kept falling into a longer and longer coma which delayed the obliteration of her opponents.

No, he was none of these things. He was rationality itself. He was conceptual Understanding named Sherlock, Intelligence that wanted answers, one that very badly wanted to unravel how magic worked, one that wanted to ask endless questions and dissect magic spirits.

He blinked at the annoyed-looking owlgirl maid, her big yellow eyes judging him, ready to banish him from the cafe with a blast of wind from her hands.

"You know what?" Dave said, shaking his head as he tried to clear the swirling fog of otherness. "I'm done with this charade. All of it. The Quests, the secrets, the lies, the magical bullshit."

He turned on his heel, ignoring Hyrei's and Murdoc’s glares.

Not looking back, he strode away from the Cambria Snail Cafe.

He quickly passed through Adventurers Gate flashing his token to the guards. The bustling streets of Shandria seemed to part before him, citizens instinctively sensing the anger and madness radiating from the disheveled, blood-stained man.

As he walked, Dave's mind tried to reassemble itself, sputtering like a dying car engine filled with the wrong sort of fuel. The betrayal, the lies, the countless lives he had absorbed in the Void dungeon - it all swirled together in a maelstrom that spun around him.

He needed... an anchor. Needed something to ground him to make him whole again.

The familiar sight of Remicra's lighthouse soon came into view. He barged inside, shoving the door open, quickly marching past the dragon smith.

"Hey… What?" Remicra exclaimed, her scales shifting to a concerned orange hue when she spotted his blood-covered face and hands. "You can't just barge in here and..."

“Stop!” She called after him as he rushed up the spiral stairwell. "Where are you going?!"

Reaching the dusty loft, Dave's eyes locked onto the window. The image of Lari, her silver hair and kind eyes rendered in vibrant colors, stopped his hammering heart. Her pale hand seemed to reach out to him, asking to be freed. Without hesitation, he pushed everything into Strength.

"What in the Abyss are you doing?!" Remicra's voice came from behind him, but he paid her no heed.

With a grunt of effort, Dave wedged his fingers into the edge of the window frame, obliterating old stone. The window groaned in protest as he applied pressure, his enhanced strength causing cracks to spider-web across the ancient mortar.

"What?!" Remicra cried out in alarm. "Stop that at once!"

With a final heave, the stained glass window came free from the wall. Bits of stone and dust rained down as Dave carefully maneuvered the large panel. Tucking his prize under his arm, Dave turned to face Remicra.

The dragoness stood at the top of the stairs, her scales flickering between shades of orange and red, her eyes wide.

"Have you lost your mind?" she hissed, her tail lashing behind her.

"Yes," he replied simply. "Out of the way."

"You can't just..."

"Yes, I can," he snarled. "She belongs to me."

"What?" The dragoness sputtered.

Dave shoved the confused smith aside and stormed down the stairs, the stained glass window tucked under his arm like an oversized, fragile Frisbee. Remicra followed close behind, her claws clicking against the stone steps as she struggled to keep up with his determined pace.

"You can't just take that!" she protested. "It's part of the lighthouse! What am I supposed to tell my Overseer if she notices a new gaping hole?"

Dave paused at the bottom of the stairs. "Tell her a deranged Earth man came in and stole your window. It's not like you'd be lying."

Remicra's scales shifted to a deep blood red. "Oh, so now you're admitting to being deranged? That's just great. Maybe I should call the City Watch and have them drag you off to a cell?"

"Go ahead," Dave shrugged. "I'll be long gone by the time they get here. Besides, they probably don't have padded cells for the criminally window-obsessed."

The dragoness let out a frustrated growl. "This isn't funny, Dave!"

"Oh, now it's Dave is it?"

"Why are you taking my window Dave?!" She demanded.

"Why?" he repeated, his voice cracking. "Because she's the only thing that makes sense anymore. The only one who hasn't lied to me. I'm just going to talk to her, that's all."

Remicra's scales shifted to a confused green. "Talk to her?! It's a bloody window!”

"Yes," Dave said simply as if that explained anything.

"Where are you even going with it?" She demanded.

"Places," he replied.

"Places?" Remicra repeated incredulously. "That's not an answer, you lunatic!"

"It's the only answer you're getting," Dave retorted. He turned to leave, but Remicra quickly moved to block the door, dropping a large metal beam across it to seal the exit shut.

"Oh no, you don't," she growled. "You can't just waltz in here soaked in blood head to toe, rip out a window, and leave without an explanation!"

Dave sighed dramatically. "Fine. You want to know what's going on? I'll tell you. I'm having a bit of a personal crisis, and the only person I trust right now is this window. Satisfied?"

"No," Remicra growled. "Let's try this again. Why don't you put down the window, and we can talk about whatever is bothering you like rational beings?"

Dave's grip on the window tightened at Remicra's words.

The chaos in his mind, the storm of souls pulling at the strings of his sanity threatened to overwhelm him, but at the word "rational," something shifted. Sherlock's presence momentarily surged forward, violin music filling the recesses of his soul, chasing away the rain of the soulstorm raging within him.

"Rational?" Dave hissed as the violin tried to form a coherent melody amidst the thunder of rage and hatred. "There's nothing rational about any of this, Remicra! Nothing rational about being thrown into a world where magic is real, where people can shoot chains from their fingertips, where shadows come to life and try to eat you at night!"

His voice rose, echoing off the stone walls of the lighthouse. "There's nothing rational about finding out your best friend from Earth was collared and turned into a twisted Saint who drained life from criminals for centuries to extend the lives of the highborns! Nothing rational about cafe maids who turn out to be shadow princesses playing elaborate games with people's lives!

"And don't even get me started on the dungeons! Do you know what it's like to absorb the souls of hundreds of monsters? To feel their hunger, their rage, their twisted desires? To have your sense of self eroded by a tide of alien thoughts and memories that only desire to propagate Void magic?"

Tears began to stream down Dave's face, mingling with the dried blood that still caked his skin. "I don't even know who I am anymore. Am I Dave?! Am I Voidmancer Zolish? Am I Sir Wabbor? Or am I just a collection of souls trapped in a David-Walter-shaped meat puppet, fighting for control?”

He slid onto a grimy bench, clinging to the lead and glass window pane like a drowning man.

“I don’t understand,” the dragoness said. “Explain.”

"Why?" Dave choked. "Why should I tell you anything? You obviously don't give a shit. Just let me take this damn window and then I’ll leave you alone forever. I’m stronger now. I’ll find a way to make money to pay Dvallis or another smith!”