(Kingdom of Effel)
The clearing by the waterfall smelled of wet stone and crushed petals, a scent so thick it almost stuck to the skin.
Sunlight threaded through the mist in thin streams, painting the air in bright colors. Flowers swayed as if bowing to the couple that was at in the center, their colors shouting in wild bursts of violet and red.
She spun, a silk and emerald dress catching the sunlight in magic that left faint glimmers in the air. Her hair was dark and braided with tiny silver charms, flicked against his chest as she laughed. Her husband wore sapphire and cream, finely stitched but ill-suited for someone with broad shoulders built more for labor than courtly dances, yet it somehow made him look like he belonged there with her.
A half-circle of bards crouched at the edge of the flower bank, their outfits layered with floating embroidery and delicate chains that seemed to hum with their own resonance. Their violins weren't instruments really, but conduits, glowing faintly as if the bows pulled light itself through the strings.
"Oh, you. Where did you find these bards?" she asked, voice light, a teasing curl at the edge of her lips.
He grinned, shoulders shaking with the humor of his own despair. "Most expensive shit in the kingdom. Thanks to you, I have no gold left."
She nudged him lightly, laughter in her eyes. The bards played on, the sound a shimmering net around the dancers.
"The All Mother blesses me this day," he said quietly, almost to himself. "It's been bright all day, longer than usual."
"They say when the sun shines longer than usual, it's her smiling," she replied, tilting her head. "It's what I heard, anyway."
"What about when she's taking a shit?" he muttered, eyebrows raised. "Does the sun turn brown?"
Another nudge, a little harder. "Knock it off," she said, still laughing.
They twirled again, feet brushing the soft grass, the woman's skirt flicking petals into the air. The world felt impossibly wide and impossibly light at this moment. "But…this is the greatest day ever," she murmured. "The Prophets of the All Mother always said there would be times of joy for me if I believed she would provide."
"Yeah, you told me your parents took you to the Prophets when you were a kid."
She pressed her soft lips to his, leaving a kiss, then rested her forehead against his chest. "And now I'm here with you because of them. I kept my faith in her, and now I'm dancing horribly in the middle of expensive bards."
The man laughed and pulled her closer for another turn.
….
Thats when everything broke out.
In the capital of Effel, called the Northfire, every eye lifted to the sky. The markets froze mid-motion, carriage wheels spun uselessly., and children clung to their parents, faces pressed to sleeves or collars, wide-eyed.
Fear rippled outward like a shockwave, with gasps and the thumping of hearts being louder than the silence that came about.
"No…no!" a man shouted, voice cracking, hands trembling as he tried to pull himself to his knees.
"This can't be real!" a woman shrieked, dragging her children behind her.
"It's her!" a boy cried, pointing upward as his mother tried to hush him, only to freeze herself, staring.
"H-How…? How?!"
Above them, the impossible truth loomed. The goddess of creation, The All Mother, stretched across the sky, colossal beyond comprehension, her body carved in perfect, ethereal curves that dwarfed the city itself.
Dead.
Every detail of her skin, her hands, the delicate sway of celestial fabric around her shoulders, was visible and horrifying. Her arms reached outward, open as if to embrace the world or perhaps to fall. The garments she wore shimmered with strands of dying starlight, her skin glowed with a faint hue, pale as alabaster yet flecked with veins that shimmered like liquid sapphire and rose-gold, those little subtle details catching the fractured sun. But her skin had blood all over it, wounds that didn't seem to be normal.
Her hair spilled in big waves, dark as midnight but threaded with starlight and white fire, drifting in slow currents like the wind itself dared not to touch her.
Her lips were parted in a gasp, her eyes closed, lashes long, framing a face that had created worlds yet now bore the stillness of death in the presence of her own creation. And every finger was spread wide as if reaching for life or condemning the living below.
Directly above her 400 foot tall colossal body, the sun itself seemed wounded. A curved split ran through its center, darkened patches creeping over the surface like spreading bruises, dimming the daylight. It cast a strange dark trembling glow over the city, a half-light that made the air thick with panic.
"The sun!"
"This… is a fucking nightmare!"
Children whimpered, pressing faces into the folds of their parents' clothing, nails biting into fabric. Adults gasped, some unable to speak, some praying aloud, others screaming curses at the sky.
Horses reared, bells clanged, and the city trembled under the weight of sighting a dead god stretched beneath the fractured sun.
"The All Mother!"
The All Mother, the source of all creation, was dead, and the world itself seemed to hesitate in its mourning.
The square below the sky-choked capital had become a writhing mass of white and gold. The Prophets of the All Mother, their robes layered with embroidery that shimmered like light from the sun and sigils of protection and faith, fell to their knees, faces wet with tears, hands shaking, voices breaking as they screamed.
"No!!!!"
"All Mother!"
The sound carried over the city like a physical weight, cracking the calm aura that had once lived here. Their hair, silver and black and streaked with divine dyes, clung to their faces from the heat of their panic. The older Prophets clutched their staffs as if they could force reality to bend to their desperation, while younger acolytes trembled, pressed against the older ones, eyes wide with disbelief.
One of the senior mages stepped forward with his lips trembling and hands raised to the sky. "The All Mother… it can't be her in that state! Heal her! Restore her body back to beauty!! This is a test!"
'This must be a test from her! She would never allow herself to be thwarted like this! She's testing us…yes…that's it!'
Others followed, raising their own hands, drawing magic crests and sigils of healing and restoration in the air. A song of chants from the Prophets rose, their voices layered and echoing in unison.
"Lúthien… Amah… Selyth… Enara…
Return… O Mother… Return… O Light…
Breathe… O Life… Flow… O Divinity…"
Each word rang with power, each syllable vibrating in the very air, weaving through the mass of people and lifting faint healing magic toward the sky. Their hands stretched upward, toward her colossal form, hoping to wrap divine threads of restoration around her.
Then there was more horror.
One Prophet's head burst open in a wet, violent bloom, blood spraying outward, soaking the golden robes of his neighbor. The scream froze in his throat as eyes rolled upward, brain matter leaking across the smooth cobblestones. Others, watching in disbelief, stumbled back, only to have the same fate strike. Heads exploding, blood arching like dark fireworks, mimicking the rhythm of their chants, turning the square into a nightmarish tableau.
The shrill screams multiplied, parents dropped children, priests dropped their staffs, and every last Prophet stared, frozen in terror, some fainting, some vomiting off to the side, and others sobbing in the sudden slaughter.
Above them, the All Mother's still body hung in the sky.
The air itself seemed to hold its breath, waiting. Then, flickering on the corner of a few terrified Prophets' vision, a small, almost absurdly mundane system notification appeared, hovering in the air, silent to anyone else. It glowed faintly, like a shard of ice caught in sunlight.
[14 Parasites approve]
…
…
…
Bellum's green eyes snapped open, blinking against the dim but pulsing light around him. The first thing he realized was that he was inside something. Not a room or a cave or anything ordinary, but inside a living wall of flesh, slick and pink, with veins twisting beneath the surface like tiny rivers.
His messy brown hair fell just past his ears, sticking in damp strands of sweat against his forehead. He tugged at his leather cloak instinctively, claws of gauntleted hands scraping at the sticky surface. His armor was leather, layered and reinforced with steel plates, straps and buckles around his waist, felt heavy but protective at the same time, the gauntlets' sharp fingertips digging into the pink walls as he pushed.
'What…?'
"What the hell?!" he grunted, straining, jerking his body, the flesh quivering like a heartbeat around him. Outside, somewhere distant, a thunder of fighting…or was it roaring?..echoed through the walls, muffled and terrifyingly alive.
Around him, dozens upon dozens, or maybe even almost a hundred people began to stir, eyes opening slowly, blinking at the impossible place they were trapped in.
"Huh? Where am I? Where are we?!" someone muttered, voice cracking.
"This has to be a dream…it has to be!" another whispered, wide-eyed, trembling.
"Those fucking pills I took, I knew they'd bring me to the good place, haha!" An old man laughed, hoarse and brittle, a broken smile that didn't touch his eyes.
Bellum braced himself and heaved, scraping himself free, finally collapsing to his knees in the wet, quivering pink ground. The place stank of iron and bile and…something alive. Outside, the rumbles continued, the roars growing closer, but here it was like being sealed in a woman's womb.
Other people fought their own ways free. Screams and cries echoed through the membrane.
"Someone explain what's going on!"
"Did we get kidnapped?!"
"Fuck this! Find a way out!"
A bald, muscular man slammed onto the floor, tattoos of the sun etched into his chest, fur pants clinging to his waist. A thick, bushy brown beard shook with his rage, a scarred eyepatch covering one light brown eye. His large muscular hands quivered as he pounded the fleshy walls, voice deep and raw with grief.
"I was holding her…I was holding my daughter's hand in the hospital…she was dying…she was dying!"
He rose, smashing fists into the quivering wall over and over, each punch making others flinch, their own panic amplified by his fury.
Bellum's gaze sharpened. "Tch! We can't sit in here."
'And those walls aren't even budging when that bald guy hit them..'
A grin flickered across his face despite the blood running warm inside his gauntlets. 'Damn you, fate. Always making me unlucky when the time is fucking convenient. I won't fall yet, you bastard. I was in the middle of finally escaping that stupid prison. Now… I'm here. Damn it…!'
He paused, feeling the warmth in his hands, the telltale sting of blood pooling beneath the leather.
More people tore themselves from the living walls, some dragging flesh and filaments with them in nasty messy bursts. A young man with dark pink eyes, spiked red hair tied into a violent ponytail, a ripped brown tunic exposing scarred arms, baggy black silk pants and bare feet, laughed as he landed on the pink ground.
"Now this is more like it! More action!"
A terrified woman staggered nearby, tears streaming down her face. "How can you just accept this?! Are you not worried something dragged us here?!"
He flashed her a lopsided grin. "Eh, shut up. This is all just a shitty dream anyway—"
"It's not a dream!" someone shouted, cutting through the half-laugh.
Bellum's pulse staggered a little, his heart pounding in his chest. All around him, more people were falling from the dark pink walls, some screaming, some crying, some cautiously testing their freedom like frightened animals, others utterly confused, clutching at their clothes or armor, whispering rapid prayers or curses, whichever helped them understand what was going on..
Then, one fell out slower. A figure rolled onto the quivering ground. Long ash-blonde hair spilled across the flesh, catching the dim light. A circlet of light brown and dark green rested around her head, framing yellow eyes wide with shock and pointy ears peeking from beneath her hair. Freckles dusted her pale cheeks, and a dark yellow branch tattoo under her eye.
She wore dark green and brown elven armor, the edges reinforced and impressively elegant, which were layered over sturdy leather with ornate patterns etched into the metal.
She blinked, taking in the chaos around her, voice small and uncertain.
"What's going on…? I'm not supposed to be here…"
Bellum's gaze flicked to her sharply, taking in the delicate curve of her ears. "Those ears…" he muttered under his breath.
The elf girl's dark yellow eyes met his, cool, detached, almost unreadable. "Have you… ever seen an elf before?" Her voice was calm, almost indifferent, but carried an edge of curiosity.
"I don't care what you are," Bellum snapped, gritting his teeth. "I care about leaving. Who the hell are you?"
She tilted her head slightly, strands of ash-blonde hair brushing her circlet. "Sephyr. But I'm… not supposed to be here. I'm supposed to be with…"
Bellum's brow furrowed, taking a step back, scanning the writhing flesh walls. "Where are we? You're talking like you know something. There aren't rude elves from my world."
Sephyr's expression hardened, eyes narrowing. "Your world? Where are you from, human?"
Bellum let out a frustrated huff. "Some place where they didn't have elves. We had guns, plasma blades, tanks, phones… all that stuff and more. And I had a whole supply of them when I kicked ass as a contract killer."
Sephyr blinked slowly. "Blades…" She didn't recognize the rest.
Around them, more people tumbled free from the wall. Bran, the bald, muscular man with the sun tattoo across his chest, eyepatch, bushy brown beard grabbed a man by the throat, slamming him against the wall, hands squeezing tight. "Don't tell me to calm down! I was with my daughter! I was with her during her last fucking moments! Her mother isn't there… it was just me!"
A terrified voice rang out, breaking through the chaos. "Screaming at each other isn't gonna help! We need to work together!"
Vaxan, the spiked red-haired man with the violent ponytail, grinned as he landed on the ground, stance casual despite the panic. "This dream seems more real than I thought. I like it."
Bran's glare snapped toward him, releasing his previous victim. Slowly, deliberately, he turned back toward Vaxan. "You think this is a game?"
Vaxan snickered, shrugging, lips curling in amusement. "Everything's a game, isn't it? Life's one big game we're all playing."
Bellum folded his arms, eyes sharpened. "You're all pissing me off."
Both men swung their gazes to him. He clenched his fists, voice low but cutting through the chaos. "It's getting on my nerves, really. I suck at sitting still in one spot, and all of this arguing and not trying to figure a way out is making me insane." Bellum added.
Vaxan's grin widened. "I like him."
Bran's eyes narrowed, voice deep and heavy. "Watch your tongue too, brat. Or I'll rip it out of you."
Bellum responded. "Do it, and I'll spread your insides all over the walls."
Vaxan nodded, saying to Bran, "Hear that? He said he'll spread your ass."
Bellum squealed like a girl, "I didn't say that! Bastard!"
Bran clenched his fists, turning around to look at everyone else. "….I have to get back. I have to…she was all I had…my little girl. I cannot stay here!" He roared.
Sephyr stiffened, gaze distant, thoughts swirling and confused as everyone else. 'What am I doing here…? With these humans…? Inside something with the beings I dislike the most. The most carnal and chaotic of creatures… what did I do to deserve this? Am I being punished?'
People around her stared with puzzled looks, some were even pointing at her ears, whispering amongst one another, others audibly questioning what the hell they were seeing.
"Those ears…"
"She's from the stories I heard back in my world, elves or something."
"She's not the only strange thing in here with us. I saw a bunny humanoid, a talking snake, and other shit. What if I'm on drugs? There's no other way to explain this!"
Then, in the midst of the chaos, a faint light flickered before them. A blue system window hovered in the air, almost innocuous against the carnage of the living walls. Roars and distant battle noises continued, but the floating screen's glow still cut through the interior.
'Battle outside of here as well…' Sephyr thought.
Everyone froze due to being confused, whispering to each other questions no one knew the answer to. Sephyr's eyes narrowed as the same window flickered directly in front of her. Bellum's stare followed the glow as one settled before him.
The text blinked into existence.
[Ready to be asked questions against your will? Good]
Bellum's brow furrowed. "Huh? Where are we?! Answer mine first!"
'Dumb floating screen… it's similar to the technology in my world… are we in my world? It can't be… this elf beside me, we don't have those.' he thought,
The system's text shifted immediately:
[Favorite color?]
"…Red?" Bellum muttered.
[Red? Gross. You lose points for that]
Bellum scoffed, "You'll lose your head if I find you!"
[Talking back? More points lost]
"Tsk." Bellum folded his arms and looked away.
[Favorite food?]
"…Steak.." he answered, voice rising.
'I'll play along for now. I don't like it but…It seems I don't even have a choice. Something is toying with our lives. Something I hate the most.'
[Steak? Nothing but grease and shit. Yeah, this one might be slow]
Bellum stared into the floating window, fists tightening inside his gauntlets. "Huh? Damn you! What are you?!"
The reply came instantly:
[9 Parasites disapprove]
[5 Parasites approve]
[Disapproval points earned: Cursed Alignment Granted]
[Weapon: Dual wield Katana, name: Tyrant]
[Class: Cursed Swordsman]
[Affinity: Darkness]
[We'll keep an eye on this one. He's interesting]
Rumbling shook the fleshy walls again in a deep and terrifying vibration, then subsided as if the battle outside had reached a crescendo, but it didn't, as it started back up again.
Bellum's eyes darted around him. Every person trapped there now had a glowing screen of their own, hovering before them. Arguments and panicking, and disbelief rippled as people shouted at their respective systems, demanding answers, cursing fate, some trembling with fear, others glaring with obvious rage.
[Favorite color?]
A panicking man threw his hands up. "Yellow! It's yellow! PLEASE HELP US!"
[We like yellow. And stop yelling at us]
Another window flashed nearby.
[Favorite food?]
An old man with a wide, blissful grin tapped his chest. "Haha! Medicine!"
[Calm down, you feen]
[Yeah this old man's messed up in the head. I like him]
[11 Parasites approve]
[3 Parasites disapprove]
[Blessed points gained]
[Blessed Alignment acquired]
Bellum watched the chaotic exchanges, brow lifting. "Something's judging us? Giving us something in return for how they think. Usually the shit like this back in my world didn't have personality at all…it was just bland. These have personality…"
Sephyr stepped slightly closer, voice cool. "You have an eye for perception, human. We should stick together until we leave wherever this is. After that, I cannot be near you humans."
"I don't care, really," Bellum muttered, rubbing his jaw. "I'm only out for myself. Once we get out of wherever we are, I'm gonna find a way back."
'Do I even wanna go back…?'
He lowered his hands and the shadows around him twisted. Metal scraped reality itself as a black katana manifested in his right hand, its handle wrapped in barbed wire, dripping black. A red spiraling eye blinked open along the blade's surface. Another identical weapon formed in his left hand, shadows lashing around his fingers.
Bellum's eyes rolled pure white. His breath hitched—
His nose bled—
And a voice dragged itself from his throat like a creature pulling itself through a crack.
"My name is…Tyrant. Made from the skin of dead dragons and cursed Titans. I am in your hands."
Bellum gasped as his vision returned, the weapons heavy in his hands. His knees buckled and he hit the floor, palms trembling.
"Something talked through me…?"
'There's no doubt about it. This place is real. No dreams or games, this is the real thing. And how we got here? Who fucking knows.'
All around him, screams, gasps, and curses erupted. People were temporarily being overtaken by their weapons, some glowing, some seething. Those with Cursed weapons convulsed like he did, eyes going pale, noses bleeding as dark magic clawed through their skulls. Their blades and artifacts throbbed with corruption and darkness laced with strange forbidden magic.
Those blessed were struck by beams of soft color, their weapons forming beautifully: detailed hilts, radiant symbols, elemental swirls, light magic flowing like rivers.
Vaxan cackled as a massive griffon's leg bone appeared in his hands, sharpened into a brutal bludgeon. "Hell yeah!"
Bran gripped a warhammer, it's head shaped like twin roaring lion visages, its handle wound with celestial markings. Light pulsed from the runes along its surface. His hand trembled around the grip. "If I need to use this to make it back and bury my daughter… then so be it." His voice lowered to a whisper. "I'll take the lives of anyone who gets in my way."
Sephyr's own window glowed in front of her.
[Favorite color?]
"Gold," she said simply.
[Perfect color]
[Amazing color]
[That's rich asshole color. Gold. As in gold coin, a bunch of it]
[Blessed points acquired]
[Favorite food?]
"I only eat plants and fruit. I'm a Pure Elf."
[Plants!]
[She's pure!]
[Blessed Alignment acquired]
[Weapon: Rapier]
[Class: Blessed War Dancer]
[Affinity: Sunlight]
Bellum's jaw dropped. "WHAT?! NO FAIR! THIS ELF EATS GRASS AND SHIT!"
The system window flickered:
[Mind your business, humer! Cursed points acquired]
[13 Parasites disapprove]
[1 Parasite approves]
Bellum tilted his head, "Humer? Is that racist? Human but with a hard R? Yeah you're all dead." Bellum clutched his head, trembling. "Ugh. What am I doing? This is insanity."
Sephyr scanned her glowing text. "Whatever these things are, they react and bless or curse us based on their approval or disapproval. Whichever outweighs the other determines what you receive."
"Yeah, I noticed," Bellum said, standing again, gripping both cursed katanas. "It's still confusing. And I don't like my life being toyed with. It's been like that since I was a kid. Screw this. Let's use these weapons and get out of here."
Light shimmered beside him, Sephyr summoned a gold and light brown elven rapier, carved with curling floral designs, the guard shaped like interwoven branches, the blade gleaming like sunlight through autumn leaves. She raised it lightly. "Let's leave, please. I cannot bear to sit in confinement like this."
"That's fine by me," Bellum muttered, cracking his neck. He forced a grin on his face, trying to forget the dire and confusing situation he was in. "This'll be easy! I'm not new to fighting anyway."
Vaxan, Bran, Sephyr, and dozens of others, each now armed with their cursed or radiant weapons. They turned toward Bellum as the entire fleshy chamber rumbled violently once more. Roars outside grew louder, and something massive slammed into the structure containing them.
The battle outside was getting closer, as close as Bellum and the others were getting to leaving.