Once the effects of Allure wore off again, we, in fact, did eat. I have to say, whatever the fuck rakara eggs are, they’re goddamn delectable. The spectral servants weren’t even as weird as I thought they’d be, either. I figured they’d be like, ghosts, floating around and comically trying to cut slices of meat for us only for their hands to phase through the knife; but they were actually mostly-corporeal, and looked like regular people.

Afterward, we said our goodbyes to Tialara, thanked her for her hospitality, and moved into the room that my Eye of the Saboteur had shown was full of wonky-ass patterns.

Ha! Take that everybody else! Ol’ Loon figured something out on his own!

Stepping into the portal chamber felt like being swallowed by a subterranean beast. But it wasn't a room; it was a cavernous cathedral to darkness and power.

The towering ceilings, lost in shadow, stretched high overhead, while the space itself spread out vast and deep, echoing with whispers of unseen machines and mystical fuckin’ contrivances. Tapestries, dark and intricate, lined the stone walls—scenes of ancient battles and long-forgotten bullshit woven into their fabric. Each image seemed to move and shift subtly in the flickering magelight, adding an eerie sense of life to the stories they told. One depiction in particular drew my eye: a cowled individual hovering in place over a horde of wailing people as gray illumination radiated from behind it. Fuckin’ brutal.

Dominating the room’s center was the portal, a maelstrom of blood-red energy that churned within an ornate, gothic archway. The stone itself seemed to be alive, veins of luminescent energy pulsing beneath the surface. Scattered around the archway were cryptic devices—bundles of crystalline conduits, rune-etched slabs of obsidian, and enigmatic metallic contraptions, all humming with an ethereal light and a pulsing rhythm that resonated with the energy of the portal.

“Well, damn, if this ain't the most extra thing I've ever seen,” I muttered, unable to tear my gaze away. “Still…this is metal as fuck.”

Edwig slid along beside me, his own eyes wide. Buck, in contrast, moved with purpose and ease, as though he’d been in places like this a thousand times before.

"So, is this like...the living room?" I asked, trying to break the tension. “Or, I guess, unliving room.”

Edwig sighed and shook his head.

"More like a backdoor," Buck replied, walking ahead towards the portal. "A very special one, at that."

He turned towards us, the light from the portal casting long shadows on his demonic features.

"I suggest you both go first. I'll come in after and make sure we all end up on the right side of the planet."

"Hey, I know how to use a portal," Edwig interjected, attempting to sound confident but only managing to sound petulant. "You step in, you step out. Easy as pie."

Buck chuckled at that. I gave the illisinaf a weird look.

“I thought you said you’d done this before—that doesn’t sound very magical at all. Or correct.”

"This isn’t your run-of-the-mill arcanel doorway," Buck said, motioning towards the swirling mass of energy. "This one’s got a bit more nuance to it. It’s likely why Loon managed to come through without a Gateway Enchantment."

“Well, you’re the expert in the room,” I said, sneering at Edwig, who gave me a look like he wanted to sock my light out. “So we’ll defer to you. I’m not trying to get Brundlefly’d just because I didn’t tuck my elbows in all the way.”

“Alright,” Buck said lazily. “In that case, if you want, you can go first. Step up to it and let me know when you’re ready.”

I tentatively made my way up the little dais and stopped right in front of the swirling vortex of red potential-death. Then, getting an idea, I selected one of the only Spells I had at my disposal. One I hadn’t used hardly at all. The last time I had…well, time to create some new memories.

Discover [Doorway]

Arcane Cost: 10 Arcana Range: 30 feet Duration: 5 Minutes Restrictions: Utterance Wait: N/A

A Spell allowing the user to find hidden doorways, gates, and other exits or outlets within thirty feet. This Spell’s duration is five minutes, after which time the opening cannot be found unless the spell is cast a second time. This Spell uses Utterance and, as such, must be spoken.

Huh, so it seems like, if I’ve used it before—or if the content doesn’t change, I actually get normal information outta the thing. Interesting. I’ll have to keep that in mind.

Just like when I’d used it in the Crypt, I selected the Spell, and words began to spill out of my mouth.

“Though the passages of life may be dark, I summon the art of the discovery to make clear my path.”

Instantly, information began to populate. It was…only a little helpful.

You have used the Discover [Doorway] spell!

Well, well, well! You're trying to use a Spell designed for discovering secret doors on a very obviously not secret Gateway. I wonder what you were thinking when you got this grand idea. Well, I imagine you probably weren't thinking at all, you schmuck!

Oh the places you could go!

Regis

Esrel

Vistasuus

Cheryn’yrgyla [INACTIVE]

Palandis

Kethys [INACTIVE]

Kraychmarl

Ys [INACTIVE]

Redwater [INACTIVE]

Macchus City

Tiber

Olteidton [INACTIVE[

Baraban [INACTIVE]

Karepalea [INACTIVE]

Larith

…But you can’t go to these places because that’s not how this Spell works. Better find someone with Gateway abilities! Good luck with that, actually.

I frowned.

So the Spell did, at least, tell me which places this portal could take us to—and not only that, but it also told me which locations were currently active. If I could trust the information, that was good to know. Really glad I didn’t see something like “Pontivex’s Pleasure Palace,” or anything.

“I’m ready,” I said.

I heard Buck’s voice behind me—lazy and hassled—as he began reciting a Spell of his own.

“Bridge to connect; pathways yield; use this Gateway to traverse where simple trails cannot bear fruit. Palandis.”

Suddenly, the portal’s crimson magic swirls turned silver, mimicking what they’d done when I’d seen Dragoon go through at Yosper Hall. Well, that was a relief.

“Is it safe?” I asked over my shoulder.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Buck said.

I swallowed.

Well, here goes nothing…

I stepped forward and…found myself in pure darkness.

“What the dickens?!” I shouted, attempting to eloquently articulate my surprise.

But my voice came out as a feeble whisper, swallowed up by the thick silence of this place. The words hung in the void, eerie echoes that dissipated before they could gain any momentum. It was a strange thing, yelling in the abyss—like trying to make a splash by throwing pebbles into a painted portrait of the ocean.

It was inky black as far as my eyes could see, the kind of darkness that could play tricks on your mind. Even my Dark Vision didn’t work here. The world, devoid of all light, was unsettling and alien, yet... it definitely felt fucking familiar.

A surge of déjà vu washed over me. It was a similar sensation to that feeling you get when you walk into a room and suddenly forget why you came in—jarring, a little disconcerting, and confused why you’re holding a bowl of pennies. It was an echo of a memory I couldn't quite place, the sensation of being immersed in the heart of a forgotten dream. That feeling stirred within me, worming its way up from the depths of my consciousness. No, this was not the first time I'd found myself embraced by the cold tranquility of an abyss—but, more importantly, this specific abyss. But the question remained—why was this so familiar?

“Alright, what bullshit is it this time?”

Nothing responded, and I was forced to simply dawdle, hoping some astral animal didn’t swim up to take a bite out of me.

“This better not be another goddamn…god thing,” I continued. “I’ve had it up to my cockles with that sorta malarkey. I got places to be, douchebags!”

Still nothing.

I sighed.

“Whatever is happening right now, you’d better have a damn good reason for—”

“Yooooooo!” A voice suddenly interrupted me out of the blue. “What’s poppin,’ slime?!”

It was young sounding with a bit of a rasp to it. I recognized it immediately.

Suddenly, the entire world lit up, and I found myself standing in front of a swirling blue orb that looked as though it was filled with clouds. The Messenger orb—AKA, the very first creature I’d encountered in Regaia. It had been an oh-so helpful welcome wagon in ushering me into the world, and also giving me vague warnings about the possibility of what dire portents might befall me. Most uncomfortably, for some inexplicable reason, it had chosen to speak to me in moronically executed slang—think a scriptwriter in the nineties for a family-friendly extreme sports movie, desperately trying to nail 'youthful jive.' A direct route to comprehension town, if ever there was one.

“Well, well, well,” I said. “Long time no see, Snowglobe. How ya been?”

“Pretty lit, fam,” the orb said. “I see you’ve been busy.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Can’t complain—actually, I fucking can! What the fuck?”

“Woah,” the orb said. “Slow your roll, king—what’s with the lack of chill vibes?”

“How dare you show up and act like all is hunky-motherfuckin’-dory in the land of the shitbirds. You did not prepare me for any of this dumb, convoluted bullshit. I got people out here tryin’ to…drink me or whatever and now I have to deal with your weird, fuckin’ poorly-impersonated Gen Z gobbledegook! We don’t even talk like that—at least, not all the time! What the hell is goin’ on with your fuckin’ management!?”

“Deadass,” the orb continued. “Yeah, I’m like, not your personal therapy tok, my guy—but, you’re obviously not practicing self care at the moment. Kinda cringe. I’m here on official business, though.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I demanded. “What official business?”

“Well, I thought it was mad strange that you hadn’t come through in a minute, especially with the wild amount of Luck Accrual you’ve got on deck. I was low key buggin’ about it. So, I decided to swoop you myself.”

“Luck Accrual?” I wondered. “What’s that?”

“Bruh,” the orb said, swirling annoyingly. “Zeol told you that you’d be collecting’ some W’s if you were successful when your Luck was mid. I’m here to award ‘em to you.”

“Wait, so that wasn’t just bullshit?” I asked. “There’s an actual quantitative value for that noise?”

“No cap,” the orb said. “So, let’s see…”

“Hold up,” I said, taking a few accusatory steps forward. “First, I need an answer on something.”

“Go off,” the orb said.

“Oh, I plan to,” I said. “Why the hell is my System all fucked up? It’s worse than you are at giving me a straight answer.”

“Bro, I can’t tell you anything about that,” the orb said.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” I said.

“Nah, f’real, bro—on god. It’s above my pay grade.”

“They pay you?” I asked in bewilderment.

“It’s uh…just a phrase,” the orb said.

“Oh, well at least they’re saving some fuckin’ dollars with the indentured servitude. That’s a relief.”

“I’m not indentured,” the orb said, sounding a little offended. “But, low key, I am a servant. Still, I’m sorry AF I can’t spill the tea.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said sourly. “Anyway, whatever—let’s just get to the award ceremony. I don’t think either of us wants to be here any longer than we have to be.”

“Facts,” the orb said. “Alright, then—here’s what you got.”

The orb transformed itself into a sort of flatscreen, and I watched as information began to populate before me.

Luck Accrual

Congratulations! You’ve accrued Luck Badges!

Accumulating enough Luck Badges awards you various options for your personal use! These Badges are awarded based on your performance during times of low-Luck situations—netting one Badge per successful circumstance. However, failure during high-Luck situations results in a removal of Luck Badges. The amount of Luck Badges you have received is based on the cumulative amount of positive and negative Luck Badges received.

Luck Badges: 24

You may use Luck Badges to advance Attributes, or hold the amount for a later time.

Would you like to use your Luck Badges to advance your Attributes?

Current ratio is 1 - 1.

Yes/ No

“So… I basically just get extra Points?” I asked.

“Most def, sis,” the orb returned. “You can use ‘em up, or bank ‘em. But you gotta decide which.”

“Do I get anything for holding off?”

“Other than delayed gratification? Nah, fam. Not really. You get some extra features depending on your cumulative, but…your cumulative goes up whether you use them or not—so, really…no presh either way. Your call, chief.”

I sighed, then, when I realized what that meant, I actually got a little excited.

Twenty-four…Badges meant that I had a total of twenty-four Points. Which was exactly the kind of uplifting content I was here for.

“Oh, hell yeah,” I said. “Fuck off for a second, Jizzglobe, I’m gonna do some mental percolating.”

“...Bussin,’” the orb said.

I paused.

“Hey there, bestie,” I said in casual mockery. “You sure you used that right? Startin’ to sound a little cheugy, if you ask me.”

“Pfft, okay Boomer,” the orb said.

“Of-fucking-course…” I groaned. Then, because I didn’t have the energy to deal with these sorts of shenanigans, I got to work.

It didn’t take me long to figure out how I wanted to dole them bitches out. I was getting better at putting an outfit together, that was for sure. First, I put two Points into each of my Attributes, bringing Strength and Dexterity to nineteen, Wisdom and Charisma to thirteen, and Intelligence to fourteen. Then, because I’m nothing if not a bit of a rube—I put the remaining fourteen Points into Constitution. This brought that Attribute to a whopping fifty-six.

Fuckin’ fear me, I thought.

Once I’d gotten that well and truly sorted, I made to return to my…extremely enlightening conversation with the orb, but that was when the screen changed again, and some new, equally baffling information populated before me.

Congratulations! For accruing at least 10 Luck Badges, you have unlocked [1] Luck-Based Ability!

Ability gained: Jeopardy Hunch

Jeopardy Hunch

An alarm system designed as though by the most neurotic of guardian angels. With it, you become privy to impending danger with the subtlety of a town crier on “energy potions.” Tripwire across the path? It's got your back. Poisonous serpent in your boot? It'll give you a heads-up. It's like having a paranoid grandmother in your head constantly warning you about the perils of... well, everything. Yes, perhaps it spoils the surprise element of the odd death trap here and there, but isn't life just a smidgen more interesting with a sprinkle of anticipatory dread?

“Jeopardy Hunch…?” I said. “That sounds like I named it. What’s the deal here? Not that I’m going to argue with a free meal—but, hell, this doesn’t exactly feel earned.”

Then, because we’d already built a bridge to the dynamic, I added, “Sus.”

“Oh, there’s more where that came from, fam,” the orb said. “Check it out.”

The display changed again, and this one, well…it was unique.

Congratulations! For accruing at least 20 Luck Badges, you have unlocked [1] Luck-Based Profession! Choose from the options below!

Available Professions:

Gambler

A professional risk-taker, the Gambler is your go-to for turning a copper into a kingdom or, more likely, a kingdom into a copper. With the ability to make you question the concept of probability itself, Gamblers thrive on the adrenaline of the unknown. Of course, they might occasionally bet the deed to the town's orphanage on a pair of threes, but where's the fun in playing it safe?

Gain Lucky Guess Ability

Lucky Guess: Increases the success rate of making correct guesses or predictions in games of chance or decision-making scenarios. Current Synergy: F-Rank (No Synergistic Abilities or Skills)

Fortune Teller

Nothing spells ‘uncertainty’ quite like the future, but Fortune Tellers would have you believe they've got it all sussed out. They’re experts at casting their eyes into the depths of time, weaving cryptic tales, and just generally knowing more about your life than you do. But remember, when your fortune states 'dangerous waters lie ahead', they're probably not talking about your upcoming fishing trip.

Gain Divination Ability

Divination: The Ability to gain insights about a person, place, or object, with the accuracy determined by the Fortune Teller’s Luck stat. Current Synergy: D-Rank (Insight)

Treasure Hunter

The eternal optimists of the adventuring world, Treasure Hunters can find the silver lining in any dungeon. To them, every rusty sword is a relic, every broken statue a priceless artifact, and every shiny pebble is, well, shiny. Their obsession with all things gold and glittery may result in a few extra goblin ambushes, but hey, no pain, no gain, right?

Gain Fortunate Find Ability

Lucky Find: A Passive Ability that increases the chance of finding valuable items or artifacts. Current Synergy: F-Rank (No Synergistic Abilities or Skills)

Charlatan

Masters of the three 'D's—deception, distraction, and duplicity—Charlatans can talk their way out of a dragon's belly. They have an unerring knack for promising mountains and delivering molehills, all with a smile that could charm a harpy. Sure, they might sell you a map to a nonexistent treasure or convince you that the worn-out shoe is actually a magical artifact, but isn't the joy in the journey, not the destination?

Gain Misdirection Ability

Misdirection: An ability that allows the trickster to distract others or divert their attention, often helping to escape tricky situations. Current Synergy: C-Rank (Eye of the Saboteur + Deception + [Knowledge] Sabotage)

Trader

Traders are the beating heart of any economy - provided that heart buys low, sells high, and occasionally peddles suspiciously discounted health potions. They can spot a bargain in a trash heap and would probably sell their own grandmother if the price was right. So yes, their scales might always tilt in their favor, but in a world where ruin could be around the corner, who wouldn't want a good haggle?

Gain Discerning Eye Ability

Discerning Eye: An Ability that allows the Trader to assess the value of an item or a trade deal accurately. Current Synergy: C-Rank (Eye of the Saboteur + Perception)

“No fuckin’ way,” I exclaimed. “I’m getting a Profession? A job?! Hell yeah. Do I get any money from it?”

“Nah, fam,” the orb said. “Not unless you actually apply it to a trade or something. This gives you the juice to start if you want, though. I mean, some of these options are based, but others…eh, not so much.”

“Fuck you, Roy Orbison,” I said. “You’re just big mad that I got myself a pathway to financial independence.”

“It ain’t like that,” the orb continued.

“Sure it isn’t,” I said. “Die mad.”

“You’re making this hella diffy to assist you, you know?”

“Die. Mad.” I emphasized again.

“Deadass,” the orb said. “How about choosing something, so we can get this over with?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” I said.

I gave each Profession the consideration they deserved—mostly because I was now, slowly, starting to think about the long term effects of my choices. Score one for proactivity, right?

But first…

Gambler. That was a title that had all the allure of a mysterious stranger in a smoky room, a stack of chips ready to be transformed into a life-changing fortune. But in reality, considering my previous profession of a semi-competent, mostly jobless slob in a world without magic, I was more likely to bet my life savings on a three-legged horse because its name was funny. Probably something like 'Tripod.'

Hehe, Tripod…

Fortune Teller? Pass. I wasn’t interested in knowing anything more about people than I already did—which was too much. Nah. Next!

Treasure Hunter. I guess it sounded kinda romantic—unearthing long-lost valuables and forgotten artifacts and shit. But…having Rexen in the roster made that sorta useless, right? He claimed to have a fuckload of boltholes to stow his vast arsenal of riches—not to mention the Crypt itself. And, we were already on our way to purloin some of them precious objects, weren’t we? Other than that, the idea just didn’t really interest me all that much.

Charlatan. Hm. Well, that had a negative connotation from the get. Honestly, reading the description again, it sounded a lot like some of my family members. Maybe that's why it felt so comfortable? Suppose I’d put that in the ‘maybe’ column. It had an Ability called Misdirection that would apparently mesh really well with my Eye of the Saboteur—like a peanut butter and jelly waffle of wham-inducing mayhem.

Trader? The beating heart of the economy? The Discerning Eye Ability sorta beat tits—especially with whatever that Synergy seemed to mean. C-Rank, I guess. Which was the same as Misdirection. But overall? Snore. I didn’t want to be associated with mercantile goods—and like, what if it meant I’d have to actually care about selling things to people? Ugh. Plus, the term 'Trader' brought back disturbing memories of middle school. For instance, the time I was swindled by Connor DeMarco into swapping my awesome lunch—which consisted of one-hundred percent Snack Packs—for his gross tuna-and-tomato sandwich. Yeah, no thank you.

So, after some extensive deliberation—which mostly involved silently mouthing the names and considering my previous life’s minor traumas—I thought, fuck it. If I'm going to be a lucky bitch, I might as well be a crafty one, too. Charlatan, it is!

I selected the Profession, and saw it populate into my character sheet as the screen morphed back into the orb.

“Slay,” the orb said.

“If only,” I said, eyeing it up and down. “So…is that it? I’m free to go?”

“One more thing,” the orb said, and I noticed its color started to change from the traditional shimmering blue to…kind of a ghostly white.

“Sus,” I said again. However, I received no knee-jerk response to my comment. Instead, the whole area seemed to darken a little and I had the distinct impression that the Messenger orb was fuckin’ with the acoustics in this joint because when I tried to say, “What the H-E-double bean poles is going on?” nearly no sound at all escaped.

Oh, brother, what dicked up balderdash is on the menu now?

"Yo, chillax, bro. It's just a minor tweak. An upgrade, if you will. All part of the dealio," the orb responded, and I could've sworn I heard a note of urgency hidden beneath its attempt at nonchalant lingo. The change in its color was also striking—like the transition from a sunny summer's day sky to the pallor of winter's chill. It was disconcerting, to say the least, yet I couldn't look away.

"Upgrade?" I repeated, trying to find my voice again in the dimmed echo-chamber of the void. "What kind of next-gen hipster malarkey is that?"

Before the orb could answer, I felt a strange pulling sensation—like an unseen force was gently tugging on the fabric of my being. The feeling was so subtle, yet so profound, that I wondered if it was actually there.

The orb maintained its silence, adopting a stillness that felt oddly serious in contrast to its usual snark.

"Are you... okay?" I asked, because why not?

The orb shimmered, its ghostly white facade casting a haunting glow in the otherwise muted void. It was beautiful, in a deeply unsettling, borderline ominous way.

"Yo, I'm Gucci, fam," the orb replied, finally breaking its silence. But its voice lacked its customary chutzpah—it felt hollow, almost grave. "Just gotta drop some 411 on you. There's something you should be…woke about."

"Yeah, sure," I said, trying to regain my composure, which was now hanging on by a thread. The orb's sudden shift in demeanor, combined with the oddly tangible sensation of foreboding that was starting to creep up my coccyx.

The orb pulsed, and the fluctuation in its light cast ephemeral, ghost-like shadows around us.

"Now, keep your wig on, 'kay? This is gonna sound a little cray-cray, but it's straight printer."

"Spit it out, globe-boy," I muttered, crossing my arms and putting on my best 'couldn't-care-less' face.

The orb let out a sigh—if an orb could sigh, that is. Then it began, "So, you've got your Profession, and that's sick, right? Well, here's the stitch. The System? It's like...it's like..."

I held my breath, waiting for the dramatic conclusion. The proverbial penny was hanging in the air, ready to drop and shatter the silence.

The orb shuddered, and in a voice that was barely more than a whisper, it finished, "It's like playing a game of fetch with a Rottweiler that hasn't decided yet if it's more interested in the stick or your hand."

I blinked, taking a moment to process. The comparison seemed utterly ludicrous, and yet...there was something about the way the orb had said it. Something that nudged at my instincts, igniting a flare of wariness within me.

"So, what? I should be careful?" I asked, trying to make sense of the cryptic warning. “Cuz I’m way ahead of you on that.”

“Something like that, homie,” the orb replied, its glow fading slightly. “Just remember, ain’t nothing in this world that's free, you feel? Not even the Skills you've been granted. Everything's got a price tag."

“Price tag?” I wondered.

“Also,” the orb said. “You should do somethin’ about those Esper Nodes. Advance ‘em or something, king—you’ll be glad you did.”

I thought about that. The mystery of those little babies was still at-large and I was just tooting around with them jingling in my soul pocket like a set of loose keys.

“You’re being weirdly helpful,” I said. “Why?”

“We’re all watchin,’ fam,” the orb said, his voice sounding as though it was fading. “When the time comes, I hope you make the right call.”

“What do you—”

But before I could finish vocalizing my confusion, the Messenger orb began to shrink until it was no bigger than a marble. It hadn’t done that last time. Then, it disappeared entirely, leaving me alone in the darkness of the void, my mind reeling with what I'd just heard. The silence that followed was both deafening and damning.

“Well, that was fuckin’ stup—-Auuuyyyaaggghhh!”

I was interrupted mid-dismissal as the world spun and flashed red. My body was on fire and like, I dunno, fuckin’ stretching or something. I think I’d heard it called spaghettification? Which sounded delicious and terrifying. Well, to paint a picture: I felt like my soul was getting pushed back and forth forever through one of those hand-turned sausage machines. You know the ones. Pressed and slopped around, fed through a mesh by some old, gouty financially-plagued, rock-knuckled dude named “Frankie,” or “Bobby,” as the physics-defying husky stem of ash dangled from the end of his cigarette filter—barely contained within the confines of my own greasy skin. Meat grinder! That’s the term! Man, I feel like I knew that.

Anyway, where was I? Right.

“Auuuuyyyaaaggghhh!” I continued screaming.

The feeling intensified, and I wasn’t sure how exactly I was going to survive this level of pain. Legit, this shit was excruciating. Like getting all your teeth pulled with a fork and no anesthesia. Through your neck.

Finally, after a few long, long moments, it stopped. I kept screaming for a handful of seconds longer—you know, just to be sure—and then finally opened my eyes. I was on my back, staring up at…the night sky?

It took me a moment to realize it was a ceiling, laden heavy with a clusterfuck of intricate carvings. Mythical beasts, constellations, moons, planets, and whatnot—like someone spilled a damn bestiary and an astrology chart on it. Then I noticed the chandeliers. Giant fuck-off things, throwing glow around like some budget version of stars. And as I looked down, I saw that all this grandiosity was reflected in the shiny marble floor beneath me.

Wait…marble?

It appeared that I was laying on my back in an area that very much made me think of Grand Central Station or some other Beaux-Arts style terminal. Don’t be impressed by my knowledge—nothin’ is more goth than Beaux-Arts.

The place was studded with columns, sturdy like chiseled titans. All pretty, like—sloping and shit. Real nice.

Then there were the portals. They were like eyes of demons, ripped out and casually slapped onto the walls, changing colors like a Polish dyskoteka as people plopped outta them before returning to silver, each promising a journey from somewhere stranger than the last.

The terminal was a mix of opulence and comfort. Like pouring champagne into your cereal bowl—that sort of mashup. There was even a giant, living tree rooted amidst the marble, spreading its branches like an octopus. It was so seamlessly fused with the architecture, I couldn't tell where nature ended and humanoid-made began. Freaky.

I blinked up as hundreds of people had stopped what they were doing, frozen mid-step to stare at what I now realized must have been the frightening spectacle of a six-foot-four-inch, spotted orc in furred armor shrieking like he was going to die and doing snow angels on the polished marble. And I was putting on quite a show for the starers—humanoid and otherwise—who were pausing to enjoy the free entertainment.

All in all, I was floored—literally and figuratively—by the grand old bitch of a portal station. This was the sort of shit that makes you go, "What in the holy hell am I doing here?" And the answer? Well, fuck knows.

“Uh, hey…” I said to the entire congregation of statue-impersonators. “...How’s it hangin?’”

I felt a stab of anxiety suddenly course through me, and the world went purple for a second as my vision zeroed in on the crowd.

Well, what the heck is that abou—

“IT’S A FUCKING RAID!” Someone screamed, and that was when the entire fucking place went absolutely mental. Weapons were drawn, magic shields went up, people were charging Spells—I’m pretty sure I even saw one guy whip out a slingshot. It was pandemonium, with half the assembly getting ready to square up with me, and the other half bolting for their lives.

“Oh…right,” I said aloud as several individuals ran at me. “I’m an orc.”