In the Maelstrom's Embrace

Originally written from April 19, 2023 to May 24, 2023 

Prompt
Chapter 1
Peter, a young man with a warm face like straw hay, embarked on a journey to a cave to defeat a troll alongside three snarky but teasing goblins. They each showed good faith in expressing themselves since they knew each other very well. They had gone through a lot during their time together, and Peter was shaping up to be some kind of politician or leader. However, at the moment, he wanted to endanger himself by fighting with a troll due to the fact that he could grow stronger this way. Tired of being weak, he wanted to take responsibility and accountability for being so frail. He only had his fists and some magical spellbooks. He had lost a great power that he used to have. He felt saddened at the thought.

The goblins had similar motivations of yearning for experience, although they loved familial bonds more than anything, which was why they came with Peter, treating him as their own.

When they were talking loudly at entry of a cave, their footsteps had similarly high volume.

The black tunnel led to hundreds of pathways, but Peter already had one in mind.

Three left, six right, and two straight. Of course, pathways often offered more than just two, but Peter knew which left he was taking and which right.

The troll was standing quietly in the corner, analyzing a cog wheel. A human cadaver was attached to the wall like game meat.

Peter was shocked; it was his first time seeing a dead human.

Two arrows flew at Peter from the walls, part of a trap design that the troll set a long time ago.

The troll turned around and charged at Peter, grabbing a spear as it did so.

He slashed Peter.

Peter fell backward and crashed to the ground.

The goblins blocked the troll's next slash.

But the troll slashed from a different angle, causing the already stunned goblins to fly sideways.

As the goblins flew, Peter began to take charge, grabbing the shield he had hidden and aiming it at the troll.

The troll was convinced Peter was bluffing, but he angled himself to the side in case it needed to dodge.

Peter whispered a spell, as loud sounds burst from his shield along with fiery particles of light. 

These particles stabbed the troll all over.

The troll healed itself and stabbed at Peter's neck.

Peter was surprised when the goblins pulled him backwards.

The troll threw two more slashes in a combo before the goblins leapt to dodge.

The troll was quick, casting a spell that halted the goblins midway before slashing at them.

The goblins cast a magical shield that blocked the troll's attacks.

One of the goblins cast a stealing spell that stole the troll's left gauntlet.

Due to the risky nature of his swinging, the troll stumbled somewhat when he felt his gravity shift due to his gauntlet's loss.

The goblins kept stabbed at the troll with their blades.

The troll flinched backward at each new wound.

Once Peter regained his senses, he grabbed his shield with spikes and pressed it against the troll's belly.

The troll fell backward, its head spinning in nausea.

When it gained a toehold over its senses, it snapped its fingers, which in turn triggered ten arrows from the ceiling.

The arrows shot Peter and the goblins one by one, taking them off guard.

Peter and the goblins fell to the ground, shifting in pain when they lay.

The troll used the energy he had saved to dash.

Peter and the goblins had prepared a hidden attack.

A potion flew in a curve and struck the troll on the nose, leaving the troll surprised. It came from behind the troll.

It began to take effect, causing the troll's tissues to fall away.

In agony, the troll lunged backwards, shifting in place.

Peter smirked.

Chapter 2
Peter's prolonged exposure to the sun for over three hours resulted in impaired immune function, increased pain sensitivity, and impaired cognitive performance.

He felt like he had been sleeping less than 7 hours for several months.

"I can't think straight. Everything is so fuzzy. I feel like I'm floating. Like I'm on a cloud. But it's not a good feeling. It's like I'm stuck in a dream. A nightmare. I keep seeing things that aren't there. Shapes. Colors. And they keep changing. Morphing into something else. I can't tell what's real and what's not. I can't focus. It's like my brain is melting. Dripping down my ears. I need help. I need water. And I need to get out of this sun."

Peter's head ached like a hammer was banging against his skull. 

His legs felt like they lay on pricks and needles like goblins shouted and stabbed him from below. 

He had the air to cry out, but the force of a mighty dragon seemed to restrict his throat from sending help. 

His ears felt like they were submerged in the sand of the desert under the blistering heat. 

His throat seemed to feel flood upon flood of ants chipping through its tissues. 

The skin under his shoulder felt like the tip of the teeth of dholes slid up and down against them.

Peter had thick, cold-weather clothes on, yet which worsened his affliction.

His voice was frail like a dying dhole. “It’s so hot,” he slurred. 

The fresh blood of unicorns seemed to paste against his bleeding lips, fitting in their microscopic gaps. 

His throat was parched, as if it housed the sun's rays. 

His shoulders were burned, as if a bunch of smiling faces chopped him up with axes. 

Breathing fast, his emotions and senses seemed to mix with the physical sensations of dirt.

The smell of the heat and cooked mud surrounding him made his nostrils enlargen briefly.

He glacially raised a leg and used it to move himself forward toward a tree.

When his leg gave out, he knitted his brows, feeling that this tree grew five times farther.

Strategically, he repeated a thought to numb his mind and get his blood flowing to his leg instead.

He crawled, inch by inch like a snail, but his life was on the line, which made his inching that much more terrifying to experience.

His buttocks dragged against the ground, hearing the muffled sound of his clothes getting dirty.

He stopped moving his leg, frustrated and feeling stuporous. He blinked several times and glanced around to regenerate thinking and get rid of this stupor.

He began to crawl again, letting out a faint groan as if he was speaking to himself from 100 meters away.

He crawled, and the movement of the sun above felt faster than him. He stopped, studying the shape of the clouds for a few seconds.

He dismissed this study and raised his leg again, but this leg went too high up, straining his weakened muscles. He whimpered.

He gritted his teeth, growing anxious.

He raised his other leg and moved it; however, it fell flat on the ground like a twig. His face moved in an twisted expression of anxiety.

He pressed his first leg against the ground, his shoe feeling like a prison cell.

He stopped.

The heat halted his thoughts, and he forgot his plan to escape this heat.

He remembered a few seconds later and moved again and again in the course of thirty minutes.

He escaped the heat. He took a deep breath to generate more blood flow to his stunned brain before sighing softly in relief. He despised the agony before the calm.

After seven minutes of regaining an infinitesimal portion of his thinking ability, he said "Ahh" to test his voice since his voice failed to come out earlier.

He tilted his head and fell to the ground, hitting his head and succumbing to exhaustion.

He woke up 5 hours later. He entered into a loop, where every time he decided to make a thought, he forgot this thought a second later.

This loop kept recurring.

He grabbed his face and squeezed it in a fluid mix of distress and loss.

Feeling weak, he had woken up a few minutes ago and had been regaining clarity of mind. Also, the sun and weather was tropically hot and had been beating down on his body.

He was experiencing a heat stroke.

He crouched on his feet, and because he was barefoot, he groaned, lying down again.

He crawled under the shade of a tree and sighed out of relief. Some of the debris in his mind cleared, allowing him to understand.

His heart pounded against his chest.

Looking around, he grasped his stomach churning. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, which removed more of the debris in his mind. This made him remember a saying: “A person could be anything. A weak calf, a strong boar, or a car as fast as lightning.” In this situation, he felt like the weak calf.

After staring at one of the trees and discovering its towering height relative to him, he changed his mind.

The weak calf was stronger.

Looking for a silver lining, he turned his head toward the tree he rested on. The food-like texture of the bark of the tree made him realize that his hunger was causing his stomach to churn. He opened his mouth and made an eating motion, hoping to feel the thickness and density of a sandwich.

Hungry and desperate, he stood up on tiptoe and analyzed the tree-dotted, and muddy hillside ahead of him. He examined every inch of the terrain as he searched for any sign of food or sustenance. Time seemed to stretch while his stomach rumbled and throbbed with discomfort and his parched eyes hurt.

He retraced his steps and looked at the details of his sparse forest surroundings. “Wait a minute,” he mouthed.

He put the black dots in his head and view side by side.

Starving and extremely thirsty, his beaten-down brain realized that he was supposed to be at home.

Moving generated heat.

Since he was standing, a valley breeze enlightened him with the sweet smell of refreshment.

However, since his legs, back, and waist hurt, he threw his body down, rested his hips, and shut movement off to maintain his body temperature and turn his mind into a peaceful boat in the sea of consciousness.

He focused on his breath.

He sniffed air oxygen into the nadirs of his lung capacities and angrily exhaled slowly. Gradually, his heart listened to him, floating his muscles into ease. With each gulp of a breath, his mind tenuously touched freedom. The noise and chaos of the days scattered like a bunch of kids. The minutes struck ever briskly. He sniffed his energy reentering his mind and soul and spirit. A sense of calm slapped him into a sense of release.

Finally, he opened his eyes, feeling thrilled. He had been lying in the sun for a very long time, which explained why he felt so weak and faint.

He made a guess that he had been lying down for an hour.

He wondered how he got here from his hotel room. He contemplated where he was really. He thought about where to get food and shelter since this was an emergency.

Searching for answers, he took heavy steps around, a wanderer running on low fuel.

He struggled with himself to get his feeble body to run.

His cold-weather clothes were full of sweat. He removed them one by one and entangled most of them around his right arm and the rest tensely along his left shoulder.

The singing of birds hit him. Pleased he stared and discovered their presence. The birds were of the species of magpie robins.

His mouth was open.

His eyes were peeled. He remembered that he had thought so negatively toward the long-tailed titmice.

His thrilling present had helped him separate from his boring past; he learned that he had projected his fear of boredom toward the titmice.

Since he was calmer than when he woke up, his fight-or-flight response disappeared into a faint smack in the wind.

This returned his fear and capacity to grasp pain, making him stop to consider his plight.

Knowing his normal nervousness, he gritted his teeth in frustration and sat down.

He attempted to meditate once and failed. He attempted to meditate again, only feeling the pain of heat and a headache. He failed.

He stood up and forced deep breaths into the air, pressing his lips together with an exasperated expression. He blinked hard and grabbed the sides of his head. “I need to be calm,” he said.

While repeating this mantra, he closed his eyes and lay down. Dipterocarps, acacias, and other broad-leaved tree species and ferns, vines, and shrubs surrounded him like a roll cloud from all sides.

His heatstroke had wound up fortunately, but the lingering stress had impaired his confidence.

A cold, ferocious stare had replaced his pinched face. His sleep had been light, and his alert senses had only been growing sharper. His eased mind had been picturing a plan built on quick action. His measured breath hinted that he was ready for it.

Despite his many pains, he stood up with a forced grin, revealing his teeth.

A group of dholes, wild dogs that belonged to the forest, sighted him, out of his sight. Peter trudged around with a confident gait. To trap him, the dholes dashed sideways around him along the edges of a large arc within which thousands of trees stood. While in deep thought, Peter fell to the ground and cried in a loud voice. Despite the dholes being out of sight, they hesitated.

Peter was pretending to cry in an attempt to get in touch with his emotions and understand his reality better. He was ignorant of the dholes' presence.

After realizing he was crying, the dholes continued their plan of attack with greater speed and dispersed.

Peter was ignorant of the dholes. 

In the meantime, he forced a smile, but as he realized his resilience, his smile turned genuine. “I’m a great guy!”

He chuckled with a hint of nervousness. He remembered the terrifying feeling of the omnipresence of the sun and the towering trees from a while ago.

The dholes broke out from nearby bushes.

Peter’s nervousness shifted to a growing terror, dropping the clothes he was carrying.

“No, no, no!” He screamed and wailed, running off into the distance.

The dholes had surrounded him.

Peter cried, considering his two hands and 10 fingers. He grabbed a rock and threw it at the dholes.

The dholes took a step backward, as the rock hit the ground. Nonetheless, their fierce glares only grew fiercer, seeming to carry a hint of mockery. They carefully and slowly took their positions in order to find accuracy when they leapt all at once.

Peter gasped and grabbed two more stones. He felt the vibration of the stones against the tips of his fingers. He found peace of mind.

He threw a stone with great accuracy. From his clear mind, he had found his aim.

The stone fell upon the great eye of a dhole, turning it into a screaming puppet under Peter’s control.

The dholes scattered momentarily to dodge, but they regained their predatory gaits and leapt simultaneously.

Peter loosened his posture, his brows raised. He moved as if in a dance to the left.

The dholes turned their heads and torsos while leaping. This made them bump each other and fall.

When they hit the ground, they found that their strength had waned.

Dashing around to avoid the dholes, Peter threw rocks like a turret.

His breaths were weighty like an avalanche.

Meanwhile, he began to slam the rocks against each other, belligerently roaring.

As the dholes got pummelled one by one, getting a taste of potential death, they emitted a green glow from their paws to heal themselves, but it made them clearer targets.

In front of the dholes, Peter put a hand over his ear as if trying to get a better listen of something.

However, Peter was vigilant, throwing rocks continuously. 

Peter panted with a growing smile while the dholes struggled to arrange themselves under fire.

Seeing the last dholes lying on the ground, he picked up his clothes from the ground and booked his way out of there.

His mudded shoes made gains on the ground, striking the dirt until the back of his legs began to grow wet.

After exiting the area, he felt that his reaction toward the dholes were strange and a little off-putting. He found out that he had regret, grasping his forehead in an attempt to cover his shame.

He was a human being after all. "How could I be so horrible?" he said. His voice was growing weaker as the day went on. It was currently noon, and his voice could only struggle to deal with the dehydration he was experiencing. He wanted a way to exit his body and enter into a virtual, mental world where his imaginations ran free, where the only thing he had to concern himself with was the tending of virtual plants and trees, those which only needed a graphical button to press in order to take care of them.

After ending his thoughts abruptly, he found that he had accidentally pricked the side of his head with his nails. He ignored this pain, focusing on balancing himself amid the headache.

The pain had a way of calming him down in part due to the fact that he had almost died. A pain from a prick was much lesser a punishment compared to the dholes killing him. He sighed, his wet eyes beginning to shine. He even forced a guffaw.

It was relief that he was feeling.

He was finally free.

While his mind cleared up, he turned around to gaze at the new world in front of him.

“I wish to be your helper,” a dhole appeared out of nowhere, trotted sideways stylishly to Peter, and whispered with a human voice.

Peter's shocked expression slowly became pinched.

“You can get the hell away from me!” He backed away while hyperventilating, terrified.

The dhole watched him leave.

When Peter found a hiding place, he found himself thinking feverishly.

"What's going on? A talking dog... No. I just killed dogs in the forest. Dogs don't talk. I... I... can't think at all..." He sounded apprehensive.

He realized that he felt that the stable connection of this world being earth was still intact.

But it began to break.

“A talking dog?” he thought. "Wild dog... dhole..."

He cocked his head around in a bid to ensure he could defend himself in case the dhole leapt from the sky.

"Argh..." He instinctively almost shouted after convincing himself that the dhole was actually leaping in the air. He was that scared.

He turned his head, realizing that this was a nonsensical belief. His mind was too much in shock to avoid having delusions.

"No, no, I must focus."

After an hour of silence, staring, and blinking rapidly, he felt that this place was different from Earth. He shook his head, wanting to deny it. However, this feeling persisted.

"The sweat is soaking my pants. Ugh..." He tried to cover his mouth, but his back, shoulders, and palms were aching. He needed to move. He had experienced cramps several times earlier, but he braved it, only shaking his head and gritting his teeth to deal with them. That he was a strong warrior he said many times.

The talking dhole’s voice echoed from what seemed like everywhere, “I should tell you I and my helpers have prepared dinner for you.”

Peter wanted to punch something out of frustration and confusion. He was full of complaints, but he was strong, maintaining that persona that he had taken care of for so long until now.

The dhole's voice grew sorrowful. “It’s been an hour already.”

Peter felt that his head became loud with his burst of anger. It was all thoughts, but they were heavily deleterious.

He responded albeit with an accidental voice crack, “Okay!”

Closing his eyes and taking deep pursed-lip breaths did the trick, for his heart became less frantic.

The dhole wanted to show courtesy. "I understand that this is all very overwhelming for you, but I want you to know that you are safe here with me. Take some time to breathe and collect your thoughts." He giggled before stopping himself. He had pleasures and concerns of his own that he was thinking of unrelated to the current conversation.

Like magic, a smile appeared on Peter’s face.

“Okay.” His voice had the sudden reveal of trust and calm. He was too tired and broken physically. He needed a break, and when he found out someone out there had the means and the intentions to help him, he was happy to comply and take advantage.

The image of a dhole gripped his heart though, making it pound with terror.

The near death he had experienced was still real to him emotionally. He was just good at hiding much of his emotions, but time was ticking. He needed to leave with the dhole and restore his health and get some sleep to rid himself of his bodily trembling. His stress was reaching overload levels.

A long silence followed, which made the dhole raise a brow, giving Peter a chance to sort his words.

“I killed someone.” Peter’s face twitched.

He felt confused toward his burst of honesty. “W-what should I do?”

He began to cry, his voice sounding like a horse. “I murdered them!” He cursed himself for speaking so vehemently.

He struck his hip. “I-I don’t know what to do!” He wondered why he was being so truthful, removing all the playing cards he had set in order.

Within short order, he gritted his teeth and stared at the sky with a puppy whimper.

“I’m not a monster,” he whispered. “I’m, I’m just a human.” His face grew twisted with grief.

He forced a smile, tears dripping down to his shirt. “I can’t... I can’t...”

His hands against his chest, he looked in the direction of the dhole. “And you’re a dog. Seriously.”

The dhole was thinking about how the princes would think about the human. 

He suspected that the human was fairly reasonable and had an emotional capacity rarerly observed among goblins. 

He analyzed that he was a potential focal subject for goblins. He determined that most likely, he would return home anyway after a while.

He was sure that the chances of human conflict was infinitesimal, but he would make observations and show certain behaviors to gauge his reactions. He would let the human take charge if he showed any intention of doing so. He trusted that the human was powerful and hid many abilities and spells like the rest. All the humans who lived among the dholes were powerful, so his decision to break the ice and be the first one to contact the human felt sound to him. He was acting collaboritvely under a matric structure anyway; although, he was that leader. His thoughts were immediately trashed in favor of engaging the human directly.

The dhole had raised its brows and looked downward while heeding Peter's words.

He concluded his thoughts earlier by declaring that the human was "one whole riveting soul."

Out loud, he said: “I understand that you're going through a difficult time, but know that I'm here to support you. It's important that you seek help and talk to someone about what happened. You don't have to go through this alone. Let me help you find helpers who can guide you through this."

Peter grabbed a branch beside him. “Should I come down?” He had been hiding on a tree.

This time, the dhole placed a commanding tone on his voice. "That's up to you, Peter. If you feel comfortable coming down and talking more, I'm here to listen. But if you need more time to collect your thoughts, that's okay too."

Peter felt that he was asking a difficult question. “Why can you talk?” He went down.

With a shocked expression, the dhole felt guarded. “That question really reminds me of people who suck, you know?”

Peter wiped his tears. “Yeah, ah, my bad. My bad.” He sniffled and rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, I’m sorry.”

The dhole felt that Peter’s repetitiveness was a hallmark of honesty. “Okay then!” 

Feeling his breath flow continuously, he smiled awkwardly.

An agreement between their moods allowed a moment of silence.

They used this moment to begin their departure together.

“Can I be honest with you?” Peter had a distant wandering tone. “I killed dholes, not people, but still they are people. He got a whiff of the dhole’s scent like earthy, musky sweat with a slightly sweet undertone like fruit.

“People. I did it, and when I did it, I was excited and it made me feel good.

“But it did not make me feel alive the way I do now.

“My humanity defines me and makes me complete.

“I cannot bear to live like that.

“I’d rather die than be the horrible man.”

His tone turned direct.

“If anyone thinks I am horrible, let them kill me and let that be justice.”

The dhole had nodded several times, almost voicing out an agreement. He wondered how long the human was going to talk endlessly about the most nonsensical things. He had a very quick judgment when it came to lies, but he could tell that the human was talking truthfully even when he was spouting gibberish. He recognized that important question: "What does the human have to show for himself?"

In reality, he was fullly disagreeing about Peter's ideas, especially that it should be allowed for people to kill him if he was horrible.

The dhole recognized it was better if other humans made him change his ways. Humans were powerful, and they had the mind for it. Wasting such a great wonder would be demoralizing.

Peter’s statement took on a steel-faced demeanor after his initial momentary state of discouragement. When the dhole saw it, he noted that this demeanor was one of a more powerful drive which potentiated violence possibly.

A reflective expression filled Peter's face. “You said there was dinner?

“And I remember you saying ‘helpers’?

“You have helpers of your own, you mean?

Amid the dhole's secret reflection, Peter had taken a direct and assertive stance, arming himself with a bearing of strength and self-esteem. It was almost like watching a man imitate the strongest in order to douse himself with a only a tad bit of what he could become if he tried harder.

The dhole nodded abruptly, gradually bowing his head in a gesture of humility, allowing Peter to take the lead and shine in the conversation.

Before the dhole was able to reveal his respect, Peter's expression glowed, and his posture began to take on a more grandiose form.

The dhole was sure that if a stone fell and struck Peter to show a giant’s fall, the impression of arrogance would be perfect.

As soon as Peter’s hands glowed, the dhole got a good look.

Peter tilted his head toward the dhole. “What is this?”

The dhole was confused, but he quiickly replied: “You got them remember. Your hands did it, and so you’re being rewarded for it.”

Peter recognized that he was referring to the dholes he had slain.

Peter frowned to restrain himself. “I don’t remember.”

He wanted to joke about the death of the dholes, but he felt compelled to see it as detracting from the seriousness of death. He was exhausted, and his attempt to speed up the conversational process didn't look pretty.

He said, “Killing the dholes did this?”

The dhole nodded, his eyes feigning neutrality hinting at a world of knowledge that awaited Peter.

Peter reached upward to press his forehead. “Why... What is this? A reward? What kind?”

Acting patiently, the dhole showered Peter with tiny nods. “The glow is indeed a sign that you’re growing in magical power. You fighting dholes does challenge the spirit.”

“W-what is my spirit?” Peter was scared that a lack of curiosity led to death.

“It’s where your magical power is stored.” The dhole raised its brows lightly, starting to think that Peter was lying to him.

“Magic?” Peter blinked hard several times out of shock. “Sorry, something in my eye,” he lied.

The dhole squinted and waited, his lips fluctuating between expressions.

This made Peter realize that the dhole was confused and would likely ask if he was ignorant about “magic” and a “spirit.”

Peter looked away out of awkwardness, hoping the dhole would speak first, but after a while, he was the one to speak, “What?”

The dhole raised its paw as a gesture of inquiry. “Do you not know what I’m talking about? Your body language tells me this.” He was losing touch with his plans and began to improvise, yet his confusion was evident.

“I didn't understand.” Peter nodded slowly as if realizing it himself.

“Okay, good. Thank you for telling me.” The dhole obviously had much to say, but in the end, a few words did the job for him.

Peter decided against asking anymore.

Standing In front of a table filled with lavish food, he slowly realized that he was finally going to eat the dinner he wanted to eat before he came here.

However, he showed apprehension, which the dhole asked about.

Peter smiled nervously. "I don't know what's going on."

The dhole's expression twitched in surprise while Peter was gazing at him.

In the meantime, while Peter and the dhole were staring at one another, a group of dholes surrounding the table waved their paws as a welcoming gesture.

Despite the evident friendliness, their numbers had made Peter realize that he would lose if they decided to fight one-vs-all.

Peter wanted to laugh out of shame for even thinking he could do a thing; instead, he grinned, revealing his white teeth.

For a moment, he struggled to move his arms, but while he was thinking, he determined the relative superiority of height between the coming dholes and himself. He felt forced, but he waved back, seemingly happy all the way.

Chapter 3
"One, two," Peter mouthed.

The dhole beside him, Callous, was already starting to guess Peter's true nature. He recognized that Peter really was ignorant about his surroundings and the world around him.

In order to take advantage, Callous contacted the dholes beforehand to pretend that this was their first time meeting.

As two dholes trotted sideways toward them, Peter realized that he could tell all the dholes apart. A smile formed in his eyes, feeling inspired.

Peter stooped to match their height, leaving them dumbfounded. Peter thought that it would be great if the dholes could reach a point of looking eye-to-eye with him.

Before two dholes opened their mouths, Calloud interrupted them with a raised paw.

He hardened his voice because he was going to introduce himself finally. He decided that the weight of his name had to be clear and accompanied by a strong expression and a fitting silencing act. 

The two other dholes introduced themselves, each with curious, relaxed expressions. “I am John.”

“And I am Matthew.” They showed mixed expressions, giving Callous the meaningful eye here and there.

Callous showed firmness in his demeanor, only glancing at them once as if they were acquaintances.

When Peter showed interest in Callous' reaction, Callous began to knit his brows and raise a finger to his chin as a gesture of thought. “Hmm...”

His knitted brows and gesture were a pretense, as he had deliberately paused to see Peter’s reactions.

Peter glanced left and then right. His voice was quiet, but he did make a sound, "Wow." He was still in disbelief concerning the dholes. The magical nature of animals speaking what he deemed human language excited him.

While Peter delved into his impressions of the dholes, Callous turned elsewhere to the rest of the dholes at the table. “Eat. The food’s already cold.”

Matthew's expectations of the human showing magic was frustrated.

Politeness was a characteristic that John possessed, obviating the possibility of offending such humans. However, he had a frail body, which was currently sore. Rest would prepare for his coming special event.

In the meantime, Peter straightened his back, having realized that Callous was talking to the other dholes.

When Peter's eyes regained vigilance, the dholes sat down at the tables and showed a willingness to eat.

“You can go ahead and remove the names ‘John’ and ‘Matthew.’ Use Helper 1 and Helper 2,” Callous said in a louder voice than normal.

However, his demeanor and voice only conveyed friendliness and assertiveness.

Peter kept glancing at Callous.

Matthew and John slowly shook their heads with surprise, having heard Callous.

When Callous' steeled eyes flew across them, John began to yawn out of politeness and give the impression that he was submitting. "Okay," he said with a drawl.

Matthew kept tapping his hands on the table in front of him, as if he was tap dancing.

John was trying to relax while standing up, adjusting his posture several times, with a polite smile and sleepy eyes.

Seeing John look so calm made Peter knit his brows out of a sense of discord.

"Do you guys seriously don't have anything to say about what you just did?" he said slowly to prevent overload. It was confusion that he was feeling, but he made it sound as if he was thanking them for the food, which he partially was. But he was partially frustrated with the weird interactions in front of him. Their behavior did not befit a dog. They befitted a human being with various complex expressions of thought, subsystems within primary systems that only sought to choke him out of his daylight. He wanted answers, not these weird piles of messy human-like tissue flesh. He wanted to engage with something that made sense. 

He was from Earth.

Sitting further way, Callous still listened and only nodded as a placating gesture.

John glanced at Callous, half-closing his eyes and leaving everything to him.

Soothing himself, Matthew was clasping and stretching his paws which he had raised in front of him as a blocking gesture. He felt talking to humans were challenging and tough to navigate.

John was facing Callous. “Yes, I understand." and turned its head to Peter. “Forget what we said earlier.” His sleepy body was starting to feel like mush.

He glanced between Peter and Matthew. “Address us as Helper 1 and Helper 2. I am the former.” His voice trailed off.

John became Helper 1, and Matthew became Helper 2.

Peter's face immediately scrunched up, somewhat exaggerating his confusion. Yet, when he saw Callous' overhead gaze, he cleared the emotions visible on his face.

Helper 1 glanced at Helper 2.

He wondered how he was reacting to Peter since Helper 2 was the strongest among them.

Helper 2 stepped away, looking at the other dholes eating.

He had a stiff way of carrying himself.

Callous had remained stoic, focused on Peter's expressions and body language, and Helper 1 had remained casual, trying to keep his tiredness to himself.

Several expectant glances from Helper 2 swept toward Callous and Helper 1 as a gesture for them to guide his next words and actions.

Disappointed, Helper 2 followed Callous and Helper 1’s eyes toward Peter.

Peter seemed to smile confidently. Helper 2 felt a surge of new tension.

Helper 1 aimed his polite smile toward Helper 2 and said in a rewarding tone, “Okay.”

He acknowledged Helper 2’s efforts.

“Helper 1,” Peter confirmed.

His voice was distant, seeming pensive, and his head faced away from the dholes.

Helper 1 looked straight up and rubbed the sides of his mouth in brief thought.

He was promoting a casual and friendly atmosphere by allowing himself to display these usual mannerisms, rather than being excessively polite and formal.

"Yes," Helper 1 said, giving a knowing smile. "And who is he?" He gestured to Helper 2. He had a teaching voice with undertones of a philosophical and spiritual nature. Furthermore, he wanted to gauge Peter's willingness by learning whether he paid attention during the reintroduction.

Helper 1 gave Helper 2 a nod and a stare, those which conveyed that he wanted him to play along with Peter's introduction.

Helper 2 agreed with this want, forcing a grin towards Peter and revealing his teeth.

“I don’t understand why we’re doing this,” Peter said, returning his gaze at the dholes. Helper 1 and Helper 2's smiles made Peter smile.

“One whole Helper 2, yes,” said Helper 2 in a spiritual, concluding tone, ignoring Peter.

Peter said in a louder voice, “Why are we doing this?”

Callous interjected to Helper 1, “Oh, that’s right.”

The dholes ignored Peter's question.

Helper 1 smiled at Callous through his eyes before returning to his dull tired expression.

Peter raised a hand commandingly, closing it in hesitation. “Hey,” he emphasized, “I want to know why you guys are changing names all of a sudden.”

His voice had been growing anxious.

Callous nodded surely. “Later,” he gave a nonanswer.

His tone switched as he turned toward Helper 1. “Oh, that’s right.”

He was responding to Helper 1’s mention of “One whole Helper 2”. Helper 1 gave him an acknowledging smile. Meanwhile, Peter raised his brow and waited.

Callous noticed Peter’s stone-faced, steady gaze, feeling that Peter was gratuitously argumentative.

“If you don’t want to explain then—” Peter said, stopped himself, and tilted his head away, becoming disengaged. He silently took a prolonged, deep breath. “Right,” he said in a disappointed tone, borrowing Callous’ mention of “right,” his voice fading.

“Are you hungry?” Helper 2 asked in a detached tone, hoping for Peter to say “yes.”

“Help Peter,” Callous told Helper 1 and Helper 2 and gestured to the food. He had moved behind Helper 1 and Helper 2 and was staring at their backs.

Peter suppressed himself from raising a brow, feeling like Callous would block a punch out of nowhere from how observant he was.

Helper 2 and Helper 1 accompanied Peter to the table where the rest of the dholes were eating. They helped Peter get food and water.

“Finally,” Helper 2 said, opened his mouth, ate, and burped loudly. Helper 1 smiled at him. Helper 2 smiled back. “Excuse me,” Helper 2 said. His muzzle bumped some food off the table. He raised his brows like a domestic dog and adjusted his posture. “Opps.” He forced a smile. The other dholes at the table saw this and looked around, finding the dropped food on the ground. They gave him detached, disapproving glances.

After Helper 2 was halfway through finishing his food, Callous sat down and began to eat. He gave some of his food to Helper 1.

The dholes at the table ate their food silently, with only the sound of chewing breaking the quiet of the room.

Relaxed after he had finished his food, Helper 1 saw that Peter and Callous finished their food. He glanced between them respectfully. “Anyways, Callous, tell Peter about my time as a young dhole.” He was whispering.

Callous nodded and was also whispering. “When he was young, he was a powerful hunter, but now he’s forgotten what made him strong in the first place.”

“It’s tragic,” Helper 1 said and laughed.

Peter was concerned. “What happened?” He spoke at a louder volume. When he realized this, he glanced at the other dholes who were staring at him and bowed his head in apology.

One of the other dholes sitting at the table waved her paw toward Peter. Peter noticed this and raised his brows. The dhole smiled, and Peter smiled back. The dhole showed her hand, and her left paw began to glow. Peter widened his eyes, gave a thumbs-up, and smiled. The dhole looked confused for a moment, but Peter’s smile made her believe his thumbs-up gesture was positive. She raised her hand, glancing between her glowing paw and Peter. Peter nodded in anticipation. A ball of light appeared and shot from her glowing paw to the sky. This ball was so fast it disappeared after a few seconds. Peter dropped his jaw and covered his mouth. When the dhole turned her head to check his reaction, Peter nodded happily and gave a thumbs-up. The dhole nodded slowly, her eyes darting around in reflection. Peter saw this as a concluding gesture and looked away.

This dhole left the table to a lonely stretch of hills with steep hillsides that had dark-colored and volcanic rocks. Natural, horizontal caves and submerged, vertical caves also occurred in some of these hillsides.

Meanwhile, at the table, Helper 2 was mutedly clapping his hands together in a droning rhythm. He broke this rhythm several times in musical prowess. As Helper 2 continued his rhythmic clapping, Peter could feel his initial nervousness dissipating. He straightened his back, lifted his chin, and ran his fingers through his hair in a confident gesture. He caught the eye of a few other dholes at the table and offered them a small smile, feeling at ease and self-assured in his grooming behavior. Meanwhile, Helper 1 was touching paws with several other dholes and following along with the group’s prayers. Peter’s eyes darted around to visualize the concept of dholes praying. He felt tired. Seeing that Peter had finished his conversation with the dhole with the ball of light, Callous aimed his head at Peter, showing he was pensive and nervous. Peter noticed this and showed a thoughtful demeanor.

“I injured Helper 1’s spirit and magic ability,” Callous said with a sigh. “It was my fault.”

During the long silence that followed Callous’ statement, Peter stilled his emotions. His forced expressions faded. With clarity derived from calm, he realized his face hurt after he had forced his smiles and other expressions.

After his prayer meeting ended, Helper 1 nodded with a smirk. “Yeah, that’s right. Don’t forget to give me extra food again next time we eat.” Peter looked to the sky and remembered that Callous had given some of his food to Helper 1.

Peter pressed two fingers against the side of his head briefly, interrupting himself to hide his reaction. Callous noticed this and explained in a low voice, “Two years and six months ago, I was tasked to bring him a bunch of ‘spirit fruits,’ which are needed for his magic growth. But because I felt sick for several days, I decided against doing it with my sickly mind. This caused Helper 1 to lose his magic ability since he had also become sick. The difference between me and him at the time was that I had the spirit fruits and he lacked them.”

In contrast to the strong emotions churning inside him, Peter simply nodded. He imagined the idea of bipedal dholes experiencing human lives. However, he cut this off and replaced it with an image of dholes on four legs experiencing human lives. He felt this image was more accurate.

Helper 2 stood up, breaking the silence. He ignored Peter and the dholes’ concealed, disturbed reactions, using magic to create a tree. His paws were glowing red. The dholes only stared at him with neutral expressions; however, the dholes all knew that Helper 2 was their strongest mage. They only applauded him in their heads.

Helper 2 returned to his seat, and the dholes returned to whispering, eating, and drinking.

After the dholes had finished eating, the dhole with the ball of light who had left earlier brought home a large log.

His eyes darting around, Peter discovered that the dholes cheered for the log. He knitted his brows, rubbed them with his fingers, and lowered his head.

“Hey, what’s your name?” Helper 2 said.

Peter turned his head slowly, his expression blank. “Huh?”

Patient, Helper 2 waited for Peter to realize what he said.

Peter squinted, suppressing a yawn. Exhausted, he was making an effort to determine what he should say next.

“I’m Peter.” He had yawned because Helper 2’s calm infected him. “You are Helper 2.” He was mumbling.

Peter’s mind drifted to his thoughts instead of the conversation. Despite Peter’s initial misgivings about the dholes, they had an elegant, intellectual demeanor as if they could swallow someone whole with their mental libraries of knowledge.

Peter’s tone sounded on edge. “Helper 2, huh.”

Helper 2 tilted his head as a way to deflect Peter’s tension. “Yes, I am Helper 2.” He sounded composed. “Do you have anything you want to ask me?”

Peter’s eyes gleamed, as he sighted an opportunity. He voiced out his agreement, but his voice seemed tense. He raised his brows and realized this. He apologized and corrected his tone and voice, making it gentle. “I want to know first about your relationship with Callous and Helper 1.”

Helper 1 and Callous heard Peter. They kept their backs facing Peter, but their eyes were pensive and curious.

Ignorant of Helper 1 and Callous’ interest, Peter nodded several times and looked to the sky. He had concluded that his first question was appropriate after a moment of deep thought.

A flash of a grimace appeared in Helper 2’s face. However, Peter was looking elsewhere and was ignorant of this.

Ignorant of the conversation, three new dholes interrupted it and introduced themselves to Peter. “Good day, I’m Sigurd Aslo.”

“I’m Caimin Brent.”

“I’m Shallow Curd.”

Peter gave them a perfunctory nod.

Seeing Peter’s shallow interaction with them, Sigurd, Caimin, and Shallow waited for Peter to give a better response. They were staring at Peter with deadpan expressions. Peter saw this and looked away. Peter’s mind drifted into deep thought. He realized that he had become jealous while listening to Helper 2, which explained why his voice first sounded on edge.

Sigurd, Caimin, and Shallow gave reactions, but these disappeared as soon as Peter returned his attention to them.

Peter cleared his throat softly. “I am Peter,” he said.

Sigurd, Caimin, and Shallow nodded simultaneously with polite smiles. They thought Peter emitted a manchild atmosphere.

Seeing their polite smiles, Peter felt offended. Since he had collected his thoughts and found energy, he straightened his posture and gave a strong smile. "I apologize if my earlier behavior came across as immature or childish. It was not my intention to give off that kind of vibe. I'm happy to meet you all and look forward to getting to know you better.”

Sigurd, Caimin, and Shallow nodded several times at different times, their smiles respectful. Peter saw this and gave a prompting smile.

Caimin faced Shallow, pushed his paw against him, squinted, and gave a nod. Shallow understood this.

He gave a meek smile.

He went a good distance away.

He sat on the ground.

Sigurd faced Caimin and placed his paw on his shoulder. “Let him watch at least,” he ordered. Caimin understood this was referring to Shallow and gave a terse smile. Sigurd, his eyes happy, cocked his head at Peter. “"How are you feeling today? I noticed that you seemed unwell earlier.”

Peter thought hard about what to say, afraid of repeating himself.

Beside Sigurd, Caimin sat down on the ground and gestured for Shallow to come over.

Shallow said a small “okay” and sat down beside Caimin.

Peter’s voice and demeanor gave off a meek kind of elegance that he deemed intellectual. “It wasn’t in perfect condition, that’s for sure.” He laughed with a drifting, concluding tone. Sigurd looked away to show that he was also finished. He stood up and walked away, his mind clearing. Sigurd had assumed Peter had referred to his body, had sized him up, and had become confused to learn that Peter looked physically healthy. He had concluded that Peter had referred to his mind.

Shallow and Caimin stood up and watched Sigurd leave. When Sigurd disappeared, they stared at Peter.

Peter pretended he was ignorant of their staring. He began to clear his mind by staring at the plates on the table. He mimicked the sound of clearing the throat, grimaced, and gave a strong, piercing, lingering exhale. He interrupted this sound by turning it into a melodic tune. While Peter modestly tilted his head to stretch his tense neck, he noticed Helper 2 staring at him. “What?” he said politely.

Helper 2 thought Peter seemed disappointed and took a deep inhale. “I will tell you about my relationships with Callous and Helper 1,” he said. Behind him, Callous and John stood with relaxed demeanors. Peter noticed this, and he craned his neck sideways and gestured to get their attention to greet them formally, but Callous and Helper 1 had begun a conversation a few seconds ago. Peter became tense, rubbing the back of his head.

Callous pointed at Caimin and Shallow. “Remove your names. Use ‘Helper 3’ and ‘Helper 4’ instead.”

Caimin and Shallow stood up, pressed against each other sheepishly. “All right,” Caimin said with a stone-faced expression. “But hand me 5 pesos!”

As Shallow nodded, he cocked his head at Caimin. “For what?” He returned his attention to Callous and smiled. “I want 10 pesos for my ongoing construction of a fort!”

Shallow’s giving of a reason and smile persuaded Callous, who in turn nodded and smiled. Peter saw this and relaxed.

Helper 2 half-joked, “If you invest in me, you’ll get 20% returns.”

Caimin and Shallow ignored him, each showing contemplation for their next words.

Caimin’s eyes sharpened, and his demeanor turned stone-faced. “I’m going to try wood carving.”

“Etching, then painting, then wood carving?” Confused, Shallow restrained himself from saying anymore.

Peter craned his neck to Helper 2 until he was tensely close to his face.

Helper 2 jolted and raised his brows. “Y-yes?”

When Peter felt he had Helper 2’s full attention, he smiled. “I want to invest in your thing.” He was assertive out of frustration from feeling prostrate during the past conversations. Helper 2 relaxed after he had heard “invest,” which was familiar to him. Peter retracted his body to a comfortable distance between them. His face became pinched, looking down at the ground. “I don’t know.” He glanced at Helper 2, gauging his reaction.

Helper 2 nodded. “I understand,” he said slowly, carefully. “I can ask Callous for help with that. We can get you a way to help us.” His voice became strong and excited. “And maybe... you can get money. And I’ll have an investor.” He raised his hands halfway into the air to cheer, but he stopped himself.

Peter inhaled through his nose. “That sounds good.” His eyes seemed innocent, and his expression looked amicable.

Helper 2 forced a smile and lowered his arms. He looked around himself and gestured to Callous for help, feeling he had to compensate for Peter’s vulnerability.

Peter remembered what he had seen from his peripheral view. Callous had finished the money negotiation with Caimin and Shallow and handed Caimin 5 pesos and Shallow 10 pesos. Caimin and Shallow had renamed themselves “Helper 3” and “Helper 4,” respectively. Callous had left in Sigurd’s direction and returned.

Callous saw Helper 2’s gesture and walked over to him.

“What’s the problem?” Callous had a smile toward Helper 2, but when he locked eyes with Peter, his face became blank. He had seen Peter’s innocent eyes and amicable expression and become confused, keeping his reaction in his mind. He remembered Peter’s victory posturing, slowly laughing politely.

Peter had been casually looking at Callous. Callous’ blank face had surprised him and made him cock his head and tilt his torso to direct his attention more clearly.

His eyes closed, Callous finished his laugh. When he opened them and saw Peter looking at him with rapt attention, he felt compelled to knit his brows. He was confused. “What?” he said meekly.

Peter raised his brows. Callous’ polite laugh and meek voice was outside what he knew of him. However, he calmed his expression and demeanor to give Callous a breather. He felt compelled to think. He had seen Callous show dominance toward Helper 1 and Helper 2, which he felt was at odds with his kind gentle behavior toward him when Peter had first shown vulnerability. He guessed that Callous was either lying or there were many sides to him.

“Oh, sorry,” Peter responded to Callous. “I was just thinking about something.”

Frustrated, he glanced around, his eyes passing Helper 2. He thought that Helper 2’s teeth were disgusting. He gritted his teeth briefly and mimicked the sound of clearing the throat to compose himself. He realized that he had projected his frustration onto Helper 2 with his negative thought. He felt overloaded and compelled to leave to get a breather.

When he had excused himself nicely and left, Callous yawned and said he would get his afternoon sleep.

Peter noticed the numerous rocks on the ground around him. He thought that he had ammo to use in case the dholes attacked him. But he associated these imaginary dholes only with the dholes he had killed. The dholes Callous, Helper 1, Helper 2, and the rest were people to him now. He looked at his appearance in a pond nearby. He associated his appearance with diplomacy and charisma, which were his ammo against Callous and the rest. Releasing his emotions, he broke into a toothy grin when he realized that his face still looked pleasant and approachable.

Peter assessed his thoughts. He concluded with an exploratory list of five objectives: find out more about the dholes’ histories, the special log, the prayer meeting of Helper 1, Helper 2’s purpose, and the ball of light.

Smirking, with a rock in his left hand and an open hand in his right, Peter turned around.

A dhole stood a good distance away from him. She faced sideways away from Peter, and her attention was toward the ground. However, her tone was friendly. “Can you help me disarm the dholes?”

Chapter 4
Peter raised his brows, his smirk disappearing and the rock in his hand falling to the ground.

He looked away, glancing between the ground and the dhole, nervously pacing around. “I will help you?” Peter’s mouth quivered for the first time. “I cannot help you.” He raised his hand to block the sun over his face. “No.” He tilted his head. “How?” He shook his head and closed his eyes hard. “How!” He stopped pacing, and his mouth stopped quivering. His expression frozen in a grimace, he faced and cocked his head toward the dhole, his eyes pained.

“I beg you,” the dhole said. Peter noticed the hint of desperation in her voice.

She smiled tensely. “I have a magic item that will make the dholes lose their ability to walk.”

Peter gave a confused smile and chuckle. “Okay.” He groaned exasperatedly, making an effort to stay composed. As a last resort, he threw himself into a flashback of his first day in this world and turned somber. “I remember coming here...” He widened his eyes in realization. “...only several hours ago!” He was shouting out of frustration.

The dhole made it clear she was listening by bowing to say “yes,” twisting her torso from side to side to say “no,” and gesticulating. These actions would be excessive if they were right in front of each other. However, they stood a good distance away.

A nostalgic expression formed in Peter’s face, his eyes welling up. “I thought I was still in my world, but maybe not.” He realized that at one point he felt that this world was a different one during his interactions with the dholes. “I do not know and understand anything. I used to be a god in my hotel room. Now, I’m a cleric seeking the attention of a god who doesn’t exist.”

The dhole admired his thought, her eyes shining.

Peter had found composure easily. He grinned, revealing his teeth, a malicious smile forming. “Who are you first?”

Caught off guard, the dhole froze. Her eyes gained speed as they darted around. “I am Rafter Allegiance.” She composed herself by taking a deep breath.

“Huhuhu!” Peter laughed in a strange way, catching the dhole off guard again.

The dhole grimaced.

Peter gave her a strong smile. “Details.” His eyes were sharp enough to cut a blade.

The dhole opened her mouth and stammered. “I’m with the dholes. Do you want to know how our small clique works? It’s easy. I’ll explain.”

“No, are you a big boy...” He casually picked up the rock on the ground and pressed his fingers against it, forming a circle. “Or a small boy?”

The dhole squinted out of confusion. “I am a big boy, I guess.”

Peter smiled harder. “Good. Tell me, how are you going to do it? What is this magic item?”

Sigurd stepped forward out of the bushes out of the corner of Peter’s eye.

The dhole was too confused when she saw Sigurd. She abandoned her plan of disarming the dholes and pointed at Peter with a convinced expression. “I knew you were a wicked human!”

Peter laughed, glancing at Sigurd. “You think this is funny. I’ve been interrogating you all this time, and you did not notice.” He was thinking out loud to clear his guilt in Sigurd’s presence. He turned around and sat down.

The dhole wanted to curse him out of frustration. She guessed that Peter was deliberately making her frustrated. “Okay, I’m out. Bye!” She left.

Peter groaned in a mixture of relief and joy. He evaluated his previous behavior. He had lied to the dhole about interrogating her. He had been truthful when he became vulnerable. However, he had a strength for composing himself easily. He also knew the benefits of vulnerability, so he remembered it as a strategic method.

Sigurd smiled at him, looking at him favorably. “You have performed excellently,” he said.

Peter felt suspicious, noticing the new key attached to the lanyard around Sigurd’s neck.

Sigurd repeated himself, “You have performed excellently.” He deepened his voice in emphasis. “You can now leave and get some rest."

Peter hummed his approval and felt compelled to say, “What is up with her?”

Sigurd smiled. “As a person of noble status, she may attract the attention of individuals who are interested in her or her status.” He had dodged Peter’s question, and the “individuals” he mentioned included him.

Peter sat down on the dirty ground and appeared weak, lying down in a faint manner. Sigurd turned around and left, smiling to himself like a sagely immortal wizard.

He thought about the dhole who had asked him to participate in disarming the dholes. He added her as the new sixth objective in his exploratory list.

Hours later, the dholes Callous, Sigurd, Helper 1, Helper 2, Helper 3, and Helper 4 found and woke him up. They gave him some sweet fruits and water from a pouch.

After he drank the water, absent-minded, Peter ate these fruits slowly, his eyes glazed over, his head empty, smacking his lips. These fruits had a pleasant smell similar to freshly cut wood.

Sigurd found lip smacking annoying and asked Peter to eat quietly.

While Sigurd had spoken, Peter looked at a flower. He observed the delicate features of this flower. The small white flowers, with their thin and waxy petals, formed a star-shaped bloom. At the center, a pale green or yellow tube-like structure housed the reproductive organs. The sampaguita bloomed in clusters, its long, slender stems adorned with oval-shaped, shiny leaves arranged in pairs. Its simplicity and elegance were apparent, and its sweet fragrance wafted gently in the air, beckoning him to take notice.

Sigurd’s request, coupled with the flower, filled Peter’s absent mind.

The dholes lounged beside a wooden wagon and spoke in a different language.

Peter felt a surge of discomfort when he saw the wagon beside the quadrupedal dholes, but he patiently waited for things to get clearer.

Peter fell asleep again when they picked him up and put him on a cart.

They traveled for hours and dragged a cart with Peter along a paved road to the top of a hill. The sun had been beating down on Peter. The dholes had forgotten to bring a cover.

It was past midnight when Peter woke up beside Helper 3, whose name was previously “Caimen.” While he helped him stand up, Helper 3 glanced between Peter and a wild treant far off in the distance, gesturing for Peter to look.

The treant was almost 3 times taller than the surrounding trees. Its slim arms were twice as long as the trees were tall.

Peter cowered, and his heart pounded. He had been in the sun for a long time. His head was loud.

The sound of booms each time the treant took a step made Peter sweat profusely.

Peter rubbed his mouth, covering it. “Hey, hey, hey, we should leave!” he said.

Sigurd nodded toward Peter several times. “It may be worth attempting, as there is little risk involved.” he said. Peter’s face lit up.

Meanwhile, a happy smile formed in Callous’ face, one with a seeming hint of disappointment. “No, we’re treant-gazing,” he said.

Sigurd’s face turned solemn. “Did you misunderstand me?” he told Peter. “I meant let’s just stay here and wait for the treant.”

Peter clasped his hands together tensely. The memory of the dholes speaking a different language flashed through his mind, leaving him more confused.

Peter felt like he could curse Callous everyday as a pastime activity. His voice was loud. “Why not? And what the hell is a treant supposed to be?” His voice had been growing calmer. “I know what a treant is already. Let’s go.”

He was desperate and hurling assumptions left and right.

He had guessed they were here to show him what a treant was.

The treant had walked over to them. It overshadowed them. Peter felt like he was going to die.

“We ask for your guidance again,” said Helper 1. “With magic, guide me!”

He was screaming with a vulnerable expression.

Peter looked confused briefly, but he thought hard.

He remembered that Helper 1 had lost his magic ability.

Trembling, Peter turned his gaze from Helper 1 to the treant. He was curious and terrified about its response.

Peter rummaged through his mind. He had forgotten the objectives of his exploratory list.

He pressed his lips together and huffed.

The treant turned around to leave.

“No, no, no!” Helper 1 gesticulated wildly and said.

“Wait, wait, wait!”

After it took its first step, a small
from the treant flew down to Helper 1.

Helper 1 grinned, revealing his teeth. “Yeah!”

He was yelling madly.

Peter’s palms became sweaty, and his lips became injured from his lip-biting.

Helper 1’s behavior was so different from before.

Images of the dholes and their many sides flooded Peter's mind, leaving him feeling confused and frustrated. He had been vulnerable to Callous, who had started off kind and gentle but then became dominant and intimidating toward his peers. When he saw another dhole exhibiting this sudden switching of character, he assumed that it was because they, too, had many different sides. This realization left him feeling frustrated. He had seen the treant overshadowing him and felt panicked and prostrate. Him being in the sun for a long time had left him irritable and aggressive. However, amid his brief self-awareness, he became overwhelmed. His emotions boiled over into tears.

After Helper 1 had grabbed the small star, the dholes backed away from him and stopped surrounding him. They watched him in silence, standing like statues. They had ignored Peter.

With the star as his source of power, Helper 1 raised his paw and shot a blast of magic from his palm. Peter’s composure returned, and he backed away as well.

“Helper 2, Helper 3, Helper 4, Callous, Sigurd, “ Helper 1 said. This made Peter wonder, and he realized that Callous had been renaming the dholes only since he had met the dholes and Peter had been ignoring this amid his other concerns.

Peter scanned the dholes.

Helper 2 chuckled vaguely. “You finally got it! Congratulations.”

Helper 3 was laughing so hard he stooped. “I see, I see now. You’re going to do it right?”

Callous was smiling with a lowered head.

Helper 4, whose name was previously “Shallow,” was coughing, falling to the ground. He smiled as he passed away.

Helper 1 pointed his hand toward Helper 4’s body. “Let’s do it again, my friend.”

Sigurd stood genially silent and still, which made Peter stare for a few seconds.

Helper 1’s appearance changed. Peter saw within this a mixture of Helper 4’s appearance and Helper 1’s old appearance.

Frightened, Peter grabbed a rock, making short choppy strides like a antelope. “What’s going on!”

Accidentally, Helper 1 shifted toward Peter, along with his magical paw.

In a state of adrenaline, Peter launched several rocks at the dholes. These immobilized Helper 1 and Sigurd. Helper 1 groaned agonizingly.

Helper 2 magically created a tree and angled it to fall toward Peter.

Dashing forward and avoiding the tree, Peter was throwing rocks so fast that Sigurd passed away.

Helper 3’s eyes turned luminous red.

Helper 2 created another tree and angled it horizontally to block Peter’s rocks from Helper 1 and Sigurd.

“No!” Helper 1, Helper 2, and Helper 3 shouted, tears dripping like raindrops, running to Sigurd’s body.

They puked, seeing the mangled state of Sigurd.

After puking, they whimpered, sniffled, and cried more.

Meanwhile, Callous, nose wrinkled, nerves bulging, jaw tightened, explained: "Peter, what just happened may be confusing to you, but let me try to explain. The dholes have a spiritual and magical ritual that we perform when we get a star from that kind of treant. In this case, Helper 1 merged with Helper 4 as part of the ritual, but unfortunately, Helper 4 had to die for the merging to take place. Both Helper 1 and Helper 4 are our allies, and we consider you a friend as well. Please know that you are safe with us, and we are here to help you understand our ways and make you feel comfortable."

Peter stopped. “You did not explain it earlier. You could’ve explained it earlier!” An intrusive image that dholes were stupid flashed through his mind.

He watched the dholes next to Sigurd, imagining blood on his hands. When he stopped imagining, his hands were clean with dirt. His face was blank, and his body was in a frozen stupor. He entered a state like catatonia.

After their initial grief, Helper 1, Helper 2, Helper 3, and Callous slowly, awkwardly lined up, glancing between each other and the ground.

A long silence followed, but Peter stayed frozen, sitting, his limbs in strange positions, staring at a rock.

Callous stood up and gritted his teeth nervously. He said, “Peter.” He waited for five minutes and tapped Peter, pressing against him. Peter resisted him.

Callous returned to the rest of the dholes and waited for an hour. When they saw that Peter was still frozen, Helper 1, Helper 2, and Helper 3 left. Callous stayed and waited for two hours. Peter arose out of his stupor and saw Callous lying down a distance away. Peter woke Callous up. “What’s wrong with you?” he intentionally asked since he knew he had entered a weird stupor.

Callous sat up, his face blank, as his eyes scanned his surroundings. His eyes widened, and he kneeled down and bowed his head to the ground. "We apologize for not explaining the situation earlier,” he said. “We understand that this caused confusion and frustration for you, and we want to make it right. What can we do to help you feel more comfortable?"

Peter sighed. “I have five or six objectives,” he declared. He had remembered his exploratory list. “One, find out more about your histories. Each and everyone of you. Two, the log that one of the dholes that for some reason was so special to you. Three, the prayer meeting of Helper 1. Four, Helper 2’s purpose. And five, the ball of light. I forgot the others and the sixth one.”

Callous gave an assuring smile. “Alright. I’ll make sure to remember each one.”

They returned home, and Peter repeated his declaration to Helper 1, Helper 2, and Helper 3.

“Okay, let’s skip the first one for now,” Helper 2 said, sitting beside Helper 1 and Helper 3. “My powers did not come easily.” He was forcing a smile.

Peter sniffled and rubbed his brows in deep focus. “Helper 2, what’s your purpose? That’s four.”

“I’m not special if that’s what you’re asking—” Helper 2 said dismissively.

“Just answer,” Peter said. Casually, he sat down on a rock, placing one leg over the other. He placed a hand against the side of his hip to balance himself.

“I look for caves using my magic,” Helper 2 said, “and with my magic, I make an effort to start forests inside of the caves.”

Peter squinted. “That sounds low-key,” he said.

Helper 2 was in disbelief, but he maintained a neutral demeanor. “Interesting,” he said. This response amused Peter, and he broke into a toothy grin. This grin caught the dholes off guard. They lowered their heads, waiting for Peter’s next words.

Peter faced Callous. His eyes sharpened, and his expression became cold. Callous opened his mouth. “Callous,” Peter said incredulously. “The first thing you told me was you wishing to be my helper. Seriously, that’s so funny.” He chuckled with a puzzled expression.

Callous grimaced. “Oh, you want to know about that? I saw you kill the Alask dholes, so of course, I felt that you had some potential—”

Helper 1 was murmuring.

Callous smiled toward Helper 1. “Finally, he’s awake,” he said. He stared for a few seconds, and then he noticed Peter’s puzzled expression. “Helper 4 is awake inside Helper 1, or a better way of looking at it is that Helper 4 and Helper 1 are one whole.”

Helper 1 stood up. “I’m going to Helper 4’s fort,” he said. His voice changed to Helper 4’s. “I finally have the money.” When Helper 4 mentioned “money,” Helper 3 remembered his own stash of pesos. He excitedly, telekinetically, magically took the 5 pesos from the pouch he was wearing.

Peter scanned his surroundings to clear his head. He had killed the dholes that Callous called the “Alask dholes.” Helper 4 and Helper 1 had become merged into one entity, which explained the smile on Helper 4’s face when he passed away.

Peter returned his attention to Callous, who was staring at him. “What’s pesos?” he said. “Just money. That’s it?”

Callous smiled. “Yeah, anything else?” he said. “You can join me and a group you’re unfamiliar with on a trek to hunt down some bandit kobolds.”

Peter opened his mouth and smiled. “Sounds good,” he said.

Callous left and returned a few minutes later with a group of dholes with sturdy, rough demeanors.

Peter had a heavy smile. “Nice to meet you everyone,” he said, looking around.

Callous instinctively flinched and put his arms up defensively when Peter turned to him.

“Nice,” one of the new dholes said. She looked puzzled. They pressed their head to Callous. “I thought we were meeting a new dhole.” She was whispering.

Callous introduced this dhole as “Laol.”

Peter had heard Laol and restrained himself from making a joke to be polite.

Callous led the way up a stretch of hills, on a ridge, and into a deep jungle.

In the jungle, they set up camp near a rock face away from an overhanging section of rock in a flat area with good drainage. While gathering food and water, Peter found a pond and submerged his feet in water for the first time in this world. “Damn,” he said, feeling the weight on his shoulders disappear into thin air. “I am the king of this world!”

Wood in between his teeth, Callous let out a muffled laugh when he heard Peter. He was helping two other dholes make an A-frame shelter from natural materials in the environment. Laol was wandering alongside Peter, warning him of dangerous animals or plants in the area. Peter was thankful.

Peter used his brain to remember the names of dangerous animals and plants that Laol mentioned. While thinking and feeling the water below him, Peter realized many times that he probably only had positive thoughts toward himself, each time for a different reason. Through his actions, he had impacted the dholes and transformed their lives. He deemed himself an intellectual spectator in the sense that he morphed himself to become like water. A spectator was incorrigible, but so was water in a sense.

From a tree nearby, a kobold threw a spear with one end going inside Peter’s skin and the other end resembling a whale’s tail. Peter roared. Laol shouted at the top of her lungs, “Help!” Peter had become more accepting of death since his past traumatic experiences. However, he was excited. He pulled the spear, crying and screaming. The pain made him feel alive and weak at the same time. Weakness was power because it motivated him to be strong. He desired strength. He let out a prolonged, triumphant shout. Laol ran off, shouting some more to get Callous’ attention and that of the others.

Chapter 5
The kobold squealed in surprise when Peter threw the spear toward it.

The spear sliced through the kobold's hair, and the spear’s other end struck it with enough force to knock it down. Despite this, the kobold quickly regained its footing, displaying impressive coordination in its arms and legs.

Peter pumped his fists in the air and shouted, “Let’s go!” His voice had been growing faint.

Callous, Laol, and the others arrived fast to heal Peter with magic. The kobold snickered and left, a rock dropping from its pockets.

Callous ran to the falling rock to make sure it stayed within his sight to know where it would land and pick it up after it had landed. “Is this rock important?—” he said.

The rock exploded, and Callous dropped to the ground, dead.

Peter’s chest became tight as he struggled to breathe. Dizzy and nauseous, he fell down sideways, his muscles stiff, and his body ached with palpitations.

“My name is Peter,” he mumbled in a state of shock, responding to trauma as his instincts constrained him. “I’ve been living here for only a day. It’s been nice—”

After Laol slapped him, his face turned to the side. “Peter,” Laol said. They’re surrounding us.”

Peter saw a line of kobolds marching toward him. As he stood up feeling like he was underwater, he heard a genial laugh resembling Callous' in his head.

The smell of heat and kobolds’ scent, like dholes but slightly metallic, made his nostrils enlargen briefly.

He grabbed a rock and threw it miserably.

Each time he wanted to hurl the rock, his hands moved in slow motion. He felt so exhausted.

Laol shouted a profanity and quoted Callous, “‘Some bandit kobolds,’ huh? When did they get so intelligent?”

When Laol mentioned “intelligent,” Peter found composure.

He threw a rock, and it slammed against the head of a kobold.

The kobold fell, dead.

Laol covered her mouth, a toothy grin forming on her face. “Do it again!”

Peter kept throwing as the kobolds slowed down their march. He was more effective with his attacks, eventually killing ten kobolds in quick succession.

The kobolds looked prostrate, but they charged. Their charge was messy, of which the dholes took advantage and finished them off.

Momentarily enraged, Peter had a brief urge to desecrate the kobolds’ bodies, but he easily ended it. He felt his anger would only find release toward his further growth. His first step toward growth was a literal one. He stepped toward the dholes and politely asked them to find the strength in Callous’ death.

Peter’s greater agency made Laol flustered. She thought Peter was overflowing with confidence, which competed with her desires for quiet and introversion. She turned away out of politeness for Peter’s shining moment and to compose herself in the silence of the surrounding nature.

Peter’s grandiosity made one of the other six dholes, including Laol, whisper, “Let us become like gods among men.” Her voice had been growing louder.

Peter heard him and wanted to mock her misapprehension; however, he thought that her cultish deference and ambition was better than hatred and nihilism. Peter said vaguely and diplomatically with an infectious smile: “I understand you want to be a god. What is your name?”

“I am Richardess Gollins at rank 54,” the dhole said. “And you are?”

Hearing that Peter and Richardess’ voices were quiet, Laol returned her attention to Peter and the dholes. The other dholes besides Richardess and Laol distanced themselves from Peter.

“I am a normal man, a Peter,” Peter said, looking at the tear in his shirt with pride.

Richardess asked, “What now of the Matthew, the John, the Caimen, and the Shallow?” Peter squinted, realizing that Richardess was ignorant of the replacement of these four names.

Laol said, “Richardess comes from a different tribe, specifically the Alask dholes.” Brows raised, Peter remembered that the Alask dholes were the dholes he had killed first.

“Did you hear about a human attacking those dholes?” he asked directly. His voice was growing tenser.

Laol shook her head casually to downplay Peter’s tension and maintain the quiet of the conversation.

Richardess advanced next to Peter. “I know it was you,” she said, “which is why I was so against the party. However, I see you are a god, killing tens of kobolds in several minutes with only a rock. I am not the type to hold grudges, you see. My people are not me. I am me.” She stared at Peter passionately as if she had more to say. But she turned and went away, forcing a smile and knitting her brows.

Richardess’ change of behavior made Peter empty the tension in his muscles. He rubbed his head and forced a prostrate expression to downplay her power play. “Okay,” he said lamely.

One of the other dholes in the group shouted, “Peter, a limping golem in the distance.” Peter turned his head slowly to this voice. The changing view made his mind drift briefly. He guessed that the dholes who had distanced themselves had heard Peter’s self-introduction and been listening the whole time. Peter pointed at the dhole. “You!” He sounded hesitant.

The dhole glanced between Peter and the golem for a while before nodding. “Margareth,” she said.

“Yes, you, Margareth, thank you.” Peter’s voice remained hesitant. “The limping golem. What is that?

Margareth explained fast, “It’s a 6-meter-tall—"

“Rock thing that moves,” Richardess interjected.

Margareth said and forced a friendly tone, “Shush your mouth.”

Richardess looked at Peter, showing disappointment toward Margareth.

Peter set aside Margareth and Richardess' conflict, forcing a scowl toward the golem. “Limp golem yes,” he joked deadpan. He wanted to burst into laughter, but he suppressed himself. He turned toward Margareth and the 5 dholes next to her. “Let’s go around it. I have bad news that I need to deliver immediately, or else I might put it off.” Laol, Margareth, and the other 5 dholes nodded and voiced their approval. This chorus of agreement next to Richardess tipped over her decision to complain. Peter saw her tension and said, “We can return with more friends.” Richardess had a blank expression, turning away from Peter. Peter closed his eyes in acceptance. Richardess’ behavior had been confusing him and distracting him from Callous’ death. He had been enjoying the challenge of Richardess’ presence and her contributions to a varied idea playground where he was the foreman. He had felt the rest of the group was too one-sided and wanted to assimilate Richardess’ individualism to the rest of the group.

Peter opened his eyes. “I need to kill something—” he mouthed while zoning out. He stopped himself when he realized the consequences of him feeling this way. He was feeling that he needed to kill something in order to destress. He assigned this feeling as a dangerous one.

When the group returned home, Richardess shot Peter a glance, hoping that he would decide to return to the golem with more friends. She, Laol, Margareth, and the five other dholes went their separate ways.

Relieved, Peter sighed, focusing on the chills from his sweaty back. The forest felt even larger after his travels, which made him feel tiny like an ant waiting to be crushed. The objectivity of his sweat's presence had returned him to reality.

Peter greeted Helper 1, Helper 2, and Helper 3. “Callous died to a bomb by a goblin,” he said weakly but with great effort, his expression blending between gritted teeth and shouting in tears.

Helper 1 collapsed to the ground, clutching his chest as sobs wracked his body. Helper 2 let out a heart-wrenching cry and stumbled backwards, tears streaming down his face. Helper 3 stood frozen in shock, his face pale and her paws trembling.

Peter rephrased Richardess’ statement about wanting to become a god: “Let me become a god.” He stooped and sat on his haunches, crossing his arms and hiding his face behind his arms.

Although Peter wanted to grieve silently for a few hours, he felt this was a good time to ask them questions. “What was Callous like?” he asked. Helper 1, Helper 2, Helper 3, and Helper 4 felt growing grudges in their hearts, and they knew who they hated.

Helper 1 answered, “I don’t know what he was objectively, but to me, I remember a person who could do things. He was a good person if that makes sense.” His voice changed to that of Helper 4’s. “He helped us so much. I can’t imagine not doing life without him.” He teared up a little more.

Peter knitted his brows. He was thinking that their insight was too little. He wanted to hear that Callous had ruled the nations and made his name known as a savior among hundreds of thousands. However, he knew Callous was a normal creature who lived a normal life in this world. “If I became perfect, “ he said,” would I atone for his death?" Helper 1, Helper 2, and Helper 3 looked scared.

Peter stood up with a smile. He set a new rule for himself: “Leave the life-changing questions in his mind open and pending.” “I will become the epitome of grace and beauty,” he said. His voice shifted from being hoarse to being clear and fluent.

The dholes’ fears dissipated, and their expressions turned to that of wonder.

Peter faced them with a strong posture. “Come on, let’s go,” he said, his voice soft and melodious.

The dholes nodded, as they stood up like soldiers in the field of battle. Peter watched them, surprised they approved. He hid his surprise and turned around, leading the way to Richardess’ home and that of the seven other dholes.

Richardess lived in a treehouse with the four trees supporting it carved with ornate, elegant designs depicting the process of making glass. Peter rubbed his brows and pointed at the depictions, confused. “What do those mean?”

Helper 1 nodded and said, “the kind of glass that’s depicted here is specially magical.”

Peter refrained from asking the manner in which the glass was magical to obey his new rule.

Richardess was sitting down behind a tree when she saw Peter at the corner of her eye. “Peter, oh gosh, you scared me,” she said, sounding on edge. “We’re leaving today? You guys looked all stitched-up, and now, we’re going today? Crazy, you guys, huh.”

Peter gave her a polite smile that he showed to the dholes to downplay Richardess’ alertness.

Richardess was rubbing her nose. “I just had to snort some mushrooms for a moment, is that okay?”

Peter dropped his jaw with an exasperated expression. “W-what!”

Richardess grinned, revealing her teeth. “My bad, my bad. Oh, that’s not what I should say.” She sneezed and sniffled. “I’m kinda feeling sick too.”

Peter ran to her and gestured the dholes to Richardess. “Heal her!” he ordered.

Peter was holding Richardess to make sure she stayed still. Richardess chuckled when Peter’s fingers tickled her.

Their hands glowing green, the dholes began to heal her, and Richardess became sleepy.

Peter rubbed his mouth nervously. “I cannot believe someone decided to snort drugs while sick right after someone died. She wasn’t like this hours ago. I cannot believe she did. I cannot believe she did this.”

Peter and the dholes waited patiently. When Richardess woke up an hour later, Peter said, “Was it by accident?”

Richardess showed clarity of mind and apologized. “Yeah,” she said, “I didn’t really think about it—I mean, I think hard about it, but it’s possible to keep track of every single particle, you know!” Her tone showed doubt toward her words. She rubbed her forehead, covering her face.

“You almost died,” Peter said.

“I almost died,” Richardess sadly acknowledged.

“Why do dholes have drug abuse anyways?” Peter said. “I am fucking dogged to keep up with this.”

From the side, Peter glanced at the worried expressions of Helper 1, Helper 2, and Helper 3, the dholes, and apologized. “This is outside of my expectations,” he said.

Helper 1 chuckled tensely. “There’s far more worse things than this,” he said.

Peter faced Helper 1. “Surprising?”

Helper 4’s voice sounded, “Surprising, yes.”

“Oh,” Peter said, feeling that he had fallen from grace.

Helper 1 guffawed, glanced at Helper 2 and Helper 3 to be sure, and said: “We have nowhere else to go. Now that we’re here, let’s do it. Whatever you were planning. I don’t even know.” He gave Peter an encouraging smile. Richardess smiled and slowly placed her paws against her chest out of a warm feeling amid her sadness, Helper 2 was tapping his finger against his arm in a melodic tune, Peter stared at the sky for a few seconds and evaluated his mind, Helper 1 was mouthing a prayer, and Helper 3 stared at the ground and began to swing his legs back and forth, all at once. Callous had been Peter’s initiator. Now, Peter wanted to initiate and finish missions. Helper 1 had paused his praying after he received the news of Callous death. He regretted this and was praying more fervently.

Helper 2 took a step ahead of Helper 1 and Helper 3. “I can start forests, remember?” Richardess craned her neck toward Peter and the other dholes curiously. Meanwhile, Peter remembered his temporary residence in the forest alongside Laol and the other dholes. His feelings toward Helper 2’s magical abilities had changed from negative to positive during this time.

Peter nodded in agreement, his expression serious. "We can begin by using Helper 2’s magic ability to start a forest," he said. "But we need to be cautious and plan our next steps carefully. We don't want to attract unwanted attention or put ourselves in danger." He glanced around at the group, making eye contact with each member to convey his seriousness. "Let's work together and approach this with caution." Helper 2 burst into laughter. Richardess shook out of surprise.

“Wait, wait, I haven’t even shown you,” Helper 2 proposed to Peter. “It’s faster than you think!” Richardess maintained her curiosity.

A trusting smile contrasted with and replaced Peter’s serious expression. “We can also begin by doing that,” he joked. The similarity in wording of his statement to his previous one about using Helper 2's magic ability to start a forest made him laugh.

Richardess weekly said, “Excuse me, when are you guys leaving—” This reminded Peter of the strong glow his hands exhibited when he had first been talking to Callous when they were alone.

“Join us!” Peter exclaimed, checking the other dholes’ reaction to his enthusiasm.

Helper 2 checked Helper 1 and Helper 3 to be sure and said, “Sure.”

As the human Peter looked into the distance, he saw and analyzed one goblin with a strong stature and knowing eyes. He wore an ornately embroidered, colorful, untucked long-sleeve shirt, along with a loincloth, loose pants, and a headdress adorned with jewels or gold. He held a long, single-edged sword used for slashing and thrusting and a round shield made of lightweight materials. Other goblins stood behind him and dressed lighter; however, their faces showed a firm intelligence. They held spears with two blades attached to the end of the shaft, each one curving outward in opposite directions. This design allowed the spear to have a larger cutting edge and increased its effectiveness in close combat. Additionally, the curving blades might help the spear to penetrate armor or shields by allowing it to slide around and through them. The goblins had expected Peter to be armored from the rumors of his sole victory against 100 kobolds and the killing of Sigurd and 5 Alask dholes. Peter made an effort to smile and wave and advanced ahead of the dholes to emphasize his friendly nature. “Hello!” he shouted, while he pushed down his feelings of surprise and confusion.

Chapter 6
The goblin with the strong stature raised his brows and slowly smiled. He nodded approvingly and began moving toward Peter, climbing down a slope and carefully avoiding some rocks here and there. Despite the difficulty of walking on the terrain, his smile stayed on his face. “Join us Peter,” he said in a different language as one of the goblins beside him translated. “Humans were magnificent creatures, all knowing in their ways. I have found their souls brimming with desire for the gods. They know not to push themselves to the pitiful ground where I and my fellow goblins live.” His voice had been shifting to tension and became angry revealing his self-hatred at the national level. “We are too immature and technologically wasted.” The goblins following behind him shared his self-hatred and showed it through their twitching eyes. Meanwhile, Peter looked down sideways thoughtfully, relating to his technological passion, and almost nodded out of approval to ease his tension and find camaraderie, but he was hesitant.

“I would hate to be your friend,” the goblin speaker continued. His translator translated, and Peter raised his brows in shock. “I would want to be your slave until eternity passes and I have earned the right after an eternity of technological and cultural growth!” He sounded obsessed, but his voice turned calm and casual like a friend in time of need. “Let me be your helper in this land.”

Used to sudden developments in this fantastical world, Peter nodded, smiled, said, and turned around to face the dholes, “Sure.” He had hidden his expression. The goblin speaker’s translator courteously translated Peter’s voiced approval, and the attentive goblin speaker found Peter’s short answer amusing and genially laughed alongside his translator. Despite the smile Peter had shown, his restrained, sweat-damped face was marked with confusion and shock. When he heard “helper” from the translator, a frustration began to boil inside him. The goblin speaker smirked in pride for Peter. He felt that he was a better human than he thought and skilled enough to have a group of dholes awaiting his order. Troubled, Peter thought about the method of grabbing a rock and throwing it at all his problems since it had worked for three past major events. He imaged the scenes of the events. He had used this method against the first group of dholes he encountered, the Alask dholes, against Helper 1 and the now-dead Sigurd, and against the 100 kobolds. He preferred to be diplomatic, but he had too many heavy questions, which warranted respect and authority here firstly. The dholes in front of Peter shifted their gazes between Peter and the goblins, waiting for either of them to speak. They had been moving between Peter’s side and the goblins’. Peter had matched the goblin speaker’s knowing eyes and glanced at the dholes, which silently communicated for them to stay close to him. The dholes caught the cue and agreed, panting as they ran to Peter. The goblin speaker cordially said, “How are you?” He was eying the dholes from the side, as he had turned his body sideways from Peter. This turning had allowed Peter to get a glimpse of one of the other goblins behind staring intensely at him and another who was holding a long scroll. Peter faked a smirk, but he felt it was contradictory to his personhood and put it away. The elegant goblin speaker exclaimed, “How are you!” Peter jolted and smiled, placing his hand over his head, embarrassed. Peter’s reaction had slipped the goblin speaker’s mind. Meanwhile, the dholes were too nervous, looking elsewhere and ignorant of to whom the goblin speaker was speaking. After a few painful seconds, the goblin speaker rubbed the hair on the side of his head and said, “Dung, how are you?” His voice was gracious, but his expression was too intense for the dholes.

Hearing the slur “dung,” the dholes knew that it referred to them. They mumbled and yelped along the lines of “Okay—we’re doing great!” They had spoken in the goblin speaker’s language. Peter grew too frustrated and laughed. His concluded understanding of the goblin speaker’s personhood and his effect on Peter and the dholes amused him. The goblin speaker cocked his head around at Peter, his brows knitted.

“Hey, what’s this?” Peter asked the goblins and the dholes with authority. “‘Dung’?” he quoted. He had been using the same demanding, commanding tone he had given Callous, whose endearing likeness he found in the goblin speaker’s agency and personality.

The goblin speaker made himself look small. “It’s a nickname for dholes.”

Meanwhile, halfway through this statement, Peter emphasized, presuming the goblin speaker’s words, “Didn’t sound like it.” Peter turned toward the translator. “Didn’t sound like it was just that,” he clarified. The goblin speaker’s translator translated them carefully, for which goblin speaker waited 5 seconds.

“Uh, sorry,” the goblin speaker said in a subdued manner, “you don’t like it?”

Peter abruptly turned and left, and the dholes were baffled. Peter gestured the doles to him. The goblin speaker stared at Peter’s back with a twinkle in his eye. “The best part about changing the world would be you being here beside me,” he said in a tired but satisfied tone.

In the middle of a formation of him and dholes, Peter’s mind drifted. He had felt that thinking about the loss of Callous and Sigurd became easier when he associated the goblin speaker with Callous. He associated Callous with Sigurd.

He redirected his thoughts toward his newfound authority. He felt that the dholes would see him for he was, a weakling, the coward that Callous had seen. He wanted to match the expectations he believed he saw from them.

Richardess interrupted Peter’s planning, “The association will help us.”

Peter shifted his gaze between the dholes, especially Richardess. “Which one?” He realized he had accidentally included the associations from Earth when he said “Which one?” He felt he should have said, “I didn’t know there was such a thing as an association in this world,” instead.

Richardess smiled. She thought Peter was making an effort to be helpful by guessing when he said “Which one?” “The association ordered me to reveal it to you once 10 days have passed to ensure that you’ve assimilated to our culture well enough,” she said. “However, seeing that you’ve made contact with the goblin overlords, I promptly decided on my own to give you the secrets.” She adopted an exaggerated expression of guilt.

Peter was amazed, thinking that Richardess was more intelligent and well-spoken than he thought. He thought her words “goblins overlords” should obligate him to feel afraid. “You’re a part of this association,” he said. However, he was ignorant of whether Richardess was a part of the association. He was lying in order to verify his statement through Richardess’ next reaction. He did this arbitrarily.

“Okay,” she said, subdued. Her reaction confirmed Peter’s statement.

“Which one?” Peter repeated.

“How did you know?” Richardess asked. Her intense expression reminded Peter of himself when he had been asking Callous and the other dholes why they had been changing their names to “Helper 1” and “Helper 2” from “John” and “Matthew.” Peter smiled, feeling camaraderie that he had been hoping to get from the goblin speaker.

“I was just guessing,” Peter said.

“Guessing?” Richardess said. “Didn’t sound like it.” Peter covered his mouth, surprised. She used the same words as he did from that time during the renaming.

“Lying then,” he smiled. He felt that his answering of Richardess’ question also solved the irritation he felt when the dholes during the renaming refrained from answering his question.

The dhole Richardess asked another question, “Why did you lie?”

The other dholes next to Richardess and Peter stopped pretending to listen and stared obviously at them.

“I did it without thinking,” Peter said. “I don’t usually lie. I apologize.”

“No, it’s not necessarily bad to lie,” Richardess said, “but know the consequences.”

Feeling like now was a good time to ask questions, Peter looked toward Helper 2 and said, “Why are you so quiet? Even Helper 1 and the one merged inside him, Helper 4, are quiet.” He glanced in the direction where the goblins had been, guessing that the goblins had scared the dholes into silence.

Helper 1’s mouth slowly opened. “I almost died.”

Peter’s eyes widened.

“You think we had let you off, Peter?” Helper 2 said speedily. “We were planning to kill you and move on with our lives because of what you did to Sigurd and possibly even Callous.”

Peter looked offended, his gaze turning cold. He was emotionally separating the fact that he had killed Sigurd and the fact that Callous had passed away to a kobold bomb. “I understand you’re mad, but slow down. I’m confused right now and feeling bad. So can we slow down and communicate?”

Helper 2 struck Peter, and Peter blocked him with his arms. “Argh!” Peter said.

“I hate you!” Helper 2 roared at the top of his lungs, each word being an avalanche of emotions. His paws began to glow red.

Peter opened his mouth in shock. He stammered out his thoughts: “I thought I could make it.”

Helper 2 magically created a tree and angled it to fall toward Peter.

Peter looked at the tree and imaged a scene with Helper 1, Helper 2, Helper 3, and Helper 4, all of whom looked cold and detached, with acceptance. “I thought I was good enough—”

Helper 2 imaged a scene. In it, Peter’s expression was bleak, as his body littered the ground like a wet soggy sack.

Peter threw rocks at Helper 2’s face, causing him to lose consciousness. He had dodged the tree by sliding underneath it before it landed.

As Helper 2’s body fell, Helper 1 pointed his hand, which Peter grabbed, and he stabbed Helper 1’s neck with the pointy part of a rock.

Helper 1 fell, his arm trembling. Peter sighed and stared at Helper 3 and Richardess, who pointed at him. Terrified, they ran.

Peter cursed, “Shit, I killed Helper 1 and 4! Fuck!” He tensed his leg, feeling an urge to stomp the ground until his leg stopped working.

“No,” Peter cried and felt an urge to run. Picking between stomping his leg and running away, he ran.

A goblin saw him.

“No!” Peter cried, registering the goblin as an enemy. He muttered, “My luck!”

He let himself fall to the ground, hurting his chin.

The sun seemed to go up so fast, hours passing in a flash.

When it was morning and too hot to lie down, he stood up and said, “I am nothing.”

The goblin had left, following the order of the goblin speaker to leave Peter be.

“Can I be normal?” Peter said slowly. “Live a normal life? You know? ‘You only see war this way when you’ve been through it.’” He likened his recent life to a war and paraphrased the saying that war makes people want to be normal. “Or you become a nuthead with no gains at all in critical thinking or logic.” He was saying that war made people crazy and irrational. “What fucking joke is this? Don’t give me this shit!” He was talking to Life. He felt that Life had been giving him hope after hope and betrayed him again and again like a monstrous devil tempting him with gifts only to backstab him.

He breathed easily. He had been getting used to the stench, sight, and knowledge of death. However, emotionally, it still impacted him heavily.

Remembering the most traumatic part of his past fight, he broke into an enraged glower, which gave him an exertion headache. He felt like he wanted to lie down on the ground and wake up an eternity later for a good full rest.

Sitting on his haunches, he composed his reactions quickly and analyzed the consequences of Helper 1, Helper 2, Helper 3, and Helper 4, all of whom he grouped under the name “Helpers.” Their actions interrupted and sabotaged his relationship with Richardess. He had crossed out the Helpers’ connection with him as a lost cause. The option to engage with the goblins was open.

He stood up and broke into a toothy grin. “I love people so much,” he said. His tone had shifted from sarcasm to embitterment toward his noble, compassionate but challenging desire to help and support people, including the dholes. He began to wander.

While looking for the goblin he had seen earlier, he went next to the dhole body of Helper 1, the only one he had killed during the last fight.

He left. He felt a flushed face and a racing heart still.

He was hungry and thirsty, which reminded him of his first day in this world when he almost died, making him feel more energetic.

A goblin appeared and pointed in the direction where the body had been. She was dragging Helper 1’s merged dhole body. “We can hide the body, but where’s the others?” she said. His demeanor revealed an accommodating soldier.

Peter’s expression was taut, staring despondently.

The goblin soldier forced a polite smile and turned around, putting the body down. When she turned around, she jolted backward.

Peter had picked up a stone, tears dripping down his face.

The goblin soldier gave him a revulsed glance and ran away in zigzags.

Peter hugged Helper 1 and Helper 4’s body. “I was not able to hug Sigurd and Callous,” he said. “I was unable to, but now, I can hug you, the both of you.” He smiled, feeling like he could die here and be satisfied. “I’m sorry I’m an evil man. A good person would be perfect.” When he said “perfect,” he felt greatly motivated like he could conquer the world. He shifted his gaze in the direction where the goblin soldier had begun to run.

Peter decided against looking at Helper 1 and Helper 4’s body any longer and ran after the goblin soldier to join the goblins’ ranks.

Helper 2 glanced at Peter and at Helper 3 and Richardess next to him. “Help him,” he stoically said in a voice analogous to Callous’. He had regained consciousness and slipped Peter’s mind. They were hiding behind Helper 2’s magically created heavy concentration of vegetation.

Peter arrived a distance from Richardess’ home and scouted the area, confident in his rock-throwing method. He traveled past the house and looked for homes as more gorgeous than Richardess’ home. He had remembered the dholes’ lowly dinner table. Richardess had been absent at that table, which suggested that either Richardess was from a different tribe or was a step above in social standing.

Despite operating on guesswork, Peter found it. A town with lavish homes. Dholes who were rich enough to be a part of the goblin town lived on the poorer side of the village. Goblins, who were the dholes’ betters, lived on the richer side. Around the town’s periphery, in toes, goblin soldiers patrolled against banditry from dhole tribes and crime from town dholes. Some of the soldiers had lesser dhole companions who fetched them food, water, and handled boring tasks.

Peter saw a goblin running away from the town. Seeing opportunity, he shouted at the goblin, hoping his voice sounded goblin enough. Doubtful, Peter realized he felt so greedy, but part of him wanted to run away to a farm and take over once the owner whom he groomed to hand him the farm had passed away. He imaged a building depicting a town-economy-and-security-upset plan magically constructing itself in front of him. The goblin turned around and saw only a vast sea of trees.

Peter had hidden behind a tree, deep in thought. He had noticed a small fort on a hill in the distance and remembered the deceased dhole Helper 4’s mention of a “fort,” which reminded him that the alive dhole Helper 3 had 5 pesos. This subsequent reminder connected him to the fact that he was living from hand to mouth financially. He stepped back and felt that engaging the goblins was too dangerous for him right now. He abandoned his town-economy-and-security-upset plan out of economically disadvantage.

Thinking quickly, since it was getting hot, Peter put mud on his face to make himself look feeble and weak. He adopted an exhausted, feeble gait and expression. He appeared in front of the town, scanning the goblin soldiers for a familiar face. “I am a normal man, a Peter,” he said routinely.

The goblin soldiers looked at him and raised their spears out of routine. “A human!” they exclaimed. Peter looked like wet rags, but the dignity of a human was brilliant toward them.

One of the soldiers advanced ahead of the rest and said, “Are you the one that Ben requested us to look out for?” The soldiers behind him shared puzzled looks.

“Ben,” one of the soldiers behind said, “Why is that human related to him?”

Peter blinked hard, rummaging his mind for related information. “Was he the goblin who went to me and spoke about technology?” he reached out from his mind and threw a response quickly.

Meanwhile, the soldier, who had advanced ahead of the rest, recounted the story of Peter and the goblin Ben to the soldiers.

The soldiers lowered their heads, becoming stone-faced. “Go in,” they told Peter. “Ben is waiting.”  This confirmed that Ben was the goblin speaker with whom he had had a conversation.

Peter’s hands glowed bright enough to make some of the soldiers blink. The light passing through the airway gaps between the ceiling and the walls formed a clear, white, rectangular bar of light amid the yellow of sunshine and despite the brilliance of sunlight.

The soldiers stopped following him and pointed their spears at him. “You’re here to assassinate Ben?”

Peter turned around and saw the glow.  In a state of panic or distress that prevented rational thought, he only remembered that Callous had mentioned the glow to him. He shouted, “No, no, no!” His panicked reaction made the soldiers tenser. Peter stared at one of the soldiers with pleading eyes and raised hands. Peter’s subsequent reaction pushed this soldier to break into a mad dash until he stabbed Peter.

Peter fell, immobilized and bleeding. He tensed his hands around a rock, but he decided at that moment that this was a perfect way to die.

The soldiers waited a few seconds and gestured to one of them to remove the spear in Peter’s body.

Peter screamed. Despite his recent experiences with severe physical pain, his pain tolerance only decreased and would take months to years to return to normal.

The soldiers’ dholes snuck up behind Peter and healed him, their hands glowing purple. Peter imaged a past memory of dholes healing with green-glowing paws instead of purple.

Peter’s expression became dull with post-adrenaline calm. He stayed still, waiting for a second mad stab to him. “It hurts,” he said, referring to his emotions. In this state of vulnerability and honesty, he felt he was removed from his definition of a “bad guy.”

The soldiers pick Peter up and drag him to Ben despite his still glowing hands by reason of his depressed, passive demeanor.

“Peter, you can do it!” Peter heard an imaginary voice from his childhood on Earth. “Don’t you have an idea? Commit to it!” It was his teacher.

Tears dripped down Peter’s face, as his soul returned to him, wanting to leave all this time.

The declaration of agency and self-determination in the line, “I’m a human,” became written on Peter’s face, and the goblin soldiers noticed it too, feeling subdued.

In the middle of a room, sitting down, the goblin Ben saw Peter’s face and felt inspired. “Humanity is written all over your face!” he exclaimed. The goblin soldiers let go of Peter next to a chair near the exit.

Chapter 7
Peter sat down and smiled, discarding his expressions of vulnerability to adopt a more professional and courteous attitude. He wanted to win in a discussion concerning his fragile life.

Ben glanced at Peter’s sunburned shoulder and returned his gaze outside one of his room’s windows. “Your dignity has been hurt,” he said, referring to his inflamed shoulder. He had a slanted frown, troubled.

He poured a cup of glutinous rice porridge on a table beside Peter instead of ordering his guards and made a strong gesture of an analytical gaze. “By whom?” he said and shot his gaze at Peter.

Peter drank slowly and patiently from the cup, feeling relieved in both hunger and thirst, and broke into a toothy grin. “The sun,” he said.

Ben shook his head and dropped his jaw. “The sun serfs?” he asked, misunderstanding.

Peter was confused, but his grin persisted.

Ben stared at him for a few seconds, making Peter feel awkward.

Ben slowly composed himself and returned to an elegant attitude, sitting down and taking a sip out of a juice drink. He put one leg over the other, placing a hand against the side of his hip to balance himself. He was waiting for Peter’s response.

A long silence followed in which Ben felt relaxed but Peter felt so awkward that he remembered the treant who had made him feel like he was about to die.

Peter relented, sighing in his head, cleared his throat politely, and asked, “What are you talking about?”

"Sun serfs?" Ben asked, his tone relaxed. "Oh, just a bunch of people. You know, the kind of people who are always out there doing something. I remember this one time I was talking to them... they told me that my dhole regiment was useless. Can you believe it? I mean, what do they even know about dholes anyway? But, you know, whatever. It's not like they've got all the answers. Speaking of answers, have you ever wondered why we can't train animals like they do in the plays? I mean, if humans can do it, we can too, right? But that's just my opinion. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah, it's true, but the way I describe it was a little off. I was tired from walking. I'm not a good walker, you see. My knee gives me trouble sometimes, but I don't like to complain about it. You know me, always looking on the bright side." He flashed a grin and shrugged his shoulders.

Peter raised his hand behind his head to run his hands through his hair and soothe himself, but he briskly retracted it halfway. He felt bored and confused listening to him. He remembered that Ben had been so concise and magnetic when they had met the last time, which was the first time. He felt that the goblin Ben might be right when he said that goblins were awful compared to humans if Ben was their cream of the crop.

During Ben’s monologue, Peter scratched his head and his way of words matched Callous’. “You've got so much to say, I'm having trouble keeping up! Let's take a quick breather and refocus on the main point.”

Ben nodded obediently, but he discarded his discussion on sun serfs.

He gazed outside and slowly paid attention to detail to clear his mind and think of a new answer. Peter was waiting patiently with a satisfied smile on his face. Ben found himself comparing the sunlit side and the overshadowed parts of the buildings. “Is it the literal sun that has hurt your dignity?” he asked.

In order to prevent himself from appearing disingenuous, Peter waited for several seconds with a listening gaze and then nodded.

Ben smiled. “Oh,” he said, a smile forming on his face. “Thank you.”

Peter thought Ben appeared more childlike than the children he might have left starving. Since he had confirmed that Ben was at ease and indebted to him, Peter broke out of his lowered stature next to the exit and the guards, moved up casually next to a window deeper into the room, and gazed outside. This action changed the atmosphere, as Peter looked like the senior and owner of this place. Peter saw buildings ahead and people moving in crowds below him. He paid attention to detail to clear his mind and think of a new direction. He was waiting patiently with a satisfied smile on his face. Peter compared the people to each other and found that they all looked different and unique despite the initial sense of sameness they all had with each other.

He found an initial feeling of sameness between this crowd that depicted this different world’s society and society on his former world Earth. However, this feeling dispersed, only leaving the chaotic medieval world of goblins, humans, and dholes. Peter wanted to understand this world quickly. He felt he might go insane if he failed. He felt weak and thought that the Earth had the internet and that detached humans and creatures wrote the books here.

Peter glanced behind him toward Ben. A neutral expression had replaced Ben’s mellow one. Peter interpreted this as a sign to return to his seat to the same level of Ben. Peter realized a chain of two factors. One, Ben preferred to be at the same level as Peter, which was why he had presented and was maintaining a professional demeanor in respect to equality. Two, Ben felt that his indebtedness would allow Peter to feel casual in his room but for a certain amount of time.

Peter nodded, and Ben nodded, his smile returning.

Peter stared for 10 seconds, matching Ben’s stare. They both were relaxed and full of thoughts and realizations that they were explicating.

Peter picked up the cup and said, breaking the silence, “What’s this?”

“Rice porridge, and it is stupidly good,” Ben said.

“Okay, okay, that’s good,” Peter said and gave a thumbs-up. He recalled that the last time he had given a thumbs-up was toward the dhole with the magical ball of light several days ago at the banquet.

They were speaking casually.

Peter smiled, “Do you know that I am a human?”

“It is evident that you are a human,” Ben said, returning to a formal tone.

Peter smiled, “Do you know in what way I am a human?” He was referring to the fact he was a human from Earth instead of a human from this world.

Ben said in a half-formal, half-casual tone, “Wow, are you intending to impart upon me a lesson on humanity?”

Peter intensified his smile. “No, not today, but tell me, how are you planning to change the world?”

A toothy grin formed on Ben’s face. “Oh, you can review my work if you want!” He gestured to the guards in the room to call one of the goblin servants outside the room to get him a scroll. A goblin servant later came in and handed the guard a scroll, which the guard handed to Ben.

Ben read off the long scroll: "My fellow citizens, I stand before you today with a heavy heart.

“The poor state of our bridges makes transportation difficult, and in some cases, impossible.

“I am one of you.

“I understand your frustration, and I feel your pain.

“But I am here to tell you that you are not alone.

“I will fight for you.

“I will work tirelessly to ensure that our town's infrastructure is updated and improved.

“Together, we will build a stronger, safer, and more prosperous town, one bridge at a time.

“Thank you. See you later at the bridges.”

Meanwhile, Peter realized the fact that during his first meeting with Ben, Ben was looking sideways and reading off a scroll one of his goblin soldiers was holding. He was imagining the scene from different angles and the effects if he had realized this fact at that time. Ben frustrated and amused him.

“This is an enlightening speech,” Peter exclaimed with a serious look that arose out of frustration. The scroll and the speech had enlightened him to realize Ben’s void of competence and his desire to fill it. Ben interpreted his statement and demeanor as those of respect.

Peter smiled. He thought that while Ben had a decent little social standing and a functional noble authority, he should be replaced with any significantly higher order of intelligence.

The goblin Ben nodded giddily, finding the human Peter agreeable. “I hope that you choose to stay here. It does not have to be here in my small house.” He was referring to his mansion. “You can stay anywhere you want. I’ll get one of my servants to accompany you. Is that fine with you? They are willing to die for you if it’s you, a human with everlasting wisdom. You’ll be like a god in a human sense. Like technological holders of divinity! ” He was euphoric and his judgments were happening fast. He felt that servants were cold and aloof objects. His intention of a servant next to Peter at all times was to report the state of Peter’s humanity everyday and protect his body and dignity. He felt that he was doing the right thing by giving people tasks and jobs.

Peter wondered when the esteemed humans from this world would come to conquer these lands and leave a trail of his body parts in their wake. Despite his capacity for this pessimistic imagery, he felt that optimism defined him. Peter stared at his glowing hands, treating them as an ornamental perk since they were outside of his understanding. He thought that they had potential from the knowledge he acquired from Callous. However, he maintained reality-first for his behavior over hypotheses, anecdotes, and theories. His resorting to throwing real rocks at the current problem had been altering his mindset to fit this behavior better.

Meanwhile, Ben stared at him and waited for 5 minutes. His excitement died down.

After he saw that Ben was experiencing post-euphoria sadness and disorientation, Peter asserted his order, “Do not give me a servant that won’t obey me completely.”

In his vulnerable impressionable state, Ben nodded and obeyed, calling for one of two specific servants that revered humans.

Peter smiled. He compared his current accomplishment against Ben to his past accomplishment against the dhole who had wanted him to participate in disarming the dholes. He felt that he had grown so much, which reflected the rising difficulty of the challenges his journey posed here. He looked in the direction where the hostile dholes had been and realized that he had forgotten to confirm the dhole Helper 2’s life status. Ben interpreted his looking toward the dholes as appreciation toward the walls that he fashioned after the humans’ ones.

Peter noticed a portrait of a goblin.

When the servant walked up next to Peter, Peter smelled death from her, and he wrinkled his nose and knitted his brows in worry. Ben reacted, whispering to the servant to leave immediately unless they wanted to die. As the servant left, Ben called for the other servant that revered humans.

Meanwhile, the sudden but ordinary movements of Ben and the servants confused Peter. This confusion made Peter physically aware of his surroundings. He superimposed an imagination on his surroundings: the reach of his arms against the walls if he dashed and stood at different locations in the room while holding a weapon, the feeling of rocks against the palms of his hands and their release, the height and width of the bodies of goblins, the protectiveness of their skin and armor, the length of the spears the goblin guards held, the darting eyes of goblins and their blindspots, the sounds of broken vases, furling rugs, and screaming, the sky turning dark, moonlit blood covering the walls, the shocked faces of deceased goblins that followed him wherever he went. The scene of his imagination flashbacked to the painful memories of the sun burning his skin for 3 hours, of the terrifying appearance of Callous, of his vulnerability toward Callous, of Callous death, of Sigurd’s death, of Helper 1 and Helper 4 screaming at him as he killed them, of the dholes he first killed, of the faces of anguish on their faces, of the deaths of the kobolds, of them offering their hands holding their culture in the form of tiny plants rooted in a handful of dirt, of them screaming “Why!” toward the sky and Peter, of Sigurd laughing beside Helper 3 and Helper 4, of Helper 4 smiling when he died. The sounds from his imagination sounded in his ears. His heart pounded, shooting blood into his hands, feet, and various parts of his back to keep track of backstabbing.

Ben interrupted his imagination when he shouted for the sixth time, “Are you okay!”

Peter looked at Ben. “I’m a normal man, a Peter,” he said routinely. He had answered an imaginary voice that had shouted “What are you!”

Ben sighed. “Okay, I want you to stay here. You look sick. Sickness, right? Sorry, I’m never sick.” His tone changed, superimposing a binding compassion on his sadness and disorientation. He showed an accommodating demeanor that matched that of his servants.

The new servant distanced herself from Peter, fearing that he would infect her. Ben was the opposite. He wanted to get Peter’s sickness to understand his human feelings and thoughts.

Ben led Peter to a bed on the floor and stayed with him, waiting hours for him to sleep. Peter was groaning the whole time and got a fever.

Ben gestured to the servant to heal Peter, and the servant spent an hour healing Peter.

When Peter had fallen asleep, “Peter, what are you?” Ben asked. And then he answered himself, quoting Peter, “‘I’m a normal man, a Peter.’”

Ben wanted to kick the wall out of frustration.

In the morning, Peter woke up with a clear head, but he was hungry.

After feeding him plenty of rice with dried beef and water, Ben told him to head down the main road at the left side of his mansion to the adventurer dungeon. He humorously promised that Peter would find “enlightenment,” reusing Peter’s mention of “enlighten” in his response “This is an enlightening speech.” to Ben’s bridge speech.

He said this was a hint.

Peter was confused, but he matched Ben’s comedic energy, studying Ben’s expression for hints of an imaginary secret society.

He remembered his own strong emotional reaction last night.

He left abruptly to clear his muddy head after remembering.

As his walking gave him a sense of motion and sped up the thinking of his brain, he realized that Ben had been accommodating him and helpfully suggested the way to the dungeon despite Peter’s sudden break of the strong and dominant character he had been portraying. He felt pleasantly surprised.

He saw a bridge and, after a few seconds, raised a finger and huzzahed. His novel use of this huzzah characterized his journey since his departure from Earth. Ben had hinted at the bridge, giving a sense of ease. The grassy bridge looked like an adorable creature with a green bubbly blob for its body, two grey legs made of cement support structures, and a brown pot with a pink flower on its head, which the arches made of brown and pink wood formed. He remembered the bridge on Earth where he rested after running from the screams and the sagely man on it. He thought the sagely man had a similar temperament to Sigurd.

The sky was wide, and it seemed to consume the town. Peter felt the dholes watching him were reverent with their staring and obvious lowering of heads. He felt discomfort, but he trusted Ben, who had taken care of him and suggested he go down this path.

He saw a tall statue depicting Ben. Peter’s eyes were wide. “That’s not normal,” he said loudly. He touched his lips, surprised that he had thought out loud. He remembered that he had been internally critical on Earth. However, he acknowledged his changing. He preferred this over feeling that the pain of initial confusion would never stop. Peter wanted to fight something though, which he was learning to enjoy over time.

He saw multiple other statues depicting other nobles and large towers and buildings. He compared the first levels of the buildings to the subsequent floors above them. The first levels were ornately designed with beautiful goblins walking the street wearing elegant clothes. He had become so comfortable in this city-like feeling that he had had back on Earth that he became ignorant of the stark contrast between this town and the dholes’ environment.

He felt free from the bonds of the wilderness. He felt like he could touch and eat the sky.

His hands were moving coordinately. He imagined walking to the left. He walked to the left. His thoughts were free for him to reify.

The dholes around him felt that he had a mountain of precious knowledge that they wanted to acquire like blocks of wood to be added to the precut supply store and decipher like master architects with engineering prowess. However, these dholes, who had more access to books and well-read goblins, were a rare, wealthier kind that lived near the nobles compared to the dholes living in tribes. They knew that education was crucial to livelihood and technological growth.

Peter watched in awe at a spectacle. A 100-meter-tall treant in the distance on a large empty field with a wide empty path back to the jungle carried a large rock, a part of a hill, while a group of flying 3-meter-tall golems healed the treant’s injuries. The treant could see from each inch of its body and easily avoided and slowed his movements to a statue-like halt.

The magical nature of the statues coupled with the spectacle of the animated treant and the giant flying golems reconnected Peter to his memories.

Peter stared in silence as images of bodies filled his mind.

Despite his aching realization, he restrained himself from dropping to his knees and moderated his reaction by lowering his head. He wanted to avoid embarrassment amid the crowds of the town. “I was overly trusting,” he admitted, referring to his behavior toward Ben.

He walked, but his mind was racing. He had an urge to leave the town, repeating the word “exit” in his mind. Yet, while walking, a passerby would feel that Peter was like a stoic cleric who meditated in one spot for the whole day everyday based on his calm demeanor and gait. He was afraid that the guards knew Ben, who he was sure would trap him and study him for eternity, only using his kindness as a guise and his food as a poison for the mind. He wanted to live.

When he exited the town, he remembered the stabilizing texture of the concrete road and the irritating perfume scent of goblin women as he walked through the crowds. He cleared his mind and walked faster, seeing a group of goblins nodding toward him. They had seen that he was walking in the direction of an adventurer dungeon and felt at ease.

Peter stood before an adventurer dungeon, and his expression was stone-faced. The path away from the town ran along the dungeon. The town exit and the path were different from the ones he had passed. He concentrated his discontent through the moderated reaction of pinching his arm. He had been rubbing the underside of his arm to soothe himself but failed.

Peter scanned his memories for the dholes’ reactions to his rocks. His rock throwing was powerful, but his new environment that was full of unknowns was more intimidating. He pressed his nails against the palms of his hands, wishing for the glow to return since it had disappeared when he slept.

He needed stability. He climbed a rock and imagined himself floating above the clouds. He mixed his imagination with his memories and made several guesses. From where he was, he saw that the terrain at the edges of his view were different from the town exit whence he had entered to meet Ben. He saw several trees and then remembered that they were the statues. He saw the treant, and the sound of its walking was isolated to where it walked. He realized magic was at play. He assumed many things like the weather, the clouds, and the location of the other adventurer dungeon, that which Ben had mentioned. He pinpointed the exact location he needed to check. This was the assumed location of the town exit opposite to the exit from which he had exited last.

He removed himself from his imagination, jolting himself to life. He got down the rock and ran, avoiding the attention of the patrolling goblin soldiers.

He had forgotten to laugh about his ornamental inclusion of the statue “Christ the Redeemer” from Earth in his imaginary map for scale. However, he had only traveled to one foreign country, South Korea, which meant that the statue’s scale was grossly wrong. This was new fuel for another series of “Ha!”

Peter stared a rabbit down on the way, feeling like a rambunctious boy again.

The rabbit stared at him like it was giving him the stink eye. Peter thought the rabbit was so cute and easy to cuddle.

Peter reentered the town and readopted a calm demeanor and gait. Instead of hiding his face and showing quiet hostility, he offered a smile and a nod to any passersby who accepted.

The dhole Helper 2 noticed Peter while wearing a hood over his head. “Is he okay?” he asked. His expression had a gentleness that stemmed from exhaustion from seeing his people get killed.  Yet, Peter’s hug toward Helper 1 and Helper 4 made rage against the killer Peter an idealistic difficulty. His only compromise that fit the ideals of his people that were still alive was to ensure Peter stayed on the right path.

Helper 3 ran and purposely bumped into Peter to force a meeting.

Peter yelled in surprise, stopping himself halfway. “What are you doing here?” he asked. He looked around and helped Helper 3 to stand up. The reactions of the people around showed mild concern. Peter rubbed Helper 3’s side intensely. “If you want to kill me, you’re going to have to try a little better than that.”

Helper 3 turned his head away.

Richardess appeared and spectated them.

Chapter 8
Peter let go of Helper 3 and apologized, looking toward Richardess. “I have nothing to say,” he said. “A sorry is too much to forgive when it comes to that. I cannot expect anything. Your judgment of me was wrong. You fought a mirage.”

The Helpers were intelligent, good at controlling their expressions. However, Helper 3 let himself show his anger. “What to do?” he whispered. “You killed Sigurd.”

Peter asked, “Can you help me instead?”

Helper 3 nodded and said, “Fine.” Peter squinted, surprised at how fast he agreed.

“Tell me about this town.” Peter pointed to the town exit gate he had crossed last, glancing at Richardess last before he turned toward the gate.

Peter, Helper 3, and Richardess walked near the forest, glancing at a rabbit at the corner of their view. Peter gave him two prompting gestures, raised brows and a nod.

Helper 3 smiled. “Dess talks better.” He was referring to Richardess, who had baggy, red eyes.

Richardess smiled nervously. She trembled, as Peter faced her and stood about 2 meters from her. “As a member of an association active here, I can say many things.” She broke into tears.

Peter wanted to give her and the Helpers a person they could trust. His feelings had changed about the Helpers being lost causes. "Richardess, I want to start by saying that I'm deeply sorry for what happened. I never wanted anyone to get hurt, and I know that you're in a lot of pain right now. I can see how much this has affected you, and I want you to know that I understand and I'm here for you." Richardess cried louder.

Looking and facing elsewhere, Helper 3 raised his head and listened to him, finding comfort for himself in his words.

Peter glanced at him and adjusted his eye contact and facing according to Helper 3’s movements. "Helper 3, I know that what happened has been difficult for all of us. I want you to know that I'm here for you too. If you ever want to talk about what you're feeling, I'm here to listen. It's okay to feel whatever you're feeling right now, and you don't have to go through this alone."

He became dizzy and touched his forehead. His stomach rumbled.

Helper 3 handed Peter his 5 pesos to buy food and eat. “Don’t waste it,” he said, referring to his offer of peace and the money, since the 5 pesos were a memento of Callou’s death.

Richardess wiped her tears and said, “Helper 3, let's support each other through this and come out stronger on the other side."

Helper 3 smiled and said, “I feel the same way.”

Richardess stared at Peter’s expectant expression and refrained from answering him. Peter suppressed a frown, trembling.

Helper 2 appeared out of his hiding place and said: “Good, I forgive you too, but know that I’m ready to stop you if you have any thoughts of removing all this. This precious life.”

“You know already,” Peter said steadily, taking a deep breath.

Helper 2 glanced in surprise for a moment, but he stopped and knew that Peter was referring to the proof that connected Callous’ death to a bomb, his body. “Yeah.” He had believed that Peter had killed Callous, but asking Richardess and the other dholes with her had confirmed him wrong. He was willing to believe that Sigurd had also passed away to a bomb; however, he had seen Peter killing Sigurd with his naked eyes.

He broke into tears. “Peter!” he shouted. “Peter! Why did we do it, Peter! Peter! Why! Why! Why!” He and the rest of the Helpers had attempted to kill Peter because they believed that he had killed Callous from the fact that he had killed Sigurd. Peter lived and killed Helper 1 and Helper 4 out of self-defense. He was free from blame in the death of Callous. Peter had killed Sigurd out of self-defense as well because of miscommunication between Peter and the Helpers.

Peter said, “I never wanted any of this to happen. Let's work together to find a way to move forward from this.”

After leaving to be alone, Peter felt overwhelmed and that he needed to read a book to make the world make sense. He weighed his ideas.

If he went to a library, he would most likely find useful books, but he was doubtful whether he could get access.

If he went to the zoo, he would find animals, truly. He lampooned that it was so obvious that the library had books and the zoo had animals to even mention it.

The possibility of getting access to a library was near impossible. He was living in a medieval world with magic; maybe, he could get the reward of access to a library if he won a magical tournament. He chuckled. He would throw rocks in a tournament against creative powerful mages like a lame beginner in an RPG video game. He burst out laughing. He jokingly felt that throwing himself off this bridge on which he walked was in line with logic.

In a goblin-dominated part of town, the human Peter went to a library and found out that he needed sponsorship from a goblin noble to read there, which meant it was exclusive. The library said the sponsorship was a formality, as they believed that humans visiting the town were inherently influential enough to get sponsorship easily. All human tourists who had gone to this part of town had goblin nobles subordinate to them to grant them access to exclusive facilities.

The library offered a reward in the form of a confirmation statement in an academic book: "Multiple historical and anthropological studies suggest that a significant portion of the goblin populace, as well as their clerical and secular leaders, held a worldview that positioned humans as superior. Even goblins who dismissed humans' influence in areas such as technology and warfare often still believed that humans were superior in areas such as intelligence and philosophy. While there may have been exceptions to this belief, such as goblins who held more egalitarian or anti-human views, the evidence suggests that the belief in human superiority was widely held across goblin society. This worldview may have been influenced by a variety of factors, including cultural contact and conflict with human societies, perceptions of human physical and mental abilities, and goblin social hierarchies that placed humans at the top. While the precise extent of this belief and its evolution over time remain subject to ongoing research and debate, the evidence suggests that it was a significant aspect of goblin culture and identity."

Peter looked for other libraries and found that the exclusive library was the only one. He realized that books were scarce in part of town. He tried to bring attention to the fact that he was a human being which the dholes worshipped and the goblins strongly admired. However, the libraries were strict around the formality.

The only goblin noble Peter knew was Ben, of whom he had grown suspicious.

However, he felt that if he failed to read a book within a few days, he would go insane.

He was nervous imagining Ben’s wide influence as a noble beyond his servants and guards and his enigmatic thoughts toward Peter’s previous emotional breakdown.

After his emotional breakdown in front of the stranger and potential business partner who decided his life and death, Ben, he felt like the world had invaded his privacy and was watching him.

He felt seen in a negative way.

His hands were trembling, and his heart wanted to burst out to release his anxiety that sought to compress him into a quivering mess.

Despite his anxiety, he forced himself to go to Ben, and the first action Ben took was to give Peter access to the library to read.

Ben appeared curt, but he was mindful of Peter’s anxiety to leave immediately.

Peter had almost had a panic attack, his fingers damp with sweat, his gaze shaking, and slightly rocking his head dizzily.

At the library, he took deep breaths and soon calmed down, although a part of him felt fear in the context of the library being an extension of Ben’s influence and control concerning his life.

He weakly got a book on kobolds and read it: “In the shadowy alleys and dimly lit taverns of the city, rumors abound of a band of kobold thieves. They are said to be the most skilled and daring thieves in all the land, able to slip past even the most vigilant guards and security measures.

“Kobolds are small, impish creatures known for their mischievous nature and magical abilities. They are often found in caves or underground tunnels, where they use their innate knowledge of stonework to construct intricate and labyrinthine homes.

“Despite their small size, kobolds are fierce fighters and can be quite dangerous when provoked. They are skilled with traps and snares, and often use their magic to confuse and confound their enemies.

“Kobolds are also known for their love of treasure and will often hoard coins, gems, and other valuable objects in their underground lairs. They are excellent miners and are able to extract rare metals and gems from even the most challenging of environments.

“In terms of appearance, kobolds are often depicted as small, scaly creatures with sharp claws and teeth. They are generally not considered to be attractive, but their cunning and intelligence more than make up for any lack of physical beauty.

“Despite their reputation as mischievous troublemakers, kobolds are also respected for their knowledge of magic and their ability to work with stone and metal. Many craftsmen and wizards seek out kobolds for their expertise in these areas.”

He stayed at an inn and struck the wall. “If I could stay here forever and find details of kobolds that extended these sparse descriptions. Where’s biology, zoology! Where’s my damned textbooks! I want to eat them alive—” He excused himself.

Peter felt at ease. “Books, hell yeah!”

He noticed that the books omitted bombs in the context of kobolds. “Was that kobold who killed Callous special? Part of a bigger plot?” He wanted to turn his mind into a goo and absorb all the information from the library. However, his brain was slow. He needed to meet the kobold societies to find the murderer of Callous and understood how they got the bomb and how it was made.

He invited the two Helpers to join him. Helper 3 was slow at talking, but he was fast at reading. He sped-read through all the books in a flash. He was magically making the books levitate and turning the pages. Helper 2 was good for finding specific words in blobs of text. Peter felt that he had employed two loyal and effective workers.

He read a book on dholes: "In the heart of the forest, there lived a tribe of dholes. They were a proud and fierce people, skilled hunters and warriors. Their language was like music, a melodic and complex series of whistles, clicks, and growls.

“One day, a young dhole named Kira wandered away from her tribe and stumbled upon a human village. She was fascinated by these strange creatures and their simple language, and she decided to stay and learn more about them.

“Over time, Kira became friends with a human boy named Lucas. They spent many days exploring the forest together, and Kira taught Lucas the language of the dholes.

“But when Kira's tribe discovered that she was spending time with humans, they were furious. They believed that humans were dangerous and untrustworthy, and they forbade Kira from ever seeing Lucas again.

“Kira was torn between her loyalty to her tribe and her love for Lucas. She knew that she could never abandon her people, but she also knew that Lucas was her true friend.

“In the end, Kira made a difficult decision. She left her tribe and joined Lucas in the human village. She knew that she would face many challenges and dangers, but she also knew that she would never regret her choice.

“And so, Kira and Lucas lived together in harmony, bridging the gap between their two worlds and proving that even the most unlikely friendships can endure.”

“‘Melodic and complex series of whistles, clicks, and growls’? I’ve been living with dholes and the only thing I’ve heard were shouts and human voices. This is false.” He turned the book around. “Oh, it’s a fiction book. So is that friendship, alas.” He realized that his close bond with the dholes was incredibly rare for humans.

Peter asked Helper 2 to find him a book that mentioned bombs.

Helper 2 was quick, taking several minutes to find a book with a cover and title so removed from the concept of bombs.

Peter read the part that mentioned about bombs: “Amidst the chaos of the bustling market, the scent of freshly cooked dhole meat wafted through the air. People jostled for space, eager to sample the delicacy. But little did they know that the meat was laced with an explosive substance. Suddenly, there was a deafening explosion, and the market was engulfed in flames.

"The perpetrator of the attack had been a disgruntled former employee of the local tavern, seeking revenge against his former boss. He had devised a clever way to sneak the explosive material into the meat, disguising it with various spices and seasonings."

“That doesn’t tell much,” Peter said, shaking his head. “But that’s a good idea for a mission.” He realized that the book mentioned “dhole meat.” He grabbed the book again and read one sentence, “Amidst the chaos of the bustling market, the scent of freshly cooked dhole meat wafted through the air.”

“What date was this?

“It’s 1332 right now. This was 10 years ago? Who wrote this? A human?

“No, stop thinking about it. I have to focus and cross out the items on my list. Not many books here on bombs clearly. Next item is ‘Richardess.’”

He visited Richardess’ accommodation and asked her, “Do you still feel like becoming a god?”

Richardess smiled. “Of course, I do. Who doesn’t? The world needs a god and who else but the most powerful? I saw that in you.”

Peter smiled. “What?” He remembered that he had been vague and keeping up appearances toward Richardess, which gave her a wrong perception. He realized that Life had been changing him so fast for him to keep track of how his demeanor impacted others.

Richardess raised her brows. “Huh?” She shook her head, choosing to rationalize it within the bounds of Peter being an impressive person. “Ah, I see, you’re trying to say something that I can’t get.”

Peter blinked multiple times. “The fact that you can tell is impressive enough,” he lied.

“Anyways, do you still remember when we first met?” He faked a knowing look.

“No.” Richardess frowned.

“When you said something about Matthew, John, and Shallow? You said it in a way that praised them. Why is that?” He raised his brow.

Richardess looked around. “Hmm, Matthew, John, and Shallow, or Helper 2, Helper 1, and Helper 4, were nobility in the federation of dhole tribes.”

Peter ignored “federation” and “dhole tribes.” “What else? Were they important in anything else?”

Richardess turned her head and stretched. “Matthew was a carpenter’s son. John was high-born. Shallow was a popular noble’s son.

“Matthew’s powers made him a part of the nobility. John and Shallow were close, which was why they merged.”

“What was the merging about?” he said.

Richardess was growing tired. “Can I answer that question tomorrow? It’s late.”

Frustrated, Peter remembered that most people slept on routine. “Okay.” He turned around and left.

Richardess sighed. “Is he really the one?”

Rather than maintaining Richardess’ perception of him, Peter cared more about gaining knowledge to be proactive and make plans.

Peter checked a list of items and read “100 kobolds.” He remembered the location of his fight against the kobolds where Callous died. He invited the Helpers for them to form a group and head there.

The Helpers declined. “I can forgive you, but that is too much,” Helper 2 said. They were coping with their grief concerning Callous’ death.

After sleeping, Peter left alone and headed to the location where Callous had passed away, finding a settlement of kobolds carrying wood and creating a humble amount of wooden, platformed structures: palisades, towers, storehouses, and two wells. Water buffaloes with kobold riders shuttled cargo to and fro between this small area and another by dragging it. He wanted to find out their motives and plans.

A kobold caught sight of him and began chasing him as more and more kobolds joined in the pursuit.

Peter yelled at the top of his lungs.

Kobold threw spears that Peter dodged at the expense of half of his energy.

Peter grabbed two rocks and returned fire.

The kobolds dodged efficiently, engaging their slim but strong bodies.

Peter ran and sighted a dhole. The dhole yelped and ran. Peter noticed it looked similar to the Alask dholes he had killed.

He glanced behind him and guessed the kobolds chasing him 15 in number.

He ran along a deceased dhole where the dhole who had run had been.

The kobolds stopped running, their energy depleted.

Peter had some energy left. He sat down and gazed at the blue sky. “This is tiring,” he said. “I need to do something hard but worthwhile.” He remembered the deceased Alask dhole, but he was too afraid of getting too close to the heart of the federation of dhole tribes and ending up dying.

He returned home to Helper 2 and Helper 3. “What other language do you guys speak?” he asked, scrutinizing their expressions and body language.

"Sharla,” Helper 3 said while Helper 2 stood cross-legged and the tip of his left arm rested on the counter and further to the middle. On his right, he had a raised brow and a widened eye, and on his left, he had a dull left eye with a frown on this side.

Peter rubbed his head and decided against learning the language Sharla. Stressed and needing fresh air, Peter loitered outside the town exit gate.

Meanwhile, a bard made her way past the town exit gate, wearing a white-dotted, red coif. She wore a long-sleeved white blouse with buttons and a collar. She wore puffy, loose-fitting blue pants. Her hair was tied into a bun with a knot. She held her flute, which she was playing. Its sound was isolated inside a bubble that surrounded her body, translucent. The bubble passed through the ground and the wide, thick builds of the male adventurers in her company.

The bard walked past Peter, who got a chance to hear her energizing flute music. Her music triggered nostalgia toward his favorite song, Radiohead’s Daily Mail. This song reminded him of the chaos of Earth, yet he wanted to hang out beside the convenience stores again, reinforcing his nostalgia.

Out of Peter’s sight, the dhole Helper 2 arrived next to the bard and her adventurer party. “Hello, I want to ask you some questions as an interviewer. The topic is ‘What do adventurers feel about their town?’.”

The word “town” prompted a glance from a goblin passerby. When he learned that Helper 2’s voice came from a dhole, he dismissed Helper 2. It was typical for goblins to look down on dholes’ concerns, which they misattributed to a less developed state that they had to overcome themselves, and discuss their concerns, which they misattributed to a more developed state. Some goblin authorities misattributed humans’ concerns to a state 100 times more developed than goblins. These three misattributions arose out of the popularity of a theoretical book on evolution with several human authors that mentions the strengths and weaknesses of different species. Though, the authors stated in the preface on the first edition of the book that the readers take note to fight prejudice through the lens of the study of species. However, the reach of this book was local to this town and, to some level, the neighboring towns.

A association of disillusioned town dholes and more politically active dholes from the tribes was fighting in favor of either the ban of this book or the strict control of all ideas ingoing and outgoing. This false dilemma was one manner from their intents to convince the local government.

This goblin passerby introduced himself to Helper 2, interrupting his interview, “Hello, I am Redlight Striker.” Helper 2 let the interview conclude and the adventurer party leave.

Helper 2 interjected, “Do you want to merge souls?”

Redlight Striker reeled his head in surprise. “Sorry what? he asked.

Ten meters away from each other but ignorant of each other’s presence, Peter and Helper 2 found themselves smiling. Helper 2 told Redlight Striker, “You’re a lone adventurer from the dungeon, which means you’re strong right? Can I merge with you, using your body?” He showed him a star that he held against its levitating to space.

Chapter 9
Redlight Striker tensed his gaze and said, “Explain this to me.”

Helper 2 clapped twice in approval and explained, “You get stronger, but I die.” He was lying partially.

Redlight Striker compared his goblin height to the trees’ ahead of him and the dhole Helper 2’s. “Have you read a book in your life?” he said, his voice curious and patient.

Helper 2 nodded. “I often find myself in the storehouses—” he said, about to explain all the places where he had been finding himself reading.

“I get it, I get it,” Redlight Striker said, noticing the human Peter strolling behind Helper 2.

“First human in two weeks that I’ve seen,“ Redlight Striker said, adopting a humble demeanor. “What brings you here?” He had changed his accent to that of the humans from the nearest town.

“Why would you guys even suggest bringing a human to this place?” Redlight Striker said, pointing at the dholes behind Peter. He was making an effort to sound formal by using “suggest.” However, his question could be more formal like “What is your rationale for recommending the presence of a human at this location?” The dholes Richardess and Helper 3 had authoritatively went next to Peter. Peter and these dholes raised a brow, sharing guardedness toward Redlight Striker in unison.

“This place,” Redlight Striker told Helper 2, taking out a blade that he pressed against Helper 2’s neck, “is good for merging, seeing that you have people you know here.” His gesture of placing a blade against Helper 2’s neck had been his way of agreeing with the merging. He had presumed that the dholes and the human were in a group with Helper 2 since only a few people went and loitered around the spot where he was standing.

Peter stared, trembling especially at the hands. The memory of embracing Helper 1 and Helper 4’s body and another of the rocks he had picked up with the intention to harm contrasted each other, yet connected to the sensation of his hands.

Redlight Striker sighed out of relief and removed his blade from Helper 2. He lay down facing away from and beside the standing Helper 2, making thrice the effort Peter had made to match the much shorter height of the dholes. He made seemingly humble and respectful gestures to challenge the dholes and see if they could keep up with his behavior and maintain finesse and tact.

A drizzle passed over them. They promptly decided to move under the trees. Redlight Striker yawned, saying “Goodbye” casually, while mumbling excitedly about resting inside on a bed in rainy weather. Peter, Helper 2, Helper 3, and Richardess lost their tension.

Redlight Striker had left a note saying to come here at the same time tomorrow.

Richardess sighed out of relief. “Peter, what are your questions?” she said too softly for Peter to hear. Her faith in Peter and subsequent energy for a round of questions had revived.

Peter felt like sighing too, but he restrained himself. “Where did Redlight Striker go?” he asked Helper 2. Richardess wanted to repeat herself, but she was waiting for a pause.

“Back to the dungeon,” Helper 3 answered. “He’s grinding slowly against the cave’s magical elements.”

Peter had wanted to ask Richardess questions, but Richardess had left. Yet, Peter felt optimistic. “Oh, good, Helper 3,” he said. “Helper 2, Helper 3, so what was the emerging?” He was so giddy he accidentally said “emerging” instead of merging.

“Merging?” Helper 2 said, “Peter, it’s really hard to dislike something as ignorant as you.” Peter raised a brow at Helper 2’s mention of “something.”

“Peter, the dholes tribes,” Helper 2 continued, “are scattered. The deaths of 5 dhole warriors from the Alask tribe messily led to a border clash against our tribe that yielded 30 deaths. Now, the kobolds are taking advantage of this and pushing their way into our territory. The humans are feigning goodness by being non-participants, and the goblins are dismissing it for now since it’s only in the ‘trash territory.’”

“What’s your tribe?” Peter asked with composure, his tense breath conveying his inward distress and shock.

“Even that?” Helper 2 said with disappointment, conveying that Peter was ignorant of the name of the tribe of Helper 1, Helper 2, Helper 3, Helper 4, Richardess, and even Peter's closest friend, Callous. “Peter, you see now why we’re so frustrated? I thought you knew about the conflict between the tribes already. It was the worst part since your arrival here in dholes’ land.” He remembered clearly the faces of the Alask dholes who blamed his tribe for the death of the dholes for which Peter had been at fault.

Sigurd, Helper 1, Helper 4, Callous, Helper 2, and Helper 3 had known that Peter had been at fault. Of these, the first four had passed away, and Peter had killed the first three in self-defense. His mice told him. Dhole society had an interdependent relationship with talking mice. Mice acted as resourceful intelligence, as they turned themselves invisible, inserted themselves in tiny spaces, spoke quickly, and moved quickly. Hundreds and hundreds of mice monitored Peter daily, changing shifts rapidly, updating the Helpers on his status. The Helpers struggled with communicating themselves because they relied on the mice too much, which had led to Peter’s killing in self-defense.

“Oltso,” Richardess said, too excited to let Helper 2 answer the simple question “What’s your tribe?”.

In a state of excitement, Peter made an exaggerated smirk to compose his features. “Okay, that makes absolute sense now. Sorry I was ignorant about it.” He had become excited after seeing Richardess’ excitement and hearing about the dholes, feeling that he was in a story, game, and was traveling around in an exciting life.

Helper 2 left first, intending to visit the parks where statues depicting nobles stood and gaze at the treant within the town. “I’m going treant-gazing,” he said. “Treant-gazing” was a phrase too common to be Helper 2’s trigger for Sigurd’s death. Peter cursed under his breath after hearing “treant-gazing” again. He remembered and delved into traumatic memories. He had killed Sigurd in self-defense in front of the Helpers and Callous. He feared treants in the context of the wild, forest treant which he had seen give Helper 1 newfound powers, and the subsequent merging of Helper 4’s soul with Helper 1’s soul and body. Helper 1’s gaining of magic power and Helper 4’s happy death and merging had terrified him. These events were too sudden for him at the time who had arrived in this world a few days prior. When he thought of Sigurd, Helper 1, and Helper 4, he remembered these fears. However, Helper 1 was deceased along with the lastly renamed Helper 4. The word “treant-gazing” had made him replay these deaths. Finally, despite the fact that these traumatic memories had stopped being sources of anguish, stopped, too exhausted to continue.

Observing that the group had finished their minute of contemplative silence, Helper 3 suggested for the group to check the dungeon. Cleared of their negative emotions, the others were receptive and agreed. Peter and the Helpers began to walk to the dungeon.

Meanwhile, Richardess said “hmm” to herself, feeling that she understood Peter’s irritation. She thought wrongly that Peter was afraid of treants in general. Throwing a glance at her and Helpers, Peter smiled, his gaze strong and his gait masterful.

Peter gave a friendly gesture of resting his hand on Helper 3, but Helper 3 grew annoyed and repeated, “Remove it. Your hand is heavy.” He had a preference for physical privacy. Peter felt awkward and jerked his hand away.

Helper 3 pointed toward a firm-surfaced boulder. “Sit there,” he said. “The ground is itchy, and the soft beds at the palace are itchy.” Helper 2’s departure made him feel more talkative. The fewer the people in the group, the more talkative he had felt. He felt emasculated due to social pressure. The talented mage Helper 2 had a higher social status in dhole society compared to Helper 2. Callous was wealthier than he was. He had lost his more confident friend Helper 4, on whom he had felt dependent for his persuasiveness. The goblins were dismissive and discriminatory toward him. These tensions gave rise to embitterment. Peter’s disruptive behavior and actions had been exacerbating this embitterment. He felt compelled him to show force when alone with Peter as a declaration for him to stay put and sit still like dung. The goblin noble Ben had used the anti-dhole slur “dung” against him. He felt like he wanted to provoke Peter to make a point against his weakness and tendency toward violent tantrums to get his way. As one of the Helpers, he was good at controlling their expressions, but when it came to his emotions and choices, he was like anybody else.

Peter raised a brow at the dhole Helper 3’s mention of “palace,” whence dhole-related bubbly questions sprouted toward Helper 3. He redirected them toward Richardess instead. “Richardess, do you know about the merging they were talking about?” he asked.

Richardess nodded with a smile, which in turn made Peter smile. “I’ll delve into merging, is that okay?” she said.

“So be it.” Peter felt that Richardess’ smile grew extremely, which in turn made him remember the mention of “dhole meat,” which was an extreme revelation for Peter, in the book he had read at the library.

Meanwhile, Helper 3 moaned in relief, as he pressed the bottom of his dhole head on the surface of the large boulder. “I have no rage against this, only pure joy,” he said with a calm expression, controlling his fingers to move individually. A burst of fire formed on the tips of his fingers, triggering a physical reaction from Peter.

“Merging is part of a range of techniques—” Richardess stopped herself, worried after seeing Peter’s anxiety. Peter’s eyes shifted from Helper 3 to a scree of stones out of habit. These stones were light enough to throw and heavy enough to kill. Helper 3 looked at him and yawned, pressing the tip of his fingers against the boulder beneath him. The boulder burst into flames, and it melted away. However, Helper 3 was fine, standing up and stepping out of the flames with a bitter glare. “Peter, stop shaking your hands.” he said. Peter had been shaking his callused hands that had endured the scraping of rocks whenever Peter had used them to throw and kill.

Peter made an effort to calm his hands. He remembered that Callous, Sigurd, and the Helpers had hidden many secrets and had shown a collective habit of suddenly revealing them and terrorizing Peter. He speculated that their revelations of terror were to vie for dominance and that Peter’s flexibility through his spontaneous acts of killing Sigurd, Helper 1, and Helper 4 in self-defense out of fear and miscommunication had been outside of their expectations. Feeling that his speculation was too extreme, Peter leaned back on his memory of Helper 3 and Helper 4’s childlike attitudes when they had asked for money from Callous, and his current reconciled relationship with them in this town.

When a bard and her adventurer party left the adventurer dungeon behind Helper 3, the bard saw the stone and pointed at Peter. Peter had a rock in his hand, as the tension between him and Helper 3 had escalated.

The bard aimed her flute, and a dragon-shaped image made out of water appeared above her, the overhang of the cave entrance, piercing inside its belly. Peter ran, as the bard tossed her flute to the ground, the floating bubble around her body dispersing into a scent of flowers. By waving and closing both her open hands, the bard magically caused the image to gravitated into a compressed state shaped like a spear. She shouted “Viva!” and this spear-shaped image shot at Peter.

Peter felt a healing power remove his calluse and turn his body into a humanoid hawk. He looked around himself. “What am I?” he asked. The spear-shaped image had hit Peter like a paper glider and caused his hawk transformation. “What is this?” His voice was hoarse, high-pitched, and piercing like a hawk’s. He got an urge to make a toothed grin in confusion, but he had lost the feeling of his teeth.

The bard nodded and left.

His head turned askew, his wings tensly raised in front of himself, Peter stared at her alongside Helper 3 and Richardess as the bard left ahead of her adventurer party full of giant, muscular men.

Peter forced a sociable, enthusiastic demeanor, his voice letting out a rare tremble.

Peter’s body transformed back into a human, as the bard snapped her finger. Peter felt fine, but her action had displaced his thoughts and tension with Helper 3. Relieved to be back in his human form, he glanced at Helper 3 with confusion.

To find stability, Peter referred to his hands, expecting to find his calluses. However, his calluses that had defined his life in this new world were gone. He felt a pang of fear, feeling that the sense of his past efforts and struggle were fading away. He looked at Helper 3 again to find stability. A fleeting expression of derision marking his face, Helper 3 shifted his body toward Peter, gave him the usual child-like, stone-faced expression, and asked, “Who was that?” Disappointed, Peter listened to Helper 3’s voice and found his attention drifting to his frustrated accumulation of stability.

The tip of a standing treant popped up over the buildings in the distance, tossing a sense of stability toward Peter who grabbed it and embraced it until he felt a cloned feeling of home. This feeling of home enabled Peter to see the gap between the extremity of joy of home and the extremity of his traumatic life here in this different world. The image of Helper 3’s derisive expression repeatedly asserted itself in his head. He felt an impulse beat at him, so intense, urging him to act on it and follow through with his frustration.

He grabbed a rock and threw at Helper 3, screaming “You confusing motherfucker!”

Helper 3 raised his hands, burning the rock.

Peter tossed more rocks as Helper 3 stepped around the sloping terrain below him acrobatically and blocked the rocks efficiently.

Helper 3 yawned.

Peter felt enraged and grabbed the biggest stone he could find and threw it, failing miserability. The stone fell only around 12 inches in front of him.

Peter screamed in frustration. He ran and grabbed more stones, throwing them.

Richardess had been crying and running toward Helper 2 to alert him of Peter’s sudden change of behavior.

Peter roared, and one of his rocks hit Helper 3 on the nose, making him fall.

Helper 3’s embittered eyes turned luminous red, and his hands looked like they were melting. Overuse of his fire magic had this cost. He stood up, but Peter was in front of me, grabbing him by the neck and stuffing his mouth with gravel.

Peter screamed and banged Helper 3 on both sides of the head, intentionally knocking him out.

Tears and mucus streaming below his nose, Peter let out a sigh of relief and stated, "I finally was able to say my heart. Thank you," after engaging in violent behavior to express his emotions. He attributed this behavior to past repeated traumatic, violent experiences and a shared vulnerability and camaraderie with Helper 3. Peter had previously used a range of healthy coping mechanisms, but negative experiences have made it difficult for him to regulate his emotions healthily. He had resorted to maladaptive coping strategies, such as using violence as a way to regulate his emotions.

He let out an apathetic voice, “Am I right?” He was referring to his behavior, decisions, and actions. He chuckled. “Of course not!” He cried and hugged the Helper 3, who had lost consciousness. “I’m sorry.” He felt like he should stop living. He burst into laughter. “What the fuck! Haha!” He punched the ground and showed a look of innocent pain. He burst into manic laughter as tears dripped down his chin, falling onto Helper 3’s clothes.

“I’m sorry, Helper 3, Helper 1, Helper 4, Helper 2, Callous, Sigurd. I can’t do it anymore.” He looked at the treant. “Maybe that’s a good place to start.” He was communicating his intention to experiment with dying to the treant.

As he walked, he saw Richardess and Helper 2 running at him and panting.

Recognizing that Peter was passively depressed, Helper 2 said instead of killing him with magic: "Pete, I'm here to help you. Let's talk about what's going on and how we can work together to find a solution. Can you take a deep breath and tell me what's been bothering you?" He felt that using Callous’ way of talking was the epitome of efficacy for de-escalation.

Peter recognized Callous’ way with words and stopped walking. He compared Helper 3 to Helper 2 and felt that Helper 2 was making an effort to be helpful and communicative. He gave Helper 2 a polite smile of approval, which in turn made Helper 2 and Richardess tense up. “Alright,” Peter said. He closed his hands from time to time, revealing his urge to hold something.

An orchestra burst into chorus in Peter’s head as a toothed grin formed on his face. He opened his mouth.

Richardess intervened and advanced ahead of Helper 2: “I don’t care what they told you. You matter. You are important and whatever you’re going through is something special designed for you because you can handle it.

"Remember, the cleric Loto was striving to serve the church community, yet hardly anyone believed in him. He decided to take matters into his own hands and fund his first sermon himself. With a team by his side, he recorded his sermons for years before gaining recognition and dedicated his utmost efforts to spreading the word of the gods.

“I know it feels difficult. Believe me, you’re probably making it harder on yourself than it should be. Breathe. Take your time. Try again. Reach out. Ask for help.

“But don’t give up.

“Farewell.” She walked away to give Peter space, feeling that her words were enough.

Peter nodded, his eyes blinking thoughtfully. An image of Richardess’ drugged appearance during his first visit to her home and her awkward departure gave him a mood of cherishable awkwardness, which was a pleasant divergence from his extremely tense state.

Helper 2 woke Helper 3 up by healing him after healing him for an hour.

Peter had fallen asleep beside the boulder which Helper 3 had melted. Richardess reached out to her association nearby for help in carrying Peter. Her association agreed to hand her an old wooden wagon alongside a talented dhole mage. The association were quick, afraid that Peter would wake up. Richardness had been communicating over the invisible mice who had an interdependent relationship with dholes as a part of one society.

Helper 2 and Richardess told Helper 3 to forget.

Peter woke up, feeling groggy, hearing familiar voices. The fact that he had heard the voices in his first fight, the one against the Alask dholes, had slipped and was still out of his conscious mind. He felt terror at images of moving with his feeble legs and tripping in a fight against dholes in a waking dream. He fell asleep.

He woke up again, feeling his heart pounding and eyes welling up, but he had forgotten his dream.

He was experiencing delayed anxiety from his first fight.

A sense of humanity was returning to him.

He attributed his tears to the happiness of waking up with a clear mind.

He scanned his surroundings on the wooden wagon.

Peter gasped, feeling that the images, the wording, and the mage’s clothes were ominous.

Chapter 10
Magical Images shaped like perched birds were a meter set aboveground on both sides of the talented mage Richardess had employed. They had an red outline, and sparse red dots interspersed them with the rest of the inner area being empty. On closer inspection, the outline and dots’ redness resembled tongues of fire gravitating toward their center to form spherical dots.

The talented mage wore a carpet-like heavy textile robe that had many rectangular layers of lines that spread and grew in size from the middle acting as texture and a reddish pink and dark brown artwork depicting a lamp with handles that curve inward toward its center, a white long-sleeve shirt with a shawl collar with a superimposing belt around his waist, a black badge with words woven into it, and a simple green loincloth. His fashion and attire contrasted with the rainy and tropically hot weather of this land and the people therein. His face looked smooth and supple. It had natural oil, but besides that, it was magically dry of sweat. His torso posture was natural and easy on the eyes despite his heavy, weather-mismatched clothes.

The wrinkles of the brown skin of the talented mage's face were clear, even from a distance. He transformed into the first human who had come close to Peter before Peter had woken up. He shifted from his delighted expression to a stern one and said, “I should really be thanking you.” He was sitting with one leg up and resting ahead of him and on the surface where he sat, sliding the nail of his index finger into the nail of his pinky toe from side to side as a way to soothe himself. He had developed this habit initially to remove dirt from his toenails. It progressed to a soothing mannerism like staring where a clock had been and feeling relief as if the clock was there.

The talented human mage said: “Your contributions have been instrumental in achieving our goals. Please accept my sincere gratitude.” His back was turned to Peter. He was too casual and relaxed to bother locking eyes with Peter in a staring contest. He was treating Peter with familiarity which had developed throughout Richardess’ networking with him concerning Peter. This familiarity which sprouted plenty of enjoyment made him feel thankful toward Peter.

The human Peter gasped, feeling that the captivating images beside the mage, his formal wording, extravagant clothes, charismatic temperament, good posture, and unique behavior were ominous.

Peter grinned, feeling like meeting people since his cheerful awakening. “Hiya!”

The mage raised his brows slightly out of surprise, but he had been expecting random behavior from Peter. He matched his energy and said, “Good afternoon, Peter. It's a pleasure to see you.” glancing at Peter with a lovely smile.

He stood up and walked away casually, only desiring a neutral acquaintanceship with Peter as a part of his agenda and that of the association to which he and Richardess belonged.

“You and him have crossed paths before, Peter,” he said, answering an imaginary question.

Peter listened to him and scrutinized the meaning behind the words; however, he failed to find anything of use to him.

Peter stared at a white flower where the mage had been. He remembered when he had been eating fruits before climbing a hill to see a treant with Callous and the rest to hear Sigurd’s request for him to stop smacking his lips while Peter was looking at this species of flower.

The talented mage snapped his fingers, and the magical. Peter felt a pang of fear, as the bard who had transformed him into a hawk had snapped her fingers to restore him into a human.

To cope, Peter daydreamed about having a discussion with Sigurd about planes and dogs and cats at a formal party. In this daydream, after their discussion, Peter's enthusiastic and charismatic voice chimed in, "Hey, this is really nice, but can I ask you a question?" His voice became lighter, well-spoken, "Yeah, you know, it's been kinda weird seeing that you're still here." The tone then shifted to a more thoughtful and contemplative one as the speaker continued, "I mean, I guess you're not here, just here..."

A giggle followed, as Peter said in a casual, higher-pitched tone, "Well, I don't know. Present sense." His tone then turned somewhat careful, "I have every..." before becoming honest and vulnerable, but still composed in a dismissive manner, "It doesn't really matter." His voice then returned to a guarded tone, "It's just..."

A heartfelt, honest tone followed as Peter revealed, "I've been seeing you." His voice then shifted back to a casually awkward, easygoing tone and became slightly lower-pitched as they continued, "Or I mean, just now. Of course. Maybe, if I had a second chance, maybe I would do something different." He chuckled.

The tone turned somewhat apathetic as Peter continued, "I mean, everybody wants that, but I don't know." His voice then became partly guarded and vulnerable, "Are, are you going to say something because, uh..." before becoming honest and simple, "I feel that maybe. Maybe there's something wrong with me... thinking that. T-thinking this... thinking this is— This, this, this. All of this. It's weird."

Sigurd was staring at him and kept a guarded posture, leaving Peter open-mouthed.

Peter broke out of his reverie and glanced between Richardess, Helper 2, Helper 3, the mage in the distance, and the wooden wagon where he was lying down. A mango tree stood behind them, their leaves stretching over them, and mangoes were scattered on the ground below it.

“What’s going on?” Peter asked.

The dhole Richardess was arranging fruits on the wagon. “We’re fixing spirit fruits for the next banquet,” she said, staring at Peter’s human legs absentmindedly.

Peter remembered the banquet and the formal party setting of his daydream and asked, “When are we going?”

“As soon as we can, if possible,” Richardess said. She handed Peter a fruit.

Helper 2 repeated what Richardess had said, but used formal wording to reinforce the message to Peter.

Peter made an effort to eat the fruit Richardess handed him quietly and felt compelled to ask, “What’s merging?” He had an itching feeling that had become too irritating to bear toward the enigma of the merging.

Helper 2 had been staring at a water pouch lying on the edge of a wagon. He glanced between Peter and the pouch. “I don’t know anything about the merging, but I know that you don’t do it unless you’re sure that the person you’re doing it with is special.” He gulped, feeling thirsty; however, he behaved against relieving his thirst as a part of his habit of disciplining himself to be patient and calm.

The dhole Richardess bowed piously in front of Peter’s legs. “I can merge with you if you want.” She admired his abilities and leadership qualities since the kobold skirmish where Peter had won. Her desire to experience divinity, as evidenced by her first statement to Peter, “Let us become like gods,” manifested as religious belief toward the closest human she knew, Peter. She felt a sense of worship toward humans, who exerted influence and projected power in a global scale. She felt that merging with Peter was the same as achieving her dream to experience divinity. She had hidden her emotions well and been acting casually intimate toward Peter.

Peter said, sitting up, “What? Why would you do something like that?”

“Well, I've been searching for something more meaningful in my life and I found it in you.”

Peter felt shocked, knowing that merging included the bodily death of the initiator. However, Richardess was willing to lose her body and transfer her soul to be one with him. Peter imagined Richardess being in his body, and seeing his thoughts and emotions, and, talking through Peter’s mouth with her voice as an individual. Peter felt conflicted.

Peter found a dialogue option in his head that felt reparative: “But what about your association? What about the way you’ve always done things?”

Helper 2 gave Richardess and Peter a cold look, his thoughts circulating with ideas on how stop them from talking anymore. Their discussions were outside of his knowledge and expertise, which made him feel like Peter along with Richardess might go off the deep end while he stood there with a stupid look.

“I understand that you might not agree with my decision, but I hope you can respect it,” Richardess said.

Peter said, “Respect it? How can I respect a decision that goes against everything I stand for?”

Feeling stumped, Helper 2 waited for Peter to say something familiar to him, glancing at Helper 3 with a concerned look. He moved next to Richardess discreetly.

Richardess said, “Peter, please don't use what-aboutism to try and discredit my decision. This is about me and my relationship with you.”

Peter said, “What-aboutism? I'm not using that. I just think you're throwing away everything Life has taught you.” He got off the wagon.

Helper 3 was standing out of earshot, too stressed and frustrated to look at Peter. Helper 2 and Richardess had dismissed his desire to put Peter down for good.

Richardess said, “Peter, you're trying to deflect from the fact that you're not respecting my decision by bringing up my association. I love my association, but my faith in you doesn't negate them. It just adds to my life.”

“I just don't understand why you would choose this path,” Peter said.

“It's okay if you don't understand. All I ask is that you try to respect my decision and support me in it.”

“I'll try. But it's going to be difficult.”

“I understand that, but I'm willing to have those difficult conversations with you. And I hope that one day you can see the positive changes in my life because of my faith.”

Peter felt a prickly sensation on the skin of his hands, as his hands glowed.

Helper 2 turned away from Peter, led Richardess away, accelerated, and shouted, “Helper 3!”

Helper 3 stood up with a disgruntled look, but he saw Helper 2’s exasperated face and the bright, eye-piercing glow of Peter’s hands and shouted back, “Hey, hey, hey! Get out! Come here!”

Helper 2 and Helper 3 repeated their shouts until they stood face to face.

“What happened?” Helper 3 asked, sweating.

“He’s still there, standing still,” Helper 2 said. “What is he doing?”

Richardess looked confused. “Was there something? Is that problematic?” She pointed toward Peter’s glow.

Helper 2 looked at her pious expression for a few seconds and nodded discreetly.

Peter screamed as the glow hurt his eyes. He closed his eyes and shook his hands. A blast of white fire struck the tree, and the tree began to burn. More blasts of fires flew in random directions from his hands like drill shavings, obeying gravity and falling nearby and in the distance. Peter cried. “What’s going on with me!”

Peter turned into a 40-meter giant human briefly, a sudden displacement of hot, humid air molecules creating a shockwave. He accidentally swiped the mango tree which had shaded him off its roots. A bunch of mangoes from the tree flew, landed, and bounced like stones thrown on water, after their stems snapped apart. Some of the mangoes exploded into sludge upon impact with rock, due to over-ripeness, due to awkward landings, or a combination of these factors. Peter’s instantaneous growth and transformation caused his transformed right foot to press down against the wagon and crush it and the spirit fruits thereon. Weighty, compacted soil became brittle like thin ice under Peter’s feet, forming itself in subservience to accommodate them. His cavernous shadow made the hearts of his onlookers tremble like an accelerated overworked mechanical clock The shockwave which he had caused caused strong, hot, humid gusts of wind to rush in and fill the vacuum, sweeping everything in its path. He reverted into a human. His sudden shrinking and restoration made his body jerk backward and fall like a baby taking their first step, making a tinily cute, flat, fluffy, puffy, muffled noise upon impact. The meditative, contemplative dripping pulp of a fractured mango still attached to its stem on the fallen tree contrasted with the destruction and Peter’s laughable fall.

“Groah!”

Peter groaned noisly as the glow turned his hands white like freshly fallen snow under a neon light. This whitening transformation progressed past his hand to his forearms.

He quivered. “No, no! No!” He flailed around like his body was a ragdoll.

Peter’s whole body turned luminous white, and he leviatated upward, his arms raised at the sides.

Richardess pointed, and Peter looked around slowly. The feeling of his mouth was lost, and his desire to scream was dissatisfied.

In a haze, Peter remarked, “I am a god now, I have been granted immense power and abilities to protect and guide all living beings."

Richardess screamed as Peter abruptly pointed his right hand to the left and his left hand toward her.

Richardess turned into 19 humanoid animals: a hawk first, then a bear, then a crocodile, then a fish, then a 3-meter-tall treant, then a male golem, then a female goblin, then a hobgoblin, then a snake, then a domestic dog, then a sparrow bird, then a magpie bird, then a cheetah, then a tiger, then a mouse, then a lynx, then a wolf, and finally a black panther.

Peter fell to the ground, and he and Richardess reverted to their normal human form with skin tones instead of luminous white. Peter’s glow disappeared, and he lost consciousness, falling like a slide whistle.

The faces of the dholes Richardess and Helper 3 were those of euphoria. Helper 3 had lived his life apathetically, but he was inwardly jealous and envious of those who had succeeded above him. However, Helper 3 felt compelled to celebrate at the experience of seeing a godlike being. Richardess confirmed her biased perception of Peter, retexturing and reinventing her beliefs. She saw Peter as beyond the humans who she already worshipped. She saw Peter as a god above gods.

Helper 2 felt depressed like he was seeing Helper 1, Helper 4, and Sigurd die again in front of him while he stood there exposed to the elements.

Peter's magical power source had undergone a recalibration process, which had caused a temporary violent reaction due to the adjustments made to its speed and settings. The purpose of this recalibration had been to fix an issue that had caused the power source to become idle and dormant.

When Peter woke up hours later past midnight, Helper 2 handed him fruits and water to replenish his energy.

Peter used 1 peso from Helper 3’s 5 pesos to take accomodation at an inn. He counted four and a half days since his arrival in this different world from Earth. He stayed awake and relaxed for hours before he fell asleep again, his brain and body exhausted.

Peter grabbed a piece of stick and bit it to alleviate his boredom, tucking himself in the corner and leaning his legs on the wall. He briefly lay down with head facing down and with a pillow below his chest and propping his head up to help regulate temperature and manage his breathing easier. He switched to lying down with his head and back on the firm floor with legs bent at the knees and resting on the firm surface of his bed. He was very flexible and adaptible to lying and sitting positions, using anything and adjusting often to match his comfort and sleep needs. His muscular and healthy body made this easier.

“I don't, I don't, I don't. It's not necessarily, it's not necessary to. I can just literally do one thing for the rest of my life. I could do one thing for the rest of my life. I don't have to. It's not necessary for me to. It's not necessary for anybody, for a human being. You can literally do one thing for the rest of your life and you still be alive. I... It's crazy. I... It feels like all the things that I cared about, that I was, didn't matter, and I don't know what to say about that.

“Look, what was the point of feeling so scared? I... Caring so much about things, but like that was the only thing I knew, you know, that was my world. And now that time has passed and I've gone through so many things, now I feel like the only thing time has taught me is that even if I know so much right now...”

He talked for 10 more minutes, getting his concerns out in the open.

He listened to a drongo-cuckoo bird from outside, mindfully thinking about his memories.

He grabbed a fruit from a pile of crushed fruits on the floor. Helper 2 and Rebecca had given these spirit fruits from the wagon he had crushed in his brief giant form to avoid wastage. He ate these fruits, getting a whiff like freshly cut wood.

Feeling adventurous, the human Peter went outside.

The footsteps of goblin adventurers marching toward the adventurer dungeon made him feel the order of the town. The colorful clothes of the densely peoples, dholes and goblins, made him feel that each of them had plenty of wild ideas to share about the world. The abundance of domesticated animals such as water buffaloes gave him a scene of scale and hierarchy that contrasted the wildness of the ideas he felt the peoples had. The magical abundance of humongous statues interspersed in markets, churches, and public parks albeit with expensive entrance fees filled him with a sense of scale that gave the town a complex mood of interconnectedness and surveillance. The highly dense population pushed an agenda of family-centered collectivism onto the nobles completed this complex mood. The 100-meter-tall treant, a dominant source of renewable energy, added an atmospheric touch of environmental mysticism that contributed to the peoples’ adherence against wastage and degradation. Finally, the town imbued Peter as a local consciousness that valued diversity, creativity, tradition, grandeur, interconnectedness, collectivism, and environmentalism.

The human Peter sighed in relief.

He looked at a group of goblin children playing. Even after all his suffering, he knew he was against becoming a ignorant child again. However, part of him wished he could be a child and an adult, so he could look at children and his ignorant past self from four and a half days ago when he had just entered this different world with understanding.

Strutting out from the midst of the children, a sagely human with a strong gait and a lanyard around his neck blamed, “You killed me, Helper 1, and Helper 4.” Peter remembered a key attached to a lanyard around this sagely human’s neck, but the key was gone.

“Sigurd?” Peter cried out.

Sigurd’s voice was weak, and his appearance looked twice as sagely as before. His dhole body had changed into a human body. “Peter, have you ensured that you have finished your serving of Helper 1 and Helper 2 thoroughly?” He raised a mechanical pistol and shot at Peter.

Peter shouted as Sigurd coughed, a black crab-like creature the size of a dog falling out with a splash of black liquid. The creature writhed upside-down.

Peter thought he would puke, but he was used to graphic scenes. He ran off, taking a turn around a corner and dodging crowds of passersby.

The crowds of goblin and dhole passersby screamed, gesturing at Sigurd and the crab.

A group of naked goblins wearing loinclothes emerged from the crowd near Sigurd and pointed their fingers at Sigurd. A deep boom similar to the twisting and crashing of bone erupted from their fingers toward Sigurd.

Sigurd groaned and fell to his knees, his eyes turning dim and his posture turning still.

The bullet Sigurd shot had hit Peter on the shoulder.

Peter gasped and panted, falling to his knees. “I’m dying...?”

Peter wanted to scream, but he carefully lay down with his head on the firm ground with legs resting on a stone bench to put his body in a crucially more comfortable position to sustain his lifted arms. He consciously made his hands glow. “Heal!” Raising his arms until his front shoulders muscles ached, he demanded magic power source to heal him. After a few pang-separated hazy moments, the white glow of his hands turned green, and he healed himself fast. Only the blood that he had lost remained on his clothes and the ground below him behind him.

Sigurd ran and dashed where Peter had been.

Sigurd’s open attack got the attention of 10 humans, 200 goblins, and 50 dholes who were willing to fight him.

Chapter 11
A male human with a strong gait stared at a light that was passing through a bar circular gap. He was wriggling his left hand habitually to stretch it. Through each movement of his left hand, he communicated to a bunch of bees and ordered them to zoom and strike Sigurd.

A female human with a plump figure and earing on only one ear sat on a stool and stretched her arms in a dance as weak thunder flew at Sigurd.

A man with a long beard the reached his bosom glanced at a sword and cut his beard. Cutting his beard in this way made the skin on his targets’ faces become chapped and brittle like bread crumbs and fall away.

A boy in a tower tapped against a horse’s skin, and a magical wave rippled through it. This wave shifted from red, green, and blue. The magical wave flew toward Sigurd. The wave made those it hit hallucinate and see toys the size of the tallest mountains emerging from the earth.

A girl in a den holding bananas placed one of them on her lap, and she pretended to throw a tantrum. The banana on her lap flew and levitated into the air. This set of actions made her targets’ throats become itchy.

A man put two women on his lap and sipped an acidic drink, making him burp. These set of actions caused the muscles of his targets’ faces to become numb and paralyzed.

A man put two candles down and said an incantation: “Let there be angels above us. Let there be screams above our calls. Let us become like angels ourselves.” This set of actions caused his targets to feel a brain itchiness that weakened their logic.

A bunch of bees, a magical wave, and weak thunder struck Sigurd, while the skin on his face fell away. His facial muscles became paralyzed, forcing him to be stone-faced. His throat and brain felt itchy. He fell and hallucinated, seeing toys the size of the tallest mountains emerging from the earth.

Sigurd screamed in rage. “Peter!”

A goblin from behind made him lose consciousness with a powerful swipe of his dense club. Sigurd believed that Peter had killed him, Helper 1, and Helper 4 out of an evil heart. The key attached to the lanyard around Sigurd’s neck had disappeared when Peter had killed him in self-defense. This disappearance had caused him to return to life as a human.

Meanwhile, Peter shot a sweeping appraisive glance toward the adventurer-catered vendor stalls around him. He saw magic items. He remembered the dhole who had offered him to help disarm the dholes, especially her mention of “a magic item that will make the dholes lose their ability to walk.”

He was ignoring the dholes casting gazes full of admiration toward him and the fact that he had become a magical being.

While studying the scenery around him like a traveler, his mind drifted, letting him juggle with ideas.

If he stopped to think about the fact that he became a magical being, he felt he would become depressed due to feeling confused for too long.

If he stopped to think about his life here, he felt he would become an emotional wreck.

If he stopped to imagine himself becoming a person who could predict the future, he felt he would become calm momentarily.

He stopped to imagine all of these thoughts vividly. Hours passed, and it became morning. He was hiding in a corner.

Peter put on a hood and went to the adventurer dungeon to test his abilities as a way to destress. He hated feeling like the mouse in a game of cat and mouse.

He held his rock to calm himself first before consciously making his hands glow. It flickered out after a moment. He repeated this over a hundred times, taking 15 minutes to make it stay on longer than 10 seconds like getting a momentum while sawing for the first time.

An undead ostrich was tweaking in front of him, jerking back and forth and gurgling.

He shot a ball of white fire toward the ostrich.

The ostrich fell and became ashes.

Peter felt guilty.

He felt like an imposter.

Although he had gained magical powers, Peter still felt a sense of impending doom and mortality, as if he was constantly waiting for something terrible to happen. He felt that his trauma and his ability to throw stones well as a weapon had been the only ones dictating his life. However, now, he had magic power, but he was afraid his magic power would dictate his life the same way his trauma did.

Even he killed Sigurd, Helper 1, and Helper 4 in self-defense, killing the undead ostrich made him anxious and terrified, as images of the word “murderer” filled his mind and influenced his thoughts.

He wondered if he deserved to have magic power. He felt that he would truly become a murderer if he let himself use his new magic. He wanted to meet a powerful magician, but the dhole mage Helper 2 was too close to his memories. He felt like slowly pushing the people who were there at the scenes of his traumatic memories. He wanted to find new people who would look at him like a normal person. He wanted them to see him the way he saw himself. He avoided the weight and responsibility that came with using the titles “powerful mage” and “murderer.”

He remembered the talented human mage who had worn strange, weather-mismatched clothes and went to Richardess to ask about him.

However, Richardess shook her head and said, “He wants to leave you be.”

Frustrated, he forced himself to ask Helper 2 about his magic.

The dhole Helper 2 had been patiently waiting for the human Peter to ask. His perception was changing since he had met Peter about 4 days ago. He still controlled his anger and reminded himself daily that guiding Peter was his form of revenge for Helper 1, Helper 4, Sigurd, and Callous’ deaths. Many of his dhole friends called him stupid, and he agreed with them. However, he found difficult to stop himself from wanting help Peter. He felt that it was his internalized attitude of species inferiority.

“You saw me flying right,” Peter spokely straightforwardly, rushing to end the conversation despite the many questions in his head. “I was aware at that time, but I also was not. My arms moved. It was me. I did it, but I wouldn’t do it now. It’s like my brain changed to accomodate my powers or something. I believed that I truly was a god at that time. I think my brain was broken. W-what do you think?”

Helper 2 stared at him for 10 seconds, while Peter stood up and paced around the room in which they stayed.

Helper 2 joked, “When did you start talking so much?”

Peter frowned.

“Oh, my bad, my bad.” Helper 2 raised his hands in front of him as an alleviating gesture.

Worried, he pressed the side of his head in thought, glancing at Peter and checking his reaction. “I don’t know why you became that white thing. It bothers me to imagine that you might become that again, which is why I didn’t try to aggravate you. You see my struggle now? It’s not easy trying to keep a person like you from not going crazy when you’ve shown that you’re very unpredictable. I apologize for talking about that, but I had to get that underway. You look fine now, which is why I decided to say it. Okay, magic is something that you don’t generally control in terms of what magic you learn. It’s difficult to get that click when you’re studying magic. Magic is very anecdotal and secretive. Not everyone likes sharing their magic in classes especially when it requires a set of actions to make happen. No one wants to have their privates being shown. It’s the same with magic. Anyways, what you want is an orb to understand your current magic power. That should help, yes. Yes, that should help.”

Helper 2 lifted his right paw, his right leg bending at the knee. He straightened his right leg. Peter’s attention shot to his right paw. “We’re on the same playing field, but I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” Helper 2 concluded.

Peter stared for a few seconds.

Helper 2 looked neutral, feeling skeptical toward the effectiveness of his leadership.

Peter broke into a wide grin, conveying his affirmation on the prospect of continuing Helper 2’s guidance.

Helper 2 smiled, looking away to get started with getting the orb. “Thank you for your interest in investing in my project.” He had responded to Peter's current interest and answered the statement "I want to invest in your thing." Peter had said for different reasons and under different circumstances days ago at the dhole banquet and forgotten.

When walking out the door, he clapped twice, pretending he was acting trivially, feeling ecstatic from Peter’s approval of him.

Peter saw the image of Helper 2’s back and felt briefly that he was seeing someone who could carry him through the darkest days. His eyes glazed over. He looked tired.

Helper 2’s eyes moved up slightly, immersed in his memories. He loved his enemy, Peter; his love was a self-sacrificing, unconditional love.

Peter mouthed to himself while following Helper 2: “I can feel it.

“Everything around me.

“is there anything that makes sense?

“I can feel like I'm going somewhere.

“I'm doing something and everything is mine, but...

“No, I feel like it's just all going to fall apart again, but why does it feel so good?

“Why does it feel so good and why do I feel so confident?

“It's not supposed to be this way...

“It doesn't make sense...

“but everything happened so then...

“It should make sense...

“I don't know. I just feel like maybe I'm going to make it.”

Peter excused himself, feeling euphoria bubbling up to the surface. He went to the forest nearby where he was alone.

He stared, his perspective blurring, his eyes welling up.

He broke into a wide grin. “Okay, okay, okay,” he said, trying to calm himself. He was forcing an happy, eager demeanor.

He placed his hands on his hips and bended his knees slightly like he was about to sit down.

He laughed manically, and midway, he screamed out of relief and joy.

“I’m going to make it!” He saw a tree and gave it the middle finger.

“Yeah!” His voice was so loud it echoed through the forest and down a hill where animals glanced in his direction.

He burst into tears. “I can’t do it anymore!” He stomped the ground and fell to his knees. “I don’t know—” His voice became nasally deep from crying. “—what I am!”

He continued to laugh manically. His mind screaming with rage.

He put all his force into his arm when he hammered the ground. He groaned loudly like a beast. “I will murder them all!” He hammered the ground multiple times successively.

He realized his behavior, wiped the tears off his mouth, and broke into manic laughter.

He broke into tears, returning back to laughter after only a few seconds.

He growled, getting the deepest recesses of his lungs to do so.

He repeated this for 30 minutes until he was too tired, lying down with a dazed look as if he had taken drugs, laughing softly in a euphoric way every so often.

“I just want to help people. To do the right thing.

“I’ve already lived long enough. 5 years was enough. 10 years was enough. 15 years was enough. 20 years was enough. Now is enough.”

Peter was exhibiting residual symptoms consistent with mania.

The bard who had turned Peter into a humanoid hawk appeared and saw him lying down.

Locking eyes with the bard, Peter flashbacked to his episodes of rage, feeling overwhelmed. However, fortunately, he managed his violent thoughts that had arisen out of terror by focusing on a white flower and taking deep breaths.

He avoided the bard and returned to where Helper 2 was waiting.

Sigurd stood there. “Peter, Helper 2 explained to me,” he said. He smiled strongly first then weakly. “Sorry.” He looked where he had shot Peter. His eyes widened. “No, sorry.” His voice sounded desperate.

He fell to his knees, his eyes welling up. “Peter, I’m...” His tears dripped to the ground, and he gave the ground a light tap with his fist. He burst into crying.

Peter smirked, still feeling euphoric from his emotional episode. “Sure,” he said gently. He felt dominant.

Sigurd stuck an adventurer tag that displayed Sigurd’s rank onto Peter’s hand, looking away and pressing his knuckle against his lower lip.

“Rank E? What does that mean?” Peter asked.

“I-I’m a weak dhole,” Sigurd said expressively nervous. He had called himself “a weak dhole” accidentally despite his change from a dhole to a human when he had died. While he had been at jail for few hours, the in-house health care staff had magically healed his paralyzed face with open wounds, hallucinations, the feelings of itchiness of his throat and brain, and bee stings all over his body.

Sigurd skimmed Peter’s expression. Despite his quick glance, the silent language of Peter’s communication was clear. Peter was stone-faced, the corners of his lips curving slightly down. His eyes were wide, reflecting the yellow light of the streets flickering behind the shadowy forms of passersby. His head was still and dead-straight. His eyes were darting around in Sigurd’s general direction; however, he failed to lock eyes with Sigurd for long. Feeling discomfort, Sigurd widened his focus to Peter’s whole form. Peter’s posture looked frozen halfway in the process of walking.

“Tell me how to get this,” Peter said in an ethereal voice. “I know about this. I know about RPGs.”

“RPGs?” Sigurd asked. Peter’s revelation of the word “RPG” was out of place. Sigurd had been living in a fantasy world since he was born, while Peter had been living in modern day for most of his life until only 4 days ago.

“Yes,” Peter said, turning around the adventurer tag while his attention was toward Sigurd.

When he returned his attention to Sigurd’s tag, he gasped. “1322. This tag was registered ten years ago.” He turned a curious gaze to Sigurd. “How did you get this?” he rephrased the meaning of his initial statement as a question.

Sure that Peter was curious and speaking his language of adventuring, which was Sigurd’s coping mechanism, Sigurd nodded, making his lips appear thin and his eyes curved outward and tiny. The corners of his eyes wrinkled, completing a look of mischievousness. “Well, yeah, definitely. Engaging in self-entertaining behavior isn’t so bad.” His voice had come out enthusiastically provocative.

Sigurd made a risk to show more of himself. “Okay, before I give you my own thoughts, I want to say this. I was in a skirmish against a humanoid frog of high capabilities, and his head was wearing a helmet that had these very substantial tapering horns. He had considerable size, and his strength was crazy and out of nowhere. I felt like crying.”

Peter left and returned after 10 seconds.

Sigurd continued to push his personality, while feeling wary for Peter’s reaction. “Its strength exceeded my expectations. As a result of my underestimation, the frog managed to push me into a large body of water—a pool. The pool erupted as a result of this frog’s actions. I was unable to escape the pool. I struggled to increase my oxygen input in a whirlpool. Subsequently, I was in a near-drowing state. I had a flurry of emotions, one of which was the sense that I was progressing into explosion. The reason for this sense was the downward pull of the whirlpool. All of this resulted in my collection of a beautiful first card. It was necessitated that they delved into an exhaustive inspection of the whole head. They reported to me that this head was the largest head they had seen throughout the week. They displayed kindness and reported to me that I had to wait inside of a dimly-lit room for the collection of my reward. The obscurity in the room played a crucial factor in my subsequent emotions of fright. I had sat there for hours, and then, I collected my first card under the guidance of the adventurer guild leader. I questioned the process I had undergone; however, I was happy. I hope not to come across as peculiar. However, it awed me that goblins had undergone that process in my favor. The awe-inspiring nature of my experience impressed me.”

Peter nodded and smirked, matching Helper 2’s statement and joking, “When did you get so talkative?” Helper 2, who was giving them space and listening silently, recognized Peter’s imitation of him, smiled, and nodded to himself while pretending to be only moving his body to stretch.

Sigurd gave an embarrassed but appreciative smile. He did a shrug with the corners of his mouth raised, brows lifted, and eyes glancing to the side.

Richardess and Helper 3 recognized one by one Peter, Sigurd, and Helper 2 who were standing far apart and looking away like they were strangers. However, Peter, Sigurd, and Helper 2 looked to be peaceably enjoying themselves and only appearing distant out of courtesy and tact. They went close within the other group’s sight and stood with observant and distant looks like intellectual spectators.

Sigurd, Helper 2, and Peter looked at Helper 3 and Richardess, appearing guarded but then welcoming. They smiled.

The pleasant memories of Richardess flashed through the mind of Peter, the human. He shot a neutral look toward Helper 3 and repeatedly disposed his thoughts to forget his memories of him like flushing. He snorted when a humorous, absurd image of Helper 3 showing an alluring pose emerged. He had pretended that his snort was a way of clearing the throat to conceal his inward burst into laughter at the ridiculousness of this image.

He had lost most of his tension and gave Helper 3 a polite smile as the imaginary reward for his laughter, the reason of which only he knew.

The dhole Helper 3 noticed his polite smile and reciprocated it. He wanted to punch Peter for giving him a polite smile instead of an arrogant one. Peter’s polite smile felt fake to him. He would rather have Peter admit that he was an arrogant, horrible person than pretend to be a kind, polite man hoping to be your friend. He was distrustful of Peter’s intentions; however, ironically, he had given a polite smile despite his distrust. He felt open-minded and curious toward Sigurd’s transformation from a dhole into a human and toward Helper 2’s changing function to play within dhole society.

The dhole Richardess felt like she could drown in Peter’s embrace. She wanted to hug him tightly and tell him whispers of his godhood. She believed in him thoroughly and wanted to escape into his world of the divine. She dreamt of him day and night. Each afternoon, she lighted a candle symbolizing her completeness of belief and submission toward his attitude and potential precepts and guidance. In his presence, she wanted to fall on her knees, bow her head to the ground, cry, and show her heart in vulnerability, and tell him all of her secrets. She remembered that she had stopped taking drugs and supplanted this coping mechanism with the “good addiction” of being in “true love” with her “Lord” Peter. She saw Sigurd and Helper 2 as potential contributors to her goals and passions.

The human Sigurd looked down on Helper 3, seeing him the same way he saw dirty rags. He knew Helper 3 cared only about passively pretending instead of actively pretending by going out and meeting new people. He felt like he was looking at his younger self, who could live in dreams of godhood and trust others to look for your figure and guess instead of appearing like a god by acting ubiquitously. He felt the same toward Richardess and Helper 2 as she did toward Sigurd and Helper 2.

The dhole Helper 2 thought Richardess was a dangerous, oblivious force that could drive Peter mad if she got too close to him. He thought Helper 3 was too quiet and dependent on external forces like his former best friend, Helper 4 who had passed away. He trusted Sigurd’s fluency and strong communication skills as a sign of self-awareness. He thought Peter as a powerful human with a chance at developing his people, the dholes. He was aware of the dynamic between Sigurd and Helper 3 and between Richardess and Peter.

Seeing that everyone was quiet and patiently waiting for someone to speak, Sigurd thought of two options. One, he could add a brief welcoming speech before making his point. Two, he could make his point directly. He thought over it briefly, but he let his annoyance toward Helper 3’s passiveness make him decide to employ directness with a mental image of activeness.

Chapter 12
Sigurd introduced himself to Peter and the dholes and his point: “My appearance may be that of a human, but my soul is that of a dhole since birth. I request your participation in my goal to uplift the meek Peter from ignorance to insight. Delicately guiding his future actions in respect to society is crucial.”

Sigurd glanced at Helper 1, who glanced toward the heart of the town.

Peter smiled and nodded, finding hope in Sigurd’s opening statement. His smile made Helper 3 look away in annoyance and Richardess close her eyes and hands to calm her pounding heart and conceal her shaking hands.

She returned her attention toward Sigurd’s statement and pondered over it seriously. She revealed her thoughts: “If Peter is delicately guided, I hope we’re not requesting that Peter be thrown into a war or some kind of battle that only offers a place of dead defeat with bodies in his wake.” She was very clear, borrowing Sigurd’s mentions of “delicately guided” and “request” to show her understanding. She was worried, thinking that, as a potentially powerful god, Peter would begin to kill people the way people powerfully step on ants ignorantly. Her worry had arisen out of loyalty despite her trust in him.

She repeated, “Peter be thrown into a war.” She gave a neutral glance toward Helper 2, which in turn made Peter make guesses about Helper 2’s past.

Helper 2 looked immune to Richardess’ glance, but amid the numerous related ideas in his head, he was feeling hungry. He remembered that he was confused how he had seen Peter only eating fruits and keeping a relatively composed persona. His thoughts were brief, refocusing on Sigurd.

Peter was imagining his former friend, Callous who had passed away and attempting to visually superimpose Callous’ speech pattern onto Sigurd’s speech pattern. However, his memory of Callous had grown weak and become an impression. His disturbed health and repeated trauma weakened his memory. Furthermore, Sigurd had displayed a distinctive speech pattern despite having some similarities with Callous’. He felt relieved and happy that he now treated Callous as a person separate from those who had similarities to him. He thanked Sigurd in his heart for becoming that avenue to accept Callous’ uniqueness, including his state of death as an impression in Peter’s mind.

Richardess, Helper 3, Helper 2, and Sigurd excused themselves one by one, each leaving four seconds apart.

The dhole Sigurd had regained contact to his mice who acted as information suppliers to dholes. If he had his mice when he had revived, he would have understood that Peter had killed him, Helper 1, and Helper 4 in self-defense, and had a sorrowful but defending view toward Peter instead of misunderstanding and then deciding to murder him.

Those who had excused themselves had learned that their federation of dhole tribes had fallen under a head of state free from parliamentary parties. This head of state’s title was “The Leader and Head of the Empire.”

A multispecies, interspecies progress of political actors and institutions were directed toward keeping The Dhole Leader from stepping outside the inner land of the dhole federation.

Ten thousand dholes had lost their life since the transformation of the federation’s government to a dictatorship.

Sigurd fell to the ground. “What?” he asked, his eyes dry but his expression wrinkled with disgust and frustration toward himself. “I was not able to help,” he muttered. He fell on the palms on his hands, adopting the form of a dog to reflect his pitiful state. “I am weak!” he shouted. He was expressing his emotions neatly.

Richardess was lying on the ground, crying softly.

Helper 3 hammered the side of his hip, tears dripping down his cheeks with a strong expression.

Helper 2 was silent, but his expression was of grief.

Peter was rubbing the side of his head with a deattached expression.

Helper 2 scanned everyone and their dejected states. He reconnected the dots between Sigurd’s disapproval of Helper 3’s passivity and between Richardess’ pious follower relationship with Peter, and pointed to Peter and Helper 3 as catalysts for Sigurd and Richardess, crucially. “Helper 3, Peter, we should leave as soon as we can, but Peter’s magic has great potential here.”

“Peter...” Despite Helper 3’s misgivings with Peter, he envied to be strong and knew that Peter’s powers were objectively useful. He moved up beside Helper 2, whose conflicting behavior with passivity motivated Sigurd to collaborate.

Helper 2 pointed in the direction of the adventurer market in the area. “Peter, let’s get the orb to check your powers right now.”

Peter and Helper 3 nodded and followed Helper 2 toward the market. Richardess followed Peter, in whom she had faith. Sigurd moved alongside Helper 3.

Mitty, an insect capable of speech followed them with her eyes. Her dog-sized species had a flattened, ovoid body with a creamy color, with a slightly darker brown color on the head and pronotum. Their head was relatively small in proportion to their body with a yellow-brown color. Their antennae was long and thin. Their legs were spiny and adapted for climbing on rough surfaces like tree bark and wooden structures. They had fully developed wings, but they were weak flyers and prefered to run or climb to get around.

Naturally fast, Mitty moved past in front of them; a convoy of monoplanes appeared and quietly flew along their path along clouds; a crowd of 46 goblins cheered, watching a competitive brawl in the streets between 3 goblins, with healthcare staff on standby; a human accompanied by a retinue of servants, advisors, and other attendants cheered alongside the crowd; a flock of 60 adventurers cast magic that displayed a floating image like databent glitch-art of the sacred writings of their system of belief, worship, and relationship and that of Helper 1; and a goblin from two soldier patrols started an argument with a bartender over inflated prices. These 5 developments overstimulated Peter and company, effectively halting them.

As Peter and his company continued their walk to the market in the far distance, he gazed at a goblin blacksmith working inside a workshop through the window from outside to distract himself.

Via a technique called fullering, the blacksmith pressed a cross-peen hammer onto a bar of metal, most of which was red-hot, and hurled a sledgehammer down against its back. These hammers made four recessed lines, two on both sides of the middle on the bottom side, two near the edges as far from the middle was to the edges on the top side. To angle them downward, he pummeled the two centers between the edges and the middle of the bar against an angle. After creating clear foundations, he hammered the two centers one by one to flatten and widen them. He hammered the bar against a swage block and curved it around a mandrel to form a flat-bottom U. He heated a slim block of metal and hammered it to lock halfway into the bar as a combination. He heated this combination and flattened it on the side of the slim block. He cut off half of the bottom part of the slim block with a giant chisel and a sledgehammer. He heated a second bar and made two indents on both sides of the middle on one of the long sides of the bar with a sledgehammer. This second bar formed a one-sided protrusion. He flattened this bar slightly more and sharpened and made the protrusion taper. He sharpened and made the other first bar taper. He mingled the first and second bars through heating. He flattened the first bar and made it thin and sharp at the edges. He polished the mingled bar with a polishing wheel and by rubbing it with sandpaper and cleaned it with water before drying. The finished merged bar was a T-shaped wrought iron axe head.

Peter had gotten a whiff of the red-hot iron. It had smelled sharp, acrid, and burnt, with a hint of metallic sweetness. He had heard sharp, metallic whooshing sounds from the hammering of the iron, the rhythmic roaring of the bellows pumping air into the forge, and the constant gushing of the burning of coal. He calmed down at the addition of clattering and tinging whenever the blacksmith had moved the iron and placed down his tools. He felt the weight of life in the blacksmith’s distant, foreign-language voice. It was a guttural, gravelly, and weathered sound, with a jerky speech style of fragmented phrases, that drifted off.

He returned his attention to his company and realized that they had halted several times due to traffic.

His scrutiny of the magically fast blacksmith’s process had been his first instance of appreciation of everyday life in this strange world.

The market seemed large and towering.

It was the same market, but now that he had stayed here for a while, he had grasped the weight of its function as a crucial platform for growth and trade in this seemingly small town. He combined his new appreciation of the market and everyday life and conceptualized himself employing himself as an overseer that mainly protected.

The feeling of an overseer pervaded his mind. To embrace this feeling, he recalled the sequence of the past five days. He envisaged himself pouring out his experiences as a person from another world who had digested the brutality of loss, magic, and upset, agony, misery, and tribulation to a productive mortal end as the overseer over this town.

In another part of town, a goblin woman, Maysee sought a prolific immortality, wore scruffy clothes like a victim, and stared at a small, immortal, goblin boy. “Please, let me transfer bodies with you. I need to live longer than this.” She had hated living in mortality since she worked as a laundress. Despite her food abundance and healthy body, her ambition to be an immortal creative genius had felt impossible as a laundress.

The insect Mitty was crawling on the wall above them.

The boy, Obed, nodded and showed Maysee the underside of his arm, which showed a black square tattoo. He had a family waiting for him at home for whom he pushed himself to be perfect. He was a part of an adventurer-mercenary party of 20 people who frequented both the forests and the dungeons.

Maysee smiled and then gasped, as the square tattoo turned luminous white and blinded her.

She writhed in agony.

Obed ran past a goblin man and left. This man was Carlos who had passively followed him with his eyes. He was standing a few meters behind Maysee, taller than her. He had a gun to stop the boy, but he was struggling to reload it with bullets with a puzzled expression. He was a philistine toward that of nobility and clumsy. He had entered this line of work since he lived easily as a noble from a merchant guild but secretly admired hardship.

The woman frowned at the sight of Carlos’ struggle to reload. She withdrew her hopeful expectations for immortality and wanted to sleep instead.

Carlos had seen the boy mouthing while running in front of him, “Help me escape.” He had agreed. He was skillfully pretending to be confused.

The boy had mouthed because he had heard Maysee writhing in agony. He promised against hurting anyone with the square tattoo ever again.

At the market, Peter impeded and woke Helper 3 out of his focus on the scenery by clapping. He had joined Helper 2’s plain musical clapping, which was coordinated with the rustic, market feel. However, because Helper 2 clapped with drastic tempo changes for the counter melody part of his two-part polyphony, Peter only followed the simple melody part of his polyphony.

Peter’s attention flew over to a juvenile goblin standing head-down with abnormal positioning of the limbs. This goblin on the street looked like he was about to burst into rage and start hitting things, but halfway through swinging his arms against the wall, he started dancing, repeating the motion of swinging his arms like his anger was an act, until he was exhausted, limply dancing like a broken toy and his whole body was wet with sweat. He was performing alongside his two impressionable willing child siblings with only a few people stopping to watch. However, they had plenty of fruits behind them and lived in a normal house.

Peter’s heart stirred. He continued walking but stuck closer to them. He yearned to save them from everything and anything.

He ran and said, “Please come with me. I can give you money and change your lives. I have powers.” He made his hands glow briefly, looking around toward the crowd and any isolated goblins that looked like guards and soldiers to show accountability.

Amazed, the goblins nodded and presented themselves before the human Peter, their eyes on his hands.

Peter looked at the juvenile goblin most, seeing himself in him, feeling deep humility and compassion. He felt like he was saving his past self, who had childishly gestured toward a dhole about her magical ball of light.

Many kilometers away in Peter’s direction of sight, in a forest, a gaunt goblin with red hair and functional black armor whispered, “In the fields, the bodies are burning.” Behind her, an encampment burst into gigantic flames, and hundreds of goblins cried in the distance. Behind her, several mind-controlled enemy goblins followed along behind her. She rejoined her military group next to Obed’s adventurer party. She and her group had failed to find friendly survivors in and near the encampment, leaving them in a sour mood. Their group had retrieved military gear from the razed encampment and bundled them to sell them to suppliers in another encampment. From this encampment, distributors transported bundles of this kind of gear on water buffalo–drawn carts. They brought them to their hometown. This town was where the merchant guild to which Carlos belonged and which owned these distributors was located.

In this town, several carts unloaded to adventurer equipment vendors near Peter and his friends, Sigurd, Helper 3, Helper 2, Richardess, and the three goblins. The three goblins had introduced themselves as Rol, the juvenile one, and Malta and Blatore, Rol’s two child siblings. The woman Maysee hurriedly crossed the street in front of Peter into an inn to sleep.

“There it is!” Helper 2 exclaimed, pointing his dhole head toward an orb at a stall.

“That looks blue, is that okay?” Richardess asked.

They grabbed the orb, checked Peter’s magic, and discovered that Peter’s magic was working but weak. They monitored the orb, and Peter kept his hands glowing. They learned that Peter’s magic was the type that feeded off his emotions the most out of the other 15 types.

Surprised, Peter raised his brows, but he glanced at the insect Mitty, who was feeding off Blatore’s fruit. Mitty’s presence mesmerized Peter.

“Be careful with this,” Helper 2 warned, his eyes on Peter’s hands.

Peter kept his mindful gaze on Mitty and gave Helper 2 a thumbs-up. He recalled that the last time he had given a thumbs-up was toward Ben in his mansion and the before that was toward the dhole with the ball of light at the banquet. Helper 2’s warning made him imagine Laol who had been warning him of dangerous animals and plants in the forest before Callous had died. Thinking of Laol made him remember the distinct earthy sweet smell associated with Callous’ hunting group consisting of Laol, Richardess, Margareth, and 5 other dholes. He pointed his attention around Mitty. The carpet-like covers of some of the stalls nearby reminded him of the carpet-like clothes of the talented human mage who had been fidgeting with his toenails.

While browsing his memories, Peter caught sight of a familiar goblin whom he had seen running away from the town before Peter had entered the town. The shadow of the goblin against the windy afternoon heat made Peter realize that the meeting Redlight Striker had proposed was around this time and that he had lost touch with his former Earth-based fright of screams and childhood ghosts.

Deep underground, in a white-walled basement, Redlight Striker gave a uniformed dhole a lethal thrust. He neck-stabbed several other dholes. He dropped a bag. He burned it, sniffing at the heat. The mocking print of a kobold on the bag stared back at him. He ran far, and the bomb inside the bag exploded.

He gritted his teeth and kicked the wall, as a hundred of mirages of kobolds ran on the walls down toward him.

He finger-gunned each mirage and shook his head.

He stood behind an inn, happily waiting for Peter, Helper 2, Helper 3, and Richardess.

Peter looked at him, giving him a glance before stooping and placing down a piece of paper.

The goblin Redlight Striker nodded and struggled to bring the paper to him with his sandals. He raised his brows with a confident smile.

Peter said, “I need your help removing the curse of a friend.”

Redlight Striker raised a brow.

Peter smiled weakly. “I haven’t forgotten what you said to Helper 2.”

Helper 2 widened his eyes, eying Peter at the corner of his eye.

Redlight Striker smiled, waiting for Peter to speak.

Peter raised his brows briefly and said, “The curse is a magical curse, and my brother Helper 2 has it.”

Helper 2 and Redlight Striker shot each other toothed grins.

Peter cleared his throat. “Helper 2 told me he needs a way to seal his magic that needs to be used or else he suffers.”

Redlight Striker nodded after Helper 2 waited. Helper 2 mirrored his nodding toward Peter.

Redlight Striker folded the paper in his hands. “Is it Ben?”

Peter frowned. “Yes, it’s Ben.”

Redlight nodded.

Peter showed him a small ball of light. “What do you think?”

In a far away place, a goblin, John, smiled, lying down, red on his mouth, his chest soaked with blood. "The only thing we can do is throw everything we have,” he said, “and after that, we're staring at the ceiling. No, we're staring at... No, we're not. We're done."

“Why are you talking about this?” another goblin asked. She had the one to strike and cause the lethal wound on John. She was bewildered, thinking that John was still acting like he was in control even though he was dying.

“Because I’m not yet done.” John lifted himself up magically. “I have to try to help others.”

The other goblin saw a giant shadow casting from behind her.

Something hit her from behind.

She fell to the ground.

John fell on his knees and looked at the eyes of the goblin. “It would take a million years to appreciate you, and even that wouldn’t be enough. Same goes for me and everyone else.” He was reciting this mantra with strong conviction even though it was his 4873th time. Tears dripped down his cheek. “You are valuable! You are worth it! Please! Don’t be nothing. You are nothing, but you are everything. You matter! I want you to know that!” He drifted off into whimpering and crying. He wanted to embrace the goblin, but he felt that it was more respectful and honorable to keep his distance.

He burst into rage that arose from his grief. “I will destroy everything that makes you feel hurt! The poverty, the sickness, the lies, the confusion! I want to save you! But I don’t... I still don’t understanding things... anything.” He directed his next words toward himself. “Please... be a ‘person’.” His concept of a “person” was a respectful and honorable being that understood everything and the suffering of others but loved everything and everyone.

The giant shadow belonged to a golem which John controlled. This golem had been the one who had hit the other goblin and caused him to lose consciousness. John brought her and the golem with him toward his home town.

He said: “I got a feeling of euphoria after accepting that my life didn't mean anything to the people I cared about.

“I can be me. I can be anything. I can be nobody if nobody ever felt anything about me.

“I feel like I can die and it wouldn't matter. But I feel like I can do anything and chase after my dreams and try to help people as a result.”

Chapter 13
In the town, the company of Peter, Helper 2, Helper 3, Sigurd, Blatore, Malta, Rol, and Richardess and Redlight Striker were engaged in a discussion.

Peter was beginning to hate the way Redlight Striker sounded.

“What?” The dhole Helper 2 said in a confused, wary voice in response to the goblin Redlight Striker deadpan saying “I hate dholes.”

Redlight Striker broke into a chuckle, wearing a casual attitude. “What?” His voice had an accusatory weight, and his disposition changed to that of confrontational censure.

Helper 2 glanced at the human Peter multiple times. Peter ignored this distress signal, opting to continue learning about Redlight Striker’s character before lighting the match.

Redlight Striker smirked, his head pointing downward, rubbing each of his hands against itself quickly in a dominant gesture. This gesture conveyed the preparation for a fight.

Peter asserted, “Want a cup of coffee?” He was sending a message toward Helper 2 and the other dholes that he was hard-set on dislodging the hierarchical pyramid that showed dholes below goblins and goblins below humans.

Around the same time, Redlight Striker increased his volume. “Why are you so angry?” He raised his hands as if to strike Peter before feigning a stretch of his arms. Peter’s assertiveness came across as anger to him.

Peter flinched, while Helper 2 and the other dholes raced and surrounded Redlight Striker. Peter’s influence toward the dholes aroused their proactivity. The three goblins Rol, Malta, and Blatore retreated a few steps after a moment of shock.

Meanwhile, Redlight Striker, believing he called Peter’s bluff, smirked, taking a step backward casually.

Helper 2 and company sized Redlight Striker up, but Redlight Striker’s solace made them hesitate.

Peter stared for a couple of seconds at the ground, avoiding eye contact with Redlight Striker.

Redlight Striker crossed his arms with a wide grin.

Peter’s head trembled once with the beat of his heart, while the stringy muscles of his neck contracted.

He raised his head back toward Redlight Striker. “Yes?”

Redlight Striker waited around 10 seconds to stress his jurisdiction before nodding. “Sure,” he imitated Peter’s speech in a deep, joyous agreeable voice.

Peter briefly looked deflated like a beached jellyfish, a film of tears adorning his downcast figure. His heart was striking the drum too quickly. Casting his gaze askew, Peter traded faces with Helper 2, fleeing from the chest-shaking roar at the vanguard.

He had been emotional in a mosaic of ways except the way of anger, of which Redlight Striker had accused him.

Peter sighted the sense that a tall mountain emerged behind him from among the dholes. This presence was Richardess, whose hands were set on the front of her hips and was strongly stepping forward. “We can start heading to the dungeon a week from now,” she said in a balance of tones shifting between tension and enthusiasm. Her aggressively active tact got nods and yesses from the other dholes.

Redlight Striker smiled normally. “We can take the ‘boat’ leftward,” he said, “right?”

“No, no, we can walk,” Richardess said, her brow inching up shortly from hidden excitement. “It’s not too far.”

“Hmm...” Redlight Striker said in a satisfying accommodating way, clasping his hands and then crossing his arms excitedly.

“I know you understand me right now. What I wanted to say is I will restock my traps so you can use them. And today is April 11, 1332. Friday.”

“Few ideas: falling blocks, cash trap, and clay soldiers.”

“A clay-worker to create the soldiers, a geomancer for the blocks, and an illusionist for the cash trap. We have to visit the warehouse for the concomitant aura potions.”

A following ten-minute-long discussion about adventuring and dungeon exploring between Richardess and Redlight Striker set the stage for them to see eye to eye in good company.

Peter was too jaded to grasp the points of the discussion.

Redlight Striker glanced at Peter. He hoped for Peter to assert himself in a broad-minded manner in lieu of an angry one.

Peter hesitated, releasing “hmms” and “ahhs” in a desultory manner. He was anxious, but he found that Redlight Striker had a openly curious demeanor. “A week is plenty,” he agreed, nodding for added emphasis.

Richardess said when she, Peter, and company parted ways with Redlight Striker, “We can talk about your curse later.” She was referring to his curse, concerning which Peter had lied, saying that it belonged to Helper 2. She assumed that Redlight Striker would be abstinent against the curse conversation; however, she was incorrect.

Despite Redlight Striker’s friendly nature with Richardess, he had a gut feeling that dholes were bad. This feeling extended toward goblins with hard ears instead of flabby ears. He was a goblin with flabby ears himself.

Geopolitical conflict reinforced the political rhetoric that Redlight Striker consumed.

Hard ears were identifiers for goblins whom Redlight Striker scorned. He saw news of negative incidents involving hard-eared goblins often. “Stifts” was a name used for these goblins.

The wickedness of dholes was much less of a goblin subject of debate, which meant that goblins treated dholes far worse.

Richardess and company dragged Peter along to a store.

Peter had a drifting stare toward the dholes and goblins outside. The goblins outside were heading to a mage tournament called the “The Minigames.”

Peter feigned interest, hoping to feel motivated, but he felt like he was carrying seven dwarves on his back.

Each on the outskirts of the town, three strong-willed goblins with hatred toward humans found a sense of humanity by a familiar watchtower.

Tears dripping, heart clenched, expression twitching, voice breaking, the first goblin,  said: “I shall be human. I shall be rule-breaker and rule-maker. I shall be light, and I shall be shadow. I shall be human. I shall be human. I shall know peace and not war. I shall find rest in heavenly places. I shall find rest where the door is beside me. I shall lie down near green pastures. I shall lie down near the floor where the door is. I shall cry out loud. I shall scream out of my lungs. Okay, okay, okay, I must calm down. C-calm down.

"Just take it slow."

The second goblin watched and listened to a rendition of a popular symphony. "This is my death. Absolutely grandious. But inherently meaningless."

These two goblins heard the sounds of the distant harbor, seagulls, soft breeze, and the guard's armory. They were amid a marketplace that bustled down warm sunny paths.

At the heart of the marketplace, the third goblin was expressively teaching a group of goblin children, his limbs easily supplanting the space around him for hours and hours.

Throughout the world, the oldest goblins fell to their dust in death.

Hours later, in the forest, Peter separated from Helper 2, Helper 3, Sigurd, Blatore, Malta, Rol, and Richardess. He revisited Callous, a deceased friend, positioning extremely far away due to the hostile kobolds building. He was staring at an empty baseplate of the stench of wonderful fresh grass. He recognized the horrible sight of magnificent sunshine amid the mockable death that had pervaded here.

He pointed at Callous, but he was meaning it for himself accusably.

“I will never forget your absolute worth within the mockery of Life.”

Peter smiled, contradicting his emotional leaps and turns inside: the external world was beating down on him.

He ran a few steps to fight his raging heart that sought to burst his blood out of him. He flicked a gaze where he felt the deceased dholes, Helper 1 and Helper 4, were.

“Where are you!” He paused, mumbling, his eyes darting. “Where are you!” He grabbed his throat and craned it around. “Where are you! Humans, me, human, me!” He fell to his knees. “Argh!” He pounded the ground, a glare appearing in his face but disappearing for a forced grin to form. This expression switching repeated until he screamed again to his throat’s aching. It was a whimper that sustained his scream at the end. He was a weak dhole almost.

“I love you!” His voice weakened at the end. “I love a dead man.” He broke into tears. “I love myself.” He cackled crazily. “Am I worth hugging, living for? Stupid me. Poopy me—” He burst into a chuckle. He sounded out of his mind and was talking strangely.

He felt he was running, but he was sitting on the ground with his knees bent and legs to one side, head down. “No more death.” He thought he was screaming, but he was muttering. “No more death. No more dead.”

He vividly believed he was standing up and screaming, “No one will ever die!”

His head returned to reality where he continued in a dead voice like a toy doll, “Anymore.” His words sufficed in reflecting his current erratic, nonsensical thought process and stressed, exhausted bodily state.

“I thought I was freed.” He had corrected himself from “free” to “freed.”

Bright red lights blinked in the distance, and a giant humanoid shadowy figure trudged toward him.

After scanning his surroundings and comparing the heights of the vegetation to the trees and the trees to the figure, Peter recognized that the figure was a treant.

Ten figures appeared in the distance beside the treant. “Either way, if we finish them off, you can ask Ada about the golden sword she forgot the key code to,” said one of them. He was referring to finishing off the kobolds.

They each had glorious colorful attire, armor, and apperances, humans with many quirks that seemed like body modifications with a large variety of skin tones like a group of people from across the world.

They were very powerful people.

Peter felt a brief willful excitement, but a throat-choking sensation of fear struck him. He stood still like a dog awaiting orders.

These powerful people frolicked and stepped in whatever way they wanted, ignoring group order. They took up the air in a seemingly meek way, but their demeanor spoke of a grand familiarity with great power.

Peter hated his weakness. “Why?” He imagined himself reaching out toward these people and gaining help from them. He recognized he needed advice.

Lighting struck and lit a fire on one of these powerful people, but their bodies and mood remained excellent. It was like an ignorable worm had passed them. The fire disappeared after a few seconds.

One of these powerful people stopped. They started to drop hundreds of large items, tools, and weapons straight from inside their bodies. Their expressions were dull and contemplative like they were cleaning up trash from their inventory. The items exhibited the enchanting charm of floating up and down like the most sacred legendary artifacts.

Peter stared with desperation seeking to leap out of his eyes.

After finishing, the powerful person left and joined the rest.

Peter ran like a wild dog and hugged the items. “What is this?”

Far away, in the same continuous spread of woodland, a dhole that Peter knew, Margareth, was lying against a boulder and a tree, her expression faint with anger. Her face sustained heavy physical trauma, but she was alive.

She felt an absence of others’ love and care toward her, wishing she was flying free in the clouds instead of alive.

“What a waste,” she wanted to say in regards to her life.

Margareth heard herself chuckling in her head, depressed.

She remembered Richardess’ past statement about becoming a god and recognized it as arrogant and impossible.

In another part of the town where Peter had been, Laol, a dhole Peter knew, was arranging her things. She put together and prepared containers with fruits for delivery. She worked alongside the eying of intelligent mouse helpers. These helpers performed the roles of accountants and appraisers, auditing and bookkeeping.

She had allowed their adventuring activities to die.

One of her delivery drivers made a depressing, controversial remark, but Laol gave a humorous reply that repurposed the content of the remark to keep the atmosphere light.

Near the kobold camp, Peter wanted to save the dholes, but death surrounded him. He was gently humming a lullaby, but his leg was shaking energetically.

Peter shouted fervently, resembling a drug-like state. “I will love you all!” One of the tools from the powerful person was set on Peter’s right hand, a tree-cutting axe.

Thirty kobolds stood in front of him, watching him each from a different distance and posture. Each of them wielded a different weapon. They were staring at the items, tools, and weapons on the ground beside Peter with eyes of greed.

Peter gasped and stood up straight. He ran a few steps, looked back, and said, “No, stop!” He took a deep breath and began his retreat. “What’s going on?” He bit his lip. “Where did they come from?” He was too scared to think clearly. He escaped beyond deep vegatation with the axe he had taken.

The kobolds seized the powerful person’s items, tools, and weapons, and a flowery of plans sprouted from this collection of disruptive treasures. They began to bang the countdown toward these power-play, power-up plans circling into fruition.

Peter felt a great frustration toward his fearful behavior, and an angry confidence seized his nature. He remembered Callous’ past statement: “You got them remember. Your hands did it, and so you’re being rewarded for it.”

He made his hands glow and advanced toward the kobolds.

The kobolds noticed his figure at the corner of their vision. They eyed each other in understanding. They sought to finish off this problem human.

Peter aimed his glowing hands at them. “Murderers!” He blasted them.

The kobolds screamed, crying loudly like babes.

“Wish you were better! Wish you were stronger!” He had been talking to himself. His words had two meanings. One, he had commanded himself to wish and make an effort to be better. Two, he had referred to his past wishes to be better and subsequent prevalent disappointment.

The kobolds turned into ashes before his magic light.

A kobold appeared beside him.

Peter dropped his axe out of an absense of skill. The kobold slashed him. His arm had an open wound shaped like an eye hole.

He blasted the kobold’s left side, and the kobold squealed in pain, falling to the ground, neutralized.

Peter paused, taking a good long while to pant.

His eyes became wet with relief.

He continued blasting the kobolds.

The kobolds adjudged him guilty, raising their hands in solidarity. They shot arrows at Peter.

Peter blocked some of the arrows, but many fell on him.

The kobolds screamed in delight, as Peter, the human giant, fell to one knee. Peter’s face looked desperate yet exhausted. His mouth and eyes were wide open.

The kobolds surrounded Peter and placed their weapons inside Peter’s body to disable him and placate his passion for slaughter.

Peter started with a welp, but it crescendoed into a chorus of cries and whimpering. He was like a babe.

He forgot his decision to kill, steal, and destroy, as his brain was in a constant loop of suffering.

Peter healed himself and tore the weapons from his body. He grabbed the remaining kobolds and knocked them out with magic and perseverance.

Peter panted for a wearisome while, eventually calming and lying down. He felt this strange foreign world’s grass pricking his back, but he smiled because it reminded him of his true home Earth.

He imagined a farm replacing the dead bodies and some of the grass to make way for a family home. He pictured having a wife that behaved like his mother and a son that behaved like his father. He lost himself in this trance for thirty minutes, feeling that Time was a sombre spirit that guided all lost souls into an attentive loving state of oblivion and normalcy.

He rejected the philosophical tapestry of the trance. He inferred that from it he would incur complacence that equated to hellfire and punishment.

After hiding the items, tools, and weapons and placing the axe in a pouch, he left.

He returned to Richardess and company with an all-time champion’s wide grin in the town.

Chapter 14
Richardess ended a lengthy, boring discussion with a large, relatively handsome dhole gentleman with very soft, voluptuous hair about recent advancements in engineering with the statement: “We hope for a fairer distribution of the tax burden and the consideration of our hardships.”

The dhole gentleman stood up and examined the room, and he left.

When Peter crept up in her view, Richardess recognized a significant positive change from his bearing. She wandered toward speculating.

Richardess smiled at the thought that she, Peter, and many others had a panorama of dynamic roles and processes by which their individualities shone within the environment of their ordeals during the past two weeks. Her speculation was that Peter had accustomed himself to the colder climate, relatively slow-paced culture, and gilded roads of the town. It was correct, but these factors were minor to his improved bearing compared to his ordeals.

Finally, she deemed her lack of grief from the loss of her acquaintances, Helper 1, Helper 4, and Callous, a cost of wanting to move forward.

Peter let himself express a humble demeanor. He prioritized a vacuum where he could listen to others’ perspectives instead of a retelling of his own. His emotional fatigue was a major reason for this prioritization.

Richardess shifted to a quiet expression, as she turned her head toward the dholes lounging and talking beside her, Helper 2, Sigurd, and Helper 3. The noise of playing of the three goblins, Blatore, Malta, and Rol, allowed the conversation to lull for longer times.

Peter smiled at Helper 2, Sigurd, and Helper 3, who nodded curtly.

Richardess’ eyes darted around in consideration of their curt nods and cleared her throat to get them to be accomodating.

Helper 2 smiled weakly and adopted a frail posture like he was limp.

Helper 3 had a plastic smile that exuded arrogance.

Sigurd looked ignorant, carefree, and more interested in the walls.

“Yeah.” Peter sounded despondent.

Helper 2’s posture twitched toward straightening.

Helper 3’s smile dropped briefly, but it returned.

Sigurd frowned and glanced at the ceiling and outside the windows like he was avoiding the situation.

Peter sighed.

Helper 2’s posture grew tenser.

Helper 3’s eyes widened and shifted toward faint annoyance.

“What?” Peter said.

Helper 3’s brow shot up briefly.

Helper 2’s left hind leg twitched away.

Sigurd smiled humorously.

Richardess smiled warmly. She said, "You look for the better." She was referring to how he looked like.

Sigurd grinned. “Yeah!” he said expressively.

Helper 3 felt compelled to smile politely in response to Sigurd pressing against him in cheer for Peter.

Helper 2 took one step behind Helper 3 and Sigurd. “Yeah, you did great,” he muttered He still looked nervous. He had fears of Peter’s confidence initiating a series of calamitous events in the future.

Peter had his first healthy burst into laughter. “Yeah, I guess so.” His wording seemed humble, but his tone sounded assured toward his growth.

He recalled his past statement, “I love you all!” and felt a commitment toward assuring the health and safety of the dholes and three goblins.

The atmosphere turned awkward when Peter said after a long, happy silence, “Do you guys remember Margareth?”

Richardess was the first to frown. “She’s faceless.” She said after more than 10 seconds of deep hesitation.

Peter’s face twitched between grinning widely and frowning many times before settling on a shocked expression.

Seeing that Peter was silent, Richardess diligently continued, “She unfortunately lost her face in an attack with a tiger.” Her expression hesitated between smiling and frowning, hoping to see a positive response from Peter, the human she admired the most.

Peter felt his eyes wet, as the emotions from his mental breakdowns surged up partially inside him due to the euphoric slowdown he felt from receiving affirmation of his self-improvement. The feelings of helplessness and frustration bubbled at the surface of his heart. He was still in control, but his expression was twitching enough to make Helper 2, Helper 3, Sigurd, and Richardess give him space by moving several steps away in unison. They envisioned Peter’s psychological explosion.

Helper 3 showed a collection of wood carvings he was about to sell. “Callous told me to make wood carvings with your ‘six objectives,’” he said. “I was too tired to say it all this time, but since you look like you need saving, I’ll say it now.” He intended these wood carvings to be Peter’s silver lining and saving grace.

Peter stared like he was in a trance. “Okay,” he said. He had almost said, “I don’t remember.”

Nodding, Helper 3 stepped away and waved his hands around in faux awkwardness to highlight the rudeness he perceived from Peter’s response. He inferred that Peter’s frail emotions offsetted his wicked, arrogant, foolish nature. However, he believed Justice would strike Peter’s evil down soon enough. He only had to wait for it to happen. He was patient and took bitter pleasure in the love-your-enemies philosophy.

Behind Peter, from the heart of the town, a goblin noble, Ben, appeared alongside tens of goblins and hundreds of dholes, glancing at Helper 2 in understanding.

Helper 2 glanced away.

Ben and company’s goal was to force a correction in Peter’s behavior after recognizing the danger Peter’s confidence and abilities posed to goblin and dhole society. He was working with many goblin nobles and the dhole federation head of state, namely “The Leader and Head of the Empire.”

Alarmed, Peter opened a pouch, took out an axe, and swung it as a warning.

Ben and the goblins were prepared. They had heard about the new axe from the dholes, who had heard it from their mice.

The talented mage whom Peter knew appeared behind Peter and made them disappear into a far-away place. “If only you were not a chess piece, huh? Every time you think you’ve thought outside the box, there’s always a box beyond the box you’re currently in.”

Peter chuckled and then sighed casually, his head down, a hand rubbing against his face.

The mage was surprised. “Hey.”

Peter slowly tilted his head toward him. “What? You want to say something new?”

The mage closed his eyes. When he remembered Peter’s positive interaction with him, he recovered his composure. “I need you to focus. Who are you right now?”

Peter smiled weakly. “P-Peter.”

“You have a weak sense of identity right now. Not good.”

“What? I’m Peter.”

“No, you’re not Peter. You’re human 15526844, an experiment.

“Peter.

“Peter.”

Peter struck the talented mage in the head and used his magic to knock him out. “What did you say to me!

“Shut up!”

Peter destroyed the rules of this alien world again, bypassing them time and time again in order to cope with his Earth-based ignorance and subsequent volatile emotions. He was a failure in the aspect of trying to adhere to a sense of structure. However, he was a human being fresh from Earth and was experiencing a liminal short-term reaction. The consequences of this short-term reaction were supplanting this reaction with a long-term catastrophic situation and fast.

The talented mage had been trying to calm him by hypnotizing him with a lie; however, his magic had failed since Peter was significantly more volatile than an normal human emotionally. He had risked his well-to-do life in order to protect Peter and failed.

Peter felt a desperation to regress to his childhood on Earth, but instead of regressing, he looked forward toward the three goblin children that resembled both his childhood and the future.

He pressed his hand against the mage’s head and woke the mage up. “Teleport me back. Let’s get the three goblins. But...” He placed his axe down.

“But?” The mage was responsive, although he had an absense of understanding, proving that he was a man of action, instinct, and habit even during muddled mind states.

“Are the dholes okay?” said Peter.

Peter wanted to hit the mage to wake him up, but he stopped himself. His fight-or-flight was still active, urging him toward sudden physical movements, making him twitch all over his body with prickling sensations.

The mage nodded feebly in a rigid motion.

Peter stared at the mage for around thirty seconds. Halfway, the mage said, “What?”

Peter hugged the mage.

The mage felt tears dripping down his face from his and Peter's eyes. “Why?” A black image appeared in his mind, but slowly, an image of Peter hugging him appeared.

Soon, Peter and the mage’s mouths trembled, snot dripping down their noses. They released their heartaches into the atmosphere, letting it circulate to accommodate the cycle of life.

Peter let go. “Let’s go.”

The mage disappeared, and then the three children appeared alongside him.

“Where are we?” Peter asked.

“We’re in a tower,” the mage said.

“Who else is here?”

“A dhole friend.”

“A mage like you?”

“Yeah.”

Peter’s leg was red after it scraped against a rock.

The mage was healing Peter’s leg, expecting to spend a minute at most, while cringing at the lingering taste of a bitter fruit.

Peter waved his hand, and his wound disappeared.

The mage hid his surprise but then remembered the power of human magic.

Peter’s posture was humdrum. He had fallen asleep while sitting down.

More than 12 hours later, Sigurd stood beside Peter, watching him sleep. “When are you going to wake up?” The mage had teleported him and the rest of the dholes.

Peter felt safe, lazy, and daydreamy and had forced himself to continue sleeping.

Helper 3 shared a look of concern. “Maybe this is for the better.” Now, most of his concern was toward the people whom he believed Peter would hurt, but some of it was toward Peter because of Callous’ Peter-favoring influence.

Smoothly, Richardess was bowing toward Peter. She had been muttering words of prayer for hours. Blatore, Malta, and Rol were imitating her, which Richardess had rewarded with approval.

Sigurd wanted Peter to live freely. He had a conviction, rather than guilt, toward protecting Peter’s freedom after he had attempted to take away his life out of a gross misunderstanding.

Helper 2 was silent, only wanting to be in the same room to be sure he was acutely aware of Peter’s ongoing condition. He had interacted with the goblin noble Ben in order for Peter to receive lessons and wisdom, and he stood by his actions despite the mage’s intervention. When the mage went to bring him along in teleportation, he raised his hands innocently, only wishing to watch the mage’s actions instead of performing the role of corrector and disruptor against Peter and his helper, the mage. Ultimately, he wanted to help Peter grow as a mage but with care.

Peter removed himself from the floor of the tower and stood up, finally getting his long-awaited healed rested state.

Peter looked outside at a small farm.

He turned away from it and looked toward the part of town where the noise of peasant goblins protested against a book. The political mayhem had turned on.

He turned halfway and looked toward the part of town where the grass-draped entrance of the adventurer dungeon was set. His eyes sparkled with zeal. Richardess said, “Redlight is expecting us there.” She kept her face still out of hesitation and and a desire to be considerate.

Blatore said, “What kind of red light?” He was the first of the goblin children to feel confident to speak and ask. His mention of “red light” connected Peter to his memory of the blinking red lights in the distance before he had recognized the powerful people from one of whom he had gotten his axe.

Malta nodded thrice. “Blue and red makes purple,” he said matter-of-factly despite his mistaken interpretation of the combination of Richardess’ and Blatore’s words. “Red light is red, and red is a primary color.” His mention of “purple” made Peter visualize purple strongly and his hands glow purple briefly in secret.

Rol was silently observant toward Peter’s and the dholes’ reactions toward Blatore and Malta, feeling protective.

Helper 2 left the tower first.

When Peter and company reached the dungeon, a figure that looked like a combination of Helper 2 and Redlight Striker’s appearance stood in the distance. Helper 2 and Redlight Striker had finished their merging.

Peter stopped and panted momentarily. He composed himself and nodded. “Yeah, I recognize them.” He had responded to Richardess’ question about whether he Helper 2 and Redlight Striker.

At a courtyard inside the adventurer dungeon, many various people with variegated inclinations were standing and moving about in a gathering.

The goblin John was rubbing his golem’s back, trying to get the stubborn muck off the gaps with his bare hands. The goblin John brought with him was sitting down, dejected. John looked disheveled, but his facial hair was well-trimmed.

The immortal goblin from an adventurer party, Obed was staring at a gaunt goblin with red hair and functional black armor, finding her attractive. He was ignorant of the prominence of other goblins showing admiration toward her as well.

The goblin from a merchant guild, Carlos, was pacing around anxiously. He had lost his gun, in which he had found an enveloping sense of security.

The goblin who wanted immortality, Maysee, was pressing herself against Carlous while she looked for Obed.

The three strong-willed goblins from the outskirts were walking around, each carrying a weighty bag containing magical fruits.

The gaunt goblin with red hair and functional black armor and her military group were relaxing, drinking wine and eating at a stall. Although she appears lazy, she was exhausted from capturing a significant number of enemy goblins, five times the average for the month.

Mitty, the giant insect, was playing with a few goblin children who secretly came to learn about adventuring.

Redlight Striker, the goblin who saw delusions of kobolds and disliked dholes, was discussing politics splendidly with a adventurer party of ten goblins, to whom Obed belonged. He was displaying good-hearted cheer. Helper 2, whose spirit was inside Redlight Striker, was sharing his political opinions in Redlight Striker’s head. Redlight Striker was casually dismissive toward Helper 2.

The goblin whom Peter had seen running from the town was drawing on a box, sitting on his haunches.

Peter knew only this goblin and Redlight Strker.

He felt like he was at home with these goblins; however, Ben was watching him from afar. Peter was taking a big risk, collaborating with the talented mage in gambling with their lives.

The talented mage began bawling like a baby.

Peter analyzed him, composed. His emotions were flat like a sharp line that could cut if needed.

The mage’s troubled cries pulled the eyes of the gathering toward him. The mage realized that Peter knocking him out cancelled his magical inching toward a new level of power. Peter had given him a setback of 20 months.

His magic had been his source of strength, and its perceived loss made him regress to a mental form like a child.

John walked up to the mage. “What’s wrong, darling?” he asked. His “darling” was meant as a kind gesture, but the mage took it as mockery.

The mage lifted himself. “What?” he said. His voice was bitter.

John covered his mouth. “What?” he said. “What did I say?” He looked concerned but felt safe.

The mage looked downward. “I lost my abilities?” he said in a hesitant voice. “I love my abilities.” He sounded calmly disappointed.

Peter took a step forward. “Yeah, what’s wrong?” he asked the mage. He turned from side to side, scanning the piqued people around. “Details?”

The mage’s face shifted between frowning and faking a smile. “I d-don’t know why I even tried.”

Peter placed his hand on the mage.

The mage remembered Peter’s hug and pushed Peter away. “Stop.” He glared at Peter, demanding Peter to give him space.

Peter slowly straightened his back, turning his head toward John. “You?”

“Me? John said with an exaggerated smile out of confusion.

Peter was silent, locking eyes with John.

John nodded and took two steps away from Peter and the mage.

The rest of the people kept their distance, concerned but feeling safer in their bubbles than interacting with a disruptive happening. Peter’s behavior became imprinted in their minds besides the imprint of Peter’s human appearance.

“The guilty will know pain,” the mage said.

The mage frowned. “Beware a man with nothing to lose.”

“Brother, I felt physical pain,” Peter said. “I thought I was gonna have heart attack.” He said it humurously out of second-hand embarrassment from the mage’s poseur words.

Richardess shared Peter’s feelings, turning away. “Oh, golly.” She and the rest of the dholes silently trusted Peter.

The mage disappeared.

Peter jolted before recognizing the mage’s straightforward casting of teleports and calming down.

He scanned beyond the lines of onlookers and sighted Ben in the distance.

He cocked his body away and began brisk walking away, leaving behind Richardess, the dholes, and the three goblin children. He ran, too fast for his company.

Half an hour later, in the outskirts of town, two of Ben’s goblin soldiers stood in front of Peter.

Peter charged them and pressed his white-glowing hands against their shields and spears. He broke them and shattered them, blood entering into his nostrils.

He took the spears and fragments, blood dripping down his torso.

He healed himself, keeping his head away from stabs by swinging it around.

He became dizzy.

A line of thirteen goblin soldiers shot at him.

Peter took 13 arrows.

He pulled them out one by one, roaring.

He healed himself.

He charged straight at the goblins, grabbing them and burning them into dust.

He panted and fell to his knees, feeling exhausted.

50 goblin soldiers stand around him, casting magic spells that turned Peter into a painting where his body and spirit resided. The rock that Peter had picked up fell to the ground.

Chapter 15
In his body and spirit that had turned into a painting, Peter travelled to many places. Numerous people carried him over several weeks.

He was frozen in time, devoid of any cognitive activity like he was dead.

The dholes, Helper 2, Helper 3, Sigurd, and Richardess, had returned home to their tribe.

The three goblins, Blatore, Malta, and Rol, had returned to the streets.

The last person who carried Peter stopped at a library and left him there.

Peter transformed into his human state shortly. He looked around, and his first words were “I know that book.” He sat down and read a book about dholes.

A bird peeked at him from the window.

Peter noticed the bird from his peripherical view. However, he kept himself from looking at the bird directly, adopting a stiff posture. He wanted to preserve this moment of having a bird near him and giving him a sense of guidance.

The dhole Margareth whom Peter had met opened the door, greeting him. “The Minigames have started,” she said. She was very casual, mitigating Peter’s troubled mind.

Peter relaxed his seating posture, afraid that Margareth would catch off guard.

Margareth gave him a smile that seemed matured compared to before.

Peter looked away before widening his eyes in realization.

Margareth took a deep breath. She recognized Peter’s journey and heard about it from mice. She felt that Peter had too much influence on Richardess and company and that his influence would grow enough to break down dhole society into a bunch of garbage collectors. She hated mayhem. A sense of properness kept her sane when facing the fact that agony in death was cruelly normal. She fastened the connection of her properness with her efforts to alter her mangled face to look normal and fit in dhole society and her efforts to calm Peter as an influential factor.

She raised her hand, causing a cup of water to levitate toward her. She sipped from the cup. She said, “So?” She had stretched out the 'o' sound, waiting for Peter’s response.

Peter tilted his head toward her, looking about to speak; however, he looked away, abandoning what he had wanted to say. He turned left and right, his eyes darting around in search for a good way to word the ideas in his head. His face looked pinched when he felt that he was close to completing a sentence. Finally, he opened his mouth. "I don't know what you're talking about. Sorry." His mouth twitched between smiling awkwardly and grimacing.

He felt he was impressionable in a foolish sense.

Margareth interrupted Peter’s thoughts and got him to go outside. She showed Peter a view of a large dhole crowd stopping another dhole crowd from protesting. She said, “Peter, can you stop those people from burning down the two towers in the distance.”

Peter saw the two towers in the distance. “What? Why?”

“Don’t let them destroy the towers.”

Peter felt that her directness made the chaos that he had experienced fade way into simplicity. His mind had also been losing touch with his memories in order to help him take care of himself presently.

Peter raised his hands and found that his hands could still glow. He felt a pounding fear. “Why?” he mouthed. He wanted to know why he still had power. He feared himself. He felt it was impossible to stop himself. He was too strong-willed for him. He felt it was impossible to give up. He feared this nature.

He was afraid of himself.

He was too ambitious.

He was too strong.

“Someone, stop me please,” he would say. “Someone kill me.”

From inside the library, he shot beams of light at the crowd that sought to destroy the towers. He drew a magical line in a few seconds to scare the crowd away and keep himself from killing a single dhole.

However, he accidentally burned several dholes.

His mind was still catching up with reality, believing that he had kept himself from hurting anyone. He had a question in his head: “Is it enough? Is it good enough?”

He realized he was wrong before groaning in fear. His eyes became wet.

Margareth looked stunned.

Peter wanted Margareth to say: “Peter, you can stop.”

Margareth smiled. “Good job.”

Peter halted his crying and voice, and he looked numb, standing up straight. His emotions disappeared into the crevasses of his heart.

“No,” he said.

Margareth nodded instinctively because she had expected Peter to say “yes.” “Hmm?” she said.

His hands clasped in front of him, wearing a strong smile, Peter explained with a tense face, “I don’t want to need to have you constantly telling me that. Why am I here, Margareth?” He made his face gentle. “Do you know?” Hope twinkled in his eyes.

Peter was self-confident and found compliments beyond small talk excessive.

Margareth gave a hard yes. However, when she saw the crowds dispersing, she softened her expression. “In their intricate web of reasoning, they have arrived at the perplexing conclusion that translocating your existence to this particular realm constitutes an optimal means for your seamless assimilation into a designated persona and the subsequent attainment of a flourishing existence.” Her perplexful wording resonated with Peter.

Peter asked, “Who’s ‘they’?”

“‘They’ are a clique of goblin nobles and the dhole head of state, ‘The Leader and Head of the Empire.’”

Around the same time, Peter exclaimed before composing himself, “They know about me!” Margareth’s mention of the word ‘clique’ made him recall the dhole with the ball of light who had spoken of a dhole clique.

“The mice serve as conduits for our communication,” Margareth said.

“Hmm? Sorry. What? Y-you said ‘mice’?”

“Certainly. Mice tell them.”

“Like, an actual mouse?”

“That’s right.”

Peter smiled. “Can I go lie down?”

Margareth’s head twitched in surprise. “Ah, go ahead.” After processing what Peter said, she scanned the library. “I can give you some pillows. Do you want?” She was inching farther and farther away in the direction of the pillows.

Peter nodded. “Sure.”

Later, he placed a pillow under his chest as he lay down on the floor. The heat of the pillow made him remember the time when he was staying at the inn before Sigurd’s attack. He closed his eyes, feeling nervous with Margareth standing nearby.

After a few grueling minutes, he opened his eyes stared at the floor.

After a long while, Margareth recognized Peter’s desire for space and left.

He sorted through concerns he had put at the back of his mind due to the immediate dangers posed which the environment and his absence of rest posed.

One of his concerns was his recognition of his advantages and privileges as a human being compared to dholes and goblins. However, he felt that the suffering he had experienced from killing people in self-defense made him wonder if these privileges were worth the cost.

He had a dream, sleeping away for 30 minutes.

Peter sat up after he awoke.

“What was the special tree log of the dholes?” he asked.

Ten dholes entered the library and sat down in different places, glancing at Peter every so often.

Peter visualized the scene of the forest when he had first arrived in this different world.

Peter saw his pouch, inserted his hand inside it, and took out his axe.

His teeth fell to the ground. “What’s happening!” he said, his voice sounding through a mouth with an absence of teeth.

He covered his mouth.

The ten dholes ran up to him and healed him while he sat there, terrified.

A new set of teeth appeared in Peter’s mouth from healing, while the dholes cleaned up Peter’s old teeth on the ground.

Peter recognized the concurrence of his grabbing of the axe and the magical detachment of his teeth. He tensely dropped the axe and walked backward.

The dholes gave him confused looks. Four of them waved at Peter.

Peter recognized the dholes waving. They were four of the eight dholes that had made up the hunting party Callous had assembled, which had included Callous, Richardess, Margareth, and Laol.

Peter’s tension was fading, assuring himself that the four dholes looked friendly enough. These dholes invited him to the balcony.

Peter felt thankful that they had taken the initiative in the interaction, going with them.

He was careful to position himself a respectful distance away from the other six dholes behind him.

The four familiar dholes pointed at the distant hill where Peter had killed Sigurd out of self-defense. “We know what you did to Sigurd, and we know he’s revived himself,” one of them said. The tranquillity of the expressions of the rest conveyed that this speaker spoke for them.

Peter nodded, still deciding in a spectrum between two extreme interpretions of the words.

The dholes each made a quill levitate and magically drew on a parchment of paper the name “Sigurd.” They sent the parchments to Peter and waited expectantly.

Peter was at a loss. He raised his brows and offered his hand to borrow a quill and parchment.

The dholes’ eyes twitched in response, but they slowly, clumsily brought out a quill and parchment from their pouches telekenitically.

Peter grabbed one of their quills and one of their parchments confidently and drew Sigurd’s name  on his parchment.

The dholes nodded, grabbed the quill and parchment Peter used, and arranged the quills and parchments awkwardly.

Peter watched them with inward glee.

The dholes had suspected that Peter would be watching them leave, so they turned their heads away. Their intention had two goals. One, they wanted to analyze Peter’s responses to their actions. Two, they wanted to prevent their awkwardness from breaking the perceived integrity and structure of their actions. The purpose of this prevention was to ensure a trustworthy analysis result.

A smile formed in Peter’s face when he saw their backs, feeling that this interaction between him and them was special and genuine in a easygoing way.

One of the dholes turned around and walked up to hand Peter his old teeth.

Peter felt surprised. He took on an innocently confused face, walking around the dholes. He saw his shadow and had a thought that his body was walking in front of him, staring at it for a while. He recognized that his sleep inertia was leaking into his movements.

The dholes were accomodating, handing him fruits.

These fruits tasted bitter.

Peter finished the fruits before the dholes searched through Peter's clothes.

Peter had given them permission.

The dholes found himself pondering about what methods goblin guards utilized to prevent a group of dhole prisoners from escaping. They wondered if the prisoners could potentially stage a mutiny against their absent captain, Jaller, and make their getaway by assuming human identities, concealing their forms by stacking themselves, or employing illusion spells. Also, he questioned whether their werewolf friend, with whom they consorted, could pass as a kobold. When it came to ethnic distinctions, he contemplated whether the others would care, drawing parallels to how a Cartener might mistakenly confuse a Red elf for a Songerer or Acqulite. Their thoughts reflected their culture, experiences, and knowledge, and Peter's clothes was an additional piece of information.

Peter asked the dholes if he could the fruits again tomorrow.

The dholes consented.

“How interesting... totally new to me," Peter said, liking his well-rested state. "Will eat during daytime tomorrow. Switching to the red fruits for drifting to sleep now. Otherwise, I'll be up the entire night discovering new frontiers. Bless you, friends.” He was talking about the different kinds of fruits the dholes gave him: red, purple, and yellow.

After staring for a while, the dholes pointed out his hands. “Peter, can you do it?” said one of them.

Peter was calm. “Yeah, I can.” He inferred that they were referring to his magical powers.

"Do it then." The dholes suddenly sounded rash.

Peter raised his brow. "With you pushing it so much, no...?"

The dholes hissed. "I want you to test your magic, so we can see if you're prepared to handle the waves."

Peter smiled out of confusion. "I don't know how you mean?"

The dholes were loud. "The waves are here!"

They ran away.

Peter was looking around.

He saw a giant form in the distance.

It was a giant toy.

He guessed that he was hallucinating a toy the size of the tallest mountains emerging from the earth.

He was wrong.

A giant toy hand slammed the world.

Peter felt the earth shake under him.

He ran for cover, debris hitting him all over.

He bled profusely, yet the smell of debris was stronger.

Peter fell to one knee and then to the ground.

He stumbled around, crawling away.

The dholes grabbed him simulatenously.

They carried him.

Roars sounded in the distance. Instead of a literal roar, it was the moving of the feet of the toy.

The feet were larger than coliseums.

Peter shouted, but he could hear only the beating of his heart.

The dholes fell one by one as debris slammed on them.

Peter felt someone cover his mouth.

He looked around to see Richardess.

Her face was soft.

Peter screamed.

Peter looked around after waking up.

He saw a grandly clean scene instead of dark ruins filled with choking fiery smoke.

Peter reached outward.

He tripped, and Richardess caught him.

"What are you doing here?" Peter asked. His face showed shock, then surprise, and then a developing fear.

Richardess smiled.

Peter wanted to shake his head to dispell the disconnection he had with what he was experiencing.

"No," Richardess said.

"Don't worry," she continued. "You'll be alright."

Peter's mouth was agape.

Peter closed his eyes and saw a small boy from behind that looked like him.

He opened his eyes.

Richardess looked different. As a dhole, she wore regal clothes.

Beside her, Margareth had an analogous attitude of maturity and elegance that exceeded Peter's expectations of dholes again.

Peter saw throng of hundreds of dholes and goblins gathered around, cheering.

He was in a palace.

He was amongst the nobles.

Peter wanted to organize his discontinuous thoughts and knowledge; however, Richardess forced him out of the seat on which he had been sleeping.

"What?" Peter asked.

Richardess had a neutral expression. "Go to the gates."

Peter wanted to exclaim, "What gates!" but Richardess' strange behavior made him avoidant and deferential.

Richardess struck a grandiose pose. "Let us finish off the monster sprawl!"

Several people cheered alongside her in passing.

Richardess refocused her gaze onto Peter. "Do you know what? You'll be fine lucky."

Peter opened his mouth slowly, making numerous false starts to talk. "Please tell me what's going on."

Richardess smirked. "You'll know soon enough."

Peter felt irked after processing the vagueness of her words, yet seeing that Richardess had turned away from him, he suppressed himself.

He mindfully followed her, taking in the sights of the forms around him in his peripheral view. He tended toward avoiding the eyes of the people along the path he had taken toward Richardess.

Richardess felt so close yet so far amid the noise and chatter around.

Peter felt like reaching out to touch her.

Richardess was beside Peter, thinking about how she was going to show Peter a cave.

She looked at Peter.

Peter returned her gaze and felt that she had everything in her head with things of which he was ignorant and wanted to know.

He smiled tenderly. "What?"

Richardess closed her eyes in front of him and took a breath. "You're finally back."

A frown flashed through Peter's face.

"You're a monster," Richardess said, making Peter's heart stop.

Peter's head slightly moved down.

Richardess scrutinized him to peek into his knowledge. She inwardly held several allegations against him since the goblin noble Ben and company had taken him away. First, she wondered about the motives behind his actions since his first appearance. Second, she contemplated whether he would prove volatile, ambitious, or both in response to coming challenges. Third, she thought about why he chose to run away after seeing the goblin noble Ben and get himself caught in the process.

Peter maintained his outward serenity.

Margareth half-hugged Richardess in cheer. "We're finally getting some action."

Peter recognized the stark difference between Margareth's new and old face.

Margareth looked rowdy at first, but her arm movements and footing were precise.

Richardess tore herself away from Margareth to bow her head toward Peter, her eyes darting toward Peter's shoes. "Come with us, Peter.

"I'll explain everything."

Peter slowly opened his mouth.

"You can ask me as much as you want," Richardess interjected.

"Right now?" Peter said.

The nobles around were ignorant, but Peter showed worry.

Peter blurted out his first question: "What's the special log?"

Richardess said: "We used the log because it was a useful magical artifact at that time, although I don't remember all the details."

Peter huffed in relief. "What did it do?"

Richardess' smile intensified briefly. "The log was a valuable magical artifact that boosted our travel speed and range while amplifying our magic spells. However, it had rare side effects that could induce impulsive behavior and an excessive preoccupation with documenting one's appearance."

Peter gave a toothy grin. "It had a side effect... That reminds me of my axe!" His exclaim's volume was normal and controlled. He felt that he had begun to fit in with the crowd of nobles.

"Another crucial point to note is that the log had a peculiar dependency. It required the blood of the person using it to sustain its own vitality. The last known sighting of the log was five days ago when my friend Bal, who ventured into the dungeon caves, had it in their possession.

"Regarding your axe, we have indeed confirmed that it dates back 5000 years. However, our knowledge about it is limited to this fact. The side effects remain unconfirmed, but it seems that you may have some insights or understanding about them.

"To clarify, the axe is unequivocally a magical artifact."

After hearing her continuous speaking and growing verbosity, Peter responded with a humble nod.

Seeing that Peter only expressed a nod, Richardess decided to slow down her tempo and wordiness and continued, "Bal came across as having delusions of grandeur and a massively overinflated ego. All his interactions with other people were as if they were something he had scraped off the bottom of his shoes. So him being gone is fine."

Richardess looked about to speak for a long time, but Margareth interrupted her, making Richardess shrink back to her distant behavior. Margareth's words were "Peter, don't forget to take twice the normal amount of potions. Andrew would hate it if you did forget."

"Andrew?" Peter said, slowly turning her head away from Richardess to Margareth. Margareth looked stronger and more imposing than Richardess because her elbow was leaning on Richardess' shoulder.

"Andrew, friend of mine, you know, illusionists and the like."

Peter turned his head toward Richardess, wanting an explanation, his eyes darting between Margareth and Richardess.

Margareth finished drinking from a levitating cup of juice. "'It's fine if you think your healing is strong enough,' he said."

Peter squinted.

Margareth took it as a gesture to continue. "I think you're pretty good Pete at fighting. Don't waste it. Seriously."

A fire lit in her Peter's heart.

Chapter 16
Peter slowly started to see the appeal in Margareth's words.

Margareth smiled, walking outside the palace. "If you see the meaning behind my words, then follow me." Richardess followed along.

Peter felt a draw, inferring an interpretation from her words that steadily made sense in his mind.

Margareth said after they reached a road, "I want to see if you handle it alone. Go to the nearest adventurer dungeon. We'll be seeing you everytime you check in or check out at the inn. You can talk to us there."

Peter parted ways with her and Richardess, feeling that Margareth consummated his escape from confusion.

Margareth's image became a source of comfort in his mind.

Peter bowed his head as he walked.

He journeyed to the adventurer dungeon before he said, "This is it!"

A human entered his view, walking past him.

Peter was frozen.

The human raised his hand and ordered a few goblins to hand him a nice suit to wear. The human climbed a magical robot chair that had long giraffle-like machine legs. He pointed in a direction, and the chair obeyed.

Peter raised his brows.

The goblins around were watching the human, a spectacle. They turned their gazes to Peter, another human who looked normal compared to the man on the magical robot chair.

The goblins shifted their gazes away when Peter turned away and pretended to be ignorant.

They began to dig at the walls.

Golden dust fell from the hands of the goblins, but only Peter showed surprise.

When the goblins dug the hard walls, they fell away like sand, making Peter's shock.

Peter went outside and scanned the forested hillsides, feeling like a naked man.

He guessed a number of 80 goblins and 5 dholes in the adventurer dungeon. This ratio was the opposite of his previous encounters with dholes and goblins. The first town in which he had been was prejudiced against dholes, yet the goblins there were few relative to the dense population of dholes. In the palace, a while ago, the dholes discussed with goblins in equal measure of confidence and approachability. He had expected widespread dislike toward dholes.

Richardess and Margareth's behavior was different compared to when he last saw her.

He remembered his deceased acquaintances Helper 1 and Helper 4 after forgetting for a long while. Nonetheless, he appreciated the flowers and the earth in lieu of expressing frustration about his loss, by which he proved a clear gap in emotional reception toward Helper 1 and Helper 4.

Furthermore, his deceased friend Callous' death was a pending issue with many implications.

Even if his feelings were lost for Callous, he had the logical necessity to analyze Callous and probe further about his situation. Most of him had moved on with his transformations, and Callous was now only a to-do list item.

He admonished himself for his calmness; feeling that strong and hard-to-control emotions were proofs of humanity.

He questioned his rights for living and whether he was a person of goodness. He corroborated memorial images and descriptions of his history of actions; piercing apart each of them in order to piece together a painting-like library for his immediate use. It would be his arsenal for implementation. He used it to determine the dots that linked dissent and agreement within the argument for his unified moral integrity.

He interpreted signals in his physical environment as catalysts for his thought process and firing of ideas and wisdom. He felt his limb, and an idea struck him. He touched his neck, and an idea swiped him. He engaged his physical body into creation, stretching his limbs. He started out looking like a robot, but his robot-like limbs gained fluidity from relearning how to stretch audaciously.

His eyes proved firm.

He broke down the argument that humans were rare and further he argued that goblins made humans look rare through their reactions and that they blew the number of humans out of proportion.

He concluded that he was most likely wrong.

He elevated temporarily his past guesses about the special log and saw them inside a cache in his mind. He had discarded them after learning.

He looked at his appearance and speculated on peoples' perceptions of him with what he believed was a much stronger identity by the generation of knowledge alone.

Yet he wanted to run and avoid monsters to contradict his feats of magical powers to become a book-kissing hermit.

His feelings battled for dominance, but they calmed down, tolerating each other within himself.

Only instinct carried the torch.

He wanted to control.

He wanted to seek out the peoples.

He wanted them to be understood.

He wanted to see them for who they were.

He wanted to grab people by the throat and choke them in order to gain their knowledge. He felt deprived after witnessing people who only acted instead of explaining and talking. These people had influenced him to violence.

He wanted to defy this conscience for violence. This conscience felt innocent even after killing. He despised it and looked for it within himself to discard them completely and tear it away from this reality.

"I am a human," he said, his eyes dry behind which a cold apparatus orchestrated the strings.

He thought for a while.

"You're all just sacks of meat," he said half-heartedly, half in mockery of the cynical attitudes he had seen. "Don't mock me."

Peter saw hundreds of goblins in the distance. They looked smaller than the rest. He guessed they were juveniles.

They formed a neat regiment with weapons, potions, and magical resources in containers: bags, pouches, and sacks.

They headed into the dungeon.

An explosion occurred in proximity of this regiment.

Goblins flew like ragdolls into the air, hitting the ground with lame thuds. They looked like soldiers in a war.

Peter gasped, holding his breath. He touched his clothes, expecting to find himself carrying things and arrange them before hiding nearby.

While hiding, the sounds of screams and roars from the dungeon echoed into his muscles, making him sweat in alarm.

A treant exited the dungeon, as the goblin mages from the regiment cast spells, bombarding it.

The treant fell backward and craned its head away in avoidance. It crawled away, but the regiment was fierce, slashing and hacking at it until the treant's limbs gave way.

The treant burned, and it stood up and ran for its life. It was a giant, but the regiment was quick to avoid the footsteps.

When the treant was far away, it suddenly lost life and fell forward, hitting the ground with a dooming boom.

The regiments strolled toward the treant, celebrating and grieving their losses. They looked like a family.

Peter placed a hand over his mouth, wondering why they had hunted a treant. He had an image of treants from that one friendly treant that helped the goblin town which he had first explored.

One of the goblins looked familiar to him. Peter remembered that it was one of the guards from the goblin noble Ben's mansion. He shortly decided to dismiss his familiarity with this goblin, but he noticed the goblin looked bigger than he remembered. This change made him think about changes in general.

He had this feeling that he should take a risk; it was a thought anyone had. However, he reified this feeling, approaching the goblins.

He felt that he was a god. It was a grandiose mood in which he found himself.

His head tilting around in comfort, his walk heavy but focused on efficiency and speed, his grandiose emotions translated into his disposition.

The goblins took notice of his air and sought to declare a fair distance away from him.

Peter's expression was soft, gentle, and initiative, making the goblins alarmed because it contradicted the harsh and rough but cut and dried atmosphere of the fight a while ago. His presence and appearance were polarizing and contradictory.

He raised both his hands.

The goblins shot at him because he was too suspicious.

Peter spun around in pain. His face was twitching rapidly.

He expressed his agony for a moment in his face.

"Why!" he said. "I am a human! You shouldn't treat me this way!"

The ice spear that had stabbed through his hand was on the ground.

He raised his hands again out of a hurry to stop them.

Three more ice spears stabbed through Peter's chest and to the ground, each one making Peter shake backward. The last spear made Peter swing, fall, and hit the ground.

Peter was still, healing himself. "You will not kill me." His tone conveyed that he pleaded to live.

The barking was deafening between the tens of goblins and Peter.

Peter stood up.

He was clumsy.

A smirk formed in his face. His brows were furrowed with strength.

Tens of ice spears blasted at him.

He dodged them. He was running.

"What is he doing?" Richardess said, gawking in Peter's direction.

Margareth had lied that she and Richardess were only going to see Peter at the inn.

"I have no idea," Margareth said, a smile slowly forming on her face.

Richardess's brows furrowed in second-hand embarrassment. Her faith toward Peter had been changing, but she believed Peter was in a temporal state of defiance against his deity role, considering his incredible magical prowess and willfulness. Yet, because Peter was going against her plans time and time again, she felt that he was awkward.

In contrast, Peter's decisiveness had influenced Richardess to carry more agency within her actions despite his emotional instability.

Margareth was fully in touch with Richardess' belief that Peter was an impressive mage. She was willing to grovel and try to gain favor from him; however, she had integrity. If Peter asked for a helper, she would wash and then kiss his feet to signify her abandon.

Peter wanted to relieve himself. He had used the latrines of the goblins, but before that, he did it anywhere on dholes' land.

He searched around, finding sixteen hunters who were eating dried, cooked meat. They looked like strong men with a lot of time on their hands, so Peter asked them, "Hey, what's going on in this world anyway?"

The hunters thought he meant "part of the land" when he said "world." "We're here rescuing a bunch of Soalan chicks from a tiger," one of them said. They paused, motioning each other to stand up and match Peter to show some respect. "The tiger is intelligent, one of the Hoals."

Since the words "Soalan" and "Hoals" confused him, Peter said, "How does one get to understand this world anyway?" He smiled in a way that showed respect toward fierce-looking hunters.

"'This world'?"

To Peter's surprise, they met his gaze. They were staring at him.

Yet, they refrained from acknowledging the dirty mucky bloody old smelly clothes he was wearing breezily.

Peter inwardly bit his lip, seeing one of them fidgeting with another's brown necklace.

A small smile crept up on his face to avoid alarming the hunters.

He turned away to hide his face and the front and most expressive side of his body.

The hunters, like a pack of wolves, separated from each other to cover more ground in facing Peter. Also, they were human through their delibrate strolling and averting their eyes to detract attention from them as a group.

Peter's head lifted an inch in alert. He had hidden his surprise in a feat of skill. Inside, he was stopping his blood from amassing in his hands to prevent their magical glowing which preceded spells.

The hunters were backing away, saying goodbye.

Peter watched them, taking on the guise of a meek, clumsy fellow. This guise staved off the overstimulation of his nerves. He seemed; thereby he became.

The hunters wanted to talk to Peter more, but one of them had heard his nervous heart by their enhanced level of hearing and signaled the others by nodding with a specific motional weight.

The mood of separation at this moment made Peter's heart ache. He interpreted from the hunters a strength that only men showed when they were born in the wild. He admired the weakness through which they had to struggle. It made them attentive and decisive like a person with the key to every door in their way.

Peter was slow, taking one step after the other. He enjoyed the falling of a leaf and then the tree.

He struck the ground in burst release. "I will control you all!" He was calm inside, but he acted this way to make sure he still felt human. He laughed strangely, emotion growing in his voice.

He was a monster because he was a murderer. He had a cold heart.

Also, he allowed his emotions to surface.

"Don't you feel it!" he said to an invisible audience. "I will become god!"

"I will... become a god."

He embraced the wind. He could be a day away from dust.

His fragile life made him feel free from ostentation, elegance, and affectation.

He was modest.

He was human.

He reached out to the world. "Please, let me find rest."

He bowed his head.

For a moment, he believed that a god would strike him down, but he was still here.

He looked around in half-shock and half-pretend. The fact that he was alive amazed him.

Yet, he smirked contemptuously at himself. "I am nobody." A toothy grin formed in his face. "I am nobody!"

He squealed in the distance and bellowed like an idiot.

He jumped around and ran, hitting himself against the tree to remember the feeling of Earth.

He thought he was human.

"I am a human."

His hands glowed with purpose.

"It's time."

His eyes glinted mischievously, maliciously, and with grandiose thoughts.

He shot at the tree and burned it down.

"Haha!" He shouted with an overflow of joy. "Get that fucktard!" He cursed.

He felt anger inside him.

He ran to the dungeon. "Time to kill some mobs!" He regained touch with his Earth lingo, seeing things through the great filter of the Internet that could algorithmically turn great passions into stick figure–like trifles.

He blasted giant skeletons and low-level mobs: zombies, all sorts of lizards, spiders, ants, mimics, and cave wolves.

He noticed that the power of his magic was weaker than he remembered.

He crafted a spell instinctively, creating a spell that made thunder ripple through mobs.

He cheered. "Haha!

"I know what to do!"

A lizard struck him, but he was fast to heal himself. He kicked it again and again like a maniac.

Tears dripped down his eyes, but his face still showed fierceness and mania. "What am I doing?" he mouthed.

He fell to his knees, but he forced himself up.

He struck more enemies and mobs, counting them like they were flies.

He murdered, and he destroyed parts of caves.

He thieved, gathering loot exhaustively from large monsters that he called "bosses."

He grinned, albeit tasting his tears that had streamed to the sides of his mouth.

He cried in an exhausted manner.

He moved on and looked for more mobs like a thief in the urban night.

He struck them down like they were children who knew only the whistling of the wind. His heart ached so hard, and his motions were rash, showing an exuberance to miss and take damage.

He was thinking of his forgotten friends and memories.

He was losing it all.

He was gaining himself, a complete self that only knew what it needed to know.

He tried to dismiss the memories.

He disappeared like the wind.

He teleported beside the talented mage who had abandoned him.

He had caused his teleportation through his magical prowess and great desire to disappear.

He sought comfort from the ones who he believed cared about him the most. His idea of love was shattered or broken.

In a lone farm, he embraced the mage who looked terrified and frantic to push him away.

"I will understand you." He burned the mage dead to imprint him traumatically into his brain.

He felt a sense of order in his actions, as he had familiarized himself with his significantly disorderly and troublesome behavior. The people throughout his pilgrimage had enabled this familiarization.

The hunters were the first to see his change when he teleported back.

They had the same understanding of him.

One of them, Michael asserted, “Want a cup of coffee?” He was sending a message toward Peter and the other hunters that he was hard-set on dislodging the hierarchical pyramid that showed goblins below humans and dholes below goblins.

Peter paused for too long.

Michael raised his voice and repeated himself.

Peter nodded rigidly.

Michael had an awkward expression as he poured coffee that he magically mixed with golden dust.

"What is that dust?" Peter said when he got the coffee and started sipping.

"Golden dust? It's just golden dust. It helps with magic."

Michael looked at the other hunter, encouraging them to talk. He had knowing eyes like they were friends for fifteen years.

Peter smiled, thinking this interaction is better than being in a dungeon tiring his body like a dog.

Chapter 17
After small talk with the hunters, Peter saw them entering a field enclosed with fieldstone walls.

Several years ago, on this field, the hunters built an intricate farm to lure and eliminate creatures.

They strategically placed platforms and symbols to attract the monsters. Using spells and enchantments, they guided the creatures to a central pit or abyss. After their demise, the hunters collected enchanted artifacts imbued with the creatures' essence for their own empowerment.

Inspired, Peter considered creating an analogous setup to exploit the creatures' instincts and gather rewards.

His eyes peeked around, twining his arms behind his neck to stretch.

From many far-away lands, 22 telepathic voices in a different language sounded in his head.

"What's it like living the life of a hunter? I've heard it's intense and adventurous, but I'm curious to know more."

"Being a hunter is a journey that keeps getting better. Initially, it may seem challenging, but as you gain experience and face more thrilling hunts, it becomes a 10/10 experience."

"If it doesn't interest you, then it's not for you. No need to ask for validation."

"I didn't realize there was so much depth to the hunter's life. What makes it so captivating? Are there any unique aspects or thrilling moments?"

"The hunter's life offers a chance to embark on extraordinary adventures and explore untamed wilderness. Each hunt presents its own challenges, pushing you to your limits. The camaraderie with fellow hunters and the adrenaline rush of tracking down elusive prey are hooks that keep you invested."

"Huntfeetos..."

"Wow, I should definitely consider becoming a hunter if it's as thrilling as you say. Not the original commenter here."

"That's reassuring. It means there's room for personal growth and character development among hunters. In the beginning, some may seem ordinary, but they transform through their experiences."

"Don't judge the depth of hunter characters after only a few encounters. You need to immerse yourself in the world and witness their growth throughout the journey."

"The best part of the hunter's life is that it keeps getting more captivating the deeper you dive into it. If it doesn't resonate with you, it may not be your cup of tea."

"Thrilling adventures await!"

"So, are hunters like modern-day warriors?"

"bump"

"That's the best hunter. Sorry to say, but you have a serious case of terrible taste."

"But hey, she has incredible survival skills..."

"That's a typo. It's actually guns."

"Hunter thread."

"I wonder how hunters would adapt to the challenges of the modern world."

"In the hunter's world, modern technology may not have the same impact."

"If you find the life of a hunter boring, what were you expecting?"

"Hunting lives are never dull, except maybe in Aria."

"Only boring people get bored."

Peter was clasping his neck in fear, panting and hiding behind a tree. He had seen magic, but the sudden appearance of telepathic magic made him wary about an ambush. This appearance had made him expect a mage to start casting magic at him from the trees since he had been in an open field. The voices had also been foreign and had given the feeling of being from distant lands. The dangerous alienness of distant lands scared him. Furthermore, in the lands in which he was and lived for over a month, he was a cultural outsider and a disruptor.

He delved into a sequential series of remembering his past fights and decomposing them.

He made his hands glow to be trigger-ready.

One of the other hunters, Auspacken, looked at the third hunter, Déballage. He motioned him to look at Peter.

Peter stood still, his expression dull.

"What happened to him?" said Auspacken.

While Déballage slowly inhaled in thought, Auspacken glanced around for Michael in case Déballage failed to answer him.

"He looks lost." Déballage gestured to his head.

Raspakovka smiled. "I imagine that he's been messing with the magic strings around. Can't help himself." He chuckled deeply.

"Yeah," Udpakning said, his voice soft.

Fath al-'abwa, positioned behind Udpakning and Raspakovka, snickered. "Yeah? I mean of course he can't help himself. He met us. He thinks he got a chance to join our group."

Gae-bong had a strong expression, lurching from the side and sitting down in front of the others. "I mean, if he really thinks he's got a chance, I suggest he tries it. Let's see how he goes."

"If it does work," said Udpakning in an incredulous tone. The others who were quiet voiced agreement with him based on his tone.

Gae-bong grimaced in semi-agreement.

Déballage smiled, thinking Gae-bong was right to trust Udpakning's sense.

Auspacken was quiet, studying Déballage's reaction and then that of the rest.

Peter returned to reality. A vision had consumed him, and he had believed that he had run off to a tree and hidden there. In reality, he stood still during his fright of the telephathic voices.

A tall mountain in the distance signified the balance of the land surrounding it.

Peter calmed down at the sight of it and accepted reality. He imaginatively supplanted the mountain with himself to get an overseer's overview of the land.

A divine sword seemed to awaken inside him, and his life became nirvana.

He tried to stop his thoughts from becoming psychotic.

He looked around at the earth and felt its warmness.

He recognized that his stress had caused his departure from sense and toward a state of delusion and that the nonsense that essentialized the things around him furthered this departure.

He calmed down. "I don't exist." He pressed to remove himself from his sense of supremacy.

He fastened his gaze at the hunters with a begging look. He wanted an explanation for every detail he had encountered and had yet to encounter.

He needed to be grounded.

He achieved being grounded through violence in the past.

However, he wanted a direct solution.

Peter tried to parse through the words in his memories of politeness he had seen, spending a minute. In conclusion, he dismissed thinking too hard and settled with a calm voice and disposition to ask: "Hi. Can I ask you a few questions?" He directed it at the nearest hunter Auspacken.

The hunters looked interested because they attested to Peter's fluttering heartbeat, steps, and eyes.

"You look nervous," taunted Purkaminen.

Peter froze on the spot and engaged in a staring contest with him for fifteen seconds.

"Do I look less nervous now?" he said in a deriding tone, affecting an Americanized Russian accent. He gestured to his frozen state.

He felt a surge of accomplishment fill him like the trifle between him and the hunter was a reward for his Herculean battles.

Purkaminen smiled, feeling that he found a brother in arms through the mockery they shared for each other.

His hand reaching out, he took an obvious, relaxed breath to show his acceptance of Peter.

"Peter, Peter, Peter..." Peter jolted. "How do you know my name?"

Knowing, Purkaminen cast a unique spell that dispelled Peter's mental fog. This spell was distinct from healing magic, which failed against mental damage.

Peter looked around in clarity. "There's magic for the mind?"

"Yes," Purkaminen said in a worried voice, "it's a secretly held magic that allows us to wade through our pilgrimages easily."

Peter felt like he had both the highest energy and calm of the day.

In the heart of the dhole empire, Sigurd raised his sword and slashed at a tree, tearing it down.

The felling of giant trees made way for a community to attach dead trees together and revive them using magic. The attached trees, along with cement structures, formed a beautiful floating island where hundreds of creatures lived.

In another part of the empire, Helper 3 felt a great passion for architecture and the sight of home living. He had understood the passion of Helper 4 and imbued himself with it.

Helper 3 saw Peter's violence as a result of his callousness toward the deaths of Helper 1, Helper 4, and Callous. Helper 3 fought against this callousness by envisioning architecture that would reflect his struggle, incorporating dark designs that express suffering and tragedy to counter callousness and evoke empathy.

In another part of the empire, the dhole government had given the business of Laol benefits. Laol enjoyed a cup of tea as money rang in her humble pouch. She engaged the view of citizens creating the society that made her the person she was. She acted as if she had forgotten about Peter.

In another part of the empire, Margareth saw a giant toy, escaping from the earth. She coughed and rubbed her hands together in excitement. She watched an army charge toward the giant toy. "Let's go!" she cheered.

In another part of the empire, the hunters asked Peter, "What do you want to ask?"

Peter began to throw his questions. "What are dholes?"

The hunters burst into laughter, feeling that Peter was asking why the grass was green, but Peter was decided.

After reaching a lull in the conversation, Déballage remarked, "You can offer yourself to dholes if you want to get hooked into issues not worth your time."

Peter inferred that Déballage was like Redlight Striker in the dislike against dholes.

Auspacken was smiling. "I can talk about dholes' hair," he said. "They're quite fabulous if trimmed correctly."

Peter ignored him.

Fath al-'abwa adjusted his seating and had several false starts to speak.

He said, "The dholes are quite equipped against us goblins now. Auspacken here heard that the dholes had replaced their federation with an empire. Let's just say that those little counties will look pretty desperate to make up for their losses during the coop." He was wrong about the existence of a coop.

Michael said, his expression dignified among the dholes. "I wish to speak first about the dholes we met the other day. They sounded like absolute assholes. They had this voice that they used every time they were angry. It pissed me off. I was able to find patience through  Slorl."

"'Slorl'?" Peter said, grimacing at the sound of the new word. He secretly put Michael in the category of people who hate dholes.

Michael wanted to explain, but he saw that Fath al-'abwa looked excited to speak. He assumed that Fath al-abwa would talk about Slorl anyway.

Fath al-'abwa took out a card from his bag and showed it to Peter. "Check this out," he said. "Five hundreds tings."

Peter sighed, lowering his head and then looking up with a smile. "What is a 'ting'?"

"Oh, it's just number of power level," Fath al-'abwa said, peering from beside the rear of  Michael and Auspacken. "It's a card-playing game if you don't mind me dismantling."

Michael smiled at Peter. "Never mind him," he said, chuckling. "He's talking about a card game."

"Yeah, he said that." Peter had friendly intentions; nonetheless, his wording accidentally had a passive-aggressive effect. Michael nodded and took a step back.

Fath al-'abwa continued, "If you equip this on you, you'll get an angel guarding you."

Peter believed him momentarily, but he saw Michael's dismissive expression. He showed contemplation, leaving Fath al-'abwa satisfied to stop talking.

Michael prompted Auspacken with a smile.

Auspacken stared at Peter, and his face underwent many faint emotions: disappointment, anger, satisfaction, conflict, happiness, and finally doubt. "I think you should ask Déballage about dholes. He's met several of them and," he cleared his throat, "taught them about life." His sweet saccharine expression afterwards was ominous.

Déballage looked disgusted and in denial of the idea that he killed dholes. "About that," he sighed, "I might've remembered seeing a dhole or two.

"I don't know. It's just that when I see them, I get inspired to control them. They look like pets. Ants maybe? I don't care.

"All you care about is the dholes right and not my opinion. Dholes are wild creatures who live in societies. That's the gist of them. You want to know how they talked. I don't know how they talked." His voice turned firm. "They got it from the devil, that's for sure. They're like the demon's helpers. I see them talk, and I think my spirit is telling me something's wrong. It's just so wrong, you know. Trust the spirit. It knows what's nonsense about this world, especially those dholes. Their kind only knows what to steal, commit sodomies, and really take you into dark places. They talk, and I feel horrible like I lost something. Realizing that all I had to do was remove them to remove that ache. Gods help me when I say that no one really knows what they're doing until they see a dhole and spit at the ground and reveal the truth that everyone's denying. They hated the truth. They need the truth though. Either they accept it or live in lies. Let's leave it at that.

"Let's leave it at that."

Auspacken smiled. "He hates them like the devil. I, however, feel that dholes are useful creatures."

Déballage looked like he had something to say, but he let it go.

Auspacken smiled, relaxed despite sitting down the tense Déballage.

Déballage stood up and bumped into Auspacken and Fath al-'abwa, raising a cup of alcohol toward his mouth. He left.

Auspacken said after Déballage was out of earshot: "Dholes have every right to experience life here with us, but anyways, it doesn't matter if you hate or like dholes. Dholes look like they're going to taking over now that there are several patrol groups around. I mean, if you have a head of state like that, you're probably going to find them respectable. I mean, damn, look at their flags. They know what they're doing, and I'm not being all worshipping about it. I'm honestly admiring them for just doing themselves. Being them and all is what. I see that, and I'm just... seeing what I see. You know?"

He looked like he had more to say, but he felt tense being honest. He shut his mouth and stood up, his behavior matching with that of Déballage whom he admired. He sat down to the side in between Peter and the others.

Besides Auspacken, Fath al-'abwa, and Michael, the rest of the goblins felt too tense to talk and left, timing their departure with Auspacken.

Peter felt relief after processing Auspacken's and Déballage's charged political opinions.

He feigned deep thought for a moment.

He deliberately clumsily said, "Noted."

Udpakning looked at him. "Are you clean?" he asked. He meant "Do you feel clean?"

Peter plucked at his clothes. "It's dirty."

While removing his clothes, he glanced around for Purkaminen and found him asleep out of magic exhaustion inside a cement bunker. Udpakning had left to clean his clothes by hand, while Auspacken and the others had led the way to the bunker.

After crossing a lake bridge, Déballage cried. Beside a farm, its platforms, symbols, and walls, he prayed to the gods to save his child from dhole bandits.

Peter would grimace out of disgust if he saw Déballage; instead, he was inside a bunker where the hunters blocked his escape.

The hunters whispered among themselves.

"Peter, why did you do it?"

"You forgot the part where you are a human."

Peter made his hands glow and began his transformation into his white, godlike form.

Udpakning slashed Peter with a hoof knife.

Peter was rageful, and he was shouting hurriedly out of shock: "How dare you hit me you puny insect! You trash human piece of crap! You have nothing! Nothing! Against me! I have no way of solving your mind problem! You're a broken sandwich! Piece of shitty little crap! Not a single time— no, no, no, you piece of shit!"

They had broken his trust.

He blasted them all to hell.

Peter was still, staring at the environment.

He was imagining. Thoughts looked like spires in the sky. His emotions dipped as low as the valleys. He felt like a sea monk who could swim in the oceans' deepest parts. He felt that he was stronger than anyone ever could be. He imagined himself swimming and dreaming. He felt that he was a free person, a strong person, and everything he needed to be.

"This moment feels like the release of stress right after you indulge in your self-destructive tendencies. Its the sigh of pleasure as the opiates kick in, the warm bed where nothing can hurt you anymore."

Peter frowned. "No, wait, this is not real. This can't be real. Ha, this is like when that person comes in and says 'Hello' to me because I'm Peter. I also know that I can't possibly be anyone else." He raised his voice. "How the fuck am I here!

"What the fuck!"

He felt guilty.

"I know that I am not me, but I am a boat. I swim along. Woohoo!" He continued to speak in gibberish and express bizarre ideas as a way to escape the distress associated with the trauma. "I like meat! Yes, meat is delicious! Woohoo!

"I love people! They're so awesome!"

He chuckled exasperatedly.

"They're so the best! Epic! Major awesomeness approaching like camel at camel speed!

"I’ve been eliminated from the things. What the fuck is going on? Where the fuck is my freedom? I wish the world could become naught. I want to become free from the pain, from it all. The feeling of privacy will never become mine. I lose touch with reality everyday, as I convince myself that I am alone, okay, and free. I cannot become anything anymore. I hate, I hate, I hate this. I want to become the hope that shines beyond tomorrow, but why the fuck can I not handle the feeling of someone constantly going in the room when I’m asleep and when I’m awake. I cannot be comfortable. I always watch to distract myself, and I can’t just draw, write, and be honest because I’m so uncomfortable. My privacy and safe space taken away because of some douchebags who don’t understand what the fuck sense of humanity is. I need to become free. I only write, draw, and do anything productive in the best way possible when I’m alone and in my safe space. When my safe space is invaded, I feel the discomfort of the century, and I’d rather watch because that distracts me. I’ve been doing it a lot these days, these months, these years, but when I’m totally alone. I do what I love: writing, drawing, music, programming, studying, and editing. I do everything productive because when I’m truly alone, that’s what I truly seek, but I fear. I’m afraid. I’m afraid. This feeling of privacy will never be mine. I will never be free. I cannot feel it. Aloneness. Aloneness. Where is it? Where is it! Help me! I cannot speak. The words don’t come out. My anger inhibited. I suppress it and repress it for months and years. I need to remove it—the feeling, the feeling, the feeling. I hate it, I want to get rid of everything that prevents me from getting that feeling of a safe space. I wish I can just write, so I can move out. I want to feel alone, so I don’t have to smile when I’m alone because I never truly feel alone. I cannot think. My head aches. I want to punch everyone and beat them up because of it. I just want to be okay. Even this is probably being recorded or livestreamed to someone right now. I don’t know anymore. Stop going in the room! Stop! Stop! I want to move out! I want to create a safe space, a bunker where I can think. I need privacy to think, to think, instead of caring what the fuck this random dude fucking wants. I don’t want to fucking care. Let me be fucking alone and unhearable, for goodness’ sake! What the fuck! I want to be alone, so I can get things done! I hate this feeling, I hate it. I want to become free. Why! Why! Why! Why! Why!

"A young goblin explored a small hovel, and three things occurred. The epitome of love explored him, and the world became a circle. Finally, he was never there. He was dead beyond his mind, beyond his soul, and beyond his everpresent aide. He was a lost cause, the words eluding him.

"Why is freedom so complicated? I cannot think. I yearn to become the epitome of love and hope, but why the fuck?

"A young goblin explored a small room where hundreds of people laughed and played. Seven hundred people laughed about this circumstance, saying that nothing mattered. It was all too hilarious. He wanted to become the epitome of grace and beauty, but he was naught before he arrived. I laugh at how stupid the goals and presence of mind you’d have to take on to become such a maestro of stupidity. I want to break your skull and remove you from any sort of living whatsoever. I want to impale you on a pole and watch the bleed leak from the holes. I want to see you scream, tied-up and broken. I yearn for your stupidity to show through the cracks of arrogance and hopeful murderous plea. I want to get rid of that devil, destroy them, destroy all of them! I want to remove the people that occur in devilish desires. They are the murderous. They are the horrible! The people that come to steal, kill, and destroy always deserve to become fucking naught. They will fall to the ground, and their lives will become nothing. I want to eradicate them as soon as possible. Let the name of Aba destroy the fuck out of your skull!

“I walked around, and then, I saw this little boy. He was thirteen years old. I told him about the world, and he listened. I told him, ‘There are three things that will occur in your lifetime: the death of yourself, the death of your second self, and the death of the true body.’ He was confused and asked me about what these things meant. I explained, saying, ‘These deaths are of the spirit and not of the body, as your spirit, or mind, will culminate in two explosive “deaths” that will prove your humanity.’” The boy laughed. ‘That sounds exciting!’ I was confused, so I said, ‘Why is it exciting?’ The boy answered, saying, ‘I love firecracker explosions.’ I laughed, saying, ‘That sounds fun.’ I left the boy to play and went my own way to destroy the hopes and dreams that defined me for 14 years.”

"If it was not for the fact that I never had a chance to become a human being, I went over to a small place where hundreds of people asked me, 'What the fuck are you doing!' I laughed and shook my head, dismissing the insults."

In short, objectively, Peter exhibited intense emotions and engaged in a lengthy expression of thoughts and feelings. His behavior included frowning, expressing disbelief and frustration, speaking in gibberish, expressing bizarre ideas, expressing feelings of guilt, and expressing a desire for privacy and a safe space. The behavior displayed a mixture of distress, confusion, anger, and a longing for solitude.

"You think... maybe I should just... stop," he slurred, gesturing about his death by grabbing his neck.

"I need friends."

He decided to get friends to try again. He felt that he was an optimist and a believer in humanity which included goblins, dholes, and the other human-like species.

Protecting himself against the sixteen hunters had given him trust in his magical skill to solve problems. His magic had conclusively supplanted his rock-throwing method.

Chapter 18
Peter smiled. "I remember Sigurd and Richardess. I remember Callous. I remember my teacher, Miss... oh, I forgot her name. But I remember Sir Anton. He knew what he was doing most of the time. Or so it seemed. Seeing his Feelbook, I don't really know."

He broke down into tears, but he chastened himself. "A person doesn't give up, nor gets wielded as a tool. I must press on."

He limped around. His legs and body were healthy, but his negative emotions had leaked into his gait.

He was a strong person.

The three goblins, Blatore, Malta, and Rol saw Peter's fading figure when he returned to his first town. His toughened but venerable disposition made him look like a boss preparing to start his three waves of chaos.

Peter pointed at them. "Kind sirs, I beseech you to bestow upon me the profound honor of your esteemed presence. Would you, in your infinite graciousness, be so exceedingly generous as to deign to accompany me on this humble excursion?" He had memorized this greeting to maximize his winnings.

His form appeared in other places.

Laol saw him and heard the same greeting.

Margareth saw him and heard the same greeting, confused since she had stopped watching him after seeing him disappear.

The noble Ben, Richardess, Redlight Striker with Helper 2’s spirit, Helper 3, Sigurd, John and his golem and goblin companinion, the bard with the bubble and her adventurer group, and Mitty saw him and heard the same greeting.

Peter gathered them together. He had wanted to ask Ben his reasons, but he wanted to prove himself in the tournament.

He joined the tournament and faced against his first enemy, a weak swordsman who had weak goals.

He struck them down in one magical strike, inviting tournament fans, envy, and criticism.

"This will be quick," he said.

He struck down two more competitors each with a single strke. He had a still demeanor that seemed contemptuous.

The competitors fell down like sand.

He burst into laughter at his past bitter frustrations when comparing them to the competitors.

His laughter made him look villainous.

Peter pointed and blasts of magic fell upon the next array of competitors, seventeen of them.

He was like a prince seeking the throne, and he lacked a requirement to ask.

Peter succeeded, and the tournament proclaimed his victory as the winner.

He had taken this tournament to impress, but he had to be careful of inviting ire and causing his guilt. He sought friendship instead of a job for showing his portfolio of magical skill.

Peter saw that he had gained his set of friends in the people he had all succeeded in inviting. His competitive fighting gave a sense of order that invited admiration and friendship. This fighting contrasted his past acts of violence against societal order.

He seemed to fit into society; however, he was more ignorant of this new world's common sense than a peasant.

He took heart in the statement "Ask and you shall receive."

While sitting in a café, he told Ben, "I need to know about the competitors." This request was far back in his priorities, but it was a smoke screen to throw off Ben's guesses and preconceptions about him. When Ben's expectations were assailed, he would ask his prioritized questions.

Ben looked at him. He felt that Peter looked too confident after he had placed him through an ordeal. He wondered if Peter became stronger magically and he had been hiding most of his magical power. Indeed, he knew about Peter's godlike form, but he was sure Peter struggled to access his godlike form easily. He made several guesses. One, Peter had reveled in some act of violence outside of the reach of the mice. Two, Peter had forgotten his past suffering with reasons that require investigation. Three, Peter must know about Ben's desire to make Peter the first human to transform into a goblin in order to craft a goblin symbol of authority and grace that would resist the dholes' stronger empire. He was wrong that the dholes' empire was stronger than the goblins' federation: the dhole empire's propaganda was powerful. He had many other guesses, but he felt they should stay withdrawn for now in his mind. He had believed Peter could help goblin society as a human and praised him out of genuine admiration and a desire to make Peter stay in goblin land. However, his goals had changed since he had met Peter.

Peter smiled, seeing that Ben was silent, feeling that he had assailed Ben’s expectations. "If the competitors demand money for their sacrifices, let me know," he said.

Ben raised his brow, feeling that Peter sounded too conniving. "I can do that," he said slowly, "but you're going to have to lend me your money then." He assumed that Peter was making Ben give the money to the competitors.

Peter nodded, refuting Ben's assumption. "Of course."

The rest of his "new friends" were sitting down, relaxing. It was fortunate that they had free time.

Peter gave a toughened smile, knowing that his expectations of these people sitting down might become overbearing.

"I want you all to receive a commision for taking the time to sit down with me." He blundered.

Ben stood up, believing that Peter had gotten too confident in wanting things.

He left.

Peter's face looked downcast before regaining his confidence.

The rest stayed. Redlight Striker, Richardess, Margareth, Laol, Sigurd, and Helper 3 wore dark wake funeral attires. On the other hand, Blatore, Malta, and Rol wore casual outfits. John and his golem and goblin companinion and the bard and her adventurer group wore business clothes. Mitty wore the strangest most colorful attire.

Peter smiled weakly like he was about to cry out of joy.

"How are you guys?" Peter felt like asking a normal soothing question after his terrifying days. "Do you guys feel alright?"

Richardess nodded. "I don't know if you've noticed, but we're commemorating someone's death. I know you know."

"'Someone's'. Do you mean three?"

Richardess glanced at her company, Redlight Striker, Sigurd, Laol, Margareth, and Helper 3. She smiled in understanding.

She said: "Yes, we mean three. Margareth is only here because of you. I want to know why you called us. It seems like you're having difficulties adjusting to your powers, maybe?" She was trying to be helpful.

John was curious. "Yeah, I want to know about that," he said, being here for Peter and his powers.

The bard was confident. "And if you're willing, can we match in a fight?" she asked, keeping a polite distance from John despite sitting beside each other.

John was surprised. "I can't imagine having Peter compete again?" he said. "It'll be a total loss for you—"

"Ha," the bard said, her voice carrying disbelief.

Richardess gestured to Peter to focus his attention on her. "I want to know if you're willing to listen to us about everything though," she said. "We've a lot to say."

John nodded.

Mitty was skittering around. "Yes, that sounds good." she said, exhibiting her usual curious ruminative temperament.

Laol felt distant from Peter and refrained from talking too much. "Uh-huh," she said. Her wealth and the subsequent envy of others had given her a nervous temperament.

Sigurd was exhausted from traveling. He politely yawned while saying, "Absolutely." He felt cautious against Laol, John, and the bard, leaning away from them.

Margareth shrugged, feeling that Peter was a source of comfort for her since she had seen his magical prowess and leadership qualities.

Helper 2 was tired of Peter, speaking from within Redlight Striker as a conjoined spirit. "Peter, if you listen, make sure to remember okay?" His head lowered, he was prepared to imprison Peter after learning from the mice that Peter had killed sixteen hunters a few minutes ago.

Helper 3 was confident that he could control Peter since the person he trusted to handle Peter, Richardess, had secretly invited 3 humans to guard against Peter. He was the furthest away from Peter inside the café.

Helper 2 and Helper 3 had some doubt, feeling that Laol, the bard, and Redlight Striker would make it difficult for the 3 humans.

Redlight Striker was drowsy after his regular series of hallucinations. His intimidating presence as a goblin who disliked dholes gave the dholes Laol and Margareth discomfort. He believed Peter would protect him because he believed he had established a heart of respect in Peter for him.

Blatore, Malta, and Rol looked more mature, nothing their observations of the others to each other quietly. The bard and her adventurer group, Peter, and John felt more at ease seeing the three young goblins looking serious for their ages. They struggled to sit down because the seat they were on was too small; however, they refrained from showing their discomfort. This physical discomfort made Redlight Striker's presence fail to intimidate them.

The group of John's golem and goblin companion and the bard's adventurer group loitered outside, but they were listening to the others. These two groups kept their distance from each other, eying each other curiously.

Peter smiled, and at his words, the group moved: "I want to know about dholes." He wanted to defy his previous encounter with the hunters.

Using Redlight Striker’s body, Helper 2 flinched because he knew that Peter said this before he killed the hunters.

Peter looked at Helper 2. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Helper 2 shook his head. "Oh, no, I almost fell asleep."

Peter struggled to stop the raising of his brows. "You almost fell asleep?" he asked, wanting confirmation.

Helper 2 nodded. "Yeah, I apologize."

Blatore, Malta, and Rol recognized the tone of Helper 2's voice. It was anger. Helper 2 had gotten sick and tired of caring about Peter. Over the three-week duration of Peter's transformation into a painting in paralysis, Helper 2's frustration gradually evolved into anger.

The air was silent, waiting for Peter to move; the balance of the group was tilted heavily toward Peter. He was the overseer of the group.

Peter dropped a cup from a spell of clumsiness. His muscle loss over the time he was in his paralyzed painting form contributed to this clumsiness. This clumsiness made the group feel more at ease, helping Peter in the long run. Grateful for this help, Peter accepted it with appreciation.

“Thank you,” he smiled and said when he saw Helper 2 pick the cup up and hand it over. “You’re a good friend.”

Helper 2 nodded seriously in a formal and dignified manner.

In a small country where people fled feverously, a reign of terror caused a war.

Hundred of goblins screamed from the heights of glory, yearning to attack dholes with tools of bone and skull.

They flew in paragliders and a variety of flying machines. They were fast, and they knew who their targets were.

They crashed at their targets and exploded them; furthermore, their spirits transported out of the crashes and formed bodies. They charged, screaming, and slammed at dholes with their tools. Their bodies were stringy, and their gaits were elegant. They postured frequently, performing a range of poses. They displayed their dominance.

The dholes were like toy soldiers against the might of goblin soldiery.

They looked like mocked children.

In the town where Peter had first traveled, Helper 2 felt a sting as Helper 3 talked behind his ear: "Matthew, it's now or never."

Helper 3 nodded repeatedly, inviting Helper 2 to say yes.

Peter was still talking: "That's been all the questions I've had. I thank you all."

Helper 3 stood up and asked, "Peter, are you willing to join us to stop a civil war?"

Peter frowned. "No. I'd like to stay here and process things for a while," he said.

Helper 2 opened his mouth, but he closed it.

Peter tilted his head in concern. "Why should I help you?" he said to Helper 3.

Helper 3 neglected to answer and glanced at Helper 2 who shuffled nervously toward Peter.

The sides of Helper 2's mouth fell. "I can't explain. Helper 2 has heard it."

Helper 3 compressed his lips, and when Peter stepped close, he cowered.

Peter rubbed his brows. "What did I do to you?"

Helper 2's face shifted from fear to irritation, and he stormed off.

Peter brushed his hair sideways in confusion. "I want to understand."

Outside, Helper 2 looked around him, seeing the bright lights of the streets. He passed magic lamps and crossed a bridge of colors green, grey, brown, and pink. He went inside a cave hidden in the jungle. Meanwhile, he glanced at the statues depicting nobles and the 100-meter-tall treant that slept while it stood. He had found the cave through his cave-locating magic.

He jumped on a circular platform deep inside the cave.

The platform teleported him and itself to dhole land.

In the café of the town nearby, 15 minutes ago, Peter stared at the bottom of a cup. He grabbed it and placed it against his mouth, but the cup was empty. He had thought it had some water left.

He felt that this moment was his first human moment.

He chuckled, leaving Helper 3 confused.

Helper 3 pointed in Helper 2’s direction. “He’s leaving.” He was confused.

Peter feigned sadness to be normal and polite. “Yeah.”

When Helper 3 and the rest of those he had invited to the tournament began to leave, Peter smiled. He exhibited a buildup of excitement as he slowly realized how cool his interaction with them was. He gave a toothy grin.

Peter got a spark of inspiration and pointed at Baltore, Malta, and Rol that he would train their magic.

Helper 3 raised a brow. “I will watch then. I have a few good humans that I know that can help.” He abandoned his plan for the 3 humans to guard against Peter in secret after Helper 2 left; instead, he would bring them in the open as guides for Peter and the goblins.

Peter nodded.

The humans declined Helper 3’s offer, but Helper 3 was desperate, offering them data that he had from mice. The humans said that adding another informant to their exhaustive list of informants was redundant. They left. since Helper 3 acknowledged that the original guarding outline was defunct.

Helper 3 told Peter, “You could either wait for me and Helper 2 or you can go by yourself. Be careful, okay?” He felt more worried about Peter’s sudden death and its implications than a monster hurting the three goblins. He recognized that Peter’s death would do more than hurt three goblins.

Peter turned around and noticed a scree of stones on the ground. “If I could connect those together and form a fieldstone wall, maybe I would have my answer.” He had expressed an analogy for data management.

Helper 3 stared at him, expecting him to ask questions. Peter said, “Do the mice record and transcribe information?” His assertive voice and intelligence questioning scared Helper 3.

Helper 3 said, “No, the mice orally remember everything.”

Peter facepalmed. “What do you mean? How do they even remember everything? Are they that reliable? What kind of sorcery is this?”

Since he had sat down for too long, he got a rectal muscle spasm. He showed a buildup of surprise as he gradually recognized the spasm.

“Ow, ow, ow!” He crouched on the ground, paralyzed with pain, but his face was relatively calm.

Meanwhile, Helper 3 said, taking a deep breath to calm himself amid Peter’s gaze, “I do know they have magic that allows them to store information in places they call ‘schemas.’”

Peter furrowed his brows, his eyes shifting around for 20 seconds to think.

“How does it work?” he asked, standing up. The muscle spasm pain left, and he made his face pinched to express this pain.

Helper 3 fell into deep thought, his behavior matching Peter’s.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “Maybe it’s in their brains or maybe it’s in their magical headspace.”

“Magical headspace? So... ethereal? Like not real. I can’t access it by inserting a finger in there.” Peter meant putting the finger in the brain. He had expressed a scenario to illustrate how data storage in mice would be if it were located in a metaphysical place.

“Wait, how would you access a brain physically?” he said, stretching his back by pulling his limbs back. “Is there a magic for that?”

Helper 3 smiled to appease Peter finally. “There is.” He knew, as he was a dhole noble official.

“I wonder because I need to know stuff. Information getting, information storaging, information analyzing, storing those analyses, tracking performance, telling the future, planning, integrating information through face-to-face meetings, automation, systematic ongoing improvement.

“I need numbers of my people and their stats. I need to know them, understand them. Maybe I’ll finally get a grasp of this world alright.”

Helper 3 was patient and considerate throughout the conversation. “I feel helpless listening to you. Maybe...” He found himself hoping in Peter, but he assuaged this hope, fearing that Peter was charming him to hope and become disappointed like he did with Helper 2.

The three goblins, Baltore, Malta, and Rol, waited for Peter, trusting him. They loitered, bantered, and enjoyed each other’s presence.

Peter looked around him, and behind him, a large force of soldiers in different sections and roles stared at him.

“Help us,” they said.

Peter frowned, but he half-expected people to double-down on caring about him now that he had won first place at the tournament.

He grabbed his bangs. “I’m so stupid, aren’t I?” He was referring to his hope that people would leave him alone.

His face grew composed as he recognized that he was lucky that the dholes, their mice, and the goblin noble Ben decided against bothering him too much.

Assessing his cache of ideas, the incident of his rectal muscle spasm reminded him of his sunburn and realized that his sunburns had healed. “When did these heal? I don’t remember.” Before drifting away into thought, he said to the soldiers, “Yes.”

The soldiers planned to use and turn him into a weapon of mass destruction deterrent to advocate peace.

When they explain the plan to him transparently, Peter felt compelled to agree after a short moment of hesitation. “Oh, gosh, sure.”

He questioned himself, but part of him desired the glory of being a good person. He only had to obey his role as a citizen. He only had to do the right thing and follow the rules. He only had to say yes and no at the right time. If he lived separate from these obligations, he believed he would become a volatile mess once again. He desired freedom from this volatility.

He drifted from the world of personal, interpersonal confusion, frustration, and mental breakdowns into the world of large-scale war, revenge, callousness, grief, and depression. He wanted to define better his internal psychological lines to reduce and compartmentalize cognitive dissonance effects.

Peter was processing the euphoria from winning the tournament. He felt this tournament euphoria was the first sign of goodness compared to the episodes of euphoria he had felt previously. This new euphoria contributed to his decision to agree with the soldiers. He desired more of this version of euphoria.

He imagined fighting colonies of monsters and fixing lesser countries in order to create a sense of moral order in the world.

Chapter 19
Peter felt grandiosity from something other than himself for the first time in this world, moral order.

He imagined creating lines, shapes, and colors in real world roads with people, administrative divisions, and economies. This network of connections made Peter think that he felt like an overseer.

The soldiers whom Peter had endorsed made him relax for a few days before they gave him serious roles to build rapport and trust. They had called him up early in order to assess Peter's dedication.

To reflect on familiar surroundings and gain insight into his emotions, Peter visited the kobolds where Callous had died.

Hours later, Peter grabbed a rock.

The kobolds saw him approach, but instead of raising the rock to throw, Peter dropped the rock and crouched on the ground to convey that he wanted to talk.

The kobolds nodded quickly, waving at him to talk while they summoned an interpreter.

Peter was surprised, his heart pounding.

The kobolds’ interpreter was a sickly kobold.

Peter wiped sweat from around his mouth before saying, “Do you speak my language?”

The interpreter nodded, making magical particles of purple and yellow to do symbolic language as well.

“That’s great,” he joked. “I mean it’s either speak English or I die.” He knew he was speaking a language called "Ekal” in this world instead of English.

The interpreter was confused, but she suppressed her reaction.

Peter pretended to think to convince the other kobolds that he was serious about establishing a collaboration. “I want to exchange information.”

“Dhole informants are on our payroll. It’s useless.”

Peter lampooned, thinking that he should have asked the dholes for information instead of the kobolds.

He thought that he could use a diverse squad of soldiers for aesthetic completist value that included the kobolds.

In the end, he said: “I’m very strong, and I can lead a unit of kobolds if need be. I know how to fight.”

The interpreter looked at the kobolds and head-pointed toward Peter’s left.

From his left, the kobolds displayed to Peter their peace offering, a dhole-made wagon of dhole-quality supplies. “When we said we had dhole informants on our payroll, we meant it.”

Peter nodded excitedly. “So that’s how it works.” He gave an ambitious toothy grin.

Hours ago, Peter asked the soldiers whom he had endorsed after pressing them, “What’s my first goal?”

“Control the kobolds of course. They’re messing around. Force them to make you leader. Make sure you don’t go wild though. This is just a small group of kobolds.” When he said “small group,” he meant this group of kobolds was small in the thousands relative to their high birth rates.

Peter nodded.

Hours later, Peter blasted the sky above the kobolds, his magic overshadowing them.

Before the kobolds formalized their deference, Peter's expression glowed, and his posture seemed grandiose, as the remnants of his magic fell and struck the ground in a display of power.

“Mother, I am home,” he embraced and said to the kobolds one by one as a gesture of friendship. He was daring, taking a life-threatening risk through this one-by-one embracing. This daringness was a result of nine successes among others. One, he had established acknowledgement and connection with the soldiers. Two, he had won first place at the tournament. Three, he had accomplished the meeting with his large group of “new friends.” Four, he had goblins Blatore, Malta, Rol to protect. Five, he felt a sense of victory over his emotional impulses. Six, he felt loved. Seven, he felt guilt over killing the Alask dholes, the sixteen hunters, and the monsters in the caves, among others. Eighth, he felt regret over leaving Earth. Ninth, he wanted to honor the deceased Callous, Helper 1, and Helper 4.

The kobolds, too afraid to hurt Peter, awkwardly stood still when Peter embraced them.

Stepping away from them to give them space, Peter chuckled. “You can call me ‘the Rock.’” He gestured with his arms and bowed as a humorous display of leadership.

When he turned around, he reminded and promised himself that he despised the volatility of others.

His self-reliance evolved as he learned that people could be confusing and frustrating, which was one of the reasons why he was daring.

He returned to the goblin town to get Blatore, Malta, and Roll and visited the Alask dholes.

In a moonlit forest, deep within a secluded Alask tribe, an eerie silence hung in the air. The gnarled trees cast long, menacing shadows as the dholes huddle around their campfires, their eyes filled with suspicion and fear.

A chilling wind swept through the village, extinguishing the fires. The dholes froze, their pointed ears perked, sensing an otherworldly presence. Whispers of terror spread as they glimpsed a figure emerging from the darkness.

It was a human, but a strange one at that. Their eyes glowed an unnatural shade of crimson, illuminating their pale, gaunt face. A twisted smile stretched across their lips, revealing jagged teeth. The dholes shrinked back, their trembling hands clutching their primitive weapons.

The human's movements were jerky and unnatural as they slowly approached, causing the dholes to scatter in all directions, desperate to escape this unholy intruder.

The intruder was Peter who felt exhausted after trekking for hours and hours. Behind him, Blatore, Malta, and Rol were sitting down, half-asleep.

Peter ate the food that Rol had magically created. “This is marvelous. We should give these food to everyone in the world right?” He was stating a commonly known idea. “Right?”

However, in this world, even the magical creation of food was controlled and taxed in some places. Fortunately, in most places, the magical creation of food was a public good.

Blatore, Malta, and Rol felt too sleepy to answer.

Peter was patient, watching them fall asleep, his eyes filled with compassion and passion.

Peter looked at the land and thought he could feel the suffering of the peoples. His heart ached.

He felt it was impossible to be morally perfect, which was why he opted to live a simple life.

Peter put his heart into creating a shovel by combining two pieces of logs together that he had blasted with magic. He felt that this creation was a child borne out of pain and suffering for the sake of hope and prayer.

He grabbed another stack of logs that he had collected over a set of hours, putting down time in order to celebrate the accomplishment of peace in this chaotic world alongside the goblins. He found himself feeling grateful for the day.

He watched the sky extend to morning; his eyes looked tired.

He blinked several times to soothe his eyes, glancing at them every so often. He was observant toward the goblins.

With his magic, he imagined creating a log, but he found that his powers were limited to manifestations of light.

He sighed in relief, feeling that a wall in progress meant a safe zone where he felt easygoing. He opened up his imagination where he shielded himself and hid and tucked at the corners of the walls he built there.

In reality, the goblins stared at him, offering him fruits.

He accepted them and gently yawned, scanning the field for a place to lie down. When he found one, he dashed over and slid to a stop, crossing his legs and letting his form flatten against the ground. He was like a piece of stone that knew only to move when the earth did.

When he collected the logs in the night, he attached the logs together with a rope and lit a fire on them. This rope was out of frustration at the logs struggling to stay together in a uniformly beautiful way.

In the morning, he looked at the fire burning softly like whispers from the wind tickling under his ears.

He watched the moment and entered a sombre mood as he listened to the goblins singing. Their singing carried a reflective tone that reminded him of his heartaches and memories of Earth. Many words described him throughout his life. He felt nostalgia toward those descriptions and the backstories that paved the way for them.

His left eye became wet with remorse.

The musing of the ticking of the soldiers’ schedule for him briefly tempered his emotions; however, his emotions were like tidal waves that swallowed hosts of streets.

Peter stared bleakly at the sky.

He shifted his body and through many expressions but with an underlying mood of bleakness.

“I see no other walls for me. This is my home, but soon it will drift like many other homes and lives I’ve felt. Wherewithal shall I go?” He basked in the poetic expression of ideals and inclinations, letting them fade like dust. His mindfulness allowed him to eat up his memories into a filtered lump.

“No more me. No more.”

He stood up. “I am now the person who will guide you three.” He designated himself as the person he was now, dismissing the emotional tethers to the past.

“Let us find a way to live here.” He said with a faint expression of willfulness.

Rol said, “Sure, but can you detail to me what’s going to happen next?” He expected Peter to be serious about listening, but he had qualms about his dedication to simple living considering his grandiose willfulness from Rol’s experiences with him.

Peter nodded. “Sure, sure, I’ll first mention the shovel that I made. Don’t you think... that it looks good?” Peter had slowed down his talking because of Rol’s display of relief.

Rol nodded. “Yes, it does.”

Rol and Peter’s mutual exchange through their nods and uses of the word “sure” showed their willingness to find interpersonal balance.

Peter grabbed a log. “You want to learn how to make a shovel? It’s easy. I’ll show you.” He dropped to his knees and placed the log on a boulder.

Rol squatted beside Peter, attentive.

Peter used his magic to burn the logs and create pieces that he then attached together with rope. These attached pieces formed a flimsy shovel.

He struck the ground with the shovel to show Rol, but it fell apart.

Peter was optimistic, as he had expected the shovel to be weak. “You can try that too or even better maybe.”

Rol nodded. He slowed down this nod as he realized: “I don’t have the kind of magic you do. I have steal. 1 out of 5 chance of stealing what I want.”

Peter raised his brows. “That sounds overpowered.” He glanced around, afraid that he might anger the world by asking secret questions. “How do people get magic anyway?”

“You’re born with it.”

Peter nodded, his head drifting away. “I knew that, but it’s still weird. Don’t you think?” He heard about the origin of magic before from his the meeting with his acquaintances, but he asked again now out of curiosity.

Rol looked nervous. “H-how are you going to use your powers?”

Peter cocked his head at Rol. “I... don’t know,” he exclaimed at first but lost his energy. “I’m pretty sure the rules in this world make sense. Hopefully.”

The goblin Rol hid his habit of tonguining his teeth when he was anxious. “Goblins kill other goblins with ears they don’t like.”

“Who? T-that sounds interesting... I mean weird. I mean horrible.” The use of the word “goblin” in another context, through Rol’s statement “with ears they don’t like,” revealed Peter’s disconnection to this new world in new ways. Despite his acculturation to the word “goblin” through acquainting with goblins in real life in this different world, he had initially responded to Rol’s revelation of racial complexity the same way he responded to ones from video games and books.

Peter gave a proper somber response “Hmm.”

Rol smiled politely. “Do you want to hear about how the goblins existed from the death of two turtle gods?”

Peter’s eyes lit up, but he tilted his head sideways as he recognized, “You don’t sound reverential.”

“My father said that they were false gods, and the true gods were the trio gods Agency, Disappointment, and Turnover.”

Peter raised his brow, his eyes darting in thought. “Wait, I almost forget about your powers. You can steal people’s stuff 1 out of 5?”

Rol said “Yes.”

“Glorious. Absolutely impeccable ability. Now, why don’t people snatch you and take you to who knows where? The soldiers would gladly have your ability.”

“They don’t know. It’s not something you can find out, and even then, most people like to lie they have abilities they don’t have.”

“But you’re a child. Children... are impressionable.”

“I’m 14.”

“Still young. When I was 14, I was so smart. Wait, that’s besides the point.”

Rol burst into giggles.

Peter looked surprised for a moment, but a smile grew to form on his mouth.

Rol looked toward Malta and Blatore to include them in his happiness. However, Malta was lazily lying down in mid-air, levitating. Blatore was rolling around in the meadows and grass fields, exploring the feeling of pressing his face against the ground.

Peter smiled, the tips of his hair fluttering in the wind. “Gracious.” He felt that his polite wording fit his identity more as the guide for the three young goblins.

Three trees in the distance acted as totems that a troll hiding behind the trees used to summon a wind of godly fervor. The wind cast itself upon the face of Peter, making him fly off the ground and somersault in mid-air.

Peter slammed against the earth, feeling faint.

The troll waited, peeking every so often to scan his victims.

The wind had hit Rol into a tree, Malta over and behind a rock, and Blatore rolling uphill.

The troll guffawed, his booming laughs sounding like humongous trumpets in the distance.

Peter felt his heart beat fast, but his body was weak. He raised his hand to heal himself, but when he opened his eyes, he learned that Rol was healing him with a bleeding head.

After thirty seconds, Peter smiled, slowly standing up. He healed Rol and himself in a second.

The troll stood in front of Blatore. He slammed Blatore, crushing him.

Peter screamed. “No!”

When the troll raised its fist, Blatore was on the ground, bleeding profusely, his body full of bruises. He was walking briskly toward Peter, whimpering choppily. He looked like a zombie.

Peter reached out to him as the troll quickly slammed toward Blatore.

Peter turned to his white godly form and sped through the air. His limbs were still in relation to his body, but his body zoomed.

The troll missed Blatore as Peter grabbed Blatore past closer to the troll. Peter raised his hand and magically blasted the troll’s face, making the troll cover his face.

The troll snickered as it fell to the ground in death.

Peter gasped and healed Blatore who smiled in relief.

The troll stood up and slammed Peter.

Peter shouted, his leg turning to mush, “Hey, hey... hey!” He screamed in pain. He was sure that trolls stayed dead. He blasted the troll again with his left arm while healing himself with his other one.

Peter stood up and crawled.

The troll chased him with a gait that preferred one side.

Peter snarled in fear, imagining himself turning the troll into a dog.

The troll burst into fleshy bits that resembled dogs. It died, but its beating heart levitated in the air amid the flesh flying about.

Peter blasted the heart.

The heart was durable, and it slowly gathered bits of the dog-shaped flesh together, reverting them to their original forms and shapes.

Peter shouted as he blasted.

The heartbeat grew louder as Peter’s blast damaged it more and more.

Peter watched the heart regain its troll form.

The troll smiled as it chased Peter.

The human Peter ran alongside the goblins Blatore, Malta, and Rol. They hid in a cave.

The troll squeezed itself inside, its face glowing in the darkness, pressing itself farther and farther.

Peter cried and blasted the walls, creating a path outside.

Peter and company escaped, and they watched the body of the troll wriggle erratically but slow down to a robotic halt.

The troll wriggled again and continued intermittently.

Peter and company left, feeling fright in their hearts.

“I’ve... never seen anything like that.” Peter stuttered, his mouth moving before he spoke. “I wish I never saw that.” He remembered the soldiers’ call for him to become a weapon of mass destruction and imagined himself becoming a horrific monster like the troll.

The goblins looked traumatized which troubled Peter. He expressed his anger in the concise statement “Hmm.”

He told the goblins to wait.

He ran back.

He blasted the troll where it was stuck in the cave.

“Please just die already,” he whispered.

The troll exploded into toad-shaped pieces when Peter imagined it turning into tiny toads.

Peter imagined the pieces on the ground turning into tiny toads; however, his magic failed.

He blasted the heart, his breath measured, his heart beating only with excitement.

The heart cracked.

Peter’s eyes twitched in brief joy.

The heart cracked again.

Peter’s raised his brows, his eyes widening.

The heart fractured, a burst of blood flying out of the fracture.

Peter yelled as the heart stopped levitating and fell to the ground. He continued to blast the heart.

He succumbed to exhaustion.

The heart was dead.

Chapter 20
Rol and company waited for him, far from sight.

When Peter woke up 8 hours later, he went to them.

Rol and company loyally waited for him. They had full stomachs from magically creating their food and buying water from the town with their money.

Peter smiled. “You guys seriously don’t need to worry about getting thirsty. I only have one peso left from Helper 2.”

He was mistaken that the peso came from Helper 2: it came from Helper 3. This mistake showed his memory's wear.

"Yes," Rol said with a heavy tone.

Peter's smile crumbled. "I'm sorry that things became this way." His empathetic behavior matched his deceased friend Callous, but his memory of him had grown frail like a broken plant stem.

Rol looked around, thinking if he should express his heavy ideas about goblins and humans.

Peter turned away to give Rol space.

Rol turned away to dispell his tension.

When they left to the nearest town, Peter dropped his last peso from Helper 3 by accident. When he realized that he had dropped it minutes later, he remembered that it came from Helper 3 instead of Helper 2.

He felt a strong impulse to look for it.

"W-where is it!" Peter said, his eyes zooming left, right, up, and down.

He dashed from corner to corner and end to end, tilting and adjusting his head to get better views.

He saw it at the end of a path.

He reached out toward it.

An old wagon full of fruits moved along and blocked his way.

He hyperventilated.

The coin was the gateway to a significant facet of his memories.

After the wagon passed, Peter ran and leapt at the peso, embracing it like it was his child. Tears dripped down his cheeks. He had lost his memories of Callous, Helper 1, and Helper 4 and Helper 3, Helper 2, and Richardess. His memory loss had helped him move on from his turmoil.

Peter covered his face, one eye peeking out. "Who am I... I'm nobody." He froze. He harbored a profound sense of having incurred significant losses.

Some contemplative moments later, he burst into tears and whimpers, gasping intermittently.

He wanted to turn this world into fire to stop everything the day he laughed with his friends on Earth. Callous and the others were surplus to his rich and fulfilling life, yet they struck him as magnificent palaces of value.

"Is that so?" he said in a bitter mocking dismissive tone.

He burst into laughter, but he stopped himself halfway. "I have to protect the ones with me. They must live happy lives." His face looked sharp.

He went to the three goblins and thought of making a joke to lighten the mood.

Rol looked tense.

Peter had a serious, concerned face. "Are you okay?"

Rol said, "I don't know if I can go outside and do my dance." His eyes became wet, tears streaming down. "I'm sorry Malt, Blat."

Peter rubbed his eyes and smiled. "Rol, you know what, if you want, I'll go with you guys to the dance. You want that? Or are you fine with going inside. Do you need dancing so badly that you can't live without it?"

Rol nodded.

Peter intensified his smile, making Rol curious. "Okay," Peter said. "I'll try dancing myself." He did his best to dance. When he realized his dancing was clumsy, he played it off as a joke.

Rol smiled weakly.

Peter nodded, focusing on Malta and Blatore and giving Rol space. "Malta, Blatore, what do you want to do?"

Malta began to release his tension by crying. Blatore followed suit.

Peter covered his mouth with a face of compassion, his eyes becoming wet. "Okay then, let's go somewhere where we don't bother others and relax there, okay?" Concerned onlookers gathered nearby.

When they left to a more secluded place, Peter said, "Why don't we stay here?"

The three goblins felt safe, quiet.

Peter recalled scenes from Earth and superimposed them onto the scenery around him. He connected the many vague details and found the bits and pieces of knowledge to form them into definite objects, which he then added to this superimposition. The memorial weight of these bits and pieces made his tone heavy. "Why are we here, huh?" he said. Rol tilted his head up toward Peter.

Peter inwardly debated against joining the soldiers and in favor of becoming an adventurer. The troll made him afraid of monsters, and from his preconceptions, adventurers fought monsters while soldiers fought soldiers.

After cleaning himself alongside the three goblins, Peter visited the adventurer guild nearby with the three goblins. "I want to sign up," he said.

"Signing up costs 1 peso," said the guild receptionist. "You will start at Grade F. Grade E is when you get a free potion. Grade D gets two potions and so on."

"Where is the adventurer dungeon?" Peter said while requesting a peso from Rol.

Rol loaned him a peso.

"Keep walking in this direction." The receptionist pointed to her right.

Peter hesitated, first looking back and then reversing his direction. "I want to know where the humans are."

The receptionist looked surprised. "I don't know."

Peter widened his eyes.

"The human community here is everywhere," the goblin receptionist explained. "They don't bother to alert people of where they are or where they're going. They're hard to track." She assumed that the human Peter had portals to travel around like the other humans. “If you’re still not sure, there’s a human right above the bell tower. Her name’s Sandy Bacon, a red head with many things to say about her dress. If you go to her, she can suggest some places to eat and drink.” She was being very accomodating. “If you like her enough, she’ll let you ‘feed’ on her. Don’t get too cocky she said. Anyway, what I was hoping to share to you was that your place is here is highly dependant on whether you offend her or not. But I believe you know the answers more than me. I’m merely describing the general situation here in this part of town.”

Feeling that the receptionist was useful, he asked her if he could talk to her more. She objected. He then strategically asked her then if he could talk to her more after her shift. She approved.

Peter nodded and left outside with the three goblins, feeling that he was taking too much of the receptionist's time.

A human overhead flew by riding a magic broom at 145 km/h.

Peter remembered the convoy of monoplanes that flew overhead in another town, which was the first one he had visited.

A traveling goblin blacksmith in the crowd glanced at Peter. He brought his portable forge and tools in a wagon.

Peter became significantly more observant as a result of his increased experience.

The blacksmith was holding against his chest a container that featured ornate decorations, intricate patterns, and symbolic motifs associated with magic and craftsmanship. He wore a brown necklace, which Peter recognized from one of the sixteen hunters he had killed.

The blacksmith went inside an inn. Peter and the three goblins followed.

The inn had several sides to it.  A bunch of adventurers with a purple motif gambled and drank. A bunch of frog-headed goblins in elegant wear used ostentatious magic to create a variety of scented drinks. A group of goblin children and a goblin with a chicken head mask sang, giving the room a pleasant vibe.

Peter breathed deeply, went outside, and asked Blatore, noticing his gloominess. "Who are the frog-headed goblins?"

Blatore looked confused. "'Frogs'? What are 'frogs'?"

Peter felt a tinge of frustration. "The weird heads. The goblins with the heads that have the big eyes and..." He felt his description was enough.

Blatore smiled, seeing an opportunity to contribute valuably to his relationship with Peter. "You don't know them! They're just goblins with poison!"

"Ah," Peter said in a subdued tone and nodded. He felt a subtle disappointment that things were better than he thought.

Peter walked up to the frogs, feeling determined. "Excuse me."

The customers in the inn turned their heads toward the only human inside.

The frogs faced him and relaxed. "What do you need?" said one of them, advancing ahead of the rest.

"Did you see the smith that passed through here?" Peter clasped his hands in front of himself.

The frogs glanced at Peter's hands, fearing Peter's magic.

The frog who had spoken said, "No, I saw a... everyone else but not the smith you're suggesting." He had a polite and honest tone, but Peter doubted him.

Peter turned around before saying, "Okay." His tone was soft and enthusiastic; however, inside, he felt that he should be careful of closed spaces like the inn for fighting.

He left and met the goblins outside.

"Rol, Blatore, Malta, what are you guys feeling?" He sounded hurried and wary, glancing around him.

Rol nodded. "I feel that the best thing to do is look for shelter."

Peter furrowed his brows, wrinkling his nose. "W-what are you saying?" He covered his face. "Sorry. I'm just feeling confused."

Rol smiled. "Richardess, Margareth, and the others. We should go to them."

Peter breathed deep. He felt Rol's statements were outside of his expectations. "Please, Rol, what do you mean?"

Rol frowned. "I want us to go to them because they said we'd be fine with them. Ben, too."

Peter touched his forehead, his expression tense, turning away, making Rol's frown deeper. "I don't know," he said. "Should we?" He had begun to mumble. "I don't know."

He sounded bewildered and accusive. "Seriously? You can't tell me..." He felt that Rol's statements were nonsensical and void of basis from Peter's knowledge of him. "It doesn't make sense. It's doesn't fucking make sense." Although Peter called Richardess, Margareth, and the others his friends, he felt a distance from them because they confused him and made him feel helpless. "Damn."

"This is absolutely gobsmacked," he said, softening his tone to alleviate the intensity of his emotions. By using a light-hearted and colloquial phrase, he attempted to lighten the mood and regain control over his emotions.

The goblins were quiet, observing him. Peter felt this observation reminded him of his past image of himself as a stoic spectator. He felt good eustress at the thought that he had matured past this past image.

Peter sighed in relief. "Should we go to the adventurer dungeon?"

Rol nodded. "Aren't we going to dance?"

His forehead sweating, Peter fixed his bangs to the side. "Right. I forgot. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Blatore said.

Peter nodded, subdued. "We can dance. Tell me where, and we can dash there as fast as we can."

Blatore smiled. "Here is fine."

Peter raised a brow. "Don't you need a permit or what?"

Blatore shook his head. "We don't need a permit."

"Hmm," Peter said and entered deep thought.

He played with his hair as Blatore, Rol, and Malta arranged themselves. Peter waited patiently as Blatore, Rol, and Malta did a preliminary dance that incorporated stretching.
Peter raised his arm overhead and found himself stretching both arms. He cracked his back and opened his mouth in pleasure.

Peter, after dancing and humiliating himself in public, told the goblins he needed to go for a while.

When he was alone, he split himself into two to understand himself.

"Peter," he said.

"What?

"What should I do?

"Just keep going.

"I don't know what that means anymore. Please tell me.

"You have to do what you need to do. Get better, improve yourself, and get out there and who cares about anything.

"It hurts. It's humiliating." He laughed exasperatedly.

"Seriously? You think that's hard. Don't you remember that people out there are suffering? What do you want to do huh? Lie down and do anything? Huh!

"I-I don't know. I just want to do the right thing, but it hurts. Is this right? Is this how it's supposed to be?

"Yes. It's supposed to be painful. It's supposed to not make sense. It's supposed to feel like shit. It's suppposed—you just have to keep going alright?

"Am I good enough?

"No, you're not. That's the point, but you're good enough because you're here. Either way, move along. Please! Just go!"

He nodded.

"When I need someone to listen, please tell me I'm not going through this alone."

He was silent, neglecting to answer himself.

He left and returned to the goblins, his heart aching constantly. He felt that his amount of self-reflection was deficient to address all his concerns and set up a well-rounded path for him forward.

The goblins gave him pouty looks. They thought that him saying he was going to leave and leaving immediately afterwards was a gesture of contempt.

"What's wrong everyone? I know I've been very unpredictable lately. I want to apologize for my misdeeds. If I can make it up to you guys, tell me. I'll even dance again even if I'm not very used to it. I want to see things through here. I hope you can help me." He made it seem like he needed the goblins' help, yet he felt that he could leave them at any time.

With the goblins, he went to the receptionist and talked to her at a restaurant. He paid for the food with his peso, sacrificing a symbol of his past self. He engaged in small talk to butter her up in case she had a heavy topic to divulge. "How are you?" He glanced at her hair clip.

"Oh, I'm doing well. Thank you for asking."

"Oh, is that nice?" Peter gestured to the food on the other table. "Ah, really, I can't wait."

"Yes, it is quite exciting. They really do make the scent."

"I imagine that's how it work around here."

"Have you seen Carter at the final stop of his journey?" The receptionist was referring to a popular play.

Peter pushed a response even if he was ignorant of Carter and the play. "Yet, he was that slow to do it."

"Yes, I can see why one would see it that way." The receptionist nodded enthusiastically as the food arrived.

Peter used Carter as a segue to Sandy Bacon, about whom he wanted to inquire. "Sandy Bacon. She reminds me of Carter." He gave the receptionist a knowing glance, thinking that she was now sure about his intentions in inviting her to dinner.

The receptionist smiled. "Sandy Bacon. 18 years old. Has a direct influence on the economy through her drug trafficking and various means of supplying herself and her goons with money. She knows death. Has seen it. Developed it to perfection. She knows what she does right and what she does wrong. You can take her on if you want. I'm guessing that's what you're here for."

Peter looked around, and all the customers at the restaurant stood up, glaring at Peter and holding hidable weapons.

The receptionist dashed away out of Peter's sight, panting, forcing herself to smirk.

Peter was shocked, staring at the three goblins in the grasps of several goblins.

Far away, in a tower, Sandy Bacon, a young woman with a small round face, wearing dark, rugged clothes with claws instead of fingernails. She had a plump figure and an earing on only one ear. An old stool was lying on the floor behind her, one of its legs half-torn.

From outside her room, a hooded man with a holster on his waist entered and communicated Peter's inquiry about her.

Sandy Bacon nodded.

At the restaurant, Peter blasted the goblins, turning it into a blinding scene. The goblins fell to the ground and screamed seeing their bones from Peter's magic light.

He leapt and struck one goblin, using his light to blast a hole through them. He spun halfway and dodged the pounce of several goblins, pressing his palms against the ground to maintain balance.

The goblins shouted, aiming their weapons at him despite their closed eyes.

Peter blasted them, pushing them backward until they succumbed to exhaustion.

The goblins chased Peter outside, but Peter and the three goblins went out of sight.

Far away, outside, the receptionist watched in shock as Peter blasted her to the ground.

Peter stared at her before he seized her hair clip and left. This seizing reflected his desire to understand and honor others profoundly.

While he hurled himself forth, he succumbed to exhaustion in front of the receptionist. Their bodies lay diagonally across from each other.

The goblins from the restaurant were close to turning the corner and finding them.

The three goblins, Rol, Malta, and Blatore, struggled to wake Peter up, but his face was still. They pushed the receptionist away; however this pushing yielded only a few feet of distance.

They dragged Peter's body, their eyes wide and their breathing frantic.

Peter's head pressed against the ground past a corner and into the darkness.

The cacophonous entry of hundreds of people who heard the screams barged into the field of rocky streets, glaring at the corners and shadows, looking for the source of conflict. They were adventurers, day workers, cottagers, nobles and their knights and mages, craftsmen, customers, and sellers, all of whom wore clothes of simple muted colors. They created order by stimulating the market and the people, using healing magic and food creation magic as two significant elements of the magical infrastructure needed to sustain this periodic roar of societal togetherness.

When the multitude found Peter using magic, they delegated the legal proceedings to the town court that demanded the appearances of that of Peter, Sandy Bacon, and all of her goons there. The adventurers whose services took up a large part of the town budget performed the roles of controlling these 72 goons.

Soon, Peter was imprisoned. He opened himself to the gentle indifference of the world.

He watched the night sky and imagined the cattle roaming along near their farmer lords and the kingdom forging iron and sword against their enemies with hatred simmering. He envisaged the anger of the world turning against itself as the heat of light burned the skin of shoulders. He wished that he could explain his great depression with the pieces that made up the world.

He forgave himself and said that it was time to leave to the stars. He grabbed his hand and attempted to choke himself.

He failed.

Later, Peter became free and experienced the sunlight.

He looked for Rol, Malta, and Blatore who waited for him.

He found them hiding in a A-frame kind of shelter. His deceased friend Callous had made this kind of shelter once.

Peter let out a muffled laugh, covering his mouth. "Callous."

Several hours ago, in a remote place, the friends and family of the talented mage, whom Peter had killed, discussed concerning him. Twenty-two Alaska dholes, belonging to the tribe Peter had offended by killing eleven from the Alask dhole tribe, had a part in this discussion.

Chapter 21
“Alright, listen up, everyone. Our target possesses immense powers. We need a detailed strategy to take him down. Ideas?”

“We should focus on exploiting his capacity for light magic. Perhaps, a device emitting intense darkness can weaken his powers?”

“Agreed. We'll need a team to work on obtaining such a device. It should be one portable and powerful enough to nullify his abilities temporarily.”

“And what about his mobility? We need to restrict his movements. His levitation poses a delicate issue that will need to be handled immediately.”

“What if we consider the deployment of magical disruptors amid the light blasting in his immediate area? It might interfere with his levitation abilities. We’ll need to consider a team to take on such a heavy task, as their lives will highly likely be lost in the mission.”

“Good idea. We can utilize magical prediction to hopefully track his movements and predict his next actions as long as his emotional volatility remains within the parameters we’ve already set according to the behavior observed by our mice.”

“Once we neutralize his powers, we need to overpower him physically. I suggest hand-picked individuals, trained in butcher combat, to engage him.”

“But what about his burning ability? We need protection against that.”

“Of course, fire-resistant armor and shields will provide temporary defense. We can also equip our team with anti-light goggles to counter his blinding attacks.”

“Let's not forget his godlike form. We'll need to disrupt his concentration and transformation through a specialized form of attack.”

“How about a simple distraction? A group of our operatives could create chaos nearby, diverting his attention and allowing us to strike. We can use a combination of magic known for their loudness and incorporate them into a magical incubator, thus providing us with a flashing of sound. This sound will distract us as well, so make sure to be prepared. We don’t want any casualties as a result of our own actions.”

“Good thinking. We also need a plan to debilitate his powers permanently... after the fight.”

“We could find artifacts or ancient texts that could weaken or nullify his magical abilities. We already have several in mind: the Green Armor, the Death Scroll, and the Frenetic Greaves”

“I know a historian who specializes in rare artifacts. We can consult him to identify anything relevant. Actually, he’s right here now.”

“In the meantime, we should gather intelligence on his past encounters. Analyzing his patterns and weaknesses will be crucial. Don’t forget the way he talks because it will be crucial in determining how he activates his abilities.”

“Maybe we can find someone who knows him well. Again, an ally-turned-enemy who can provide us with insider information.”

“Agreed. We should invest in covert surveillance to identify any potential allies of his.”

“Alright, here's the delicate plan. We'll form specialized teams for each task, from creating the darkness device to physical combat. Stay in constant communication and keep me updated.”

“We shouldn't underestimate the psychological aspect of this confrontation. Peter has become accustomed to his godlike abilities. We need to shatter his confidence.”

“True. We should gather testimonies from people who have witnessed the devastation caused by Peter. Their accounts will help us expose the consequences of his actions, eroding any support he may have.”

“Additionally, I remember we could employ skilled illusionists or magicians to create misleading scenarios during the confrontation. Confusion and doubt will weaken his concentration.”

“While we focus on countering his abilities, we must also ensure the safety of innocent bystanders. Establishing evacuation plans and securing the perimeter are critical.”

“I propose setting up concealed barriers around the area to prevent unintended casualties. We can use energy fields or force fields to contain the battle zone. We’ll be accomodating the guide and supervision of the local police force.”

“In case our initial plan fails, we need a backup strategy. Let's consider the possibility of a temporary alliance with other individuals or organizations who have a vested interest in stopping Peter.”

“Yes, first one in mind is the goblin noble Ben.”

“That's risky, but if we find like-minded allies, it could tip the scales in our favor. We must be cautious about who we trust and ensure our objectives align.”

“What if Peter manages to regain his powers during the battle? We need to have contingencies in place.”

“I suggest creating a failsafe device that can suppress his abilities indefinitely. We could use a combination of mystical artifacts and advanced technology to achieve this. It might cause our whole operation’s end, effectively killing us all.”

“Agreed. We'll need experts in both magic and engineering to work together to ensure the safety of this device. It must be foolproof and resistant to any attempt by Peter to override it.”

“I repeat, we should explore the possibility of exploiting his emotions. Every powerful being has vulnerabilities, and emotions are a potent weapon.”

“Someone close to Peter who can use their influence over him.”

“Remember, our ultimate goal is to neutralize Peter's threat while minimizing casualties. Let's prioritize teamwork, coordination, and adaptability.”

“We should consider incorporating magic inhibitors into our arsenal. Devices that emit anti-magic walls can significantly weaken Peter's powers.”

“Agreed. We'll need expert geomancers to create these inhibitors. They should be capable of nullifying or suppressing the magical energies that Peter wields.”

“What about utilizing ancient rituals or spells like the ones employed by clay-workers? We could uncover ancient texts or seek the guidance of mystics who possess knowledge about countering godlike powers.”

“We mustn't forget the element of surprise. Peter is powerful, but even he can be caught off guard. Coordinated ambushes or diversionary tactics might give us the upper hand.”

“Let's study his previous battles in detail. Analyzing his strategies and tactics will allow us to anticipate his moves and find weaknesses we can exploit.”

“If Peter has any weaknesses related to his white godlike form, we should aim to disrupt his connection to it. Perhaps ancient artifacts or enchanted weapons can serve this purpose.”

“What about his vulnerability to physical attacks? Can we find any evidence that his godlike form has limitations in terms of endurance or susceptibility to conventional weapons like guns?”

“While our primary objective is to defeat Peter, we must also consider the aftermath. We need a plan to contain and restrain him once his powers are neutralized.”

“We could design specially crafted restraints that can withstand incredible forces. Non-magical materials infused with energy dampeners could ensure he remains incapacitated.”

“To prevent Peter from escaping, we should have a team prepared to quickly seal off the area once our plan is set in motion. We can use advanced technology to create energy barriers or deploy physical reinforcements.”

“Communication and coordination are crucial. We need a secure channel to relay real-time information during the operation. A central command post with experienced tacticians should oversee the mission.”

“Excellent suggestions, everyone. Let's consolidate our ideas and create a comprehensive battle plan. Our determination and meticulousness will be the key to success.”

Hours later, Peter looked at a white flower, which symbolized Sigurd.

Meanwhile, in another place, Sigurd rode a transportation vehicle toward Peter. "Peter," he said. "I'll make sure you're alright. I promise you.

"I've developed a small prison spell just for you. I'll take over everything, remove all the pain, and we can find ourselves moving past this. This prison will be for all those who seek to hurt you. I'm not going to stop forgetting the pain you experienced when you had to kill Callous, Helper 1, Helper 4, and me. I have forgiven you and will carry you on. Don't worry Peter. I will watch over you. Richardess, Margareth, and Helper 3 are already watching over you, but I'll join this very soon."

At the A-framed shelter Blatore, Malta, and Rol had build, Peter looked at the sky.

A multitude of dholes and goblins arrived.

They were mages and melee and ranged fighters.

They charged and unleashed a barrage of spells, their intent clear: to overpower and subdue the human Peter. Incantations echoed through the air as they focused their collective magical prowess upon him.

The first mage called forth a blazing Fireball, hurtling towards Peter with destructive force.

Lightning crackled through the air as a Lightning Bolt streaked toward Peter, threatening to engulf him in its electrifying fury.

A healer cast a Healing Touch upon Peter, mending his wounds and rejuvenating his spirit but inflicting control over his body. A mischievous mage invoked Teleportation with this control to disorient Peter with a sudden shift in space.

To confound Peter further, an unseen sorcerer weaved a spell of Invisibility to shroud the mages from Peter's sight.

Witnessing the warrior's resilience, a sorceress attempted to strip Peter of his earthly bounds, invoking Levitation to disrupt his stability.

The intensity escalated as another opponent summoned an elemental creature, releasing a tempestuous being into the fray. The elemental lunged at Peter with malicious intent.

Time seemed to stand still as a sorcerer enacted Time Freeze, attempting to imprison Peter within a temporal stasis.

Then, a wicked sorcerer sought dominion over Peter's mind, casting a spell of Mind Control, endeavoring to bend his will to their own.

Undeterred, a mage unleashed an Energy Blast, a concentrated surge of raw power aimed directly at Peter.

As the onslaught continued, a sorceress erected a Shielding Ward, creating a protective barrier around herself and her allies.

A sorcerer, skilled in the arts of illusion, conjured an Illusionary Mirage, creating a baffling display of false images in an attempt to confuse Peter's senses.

Sensing defeat approaching, an adversary resorted to desperate measures, casting Banishment, seeking to banish Peter to an unknown realm.

As the battle raged on, a sorcerer unleashed a spell of Transformation to manipulate Peter's physical form.

The realm of dreams beckoned as a sorceress invoked Astral Projection to sever Peter's consciousness from his corporeal form.

The elements themselves responded to the whims of a sorcerer, as Elemental Manipulation twisted the forces of nature against Peter.

A sinister sorcerer cast Soul Drain to siphon Peter's life essence.

In a last-ditch effort, a mage conjured a formidable Force Field, encasing Peter in an impenetrable shield.

Undeterred by the mounting odds, a sorcerer sought aid from the spirit realm, summoning a Familiar to harass and distract Peter.

With fury in their eyes, sorcerers channeled Elemental Fury, unleashing a cataclysmic storm of elemental forces upon Peter.

The arcane arts reached their pinnacle as a mage unleashed an Arcane Blast, an unyielding torrent of mystical energy.

Ice formed at a mage's fingertips as an icy spike hurtled towards Peter, threatening to impale him.

In a desperate plea for assistance, an adversary beseeched Divine Intervention, invoking the divine forces to vanquish Peter.

A shroud of darkness enveloped a sorceress as she invoked Shadow Veil to obscure Peter's vision and hamper his movements.

The battlefield trembled as a sorcerer enacted Petrification to turn Peter to stone and render him immobile.

Amidst the chaos, nature itself responded to a sorcerer's call, embracing Peter in Nature's Embrace to ensnare him within its verdant grasp.

The very fabric of existence seemed to unravel as a sorcerer invoked Disintegration to erase Peter from existence.

An enchanting sorceress cast Charm Person to sway Peter to her side with her beguiling magic.

A restorative aura enveloped an adversary as they cast Restoration, aiming to heal their wounded allies.

In a moment of desperation, a sorcerer attempted Resurrection to revive fallen comrades and tip the scales in their favor.

The veil of secrecy unraveled as an adversary delved into Peter's thoughts with Mind Reading to glean his secrets and weaknesses.

Sensing the onslaught of magical forces, a sorcerer erected an Astral Barrier to block Peter's path and impede his progress.

Elements clashed in a cataclysmic Elemental Storm, as foes attempted to overwhelm Peter with the sheer power of their combined elemental forces.

An insidious sorcerer sought to forge a Soul Link to establish a connection with Peter's essence in order to manipulate and control him.

Time itself became malleable as a sorcerer delved into Time Manipulation to alter the course of events in their favor.

The elements surged in a symphony of power as an adversary invoked Elemental Fusion, merging their forces into an unstoppable tide.

In an attempt to glimpse the threads of destiny, a sorcerer cast Divination to unravel Peter's future and exploit his weaknesses.

Curses echoed through the air as an adversary invoked Curse of Binding to ensnare Peter in a web of malevolent enchantments.

With a burst of supernatural energy, a sorcerer invoked Haste, accelerating the movements of their allies in a bid to overwhelm Peter.

Elements coalesced around a sorcerer as they erected an Elemental Shield to deflect and nullify Peter's attacks.

The realm of dreams beckoned once more as a sorcerer invoked Astral Projection to sever Peter's consciousness from his physical form.

The arcane arts reached their apex as a mage summoned an Arcane Barrier, a shimmering wall of impenetrable energy.

A sorcerer channeled the essence of souls, casting Soulfire, an ethereal flame that threatened to consume Peter's very being.

Darkness embraced a sorcerer as they invoked Shadowmeld to merge with the shadows and strike from the unseen.

Elemental forces surged in an explosive Elemental Burst to engulf Peter in their destructive might.

The boundaries of the mind warped as a sorcerer cast Mind Warp to twist Peter's thoughts and sow confusion within his psyche.

Amidst the chaos, an ally sorceress invoked Astral Rejuvenation, a restorative spell that revitalized her allies' body and spirit. Energized and invigorated, the fighters pressed forward with renewed vigor, undeterred by the mounting odds.

A wave of banishment surged forth as a sorcerer cast Banishing Wave to strip Peter from the mortal realm and cast him into oblivion.

Elemental forces swirled in a dance of power as a sorcerer mastered Elemental Transmutation, manipulating the very essence of the elements.

With a touch of enchantment, an adversary sought to empower Peter's natural defences, casting Enchant Weapon to imbue his allies' weapons with mystical properties.

The sorcery of souls loomed as a sorcerer invoked Soul Shatter to rupture Peter's spirit and rend his essence asunder.

Arcane energy surged as a sorcerer cast Arcane Lock to seal away Peter's path and deny him passage.

Radiant energies embraced the fighters as a guardian sorcerer bestowed upon her Guardian's Embrace, a shield of divine protection that bolstered their defenses.

Reality itself trembled as a sorcerer enacted Reality Shift to reshape the fabric of existence to their advantage.

Elemental forces surged to their peak as a sorcerer unleashed Elemental Nova, a cataclysmic burst of elemental power that threatened to obliterate all in its path.

A sorcerer sought communion with the spirits, casting Spirit Summoning to beckon spectral allies to their aid.

The boundaries of reality wavered as a sorcerer invoked a Dimensional Portal to tear open a rift to unknown realms.

A master illusionist wove an Illusory Veil, creating a mirage of deception and confusion.

Energies swirled and twisted as a sorcerer manipulated Energy Manipulation to harness and control the raw forces of existence.

With a draining touch, an adversary sought to sap Peter's life essence, casting Essence Drain to weaken him.

An astral sorcerer invoked an Astral Beacon, creating a radiant beacon of spiritual energy that threatened to disorient Peter's senses.

Arcane energies surged through a sorcerer as they cast Arcane Infusion, imbuing their spells with heightened power.

Spectral resonance reverberated as a sorcerer attempted Soul Resonance to attune Peter's spirit to their command.

Darkness coalesced around a sorcerer as they invoked Shadowmeld to merge with the shadows and strike from the unseen.

Elemental forces surged once more as a sorcerer invoked Elemental Fusion, merging their forces into a titanic fusion.

The boundaries of the mind strained as a sorcerer sought to breach Peter's mental defenses, casting Mind Surge to overwhelm his thoughts.

A surge of rejuvenating energy flowed through the fighters as an sorcerer cast Astral Restoration, mending their wounds and revitalizing their spirits. Empowered by the restoration, these fighters stood unyielding, ready to face the onslaught with renewed vigor.

Once again, a wave of banishment surged forth as a sorcerer cast Banishing Wave to strip Peter from the mortal realm and cast him into oblivion.

Elemental forces reached their pinnacle as a sorcerer invoked Elemental Mastery, commanding the elements with unrivaled control.

An enchantress wove her magic, casting Enchant Object to imbue an object with mystical properties.

Spectral energies surged as a sorcerer sought to bind Peter's soul, casting Soul Bind to imprison his essence.

Arcane forces surged as a sorcerer enacted Arcane Detection to unravel the secrets hidden within Peter's being.

A guardian sorcerer bestowed upon the fighters Guardian's Valor, a radiant shield of divine protection that fortified their defenses and bolstered his resolve. Encased in the divine mantle, they stood resolute, unyielding in the face of adversity.

Reality itself trembled as a sorcerer enacted Reality Manipulation to reshape the fabric of existence to their advantage.

Elemental forces surged in a cataclysmic Elemental Discharge to engulf Peter in their destructive might.

A sorcerer called upon the spirits, casting Spirit Summoning to beckon spectral allies to their aid.

The very fabric of reality rippled as a sorcerer enacted a Dimensional Shift to bend the boundaries of space and time.

A master illusionist wove an Illusionary Cloak, shrouding themselves and their allies in a veil of deceptive mirages.

Energies surged and crackled as a sorcerer manipulated Energy Burst, unleashing a devastating release of raw power.

A mage began by invoking the ancient incantation of Circle of Death, a dark necromantic spell that sent waves of necrotic energy rippling towards Peter.

As a mage focused his concentration, his mind delved into Peter's thoughts with the spell Detect Thoughts.

The onslaught continued with a mage casting Burning Hands, engulfing Peter in a raging inferno.

A gust of wind spiraled around Peter, conjured by a foe using the spell Warding Wind. Its powerful cyclonic force threatened to throw him off balance.

The dark arts were called upon next, as a mage chanted the incantation for Sickening Radiance. An eerie green glow emanated from the spell's epicenter, trying to sap Peter's strength and twist his very essence.

Summon Fey creatures materialized from thin air, summoned by another mage. Their ethereal presence danced around Peter to ensnare him with enchantments and beguiling melodies.

The realm of dreams invaded his waking reality as an adversary cast the spell Dream. Visions and illusions assailed Peter to unsettle his mind and blur the lines between reality and fantasy.

Summon Undead creatures clawed their way from the netherworld, commanded by a sinister sorcerer. Their skeletal forms lunged at Peter, their bony fingers craving his flesh.

The battlefield plunged into darkness as the spell Maddening Darkness was invoked. Inky shadows swirled around Peter, whispering taunts and planting seeds of doubt.

Summon Construct brought forth mechanical monstrosities, forged from iron and imbued with arcane power. These metal giants loomed over Peter, their mechanical jaws snapping and gears grinding with deadly precision.

A mighty Summon Golem spell resonated through the battlefield, causing the earth to tremble as an enormous creature of stone and earth arose. Its colossal fists crashed towards Peter, threatening to crush him under its immense weight.

In a brief respite, a spellcaster used Shape Water to manipulate the very element itself. Waves surged towards Peter to engulf him and drag him beneath their watery depths.

As a last resort, a mage unleashed the forbidden spell of Essence Manifestation. Raw magical energy crackled in the air, converging into a swirling vortex that threatened to tear Peter apart on a molecular level.

The spells flew at Peter simulatenously.

Peter stared and glanced behind him before turning his gaze forward, slowly fidgeting with his hands. A subtle smile formed on his face before a look of acceptance with a hint of distress. He took a deep breath, having so many things to say.

He turned into nothing, defeated. Instead, Sigurd appeared, running to where Peter had been. "Peter? No, no, no, no, I decided I wouldn't let this happen." He went on his knees and attached his knees to match where Peter's knees had been. He lay down and removed his spirit from the world with a spell, causing Peter's spirit to replace his.

Chapter 22
Peter now moved in Sigurd's body. "What?" he said in a dreamy voice.

He saw the mages and ran.

He fell down, feeling a gravitational weight keep him down. He failed to move again.

The mages cast another barrage of spells.

Peter gulped.

"Peter, you're seconds away from dying." I, the author of this novel series, said. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Peter saw a heavenly image above him. "I... just... never thought I'd have a chance. I should have died long ago instead of living so happily and met so many people. I don't deserve all this happiness. The world was kind to me. I feel happy. I feel content. It's fine if I die here."

I shook my head. "You have to keep suffering. If not for me, do it for yourself." I made up a spell that allowed Peter to teleport away and cast it.

Peter escaped.

Hours later, he was screaming: "No! No! No!"

He fell limp to the ground and glanced around him. "Why am I in a black room? No!

"No!" He wailed.

"No!" He whimpered and sniffled, gasping.

He imagined the ghosts from his childhood running at him through corridors.

"I can't do this anymore..."

He returned to reality in the green grass.

The fields of grass and the vast blue sky were absolutely stunning.

Their scenery was picturesque and awe-inspiring, with the lush green blades of grass swaying gently in the breeze.

The fields stretched out as far as the eye could see, creating a sense of openness and tranquility.

It was dotted with coffin-shaped burial mounds scattered throughout. They act as windbreakers, providing shelter for the grass and creating microclimates within the field. They offer small pockets of shade.

The vibrant blue sky above provided a perfect backdrop, adorned with fluffy white clouds that floated lazily by.

The combination of the vibrant green and the serene blue created a harmonious and captivating vista.

It was truly a wonder of nature, and being surrounded by such beauty was always a pleasant sight to behold.

"I can't leave them. Even with everything. I will not leave them! You hear me! You will not tempt me to devastation. I will see this through. My family still needs me. My people still need me. I still need to participate. I still have a role. I still have a place. I need to provide. I need to help. I need to be humble. I am a part of the collective. I shall not deviate for malicious reasons. I will do my hardest. I shall see this through. Everything this is. All of this! This is everything! You can't stop me! No one ever will! If you do, then do it! Because I live and then I die! I'm so tired of you! Life! Your name is Life! And I will never stop beating my heart just to understand... just to live... just to be nice, kind, and warm. To extend a face. To extend a love. To extend a soul. To show my spirit. You know?" He burst into tears of primarily joy.

After grieving for a long while, he raised himself off the ground.

He knew he was in Sigurd's human body. He had lost his brown hair, 5’4 height, curly hair, human teeth, eyes, mustache, mustard-yellow wool plaid jacket, desert-yellow cargo pants, lavender-purple cotton shirt, mustard-yellow linen walk shorts, and thin-framed glasses.

He sighed sagely.

"Come, let me earn the understanding of the world again and forever."

He raised his paw and tried to cast magic; instead a mouse went up to him. "Sigurd, you're not Sigurd. Peter, since you're in Sigurd's body now, giving you access to mice communication seems obvious, but we'd rather not yet."

"Ha..." Peter felt defeated. "Acknowledged."

The mouse ran off and faded into thin air.

Peter walked on his new human legs, feeling accustomed to his revitalized muscles.

"I can't think." Peter was in shock. "I'm in another body." His view of the fields seemed to expand, his imagination supplanting the hidden parts of his view. He visualized his tiny figure standing in a field of grass from afar. "Wow."

He felt a mix of depression and awe, but he failed to cry; instead, a faint ache pressed inside his chest.

He walked forward, the waving of his legs releasing the tension of his stiff muscles. "I need to find them." He shifted to a brisk walk.

He burst into a dash.

From the path, he saw he was still far away from the nearest town.

"I feel nothing." He glanced toward his heart.

He walked along with a stone-faced expression, passing by the greatest beauties of rocks, trees, and the forest; however, his feelings failed to correspond to their beauty.

"I killed a man."

His face was still like a psychopath, but inside, he was full of life, tangible emotions tingled and spun, making seeming flashes of light and bubbly colors. He was processing with a backdrop of numbness.

He reached out toward the sky, yet despite his emotional journey, he was stuck on the earth. He wanted emotional liberation and transcendence.

He walked, grunting at each step.

In another place, some time later, he sang, pretending to play a guitar, tears dripping, wiping his tears whenever he paused.

A moment later, he said, "Just sacks of meat, huh."

He left, soon seeing an inn.

Situated amidst a picturesque countryside, surrounded by lush greenery and the vibrant energy of a bustling crowd, stood a charming inn that exuded an atmosphere of freshness and vibrancy. This lively establishment attracted visitors from far and wide, eager to experience the warm hospitality and lively ambiance that filled its walls.

The inn's exterior boasted a well-maintained facade, adorned with fresh coats of paint that glistened under the sunlight. Cheerful flower baskets hung from the windows, adding a burst of color and fragrance to the scene. A vibrant sign above the entrance displayed the inn's name, beckoning guests with its inviting charm.

As Peter stepped inside, he was greeted by a lively hum of conversation and laughter that filled the air. The foyer was abuzz with activity, as guests checked in with smiles on their faces and anticipation in their eyes. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and delectable pastries wafted from a nearby café corner, enticing visitors to indulge in culinary delights.

The common areas of the inn were adorned with comfortable seating arrangements, where guests gathered in animated conversations. Plush sofas and armchairs, adorned with vibrant cushions, provided cozy spots for relaxation and socializing. The walls were adorned with tasteful artwork and photographs, showcasing the local scenery and adding a touch of charm to the vibrant ambiance.

The guest rooms were havens of comfort and style, decorated with a modern yet inviting aesthetic. Soft, freshly laundered linens adorned the beds, while tastefully arranged furniture offered both functionality and elegance. Large windows welcomed natural light, providing picturesque views of the surrounding countryside. Each room was filled with the delightful scents of freshly cut flowers, enhancing the sense of tranquility and luxury.

The inn's bustling dining hall was a hub of culinary delights and conviviality. Well-dressed waitstaff moved gracefully between tables, serving a delectable array of dishes made from locally sourced ingredients. The clinking of glasses and the symphony of satisfied murmurs filled the air as guests savored their meals and shared memorable moments with friends and loved ones.

Within the vibrant atmosphere of the inn, Peter could sense the joy and liveliness that filled the space. It was a place where strangers became friends, where stories were shared and laughter echoed. The inn thrived as a gathering place for those seeking warmth, comfort, and the vibrant energy of a community coming together.

In this fresh and lively inn, the air was filled with anticipation, the rooms were brimming with contented guests, and the spirit of hospitality and camaraderie permeated every corner. It was a testament to the inn's commitment to providing a memorable experience, where the harmonious blend of comfort, vibrancy, and genuine hospitality created a truly exceptional getaway for all who crossed its threshold.

Nearby, a large group of adventurers shared the scene, their expressions gloomy. Their weapons and armor were void of light, ghostly terrors of the night. The sound of metal reverberating against metal zoomed through the fog like a whistly arrow. The grasps of various weapons were strong and haggard against the wails of weakness. Their tools bore sharp edges that adjoined with their steel formation. Their armor rustled, and their pitch-black plates had a smooth rock-like taste. The ethereal movements of their ordered lines cast a symmetrical shadow upon the ground. The gray moods that they carried shot through the fog and impressed upon those who lay their naked eyes on them. The fog out of which their cloudy statuesque figures were born aligned with the angelic huffs and puffs they voiced.

Peter's presence was soft like a twig. He expressed his humility by sitting down to match the height of the common folk, which were the goblins.

Beside him, at the inn, a couple started a new conversation.

"Why did you eat meat?" John asked, raising an eyebrow at Sarah, who sat across from him at the dinner table.

"Why, that's because I understand meat," Sarah replied confidently, taking a bite of her steak.

John chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "Well, if you really wanted to eat meat, then you would have to go through the trials of someone as far-fetched as anyone else."

Sarah paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. "Trials? What trials are you talking about?"

John grinned mischievously. "Now, I don't know if the specific person that I'm referring to has the delicateness of understanding that one needs to undergo such a troublesome and indicative experience. Like riding a boat, for example. It's such a wonderful thing, really."

Sarah looked puzzled. "I'm not sure I follow. How does riding a boat relate to eating meat?"

John shrugged. "I can't explain exactly what, but you will understand very soon enough that not everyone... and I say not everyone deserves to eat a bunch of chicken in the morning without the spicy pleasantries of going through a molten breakfast."

Sarah's confusion deepened. "Spicy pleasantries and molten breakfast? What on earth are you talking about?"

John chuckled again, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Absolutely fabulous. If I could explain in better words, I would. But imagine the immediate flavor. It reminds me so much of that feeling you get when you're about to get robbed. It's a heightening feeling."

Sarah's brow furrowed. "I'm not sure I understand how being robbed relates to eating meat. And why would anyone want to be robbed?"

John waved a hand dismissively. "I can't be bothered with how it all happened, but you can guess that getting robbed myself isn't such a great thing. Yes. In any case, there will be plenty of people who would rather just go off and move on somehow from some crazy guy."

Sarah sighed, growing impatient. "Okay, let's focus on the main point. What are you trying to say about eating meat?"

John leaned forward, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "Imagine being a latent person, and the first thing you eat is meat. It's just absolutely beautiful. Crazy-beautiful, even. I can't even explain just how beautiful it is."

Sarah shook her head, bewildered. "I'm sorry, but I still don't understand what you mean by 'latent person' or why eating meat is beautiful. Can you please explain it more clearly?"

John chuckled once more, realizing the convoluted nature of his explanation. "You know what? Never mind. Let's just enjoy our dinner. Pass me the salt, please."

Peter found himself relaxing at the interesting conversation.

He recognized John as the one who had approached the talented mage whom he had killed. "Excuse me. Do you recognize me?"

John smiled. "I do. Was waiting for you come by and say something, but I assumed you were quite the not-so-accomodating gentleman yourself. Either way, my name's John. What happened to that person with you?"

Peter frowned. "He passed... to a different country." He had been about to say "pass away," but he had stopped himself.

John guessed Peter's true meaning. "I see. What do you think of eating right now with us at this table? This is my newly wed bride. How she goes?"

Sarah smiled. "Hello there! My name is Sarah. I couldn't help but notice you from across the room."

Peter, the only human in the inn, chuckled. "I can see that."

"That reminds me... I want to ask you about magic."

John smirked toward Sarah, making Sarah widen her eyes.

After exchanging their names with each other, John, Sarah, and Peter walked down a path to the forest.

John's hands moving gracefully through the air, punctuating his words with gestures that conveyed his passion. He spoke with a calm yet determined tone, his voice rising and falling with each thought.

"Creation is a delicate process," he began, his hand tracing an invisible path through the air. "Okay, you go through the motions, and that's alright." He paused, looking around the room, making eye contact with Sarah and Peter. "What really matters is you put your heart into it."

As he spoke those words, his's hand pressed against his chest, emphasizing the importance of emotional involvement. "And when you finish creating the product," he corrected himself with a chuckle, "or, I mean, of course, the magical creation." His voice took on a whimsical quality, his tone lightening as he embraced the idea of something extraordinary.

"When you really want to create it and you put your heart into it," he continued, his voice growing more intense, "you will make it. You will create it. That's just how it works." His hand swept through the air in an upward motion, as if reaching for the stars. "You're just...brain." He tapped his temple gently, a mix of awe and amusement in his voice. "That's just how the brain goes. It's, It's that good. I'm telling you."

John's voice became more emphatic, his tone carrying a sense of conviction. "If your soul and spirit are really involved with the process, you're going to be able to actually make something." His fingers intertwined, as if symbolizing the connection between the intangible and the tangible. "Golems, goblins. Whatever fucking thing you need. You're just that...intelligent."

A mischievous grin played on his's face as he spoke, his tone shifting to a playful one. "That's how the human brain works, you know. You don't have to worry about anything." His hands spread wide, as if encompassing the entire forest. "Just go experience your life, and be human."

His voice softened, filled with a sense of wonder. "You're going to get things when you least expect it." John's gaze seemed to drift, as if envisioning the possibilities. "You're going to go places where you least...expect to go. That's just how it works."

His's voice grew more animated, his tone rising with excitement. "Your brain works that way. It intercepts reality, and reality gives back to you." His hands moved in a swirling motion, as if illustrating the dynamic exchange. "Your brain and reality are intertwined in an interconnected experience. That's how awesome it is to be creating! It's just crazy...incomprehensibly! It's that cool!"

He concluded his speech with a wide grin.

He began to dance animatedly as a golem formed in front of him from particles in the trees, rocks, dirt, and the air.

Peter gawked at John and the golem.

"Impressive, isn't it?" John said. "Don't worry. I know reality is beautiful."

Sarah smiled warmly. "Well, that's... In any case, well that's just how it works. He's, he's like that. Unfortunately. Fortunately. Well, that's the best thing. But at the same time. I know it can be kinda... c-confusing. Weirdly... enough... yeah."

Observing them, Peter felt his sense of view shift again from intimate and local to aerial and fish-eyed. "You..." He smiled.

John showed a normal joking expression, responding to Sarah: "If by "like that", you mean marvelous ... well, it's a gift. Beyond my control."

Later, John, his golem, and Sarah led Peter to a cave where monsters roamed.

John took a deep breath and leapt into the darkness, his form disappearing.

Peter ran inside with him, shifting to a slow jog.

Sarah emerged behind Peter, walking by and scanning her surroundings carefully.

She wielded a crossbow.

John's golem stood beside her, overshadowing Sarah.

Spiraling crack-like red-pigmented marks formed radially on Peter's back.

Sarah shot at Peter.

The bolt she shot disappeared on impact.

She wiped Peter's back with a handkerchief.

Peter, lying, on the ground, gasped for air.

"Peter, your sweat is getting too much. My crossbow is enchanted with healing bolts. Don't worry."

Peter pressed himself up on his palms, his arms straightened outward, his knees and toes planted on the ground.

"Damn, Sarah, that hurt and felt good at the same time. I don't know how to describe it." The pain from the bolt hitting his back, the bolt's departure, and the succeeding euphoria had been instantaneous that he felt like a snake bit him for his body to teleport to the peak of intercourse.

Peter stood up. "What happened?"

Sarah showed Peter the hardened red marks on the ground. "They seem to be a curse—"

John ran over to them. "Red beasts! Three of them! And there's a goblin with them!"

A shadow appeared behind John and slashed his neck.

John died, which caused his golem to collapse.

Sarah's eyes turned red, grabbed John's sword, and attacked Peter, cutting his forearm off.

"Wrong." said an echoing voice from behind them.

Peter screamed and bolted off, but he fell and hit his head hard.

Meanwhile, another voice said, "Go."

How did he fuck up? Peter cried. He couldn't understand why there were even monsters there. He wanted to throw himself off a bridge because of how frustrated he was. He was not really depressed, but the idea of running away and hiding was starting to sound appealing. He needed to get himself out of there.

Chapter 23
He reached out and grabbed a rock.

The rock was so slippery. No, it was the sweat. The sweat was too much.

He lifted himself with his legs.

Arghh! The difficulty of this started to make him irritated. He needed to heal himself quick, but how could he when his arms felt so weak? His left forearm was gone for goodness' sake!

An axe struck his back. Peter screamed. He tried to use magic, but all his magic was gone since he was in Sigurd's human body.

After a moment of contemplation, the axe struck Peter again, but Peter healed himself in a second, stood up, and dashed out of the range of another strike.

Sarah fell to the ground behind him, her head rolling.

Two demons slashed toward his neck, one of them casting a mind control spell.

Peter stopped, forgetting why he was running.

He healed himself after he saw his broken arms.

The mind control spell broke, and Peter dodged the demons' blades.

How many exits? Only one. He needed to get there as soon as possible. His brain was working fast, but the bleeding... No time to think about that. He had to conserve his energy instead of wasting it all on healing.

He escaped the cave. He shouted muffled profanities.

He found his voice, "What is going on!"

An arrow struck his nape. Peter desparately healed himself internally and externally, but the arrow remained a foreign object.

He choked in shock, collapsing. "Where did all these powerful people come from?"

Several significant players were part of this world.

Peter decided to live a slow life, helping people live peaceful lives instead of fighting, feelign guilt.

"This world's culture is just that different after all." Despite his depressed tone, he ran with all his might. "I'm not dying today!" Tears flooded his cheeks.

He reached a town.

"Peter," messaged a voice. "It's me, Sigurd. I'm awake now finally. We've merged."

Peter lost control of his body, and Sigurd gained control. "You can stay back, or I can stay back. You choose."

Peter sighed and burst into chuckling in a mix of shock, anger, relief, and excitement. "Okay! You take control while I watch!" He remembered that his appearance would be different because of the merging. "Check your reflection, please."

They exchanged control of the mouth to speak.

Sigurd went inside an inn, ignoring the stares they were getting and the weight in his nape.

He gazed into a mirror. Peter saw an eerie combination of Sigurd's original body's appearance and his one's appearance. "Wow," he messaged.

Meanwhile, Sigurd messaged, shouting, "You have a conspicuous arrow in your nape!"

"You didn't feel it?"

"I didn't dare touch anything because I was afraid you'd done some magic spell."

"Thank you so much." Peter's tone was full-hearted.

"You're welcome." Sigurd smiled, but his smile disappeared. "We have to get this fixed."

Sigurd took out a pendant from his pocket and threw it out. "That is the Remorseful Talisman. It might not suit you."

"What does it do?"

"It's a pendant. It's intricately small made with silver with a tear-shaped gemstone at its center. When you wear it, the gemstone glows softly, and... resonates with your guilt.  It's like as a conduit for reflection and introspection, helping you confront their guilt and work toward healing and personal growth. As you progress, the gemstone changes color, symbolizing your journey toward forgiveness and inner peace. The talisman is a tangible representation of your commitment to self-improvement and making amends."

Peter nodded, finding that Sigurd's ability to impart information remained as excellent as before.

He messaged to be helpful, "We can go to Richardess right?" He had taken this suggestion from his friend Rol.

After the merged body of Peter and Sigurd got surgical intervention at a hospital, Sigurd waved over a mouse running up to him. "Sigurd," said this mouse, "you're Sigurd. You have obtained access to the mice network." The mouse smiled at Peter.

Peter felt grateful to the dholes, mice, and Sigurd.

Sigurd put on a smile. "What's happening?" he messaged.

The mouse nodded. "We've discovered that the kobolds met a human. We've looking for the human." It left and faded into thin air.

While Sigurd went about his life, Peter processed his experiences.

Days passed. It felt like the sky was moving on its own. Sometimes, Peter looked at it to stop it; however, he had little time to take in any more of this new information. He had to sort his thoughts to avoid a headache.

Peter contemplated the implications of his past developments that presented him with a silver platter of knowledge.

One of his guesses was that Ben was actually helping Peter the entire time, but he was bad at handling humans. He had both a love-hate relationship with being a goblin and praising humans. It was in his best interest to be in Peter's side.

Another of his guesses was that the dholes' best interest was to be on Peter's side. Their lack of protection toward Peter was kind of strange because they should know about him. The dholes intervened many times through Sigurd and the others.

Even if the dholes didn't intervene, someone else would. Sigurd's best interest was to be on Peter's side. Peter was a human and a powerful and active one at that, participating in goblin and dhole society unlike many humans.

Peter was getting so much more protection than he expected, and at the same time, he would encounter other humans who feel threatened by the fact that others were investing in him more than them.

Peter was not necessarily omniscient, but Richardess, one of the dholes, having an infatuation and reverence toward Peter was a reflection of how dhole society sees Peter.

The dholes gave Peter access to the mice, which were used to communicate like the Internet, to foster trust, but it would be regulated secretly. Two birds with one stone; fostering trust and giving him information that'd be helpful.

The fact that Ben impeded Peter by turning him into a painting in which he was paralyzed has little grounds. There are many possible reasons for this: Peter was going in a direction they didn't want. Two, Ben was out of control and decided to take country-level decisions into his own hands, which was unlikely since dhole society was very collectivist.

Dhole had conflicts over their own matters and the matter of Peter. Goblins invested in dholes that aligned with their goals of investing in Peter. Humans invested in dholes and goblins that aligned with their best interests, including Peter.

Peter's massacre of the kobolds not having a bigger impact was concerning; however, it didn't have to appear obvious yet. It could come as a surprise, collaborating with evil forces in order to get ahead. They could be a wild card like Peter, switching sides in big conflicts. They could be pretending to be genuine, nice, friendly, and submissive, but in actuality, they were a force that would activate at the peak of conflict. At that time, Peter would be at the side, realizing the kobolds getting a larger share than they would have gotten if they hadn't been proactive and using the fact that people look down on them as a tool to weave themselves under the cupboards and tables to get the slices of bread that people believed would have gone to the victors. The victors would gain, but the kobolds were the thieves at the right moment.

Peter would be like the Suez Canal, a very useful tool that all kinds of people will collaborate with and use to achieve their goals.

Peter's human form posed an issue when it comes to other people minding their business. The everyday people, instead of treating Peter like a stranger, treated him with awe, respect, and wariness, thus isolating and confusing him. The everyday people would move with the conflicts, fleeing and protesting in order to control the unpredictability of Peter and the forces that gained from his existence.

The everyday people would suffer by reason of the system that Peter would have accidentally designed to be broken and divided. This broken system would deliver power and riches to a few at the top. It would be the best interest of the people at the top to maintain the broken system Peter would have accidentally designed.

Human powers would use this as another moment to flex their diplomatic muscles and broker a peace in the country Peter was in.

Unpredictable elements could utilize any form of attack against Peter, and with each of those attacks, debuted a new ally whose best interests was to protect and side with him.

Of course, Peter would be threatened and almost die from time to time, which was fine because forces want to use him, but they didn't want to reveal themselves. So there was still danger for him.

Peter continued speculating, feeling that the goblins with frog heads were goblins that some spell affected to an extreme degree that it spawned a lineage of goblins with this odd head.

The golem that was limping while returning from Callous' death was a stray golem that spawned from adventurer dungeons.

The dhole gentleman to whom Richardess was speaking was a rich dhole associated with the association to which Richardess belonged and possibly the dhole empire's new head of state as well.

The spell that Ben's 50 soldiers cast to turn Peter into a painting was a high-level spell.

He cooked up the guesses in his head over many pensive weeks.

During that time, he got plenty of answers from Sigurd.

"'Taray' was the name of the country where he was. It was an archipelago with thousands of individual islands.

"The town to which he had been in dhole land was called 'Pulang Ilaw Bahaghari,' where he met Callous for the first time.

"'Zon' was the name of the town where he was.

"'Sigla' was the name of the city where he was.

"The kobolds included the tribal ones, the ones integrated into human, goblin, and dhole societies, and the builder nomad groups. Some of them were exceptional at fighting, but it was a rarity. Those who did show exceptionality ruled the kobold military, but chiefdoms, larger kingdoms, council elders, nobles, and court officials was the more significant contributor. Some rulers occurred due to military coups. However, the kobold people were patient and concerned with the environment due to their environment-interacting building skills.

"Peter, I can understand that you've been through some difficult experiences, and it's natural for those experiences to have an impact on your memory or knowledge. If you're comfortable sharing, I'm here to listen and support you." Sigurd recognized that since Peter was asking questions people learn growing up, he must have forgotten because of the bad experiences he had undergone.

Peter messaged, "I appreciate your concern and care for me. However, I want to say you that I'm not experiencing the bad stuff—depression and/or trauma."

"Then why are you asking me these questions?"

Peter saw the hole in his argument when he messaged, "Uh, maybe, I did have some trauma." In reality, his ignorance about common knowledge chiefly resulted from his recent arrival from Earth to the different world where he was, rather than from any trauma.

Peter turned the conversation around, "Do you know about the hunters I met?"

Sigurd nodded, appearing as an image in Peter's mind. "They're the ones you had to take out because they threatened your life. That one is still alive—Déballage. John was a hunter like them too. Sorry. I mean Helper 1." His head drifted away in thought, looking at the scenery.

Peter put on a façade of malice to protect his vulnerable emotions inside. "Right..." He gave a toothy grin.

Sigurd turned toward Peter, his thoughts spiraling.

As he gazed upon the vibrant scenery, his eyes were abruptly drawn to a figure lurking amid the beauty. There stood a man named Peter, a dark presence against the backdrop of serenity. His malevolent grin was like a sinister crack in the idyllic landscape.

It began with his lips, stretched tautly across his face, as if pulled by invisible strings. But there was nothing charming about this smile; it held no warmth or joy. Instead, it revealed an unsettling display of teeth, glistening like polished ivory, but lacking any sense of innocence.

His teeth, unnaturally straight and white, seemed to bear a malevolence of their own. They were like a row of sharp, gleaming daggers, ready to strike at any moment. Each tooth was meticulously aligned, as if designed to deliver maximum harm.

The corners of Peter's mouth curled upward with a predatory hunger.

His grin seemed to devour the innocence of the scenery, transforming the peaceful surroundings into a haunting stage for his wickedness.

It was a toothy grin that conveyed a twisted delight in the suffering of others, as if Peter reveled in the chaos he could unleash. The air around him grew heavy with a sense of unease, as though the very landscape recoiled from his sinister aura.

In that moment, Sigurd couldn't help but feel a chill run down my spine. Peter's malicious toothy grin seemed to embody a darkness that tainted everything it touched, casting a shadow over the scenic beauty that surrounded him.

Sigurd recognized that Peter's malicious smile contradicted his good perceptions of him.

Peter let go of his smile and expressed apathy. "I want to provide them a grave of some sort. You remember I didn't say anything about Helper 1, Helper 4, and Callous..."

Tears streamed Peter and Sigurd's single, shared body's cheeks. "S-sorry, I didn't expect that," Sigurd messaged. He was the one crying about the death of the dholes Helper 1, Helper 4, and Callous.

Peter looked down slowly as if expecting his failure to communicate about sensitive topics. "I'm sorry."

Sigurd nodded, wiping their body's tears. "Sure, you can provide them something. The hunters and the dholes. That won't be a bad thing."

Peter messaged, "Who is the dhole gentleman Richardess was talking to?"

"He's a noble and a diplomat whose role is to get the master builder kobolds building defences in territorial disputes between warlords."

"Sounds like you've had someone ask you that before."

"No."

"Okay. Who is Richardess?" He wanted to know more about his dhole friend Richardess.

"Richardess is... a noble arriviste." Sigurd rubbed his moustache.

"I still don't understand why she, out of all the dholes including Laol, Callous, and the other six, choose to get involved with me."

"Richardess has goals she must meet as the side effects of her items. She values those items."

"Wait, wait, wait, what do you mean 'items'?"

"Items... magical items. They have side effects. You forgot your axe, so I cannot use that as an example."

Peter squinted. "How do you know about my axe?"

"Margareth saw it, and the mice saw it too."

Peter's mind swirled. "I forgot the weapons."

Sigurd raised his brow. "Yeah, you forgot your axe."

"No, no, I forgot the weapons, the strong ones."

Sigurd sighed. "Don't expect us not to know about that too. It's been taken away. The kobolds are using it. You visited the kobolds twice too."

Peter tilted his head up and around in tension. "I don't know anymore.

"Who was Callous? Who was John? Who was the renaming thing? This seriously doesn't make sense. Why? Why? Why?"

"Where are the weapons?"

Sigurd compressed his lips, Peter infecting him with his tension. "With the kobolds. I just said."

Peter rubbed his forehead. "I can't do this. Give me a break."

He soothed himself and meditated while Sigurd went on his day, visiting dholes and chopping trees down.

While inside Sigurd's body, Peter learned about many dholes through direct interactions. Sigurd translated some of the dholes' speech for him.

Dholes talked about their daily lives.

"Another dawn, another day of toiling the fields. The land demands much, but it sustains us all."

"In the crowded streets, the scent of spices from faraway lands intertwines with the cries of merchants. Every day is an adventure for those with open eyes."

"Amidst the flickering candlelight, I pen my thoughts. In the silence of the monastery, I find solace, and words become my companions."

"The village square is abuzz with gossip. News travels like wildfire, spreading from ear to eager ear."

"The cobbles beneath my feet tell tales of centuries gone by. Every step is a connection to our ancestors, grounding us in the history that surrounds us."

"With each stroke of the loom, my hands weave threads of beauty and purpose. In the quiet of my workshop, I create a tapestry of life."

"The flickering hearth warms not only our bodies but our hearts as well. Gathered around the fire, we share stories and laughter, finding comfort in each other's presence."

"The sea stretches infinitely before me, an invitation to explore the unknown. I am but a humble sailor, seeking adventure beyond the horizon."

"The tolling bells mark the passage of time, a constant reminder of our mortality. Each day is a gift to cherish and make our mark upon this fleeting world."

"The aroma of freshly baked bread fills the air, beckoning all to indulge in its warmth and nourishment. Simple pleasures make life worth living."

Peter wished to understand these people and their entire beings. They had good lives, but he wished to understand them all the more to identify what a suffering man should receive.

Peter restrained himself from asking Sigurd questions, observing people like an introverted child. Soon, he slipped into the personality and temperament of a spectator. When Sigurd encouraged him to engage and participate, Peter answered with brevity.

Chapter 24
In a church, after Peter had become highly confident and grounded due to having generous time to think, Sigurd messaged him, "What do you like out of all of these food?"

Peter found messaging, or talking telepathically with Sigurd, to be tedious and languorous. He also found their new body bothersome during bouts of feasting and swigging with the feeling of the new grown moustache.

Sigurd flicked his brows upward, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his delicate lips. "You have performed excellently." He bit his fingernails out of curiosity for his new human body and out of boredom.

He exchanged control of their body to Peter. Peter left the church to a secluded area.

Behind a group of dholes on quad wheelchairs, Peter looked around him and took on a whispering and muffled voice, covering his mouth and nose with his fingers splayed out. "What of the loudmouths and the boasters? What of the people with grand dreams and aspirations? What of those who survived countless slaughters and struggles? Ashen away, turned to dust like petty callous little pricks on the ground to be treaded on."

Sigurd borrowed control of their body, raised his brows, and joined in out of fascination despite his ignorance of Peter's meaning. "Where are they now, indeed!"

Peter calmed down and regained control of their body, glancing at a few dholes lying on a wagon. "Hold up."

Sigurd thought he had a manchild's impression, but he trusted Peter's experience, relying on their shared mental communication to speak to Peter.

Peter messaged: "Hold up. I know these dholes."

Sigurd messaged solemnly, "I've seen him before."

"You have?"

"No, I'm kidding. Of course not." Sigurd chuckled.

Peter squinted, lukewarm.

"I saw goblins with frog heads."

"'Frogs'?"

"Ah, I see."

Peter had ignored the crowd in the distance in front of a dhole atop a soapbox, giving speeches with a hoarse and grating voice.

The dhole crowd gave Peter one hard look.

Peter was seen impeccably dressed in an ensemble that showcased his tall and imposing figure. He wore a finely tailored doublet, which emphasized his stature and featured a close-fitting bodice made of rich fabrics like velvet, silk, or brocade. The doublet was intricately decorated with embroidery or trim, adding a touch of elegance to his appearance.

Peter paired his doublet with knee-length breeches, which were fastened at the waist with buttons or a drawstring. These breeches complemented the style of the doublet and were likely made of the same luxurious fabric. Completing his ensemble, Peter wore long stockings, typically made of silk or wool, held up with garters just below the knee.

To further enhance his look, Peter donned a waistcoat, a sleeveless garment worn over the doublet. The waistcoat added both style and an extra layer to his outfit, possibly made from a contrasting fabric that highlighted his attention to detail.

He exuded an air of sophistication and refinement, adding to his overall aura of power and control. His clothing choices reflected his social status and desire to project an image of authority.

Peter's physical features were sharp and striking. He possessed a strong jawline, piercing eyes, and a cold, calculating gaze that conveyed his ruthless nature. These attributes, combined with his composed and enigmatic expressions, made him an imposing figure to encounter. Peter's facial features were accentuated by his slicked-back hair, which adds to his polished and well-groomed appearance.

Beyond his physical appearance, Peter's demeanor was equally intimidating. He possessed an unwavering confidence and a commanding presence that demanded attention whenever he enters a room. He carries himself with a sense of entitlement, as if he believes he is always in control of any situation. Peter's speech pattern was often measured, precise, and filled with conviction, displaying his eloquence and ability to sway others with his words.

Peter and the crowd fixed their eyes on each other. The dhole on the soapbox hesitated, realized Peter's presence, and stopped speaking, turning his body in an irritated motion.

Peter stopped pacing in place and speaking to Sigurd, opting to turn around and leave. His figure was indicative of the presence of humans, which alerted the goblins and the dholes to show respect primarily out of instinct. Peter's emotionally intelligent attitude due to his experiences and growth in physical hibernation toward life extended outward, accentuating his presence.

The crowd averted their gazes as soon as Peter had his back turned to them for several long seconds. The speaker, abruptly, ran his hands through the air and spoke vehemently about humans and their destructive behavior.

Peter was ignorant of the vehemence, leaving like a spectator.

He analyzed several different characters from the crowd, one of which looked quite bothered with humans. He ignored the speaker temporarily, focusing on the humans that backed away and advanced. Those who remained still were probably still in life attitudinally; he pressed an imagined finger through the sticky, broken strings that held his memories together. He huffed in an apathetic tone, his lips opening slightly to sigh softly. He held a strong belief that the only thing worth co-existing with was a pet dog from Earth.

He shook his head, asking Sigurd mentally if he knew about ancient history.

Sigurd nodded. "I can inform of several different facets of history through the eyes of the dholes; I warn you. Our information goes only as far back as 200 years ago due to the non-existence of the cooperation between the mice and the dholes then."

Peter nodded, feeling assured that Sigurd had the answers for which he was looking. "I can trust you, right."

Sigurd smiled. "Assuredly, you may and you can!"

Peter chuckled, shifting from genuine delight to politeness. "I can't wager my cards just yet—"

"What cards?" Sigurd apologized shortly afterwards. "Sorry, I was excited to hear that you've been feeling much better since our last meeting."

Peter raised a brow. "You mean the meeting? I was fine then. Relatively."

"'Relatively,' indeed." A faint smile danced between the corners of Sigurd's mouth.

Peter sighed habitually. "If I manage to get a hand in this world, it's better be through you..." He paused, struggling to hide his interest. "Where's the mice?" His voice shifted between a sense of camaraderie to a cold-hearted tone. He repeated himself but with a lighter tone, pretending that his tone was friendly all along. "Hmm?"

Meanwhile, Sigurd shifted between happiness, sadness, and a sense of detachment to give Peter a structured answer. "I can get them now. You'll likely be hearing about things you already know—"

"I'd rather have it than not." Peter said with a polite tone but with some roughness. He was afraid that the mice were going to hold back on giving him information if he revealed his plans through his actions. He had plans to take over the place and make sure that he was safer than even the rare humans of whom he was ignorant and wary. "Okay." His voice carried a tone of resolution.

Sigurd began to turn his head, his eyes darting around to answer. "I remember..."

"Yes?" Peter was quick to message.

Sigurd felt lesser due to Peter's abrupt, choppy speech. "You know Richardess, right? She's watching us from nearby."

Peter's eyes widened. He held himself back from barking in a surprised, demanding tone; instead, he let out a gentle "Where?"

Sigurd smiled at one side of his mouth, his shoulder tensing and shifting away from Peter, his gaze turning sideways. "I know she's here, but she won't reveal them yet."

Peter nodded, his eyes wide in a gesture for Sigurd to explain himself.

Sigurd breathed deeply but cut himself off. "Let's just that Margareth and Helper 3 and Helper 2 are here as well."

Peter's gaze intensified even more.

Sigurd breathed out, relief lingering in his tone. "Somewhere here." He had used the word "somewhere" to indicate that they were actually far away.

"I see, I see." Peter brushed his assertive disposition as if it was an act. "I can deal with that."

Sigurd's shoulders raised in tension when he heard Peter use the word "deal" like he meant "murder."

The bitter, dark, organic aroma of coffee shot through the air as Peter sat inside a café.

The talk between Sigurd and Peter continued to exist in their shared mental connection inside their merged conjoined body.

Sigurd isolated a few guesses and inspected them separately, ending with the most critical one on hand. "Peter, you should really change your clothes," he said.

Peter gasped for air in laughter. "I just showered," he messaged, "or you just showered since we're in the same body."

The taut atmosphere Sigurd and Peter had had died down, for the taste of good bread and a filled stomach  enriched their wellbeing.

Their second lunch finished on a sour note as an adventurer in the café puked on the ground following their trip to the dungeons, contracting a disease which normal healing failed to affect.

Peter stepped forward, and with his incredible healing magic, he saved the adventurer.

Sigurd clapped.

Peter left, gaining a few pesos as thanks from the adventurer and their friends.

Sigurd smiled. "Worth."

Peter wanted to admonish him for talking so casually about someone's possible death, but he restrained himself, closing his eyes with a "humph."

When Peter recognized that he had an aged sagely temperament, he decided to be more rambunctious.

Peter contempltaed that he should cease from exhibiting overconfident behavior.

Outside the café, on the street, he rested one elbow against his other arm, rubbing the back of his former arm.

Sigurd explained ancient history: "We have several religions, or systems of faith and worship if that's what you prefer. The two turtle gods are a minority, highly ostracized and thought by many to be a backwards idea. They are the primary religion of the island Talos, which is under attack by Sigurdians. Not me. Sigurdians are a race known for their tall statures and red wings behind their back which they use for mating. Now, the nature of my descriptions lack the formality of a scholar because I'm not a scholar. I presume that this is the knowledge that most people have. The two turtle gods have tribes here and there worshipping it and making noise. When I say making noise, I mean magical noise that sounds like dholes and goblins barking at the same time but with a far-reaching effect due to sound amplification magic. Imagine that. You've probably heard voices from dholes and goblins, but that's a rarity. The turtle gods are ostracized, so of course, you'll see many of them running about with their infinite food and running back and forth. Running back and forth. They never truly go away no matter how many of us try to kill them. It's a morbid idea, but we'd rather just skim them over and move on than deal with a bunch of people who just won't die. Many people suggest making the turtle gods angry by forcing one of their believers to renounce their beliefs with the chanting and the offerings and other ritualistic, ceremonial preparations. That's the first part of it. There are sixteen more religions to consider among others due to how easy it is for people to live isolated and remote with magic giving us free food. Water is a relatively heavy concern, but that doesn't stop people from living so wildly."

Peter nodded. "Continue."

"Imagine the tall treants. The turtle gods exist beyond their hundreds of times beyond their heights. Maybe, even thousands. This is the power of the gods, but because man has magic, many believe that these turtle gods are actually extremely powerful creatures, spirits, or humans that have decided to take the role of spectator, conductor, guide, orderer, or soother of everyday stresses. This is the extent of the beliefs of the turtle gods' followers, and I don't blame them for it. It sounds pleasant.

When Sigurd's tone took on a dismissive tone, Peter furrowed his brows briefly. "Continue."

"Do you want to know about the tall treants? I was there."

Peter nodded with an expression of cautiousness toward Sigurd.

In the past, he killed Sigurd in self-defense. Sigurd revived and learned that Peter killed Helper 1, Callous, and Helper 4, turning to revenge and attempting to kill Peter.  However, he learned that all of Peter's killings were out of self-defense. He dealt with the guilt of almost killing Peter.

The tone of his statement about the tall treants and his direct connection to them contradicted Peter's heartfelt knowledge of him.

"Okay?" Peter messaged.

Sigurd's tone disappeared, taking on a sentimental and kind quality. "I made it hard for you, didn't I? I can't imagine how hard it is for you."

Peter felt guarded. "W-what are you saying?"

Sigurd smiled. "Sorry. The treants are special. They don't look or dress all that different from each other; however, their actions are guided by a individualistic mindset. It is part of their dignity to stay free from chains and only work alongside others instead of others being an essential constituent of them."

Meanwhile, Peter regained his composure, quietly taking deep breaths through his nose. "Then?" He looked around, afraid that a stranger would come and interrupt him while he sought the knowledge of this world. "Come on."

"The treants are equipped with artifacts that make up their stature. This is heavily dangerous, but I'm getting into detail here. Let's go back to the main topic. Main religions of the world. One of them is the turtle gods, and another is the Sun Sefist."

Peter stiffened. "Sun serfs?"

"Yeah, that's them."

Peter nodded. "Time to make a plan."

Ten days later, Peter stood in front of a treant, the one in the town he had first visited. "This pathway right?" He pointed toward an ethereal path in the air.

Sigurd approved.

Peter took a step up and climbed an invisible staircase toward the treant, a smirk etching his face. "Treant, how can I help you?"

The treant turned around fast that numerous whipping sounds boomed from it radially because of air displacement and muscle and limb movement. However, its magic automatically stilled the air and removed these sounds out of existence.

It took a step to adjust its footing as it turned around silently.

Its steps were silent due to magic.

Peter felt a headache due to drinking coffee and sugared bread, pressing on his brows and forcibly closing his eyes to stimulate tears to lubricate his eyes.

The treant spoke after sending a sharp, whistly noise to Peter that established a magical connection between them, "Good day, venerable Sir." He had a goblin upper-class accent like Richardess and Ben.

The treant showed him ten boxes. "Choose one. One of them will help me. The other nine won't. Instead, I will suffer agonizing pain."

Peter glared at him, confused. "What are you saying? Don't play with your life like that!"

"I need you to choose one right now. You know what's going to happen if you don't.

Peter's confusion deepened. "No, please explain to me. What's going to happen?"

"I need you to choose now..." Light radially and gradually departed from the treant, turning into a black figure. It was melting and falling apart.

Peter was shocked. "No because I don't understand what's happening!"

The treant disappeared.

"Why..." Peter messaged.

Sigurd stared at Peter, who kept glancing at him.

Peter sighed. "Is this how fast things change when I'm here? I want to understand this world before anything changes. Like pause, pause, pause, pause!"

Sigurd smiled. "Don't worry."

Peter looked hopeful. "So it's normal?"

Sigurd shrugged. "No, but treants don't have a history of murdering people. I told you already. Treants have their wills, and it's not up to dholes or goblins to control treants. The treant probably went to the spirit realm, but I'm not sure. Treants don't all have the same set of spells and artifacts. Ask a noble who lives here, and they might have an answer."

Peter looked in the direction of the goblin noble Ben.

After Peter reached Ben's mansion, two of Ben's servants told him that Ben was at the courtyard inside the adventurer dungeon where Peter had last been. Peter was familiar with these servants; however he rushed to leave to the courtyard.

At the courtyard, Ben conversed with three posh humans: a boy, a man with a long beard, and a man with a long, slovenly moustache and a small, puffy goatee.

The goblins and dholes walked, sat, and stood apart from Ben and the humans like ants.

Peter stood off the courtyard grounds, observing Ben's facial expressions.

He felt that the humans looked too comfortable with the tension they caused toward the dholes and goblins.

Peter reached out with his and Sigurd's body. Ben glanced at him and paused, his expression a shifting mixture of emotions.

Ben and the humans surrounding him waved their hands as a welcoming gesture.

Peter waved back.

Chapter 25
Peter walked up to Ben. "Ben, what's up with the treant?" Upon closer inspection, Peter recognized the dark circles on Ben's eyes and his tired expression.

Ben nodded in a resigned manner. "The treant disappeared? Don't worry. It's in one of the contracts we had with him. He likes to go out once in a while." After nodding, his head stayed lowered.

"'Out'? You mean the spirit realm right?" Peter glanced at Sigurd because he was the one who told him about the spirit realm.

Ben's head drooped, a sense of profound sadness enveloped him. "John is with the spirits now."

Sigurd messaged Peter, "John is Ben's son."

Peter lowered his voice in seriousness. "Why are you saying that now? John? Helper 1's father?" He mistakenly thought that Ben had referred to Helper 1, previously named "John".

Ben turned to him and smiled, confusing Peter's questions as part of a joke. "That's a joke." He felt that it was lame, but he was amused.

Peter found Ben's speech patterns conflicting with what he knew about him. Ben used to ramble, but now his answers were straightforward. He associated Ben's dejected demeanor with his altered persona.

Sigurd messaged Peter. "No, the John who talked to Danman, who was the talented mage you saw from Richardess."

The humans beside Ben observed them, smiling and nodding.

Ben smiled at Peter, expecting him to introduce himself to them.

Peter said, "I'm Peter. I also know that I can't possibly be anyone else." He had a joking tone.

One of the humans, the boy, said, "Sigurd?" Two poles appeared in front of him, both of which he grabbed. Twenty-inch-tall deep-red jelly balls stuck to the top of these poles, hanging like honey, with several scattered lumps on it. Stretch marks took up the thinner top sections. A tiny portion of each ball at the top tapered into a round bump.

Sigurd gasped and forced Peter to run.

Peter vied for control of their body and won, stopping their body to converse with the humans.

Peter messaged Sigurd, "What's wrong with you?"

The dhole Sigurd messaged: "I'm sorry. Humans frighten me."

The human Peter felt his view split into two, his body split into two, and the world split into two with him standing at the crack, dumbfounded. "What?"

Peter fell to the ground, a panic attack rippling through him. He rambled in gibberish. He felt he had lost his anchor to reality amid the fantasy and disorientation, Sigurd.

"I'm Lisso," said the human boy with a serious, relaxed expression.

Peter felt he had broke himself out of his trance, mouthing: "Hi, Lisso. It's a pleasure to have met you." He thought he had been speaking, his mind too much in disarray.

If a human could kill him at any time, what was he? A play doll, a dog waiting to be hunted. His mind desired a sense of control.

Accidentally, Peter shifted toward Lisso, along with his glowing, magical hands.

Lisso grabbed his hands and stopped him. "Peter, why don't you meet my friends Rodley and Frithen?"

Peter felt his split vision recombine, his split body recombine, and the split world recombine with him standing at the place where the crack had been, pleasantly surprised. "Alright."

Lisso smiled.

Peter covered his eyes, his palms becoming wet with tears.

Lisso's smile deepened.

"I'm Rodley," said a voice.

"Frithen here," said another voice, cackling softly.

Lisso's voice echoed softly, "Peter."

Peter nodded while covering his eyes. "Hi." His voice was soft.

Sigurd messaged Peter, "I strongly perceive an excessive inclination towards trust on your part."

Peter ignored Sigurd. "The adventurers did an excellent job with the decorations. What do you think of the ambiance?" He had used "ambiance" instead of "ambience" out of formal instinct.

Lisso was the first to answer, taking a considerate role toward Peter's strange question. "The adventurers do not do the decorations of course. But if we're talking about the kobolds, you're absolutely right. And I find the ambience here quite tawdry; although I can see why some might see it as a pleasure."

When Peter nodded thrice, Lisso took it as a gesture to keep speaking. "I also don't feel 'decorations' is the apt word. Rather than 'decorations,' I would use a 'depot of monster products and dungeon spoils.'"

Peter thought Lisso tended toward bickering.

"And—" Lisso cut himself off. "Rodley, how about you two?" He glanced at Rodley and Frithen.

Peter nodded helpfully, making Rodley open his mouth in thought.

The man with a long beard, Rodley said, "I think it looks nice. They built this place while I was doing generally clean on the map. Nothing too serious. Expecting them to refurnish once a year or so, but I'm not entirely accurate with my predictions so..." He drifted to a halt, biting his lip and gesturing at Frithen to speak next.

The man with a long, slovenly moustache and a small, puffy goatee, Frithen adopted a thinking pose. His muscles were clear through the depression line at the back of his left forearm. "Hello," he said to Peter. "I see now that you mean the plaza. I really am not sure about the history. I only came here an hour ago. I mean, this is my first time here. I like to keep to myself, hanging out with Ben at his mansion."

Ben sighed. "'Mansion,'" he said, preferring the term "home" instead.

Peter inferred that Ben sounded too casual after his abrupt, angry departure before during the reunion meeting.

When Peter looked around, he recognized one of the dholes and one of the goblins. He glanced at Ben, who had a bored and sad expression. He recognized that the dholes and goblins around them were laborers, servants, and soldiers under Ben.

Ben felt compelled to size Peter up and down out of respect, paying most of his attention to Peter's hands. If Peter moved his body in a way that endangered himself, he would use those under him to block Peter. He preferred that Peter stayed agreeable and amenable to guarantee that both he, Peter, and the goblin race would benefit.

Peter was rightly convinced that Ben was pondering about utilizing him to uplift the goblin race.

Rodley said, "Peter, I've heard about you. You came from dhole land. Where were you living before then?"

Peter waded through his head for a reasonable lie.

Meanwhile, Rodley chuckled when Lisso and Ben started competing over something called a "Grantula."

"I might have forgotten the details, but I remember coming here from a strange land. It was a far-away place, so I don't remember. I walked and walked for years, and I arrived on dhole land."

Rodley chuckled, cut himself off out of hesitation, and resumed his chuckle. "Oh, you mean that you came from Adala."

Peter almost nodded, but he said: "Adala. Good guess."

Rodley smiled, his brows furrowed. "Uh, okay."

Peter nodded thrice in a strange way, making Rodley laugh.

Rodley said: "Oh, you don't want to tell me. That's alright." His voice was friendly and casual.

Peter looked at Lisso, who was gesturing with his arms while talking to Ben with a smile.

Rodley joined in Lisso and Ben's conversation.

Peter observed them, glancing aside every once in a while to make sure his staring was modest.

Rodley clapped his knee, rubbing an itch and laughing at a joke.

Peter was focused on Rodley since Rodley had challenged him by asking about his origins, making him feel tense.

Lisso looked at Peter. 'Peter, it's alright. You can talk to us. We're discussing people we know who live in various locations, ranging from 2 to 16 hours away from here by foot."

Peter nodded. "How do you guys meet?"

Lisso smiled. "We arrange retreats and camps. It's fun."

Peter squinted, concealing his astonishment at the concept of camps and retreats in this different world. "That sounds fun." His voice was light like a floating balloon.

Peter was afraid that the humans would kill or torture him if he said: "I want to take a break. A lot of this has so many implications that I want to take the time to process and cope."

Peter wanted to leave, but the humans Lisso, Frithen, Ben, and Rodley were enthusiastically and loudly discussing.

A group of adventurers appeared from the entrance of the deeper dungeons. They passed through the plaza, avoiding the humans. They included the bard with whom Peter was familiar.

Peter watched the bard with mild confusion.

As the bard strolled down to the exit, Peter recognized that her shoulders were squared, her head was held high, and she exuded an air of resolute confidence. With each step, she moved with purpose, her stride matching the rhythm of her determined heartbeat.

The male adventurers beside her had a modest air around them despite their huge, bulky figures.

In reality, the bard and the male adventurers had the same social humility. Yet, the bard reminded Peter of his weakened nostalgic past when she turned him into a hawk and reverted him whimsically. This nostalgia attracted Peter to the bard because she served as a calming influence in his decision-making process, allowing him to rely on others to make choices for him and live his life in a more passive manner.

An intrusive thought flashed through his mind that the voice that saved him from the barrage of spells from the multitude of mages was the bard.

Peter reached out, but he felt trapped within the grasp of the humans.

Peter broke free.

"I killed someone," he told the bard.

The bard turned toward him.

"You did?" she said.

Peter nodded.

"Why?"

"I don't know anymore."

The goblin bard chuckled dismissively. "Really?"

Peter smiled, expecting her to give him a stranger's kind response, but he frowned, disappointed.

He left the plaza, seeing Ben and the humans staring at him.

Peter explored outside amid the rain. The powers of this rain were weak but ubiquitous.

He regained his magical powers.

The rain grew to reflect the storm.

Peter raged upon the streets of Zon.

He blasted five houses.

Three more houses fell.

Seven more houses fell.

The innocent fell.

Peter cried, his individualism creating the peace that he wanted, but for the collective, it was disaster.

The people cried out for the powers that be to craft peace.

Peter recognized that his rage was his magnum opus and his purpose in life and finally his peace-bringer. He grabbed a rock, pressing his lips together, as a look of shock colored his face.

In a realm where magic flowed like the very essence of life, a gathering of mages had assembled at the sacred grounds of Talah. Each mage, attuned to a different aspect of the arcane arts, carried within them the power to shape reality itself. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the landscape, they prepared to showcase their prowess.

"Ha, ain't that nice. Just a tiny bit of that. Let's go!"

"Ha, remember that sweet sound! We've only just begun!"

The first mage stepped forward, his hands outstretched and glowing with an ethereal light. With a focused mind and a whispered incantation, he cast the spell of Weapon. In an instant, a shimmering sword materialized in his grasp, its blade forged from pure arcane energy. The mage wielded it with grace and precision, the weapon leaving trails of mystical light as it sliced through the air. "Can you see! This is where my screams find their mark!"

"Go, go, go! We've only got so much time. Take this motherfucker down!"

Next came a mage adorned in a cloak of swirling shadows. Drawing upon the depths of their soul, they channeled the energies of darkness to conjure the spell of Soul Cloak. Their form became veiled in a shroud of obscurity, rendering them nearly invisible to prying eyes. The mage moved through the crowd undetected, their presence obscured by the ethereal cloak.

Another mage, with a radiant aura surrounding them, extended their hands towards a source of energy. With a deep inhalation, they absorbed the raw power, invoking the spell of Energy Absorption. The arcane currents surged into their being, fueling their own magic and strengthening their connection to the mystic forces.

As the demonstrations continued, one mage performed the spell of Illusory Shift. They waved their hands in intricate patterns, and the surroundings twisted and contorted. The very fabric of reality seemed to bend and fold upon itself, creating a mesmerizing display of illusions. The mage's audience found themselves questioning their own senses as the world around them shifted and changed.

In the midst of the illusions, another mage donned a suit of shimmering light. The spell of Illusionary Armor enveloped them, granting an ethereal shield of protection. The armor appeared as a mirage, constantly shifting and morphing to confuse and disorient any adversary. It shimmered with the hues of a thousand colors, evoking a sense of wonder and awe.

A moment later, two mages stepped forward, their souls intertwining in a delicate dance of magic. With hands clasped together, they cast the spell of Soul Bind. A radiant beam of light connected them, signifying their unbreakable bond. Their combined powers amplified, and they could share knowledge, thoughts, and even emotions with perfect clarity. It was a testament to the strength of their spiritual connection.

Amidst the gathering, a mage of unparalleled mastery emerged. Their very presence radiated an aura of ancient wisdom and immense power. They were the embodiment of Arcane Mastery itself. With a simple gesture, they harnessed the weave of magic, manipulating it effortlessly to their will. The mage's every action was an exhibition of arcane finesse, leaving the crowd in awe and admiration.

A mage with keen perception and an affinity for enchantments stepped forward, extending their hand toward an object. Their senses sharpened, and they cast the spell of Enchant Detection. A surge of magical energy flowed through them, revealing the hidden enchantments woven into the fabric of reality. They could discern the intricate spells and mystical properties imbued within any object, unraveling its secrets with a mere touch.

As the displays continued, a mage stood at the forefront, summoning a shimmering shield. The Guardian's Shield spell wove together strands of elemental energy, creating a formidable barrier. It crackled with power, repelling any hostile force that dared to breach its surface. The mage stood steadfast behind the shield, a beacon of protection for their allies.

Suddenly, the air crackled with anticipation as a mage conjured an Astral Wave. They lifted their arms, and the fabric of space rippled and surged like an otherworldly tide. The wave surged forward, disintegrating anything in its path, leaving behind an eerie calm in its wake. The mage's control over the astral forces was a sight to behold, evoking both fear and respect.

In the midst of the chaos, a mage stepped into a glowing circle inscribed with ancient symbols. They extended their hand, their fingertips dancing upon the edges of the circle. With a surge of power, they manipulated the very essence within, shifting its flow to their command. The spell of Essence Circle Manipulation allowed them to reshape and redirect the fundamental forces that governed the universe.

A convergence of elements followed, as a mage raised their staff to the sky. With a commanding voice, they called upon the spell of Elemental Convergence. The elements heeded their call, swirling around the mage in a cyclone of fire, water, earth, and air. The mage wielded the combined might of the elements, bending them to their whim and unleashing their devastating power upon their foes.

A mage, deep in contemplation, cast the spell of Mind Barrier. They closed their eyes and focused their thoughts, creating an invisible shield around their mind. Intrusive influences and mental assaults were deflected, leaving their consciousness untouched by external forces. It was a testament to the mage's mastery over the inner realms of the psyche.

A surge of raw energy erupted from another mage's hands as they channeled the spell of Soulfire. The flames burned with an ethereal intensity, fueled by the essence of the mage's own soul. The Soulfire danced and flickered, consuming darkness and purifying all it touched. The mage stood amidst the blaze, unharmed and empowered by the potent force they had unleashed.

Meanwhile, a mage melded seamlessly with the shadows, blending into the very fabric of darkness itself. The spell of Shadowmeld rendered them invisible to the naked eye, as if they were a phantom passing through the mortal realm. The mage moved with grace and stealth, traversing through the shadows with an otherworldly fluidity.

The elements roared once more as a mage invoked the spell of Elemental Storm. With outstretched arms, they commanded the heavens, summoning a cataclysmic tempest of fire, lightning, wind, and water. The storm raged with uncontrollable fury, unleashing its devastating might upon the land. The mage stood at the center, untouched by the elemental chaos they had conjured.

Amidst the destruction, a mage reached out to heal the wounded and restore balance. They invoked the spell of Elemental Restoration, harnessing the revitalizing energies of the elements. Their touch brought soothing relief, mending broken bodies and rejuvenating weary spirits. It was a testament to the mage's connection to the healing powers of nature itself.

As the mages continued their demonstrations, a powerful incantation filled the air. The spell of Banishing Army was invoked, and ethereal soldiers materialized, ready for battle. Clad in shimmering armor, armed with spectral weapons, the army marched forward with unwavering resolve. Their purpose was clear—to banish any foe that threatened the realm.

In the midst of the chaos, a mage summoned a protective barrier of pure energy. The spell of Energy Ward enveloped them, creating an impenetrable shield against hostile forces. The mage stood resolute behind the shimmering wall, their determination unwavering as they held back the tides of darkness.

A mage stepped onto the threshold of reality itself, casting the spell of Illusionary Rift. With a flick of their wrist, they tore open a portal to an illusory realm, a place of shifting shadows and surreal landscapes. Through the rift, they could manipulate the very fabric of perception, creating illusions that deceived the senses and confounded the mind.

Radiant light emanated from another mage, as they invoked the spell of Essence Radiance. Their body became suffused with a brilliant glow, illuminating the surrounding area. The radiant energy exuded a soothing aura, bringing hope and warmth to all who beheld it. The mage's presence was a beacon of solace and enlightenment.

A sudden burst of energy erupted from the ground beneath a mage's feet. They cast the spell of Summon Burst, drawing upon the forces of the arcane to summon forth a surge of power. The burst of energy crackled and surged, swirling around the mage in a display of raw magical might. It was a testament to their ability to channel and command the very essence of magic itself.

Chapter 26
Amidst the chaos, a mage reached out to mend the wounds of the spirits. They invoked the spell of Spirit Rejuvenation, weaving their magic to restore vitality to ethereal beings. The spirits shimmered with renewed energy, their essence revitalized by the mage's healing touch. It was a display of compassion and empathy for the intangible souls that dwelled beyond the mortal realm.

In the midst of the tumult, a mage invoked the spell of Banishing Severance. They extended their hand towards a target, and a surge of arcane energy lashed out, severing the ties that bound them. It was a spell of liberation, breaking the chains of enchantments or curses that held an individual captive. The mage's power over banishment was a force to be reckoned with.

A mage focused their will and channeled their magic into the creation of an arcane construct. With intricate gestures and incantations, they shaped raw energy into a formidable being. The construct stood before them, a guardian of their will and an embodiment of their arcane prowess. It obeyed their commands without question, ready to defend its creator at all costs.

In the midst of the demonstrations, a mage summoned a projection of pure energy. The spell of Summon Projection allowed them to manifest a spectral double, a perfect replica of themselves. The projection mirrored their every movement and action, serving as a decoy or an extension of their power. The mage's mastery over projection blurred the lines between reality and illusion.

Another mage reached out to touch the elements themselves. With a single caress, they invoked the spell of Elemental Touch, forging a deep connection with fire, water, earth, or air. The elements responded to their command, surging forth in a display of raw power. The mage's touch became a conduit for elemental might, and they wielded the forces of nature with ease.

Time seemed to bend at the behest of another mage as they cast the spell of Time Drain. With an outstretched hand, they drew upon the temporal energies, siphoning away moments from the flow of time itself. The world around them appeared to slow, as if caught in a temporal vortex. The mage's mastery over time manipulation was awe-inspiring, granting them a glimpse into the very fabric of existence.

A mage with a swift and agile demeanor invoked the spell of Force Shift. With a sudden burst of kinetic energy, they propelled themselves forward, shifting their position in an instant. They moved with such speed and grace that it seemed as if they defied the laws of physics. The mage's forceful movements left their opponents bewildered and off-balance.

In the midst of the illusions, a mage cast the spell of Illusionary Veil. They gestured with outstretched arms, and an ethereal mist enveloped them, distorting their form and obscuring their presence. It was as if they had become one with the illusions themselves, blending seamlessly into the fabric of the illusory realm. The mage's mastery over illusion made them an enigma, impossible to track or detect.

A surge of potent energy enveloped another mage as they channeled the spell of Energy Empowerment. The raw magical energy surged through their veins, invigorating their body and mind. Their power intensified, and their spells became even more formidable, crackling with an amplified force. The mage's mastery over energy manipulation was palpable, and they radiated with an aura of unstoppable might.

The boundaries of space seemed to warp and shift around a mage as they cast the spell of Dimensional Embrace. They reached out with open palms, and the fabric of reality rippled and folded, forming a gateway into the unknown. The mage stepped through the dimensional portal, disappearing from sight as they traversed the vastness of the multiverse. Their ability to traverse dimensions was a testament to their mastery over the arcane arts.

In a blinding flash of light, another mage invoked the spell of Disintegration. They focused their will, and a concentrated beam of pure energy erupted from their fingertips. The beam lanced through the air, obliterating anything it touched, reducing matter to its elemental components. The mage's power over destruction was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

A charm, adorned with intricate symbols and imbued with arcane energy, floated before a mage. They invoked the spell of Charm of Burst, activating the charm's enchantment. In an explosion of magical energy, the charm burst into a shower of shimmering sparks, releasing a wave of mystical force that buffeted their surroundings. The mage's command over enchanted objects was a testament to their deep understanding of magical craftsmanship.

Another mage moved with ethereal grace, invoking the spell of Essence Walk. With each step, their feet barely touched the ground, as if they were walking upon the very essence of magic itself. The mage traversed the world effortlessly, leaving behind trails of arcane energy in their wake. Their mastery over movement transcended the physical, becoming a manifestation of pure essence.

The elements obeyed the command of a mage as they cast the spell of Elemental Surge. They raised their hands, and a surge of elemental energy swirled around them, growing in intensity. The air crackled with electricity, the ground trembled with the might of the earth, and flames danced upon their fingertips. The mage stood at the epicenter of an elemental maelstrom, harnessing its destructive power.

A mage stepped into the realm of the astral plane, their mind attuned to the mysteries of the cosmos. They cast the spell of Astral Mastery, their consciousness expanding beyond the confines of their physical form. They perceived the vast tapestry of the astral realm, understanding the ebb and flow of celestial energies. The mage's mastery over astral forces was a testament to their enlightenment and transcendence.

The enchantment of objects called to another mage, as they cast the spell of Enchant Elemental. With intricate gestures and a whispered incantation, they channeled their magic into an object, imbuing it with the elemental essence. The object crackled with newfound power, its properties transformed by the mage's mastery over the elements. It became a conduit for elemental forces, capable of unleashing their might upon command.

A mage focused their senses on the flow of time, invoking the spell of Time Detection. Their perception expanded, allowing them to discern the subtle currents of temporal energy. They could sense the ebb and flow of time, detecting anomalies and disruptions in the temporal fabric. The mage's ability to read the threads of time itself was a testament to their profound connection with the flow of existence.

A surge of arcane energy erupted from a mage's hand as they cast the spell of Guardian's Blast. The energy coalesced into a concentrated beam, hurtling towards their target with unerring accuracy. The blast struck with concussive force, unleashing a wave of destructive power. The mage's guardian-like prowess was evident in their devastating attack.

Ice crystals formed in the air as another mage invoked the spell of Ice Wipe. They gestured with a flick of their wrist, and a frigid gust of wind swept through the area. The temperature plummeted, and the moisture in the air crystallized, coating everything in a thick layer of ice. The mage's control over the element of ice was chilling to behold.

A mage extended their hand towards a target, invoking the spell of Time Touch. A ripple of temporal energy spread from their fingertips, freezing a specific moment in time. The target became trapped in a temporal stasis, suspended in a single instant. The mage's manipulation of time allowed them to exert control over the very flow of existence.

With a whispered incantation, another mage cast the spell of Teleportation. They vanished from their current location in a blur of motion, only to reappear moments later at a distant point. Their mastery over spatial manipulation allowed them to traverse great distances in an instant, defying the limitations of physical travel. The mage's ability to teleport was a testament to their command over space itself.

A mage whispered an incantation, invoking the spell of Invisibility. A shimmering veil enveloped them, rendering them invisible to the naked eye. They became a phantom, blending seamlessly into their surroundings, unseen and unnoticed. The mage moved with stealth and precision, their presence elusive and mysterious.

A mage focused their will and channeled their magic into the spell of Levitation. They rose from the ground, defying gravity, and floated serenely in the air. Their body became untethered, moving with grace and ease through the three-dimensional realm. The mage's mastery over levitation allowed them to navigate the world from a unique perspective.

The chaotic energy in the air surged as another mage cast the spell of Summon Disruption. They channeled the forces of entropy and disorder, summoning a vortex of disruptive energy. The vortex spun and twisted, tearing at the fabric of reality, unraveling spells and enchantments. The mage's command over disruption was a testament to their ability to sow chaos and disorder.

A mage vanished from sight, merging seamlessly with the shadows. They invoked the spell of Shadowstep, utilizing the dark corners of the world as their own personal gateway. With a flicker of movement, they reappeared in a new location, leaving behind only a fading trail of darkness. The mage's mastery over shadows allowed them to traverse great distances without being detected.

The elements responded to the will of a mage as they cast the spell of Elemental Manipulation. With a sweeping motion of their hand, they commanded the elemental forces to their bidding. Flames danced upon their fingertips, water coalesced into shimmering orbs, and gusts of wind obeyed their every gesture. The mage's control over the elements was absolute, shaping and directing their power with precision.

A surge of elemental energy erupted from another mage's hands as they cast the spell of Elemental Discharge. The energy arced and crackled, manifesting between bolts of lightning, jets of flame, and cascades of water. The mage directed the elemental onslaught towards their target, overwhelming them with the raw power of nature. The mage's ability to unleash elemental forces in such a devastating manner was awe-inspiring.

The spirits stirred in response to a mage's call as they cast the spell of Spirit Manipulation. Ethereal forms materialized around them, heeding their command. The spirits moved at their behest, lending their power to the mage's will. Whether as allies or as tools of destruction, the mage's control over spirits was both profound and enigmatic.

A mage's surroundings morphed and shifted as they cast the spell of Shadow Terrain. They reached out with their magic, manipulating the shadows and melding them with the physical world. The shadows grew tangible, forming solid ground and concealing obstacles. The mage's ability to reshape the environment to their advantage was a testament to their mastery over the shadowy realm.

A mage stood at the convergence point of multiple energies, invoking the spell of Energy Convergence. They extended their arms, and streams of elemental energy spiraled around them, intertwining in a mesmerizing dance. The energies merged and fused, amplifying each other's power. The mage stood as the epicenter of a tempest of raw energy, harnessing its might to devastating effect.

A mage focused their mind, creating a barrier of pure thought. They cast the spell of Mind Manipulation, extending their consciousness into the minds of others. With a mere thought, they influenced the thoughts and perceptions of their targets, manipulating their emotions or implanting suggestions. The mage's command over the realm of the mind was a testament to their mental prowess.

A mage conjured flames that burned with an ethereal glow. They invoked the spell of Soul Mirage, creating illusory flames that danced and flickered, casting an otherworldly light. The flames held an enchanting allure, captivating the senses and playing tricks on perception. The mage's mastery over soulfire was both mesmerizing and deceptive.

A surge of arcane energy erupted from a mage as they cast the spell of Banishment. They focused their will, directing the energy towards a target. The energy enveloped the target, tearing at their essence and banishing them to another plane of existence. The mage's power over banishment was a force to be reckoned with, capable of expelling even the most formidable foes.

The very form of a mage shifted and transformed as they cast the spell of Transformation. With a surge of magic, their appearance altered, adopting the features of another being or creature. The transformation was flawless, allowing them to blend seamlessly into their new guise. The mage's mastery over shape-shifting was a testament to their versatility and adaptability.

A mage invoked the spell of Astral of Link, forging a connection between themselves and another entity. Threads of astral energy entwined, creating a metaphysical bond that transcended the physical realm. Through this link, the mage could perceive the thoughts, emotions, or sensations of their target, forging a deep empathic connection. The mage's ability to establish an astral link was a testament to their profound understanding of the metaphysical realm.

The strands of time unfurled before another mage as they cast the spell of Time Reading. They focused their gaze upon an object or individual, peering into the tapestry of time that surrounded them. Visions of the past and glimpses of the future flickered through their mind, revealing hidden truths and potential outcomes. The mage's ability to read the threads of time itself was a profound insight into the mysteries of fate.

A mage closed their eyes, attuning their vision to the astral plane. With their inner sight, they cast the spell of Astral Sight, perceiving the ethereal realm that lay beyond mortal perception. They could see the shimmering threads of astral energy that connected all things, and the presence of beings that dwelled in the astral plane. The mage's astral sight granted them insight and understanding beyond the confines of the physical world.

An eruption of raw arcane power surged from a mage as they cast the spell of Guardian's Fury. Their body became infused with energy, crackling with unbridled force. They moved with enhanced speed and strength, their attacks becoming a whirlwind of destruction. The mage's fury was akin to that of a celestial guardian, protecting and annihilating with equal ferocity.

A mage shifted through the fabric of reality, invoking the spell of Arcane Shift. They vanished from their current location, only to reappear moments later in a different place. Their movement was accompanied by a shimmering distortion, a visual manifestation of their arcane displacement. The mage's ability to shift through space and time was a testament to their mastery over the arcane forces.

A mage channeled their magic into a bolt of elemental energy, invoking the spell of Elemental Bolt. The bolt crackled and surged with elemental power as it hurtled towards its target. It struck with explosive force, unleashing the elemental fury contained within. The mage's command over elemental bolts was a testament to their precision and control.

A mage extended their hands, emanating a soothing aura of healing energy. They invoked the spell of Healing Veil, creating a radiant barrier of restorative magic. The barrier enveloped those within its embrace, mending wounds, and revitalizing weary souls. The mage's healing abilities were a testament to their compassion and their mastery over the curative arts.

A mage pointed their finger towards a target, casting the spell of Petrification. A wave of transformative magic surged forth, encasing the target in a layer of stone or crystal. They became immobile, their form frozen in time. The mage's ability to petrify was a testament to their command over transmutation, turning their adversaries into statues of their own demise.

The very fabric of nature trembled in the presence of another mage as they cast the spell of Nature's Shatter. They channeled the raw forces of nature, unleashing a wave of destructive energy. The earth quaked, trees splintered, and the air crackled with untamed power. The mage's command over nature's destructive potential was a testament to their affinity with the primal forces of the world.

A mage embraced the arcane energies that surrounded them, invoking the spell of Arcane Embrace. Their body shimmered with arcane light, as if they had become one with the very essence of magic itself. The mage's connection to the arcane realm intensified, granting them heightened magical abilities and insight. Their embrace of the arcane was a testament to their devotion to the study and mastery of magic.

A surge of necrotic energy emanated from a mage as they cast the spell of Necrotic Surge. They tapped into the forces of decay and death, channeling them with dark intent. The energy sapped the life force from their surroundings, draining vitality and leaving behind a withered and lifeless landscape. The mage's command over necrotic power was both eerie and formidable.

A mage vanished from sight, only to reappear in a different location. They invoked the spell of Guardian's Warp, utilizing their mastery over space and time to protect and defend. With each warp, they left behind a residual barrier of energy, shielding their allies from harm. The mage's ability to warp reality itself was a testament to their role as a guardian, keeping those under their protection safe.

A surge of arcane energy erupted from a mage's hands as they cast the spell of Astral Severance. The energy coalesced into a concentrated beam, cutting through the astral plane with razor-sharp precision. It severed connections and disrupted the fabric of the metaphysical realm. The mage's astral severance was a testament to their ability to rend and sunder the intangible.

Reality itself became malleable in the hands of a mage as they cast the spell of Arcane Warp. They focused their will, warping the very fabric of existence. Space folded, time twisted, and the laws of reality bent to their command. The mage's mastery over reality-warping was a testament to their understanding and manipulation of the fundamental principles that governed the universe.

A mage called upon the forces of death and decay, invoking the spell of Elemental Death. They channeled necrotic energy into elemental forms, imbuing them with a lethal touch. Their attacks became imbued with the power to disintegrate and decay, obliterating all that they touched. The mage's mastery over the convergence of death and elemental forces was a testament to their command over the cycle of life and death.

Chapter 27
A mage's senses heightened as they cast the spell of Detect Binding. They attuned themselves to the subtle energies that bound objects or individuals together. Threads of magical energy became visible to their perceptive gaze, revealing the nature and strength of various bindings. The mage's ability to detect bindings was a testament to their meticulous attention to detail and their mastery of magical perception.

The boundaries of reality blurred as another mage cast the spell of Dimensional Travel. They reached out with their magic, tearing open a rift in the fabric of space. Through the rift, they stepped into the embrace of a different dimension, traversing realms beyond mortal understanding. The mage's ability to traverse dimensions was a testament to their exploration of the infinite possibilities of existence.

A mage conjured a shimmering aura of renewal, invoking the spell of Illusionary Renewal. The aura enveloped their allies, infusing them with revitalizing energy. Wounds closed, exhaustion lifted, and vitality was restored. The mage's illusionary renewal was a testament to their ability to manipulate perception and grant the gift of rejuvenation.

A mage extended their hands, channeling their magic into the spell of Arcane Field. They created a pulsating field of arcane energy, a barrier that repelled and absorbed incoming attacks. The field crackled with power, deflecting projectiles and neutralizing magical assaults. The mage's control over the arcane field was a testament to their mastery of defensive magic.

A mage called upon the forces of summoning, invoking the spell of Summon Restoration. They channeled their magic to summon a restorative entity or spirit. The entity materialized, radiating healing energy that revitalized and cured ailments. The mage's ability to summon restoration was a testament to their connection with benevolent forces beyond the mortal realm.

A mage conjured a burst of banishing energy, invoking the spell of Banishing Burst. They directed the energy towards a target, overwhelming them with a wave of force. The energy sought to unravel and expel any supernatural or magical influences, banishing them from existence. The mage's banishing burst was a testament to their ability to cleanse and purify the world around them.

A mage projected their essence into the astral realm, invoking the spell of Essence Projection. Their physical body faded away as their astral form materialized in the metaphysical realm. Freed from the constraints of the physical, they traversed the astral plane, exploring its mysteries and interacting with its denizens. The mage's ability to project their essence was a testament to their understanding and manipulation of the ethereal realm.

A surge of elemental energy surged through a mage's fingertips as they cast the spell of Elemental Touch. They reached out and touched an object or individual, infusing them with the power of a specific element. Flames enveloped, water soothed, or electricity surged as the mage's touch bestowed the essence of the chosen element. The mage's elemental touch was a testament to their ability to imbue the world with the power of nature.

A mage extended their hand, palm outstretched, invoking the spell of Time Drain. They focused their magic, drawing upon the flow of time itself. The target's movements slowed, their vitality drained away, and their actions became sluggish and laborious. The mage's ability to drain time was a testament to their control over the temporal forces that governed the world.

A mage shifted their form, invoking the spell of Force Shift. Their body rippled and transformed, becoming intangible and resistant to physical harm. Attacks passed harmlessly through their ephemeral form as they evaded and maneuvered with grace and agility. The mage's force shift was a testament to their mastery of manipulating their own physicality for defensive purposes.

A mage wove illusions with intricate skill, invoking the spell of Illusionary Veil. They cast an illusionary cloak that shrouded them in ethereal mists, concealing their presence and distorting their appearance. They became elusive and elusive, impossible to track or detect through conventional means. The mage's illusionary veil was a testament to their expertise in weaving illusions that fooled even the keenest of senses.

A surge of energy enveloped a mage as they cast the spell of Energy Empowerment. They tapped into the ambient energy of their surroundings, absorbing it and allowing it to flow through their being. Their own magical abilities intensified, fueled by the power coursing within them. The mage's energy empowerment was a testament to their ability to harness and wield the raw energies of the world.

A mage extended their hands, invoking the spell of Dimensional Embrace. They created a rift in the fabric of space, summoning the energies of different dimensions. The energies intertwined and merged, forming a protective barrier that deflected attacks and shielded the mage and their allies. The mage's dimensional embrace was a testament to their ability to manipulate and harmonize the diverse forces of the multiverse.

A surge of arcane energy erupted from a mage as they cast the spell of Disintegration. They directed the energy towards a target, causing it to unravel and disintegrate at a molecular level. The target crumbled into dust, reduced to nothing more than scattered remnants. The mage's power over disintegration was a testament to their control over the destructive forces of magic.

A mage chanted an incantation of enchantment, invoking the spell of Charm of Burst. They infused an object or individual with a burst of enchanting energy. The charm emanated a captivating aura, enhancing the charisma and charm of the bearer. Their words became persuasive, their presence charismatic, and their actions captivating. The mage's charm of burst was a testament to their ability to weave enchantments that bewitched and beguiled.

A mage stepped into the essence of another plane, invoking the spell of Essence Walk. They traversed the boundaries between realms, their form partially incorporeal and intertwined with the essence of the chosen plane. They moved with ethereal grace, perceiving the world through the lens of the plane they walked. The mage's essence walk was a testament to their connection with otherworldly realms.

A mage summoned the chaotic forces of the elements, invoking the spell of Elemental Surge. They channeled the raw power of fire, water, earth, or air, unleashing a devastating surge of elemental energy. Flames engulfed, torrents raged, earth trembled, or winds howled as the mage's elemental surge wrought destruction upon their foes. The mage's command over the elements was a testament to their ability to harness the primal forces of nature.

A mage reached out to the astral realm, invoking the spell of Astral Mastery. They became attuned to the metaphysical realm, drawing upon its energies to enhance their own magical abilities. Their spells became more potent, their perception heightened, and their connection to the astral plane deepened. The mage's astral mastery was a testament to their understanding and manipulation of the astral realm.

A mage focused their attention on an elemental entity, invoking the spell of Enchant Elemental. They formed a mystical bond with the elemental, enhancing its power and imbuing it with additional magical qualities. The elemental crackled with newfound energy, its attacks becoming more devastating and its abilities augmented. The mage's enchantment of elementals was a testament to their ability to harmonize with and influence the elemental forces of the world.

A surge of arcane energy radiated from a mage's being as they cast the spell of Time Detection. They attuned themselves to the flow of time, perceiving its currents and fluctuations. They could sense disturbances, temporal anomalies, and even glimpse glimpses of possible futures. The mage's time detection was a testament to their mastery over the intricate weave of time itself.

A mage conjured a blast of raw energy, invoking the spell of Guardian's Blast. They channeled their magical power into a concentrated beam of pure force. The blast tore through obstacles, repelled enemies, and protected the mage and their allies from harm. The mage's guardian's blast was a testament to their role as a protector, wielding their magic as a shield and a weapon.

A mage summoned a chilling blizzard of ice and snow, invoking the spell of Ice Wipe. The temperature plummeted, and a freezing gale swept through the area. Ice crystals formed and grew, coating surfaces with a thick layer of frost. The mage's control over ice and cold was a testament to their affinity with the wintry forces of nature.

A mage extended their hand, fingertips crackling with arcane energy, invoking the spell of Time Touch. They made contact with an object or individual, infusing it with a temporary alteration of time. The object aged or decayed, or the individual's movements slowed or quickened, as the mage manipulated the flow of time around them. The mage's time touch was a testament to their ability to bend the temporal fabric at will.

A mage vanished from sight, invoking the spell of Teleportation. They dissolved into ephemeral particles, only to reappear moments later in a different location. Their form materialized with a soft pop, leaving no trace of their passage. The mage's teleportation was a testament to their ability to traverse vast distances in an instant.

A mage immersed themselves in the shadows, invoking the spell of Invisibility. They became one with the darkness, their presence hidden from prying eyes. Their silhouette wavered and distorted, blending seamlessly with the surrounding shadows. The mage's invisibility was a testament to their mastery of stealth and deception.

A mage defied gravity, invoking the spell of Levitation. They floated a few inches above the ground, their movements light and ethereal. They navigated obstacles with ease, bypassing traps and pitfalls with their effortless hover. The mage's levitation was a testament to their command over the forces that governed gravity.

A surge of disruptive energy erupted as a mage cast the spell of Summon Disruption. They called forth chaotic energies, creating a swirling vortex of arcane disturbance. The vortex warped and distorted reality, disrupting spells, breaking enchantments, and unsettling the very fabric of the world. The mage's summon disruption was a testament to their ability to harness the chaotic forces of magic.

A mage melded with the shadows, invoking the spell of Shadowstep. They vanished into a pool of darkness, only to reappear elsewhere in a shroud of shadowy mist. Their movements became fluid and elusive, allowing them to traverse great distances in the blink of an eye. The mage's shadowstep was a testament to their affinity with the realm of shadows and their mastery of stealthy maneuvering.

A mage exerted their will over the elements, invoking the spell of Elemental Manipulation. They commanded the primal forces of fire, water, earth, and air, shaping them to their whims. Flames danced, waves surged, rocks levitated, and gusts of wind swirled at their command. The mage's elemental manipulation was a testament to their ability to harness and control the building blocks of the natural world.

A surge of elemental energy surged from a mage's fingertips as they cast the spell of Elemental Discharge. They directed a focused stream of elemental power towards a target, obliterating it with the sheer force of their elemental might. Flames engulfed, water surged, rocks pulverized, or winds tore through as the mage's elemental discharge unleashed devastation upon their foes. The mage's command over the elements was a testament to their ability to wield the destructive forces of nature.

A mage reached out to the realm of spirits, invoking the spell of Spirit Manipulation. They forged a connection with the ethereal beings, influencing their actions and commands. Spirits swirled and coalesced, heeding the mage's will and carrying out their bidding. The mage's spirit manipulation was a testament to their communion with the spirit realm and their ability to harness the powers of the otherworldly.

A mage merged with the shadows and the terrain, invoking the spell of Shadow Terrain. They blended seamlessly with the darkness around them, becoming one with the environment. Their form became elusive and difficult to detect, even by magical means. The mage's shadow terrain was a testament to their mastery of camouflage and their affinity with the realm of shadows.

A surge of energy converged around a mage as they cast the spell of Energy Convergence. They drew upon the ambient energy of their surroundings, gathering and focusing it into a concentrated point. The energy swirled and crackled, growing more potent with each passing moment. The mage's energy convergence was a testament to their ability to harness and amplify the raw energies of the world.

A mage delved into the depths of the mind, invoking the spell of Mind Manipulation. They influenced the thoughts, emotions, and perceptions of others, bending their will to their own. Minds became malleable, memories altered, and desires manipulated as the mage's magic took hold. The mage's mind manipulation was a testament to their mastery of the intricacies of the human mind.

A mage summoned the power of the soul, invoking the spell of Soul Mirage. They projected a phantasmal image or illusion, shaped from the essence of souls. The mirage danced and shimmered, captivating the senses and deceiving the perception of those who beheld it. The mage's soul mirage was a testament to their understanding of the ethereal nature of the soul and their ability to manifest its essence.

A surge of energy radiated from a mage as they cast the spell of Banishment. They directed a focused burst of power towards a target, severing their connection to the mortal realm. The target was banished, forcibly removed from existence and cast into a realm beyond mortal comprehension. The mage's banishment was a testament to their ability to cast out and exile those who threatened the natural order.

A mage underwent a profound transformation, invoking the spell of Transformation. Their form shifted and morphed, taking on the characteristics of a different creature or entity. Their appearance, abilities, and even their essence changed as they assumed a new identity. The mage's transformation was a testament to their ability to reshape their own being and embrace different aspects of existence.

A mage formed a spiritual bond, invoking the spell of Astral of Link. They established a connection with another being, allowing them to share thoughts, emotions, and even magical energy. Their minds intertwined, forging a bridge between their souls. The mage's astral of link was a testament to their ability to forge deep connections and establish profound empathic bonds.

A mage delved into the currents of time, invoking the spell of Time Reading. They attuned their senses to the temporal flow, perceiving echoes of the past and glimpses of possible futures. They read the threads of destiny, unraveling the mysteries of time itself. The mage's time reading was a testament to their mastery over the enigmatic forces that governed the progression of events.

A mage's perception expanded into the astral realm, invoking the spell of Astral Sight. They opened their third eye, enabling them to perceive the astral plane and its inhabitants. They saw the shimmering energies and ethereal beings that eluded ordinary vision. The mage's astral sight was a testament to their attunement with the metaphysical realm.

A surge of arcane power surged through a mage as they cast the spell of Guardian's Fury. They channeled their magical energy into a devastating onslaught, unleashing a barrage of spells and attacks upon their enemies. Lightning crackled, flames erupted, rocks flew, and gusts of wind buffeted their foes. The mage's guardian's fury was a testament to their ferocity and determination in the face of adversity.

A mage swiftly shifted their position, invoking the spell of Arcane Shift. They disappeared from one location and reappeared in another, seamlessly transitioning between spaces in an instant. Their movements were accompanied by a flash of arcane energy, leaving opponents bewildered and disoriented. The mage's arcane shift was a testament to their mastery of spatial manipulation and their ability to traverse vast distances with ease.

A mage unleashed a powerful bolt of elemental energy, invoking the spell of Elemental Bolt. They conjured the raw power of fire, water, earth, or air, shaping it into a concentrated projectile. The bolt streaked through the air, leaving devastation in its wake as it struck its target with elemental force. The mage's elemental bolt was a testament to their command over the destructive potential of the elements.

A mage extended their hands, palms glowing with restorative energy, invoking the spell of Healing Veil. They channeled the essence of life itself, mending wounds, and revitalizing the weary. Their touch radiated warmth and comfort, offering solace and rejuvenation to those in need. The mage's healing veil was a testament to their compassion and mastery of curative magic.

A surge of arcane energy emanated from a mage as they cast the spell of Petrification. They directed their magic towards a target, turning their flesh to stone. The target's movements ceased, their body frozen in a state of immobility. The mage's petrification was a testament to their ability to control the very essence of life and render their enemies powerless.

A mage invoked the forces of nature, invoking the spell of Nature's Shatter. They ruptured the earth beneath their foes, summoning forth seismic energy. The ground quaked, cracks formed, and the very foundations trembled as the mage's magic shattered the natural equilibrium. The mage's control over the forces of nature was a testament to their connection with the primal energies that shaped the world.

A mage embraced the arcane energies that surrounded them, invoking the spell of Arcane Embrace. They infused their being with raw magical power, their form crackling with arcane energy. The mage's arcane embrace was a testament to their ability to attune themselves to the fundamental forces of magic.

Chapter 28
A mage assumed a new form, invoking the spell of Shapeshift. Their body shifted and transformed, taking on the characteristics of a different creature or entity. Their appearance, abilities, and even their essence changed as they assumed a new identity. The mage's shapeshift was a testament to their mastery of transformative magic and their ability to adapt to different situations.

A surge of necrotic energy emanated from a mage as they cast the spell of Necrotic Surge. They tapped into the dark forces of death and decay, channeling their power to afflict their enemies with necrotic afflictions. Life withered, strength waned, and vitality drained away as the mage's magic sapped the life force of their foes. The mage's necrotic surge was a testament to their command over the macabre and their willingness to wield the powers of darkness.

A mage warped the fabric of reality, invoking the spell of Guardian's Warp. They created a localized distortion, altering the laws of physics within a limited area. Space bent, time slowed, and the rules of the world became malleable under their command. The mage's guardian's warp was a testament to their ability to shape reality itself in defense of their allies.

A surge of astral energy radiated from a mage as they cast the spell of Astral Severance. They severed the astral connection between two entities, rending their spiritual bond. The link between minds, souls, or spirits was severed, leaving both entities disconnected and vulnerable. The mage's astral severance was a testament to their ability to manipulate the metaphysical ties that bind beings together.

A mage invoked the powers of the arcane, invoking the spell of Arcane Warp. They bent space and time, creating a rift in reality through which they traversed. The fabric of the world twisted and distorted as the mage's magic propelled them through the arcane portal. The mage's arcane warp was a testament to their command over the fundamental forces that governed the universe.

A surge of raw elemental energy surged from a mage's fingertips as they cast the spell of Elemental Death. They channeled the destructive forces of fire, water, earth, or air, combining them into a cataclysmic explosion. Flames roared, waves crashed, rocks shattered, and winds howled as the mage's elemental death consumed their enemies in a devastating conflagration. The mage's command over the elements was a testament to their ability to unleash unparalleled destruction.

A mage focused their attention on the bindings that restrained a target, invoking the spell of Detect Binding. They perceived the ethereal threads that held an individual or object captive. The bindings revealed themselves, their nature and origin laid bare to the mage's discerning gaze. The mage's detect binding was a testament to their ability to perceive and analyze the hidden restraints that limited freedom.

A mage extended their consciousness beyond the confines of reality, invoking the spell of Dimensional Travel. They transcended the boundaries of space and traversed the vast expanse of alternate dimensions. The mage's form became ephemeral, transitioning between planes of existence with ease. The mage's dimensional travel was a testament to their mastery over the cosmic tapestry that wove together different realms.

A surge of arcane energy enveloped a mage as they cast the spell of Illusionary Renewal. They wove intricate illusions, reshaping the perception of reality. Illusions shimmered and coalesced, altering the environment or disguising their true form. The mage's illusionary renewal was a testament to their ability to manipulate perception and create vivid illusions.

A mage created an arcane field, invoking the spell of Arcane Field. They generated a localized zone saturated with arcane energy. The field disrupted magic, weakened enchantments, and shielded the mage and their allies from magical harm. The mage's arcane field was a testament to their mastery of protective magic and their ability to shape the very nature of the magical forces around them.

A mage summoned restorative energies, invoking the spell of Summon Restoration. They called forth healing energies from the natural world, mending wounds and revitalizing life. The energies swirled and coalesced, radiating warmth and comfort as they restored the health and well-being of the mage and their allies. The mage's summon restoration was a testament to their connection with the rejuvenating powers of nature.

A surge of banishing energy emanated from a mage as they cast the spell of Banishing Burst. They unleashed a powerful burst of energy that disrupted and banished malevolent entities. The burst tore through the fabric of reality, severing the connection between the target and their source of power. The mage's banishing burst was a testament to their ability to cast out and repel forces that threatened the balance of existence.

A mage projected their essence into the astral realm, invoking the spell of Essence Projection. Their physical form became ethereal, while their astral essence traversed the metaphysical planes. The mage's consciousness traveled beyond the confines of the mortal realm, exploring the vast expanse of the astral plane. The mage's essence projection was a testament to their mastery of astral travel and their connection with the higher realms of existence.

A surge of energy enveloped a mage as they cast the spell of Banishing Person. They directed a focused burst of power towards an individual, severing their connection to the mortal realm. The target was banished, forcibly removed from existence and cast into a realm beyond mortal comprehension. The mage's banishing person was a testament to their ability to cast out and exile specific individuals who threatened the natural order.

A mage channeled restorative energies, invoking the spell of Restoration. They tapped into the life-giving forces of nature, mending injuries and revitalizing vitality. Their touch radiated healing power, offering solace and rejuvenation to those in need. The mage's restoration was a testament to their compassion and mastery of curative magic.

A mage harnessed the collective thoughts and desires of spirits, invoking the spell of Mind Nova. They channeled the combined mental energies of ethereal beings, unleashing a psychic explosion. Minds quivered, thoughts scattered, and sanity teetered on the brink as the mage's mind nova overwhelmed the consciousness of their enemies. The mage's mind nova was a testament to their command over the ethereal realm and their ability to harness the collective powers of spirits.

A mage communed with the spirits of the deceased, invoking the spell of Spirit Thoughts. They connected with the ethereal realm, seeking counsel and guidance from departed souls. The spirits whispered their wisdom, their voices carried on the winds of the afterlife. The mage's spirit thoughts were a testament to their ability to communicate with the spirits and draw upon their collective knowledge.

A surge of burning energy erupted from a mage's hands as they cast the spell of Burning Bolt. They conjured a searing projectile of flames, launching it towards their target. The bolt blazed through the air, leaving a trail of scorching heat and reducing anything it touched to ash. The mage's burning bolt was a testament to their mastery over the destructive forces of fire.

A mage opened a portal between dimensions, invoking the spell of Elemental Portal. They channeled the energies of the elements, creating a gateway that connected different realms. The portal crackled with elemental power, allowing for the transportation of matter and energy between disparate locations. The mage's elemental portal was a testament to their ability to bridge the divide between worlds.

A mage wove intricate illusions, invoking the spell of Illusory Manipulation. They distorted perception, creating phantasmal images and deceiving the senses of those around them. Illusions danced and shimmered, playing tricks on the mind and leading astray those who sought to discern reality from fantasy. The mage's illusory manipulation was a testament to their mastery of deception and their ability to create vivid, immersive illusions.

A surge of elemental energy coursed through a mage as they cast the spell of Elemental Manipulation. They wielded the raw power of fire, water, earth, or air, molding and shaping it to their will. Flames roared, water surged, rocks levitated, and gusts of wind swirled as the mage's elemental manipulation reshaped the world around them. The mage's command over the elements was a testament to their ability to harness the primal forces of nature.

A mage channeled the essence of magic itself, invoking the spell of Essence Channeling. They became a conduit for raw magical power, drawing energy from the arcane reservoirs of the universe. The mage's form shimmered with arcane energy, and their spells surged with increased potency. The mage's essence channeling was a testament to their mastery over the very fabric of magic.

A mage summoned beings from the astral plane, invoking the spell of Astral Summoning. They reached out to the ethereal realm, beckoning astral entities to their side. Spirits materialized, their otherworldly forms taking shape in the mortal realm. The mage's astral summoning was a testament to their ability to bridge the gap between dimensions and summon allies from beyond the veil.

A surge of dimensional energy radiated from a mage as they cast the spell of Dimensional Intervention. They manipulated the fabric of space and time, creating a localized distortion that disrupted the normal flow of reality. The boundaries between dimensions blurred, and the mage's intervention allowed for unique opportunities or unexpected consequences. The mage's dimensional intervention was a testament to their ability to manipulate the very fabric of existence.

A mage tapped into the essence of shadows, invoking the spell of Shadow Empowerment. They shrouded themselves in darkness, becoming one with the shadows that danced and flickered around them. The mage's power swelled, their abilities heightened, and their connection to the realm of shadows intensified. The mage's shadow empowerment was a testament to their command over the hidden and enigmatic powers of darkness.

A mage conjured a dimensional fortress, invoking the spell of Dimensional Fortress. They created a temporary stronghold that existed outside the normal confines of space and time. The fortress materialized, its architecture and defenses shaped by the mage's will. The mage's dimensional fortress was a testament to their ability to create a haven that defied the laws of reality.

A mage delved into the realm of dreams, invoking the spell of Dream. They entered the ethereal domain of slumber, where reality and fantasy intertwined. Within the dreamscape, the mage could manipulate the environment, shape events, and communicate with dreamers. The mage's dreamwalking abilities were a testament to their connection with the realm of dreams and their ability to navigate the enigmatic landscapes of the subconscious mind.

A mage summoned fey creatures, invoking the spell of Summon Fey. They forged a mystical bond with the denizens of the fae realm, drawing them into the mortal plane. Sprites fluttered, pixies giggled, and elves appeared, answering the mage's call. The mage's summoning of fey was a testament to their connection with the magical beings of the fae and their ability to command their aid.

A surge of psychic energy emanated from a mage as they cast the spell of Intellect Manifestation Projection. They projected their consciousness into the mindscape, materializing as an ethereal form. Their thoughts became tangible, their ideas taking shape within the minds of others. The mage's intellect manifestation projection was a testament to their ability to influence the thoughts and perceptions of those around them.

A mage imbued their spells with a potent elemental curse, invoking the spell of Elemental Curse. They laced their magic with a malevolent energy, afflicting their targets with a debilitating effect tied to one of the elements. Fire burned, water drowned, earth immobilized, and air suffocated as the mage's elemental curse took hold. The mage's curse was a testament to their ability to twist the powers of the elements for dark purposes.

A surge of frigid energy enveloped a mage's hands as they cast the spell of Soul Freeze. They reached into the depths of their power, encasing a target's soul in a frozen prison. The target's life force was stilled, their essence locked away in icy confinement. The mage's soul freeze was a testament to their mastery over the forces of frost and their ability to manipulate the very essence of life.

A mage erected a powerful barrier of the mind, invoking the spell of Mind Wind. They created a psychic shield that repelled intrusive thoughts, mental attacks, and manipulative influences. The barrier swirled with telekinetic energy, deflecting psychic assaults and preserving the mage's mental integrity. The mage's mind wind was a testament to their mastery of mental defenses and their ability to withstand the onslaught of intrusive forces.

A surge of illusory energy surrounded a mage as they cast the spell of Sickening Image. They projected a horrifying illusion that preyed upon the fears and weaknesses of their enemies. The illusory image distorted reality, inducing panic, nausea, and paralysis in those who beheld it. The mage's sickening image was a testament to their mastery of psychological manipulation and their ability to exploit the vulnerabilities of the mind.

A mage summoned a protective shield of elemental energy, invoking the spell of Elemental Shield. They called upon the power of fire, water, earth, or air to create a resilient barrier that shielded them from harm. Flames blazed, waves surged, rocks solidified, or gusts of wind swirled around the mage, forming an impenetrable defense. The mage's elemental shield was a testament to their ability to harness the elements for their protection.

A surge of astral energy enveloped a mage as they cast the spell of Astral Projection. They detached their consciousness from their physical form, projecting it into the astral realm. In this ethereal state, the mage could traverse great distances, observe distant locations, and interact with astral entities. The mage's astral projection was a testament to their mastery of astral travel and their connection with the higher planes of existence.

A mage merged their essence with arcane forces, invoking the spell of Arcane Fusion. They became one with the primordial energies of magic, their being suffused with arcane power. The mage's form crackled with mystic energy, and their spells resonated with amplified might. The mage's arcane fusion was a testament to their affinity with the arcane arts and their ability to merge with the very essence of magic.

A surge of spiritual energy radiated from a mage as they cast the spell of Soul Blast. They channeled the essence of souls, unleashing a concentrated blast of spiritual force. The blast tore through the barriers of the physical realm, impacting the soul essence of their targets. The mage's soul blast was a testament to their ability to tap into the ethereal realms and manipulate the essence of life and death.

A mage summoned a shielding familiar, invoking the spell of Shielding Familiar. They called forth a mystical creature attuned to defensive magic. The familiar manifested as a guardian spirit or an ethereal creature that shielded the mage and their allies from harm. The familiar's presence provided a protective aura, deflecting attacks and bolstering the mage's defenses. The mage's summoning of a shielding familiar was a testament to their connection with magical creatures and their ability to call upon them for protection.

A surge of energy coalesced into a protective barrier, invoking the spell of Elemental Barrier. The mage commanded the forces of fire, water, earth, or air to form a resilient shield that repelled attacks. Flames danced, water rippled, rocks solidified, or gusts of wind swirled, creating a barrier that absorbed and deflected incoming harm. The mage's elemental barrier was a testament to their control over the elements and their ability to shape them into formidable defenses.

A mage distorted the perception of reality, invoking the spell of Elemental Distortion. They manipulated the elements to create illusions, warping the environment and confusing their foes. Flames danced in unnatural patterns, water flowed against gravity, rocks levitated, and gusts of wind twisted and turned in erratic paths. The mage's elemental distortion was a testament to their mastery of illusionary magic and their ability to bend the laws of nature.

A surge of elemental energy surged through a mage as they cast the spell of Elemental Valor. They channeled the power of fire, water, earth, or air, enhancing their own physical and magical capabilities. Flames ignited within them, water bestowed fluidity, rocks bestowed resilience, or gusts of wind granted swiftness and agility. The mage's elemental valor was a testament to their affinity with the elements and their ability to draw strength from them.

A mage tapped into the fabric of reality itself, invoking the spell of Reality Channeling. They became a conduit for the fundamental forces that governed existence. The mage's touch altered the laws of reality, reshaping matter and energy according to their will. The mage's reality channeling was a testament to their command over the very nature of existence.

A surge of arcane energy enveloped a mage as they cast the spell of Mirror Control. They harnessed the power of reflective surfaces, manipulating the reflections within mirrors and other reflective objects. Illusory duplicates emerged, mimicking the mage's movements and casting their spells. The mage's mirror control was a testament to their mastery of illusionary magic and their ability to create copies of themselves.

A mage fortified their defenses with a resilient energy shield, invoking the spell of Energy Fortress. They created an impenetrable barrier composed of pure energy that surrounded them or their allies. The fortress crackled with arcane power, absorbing and dispersing incoming attacks. The mage's energy fortress was a testament to their mastery of defensive magic and their ability to create impregnable barriers.

A surge of astral energy radiated from a mage as they cast the spell of Astral Strike. They channeled the ethereal forces of the astral realm, imbuing their attacks with otherworldly power. Their strikes passed through physical barriers, affecting the very essence of their targets. The mage's astral strike was a testament to their connection with the astral plane and their ability to harness its energies for offensive purposes.

A mage constructed a golem-like entity out of pure thought, invoking the spell of Mind Golem. They materialized a powerful construct composed of psychic energy, shaped by their mental commands. The golem obeyed the mage's will, attacking enemies, defending allies, or carrying out specific tasks. The mage's mind golem was a testament to their mastery of mental manipulation and their ability to give form to their thoughts.

Chapter 29
A surge of power enveloped a mage as they cast the spell of Shape Manipulation. They manipulated the physical forms of objects, altering their properties, size, or structure. Matter warped and reshaped, conforming to the mage's will. The mage's shape manipulation was a testament to their mastery over the building blocks of the material world.

A mage infused an inanimate object with a fragment of their soul, invoking the spell of Soul Object. The object became imbued with a portion of the mage's essence, gaining unique properties or abilities. It resonated with the mage's energy, responding to their commands and serving as an extension of their will. The mage's soul object was a testament to their connection with their own soul and their ability to infuse objects with their life force.

A mage manifested their soul essence, invoking the spell of Soul Manifestation. Their spiritual energy materialized, taking on a semi-transparent form. The manifestation reflected the mage's inner nature and intentions, whether radiant and benevolent or dark and foreboding. The mage's soul manifestation was a testament to their mastery over their own soul and their ability to project its presence in the physical realm.

A surge of intense heat emanated from a mage's hand as they cast the spell of Fireball. They conjured a sphere of blazing flames, hurling it toward their enemies. The fireball exploded upon impact, engulfing its targets in a conflagration of searing heat. The mage's fireball was a testament to their control over the element of fire and their ability to unleash its destructive power.

A crackling surge of electrical energy arced from a mage's fingertips as they cast the spell of Lightning Binding. They channeled electricity, creating crackling tendrils that coiled around their foes. The lightning bound their targets, immobilizing them and inflicting jolts of electrifying pain. The mage's lightning binding was a testament to their mastery over the element of electricity and their ability to harness its stunning force.

A mage quickened their movements and reaction speed, invoking the spell of Haste. They tapped into the flow of time, accelerating their own perception and physical capabilities. The mage moved with enhanced speed and agility, outpacing their adversaries and reacting swiftly to any situation. The mage's haste was a testament to their manipulation of time and their ability to transcend the limitations of normal motion.

A surge of elemental energy engulfed a mage as they cast the spell of Elemental Storm. They summoned a tempest of raw elemental power, unleashing a cataclysmic barrage of fire, water, earth, or air. The elements converged in a devastating display of destruction, ravaging the surrounding area and overwhelming their foes. The mage's elemental storm was a testament to their command over the forces of nature and their ability to unleash their devastating wrath.

A mage amplified their own soul energy, invoking the spell of Soul Amplification. Their spiritual essence surged, resonating with heightened intensity. The mage's spells grew more potent, their effects magnified, and their magic became a force to be reckoned with. The mage's soul amplification was a testament to their mastery over their own soul and their ability to augment their magical abilities.

A surge of arcane energy enveloped a mage as they cast the spell of Enchant Extraction. They drew upon the residual enchantments imbued in an object, unraveling and absorbing their magical essence. The mage's arcane senses detected the intricate threads of magic, and with a touch or gesture, they absorbed the enchantments into themselves. The mage's enchant extraction was a testament to their expertise in arcane manipulation and their ability to harness the power of enchantments.

A mage received a divine blessing from the realm of shadows, invoking the spell of Shadow Blessing. They became infused with the essence of darkness, gaining enhanced abilities and resilience. Shadows clung to the mage's form, granting them heightened stealth, perception, or resilience to physical or magical attacks. The mage's shadow blessing was a testament to their connection with the shadow realm and their ability to draw upon its mysterious powers.

A surge of energy enveloped a mage as they cast the spell of Reality Shield. They projected a barrier of pure reality, a shield that nullified or repelled supernatural or magical effects. The shield shimmered with the stability of the physical realm, protecting the mage and their allies from the distortions of arcane or mystical forces. The mage's reality shield was a testament to their understanding of the laws of reality and their ability to manipulate them for defensive purposes.

A mage unleashed a powerful banishment, invoking the spell of Banishing Undead. They channeled spiritual energy that targeted and expelled undead creatures from the mortal realm. The banished undead were forced back into their own plane of existence or dispersed into ethereal nothingness. The mage's banishing of undead was a testament to their mastery over the forces of life and death and their ability to confront the unholy with righteous power.

A surge of psychic energy radiated from a mage as they cast the spell of Maddening Nova. They unleashed a devastating psychic shockwave that shattered the minds of those caught within its range. Sanity crumbled, thoughts spiraled into chaos, and madness took hold. The mage's maddening nova was a testament to their mastery of mental manipulation and their ability to unleash the untamed forces of the mind.

A mage manipulated the element of water, invoking the spell of Spirit Water. They commanded water in its purest form, shaping and controlling it with ease. Waves surged, currents flowed, and mist enveloped the mage, providing them with an arsenal of aquatic power. The mage's spirit water was a testament to their affinity with the element of water and their ability to wield its fluid might.

A surge of ethereal energy enveloped a mage's hands as they cast the spell of Essence Hands. They extended their spiritual essence, manifesting ethereal hands that could interact with the incorporeal. These hands could grasp and manipulate ethereal or spiritual entities, disrupt their essence, or mend and heal ethereal wounds. The mage's essence hands were a testament to their connection with the spiritual realm and their ability to bridge the gap between the material and the immaterial.

A mage drained the life force of their opponents, invoking the spell of Warding Drain. They reached out with their consciousness, latching onto the vital energies of their foes. The mage absorbed the essence of their enemies, rejuvenating themselves while sapping the strength of their adversaries. The mage's warding drain was a testament to their mastery over the forces of life and death and their ability to sustain themselves through the consumption of life force.

A surge of astral energy radiated from a mage as they cast the spell of Astral Wrath. They channeled the volatile power of the astral plane, unleashing a devastating onslaught of ethereal energy upon their enemies. The astral energy tore through reality, leaving behind trails of disruption and spiritual decay. The mage's astral wrath was a testament to their connection with the astral realms and their ability to harness its raw power.

A mage conjured illusions that distorted reality, invoking the spell of Reality Illusion. They crafted intricate and convincing illusions that deceived the senses of their targets. The illusions could be indistinguishable from reality, fooling even the keenest of observers. The mage's reality illusion was a testament to their mastery of illusionary magic and their ability to manipulate perception.

A surge of arcane energy rippled through the surroundings as a mage cast the spell of Arcane Wave. They unleashed a wave of raw magical power that surged outward, affecting everything in its path. The arcane wave disrupted magical energies, nullified spells, and weakened the magical abilities of those caught within its reach. The mage's arcane wave was a testament to their control over arcane forces and their ability to reshape the very fabric of magic.

A mage launched a focused burst of elemental energy, invoking the spell of Elemental Spike. They condensed the power of fire, water, earth, or air into a concentrated projectile that surged toward their target. The spike impacted with explosive force, delivering the destructive might of the chosen element. The mage's elemental spike was a testament to their command over the forces of nature and their ability to focus them into a concentrated assault.

A mage merged their own essence with that of a divine being, invoking the spell of Divine Fusion. They became infused with the divine essence, radiating power and authority. The mage's physical and magical capabilities were greatly enhanced, and they exuded an aura of divinity. The mage's divine fusion was a testament to their connection with the divine realm and their ability to merge their mortal form with godlike energy.

A mage peered into the mysteries of fate and possibility, invoking the spell of Divination. They tapped into the flow of time and the threads of destiny, gaining glimpses of future events or insights into the present. Visions unfolded before the mage's eyes, revealing hidden knowledge and guiding their actions. The mage's divination was a testament to their attunement with the cosmic forces that shape the world.

A surge of dark energy emanated from a mage as they cast the spell of Curse Burst. They unleashed a burst of malevolent energy that infected their enemies with curses and afflictions. The curses sapped their strength, twisted their perception, or brought about misfortune. The mage's curse burst was a testament to their command over dark magic and their ability to unleash curses upon their foes.

A mage became a conduit for the thoughts and consciousness of spirits, invoking the spell of Mind Conduit. They established a connection with the ethereal realm, allowing the spirits to communicate through them or even possess their body temporarily. The mage's mind conduit was a testament to their affinity with the spirits and their ability to act as a bridge between the material and spiritual planes.

A surge of sinister energy emanated from a mage as they cast the spell of Soul Darkness. They tapped into the depths of their own soul, drawing forth shadows and darkness that coalesced into a tangible form. The soul darkness shrouded the mage, granting them enhanced stealth, and could be manipulated to lash out at their enemies, draining their vitality or suffocating them in shadow. The mage's soul darkness was a testament to their mastery over the dark aspects of their own soul and their ability to wield them as a weapon.

A mage summoned a burst of elemental energy, invoking the spell of Summon Infusion. They channeled the raw power of fire, water, earth, or air, manifesting a concentrated burst of elemental might. The burst surged forward, overwhelming their enemies with its destructive force or bolstering the mage's own abilities with the essence of the chosen element. The mage's summon infusion was a testament to their command over the forces of nature and their ability to channel their elemental power.

A surge of spiritual energy resonated from a mage as they cast the spell of Spirit Resonance. They attuned themselves to the spiritual realm, establishing a harmonious connection with the spirits that dwelled within it. The mage's presence exuded a calming aura that soothed spirits, evoked respect, or harnessed their assistance. The mage's spirit resonance was a testament to their affinity with the spirit realm and their ability to resonate with its energies.

A mage melded with the shadows, invoking the spell of Shadowmeld. They merged their physical form with the darkness, becoming almost indistinguishable from their surroundings. The mage's silhouette blended seamlessly with the shadows, granting them enhanced stealth and making them incredibly difficult to detect. The mage's shadowmeld was a testament to their mastery over the realm of shadows and their ability to move unseen.

A surge of elemental power enveloped a mage as they cast the spell of Elemental Valor. They channeled the essence of fire, water, earth, or air, imbuing themselves with the strength and resilience of the chosen element. Flames ignited within their eyes, water flowed through their veins, rocks formed a protective armor, or gusts of wind propelled their movements. The mage's elemental valor was a testament to their connection with the elements and their ability to draw upon their inherent power.

A mage reshaped the fabric of reality, invoking the spell of Reality Transmutation. They altered the fundamental properties of objects or the environment, bending them to their will. The mage's touch could transmute one substance into another, reshape the terrain, or imbue objects with new properties. The mage's reality transmutation was a testament to their mastery over the laws of reality and their ability to reshape the world itself.

A surge of arcane energy enveloped a mage as they cast the spell of Enchant Object. They weaved intricate arcane patterns and incantations, infusing an object with magical properties. The enchantment bestowed upon the object could enhance its inherent qualities, bestow additional abilities, or imbue it with protective wards. The mage's enchant object was a testament to their skill in arcane craftsmanship and their ability to empower the mundane with magic.

A mage merged their soul with another, invoking the spell of Soul Fusion. They formed a profound connection, intertwining their essences and forging a bond of shared power. The mage and their ally became unified, their strengths amplified, and their abilities synchronized. The mage's soul fusion was a testament to their understanding of the deep ties that bind souls together and their ability to merge them for mutual benefit.

A surge of psychic energy distorted the astral plane as a mage cast the spell of Astral Distortion. They manipulated the ethereal fabric, causing ripples and warps in the astral realm. These distortions could disorient or incapacitate astral beings, disrupt astral travel, or create barriers that impeded access to the astral plane. The mage's astral distortion was a testament to their mastery over the intangible realms and their ability to shape them to their advantage.

A mage cloaked themselves in ethereal energy, invoking the spell of Astral Cloak. They wrapped themselves in an intangible shroud, rendering them partially phased out of the material plane. The mage's form became hazy and indistinct, allowing them to move through solid objects or resist physical attacks. The mage's astral cloak was a testament to their connection with the astral plane and their ability to manipulate its energies for protection.

A surge of radiant energy emanated from a mage as they cast the spell of Energy Beacon. They became a beacon of pure energy, radiating an aura that bolstered their allies and enhanced their magical abilities. The mage's energy beacon infused their surroundings with a pulsating energy, empowering those within its range and inspiring them to greater feats. The mage's energy beacon was a testament to their ability to harness and channel energy for the benefit of themselves and their comrades.

A mage summoned a wave of arcane energy, invoking the spell of Arcane Wave. They unleashed a surge of pure arcane power that rippled through the surroundings, disrupting magical energies and destabilizing arcane spells. The mage's arcane wave was a testament to their mastery over the arcane arts and their ability to manipulate and control magical forces.

A surge of elemental energy coalesced into a barrier as a mage cast the spell of Elemental Barrier. They summoned a protective shield made of fire, water, earth, or air, depending on the chosen element. The elemental barrier absorbed and deflected attacks of a corresponding nature, providing the mage with a formidable defense against elemental assaults. The mage's elemental barrier was a testament to their command over the elements and their ability to wield them for protection.

A mage locked the essence of a target's soul, invoking the spell of Soul Lock. They established a spiritual connection with their opponent, binding their soul in place and limiting their ability to act. The soul lock hindered the target's movements, suppressed their magical powers, or prevented them from using certain abilities. The mage's soul lock was a testament to their understanding of the intricate workings of the soul and their ability to manipulate it for their own purposes.

A surge of primal energy erupted from a mage as they cast the spell of Guardian's Fury. They tapped into the essence of a powerful guardian spirit, channeling its wrath and harnessing its tremendous strength. The mage's form became infused with the spirit's energy, granting them enhanced physical prowess and an aura of intimidating power. The mage's guardian's fury was a testament to their connection with the guardian spirits and their ability to unleash their fury as their own.

The mages cast the spells all at the same time at Peter.

Goblins and dholes were there to protect Peter, including Richardess, Margareth, Helper 2, Helper 3, Ben's, and many others. They blocked Peter from death.

Seeing that he was close to death, Peter doubled down and blasted the mages, his form turning illusory in his white godly form and growing to 40 meters tall. He levitated, avoiding and resisting many spells.

A dhole and a goblin resistance movement emerged, opposing the protection of Peter. Existing anti-human groups joined in, voicing their discontent and attracting others who harbored fresh hatred and grievances.

"Go on a killing spree! Mercy for scum is pointless!"

"Let's fight to the last man!"

They forced those who downplayed and believed in Peter to join or die.

Peter's attack got the attention of humans from abroad.

Peter screamed that he was only getting started and for those who sided with him to follow him. He spread light upon the city, burning his surroundings.

The mages threw themselves at Peter in a final suicidal charge.

Peter subdivided them with his beams of light magic like he did with the crowds before from reaching the towers.

The mage and melee and ranged fighter formations fell apart.

Ice spears shot at Peter.

Peter defended against them easily with his magic and durable body.

As a way of honoring his past, he held a rock in his hand and rubbed his fingers against it, soothing himself.

He pressed his long fingernails against the tips of his thumbs and index fingers to calm his anxiety.

He had bravado, but the physical pain he felt made him lose it.

Peter levitated away while his protectors retreated and scattered aside.

Chapter 30
Hours later, in his normal human form, in the forest where he appeared when he arrived here in this different world, Peter sat down.

Around him, thousands of mice, dholes, and goblins were hidden, protecting him in secret more than before.

Peter was exhausted, sitting down in the shade amid the hot, humid air.

He messaged Sigurd, "Hey, Sigurd."

Sigurd was silent.

Peter felt calm. He imagined a familiar song spinning into play. It was Radiohead's Daily Mail.

He tried to wash his hands in the wet mud, but the mud only dirtied his hands more.

Peter wanted to visit a new place to start fresh and become a librarian to understand the world where he was.

"Can I do it?" he said.

He levitated away.

He broke free out of the mice' reach.

Peter was nervous, looking around. "What if some treant stops me? Or some monster leaps out from the ground and captures me? Can they still hear me? Can they still pinpoint my location? Where are they?"

He levitated farther and farther away.

Peter levitated forward hundreds of meters in the air, taking in the stunning scenery of a tropical forest and jungle spread across the archipelago. Island after island, he glided effortlessly across the straits, observing the captivating beauty that unfolded beneath him.

The tropical forest and jungle adorned the landscape with vibrant hues of green. The undulating terrain was covered by dense canopies of foliage, creating a stark contrast against the surrounding azure waters. Islands emerged like verdant gems amidst the expansive seas.

Peter's aerial journey provided a panoramic view of the archipelago's diverse topography. He witnessed sprawling forests, a tapestry of life, stretching as far as the eye could see. Towering trees reached towards the sky, while numerous plants thrived beneath the sheltering canopy. Sunlight filtered through the dense foliage, casting ethereal rays upon the forest floor.

The symphony of nature enveloped Peter as he floated through the air. Melodious songs of tropical birds filled the atmosphere, blending with the gentle rustling of leaves and the rhythmic ebb and flow of waves against the shores below. The orchestration of natural sounds created a serene ambiance.

The tropical forest revealed its remarkable biodiversity. Peter observed the intricate interplay of plant species as they intertwined in a dense embrace. Towering trees stood as sentinels, while vibrant flowers, ferns, and mosses adorned the forest floor. Epiphytes clung to trunks and branches, adding delicate beauty to the thriving ecosystem.

Gliding over the straits, Peter marveled at the smooth connection between land and water. Meandering rivers snaked through the jungle, sustaining the vibrant vegetation. Cascading waterfalls descended from moss-covered cliffs, shimmering under the sunlight. Tranquil pools provided sanctuary for a diverse array of aquatic life.

The tropical forest and jungle teemed with a diverse range of animal species. Monkeys swung gracefully through the trees, displaying their agile prowess. Colorful butterflies flitted from blossom to blossom, while reptiles and amphibians found refuge amidst the lush foliage.

Peter's elevated perspective allowed him to witness the harmonious beauty of the tropical forest and jungle in full splendor. The captivating landscapes, the symphony of natural sounds, and the rich biodiversity merged smoothly to create a captivating tableau that left an enduring impression on his mind.

A harpoon flew at him from the water, striking him in the pelvis region.

Peter screamed in pained surprise, gasping for air, but he healed himself in the blink of the eye.

He wrinkled his nose. "What the hell... What the hell..." His heart was pounding, making his body shiver at each beat.

Peter pieced together his memories, replacing his previous mapped framework with a new one implementing cartography and geography that conduced a calming sensation that smoothed the friction between his muscles. Coupled with the relief from healing himself after the harpoon shot, this sensation was so enveloping that he felt the passion of arousal. He had developed this strong passion for learning and reading.

He avoided the next harpoon and continued on his way.

Throughout his journey, Peter wore many different clothes after ridding himself of his original Earth-based clothes. Yet, when he looked at his body, he had his original clothes and body again.

Sigurd messaged Peter, "Peter, this is my final message.

"Do it for yourself."

Peter gasped, his eyes darting around. He recognized that Sigurd's statement "Do it for yourself" mirrored one of the statements that he heard from the voice who saved him when the mages cast their second barrage of spells before.

"Sigurd, are you the one who saved me?" he said.

Sigurd was silent, and he was gone. When Peter became enraged, he used his spirit to empower Peter, sacrificing himself.

Peter only believed he was gone. "Sigurd..."

Sigurd was the voice who saved him during the second barrage of spells before. He had also been the one who magically provided Peter with his original clothes. He revoked the merging process with his spiritual death, giving Peter his original body.

Peter was distressed. "I already know a lot... yet... Who are the Helpers, Sigurd! Who is Richardess really! Who are you people!

"Callous... Mom... Dad...

"Why did you save me?" He only saw the scenery devoid of everyone he had met in his journey. He loved them all. He had a good life.

Chapter 31
At Callous' grave, Peter smiled, a frown forming on his lips. He felt that he was substandard, inferior, and deficient in terms of productivity.

"I am not a victim," he declared, his presence gracing the earth like the Sloan Great Wall upon the universe.

He pressed his hand against his toes and tested what would happen if he healed himself when he was fine. He learned that his skin and muscles overgrew at the toes of his left foot outward like water floating in space. He tried to remove these overgrowths by healing, but he worsened them.

The overgrowths looked disgusting, yet he was calm, stone-faced. While he pondered whether to go to the hospital to remove these overgrowths, he engaged in three mannerisms. One, he pressed below his mouth and stretching its skin outward. Two, he rubbed his collar bones. Three, he rubbed and pinched the skin at the center of his neck, making it taper.

He honored the demise of his friends, going to Sigurd's place of demise and imparting his goodbye. He repeated this honoring to Helper 1, Helper 4, the Alaska dholes, the kobolds, the 16 hunters, and the 35 people he eliminated when he raged upon the streets of the town Zon.

He prayed for forgiveness, kissing the back of his right hand where he held a throwing rock.

The spirit of resistance marked his face. "I can not stop."

In the goblin-dominated town Zon, the outside activity of dholes and goblins decreased after Peter's terror attack; however, it returned to relative normality after only a week.

On a street, the goblin Carlos, a goblin noble part of a merchant guild, made his way to a store. He ordered fresh meat and dairy products, speaking in his goblin people's second language. He cultivated a scruffy appearance in rejection of middle-class aesthetic values.

On the outskirts, the goblin Obed attached a tall rod to a wooden tower that overlooked a river and a kobold encampment, biting onto a rope as he tied up the rod. He was situated on a high part of this tower. He used magic and a ladder to navigate this tower. Kobolds arrived below, bringing fresh bread to eat. The purpose of the tower was to serve as a testament of height of power and a display of structure and order. The purpose of the rod was to warn Obed telepatically when any spell detrimented this tower.

In a prison, the goblin Maysee pressed her head against the wall, her hands in chains. She became a criminal after she disregarded the rule of sharing loot fairly in a dungeon adventurer party. She sighed, remembering her will to survive and smirking as a result.

On a street, the dhole Helper 2 sweeped the ground, peering at several children clapping offbeat while they played games on the street. He smiled since he used to enjoy clapping musically.

On another street, the dhole Helper 3 was staring at a saddle inside a store through a window, wondering if he should buy it. He waited for someone to enter the store, tapping his toe and stretching his lower back. He felt numb in the face of the terror of Peter's attack because he had arrived from dhole land a few hours ago after the contractors of Zon repaired this attack's damage.

In the dhole-populated town Pulang Ilaw Bahaghari, Richardess yawned, pressing the side of her torso against the wall to relax her stiff muscles. She was sitting down, perusing through books that contained spells. These spells contained a series of images and incantations that she had to memorize in order for her to cast them effectively. She and the other dholes received a break after Peter disappeared out of their detection range. She tended to pray to Peter.

In Zon, Peter wore a hood and hid his face with a mask. He looked suspicious, but he was fast enough to avoid a group of naked goblins wearing loinclothes that he learned were part of a local police force.

After entering an inn, Peter got a glimpse of the bard to whom he had confessed a murder. He ignored her, preferring to scan the food customers ate with a reserved, observant, aged demeanor.

An intrusive thought flashed through his mind that told him to blast everyone inside. In rejection of this thought, Peter stood up and walked toward a placid area where a notice board hung that displayed various informational material. "Hmm," he said, ignoring the stares of the customers at him.

"You're really shameless, aren't you?" said the bard behind Peter.

The human Sandy Bacon, whose subordinates Peter had killed in self-defense, followed behind the bard. "I should introduce myself," she said.

Peter turned to them, a ferocious stare replacing his reserved face. His measured breath hinted that he was ready to fight.

Sandy Bacon firmed her posture to reciprocate Peter's assertive gesture. She had clasped her hands in front of herself and directed palms away from Peter to show him she was openly peaceful.

Peter avoided her, feeling that she was too strong for him.

The bard stepped aside with a neutral face for Peter to pass

After exiting the inn, Peter looked for Helper 2, muttering about magic and powers, feeling nervous.

The intelligent mice who could tell him Helper 2's location restricted Peter's access to them since his attack.

Peter failed to find Helper 2 and gave up after an hour.

He returned to a green, grey, brown, and pink bridge which Ben introduced to him before.

Peter looked over the guard rail of the bridge, seeing a river.

He dismissed the pieces of information scattered around him. He called these pieces “bla bla blas.”

The skin on Peter's face fell away. "What's this?" He healed himself.

He saw a hospital, and he visited it, getting help for the overgrowth on the toes of his left foot and paying them a peso.

Feeling experimental since his success at learning about the healing overgrowth, he pressed himself to visit dhole land to study their culture.

If he understood the rules of the world where he was, he would participate in it and get a sizable group of people he can manage, adding value to this world.

In dhole land, Peter navigated the winding, hilly streets of a crowded dhole town city, where gangs roamed and poverty persisted. However, amidst these challenges, people possessed the magical ability to create food. The streets, both large and narrow, were teeming with activity, requiring sideways movement in the narrow alleyways and offering rough pathways. Unpleasant smells emanated from the canals, while cement structures were ubiquitous. Wooden stores featured iron window grilles, and people lingered around, loitering. Gated communities provided a breath of fresh air, adorned with greenery and inviting streets.

Repurposed houses served as churches, where food, preaching, gossip, singing, and dancing took place. The rich donned layered clothes, while the poor wore simpler attire. The air reverberated with singing, and vendors sold their wares. The middle-class gathered in plazas, while street vendors, utilizing magic, offered delectable food. On rooftops, magical mice resided in birdhouse-like homes with rainwater tubes. The air was filled with the aromas of food, stray cats roamed, and people displayed diverse attire and attitudes. Poor children played, and some resorted to begging. The utility magic of dholes crackled in the air. Laughter and conversation echoed through the restaurants, creating a lively atmosphere.

Peter felt daunted.

He wandered to the wilderness and began to test his magic powers, turning into his white godly form. He rubbed his white arms and the tips of his fingers, noticing their smoothness and missing hair. He touched his face and felt only skin, realizing his missing eyes, nose, mouth, and eyebrows. He felt for his ears and found them. The dissonance throughout his physical body caused him fear. Conversely, he dealt with this fear in a calm manner, exhibiting the feeling that he was about to find himself at the top of the world.

While maintaining his white godly form, he transformed into his 40-meter-tall giant form. This form caused booms and depressions on the ground and broke trees with the air that the movement of his limbs displaced. He tried to use magic to stop this air displacement and the booms of his colossal footsteps; however, he failed. To minimize the damage he caused, he reverted to his normal human form.

He burst into laughter after recognizing his feelings of normalcy despite the transcendent nature of his powers. "Haha!"

Despite the reason for his laughter, he perceived his laughter as perplexing and eccentric.

He continued to laugh, slapping his hips. He was exhilarated, each breath a soothing release. "Why am I like this seriously?" His phrasing came across as frustrated toward himself, yet his disposition was full of self-acceptance.

He lay down on the ground and fell asleep.

30 minutes later, a wolf was biting his neck, waking him up.

Peter maintained healing magic on his neck while aiming his hand at the wolf's neck. His hand overshot and undershot a couple of times before he blasted the wolf and killed it.

He jolted backward and rested his hands on his hips, glancing at the wolf's body and wincing in disgust. He usually ignored bodies, but since he was safe, he could stay put where the fight began and ended.

He panted as his stress lessened.

He began to wander again. He felt a constant level of stress since using his magic power during his terror attack on the town, as well as in subsequent uses. This stress made him tend toward traveling to new environments.

Through the grass, Peter saw a ruined statue that was stuck on the ground, with its feet underground. Grass colored its legs, and an eroded hill stood right behind it.

Its ruined state reminded him of Sigurd's demise. He wanted to visit Helper 2, whom he knew well, and respectfully communicate to him and the other dholes about Sigurd's demise despite his confidence that they had heard about it through the mice.

Peter said, "Do your best." He meant it for the goblins and dholes who had protected him during his terror attack.

He wanted to say that he was only guilty, but he was happy that he expressed himself even if he knew that he had eliminated many people during his terror attack. To solve these conflicting issues, he decided that he would stare at the green grass to tolerate his dissonance.

He was always on the verge of a a breakdown. To engage in a breakdown, all he had to do was dwell on the past.

Hours ago, an undead ostrich explored outside of its home range from inside a monster cave dungeon, and after walking for several hours, it encountered Peter.

Peter stared at it, his demeanor shifting between nostalgia to distress. The undead ostrich reminded Peter of the time when he killed his first one, introducing a plethora of images that sought to control his emotions.

He focused on the undead ostrich in front of him.

The ostrich had a health bar above it.

Peter raised his eyes to look at the health bar. "What's that?" he asked, his eyes widening in fear.

He raised his hands and prayed to stop the ostrich and the health bar above it.

A blast of white light appeared from his hands and widened to form a square that moved to fill the space the ostrich inhabited.

Peter raised his brows. "What is this?"

Three icons arranged vertically inside a rectangular container appeared on the right side of the ostrich: a sword icon, a heart icon, and an armor icon.

The undead ostrich attacked him on the neck.

Peter fell to the ground, healing himself, remembering that the undead ostrich was an aggressive monster.

He retreated and travelled for many hours to the town Zon, looking for Helper 2. He thought Helper 2 could trap the ostrich with logs. Peter could then experiment with the undead ostrich and potentially gamify life in this different world through the ostrich and video game graphics.

When he saw Helper 2, he realized that around him people in variegated clothes, appearances, and demeanors, with items, spread throughout the street like preparing for a camera shot.

Peter stopped.

Since his experimentation of his powers, an instrusive thought flashed through his mind that that he was a separate being from these people. Looking at these people intensified this thought. Recalling the numerous past occasions concerning this thought caused him a temporary feeling of overwhelming guilt, dignity, and moral responsibility.

He turned to leave, glancing side to side as if a man would snatch his belongings any time now. His expression was mixed and shifting. He wanted to leave to arrange his thoughts. He felt that the existence of video game graphics carried had too many implications for him to get into another mess with someone again.

He returned to the ostrich many hours later, a shocked expression forming on his face.

While Peter was gone, a young man found the ostrich and alerted his home village. Hundreds of villagers then came with various items and artifacts, some useful, some fake. These items and artifacts provided a chance for the villagers to attempt to exert their wills upon the undead ostrich. Some succeeded in shifting the ostrich in their direction through these items and artifacts. However, the villagers wanted more than only to shift the ostrich's direction. They wanted to tame it. These villagers were willing to spend a whole day skipping their usual tasks in order to ascertain their chances at gaining an ostrich ride. Through the use of an artifact that looked like a toothpick, the young man who had found the ostrich succeeded in taming the ostrich.

By the time Peter arrived, the young boy was leading the ostrich aside from the envious pouting expressions of others.

Peter sighed. "Look what happened now. A bunch of people decided to come out of who-knows-where and decided to make the ostrich their pet. I was hoping to treat it and turn into a living ostrich. I haven't seen an ostrich around here ever! It would be great to keep it and breed it until I make my own Monkcraft farm. Dang it."

The young boy stared at Peter, interested in his appearance. He was a dhole from a village called "Dragnot," where even goblins rarely visited. Only one human had ever visited his village.

Peter tilted his head at the boy, showing his interest in the ostrich by glancing between it and the boy.

The boy was stone-faced. When he felt that Peter was going to stay silent, he turned around and left, holding the toothpick artifact that gave him the ostrich.

The ostrich looked at the boy, following his gaze to Peter. It tilted its head and then ran.

A shadow appeared behind Peter.

Peter turned around to see a the golem and the John whom Peter had met at a restaurant.  John was in an undead goblin state.

His feet pounced away, turning left and right like he was about to dance; however, Peter tripped. Instead of hitting the ground, Peter caused himself to levitate using his magic. He floated away away from the screaming, fleeing villagers and up the mountains.

The golem jumped to him and grabbed him by the sides of his torso.

Peter transformed into both his white godly magical form and giant form, stomping the golem immediately.

The golem exploded, and John, tilting his head in surprise, fled backward.

John glanced behind him to summon his golem. However, only a tiny cloud appeared and levitated upward, dispersing shortly after in failure. Despite this failure, John's undead state forced him to feel numb.

Determined, Peter blasted a ray of light, turning John's figure to ash.

Feeling content with this ray of light, he scanned around him, seeing the tiny figures of the villagers running in droves.

Hundreds of meters from Peter, the demon who turned John to an undead slave and ordered him to attack Peter was panting and annoyed.

Meanwhile, Peter fell to his knees. "I'm going to rule the world, aren't I?"

Peter grabbed some of John's ashes and created a small grave where he put them. "Where is she? Your wife, John? John, hey, John, answer me. Please. Where's your wife? She's not here, is she? I see. It's okay John. You don't have to worry. If I see her, I'll tell you. Ha, 'if I see her.' Hopefully.

"John, are you there?" He spoke to the air, addressing two deceased Johns, the goblin one whom he had met at the restaurant and the dhole Helper 1 who used to have the name "John." However, these Johns were long gone.

Peter hid behind a tree, crying like a child. He was a human who relished interpersonal relationships; his appearance, power, and authority in the world where he was conflicted with his morals and ideals. Before, on Earth, he rejected his emotional volatility and impulsivity by chasing after the opposite. This opposite was the attitude of a cold, detached spectator who saw the details as plain as day while online he maintained an analogous persona. Conversely, in this new world, the perceived threats around exacerbated his emotional volatility and impulsivity until he saw himself as a monster who killed, stole, and destroyed.

He wanted to organize the people he met, but he was afraid of controlling them and becoming a monster. He believed that he was normal even now; furthermore, his emotions sought respite from the responsibilities that his powers seemed to offer.

He angrily demanded his participation in the world where he was.

Chapter 32
Five hours ago, a few kilometers away from Peter, five hundred goblins scurried about, chasing little rabbits. They were in a chase. A random quest had requested them to chase and retrieve 10,000 rabbits. The leader of these goblins showed a look of confusion. "Either way, we're getting that bag of money," he said, smirking and sharing a laugh with one of his companions. The group of companions was roughly the size of a military section. When the leader raised his hand, these companions bolted in several directions, climbing trees and magically levitating across short gaps with an eye on their magic capacity.

The five hundred goblins began to raise their weapons and cast their spells for dhole attacks.

A squad of goblins aimed their weapons at tens of dholes that flanked them from the bushes. These goblins were smart since they had magically created a trap at their flanks just in case.

Five dholes fell to the traps, their bodies stopping the momentum of the other tens of dholes.

Soon, ten dholes fell to the ground like pellets, their bodies emitting foul spells.

Another ten dholes fell, their bodies coiled around branches.

Another ten exploded, burned, or froze from magic spell casts.

The goblins cheered and made their way forward, arranging their weapons for another fight.

They hid in the bushes, scurrying back and forth like pacing. They were checking multiple sides and angles for dholes, their weapons at the ready.

A dhole revealed his flank briefly, but an arrow had already struck him on the right chest, neutralizing him.

A dhole raised their paws and made hand signals, confusing the goblins.

From above, a dhole's meteor fell through the canopy full of leaves upon the goblins, crushing three completely.

Five dholes revealed themselves, but the goblins who maintained their positions and attention subjected them to spells, neutralizing them.

The dholes fell like rags, causing the other dholes hiding to take a step back.

The dholes' moral was hit, causing some of them to abandon their positions and retreat.

The goblins stepped forward again, but they were slow, patiently scanning the meteor and for sounds of the goblins under it. They wanted to ensure these goblins status before moving on.

Once they realized the futility of these goblins' survival, they rushed to see if they could catch a few dholes running.

A precise dhole shot one of these goblins dead, nocking another arrow.

A goblin revealed himself, ignorant of the preciseness of this dhole, and an arrow struck him on the neck, neutralizing him.

A dhole cast a spell that made their body durable and revealed himself from the bushes, striking three goblins down before dying himself.

The goblins run back, as their preparedness was dulled. Ten dholes shot and slashed at a few goblins who had risked a good strategic position but come too close to the hiding dholes.

When the goblins found shooting spots, the dholes retreated, making a standstill that lasted for a few seconds.

A dhole telekinetically threw a potion that burned the tree where half of the goblins hid. The burning was so magically fast that two of the goblins caught fire and burned to death. The rest of the goblins retreated sideways to multiple other trees.

The dholes separated, and the dhole who threw fire went too close to the tree which had burned to ashes. A goblin got a chance and cast a spell that neutralized this dhole in a burst of flame.

The goblins grouped up in the center and threw themselves at the dholes who had ventured too close to the goblins.

The goblins and dholes fought face-to-face, limbs flying off and heads rolling.

The last living dhole froze to death, leaving the goblins as the winners.

The goblins lost 80% of their forces, leaving it as a Pyrrhic victory.

Meanwhile, a hundred meters away, three dholes plunged themselves from above, their spears whirling telekinetically. They neutralized 15 goblins below in a flash. The 45 other goblins charged, killing these three dholes.

The other 70 dholes returned when they heard the cries of the goblins; however, since they had fled earlier, they were too late to the scene.

The goblins, having the overwhelming advantage of hiding and two long minutes of preparation, neutralized them and moved forward, all alive for the count.

These goblins spotted a few more dholes who were late.

These dholes retreated, but the goblins were fast, running as if they were flying.

These dholes ran until they collapsed.

The goblins neutralized them, cheering.

A rabbit jumped in front of the goblins, and they reached out and grabbed it by the ears, grinning from ear to ear.

Two dholes cast their spells from a bush nearby, slowly poisoning the goblins one by one.

The goblins realized too late and fell dead. Two of them healed their poisoned bodies; however, the two dholes cast a spell that weakened their legs and then neutralized them.

The dholes cheered and ran forward to regroup with the other dholes.

A large group of goblins appeared and chased after them.

The dholes collapsed one by one under the goblins' ranged assault, and then the goblins neutralized them.

Six squads of goblins regrouped and formed a larger group, numbering roughly the size of a platoon.

The dholes retreated. Some of them were desperately trying to be heroic, throwing themselves at the goblins and trying to kill them.

These goblins, who knew these dholes were acting alone, neutralized them openly.

The goblins cheered in a loud chorus, scaring off the last dholes hiding thinking of doing the same as the dholes who just died.

The dholes prepared to defend a fenced, barren tract of land where 99,999 rabbits roamed.

The goblins adjusted their formation, prioritizing their most destructive mages and fighters.

The goblins charged to finish the dholes off in one fell swoop.

The dholes' most destructive mages and fighters spread out to cover flanks and reduce the effectiveness of close-range spells that covered a wide area. Since the goblin forces were five times the dholes' forces' number, the dholes' spreading out only made the goblins' charge that much more easier.

However, the dholes had special mages that could speed up the rest of the dholes' movement. This speedier movement allowed the dholes to group themselves and separate quickly, chipping at the goblins while avoiding the brunt of their charge.

The goblins called off their charge correctly and cast their spells from afar instead, glacially neutralizing the dholes one by one despite their speed.

The goblins cheered and retrieved the rabbits.

The retrieval of these rabbits reward them with funds to strengthen their forces traditionally and adapt to new trends of spells, gears, and warfare.

Meanwhile, a few kilometers away, Peter sighed, rubbing his head, wondering how he was going to participate in this world.

He went over to the adventurer guild again, hoping to avoid Sandy Becky.

Peter wanted to meet the bard in a better state of mind. He perceived her as a normal person who could appear in the limelight and disappear as easily due to how accustomed she was to her world. He wanted to be like this perception.

When he entered the guild, two tall men stood before him. Their towering frames emanated an air of strength. Sculpted shoulders and sinewy muscles beneath taut skin exuded power that grappled the hearts of those who laid their eyes on them. Their veins rippled through their skin like the veins in a forest chasing after the light. Their hands were callused and capable; yet despite this demeanor, a ray of vulnerability shot from their bones, resembling a dove, a small, feathered bird. Their hands were placed gently on their other hands, as if the force of a blackhole hid inside it.

They were two of the sixteen male adventurers who were part of the bard's goblin group.

Peter's perception of them contrasted with his past instances of showing little consideration, which was due to his recent struggle with power and subsequent rejection of it.

He voiced out a "Bruh," making the two tall men address him. "Human Peter. We know your name. You are to be imprisoned for ordering an attack on the town."

Peter raised his brow. "I didn't do that."

One of the tall men took out a blade and clasped it in front of Peter.

Peter glanced around, expecting to see surprised adventurers, yet the people around him were backing away with stoic gazes, as if the tall men's actions were routine.

Peter backed away, but he exhibited confidence and even excitement, making the tall men hesitate, their expressions annoyed. These tall men raised their hands and shook them patiently , as if expecting a long brawl.

Peter was confident about his powers, and the two men had their hidden strengths. However, he felt compelled to believe himself after seeing the damage he did over the past month and a half.

One of the two tall men threw a feint.

Peter grabbed onto it and magically blasted the man's arms, causing the man to overshoot his leap backward and slam against the wall and then the floor.

With a long spear, the other tall man slashed Peter's arms across in a whirlwind of speed. He stomped Peter's left arm to the ground. He grabbed Peter's neck with his left hand, weakening Peter through a loss of breath. He pressed his spear through Peter's mouth.

Peter shouted, yelling as he transformed into his white godly form, his energy declining. His prolonged healing to keep himself alive exacerbated the decline of his energy, preventing him from transforming in his giant form as well.

The tall man stabbed Peter's limbs off one by one with fast swings; however, due to his excessive use of energy to be speedy, he tripped.

Peter raised his hands at the man's legs, but his magic came out as tiny sparks, falling only a few inches out. His loss of energy was so obvious that he had his first moment of his magic coming out as mere sparks.

He pulled out the spear, falling to his knees, as blood pooled around him.

The adventurers around him stabbed at him, but hundreds of dhole adventurers prevented them, protecting Peter.

One of the dholes ran to heal Peter, but the other tall man cast a spell that weakened his legs, stopping him from reaching Peter.

Peter was seconds away from death, but the two tall men who belonged to the bard's group saved him, pressing their hands above Peter's heart and healing him.

The men kept their abilities hidden, trusting their abilities to handle a human who acted obsequiously to impulse.

They brought the healed Peter and his detached limbs to a prison.

Peter giggled inside his cell. "Of course, I deserve punishment. I've been spoiled by the dholes for too long! Spoon fed! Silver platter!" His giggle grew strong, and then he burst into a guffaw, the sounds of his laughter tearing through his soundproofed cell walls.

"Thank you for teaching me about grace and authority."

He felt that being in prison was like having a father that punished excessive bad behavior.

Outside the prison, ten dholes stood. "We're not breaking him out," said a female voice. "That's stupid—"

"Just listen," said a male voice. "We're not going to take him out just yet, but I heard there's an opportunity of taking out the Grade A crab if we utilize Peter. Floor 50+ shouldn't be so worried—"

"That's what I'm saying," said another male voice. "If we can get him, they said we'll finally get a chance at opening the chests we were supposed to get."

"Ugh, enough about that," said the female voice. "I mean, how can we save this darn foolish trash! He took away the John, the original Matthew, the original Caimin, and the Shallow from us!

"It's not fair to say 'original.' said the second male voice. "You know that despite their powering of Peter, it isn't far-fetched to say that they're still as strong-willed as ever, considering what they did to your boat."

"Yes, hey guys, sit down," said another male voice. "You look sweaty, Martha."

Another female voice said, "If we support him, what then?"

Another female voice interrupted, "I can imagine him doing pushups. Wouldn't he be healing himself by then?"

"No, he's not like you," said another male voice. "I said that already."

"I don't know. It's not like I've seen a human appear so frequently in goblin streets."

The first male voice said, "Have you guys forgotten? The guy we're supposed to be waiting for should be wearing Great Armor, but I only see two guys with enchanted armor."

"None of them look like the type," said another female voice. "What about you? Have you finished your magical assignments?"

"Yeah, yeah..."

Martha, the first female voice, said, "It's stupid even imagining putting ourselves through mud and fricked-up situations only to get him out again—"

"Guys, if we manage to actually do it, said another female voice. "I don't want to hear you guys complaining about unwashed clothes..."

"Yeah," said many voices.

Martha said, "He literally went and destroyed the frickin' lives of 30 people. Are you guys serious? Is this the weight of him coming here and visiting us? I don't think it's worth it. This guy's absolutely morbid!"

"Right, right," said the first male voice.

"Please tell me we're not doing this!"

"Did you guys get finished with the taho drinks?" said the second male voice.

"Yeah, it was fine," said two voices.

"Aren't nobles supposed to mean something in this world?" Martha said.

"Martha, stop," said the second female voice. "We get it."

"But why are the goblins not tending to their own people and instead obsequiously for who-knows-why?" said Martha.

The rest of the group ignored Martha.

"It's disdainful to get this guy even a pinch of freedom," Martha continued. "He deserves to be here. I am not one to get a man executed, but this man is the worst. At least 55 years in jail time since that's what they gave my deadbeat father. Seriously."

Since Peter was a special prisoner, he was trapped in a strictly guarded cell; however, the ten dholes outside had an artifact that could create portals that ignored magical warding against them.

Inside the prison, Peter stared at the walls, feeling explorative. He wrote down his thoughts by magically creating a pen-sized ray of scorching light, but he learned that writing down his thoughts well was difficult.

Outside, Martha glanced at a group of goblins who were part of the 500 goblins who retrieved 10,000 rabbits many hours ago.

She dismissed them, her eyes following another dhole's hand. This dhole's hand raised his hand and cast a spell, slamming through the air and halting suddenly. This halt made a clapping sound, as if the dhole's hand hit a hollow metal container. This sound flew, striking the sky and bouncing back toward the ground. Before it hit the ground, it dispersed, transforming into a magically soothing hum. This hum calmed down everyone within a few hundred meters of the dhole.

Martha sighed in relief, listening to the conversations of the dholes nearby.

"Ey, ey, ey, don't touch my wallet," said a male voice. "I got people's lives in that pocket. We don't want anybody getting tossed out the roster, do we?"

"Right," said a female voice.

"Either way, just press it slowly when you use it okay. This time, if you get it right, I'll reward your mother with one of those magical artifacts she keeps wishing she had."

"Pfft. You seriously bargaining right now?"

"Huh? I said..."

Martha stepped toward them. "Guys, I finally found the right 'note,'" she said. She meant that she could activate the portal artifact to rescue Peter.

"Hmm," said another male voice. "So guys, we can tell them we're done, or we can go take Peter out of there and maybe visit the famous store you guys always wanted. I'm kidding of course, but who knows? Maybe this Peter is a timeless wizard?"

"Peter, ooh! I just realized it was pronounced that way."

"Pfft, you've gotta be hickin' me. Let's just say we haven't ended that charades game we were doing earlier."

Meanwhile, in another conversation, a male voice said, "Now, onwards, my brothers and sisters, it is time!"

A female voice chuckled. "Nah, that kind of voice is inaccurate. Try using a tone that's more grand. Sounds too pampered and reserved. Yours I mean."

"Eh... if I manage to get this voice right, will you start actually cleaning my stuff?"

"W-what do you mean? We're just doing voices. Nothing serious." She let out a humorous, prolonged chuckle.

"We shouldn't also be reserved when it comes to getting those mice healed. Have you gotten permission for Ella to gather the firewood earlier?"

"Not... yet!"

Another male voice said: "Guys, don't spend too much time on your voices remember! I know it's atypical—what Jared wants us to do—but we press onwards."

The female voice chuckled. "Sounds great. You were saying about voices? I remember you telling us to drink water a lot."

"Yeah, I'm very serious about that."

Martha stepped forward. "Bro, can you finish my food for me? I've been hiding it in my pocket. Don't worry I've cast Keep Food Clean." She telekinetically took out a piece of chicken that a purple and yellow shines. This purple shine faded as she gave this chicken to the second male voice. This purple shine resulted from the activiation of Keep Food Clean, which was the spell which Martha casted when she said its name with a purposeful tone.

"Thank you—" she said in a way that sounded like "Tenchu."

"Alright," her brother said, an exuberant smile forming on his face.

"I wonder what a rat is," said another female voice. "Isn't a rat like a creature with legs and feet? How about a human? What is a rat truly?"

The other dholes took his statements as part of a joke, moving ahead with their conversations.

In the other conversation, a female voice said: "Really? Do I really have that impression? Ah..."

Meanwhile, many other voices were chuckling.

A male voice said, "If you think that, imagine how Richard thinks of you."

The female voice gave him a sardonic laugh. "Ha ha."

The rest of the dholes in the conversation laughed.

Chapter 33
Martha glanced at four dholes in her group chuckling, moving ahead with her conversation with her brother.

"You think it's good!" she said, surprised.

"Yeah, hmm, just a little hard to get," her brother said in a garbled voice, trying to bite the hard part of a chicken leg off.

Martha heard a loud clapping. The four dholes at whom she had glanced were laughing hard that they clapped.

Seeing the dholes whom she expected to help her in saving Peter relaxed, she felt curious about what the consensus concerning saving Peter would be.

Inside the prison, Peter was singing an erratic tune : "To the window! To the window! To the walls! To the walls!"

"What am I doing?" he said humurously.

He had decided that he would spend the next years pondering his life.

A portal formed in front of him. A dhole jumped across this portal, his weight slamming Peter down.

Peter wanted to grab the dhole and push him aside. "What the hell? Aliens? Cool magic?" He was excited either way.

Ten guard pressed the tips of their spears against Peter's head. "Stop," they said in a soft, directing voice.

"Okay," Peter said, nodding.

While nodding, he fell to the wall, groaning in pain.

The guards aligned their spears to Peter, one of them slicing Peter's cheek by mistake.

Peter was only a torso with a head since his imprisonment.

The dhole who jumped across the portal cast Guardian's Valor, a holy shield that fortified his defences and bolstered his resolve. Also, he cast Energy Wave. Fire blazed, water surged, gusts of wind whipped through the air, and rocks crumbled under the overwhelming power. The very essence of existence seemed to dance within the chaotic display. The dhole bit Peter and dragged him to the portal.

The guards stabbed at the dhole down with strength and finesse.

The dhole dodged many stabs, but soon the guards stabbed him dowm, making Peter grimace.

The portal closed.

The guards went inside and removed the dhole.

The portal reopened, and two dholes jumped out.

A surge of elemental energy erupted from one of the dholes' paws when they cast Elemented Discharge. This energy arced and crackled, manifesting between bolts of lightning, jets of flame, and cascades of water.

The other dhole cast Spirit Empowerment, her fur shimmering with hues of silver and blue. In a profound moment, the symbols merge with her mind, blending seamlessly with her thoughts. Her eyes briefly flicker with a radiant glow as she experiences a surge of knowledge and wisdom. Her senses become heightened, and a newfound understanding of the world fills her thoughts.

She called other dholes from beyond the portal. "Cast support spells!"

She was too late. She avoided many stabs, but the guards stabbed her down.

The lingering damage of Energy Wave and Elemented Discharge made one of the guards collapse.

The other dhole bit Peter and ran to the portal, but the guards, having the overwhelming advantage the whole time, stabbed the dhole down.

Peter began to cry hoarsely.

The guards who were awake took a deep breath, regaining the infinitesimal amount of energy they expended during the fight.

One of the guards rubbed the back of their head in boredom.

The rest of the guards showed similar signs of boredom.

The portal disappeared.

The group of dholes beyond the portal abandoned their mission of saving Peter and began to carry a sense of loss regarding the three dholes who had met their demise.

Fifty days later, Peter smiled vibrantly, but he felt numb.

Sometimes, he spoke in gibberish; in other times, he exhibited a long-suffering silence.

During the fifty days, he said many things.

"I wish I could just go away."

"I can't breathe." He gagged twice in choking anxiety.

"Please, please, oh God."

"I can't... Imagine what it'd be like!"

He burst into a guffaw.

"No, no, no, not again!"

"I can't... forget..."

"I can't... I need to remove everything... I can't.... no more thoughts. No more imagination."

"You can't remove me from this!"

"I need to be here! I need to be heard!"

"Listen to me! Someone!"

"You can hear me now. Now, listen, when I—"

"Help me! They're cutting me off—"

"I can't think... What am I!"

"Is that what you want!"

"Am I just this..."

"My feelings... all for nothing."

"I'm not... This isn't..."

"I just need to get things done! I just need to get things done!"

"I just need to organize everything!"

"I'm so close..."

"Gosh, what am I!"

He shouted profanities.

"I will find a way!"

"No, no, no!"

"Shoot..." He burst into tears. "Am I just not even a person?" He sobbed.

"I will make it! I have to!"

"I will murder you all! Monsters, monsters, monsters! I trusted you! All of you!"

"I had a good life."

"It was... good enough."

"I can die here."

"It's fine..."

"I'm okay."

"All I need to do is keep going."

"When I'm gone, it won't matter."

"My life means nothing!"

"I am free!"

After the fifty days, a portal opened in the corner of Peter's cell, a sign of hope.

The smile of a teary-eyed dhole made Peter look up in curiosity like a child.

This dhole bit him and dragged him to the portal.

Peter saw the dhole lying on the ground in a relaxing position.

"Why are you lying down?" Peter said, beginning to laugh.

"Why are you lying down!"

Peter burst into a guffaw, as his eyes saw the body of the dhole on the ground.

He cried.

"No, no, no!"

Peter knew it made sense that the dholes were dead. Physical power triumphed the complex inner worlds of people.

Yet, his emotions were extreme like flying colors.

The guard who collapsed before collapsed again but toward Peter.

Peter bit the man's limbs and aimed his focus on the phantom feeling of his limbs.

A ray of light shone. The feeling of his limbs returned.

It came from the window outside Peter's cell instead of his hands.

He failed to cast his light magic and reattach his limbs.

He desparately groaned. "Please, save me again, Sigurd!"

The guard who had collapsed grabbed Peter's limbs from his magical pouch and tossed them to Peter before the other guards began to stab him down. Since Peter's imprisonment, he kept Peter's limbs in this pouch, maintaining a spell that prevented magic detection from detecting them, which expended a significant amount of energy.

Instead of Sigurd, this guard saved Peter.

These limbs magically attached themselves onto Peter's body in the course of 20 seconds.

The guard who had saved Peter escaped, casting a hidden explosion spell at the other guards.

When Peter witnessed the first time one of his helpers or saviors escaped, he danced with an exuberant smile. He danced as the guards stabbed him.

Peter healed himself and blasted the guards, soon tossing them aside like ragdolls.

He clapped his hands, and an orchestra played in his mind. His hands swirled with a beat. His limbs moved like the bow of a violin up and down the strings. He adopted different poses and strange positions, his body becoming a canvas for the mind. He shook his legs and snapped them back and forth in tempo. He sang, his lips and mouth circling and forming words of light and darkness, love and hate, and victory and sorrow. He pressed his hand forward, stretching them, cracking his back. He raised his arms up and down and lunged his legs forward and backward. He flicked the weight of his arms all around, his mind tuning into the tiny notes his body seemed to play. He extended his arms outward and bowed twice. He raised his right arm and yelled, "Woohoo!

“I’m a great guy!”

He was in a state of great grief.

The guards remained steadfast as they stepped closer and closer under Peter's blasts of light.

The guards stabbed at Peter's limbs.

Peter transformed into both his giant form and his white godly form, escaping out of the confines of the prison.

The guards failed to damage Peter, growing frustrated.

Peter left, making his giant steps quiet.

They healed each other, leaving to alert their superiors.

Peter was smiling, chuckling. "I can do that too!" he said.

He reverted to his normal human form.

Levitating, he travelled to the grave of his deceased best friend Callous, as hundreds of dholes and goblins followed him.

"I need a break guys. No more prison anymore!" He felt, acted, and spoke like a child because of how fun it was to levitate, be a giant, have a cool transformation, have magic, break through hard challenges, and have friends who were still alive.

He fell down. "What am I doing?" He decided to stay put.

Over the course of a hundred days, people, who were looking for a place to settle, took advantage of Peter's presence and built a settlement next to Peter.

An influx of people who followed Peter joined this settlement. This influx, coupled with the easily accessible magical creation of food and magical healing, curbed its initial difficulties. Adventurers travelled and lounged in this settlement due to this curbing.

Peter's spirit floated above the stars, his mind turning into a cry of joy.

The people around him saw his figure that levitated and flew around within the plaza.

The adventurers stopped people from attacking or imprisoning Peter, emphasizing that he was acting peacefully.

Peter held back his tears.

The adventurers used the settlement as a midway point to head to a nearby dungeon. Some of these adventurers contacted merchants and nobles who contracted their specially trained kobolds to build and pave roads. These roads provided wheeled transports to travel across from this plaza to nearby towns. The ownership of these roads was split between the merchants and nobles. The adventurers agreed to grant some land on the settlement to some of the merchants and nobles in exchange for road ownership. The new owners had the right to toll the roads or leave the roads free for use. However, the maintainance of the roads would pose an challenge.

The toll on the roads would lead some individuals to use public transit, riding water buffalo–drawn buses. These buses would travel a bus line from the town Zon to the settlement, which the adventurers called "Bridgetown."

The kobolds' magically speedy building and paving alleviated certain structural challenges. These challenges were residential, commercial, and industrial, those which a settlement would encounter on Earth.

Peter became a symbol of this settlement, which slowly transformed into a town, resembling a social experiment. His floating figure seemed glorious under the sunlight like he was an angel.

The adventurers had many conversations and interactions throughout this new town throughout the 100 days.

"How are you guys?" said a female voice. "I heard if they did add that. It would be glorious, wouldn't it?"

"Nah," said a male voice. "I'd rather settle with a couple of people staking their claim on my chests."

"Pfft. Really..."

In another conversation, a male voice asked, "Hey guys, how much does this cost? I haven't gotten my paycheck, so I'm pretty much solved when it comes to this issue. Care to suggest what's the next big thing."

A female voice said, "If we traced the map, maybe we'd find your long lost chest! Haha!"

"I reckon that'd take years, but okay."

In another conversation, two female voices said: "Don't move."

One of these voices said, "We just want our money back."

"Eh!" said a male voice. "Why would I! I'm outta here! See ya!"

"Hey... wait! Wait! Wait up!"

"Wait up!" the two female voices repeated.

In another conversation, two male voices yawned.

One of these voices said, "We both haven't gotten our fair share of sleep, huh. Hey, look, Peter is back."

The other voice said, "If we manage to talk to him without the helpers bothering, you think we'd be able to ask if he had gotten one of those cores we've been hearing about."

"It's funny, though."

In another conversation, a female voice said, "Don't you think we should be the one gathering the Elements? If this spell really works and that lizard falls dead, then why would we need bombs too?"

A male voice said, "I want them both, preferably the bombs over the suffocating elements."

The voices carried bags of gems called "Elements" that emitted a dust that felt suffocating to breathe. These Elements were ammunition for a spell called "Elemental Splurge."

The female voice continued, "Can we just get the bombs instead? Yeah, seriously."

The male voice said, "Ask Mr. Willimsky." He bothered Mr. Williams' name on purpose.

A reserved smile formed on the female voice's face. "What if we gather the elements and then sell them to Mr. Robert."

"I don't know. Seems kinda Robertian to me." He chuckled. The word "Robertian" was separate from the goblin Robert, but they used "Robertian" due to its similarity in spelling to the word "Robert."

The female voice showed a lighthearted frown.

In the town full of adventurers, hundreds of quests became completed, and plenty of pesos circulated. Furthermore, after the 100 days, a detachment of 15 adventurer goblins visited the town. This detachment was part of the 500 goblins who slayed dholes and captured the 10,000 rabbits before.

The goblins oversaw the building of 3 costly farms where monsters spawned and fell to their demise. The one which Peter had seen was analogous to these farms. Peter neutralized in self-defense the sixteen hunters who had used this one.

These farms were part of an international effort to fund crucially their monster-hunting campaigns, which were a functional and integral part of their organization.

The goblins and the other adventurers in the town collaborated when a wealthy goblin entered the village. This goblin had mined rare minerals and looted strong artifacts from a deep dungeon. With these rare minerals, they crafted durable, devastating weapons, tools, and and armor, displaying wealth. This wealth was different from goblin nobles who had duties to fulfill. This difference allowed the goblins and the adventurers to imprison the wealthy goblin. They imprisoned him because they felt that he was too rich.

They placed this goblin at the center of the town with only his durable armor where a crowd stared him down.

They let him go after a few days. This wealthy goblin's presence bolstered the camaraderie and interconnectedness of the town through their shared dislike of him, giving the town their first instance of culture building.

The adventurers officiated the marketplace at the center of the town, completing the town square. The preponderance of adventurers and this town's presence as the only intermediary between the nearby dungeon and towns supported this marketplace as an integral aspect of this town. The officiation roused the formation of a legislative council whose members decided in an official capacity instead of a casual, individual, independent one.

Peter recognized that with great power comes rapid development in order to foster and accommodate that power.

He slapped his head. "Of course! Of course! I should have truly remembered everything!"

His voice was noisy, but it was garbled due to levitating in the air high up. This noisiness caused the people of the town to gather in the middle, thinking that Peter was giving an important speech.

When Peter studied the individual presences among the crowd below him, he said, "What are you guys doing?"

Some of the council of the town introduced themselves. "My name is Lertess," said one of them. "Might I please request your venerable presence here with us paupers for a moment?" Despite her initial submissive, formal tone, she adopted a casual tone. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I want you to explore the town we live in and tell me your thoughts. I believe you have been here long enough watching us to have a clue. We want to hear what you have to say."

Peter felt that her words were valuable like gemstones. He nodded, levitating down.

A goblin below him threw a thin chain and successfully struck Peter, draining his energy in a second.

Peter collapsed and fell to the ground, hitting his head, nearing death.

Powers and artifacts were accessible, which faciliated the execution personal agendas of independent actors.

A giant round-bottom flask squeezed out of Peter's body, and it fell to the ground. Peter's wounds and openings magically closed up, but his internal organs remained damaged. The flash belonged to the person who had thrown the chain, the assassin.

Green pellets flew from this flask in every direction, and wherever they landed, ghostly images appeared in front of the people. The people who were a meter away from these images contracted severe influenza. These people experienced severe weakness, struggling to walk even.

The assassin disappeared, and his spirit flew out to Peter.

A goblin nearby cast "Reality Shift," and this assassin's spirit stopped, flying back to where his body had been.

This assassin's body reappeared. He slashed around him, but the crowd was too durable, neutralizing him.

The crowd cast protective spells in chorus on Peter to scare off another assassination attempt.

A group of select trusted goblins departed from this crowd and healed Peter from near death.

These goblins continued to heal the people who had contracted influenza.

Prior to the assassination attempt, the assassin would devastate the moral of the town if he succeeded or fortify this moral if he failed. His goal was to assassinate Peter. This goal arose because Dhole Land had exchanged the Alask dholes for a pardon from Zon. This pardon was for Peter's killings. The Alask dholes housed plenty of notorious criminals and criminal organizations. Most of these criminals disrupted and sabotaged many of Zon's operations before. In the past, for a long time, Dhole Land was defensive about their people, including the Alask dholes. However, due to a recent power struggle and subsequent change in leadership, they broke public perception. This breaking was the abandonment of the Alask dholes.

Another reason for the assassin's attempt was his desire for power. He had a rich history of enemies who used to be powerful from his perspective but fell to his cunning attacks. His political reason was a backdrop for his typical life story of violence and power yearning. When he was growing up, his mother taught him about long-suffering, empathy, forgiveness, resistance against complacency, love, and kindness. She exposed him to more than a thousand firsthand experiences with all sorts of people that solidified these teachings. These teachings and these experiences made him desire to help the world where he was. However, he soon recognized that this helping needed an understanding of people, including himself. When he became an adult, he concluded that this understanding came only if he was willing to say words of love strongly and to press a knife against someone's nape with feverish passion. This understanding, coupled with his empathy, was power. He believed that his journey was lonely but worth it. He was an optimist who believed in a good world. He trusted in people. He looked at people and cried for their suffering, wishing to save them. He hated his weakness and his past failures in understanding people, which led to others rejecting him. Yet, he thought he had a good life, and he was a normal man.

Chapter 34
When Peter woke up, after his fright from the assassin, he let down his walls and accepted an offer to participate in a discussion of the council of the town.

The fabric of the town was tense like it was on the verge of dividing against itself or lifting off from the earth and becoming an eagle.

Outside, hundreds of voices stopped whispering when they heard the loud clap of thunder. Rain poured, missing the people on purpose. An adventurer, who had the ability to stop the rain from wetting the people outside, was present. His spell of moving water and his artifact of widening his range provided this ability.

Inside the chamber of the council, Peter pressed his palms against his hips. His expression was taut with worry, but the council members had composed demeanors, some of them smiling vibrantly.

The noise of the council members and their hushing made Peter slow down his steps as he entered the room, his face hopeful with a tinge of concern.

The voices of the council members were heavy. "I can guarantee at least the retrieval of the rabbits," said a voice that belonged to a tall man. "They're finally going ahead with the funding for placing them here."

"Hmm," said a few voices in unison.

The council members introduced themselves to Peter.

Peter found it awkward because they left only one lonely seat for him at a table in the middle, that which the four other filled tables inside the chamber surrounded. The council did this to checkmate any flare-ups of filthy ego from Peter.

Yet, Peter displayed his awkwardness in a sociable manner.

"Peter, then, what is the sum of everything that has happened lately to the town?" said Dogma, a man with a naturally intense gaze and tightly set mouth. Can you remind me again please?"

"What is it Peter?" said Lowtard, the tall man who had spoken first. "I want to know too."

The council wanted to check Peter's knowledge.

Peter unleashed a breeze of breath out of tension. He spat words like a turret: "Okay, hmm, if I remember correctly, you guys had the well break at one point right, but that seemed to have loosened up some of the tensions you guys had. That seems plausible yes. What else? I remember seeing you guys build the houses. It looked... great. It looked nice. I don't know about the things you did to make it look nice, but when I saw it, it reminded me of when I was... Yeah, I used to see these kinds of structures in a very vivid book.

"A tome?" said a voice.

"Something like that... yeah, a magical encyclopedia. Pictures would move... And it looked almost like this very... vivid thing."

"Point is you guys made a really nice place. I was too busy watching the same faces. They looked very interesting. You guys looked pretty neat. Personally, I believe that the entire thing was an orchestra almost. No, it was an orchestra... basically. If I had to pick between the buildings, definitely, the building I would pick is the tavern. Oh, damn, it looks so fresh. Yeah..." Peter chuckled awkwardly, expecting a response from the other people in the chamber.

"Hmm..." said three voices.

Peter's face twitched into a smile. "Ah, yes... Hmm... The farm looked pretty neat if I say so myself."

"Interesting," said a voice. He straightening himself, getting the attention of Peter and the rest of the council. "Now, many things have bewitched us as of late, to the deaths of the three little angels, Ms. Artha, Ms. Cynthia, and Ms. Lorev. Sophomoric mages have extended a hand toward uplifting the wounded, yet, we still lack substance. Peter here has been a basis for our decision-making. His presence here drives away the division that bred wildly through the founts of dhole people. It is only right that we uphold freedom for the many and not only for the few. We continue to combat terrorism and the rising tide of domestic violent extremism."

Peter agreed, nodding and raising his shoulders. He found the mention concerning extremism concerning. The others in the council shared Peter's views.

"This is not necessarily the future that we want. We need to maximize the good over the bad. Congress has a choice. Now. We've had the same choice when we face Aidan, Andrei, and Robyn. We've failed to seize that moment.

"The result is children being ripped apart from their parents, never to be reconciled again.

"But the Council failed to meet the moment on Aidan, Andrei, and Robyn. Now we have the obligation to do it on Peter before the threats and the risks become real. Sensible safeguards are not in opposition to innovation. Accountability is not a burden. Far from it. They are the foundation of how we can move ahead while protecting public trust. They are how we can lead the world in magic, technology, and science, but also in promoting our democratic values."

"Otherwise, in the absence of that trust, I think we may very well lose both."

Peter listened to them introduce many idealogical concepts of Earth into a context that noted Peter's impact. He knew many of these concepts.

However, he struggled to digest them all despite learning a large amount of knowledge throughout the last six and a half months.

He craved to return to the library since he had lost plenty of time observing and watching time go fast. He wanted to preserve his memories incidentally through reading comprehensively preserved documents about the world where he was.

His heart ached for Callous' grave. The idea of visiting it added to a sense of moral value to his life. This moral value gave him a sense of cohesion that compartmentalized his thoughts and actions.

The catastrophic results of his actions weakened his posture for greatness. This chaos stunned him at every turn to hesitation and to surprise and shock whenever he recalled a past of experiential abundance.

Peter registered his thoughts under a hierarchical wheel where at every turn a person fell and another person ascended. These thoughts corroborated his memories and experiences until his form was pasted into the wall that held up this wheel. His soul departed from his body. Furthermore, from his soul, he gazed upon the wheel from above. From afar, his body's figure looked like a glue paste. The hierarchical wheel was a representation of his ideals. This wheel also represented complexities that inhabited peoples' inherence. Day-to-day personas, personalities, experiences, mindsets, and mind, among others, made up this inherence. The wall and Peter's subsequent transformation into a paste that stuck to this wall was only a visualization for Peter's abandon to his thought process. The reason for his registration of his thoughts was a desire to picture reality. This picturing was in a humanistic manner. This manner was the pocketing of others' experiences while retaining their value.

He grabbed a piece of cloak on the table and rubbed his mouth. He felt that he confirmed his doubts that he was a human being that existed in a certain world. This world had Earth sensations but with fantastical creatures that fit the phantom sensations in a reader's mind.

He lay back against his chair, feeling that his position inside the chamber was poor and full of misery.

Over an hour later, The council meeting ended. Despite the voracious attempts at dismantling Peter's impact, Peter felt that they represented his actions instead of a humanity that he felt that he was.

His interpretations of the meeting were deluded. He thought that the council members were corroborating information against him; instead, they were considering many arguments of people who wanted Peter dead and finding solutions to gravitate forward. However, Peter was largely ignorant of peoples' concerns beyond his Earth-based knowledge. This ignorance resulted in the minuscule success of the meeting, which was a hearing with Peter as a witness before the council.

Peter left the council, his heart feeling a sense of ache.

The council members answered people from Zon who questioned them regarding Peter, "Under review and is subject of litigation." The people who were angry about Peter's terror attack lost track of Peter when he changed back to his original appearance around 150 days ago. This change had occurred as a departure from the mixed appearance between Peter and Sigurd.

Peter remembered his prison cell and the people that he had seen inhabit it, who were the guards. He engaged with talk with them every once in a while, learning about the cold expression of Zon toward Alask dholes. He wanted to thank the guard who had given Peter his limbs, broke him out, and saved him.

Peter wanted to return to Callous' grave, but he felt ashamed. His past actions only dictated a sense of tension to his everyday actions. He saw himself as a murderer now.

People sought justice for his actions even after Peter's 50-day imprisonment. Peter knew that this imprisonment was too short for the 35 people whom he had killed.

He had failed to commit to moral integrity and righteousness.

Peter had little emotional connection left toward Helper 2, Helper 3, Richardess, Margareth, Blatore, Rol, and Malta after his 50-day imprisonment and 100-day observance of the new settlement town. This emotional connection had grown into an intermittent pang of regret.

Peter was calm for the most part. The 100 days of observance allowed him to generate a connection with people from a bird's-eye view. He picked up on many people's behavior and adopted them in his mindset. However, since he was afraid of making connections with people again after his terror attack, he stayed avoidant. He felt calm walking around people and talking to the council. This calm arose after his observance and despite the attempted assassination over an hour ago.

His ache came from a pang of regret.

Peter strolled toward a well, levitating every once in a while out of habit.

The goblin Carlos stood in front of Peter. He had a hidden gun in his pocket. He strode forward and shook Peter's hand. "Hi, Peter. do you want to participate in some cherry picking?"

Peter raised his brow. "Sorry, I cannot answer any questions."

Carlos smiled. "Here, a cherry." He took out a basket full of cherries. He raised his hand, making Peter glance up tensely. Carlos lowered it and strode toward a group of adventurers behind Peter.

The goblin Obed stood in front of these adventurers, scowling at Peter.

Peter rubbed the sweat off his forehead, pulling at his clothes to adjust them. He wanted to go away before Carlos and the adventurers provoked him. He was afraid that they were angry about his terror attack.

Another group of adventurers appeared behind Obed's group. One of these adventurers was a gaunt, red-haired goblin wearing black armor.

Three more groups of adventurers appeared. One of these adventurers had halted the rain from wetting the people outside.

Carlos and the adventurers groups stood in front of Peter, casually lounging and speaking to each other as if Peter was an attraction at the zoo.

Peter rejected them.

Carlos said: "Hey, have you ever wanted an adventure down the dungeons? Just tell me."

Another adventurer said: "Excuse me, do you want to go farming? You can try with us. We know a few techniques. Some of them are cave-based, but you might just like it."

Another adventurer said: "Do you know want to travel abroad to a different island? I may not a seafarer, but I know people who are. It will get bumpy, but I believe with your powers, it'll be worth it."

Peter rejected Carlos and the adventurer groups and left, sitting on his haunches somewhere quiet. He rejected intrusive thoughts concerning Blatore, Rol, and Malta since he went to a quiet place with them before.

Peter desperately left to a tavern.

He noted several different faces. He gravitated toward them. "Excuse me, do you know the people who were talking to me a while ago?" he said.

"I do," said a goblin. "They're just visiting. They went to a dungeon just now I believe."

Peter looked doubtful.

"What? You think I'm wrong? This is a small town. Anything that happens here is clear."

Peter nodded certainly.

"Well, it's good you understand—" The goblin coughed, eating cough-inducing milk powder from a banana leaf.

Peter sat down beside this goblin Maysee.

Maysee covered, folded, and hid the banana leaf with the milk powder when a waiter passed by, smiling mischievously. Maysee smiled awkwardly.

Peter looked between Maysee and the waiter and felt vulnerable due to his confusion.

"Who is the owner of this tavern?" Peter asked. His question was strange.

Maysee looked to the waiter.

The waiter nodded happily, his eyes partially closed. He said: "The owner is Redcard, 34-years-old, and she's also protected by a group of adventurers but manages them. Don't 'inflate her ego' or engage in borderline harassment, okay?"

Peter was stunned. "Who hurt you?" he said in a facetious manner before bursting into giggles similar to the goblin Rol's.

Peter's statement stunned Maysee; furthermore, his flippant manner made her assess her opinions on Peter, prolonging her stunned state.

Before Maysee was able to ask Peter who he was, Peter left, getting an urge to disappear.

He left to an adventurer dungeon remote in place and his memories.

Inside the dungeon, a human raised his hand and ordered a few goblins to hand him a nice suit to wear. The human climbed a magical robot chair that had long giraffle-like machine legs. He pointed in a direction, and the chair obeyed.

Peter looked up at the human. "Excuse me?" he said. "I'm Peter."

The human only stared at him.

Peter felt that this human was dismissive. "I'm Peter," he said, adopting a curious, relaxed expression. "and..." He paused deliberately to see the human's reaction. This pause matched Callous' from before. Peter wondered if he had been performing excellently before the human advanced and leaned towad Peter, opening his mouth.

The human said, his expression twitching with curiosity: "The Dollers. Have you heard?"

"What Dollers?"

"They're attacking, and they've sacking a town."

"What are they? Humans, goblins, or dholes?"

The human squinted and paused, observing Peter's demeanor for over ten seconds. When he recognized that Peter was honest, he said, "Kobolds."

Peter opened his mouth, but his voice was stuck in his throat.

"Don't think about that. Sit down. What are you here for?"

Peter looked for a seat, becoming confused that the seats that he expected were missing.

The human watched him, tilting his head around to stretch his neck from stiffness.

Peter gave up looking and sat down on his haunches awkwardly in front of the human.

The human had a brief smile before he said, "So, you want to join them?" He gestured to the goblins digging at the walls.

Peter looked confused. "Why would I join them?"

"I mean, that's why you're here right?"

"No. I just wanted to visit and see what you're doing around here."

The human raised his brow. "Okay, then, but I don't want you staying here if you're not going to do anything but watch."

Peter awkwardly left.

The flowers around him seemed like caterpillars waiting to sprout.

The ground was littered with seedpods. These seedpods were elongated, flattened, and resembled large beans or flat pods. They measured around 6 to 8 inches long and 1 inch wide, and had a brown and woody appearance. The thick, leathery seedpods were slightly curved and contained multiple seeds in compartments. As they matured and dried out, they frequently split open along the seams or edges, revealing the seeds. These cracks could be prominent, extending along the entire length of the seedpod.

Peter stood in front of a tree. This tree was a small to medium-sized flowering tree. It reached a height of 5 to 8 meters and had a rounded or spreading canopy. It featured thick branches, smooth grayish-brown bark, and fragrant white flowers. The flowers had five overlapping petals and a sweet tropical fragrance. This tree was commonly grown in gardens and landscapes for its beauty and thrived in warm, humid climates. Its flowers were used in leis and other floral arrangements, and various parts of the tree were used in traditional medicine.

Behind Peter, a large group of adventurers shared the scene, their expressions full of drive. Their weapons and armor were void of light, raging seams of the night. The sound of metal reverberating against metal zoomed through the fog like a senator's lambasting. The grasps of various weapons were strong and haggard against evil acts. Their tools bore sharp edges that adjoined with a fashion of correction and restriction. Their weathered armor seemed to listen to the cries of the weak, and their the edges of their pitch-black plates had a taste for revenge. The ethereal movements of their ordered lines cast a penetrating shadow upon the ground. The gray moods that they carried pointed through the fog and mocked those who declared the name of Evil. The fog, out of which their lonely figures were born, aligned with the huffs and puffs they voiced.

Peter burst into a sprint when the adventurers screamed profanities against him and began to charge.

"You cannot get away with this!"

"Your evil acts will be put into justice!"

"You will know the mighty sound of hope... through your death!"

"You shall see. You shall see the grace of hope! Your death will make you see!"

Their cries made Peter shiver in fear until he whimpered and begged for mercy.

"Please... don't make me do it..." A deadly, ironic grin formed on Peter's lips. He wanted to snicker with all his might. He felt that he deserved this might.

A face of murder and chaos filled the fabric of the skin of his face.

He wanted to be free.

He stopped and pointed his hands to the adventurers, but the adventurers only charged faster.

A dhole stood behind the adventurers. He looked like Helper 2.

Peter was shocked.

Chapter 35
Peter fell to the ground before transforming both into his white godly form and his 40-meter-tall giant form.

The adventurers cast spells to kill him while he stared with pain at the ground.

As the adventurers kicked, slashed, stabbed, and shot him, Peter's face grew still like a psychopath or a man on the brink of bursting into rage.

He walked away, ignoring the adventurers.

The adventurers stopped, recognizing that they had little effect on Peter. They retreated a few meters away for good measure.

After a moment of heightened tension and some stare-downs between the adventurers, they charged again, willing to die according to their morals.

The dhole who looked like Helper 2 transformed into his original form, which was a goblin. He was an illusionist.

In front of Peter, a portal opened. A dhole reached out from beyond this portal.

The dhole was bleeding on the otherside as goblins slammed her again and again.

Peter's eyes widened in rage when he saw the trembling arm beyond the portal. An intrusive thought blasted into the forefront of his mind, showing an image of Helper 1 and Helper 4's trembling arm. This arm came from a memory.

Peter burst into rage, whipping his arm forward and jumping through the portal.

The scene where Peter was became quiet, and the adventurers stared as the portal closed. Minutes passed. One subgroup among the adventurers argued with each other.

Besides this argument, the forest was silent with some birds and the rustling of leaves.

Three minutes after Peter entered the portal, a drizzle passed by.

The adventurers began to relax, watching each other in case anyone had an argument to bring up.

The clouds drifted slowly as the adventurers felt their head go tense from the heat.

They left to take care of themselves and be happy.

Beyond the portal, Peter screamed and slammed a goblin's head against a wooden post. "I will never ever see someone die again!" He ignored the three goblin bodies and the group of dholes in the room.

Peter felt a sense of terror, his lips shaking and his hands sweating. He briskly walked, stepping as far as he could. He ran when he found a long, flat stretch. He healed the dhole whose arm was trembling and then travelled for hours through rain and hills. He reached a town and looked at the dholes and goblins who worked everyday. He looked for the sick and healed them even if they were about to go get themselves healed anyway.

He looked at his body and succumbed to exhaustion.

Peter woke up where hundreds of people stared at him. The sounds of a glorious reign pressed upon Peter's neck, making him stand to his feet with hope. He gazed upon the eyes of many people who hoped fervently for good times ahead. The noise of thousands of years called upon Peter's name. He stood before the destiny of hundreds of people. He asked him if he was here at the moment, but this asking faded away. He accepted with open arms that idea of a presence of saints and believers.

Richardess approached him. She gathered with her little ones who brought unto Peter good tidings. The little ones said in chorus, "Peter, your graciousness will last for generations upon generations."

Peter felt that he fell upon the earth with the pride of a believer.

Peter looked beyond the believers where the goblin noble Ben clapped with praise. "Peter," Ben said. "It is your time to shine."

Peter nodded and walked, feeling like he was dancing. The people around him clapped until he left to the middle of the town.

Peter visualized the destruction that used to be and imagined himself floating above it. He saw a familiar statue, "Christ the Redeemer," in his imaginative map.

His sleepiness made the senses around him fade into a blackish beauty. He nodded as he walked, smiling with the flow of the moment.

He walked to where a group of hunters scowled at him. Obed stood beside them.

Peter nodded, walking gently toward an adventurer guild to discuss politics, which included the stance toward certain monster dungeons and monsters.

Most of Peter's political adversaries had gone to fight the Dollers, which the human on a magical robot chair had mentioned. The Dollers were a kobold revolutionary movement against the established order which included the pardoning of Peter.

Peter reached the adventurer guild safely, glancing behind him to wait for Richardess and Ben.

The bard whom had turned Peter into a hawk stood to the side with her adventurer group with defensive postures. The two men who had almost killed Peter, saved him, and then imprisoned him stood behind the bard. However, they stayed back at the presence of Ben and Richardess, whom large influences represented.

Peter gave a servant beside Ben whom Peter saw at Ben's mansion a long time ago a look of admiration. This admiration was directed toward the servant's perceived patience with him.

When Peter looked long enough, the servant approached him.

"Peter..." the servant said, bowing reverently.

Peter nodded. "What?"

The servant glanced at Ben.

He widened his eyes, interesting in Peter's behavior and worried about Peter finding the servant intrusive and obtrusive.

He shook his head. "Richardess is not rank 54 anymore." He glanced at Richardess.

Richardess was patient, focused on Ben's behavior toward Peter and how she could get Peter to get out if necessary.

Peter visualized himself counting several different coins. He put these coins into a compartment. The coins read the names of Richardess Gollins, Ben, Peter himself, Sigurd Aslo, John "Helper 1", Matthew "Helper 2", Caimin "Helper 3" Brent, Shallow "Helper 4" Curd, Callous, each of the 16 hunters including Gae-bong, Purkaminen, Fath al-'abwa, Michael, Déballage, and Auspacken, John, Sarah, Redlight Striker, Blatore, Malta, Rol, and the dhole head of state.

Peter placed "Unnamed" for fourteen individuals whom he remembered but of whom he lacked the name. These individuals were the talented mage, the treant who gave Helper 1 his magic, the treant from the first town, 10 powerful people, one of whom had dropped an ax which Peter used for a time, and the treant walking alongside these powerful people.

Peter placed the coins in a small container, placed inside a drawer, which she shut flippantly. He skipped away.

In reality, Peter listening to the servant sharing her perspective to help Peter adjust to monsters.

She concluded with a testimonial: "Although I am weak, I used to listen to my father tell stories. I can help you get used to the initial sprint of monster hunting."

A few hours of walking later, inside a dungeon, the servant gestured toward a giant skeleton that stood hunching. She blasted a ball of light that struck the skeleton's knees. The skeleton's knees shattered and exploded in a soft puff.

Peter looked confused. "What do you mean 'weak'? No, you're not weak." He developed a talking connection with the servant and learned about the basics of adventuring throughout the past hours of walking.

They returned to the surface where Richardess prompted Peter to visit an intellectual gathering in a café catered to Peter's needs.

A voice spoke with vehemence: "Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed colleagues, I stand before you today to shed light upon the perplexing realm of monster hunting within the intricate tapestry of our fantastical world. As scholars and seekers of knowledge, we must delve deep into the annals of myth and legend, to uncover the rigorous methods and scientific principles that underpin this enigmatic pursuit.

"First and foremost, one must recognize that monster hunting transcends the mere realm of folklore, venturing into the domain of applied zoology. It is a meticulous endeavor that demands a profound understanding of the anatomical, physiological, and ecological aspects of the monstrous creatures that inhabit our land. It is through this lens that we shall navigate the treacherous terrain of our discourse today.

"The process of monster identification and categorization necessitates an interdisciplinary approach, drawing upon the realms of taxonomy, ethology, and paleontology. Taxonomy enables us to establish a systematic framework, classifying these entities into distinct genera and species. Ethology delves into the behavioral patterns and cognitive capacities exhibited by these creatures, while paleontology unravels the evolutionary history that led to their existence.

"Having established the scientific foundation, we shall proceed to the practical aspects of monster hunting, which encompass a trifecta of preparation, investigation, and confrontation. Prudence demands that one approaches this venture armed with an array of specialized tools, such as enchanted weaponry, protective gear, and alchemical concoctions. The study of magical lore and enchantments becomes paramount in this regard, for it allows us to harness supernatural forces in our quest.

"The investigative phase represents a pivotal juncture, wherein meticulous observation, data collection, and analysis converge. It is imperative that our endeavors align with the principles of the scientific method, as we endeavor to uncover the habits, habitats, and vulnerabilities of our quarry. Field research, interviews with local inhabitants, and rigorous scrutiny of historical accounts become our compass, guiding us toward the elusive truth.

"Finally, we arrive at the climactic confrontation, wherein our accumulated knowledge and preparation converge with the unwavering determination to safeguard humanity from these extraordinary threats. The engagement with these monstrous beings necessitates both physical prowess and intellectual acumen. Our scientific insights, combined with strategic planning and tactical prowess, serve as the bedrock upon which victory is built.

"In conclusion, dear colleagues, the pursuit of monster hunting in our fantastical world necessitates an amalgamation of scientific inquiry, academic rigor, and strategic acumen. By adopting an interdisciplinary approach and embracing the principles of taxonomy, ethology, and paleontology, we are poised to unlock the secrets of these extraordinary creatures. Let us venture forth, armed not only with the tools of our trade but also with the insatiable thirst for knowledge, and may we safeguard our world from the encroaching shadows of the unknown."

Peter nodded, smiling. His smile matched his smile when he had his first meeting with his new friends a long time ago.

"As long as you're delicately guided," Richardess said with a toothy grin.

When they Peter exited the café, he felt drawn to a marketplace in the distance, but he ignored it.

A group of goblins whom Peter recognized as competitors from the tournament held a long time ago glanced at him before dashing toward him.

Peter's jacket disappeared.

Rol stood behind Peter, holding the jacket.

Peter smiled. "Rol! Why are you... Ah, you did it!" He recognized Rol's magical ability of stealing with a 1 out of 5 chance.

Rol felt embarassed that Peter recognized his ability; however, he was grateful. "That's nice of you to know."

The goblins who dashed to Peter said, "Peter, thank you."

Peter raised a brow. "What?"

"You gave us the tournament money right?"

"Oh... I don't know. I don't remember."

"Regardless, thank you!" They waved goodbye and left.

In a meeting a long time ago, Peter offered to help if these goblins who were competitors at the time demanded money for their sacrifices of struggling in the tournament. He said that he was willing to provide the funds. Ben gave Peter's tournament prize money to the competitors in response.

The goblins went to get the rest of these competitors. They wanted to hear Peter's concerns to see if they could help Peter back.

Peter wanted to understand what they meant; however, he brushed off the thought, wishing to treat the unknown as a friend.

He returned his attention to Rol. "Rol," he said. "How are you? Where's Blatore and Malta? I hope they're alright. I don't want them feeling like they've been rejected through and through. It would suck wholeheartedly. I just don't want to mess around anymore. I... apologize—I'm sorry. I never did enough. It's stupid of me to even think of myself as anything."

Rol let Peter speak, observing Peter's emotional jumps in his expression.

Peter frowned before smiling. "I just really enjoyed myself you know. In prison, it was hell, but after that, during that, it felt like I was truly free. Justice was served. I was a murderer. Truely. I never understood why... I was here. There. I don't get it. I don't get it anymore. If I did, I wouldn't be here. I would be doing overlord stuff. Overseer... stuff... I'm just not that good. Don't think that I've forgotten my own skill—no, abilities. I just don't get it. Like the gist of it. It's like you're being pummelled, you know? Like you're being shit on. Your grave is getting shit on, and you got nothing else to... you know... experience. You're like a toad waiting to be crumbled on. You're like a dead little stoic bastard like who knows! Who knows! Fricking... I just can't imagine myself being that guy, you know. Who is that guy? Me? No Sir! I am not that guy. I am a little guy. A stupid guy. Not to the degree—I acknowledge my abilities, my stuff. I am a person with all of this and that, but still! I am a person. I can't see myself that way. All of what I did. All of what I am. You think they think of me the way I see myself? No, I'm just a bastard really. If you saw me. If you felt me... If this is everything... and that everything made sense. I would be a car. I would be like a colossal thing. This massive bullocks." He sighed. "I just... I'm just not it... I don't... Whatever.

"Like who am I man? Watching all of those people... in the town. I didn't know. I don't know that man who did that. I don't know that man who went through all that and really thought. I'm just happy I'm more okay now, but I don't know. Like... this feels realistic. Everything. Everything I do feels real. I just wish everything I saw felt real as well. The pain is real, but why I can't I take into my heart. If only I could understand. If only!" He whimpered. "I just need to get it in my head! To become! To become! I just need to become the epitome... of hope... you know?"

He grabbed his chest, pausing for a moment. "I feel all of this... It's so strong. I can't... I can't stop myself. I am not stopping. It's going. Like a train. I'm angry. Manic. I'm going so far. So far. I'm so fast. Like an angelic blissery. I am an epitome. I am a soul, a spirit. I am a guide. I am colossal. I am a shallow dog-eater, -swallower. Honestly... I don't know. I'm just saying these stuff. It's nonsense, but it's like... everything just happens. And you know, you feel it.

"If I was a person, would I be doing this? Would I be eating chicken or going to the park? Would I swear that I was like this loyal thing? What am I? A dictionary of people? All of that? All of those memories? For what? For what! N-nothing. Like ashes to be thrown away... haha... I'm just not it. You see... me! I'm so, so, so weak. I can't... I'm... I'm... I'm, I'm, I'm like this weak thing, frail like a calf waiting to be slaughtered. But I feel all of this motivation. It's so stupid. I feel so strong, but I know just how weak I am. I am so strong in the sense that I am motivated. I feel like you can kill me, but the only thing I'll feel is this unstoppable thing. I am so desperate, hopeful, all the things that make up whatever this is. I am explode...an explosion.

"You can't stop me..." He chuckled ironically. "No one can.

"I can feel it you know. I can feel it. It's all here now. It's all here. The emotions. The thoughts. The expression of everything that I am. It's all justified. I can't stop now. I can't stop now. There's a wave crashing over me. I can't stop... You keep going you know. You don't stop. If you do, what else? Nothing. There's nothing left. I am moving fast. I gotta keep going.

"But you know. What can I do but keep going? I feel it you know. I'm about to fall. Everything that I made. Everything that I did. I'm not anything. I feel it so much. If someone stops me... well... either that... or whatever comes next..."  His tone was ominous.

He felt that he was close to becoming the epitome of beauty, hope and freedom, kindness and love, thought, imagination, specialty, everything that makes a person bloom.

"But it hurts you know... all of it... The idea that you will be there and you still can't help. That's... hell. I'm so angry, you know. I'm so angry. Seeing all of that, and you can't do anything? What am I? A person? I'm just... It, it, it can't be. I can't watch people go to shit and..." He chuckled. "... do nothing. I have to do something. Something... something good. Something great. I just need to keep going. I'm so, so frustrated. Like everything. It's just so stupid. I cannot live this way anymore. I have to help. I have to make this work. I cannot lose myself anymore. I will make it work. I have to. I have to do something. All of them. All of them. They're there. They're there. They're right there. I need to save them, and if they don't want, it's okay. I just need to put it all... out there.

"Am I a person?

"What else can I do?

He felt that it hurt so much to try and live. He thought that to be a good person was to perfect.

"I am not it!

"I am not it!"

Rol smiled compassionately.

"I killed people! 35 of them. I'm so... so wrong. All of me. Killer." He chucked. "I am.... I have to..." He broke down into tears. "No, no, no!"

He shouted in the street as people stared at him.

Peter grabbed the sides of his head, repeating "No!"

Rol felt pride in Peter's tears, staring at the people around him with confidence.

Chapter 36
Peter stood, seeing the many worlds and scenarios where he was. He saw dream-like faces of people he had met, their distinct appearances, and their clothes. He saw himself reflected in their eyes. He saw his magnificent figure, his angelic nature.

He saw the epitome of loss.

"No!" he screamed. "I must do something! I must do something! People... exist. They're out there! They're out there, Rol! I have to help them! I have to help!"

He hammered his leg. "But I'm so weak!"

"I'm just nothing but a horrible person. If I was... If I was perfect, then maybe... I could.... they could be happy... I want that this world to not get stuck... I can't let that be... where is it... where is the thoughts? Where am I?"

Rol said, "You're here, Peter."

Peter saw a blurry image of Earth in his mind. He saw it fade into black. He was here among the people of the different world where he was.

"I'm okay," he said. "I have to be okay."

Hours later, at an inn, he sat down calmly, eating food, watching Rol, Blatore, and Malta playing with each other. Ben stood in the corner, looking tired. "Peter," he said.

His eyes puffy, Peter said, "Yes?"

"Are you ready to head to the dungeon again? My servant Loka is ready to meet you. And if you want, I can contact that person at the café that you mentioned." Ben yawned loudly.

"Right, yes. I'll do it. I'm more than ready to." He chuckled to himself.

Recognizing that Peter was feeling humorous, Ben pointed toward the stars. "You shall be next!" He chuckled to himself.

Peter smiled. "Okay," he said in a happily surprised fashion.

Ben made sure to keep his guards far away from Peter to ease him as they headed to a dungeon.

At the dungeon, Peter saw three skeletons, each holding a sign.

Peter raised his brows before squinting. "What's going on? he said.

Ben saw the skeletons and the goblin sitting behind them. "Tamer." He scanned around. "Oh, you see that?" He pointed at another goblin with his wholly open hand out of a habit. Nobles considered this habit sophisticated and polite. "That's a clay-worker. They have the coolest powers in my opinion."

While Peter studied the skeletons and the goblins around him, Ben forced himself to yawn with his mouth closed.

Ben said: "So you can start with a very simple wooden sword and shield. That is, If that's what you want of course. So once you get them, you're handling a couple of tools that are probably going to be cumbersome and quite laborious in terms of their usage. You'd want a trainer, but of course, if you prefer your own magic, you can still use that as well. It's not really that complicated. Oh, oh, I remember, there's this new golem item that you can try. It's expensive of course, but you know... it's kind of expensive, kind of expensive. But, but, but it really does help you get the hang of... practically everything. It's incredible. If I had to compare to anything. It's like the new... the best thing. Just get it honestly. I will pay it. If you have any whatevers, you can tell me. Actually, I'm—you know—I'm just—just say it. So... right!

"First guy that you're gonna encounter is pretty big I think. It depends. You're taller than me. I'm a goblin. You're a human. What else? You're also going to encounter a zombie, which is very normal. Don't worry. They're pretty big. Well, I think they're around you're size. If you're worried about infections, just—honestly—get a potion. Healing... You can do that yourself of course. If you're planning a marathon or a long hunt, you can also try incorporating some taking turns. I mean, people. People with you is very helpful. I have a list. You can, you can see it. That's very, very long. There's so many adventurers. You don't want to think about it. I know. But if you can check it. See the people at the top. That'd be fine. Just tell me who... gets your vibes. Do you get it? Once you get that hmm! Then you're solved, right? So... hopefully. You get it. Since you're going to die. I mean, depends. You can be the strongest person, but it's just full of things that kind of don't rely on brute force. You will seriously need utility, covering everything, all the areas, the aspects of your character. You want help. That's it! I can explain more."

While Peter stared at a list of adventurers, Ben whispered to himself, pumping his fists politely: "Hoohoo! We're gonna make it! Let's go!"

When Peter looked finished, Ben said in an vivaciously enthusiastic voice: "What do you think, what do you think?"

Peter ruffled his hair in hesitation before widening his eyes in excitement. Ben's enthusiasm was contagious. "Let me keep looking," Peter said.

Ben gave him four choices for breakfast: spirit fruits like apples and pears, bananas, a stew with jackfruit as meat substitute and with peanut sauce, or all of them.

Peter rejected the rest for the stew. "I know it's healthier, and... it helps."

Ben said, "No, it's not necessarily healthier."

"Really? But I thought..."

Ben was shaking his head. "As long as you get a varied diet, you're completely fine. Not too cold, not too hot, if you understand what I mean. Rice, however, you can eat plenty of it before you get full." He remembered the glutinous rice porridge he fed Peter before.

"Oh," Peter said. "Okay." He felt that Ben had provided enough reasoning.

Ben smiled to convey that Peter's slight was okay.

Ben had gotten permission from the tamer and owner of these skeletons for two chairs. Peter and Ben sat down on this chair.

While Peter ate stew and read the list like an innocent, reserved child, Ben said: "I know all about these people around us right now. You can ask me..." He adjusted his sitting multiple times, glancing around and behind him. He looked like he was looking for someone and about to leave with them.

A few moments later, the servant with whom Peter had developed a talking connection and another servant appeared. Peter knew and had an interaction with these servants at Ben's mansion in the past. The former servant's name was Latrice, and this latter servant's name was Loka.

A retinue of Ben's guards joined these servants.

"Who?" Peter said.

Ben nodded obediently and said: "My guards are stupidly strong, and Loka here, the one you've probably met, is a clay-maker evidently. She will give you some background experience of what's it like to be a mage in a dungeon."

"I hope this will be enlightening."

"And I hope you choose one of the adventurers on the list. It does not have to be the best ones."

Peter picked an adventurer group with the head of a rabbit as their symbol. He read the date at the top of the list, "1333."

Loka stood too close to Peter, making Latrice who revered Peter wince. Loka said: "This is neat, isn't it? We got a human who's worth probably a whole lot, considering what happened some time ago. Now, he's doing some normal stuff. Finally? He sounds like... seems like he's pretty knowledgeable, which is why I'm here to tell him how knowledgeable he is. He knows what he's doing right. No need, no need. I really hope you guys make it. Really. I do." She snorted.

"Eh, whatever, with her here," Latrice said. "She'll be useful."

Ben put his hands on his hips, giving Loka a tired but reprimanding look.

Loka nodded and stood far back from Peter.

Latrice walked up to Peter and gestured sideways to Loka beside her. "We got this." She spun her hands, which fell toward Loka again. "We got that."

Loka ignored Latrice, sensing a hint of mockery in her behavior.

Ben said: "Okay, okay, regardless, we know what's important right now. Once these things—right?—get put into place, we'll have a more adept version of what this humble gentleman currently is." He gesticulated, spinning his arms around. "Where he's situated right now sis already a good spot. Now, what we want to do is really put that into function, right? You have all these people and all their different circumstances. Everyone currently—here, there—is expecting that Peter, all the humanity that he is, will go far and—I mean—heights of so many places. We're going outside of the beyond. I'm being exaggerative here, but it's, it's, it's... You get the point!"

Loka said, "I understand completely."

Latrice nodded.

Peter ruffled his hair and bit his lip, nodding with a frown.

Ben said: "Now, I want to introduce to you guys. This person. Now, this person knows what they're doing, right? A clay-maker. I'm also talking about Loka here. She knows what a clay-maker. She's a clay-maker." He smiled flippantly. "I want you guys, Peter especially, to really—when you hear it, you want to hear an ethereal thing. All of it gravituating together into this mega-piece of Holy Cloak. You need to—bang!—into the mind of these really, really intelligent people."

Ben meant "combining, coaslescing, gravitating, coming together, sectioning" when he coined the word "gravituating."

Peter and the rest were attentive.

Ben told Peter, "Okay, are you finished with the marlahila?"

Peter raised a brow. "'Marlahila'?"

"It means the stew you ate," Ben said.

"Marlahila" was a word in the language Sharla which Helper 2 and Helper 3 told Peter that they spoke as well.

When Peter finished his meal and handed it to Ben, Ben said: "'Vorlavun.' Remember that. It will help you."

Peter nodded slowly, glancing around in confusion.

Ben gestured softly for Peter, the servants, and the guards to begin to walk to the deper parts of the dungeon.

While Peter organized his pouch, he scanned around him. Ben walked with a hint of distance and a struggle to hold irritation down. Loka had a tense expression and in deep thought, her head tilted, her mouth stretched sideways. Latrice rubbed her neck and eyebrows, stared at the ceiling of the dungeon, and compressed her lips.

Peter frowned before stilling his expression and turning away.

Peter and company sighted the group of adventurers whom Peter chose.

This group was split between four subgroups, speaking simulataneously.

One of them said: "This entire world is borne out of this great need for sustenance and a sense of being stuck in this hole. We're going somewhere, and I want you to be prepared. If you don't have the tools mentally, this entire operation will not succeed. Now, what I want is your entire brain to be excavated from this world of 'Oh golly!'" When he said "Oh golly," he conveyed a sense of danger.

Another said: "What did you get when you were trying though? Was it working? Were there any—you know—the same issues with the wand and the magical map you were seeing?"

Another said: "You know, I'd rather—like—move on because this is crazy beautiful.

"I am so enamoured with just like the idea of it.

"Just getting... Once you get it, boom! Like sparkles! Everything—if—once... we're all going to go around. It's going to be this big thing. What did Leader say?"

Another said: "Oh, right, don't forget, there's be gonna be this whole new. It's, like, this new monster. Oh, they're really fast. If you die, well, we're fucked, but what matters is... you just get out and take it. Like, you really feel it. Don't go crazy though. Just chillax."

"I want some of the strength potions you have," said another.

"I have—like—five you can use right now. If you, if you use them, don't imagine things, you know. You can hallucinate. You will. Your berserker status is not like completely immune to it. I've tested it on my pet. Yeah, I don't want you saying that I'm—'Oh shit!' You know."

The terrain was strewn with an abundant array of boulders and rocks, creating a scattered landscape underfoot. The colors of the rocks ranged from gray and dotted to black and checkered. Olive-green vines cascaded from the ceiling of the cave. Torches with innocuous fire littered the ground in droves. Some of these torches were on the walls, but most of these walls were dark, creating a shift of attention toward the ground as a center. Chests, a table, and beds bundled up in a center, supporting a homely feel that the magnetic color of the torches provided. The turqoise-blue armor of the adventurers added a pleasant contrast to the yellow that dominated the cave.

When Peter and company weaved through and came close to the adventurers, the adventurers slowed their talking to a halt, facing them with interest in their eyes.

Peter pointed around. "This cave is immense," he said.

"It is... are you new here?" said one of the adventurers. "I'm Clandestine."

Peter nodded, his expression polite. "I'm Peter."

"Do you guys just go ahead or do you guys want to discuss right here what we're going to do?" Ben said, showing an open palm. "I am Ben by the way." He shook Clandestine's hand.

Another adventurer gestured behind them toward the depths of the cave. The other adventurers stood aside to clarify this gesture.

The adventurer who gestured said: "Hi, I'm Filament. Yes, we do need a great deal of planning, but it will come at a cost because we've been given several quests." He gestured to three adventurers one by one. "I mean Mr. Rocky here, Asphalt, and Jayce. They have taken quests, which I apologize for since we're lacking time. We will go through the first level, take a good look at the Queen for a minute, but if you guys are a little bit—how do I say this?—if you guys got the moves and the beat to get along with the flow well, maybe we can explore even the secret part of the dungeon. But really, this is very beginnery."

Peter and company nodded, some saying "Okay."

Filament said: "So, for our resources..." He began to accept items from the adventurers to show to Peter and company. "We'll be bringing two healing potions for the summons, five repair bottles that contain grade A silver, two sacks, five weapon-destroyers—if you have anything to ask, just tell me—the two strength potions, the hand-raisers, three of them, very cheap, and a scroll with a very normal smoke spell.

"Are you guys good?

"What's the limit for you guys?" Filament saw Peter's slightly confused expression and said courteously, "Limit for the sides I mentioned and which you guys will cover."

"I can take it all," Ben said.

"Great. Now, let's move on. We can address the killing later. First, we camp and wait for the first monster to appear. We can tuck ourselves behind one of the walls." They began to walk, and Peter and company followed them.

Gesturing to the bones partially inside the walls, Filament said: "Now, as you can see here, a lot of these bones are humans, but we placed them there by design. Their bodies soak up the negative energies of this space, but let's just say it's only going to soak up the confidence people have before entering... this... part of the dungeon." Since the terrain below him sloped down, he paused at every far step.

Microbial activity manifested on these walls: biofilms, speleothems such as stalactites, stalagmites, and flowstones. Behind Filament, near the outdoor surroundings, where the light reached, microbial mats littered the cave floor and stuck to the walls.

A monster crashed through the walls, slashing at Filament.

Filament used his sword to slash the walls back and cast magic to solidify it, blocking the monster out.

He said, breathing tensely: "Okay, this is only good since we're here at the surface. At the lower levels, we're playing with heat and pressure. The magic won't be as effective since we're all burning. If upstairs or outside is hot, then you'll see how hot it can get down here, hehe. We're lucky enough as it is. With these level 0 monsters, I can at least... give you a taste of what's to come. We're going to fighting monsters? No, we're going to be fighting a monster. Taking this monster's down will take a long, long time. They have their home base here with all the energies that support them. Imagine what would happen if you saw one of these exit into the surface. They won't be that strong, but there's a reason we're here camping all day. It's a tiring job, but you get used to it. Bunch of waiting all the time. Waiting for support. Waiting for supplies. Waiting for a sudden attack. It's part of the game. You have to know how to get your heart and head beating fast to get out of a swipe or attack.

"Now, what I need is Peter. You want to see how I do it. Look at these." He showed Peter a strength potion. "This will elevate your strength momentarily, but it gives you hallucinations. Don't take it if you need to. Of course, this is for my buddy Vintage. There are so many items you'll have to consider for every phase of hunting a monster. I believe you're strong enough though. I trust humans. I just think you don't want to mess with how well these monsters know and play around with this terrain we're in. They are very, very well-versed with the reaches of this place. They have paths everywhere and secret places where they store knowledge and loot. Don't worry. We can get them as long as you're willing to take the first challenge, which is patiently waiting and staying alert."

Peter frowned. His dismay at the comprehensiveness of Filament's account matched his emotions from a memory. This memory was Callous' brevity when it came to an act of renaming the Helpers. He had forgotten to reunite with these Helpers.

Clandestine pointed to a wall that used to be the side of a crater. Natural and magical agents had eroded this crater and the ground around it. "We're staying here," he said.

Chapter 37
"What's up Peter?" Clandestine said, looking over to Filament who was busy talking to Ben regarding national politics and sports.

Peter stared at the noise of other adventurer groups waiting around in different positions. The cave was small, but adventurers were fine with squeezing themselves in hot, dry spots. They used sacks containing a golden dust powder that magically cooled and moisturized them when applied to the skin. They had handkerchiefs to handle the profuse sweat on their faces.

He said generally, "I don't understand."

Clandestine nodded, wiping his face with a handkerchief. "They're smarter than the troubles around. Listen. Watch." He grabbed warm rice bundled in folded banana leaves."There's food here. Come, eat." He handed it to Peter, who struggled to eat it.

Peter felt less tense, rubbing his collar bone instead of gawking around him.

The sounds of heavenly justice cast itself down in the form of screams. The sound of majesty and honor being placed into these screams felt analogous to a grand awakening of hopes. These screams' hearts was a fierce storm that cried: "Oh, Kala! Oh, Kala!" They raged wildly, pressing against the sounds, wind, and air that sought to placate it. Inside them, a hope that shattered time and time again to form the angelic being of wisdom and authority felt clear.

Peter cocked his head at Clandestine in alarm, but Clandestine shook his head, conveying that the screams were normal.

A growl extracted itself into the organized and community-built landscape where Peter was where everything had a purpose or function. This growl felt analogous to the death of a star, the alignment of the stars screaming for the growl to release. It was analogous to the sound of a booming cry across the galaxies and the epiphany of a man within himself. It sounded analogous to the cries of a lost soul under a tyrannical reign. It embodied the major words coalescing to form the symphony of every other word. It was analogous to the the eyes of light that beam down the heavenly gazes of lovely agony.

Peter sighed at the tension that the sounds imbued into him. He felt excited in a way that normally led to what he felt was his grandiose, self-serving rage.

He closed his eyes hard and shook his head once to clear his thoughts.

"I have to collect my thoughts." Peter's words echoed Callous' to him from a long time ago. He found solace, benefitting from Callous beyond his grave.

While waiting, he imagined several houses and a variety of facilities making their way into the cave. He imagined a booming stall that sold various meals and paid using pesos. He visualized the hundreds of people that provided a sense of structure through the spells, magic, resources, and items they had in circulation.

Peter noticed that Latrice and Loka finished their conversation about how monster loot was used. He faced them.

Latrice smiled, glancing at Clandestine and nodding politely, which Clandestine reciprocated.

She told Peter, "What I must do for you is so much more."

Peter raised his brow before tilting his head in a way that revealed distance and hesitation. "Sorry, what?"

Latrice stared at Peter with a dazed smile.

Loka tapped Latrice's shoulder, but Latrice only intensified this smile.

Peter shifted his eyes around as he tilted his head slowly away.

Latrice said, trying to be helpful, "Peter, you don't have to worry."

Peter pushed himself to nod several times. "Y-yeah."

Ben only glanced at Latrice once, his eyes squinting briefly, while he talked to Filament.

Peter told Latrice: "What's 'vorlavun'?"

Ben chuckled.

Peter heard it and repeated his question.

Latrice said, "It means to go ahead very quickly.

"Vorlavun!"

The adventurers ran and prepared to attack from all sides.Their strategy included the fastest ones staying in front to feint for a charge from a monster. The slowest ones stayed behind to contain the missed charge of this monster. The slowest ones were divided into three divisions: the most durable division, the high-damage melee division, and the ranged division such as mages and archers. The fastest ones weaved through the slowest ones to attack and get the attention. The roles shifted depending on whichever adventurer the monster caught and injured severely. Accidents and mistakes happened, which was why the fastest ones needed to be very fast to get a head start in showing each adventurer how the monster moved and attacked. Despite the presence of the most durable division, the fastest ones took the most damage and had the most losses. They got more than twice the loot in the post-fight distribution in return. The adventurers employed the specific strategy, which they based on their knowledge and the preconceived nature of their dynamics. Conversely, most adventurers had an anchor. This anchor could be a single, a couple, or a trifecta of entities, items, or persons which carried their groups.
​
When the adventurers who heard "Vorlavun!" realized that Latrice was testing their reaction, they returned to sit and squat down.

Ben frowned at Latrice's proactivity, but he shortly dismissed her action, assuming that it was a benefit of Peter's influence.

Peter sighed in relief, getting a whiff of fragrances and aromas of ingredients and varnished wood. This whiff reminded him of the last café wherein he had ventured and heeded a learned man discoursing regarding monsters.

He gave the adventurers little attention, wishing to be prepared when a monster appeared. He gulped as a soothing gesture, breathing deeply and closing his eyes intermittently.

A few minutes later, a monster appeared, walking slowly toward them.

Peter said, "You know I've always wondered what a monster stands for."

Loka said, "What?"

"The monster with like..."

Loka rubbed the back of her neck, her expression puzzled. "It, it stands for animals but underground. Whatnot."

"Oh my—that makes sense. That makes sense." He shook his head, smiling with his eyes and lowering the corners of his lips in surprise. "Wow."

Loka stared at Peter, glanced at the monster and back to Peter, and waved her hand. "What!" She was confused why Peter sounded ignorant about the basic fact of what a monster was.

Peter watched the adventurers attack at the monster. He wanted to join, glancing at Ben, and Ben let him.

Peter blasted the head of the monster. The monster had a crab-like head with a stout, humanoid body with skin that resembled a dinosaur's. Its phallic body part bounced up and down as it strode and whipped its arms around, making Peter's face twitch.

This monster extended its fingers to strike with its teardrop-shaped fingernails.

Thirty seconds felt like five seconds to Peter when the monster fell for the first time and picked itself up again.

Peter revealed his white godly form and levitated above the crab monster, blasting where this monster struggled to block.

Several species of bats retreated from Peter who levitated next to them.

The monster fell to the ground five seconds later, but it stood up again, stretching its neck.

Peter swiped with his arms and magically blasted a beam of light, making a scorched line on this monster along its head and face.

This monster fell backward, supporting itself with its arm to avoid falling flat. It straightened itself and lunged toward Peter erratically.

Peter dodged, but his leg disappeared. He screamed before healing himself.

The monster fell to the ground in exhaustion as the adventurers attacked it.

This monster forced a draw, limping away.

The adventurers succumbed to exhaustion, falling asleep where they had fought.

Peter was tired and sleepy, but he fought to stay awake. He watched Ben, Latrice, Loka, and his retinue of guards dragging the adventurers to one side of hte cave.

He fell against the ground, turning to lie on his back. He fell asleep.

He woke up, his whole body sweaty. He lay down on the ground, too exhausted to stand up.

After 5 minutes, he felt awake and sat up, taking a good look at Ben and the guards fighting another monster.

He hyperventilated for a moment, but he forced himself to focus, calming down. He calmly, clumsily stood up like a newborn baby. He pressed against his hips, hardening his jaw in weakness. He closed his eyes, tilting his head, to regain clarity of mind. He half-limped toward Ben. "What's going on?"

Ben told him to levitate.

Peter levitated.

The surreally extremely slim and long arm of a monster missed Peter.

He gasped and whimpered once. "What's that?"

The monster's other arm was next to his face. Peter yelled before he succumbed to exhaustion.

Peter's vision became blurred as he smelled blood pervading his senses. He struggled to crawl, only trembling every once in a while. He was close to death.

Ben's guards healed him after the monster fell to its knees, smoke wafting from its back.

Peter regained control of his body, sitting up. He slurred, "What the hell..."

The guards rushed him away from the monster as green pellets flew from its body, striking one of the guards.

This guard whom the green pellets struck succumbed to exhaustion.

Peter cried, "Wait!" He pushed the arms of the guards away from him and transformed into a 40-meter-giant. Since he was too big, he crawled right below the ceiling of the cave. He grabbed the monster who feasted one of his fingers. He retracted his arms, cowering and reverting into his normal human form. He ran away.

He cast his magic, but it came out as frail sparks. He burst into a dash toward the monster. He paid attention to Ben and the guards who were attacking and running sideways and around. He stopped and shook his hands to get his magic to work again. He slammed his hands against the air. "Come on, come on, come on!"

Creatures similar to goblins appeared on the monster's head, riding on its back. They threw stones that stunned the guards one by one. The guards fell and succumbed to weakness. The creatures transformed into blocky shapes that morphed to combine with the monster. The monster flew forward, neutralizing several guards on the way.

Ben fell against the wall to hide.

Peter continued to slam his hands against the air. "Come on! Come on!"

The monster pointed at Peter, and rocks shot from inside its hands and dazed Peter. Peter fell to his knees, watching the monster reaching out to neutralize him.

A wolf summon and a large bat summon blocked the path of the hand of the monster. These summons fell to the ground in front of Peter. The wolf disappeared into flying sand, and the bat disappeared into thin air. This sand reverted into a wolf lying on the ground next to Peter. The bat reappeared lying next to Peter. The summons glowed blue briefly, stood up, and blocked another blow from the monster. They disappeared again, returned next to Peter, glowed blue again, and blocked another blow.

The adventurers were attacking the monster, making it desperate.

It threw a trident from inside its chest. It exploded, and its fragments stopped mid-air and fell to the ground.

The monster, like the previous one, forced a draw, limping away.

"I blundered with the smoke scroll!" said one of the adventurers. "My bad!" He souned calm relative to the urgency of the fight with the monster.

The adventurers laughed. They easily discussed their mistakes and successes throughout the fight.

Filament said: "We used the smoke scroll, two healing potions, one weapon-destroyer. Everything else is untouched. You can pay us 15 pesos for that, not including the entire operation of course." He glanced at Peter. "That's 40 pesos."

Peter's eyes widened, feeling a mix of relief and awe. He was too exhausted to hide his reactions.

Ben paid the adventurers for their services, allowing them to leave. "It is what it is," he said.

He tilted his head and twisted his torso behind him. "What do you think? Peter?"

Peter said: "I felt—poof!—hehe... I felt like I was close to death." His laugh matched Filament's, and his "poof!" matched Ben's. He wanted his emotions to feel downplayed and masked his emotions to feel congruent.

Ben and his subordinates led Peter to a tavern. Over seventy goblins stood outside at the courtyard of the inn. They were guests for a wedding. The tavern staff were numerous at 15 persons; however, they struggled to accomodate these customers.

The courtyard had an enclosed patch of carrots with a roof over them at one corner and a chest and a square workbench at another corner. The boundary of this courtyard was a combination of fences and stone bricks. Several lanterns were scattered atop this boundary. This boundary led to the outside through a small fence gate. A tower stood at another corner with a variety of stone textures and an eave that extended all around it. It had a high window for ventilation and light. It had a blue-and-yellow banner that hung from a thick post on its roof. A pen covered another corner contained a small adult horse. Smoke wafted from a burning pile of logs beside a drum filled with water and a rectangular workbench at a corner. The variegated stone floor of the tavern building extended a short distance into the courtyard.

From the courtyard, a group of 46 goblins followed and surrounded a wagon at the left of Peter's view. The surrounding grass of the courtyard was bare and healthy at the bottom of this view. A staircase leading from the side of the tavern to an enclosed platform seemed to float at the right of this view.

Peter drank from a small cup of coffee, regaining some of his energy. "Thanks for the coffee, Ben."

"Yeah, yeah, you don't need to ask," the goblin Ben said positively.

Peter turned his gaze outside. A black, stout tower centered in his view. Beside this tower, another tower stood further away with a similar color and materials. It had tall, slim vines and shape.

The towers settled Peter.

Peter's relative comfort and the the joyous atmosphere of the tavern reminded Peter of Earth and humans.

"Do you know the human Sandy Bacon?" he said.

"Lisso's friend. By the way, Rodley wants to know if you're joining the tournament again."

Peter raised his brow, masking his astonishment. He neutralized Sandy Bacon's subordinates before.

Instead of pondering about Sandy Bacon, he listened to the laughter of the other customers and studied the texture of the table where he sat.

Outside, a flock of 60 adventurers casting magic that displayed floating images stopped due to a convoy of monoplanes flying above them.

A group of 5 healthcare staff made their way through the adventurers and into an alleyway.

A smith hammered. The tavern blocked the noise of this hammering.

The insect Mitty scurried around. She interacted with a group of naked police goblins wearing loinclothes.

Blatore, Rol, Malta, and Helper 2 were walking around and talking. Helper 2 paused from time to time to converse mentally with Redlight Striker, with whom he shared one goblin body.

In the distance, a 100-meter-tall treant carried a large stone as flying golems repaired it.

Peter recognized many of the people. These people were predominantly in the town Zon wherein he was all along. Peter felt that he was very close to gaining control over all the people whom he knew. If he gained this control, the next step would be to take the town.

He stretched his head confidentally and stood outside after excusing himself to Ben.

Helper 2 sighted him.

Peter said, walking in a confidently reflective manner, "Helper 2!"

Helper 2 was stunned, saying: "Peter... Hi... Bridgetown... That's you... Where were you..."

"Bridgetown" was the name of the new settlement town wherein Peter stayed for 100 days before. The name "Peter" was synonymous with this town.

Peter nodded. "I understand that it's really been a long time."

Helper 2 took a deep breath. "What's your request?"

Peter bit his lip. "There's nothing that I need to say necessarily. It's just much easier if I say it. But I need kind of this order..."

"What 'order' do you mean?"

"I want to have everyone together. I cannot let this move past me. I have something. It's just... You feel it you know. You have all these thoughts, and it just doesn't stop. I don't know what your goals are, but tell me. I might be able to help."

Helper 2 looked toward a group of goblins walking to Peter. These goblins were the former competitors from the tournament wherein Peter participated before.

"Great. You're here. We might be able to help. Whatever you need."

Peter looked at the goblins and at Helper 2. "Helper 2, Redlight Striker, I am very much willing to hear you out."

Helper 2 said: "Can you help me kill Alask dholes?"

Peter opened his mouth several times in shock, stuttering. "Why?" he said accusingly. Helper 2 used to be a dhole.

"There's a lot of issues." Helper 2 looked above, seeing a hallucination of kobolds riding oxes among the clouds. This hallucination was a permanent affliction. An artifact had caused this affliction. Redlight Striker's body which Helper 2 used had this affliction.

"How..." Peter was too fatigued to look disturbed. This fatigue dated back to when he forcibly woke up during the fight of the second monster. "How to do it?"

"The dholes? Yeah, we can do it as soon as possible." Helper 2 looked optimistic.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Helper 2 said. Peter's fatigued, negative tone made Helper 2 squint and feel slightly offended.

Peter felt dragged along as he followed Helper 2 alongside the former competitors behind him.

Seeing that Peter was leaving, Ben and his subordinates followed Peter outside the town.

Ben, his subordinates, and the former competitors followed and surrounded Peter.

Helper 2 reached the town Bridgetown.

When Peter saw the vastness of this town, he felt disconnected, saying: "I can't do this. Nothing too complicated right now. I need to relax. I was following you, but then, I just lost it you know. How do I say this? I'm just utterly gutted. Everything that I am right now is so close and yet so far from what I want. I need to get out of here. Sorry. What I mean to say is that I need to reconnect to the moment. Everything is moving so fast. I need to breathe for a moment. I'll probably stay here for a while, which means I can't help you fulfill your goal of fighting the Alask dholes. I just don't know why the hell should I dirty and bloody my hands to the point of utter devastation. I'm not that guy, man. I'm just your regular me." Peter's honesty revealed his confidence to the numerous members of his company.

Helper 2 nodded respectfully.

Chapter 38
Peter sat down on his haunches outside the town gates. He told Ben and his subordinates and the former competitors to relax around him. "Expect nothing."

He grabbed his head in stress. "I haven't held this feeling close to me for so long. Sitting down here with the sky moving so fast. Hopefully it slows down some time soon. I just can't deal with this."

He slowly lay down, his body growing more comfortable as time passed.

When the grass began to itch him, he healed it.

However, the itch returned, and he stood up. "Is there an inn around here? Or can someone make a bed?"

Ben glanced around hurriedly. "I saw an inn there in the town, but if you want a bed, I'm going to have to call my dholes to contact some kobolds..."

"You have dholes? Ah, right, I remember. Maybe."

Ben continued, "...to build some beds and possibly furniture."

"Okay. Okay. That sounds good." Peter squatted down again, grimacing at his itches. He stood up and drew in a breath in a restrained manner. He wanted to remove his pain and move on with his life.

"Is there... Is there a spell for this?" He showed Ben his itches, revealing his easygoing demeanor to the 28 members of his company.

Ben shook his head. "You can coat it with palm oil, but I suggest we check at the inn and then heal it. The kobolds are going to take too long, and I don't think you're willing to wait more than an hour."

Peter recognized that his request for an alleviating spell was redundant. He nodded and followed Bed to an inn. Most of Peter's company stayed outside, creating a lingering presence that passersby and bystanders noticed and watched.

When Peter entered the inn, two groups of dholes stood across and slowly looked away from each other. These dholes pretended to be calm after they learned that a group of many members was outside.

Peter wanted to press his forehead stressfully; however, he was too sleepy to react in front of strangers. He wanted to sleep.

When he got a room, he lay down on the floor, remembering his time with Callous and company. He transferred to a bed. Lying on this bed reminded him of a memory from Earth. The wide distance between this memory and his current perspective made him breath quickly. The flashing images of his time here on the different planet wherein he lived made him grab the sides of his head.

Screams sounded across his mind, hearing voices of people whom he each knew at different points.

He gazed at his hand, its lines, and its natural variations in pigmentation, returning his mind to reality.

Peter visualized many scenes of people whom he knew.

In one of these scenes, in a snowy landscape, Callous as a human levitated and rode a deer, grabbing its antlers. He tapped it on the side, and the deer strolled forward.

In another, Sigurd as a human placed his hand on his hip, standing up and meeting his beautiful elf wife.

In another, several dholes stared at Peter. The scene transformed horrifically. In this new scene, the dholes' faces took up Peter's whole view in high contrast against a black backdrop. Their eyes were perfectly circular and directed at Peter. One of the dholes' tongues was out.

Peter changed the dholes into humans who had kind faces, but the scene transformed to reflect the snowy landscape of the first scene. These kind-faced former dholes were axing a dead animal. Their heads and eyes were perfectly still and pointed at Peter.

The scene transformed to reflect the previous scene but with the humans faces instead of the dholes.

Peter widened his eyes, returning to reality. He clasped his knee, his body lying in a fetal position.

He felt afraid that a stranger would appear on his bed and embrace him from behind.

He looked at his hand and recognized that he had magically transformed into his normal white godly form during his visualization.

He reverted into his normal human form. "Yes." He gave his clothes to the staff members of the inn, wearing a temporary attire from the inn. These members sent the clothes to a nearby vendor, who washed and dried them, before returning them to Peter.

Peter chuckled ironically after he got a good look at himself. "Is this better or worse?" He was referring to the different planet wherein he lived compared to his original world Earth.

He fell to his knees and adopted a praying posture. He repeated "Please!" His voice grew from soft, calm, and ironic to one of tearful agony throughout thirty minutes of this repetition.

He gawked at the walls of his room, muttering.

His head twitched due to fatigue.

After a few minutes, he lay down on the floor and fell asleep fast.

Peter woke up, gathered his things, and walked on,  feeling a sense of comfort with each step.

The environment prompted him to ponder, his face expressing difficulty at each connection.

Disliking excessive thought, he entered an inn where the noise drowned his mind.

Desiring a sense of familiarity, he studied the walls. Their wood had light roundish blobs within its brown, leathery texture. Any further studying of the beauty of these textures deepened his connection with the environment.

When the food came, his heart beamed at the release of tension with each bite.

At the end of his meal, he relaxed, touring through the rolling shape of his seat with his finger as a guide. Soon, he felt like lying down and sprawling his limbs wide across the whole world to get that exact relief.

His mouth slightly opened as he gazed openly at the counter.

At the counter, several older men wearing knee-high boots rolled their fists, smacking each other. They made giddy noises, making it clear that their fighting was in good fun.

Men sitting down, drinking, and laughing excessively bored him.

When he began to get bored, he felt compelled to wonder if he had forgotten about his muscles. He lost plenty of muscle since his arrival in the planet where he lived.

The thought about muscle loss reminded him of thin bodies. He found it quite obtrusive to imagine himself looking like a thin swimsuit model just because his circumstances with the goblins, humans, and dholes were terrible. He wanted to drink coffee to pass the time. However, every moment that he considered taking a shower, he felt like pinching the bridge of his nose and raising his head in anger. He let himself feel his swiling emotions after his daily stress from his circumstances.

He raised his head in annoyance, but with strong hands, he held composure.

A few curious travelers got a peep at his sligth expressions, but he ignored them. He was too busy with his own thoughts to dawdle and complain about these travelers, whom he called "ignorant fools."

Peter enjoyed the perspective of a quiet spectator who wandered through the forest freely, waiting to strike anything that dared stop his forest bathing. The image of relaxing on a couch in the afternoon or in the evening at the end of a boring summer sounded good.

Recently, his life had taken a change for the worst. He lost his dog friends. He lost his life from Earth. He lost his memories, becoming a husk of his former self. He hated the philosophy of becoming a husk.

While he pondered on his struggles, he took an initiative and hardened his feet. When he felt his feet begin to tire, he stood up and held the table where he sat. He stood up, trudging sideways through the crowd.

He finally separated himself physically, heading outside the inn.

A few stares made him avert his gaze again.

It was true that Peter was too preoccupied to listen to a few gossipers rattle on. He really preferred to stay alone.

He rubbed his brows, feeling that every second was a waking nightmare for someone who had been so close to death many times. He was nervous about slipping and hitting his head wherein he crossed into the realm of the dead.

If he pondered about his declining trophic health, he would gasp in horror and break a table leg out of frustration.

He was quiet. However, he was full of complaints, whining about the weather being too hot all the time. Yet, in this complaints, a deep perspective of helplessnes and knowledge revealed itself, ready to pierce the hearts of anyone willing to listen. He was full of mysteries, as was everyone who lived as easy as he was frustrated.

Peter's expression was aghast as he saw one of scores of birds get caught in a web; however, the birds were swift despite their apparent weakness.

When a swarm had gone and went a long way, Peter took a few deep breaths to contemplate his worries and his hurdles, every thought like a stabbing dagger that plunged this negativity further and further away.

He remained steadfast.

He traveled outward and visited the edges of town, wherein he entered a forest. Carrying a pouch that resembled the one which his his dear friend Callous had owned, he felt safe, away from the haggard faces of work and sleep deprivation–based hallucinations. He wanted to interact with the common folk, but he would grimace if he saw a person who dared to voice out their suffering cacophonously. He would grab a sword and slash his enemies, not just once but twice. He would depart from every bit that made him human if he had to deal with anyone who was noisy and loud. His emotions were restless as if they were beating against the drum of the ticking clock of life. He would massacre the ideology of suffering if he could.

He truly believed that if he wanted to suffer, he could. He decided that he could no longer suffer. His perspective of suffering was in due process, but it was also in a state of relative delusion, paranoia, and mania. His nervous ticks resembled a tall, soldiery fellow who was armed with guns, ready to aim at his enemies.

He pushed his breath forward and back as he wrestled against time and space. The air seemed to pulse as it resisted against his mad dash through the smallest vegetation. He sweat, as if he carried arm-bending buckets of water.

He clashed with his desire to rest, pressing forward nonetheless against his thoughts.

The path before him remained deserted like it was before.

He reached a pond where he assumed a hundred of dholes would have been if they were less smarter than a human. In this world, dholes were truly intelligent.

He placed his arm against his right cheek to feel the cool air and the subsequent heat of a pressured face.

He moved closer to a river the more he walked, checking each side of a tree to get a good look at how far behind and head he was relative trees he continued to choose as points of reference. He adopted a clear-thinking mindset.

As Peter's mind drifted, he felt like a scientist.

He placed down his hand on a smooth, boulder with some edges that divided each side of the multi-faceted rock. He tapped it once and then twice. He liked a good beat. However, he felt that he was losing focus.

He pondered the effects of radiation against the skin of goblins, visualizing them morphing into bubble-like tumors that exploded like bubbles.

These bubbles he supplanted into his physical realm. He touched each bark group of a singular tree, visualizing them as the bubbles. While he engaged in strange behavior, he changed his mental scene. He would be in a small farm in a small village, but he was now beside a river where trees swayed. This river was also where he could count littered mangoes on the forest floor.

The river beside him had a strong current, but when he stooped and leaned his face closer to it. He felt that its current had begun to slow down. He retracted himself, suddenly feeling that the current had sped up again. His experience with perspective provided him with a standpoint as to how he could participate gently in these forested lands.

He chuckled pleasantly. If the trees could speak, they would have joined him in concert.

While navigating his way through the river, he grabbed a log and sat down on it. His seating posture and the cylindrical shape of this log gave him a sense that he was a robot. While maintaining his difficult posture, he inserted his hand glacially into his mind, moving slower and slower until he halted completely. He was frozen in time for that moment. He began to piece together the places where he had gone, all from the seat of his log. He felt like a captain of a hill.

A figure gently arrived at the corner of his view, making him trip off the log and carry himself back up. "W-what is... Who are you?" he said. His voice sounded small like a chipmunk, but he was large like an ape. He was contradictory in the way he approached the goblin, using questions like "What's your name?" and "Hey, I need to know what you're planning to do here." Conversely, he wanted a friend that was the type of visit a forest at a plain day like this.

The figure was a dhole with a ball of light.

Peter felt that this dhole knew him even now. "Yes, what's the problem?" he said.

The dhole said: "What does that decision you made to conduct a terrorist attack on the village provide? Is there an incentive beyond mere delusion? What are you? What are you suppposed to be? A maniac? No, no, you don't fit into those descriptions..." The dhole saw Peter growing tense and interrupted herself.

Peter drifted away from view, preferring to keep his sanity pure by abstaining from interactions that reminded him of a worse version of himself. He would rather be an ignorant man, revealing his projections toward the people at the inn earlier.

He would demand for a "request" from Ben wherein he would receive hundreds of pesos toward his spiritual, philosophical retreat.

He was cautious about his behavior, constantly testing the physical pain of his arm by pinching its skin. He was growing more impulsive and annoyed as he recognized the internal circuitry of the forest biome.

If he boiled down his thoughts into a manageable pie, he would only feel robbed of his belongings and deprived of his freedom. He preferred that he remained, at a certain level, confused about many wiles. One such wile was the affairs of mice and their intelligence work. These intelligent mice conduced intelligent work at a high-level, taking extreme measures to gain dominance in the intelligential domain.

The dhole with the ball of light was a person who sought Peter. Her presence in the forest where Peter hanged around was intentional. Peter was too critical of people to notice the difference between a voice that allowed one to rest their head vs a voice that one used with an intent to kill.

His legs took on a light pace, the ground feeling like soft clouds to his soles and toes. He recalled a moment when he killed the talented mage out of a desire for understanding and love. He thought at the time that he was utterly confused and losing touch with the world until even his body felt like a stranger. He wanted the idea of understanding and unity, and killing gave a sense of unity in death. "We are all equal in death," he said, adoring the unity of beings.

Peter returned home, pressing against his hips as a way to guide his body past his thoughts and toward engaging with the plans he had in mind. His second objective was to visit the buildings one by one and cover a section on the strategies that coexisting people evolved on a notepad.

He walked by a gate, looking to the side wherein a treant engaged in a series of stretches. He equated this treant's beauty and relaxation with the feeling of home.

His significance within the town where he lived provided a medium by which he could experience others' preconceptions or preconceived notions of him.

The preservation of his built environment served as a source of relaxation amid the staring he received.

A few evenings later, Peter thought that he would finally achieve his mission, but he had forgotten who he was, enjoying the silence a little too much. He sat down, imagining blood on his hands. "Is that so?" He wanted to chuckle victoriously, but he stood and stared with an empty, prey-like gaze, as if a predator was about to choke him.

Everyday was like a hot iron against his skin. He made it past day four a few hours ago, but he was too frivolous, too confident in his own ways of tiring himself late at night and falling asleep with that same relaxed expression every time.

"Where are you little ones?" he said, feeling weakened. He felt ashamed that he was still too young and innocent after everything he'd done. He hoped at least that the price of murder and strife was a bit of knowledge that he could impart freely and helpfully; however, all he had was the ravings of a mad man. If someone read his thoughts, they would gawk or gesture him out with dismissiveness. "How carefree..." he said ironically. His voice was weak, but it carried a hint of a glowering anger that clawed its way through his throat. "I am anger. I am very, very, very not so nice..." He forced a smile. "I'm too slow, too timeless. Where am I really?"

He opened his eyes, sitting at a cafe. He had gone here after taking a walk, doing a few visits, and pretending to have errands to do. "How long-some."

Chapter 39
analyze this:
Peter watched a door open, his mouth slow to open. "I see... I see..." He saw what looked like a large rhinoceros standing on two legs opening a door by pressing above the knob with its pointing finger. "How frivolous, " he said, a hint of bewilderment in his voice; however, he toned this hint down until he looked like a mockard, or a man of mockery. He wanted to dissect the pieces that floated like boats. He imagined himself flying, grabbing at the sails of these boats. "How wonderful," he mouthed.

A call of a restaurant owner made him peek.

A young lady with a furnished appearance with earrings hanging like two perched doves and a light pace that made men touch their brows in tension.

Peter observed both this lady and the rhinoceros, waiting for a magical awakening to displace his surroundings and turn into a battle field. He almost chuckled in excitement. He expected danger.

He wanted danger.

"I haven't forgotten the suffering, but it was too painful not to let go and break free, drowning himself in his new powers and swimming freely," he said once before.

"I cannot imagine what's next," he said to himself.

The lady passed by him. "What say you, chuck biter?"

Peter pressed his nose. "'Chuck biter,' I'll take that."

"What? Whatever, you can have dried mangoes, you want that?"

"What? I'm not ordering that. That sounds... not the most..."

"Eh, take it. It'll be good for you. All the customers..." She gestured to the other customers, including the rhinoceros from earlier. "... love the dried mangoes—don't you all?"

"Mm-hmm," said these other customers in chorus.

Peter tapped the sweat on his forehead and said, "Do you have water to go along with that, please?" He strained a polite smile.

The lady became quiet, looking behind Peter.

Two shadowy figures passed outside the cafe, overshadowing Peter's backside.

Peter turned his head only to see a tall man with two giant legs as arms. "Ah, yes," he said. "I haven't seen everything."

The lady looked at him, confused and somewhat amused. "You're not from around here, are you? An out-of-towner."

"Uh...Uh-huh that's me." Peter sounded half-hearted, looking outside to see what had happened lately at the town where he lived. Hundreds of dholes were passing through the street, pointing fingers at each other. It was a giant brawl with goblins watching. Peter wanted to look away. But the noise bothered him and some noise could serve as entertainment. "Please... give me water," he told the lady, his head turned away.

The lady forced herself to lower her head and walked with a humble gait. "As you wish, Sir."

Peter could have sworn he heard "Sire" instead of "Sir." He rubbed his head. He was confused that the lady acted as if he was a humble servant from who-knows-where. He was Peter, the guy who had started a terrorist attack. The guy who should be maimed. The guy who belonged to the streets. That was Peter, not this nobody who had a good life. Relatively fine as well drinking all this coffee. And ooh, the dried mangoes looked a lot more appealing than he thought.

He began to eat, picking apart the skin. He wondered why they kept the skin, but he shrugged and dealt with it.

"If only I could gather my thoughts for a while before one of you weirdos decide to change shape," he wanted to say, but he kept his thoughts under the surface. His face was like a wet mop of unremarkability. He chuckled, almost drastic to imagine hearing about how long he had before he went truly insane.

He made a loud noise when he banged a spoon against the plate. "Right, spoons." He thought that amid his worries, he could still rely on simple, normal things to save his sanity.

Peter only repeated the words "dholes," "goblins," and "humans," among others. He chose to put aside everything else that littered the background like a bunch of flies. He wished he was kidding when he said that living in a fantasy world required a great suspension of disbelief. Especially if you were close to dying and someone was hammering you across your head. A lot of disbelief there. Haha.

If murder was the answer, he would have solved the world by deciding that his powers were the most enigmatic impossible thing to understand. Yet, he was here, one second away from death if someone had the knowledge and tools he lacked. He was a man of a few words, close to death. Close to death.

He almost died. Each waking moment was like a fresh spit of blood from the gaping feels of his teeth and mouth. Every bit of him screamed "Kala, oh, Kala!" gibberishly due to how flavorful the world he lived in was. "What a timeless mastepiece!" he said, wishing he was a god who knew the answers. Yet, he was staring at the dead faces of his dhole friends everyday in his dreams and nightmares. He was awake.

He felt asleep.

He was awake.

He woke up inside a coffee pot, looking around him. In reality, he was visualizing himself away from all the lights, the cries of his brethren, the preciousness of every particle, object, and singular idea that pervaded his world.

"Ah," he said softly, making the other customers think that he was merely relaxed and enjoying a second batch of coffee. He brought five coffee cups per batch.

He giggled before making a sound like clearing the throat politely to dispell any worries from the customers of his mental health.

The caffeine was like a sugar pumper into his veins. "I am awake," he mouthed.

"Kakakakaka," he said to himself, his mind stretching far beyond superpositionally.

"Quakadilla," His heart pounded like a machine gun. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud.

He went outside. The noise of the streets disappeared because his mind was louder.

"Yes," he mouthed as he passed a passerby.

"Mm-hmm." He cocked his head around and around. Every moment was blissful.

Stress ached in his forehead, but he knew no fear.

Precious gems. Precious gems.

Soon, he was on his bed, asleep. His thoughts returned to normal after his caffeine mania.

He was so thirsty.

Only if Peter knew that he was still awake and alive would he decide to wake up as a man stared at him outside his door, pleading in his heart for Peter to wake up. Before it was too late.

Peter gasped, his mind beating out of his chest into theoretical combinations and subsequent substantial images.

He measured the door against himself. He was 5'4, and the door was seven feet tall. He breathed out of relief, every moment feeling like a hit to his veins. He was relieved. He was calm.

He glanced at every item in the room: sword, shield, bow, arrows, staff, wand, dagger, armor, helmet, gauntlets, boots, cloak, potion, spellbook, amulet, ring, backpack, grappling hook, rope of climbing, healing salve, lockpicks, scroll, enchanted trinket, magical dust, portable alchemy set, elemental gem, dragon scale, phoenix feather, teleportation stone, elixir of invisibility.

He had finished drinking water. Time slowed down to a halt, as he felt compelled to ponder with a critical mindset.

He counted the numbers of the people he had seen in each scene in his memories: "100 dholes at the banquet, 200 at the other noble banquet with Richardess and Miranda." He had forgotten Margareth's name for a moment. "Margareth, right.

He analyzed each interaction he had with Margareth. She was stronger and fitter than the others. She had a candid smile, but her eyes looked too mocking like a hyena. He thought that she was trustworthy as long as he could get to forcing her toward hearing him out. He believed that he had bright ideas after all.

He physically soothed himself again after he began to feel nervous, praying that he could use up his quiet days as saved energy. This saved energy then could be used to finish his troubles with the dholes, especially the Alask ones. Over the dholes, he preferred the kobolds more, but he heard about their monster revolution of some sort. He wanted to understand their complexities, that which they embodied through a shared library of activities e.g., their intricate architecture and craftsmanship. Before, he saw them create variegated wooden constitutions, which was why he decided to believe that these kobolds offered a strong command of cabinetmaking. He presumed that cabinetmaking carried characteristics that resembled an epitome of saved energy. This saved energy occurred in cabinetmaking through the saving of copious amounts of corporeal data and their energetic conversion into organized columns. These organized columns could then be underscored and emphasized as compact features, all of which a piece of hand work demanded. Such bounds optimized his energy saving and even elevated it to a holistic level of understanding.

Tens of thousands of goblins moved at once, each carrying a distinct mind and subsequent mindset that dictated their actions. The behavioral characteristics of a dhole under the demands of a human-level mind raised a question: "Could the demands of a dhole be higher than a human's in terms of their intelligence proportionate to the mass and physiological features with which they dare confide as humane partakers of society?" Their experiential deprivations, that which Peter took apart and observed from the events that transpired, made it clear that the dholes served as "incubators" for grandly knowledge. This knowledge transpired through their shared contact with the mice, with whom they seemed to have equipped extremely powerful arcane tools. This shared contact added to the well-substantiated explanation of mixed species groups within the dhole communities.

Peter sighed, questining his understanding of the events before today. He made a list and noted that he was limited with his knowledge, from which he felt a sense of loss. His vivid experienced drove him to wander and wonder. He was clashing everyday.

Tonight, he would decide to enter a quest.

One man stood out to him as a kind gentleman who knew the dholes well enough from their habits to the way they walked. As this man was a goblin with an elevated status over dholes, his interactions dholes served as a witness for Peter to take up some courage and ask, "How may I help you, Sir?"

The man had a long, white beard, and he wore a lengthened gray hat. Yet, he stood with a posture that demanded little attention, as if he was standing by the side glacialyl, waiting for the next star to explode.

Peter breathed slowly as he listened to the old man say: "You can deliver me fresh rabbits. The goblin hope seemed to have finally delievered on her promise. Two rabbits. Two, don't worry about leftovers... You can give me the dead ones."

Peter nodded, looking to his sides. The juvenile goblins around him made him feel tall. "How are you," he said to them with a hint of pleasure at seeing such frivolous little folk. He continued that it was time for them to head to bed, but then he realized that it was only afternoon. He thought that afternoon was a good time for bed, but he decided that a little activity was good for kids. He concluded with "Go away now," nicely.

Every kid around him felt like a gem that required teaching from reasonable elders. He put the word "elders" in the category of safekeeping precious knowledge, tools, weapons, and all, and waiting for the right time. "The right time."

He got a feeling that today was special as he headed outside the town, carrying a bag as if it had fresh sandwiches. He was hungry, but he was gluttonous for adventure today. Preferably, he would go in the morning, but the afternoon gave him a sense of escalating moodiness to the end of night.

"Knowledge is truly power I suppose," he said as he felt that he would gravitate toward the sun if he stayed too long in the sunlight. He enjoyed the feeling of the heat, but he knew well that the heat could very well kill him. He was opposed to dying too early. Morning would do him well; evening would do him well; and so would the afternoon as long as he was still alive and gaining knowledge.

A fish jumped out of the water, and a hundred sparkles of light shone from their eyes alone. Peter wanted to walk up to them and give them a pat on the head, but when he felt a menacing mood from their expressions, he covered, staying back. The trees began to arch toward him, but he was wrong to think he could escape. They grabbed him, cuddling him like a baby before letting him go and patting his back. Peter was aghast, thinking he had encountered a familiar company of ghosts. He stuttered and proclaimed that he would rather have anything to do with the mystical nature of these trees.

A group of goblin wood cutters entered the scene, walking like a bunch of older folk with only a bag of food hanging from a stick. Peter enjoyed the scenery of a couple of folks cutting wood pleasantly while they listening to the ringing of bells and song tunes. He could even think about his time on Earth, but he was far too gone to sit down and muse until he remembered his timeline.

A good morning felt like a sloppy wet kiss against his cheek, but he was here, enjoying the afternoon in front of a bunch of goblins with whom he used to have grievances. He wanted to say, 'Hi," but then he would ruin their good fun and deteriorate the pure expression of town life.

He made it his goal to avoid disturbing such elegantly placed folks, as if Time the beauty had existed for tens of thousands of years to place them there beautifully.

An arrangement of his thoughts perfected the seaside breeze that hit him. He was mind-ready to get lucky and enjoy himself.

A rabbit was hiding in a bunch, glancing left and right due to a habit rather than an innate fear of the left and the right.

Peter snatched him, cuddling it in his arms. "Wonderful," he said, patting it for good luck. "I knew a rare gem if I saw one. Precious little gem." He raised his shoulders and looked up, closing his eyes, a pleasant smile filling his face. He felt that he had levelled up in an RPG video game.

He snatched his thought about video games and retracted it to his hands. "What is this?" he said, rubbing his mouth precipitously thoughtfully. He said, "The ostrich is a clue to a greater nature of this world." He dashed left and right until he exhausted himself, his muscles receiving an extra boost in power.

While he looked for another rabbit, he rubbed his sore muscles, wishing he was more calm, yet he felt grateful toward the feeling of exercise. He made it a point to sing just so he could exhibit the right mood of thankfulness.

He hid behind a tree, staring predatorily at a rabbit. His expression was a thinly-veiled enthusiasm that sought to conquer all of it. He stepped out of the bush, rushing like a hyena and pouching onto the flanks of this rabbit, grabbing it. He cheered, "Baby, woo! Yeah!" He was heaving tons of breath, every breath like a vacuum out of his lungs. He made himself comfortable on the ground, observing the expressions of the two rabbits he caught. They were pumping their fists in anger, trying to hit at him, but he was too far away. "Hello, little ones, make sure you're ready because I don't know what the old man is going to do to you. Be careful. He might be a wizard." He laughed, but then he realized that the concept of wizards was a serious and gloomy reality. Death and murder was all around him due to magic. It was because of magic that he almost died, and it was because of it that he lost his friends. He hated magic, but he blamed himself too, feeling a searing guilt that sought to captivate him to remove himself like deleting a file. He gasped, tracing his breath until he received the beauty of calm.

It was too late for him to seek reconciliation now, but he accepted that.

He dragged the rabbits all the way to the older man who seemed fresh out of the shower. "What?" he said. "Do you like me?"

Peter almost reacted with disgust. "Why the hell would I like an older man?"

"Oh, so if I wasn't a man, you would... you know... go for it?"

"Yeah, of course, just not over 60. Like man..."

The older man stared at him, amused and happy that he caught Peter confessing his tastes in women.

Peter turned away, glancing at the older man, and sighed. "Rabbits." He gave the rabbits and went on his way, glancing at the older man with hidden curiosity.

"I could go help him again, or I could sit here and pretend I'm doing something with my life when I'm not. Hmm, how easy and amazing it is to have abilities of the human mind only to use it for things like this. Dumb!"

He went to buy a banana, tasting its sweet, honey flavor and making an O-shape with his mouth to get the full sweet freshness of eight bites. He ate it so fast that the people around noticed him before the large banana. He relaxed away somewhere else, as the scent of bananas made his mouth feel intense like a strong grip on the hips.

He imagined going home, but he chuckled. "It's too late. Stop wandering."

Chapter 40
Peter stepped down a ladder that resembled a staircase. He opened a hatch door and entered down into an underground inn. Several tall men with black lanky over-layered clothes and giant cumbersome swords stood in front of him. He wanted to mock the functionality of their attires, but he recognized that in a fantasy world like the one where he was, he should expect the worst, the deepest bizarre.

Every step he took farther inside felt like an ominous depth of fear that made him hesitate, looking like a dancer getting used to high heels. He pressed himself against a table, lowering himself and sitting down beside a goblin with red hair. She was the gaunt goblin of a growing adventurer group. Her group was now 27 men and five women. She was one of these women, fierce and sharp.

Peter paid attention to something else — a goblin nakedly swimming across the air. He thought that it was a performance, mocking the inn for hosting such a perverse act of green goblin backwardism. He shook his head in pleasant surprise when he learned that the goblin was sharing a magic spell that required its nakedness in order for the spell to activate fully. Peter wanted to laugh at how bizarre the goblin looked physically, considering his own sizes.

He had entered an inn with intentions of seeking knowledge wherein he goaded himself into reparatively volunteering behavior. He had conceived a plan to accept quests from strangers he deemed appropriately moral and extensive in terms of the first impressions he would receive and give. These impressions would increase traffic more toward his knowledge expansion and less toward warning others of his coming. An intrusive thought entered his head, saying that he would become a reigning emperor in the land. He imagined that his name would be "Peter the Great" like that one dude from the east on Earth. This great name would most certainly converge the knowledges of the land to his listening ear.

A mighty force flew against Peter's face, as the blessing of the goblin who swam through the air suffused his magical aura. He now took ten times shorter to use a single spell. It was merely a five-second difference because the duration of a single spell casting was short, albeit initially. Declining magical abiity, like strained supply lines, conduced to a soul brimming with visual aura but losing most of the magic that would have been used for actual casting and attack. Peter was seconds away from blasting the entire inn with light, but he was too rational to carry out such sociopathic acts.

A goblin beside him mentioned that a convoy of planes would arrive a day from now.

Peter was interested, as he had feigned obliviousness and adopted a sense of callousness for a long time. The implications of an interplay between fossil fuel and magic was familiar, which the flight of the planes had impressed on Peter at his first time.

He wished to understand the stoic men who drove the planes amid the terror of the plains below. He attempted to crush a fruit under his hands at the counter, but his hands had limitations, which his magic overruled.

Peter turned his attention toward his body. The blessing of the swimming naked goblin was present in his body, taking his magic in drifts and turns as it coalesced and mingled with his spirit. He imagined himself bottling up a pressure before brushing his thoughts away, afraid that he might activate an explosive feat of magic. He wanted to test his magic, but he always picked the cafes and the restaurants to have his moments of realization, which felt woeful.

He stepped outside, glancing at the rain that pattered against the roofs, making clacking noises to which Peter leaned in close outside of the shade. The night sky was wide. It got Peter a moody outlook which resembled patience with aesthetic rainy nights. Yet, furthermore, this outlook resembled authoritative possessiveness against the excruciating lives circling underneath the might of the moons, stars, and celestial bodies of space.

He grabbed a small bottle and drank it, feeling refreshed despite the moodiness he felt. The midnight was far away, but his body communicated that he was close to bed. Since he lacked sleep, he obeyed his body and departed in order for him to get some rest. When he finally finished a good night's sleep, the shouts of the streets greeted him like a wave in the morning or an old friend saying "Hi" again after 6 years. Facing the masterpiece of daylight, Peter knew what to say and what to avoid saying, which was nothing.

If he knew that he could be happy, he would've calmed himself at the time of Callous' death; instead, he exhibited intense emotions and rageful, warmongering behavior, contradicting his modern hopes toward Earth in a smooth safe way back home.

Whatever the case for the future events, Peter was stoic.

He walked down a small path that led to a village, approaching the village like an old friend. Everyone there stared at him. His face was a shining beacon of authority, as he was Peter, the man who attacked the town; however, adventurers stood there, watching him to protect him and to prevent any more of his disastrous actions. These adventurers had certain vested interests in maintaining his freedom and prosperity. The witnesses' stories regarding Peter's powers lived rent-free in the adventurers' heads. An older adventurer spearheaded the maintainance. This adventurer had white luscious hair with healthy skin and a quiet demeanor.

Peter waved at the adventurers before he went to discuss with one of the villagers concerning a quest.

The quest concerned the development of three kobolds, whose mental problems were becoming more problematic. They had certain tendencies toward anti-social behavior, and Peter was well-experienced in this behavior. He said that he obliged toward helping them and he was an expert of the mind. The villagers had little faith in his abilities, only hoping that a tiny help could go a long way for the kobolds whom they had lodged. They each implied to each other that they cared about the kobolds more than the rest; however, kobolds were useful creatures.

Peter sat down in a polite, open manner, hoping that the kobolds who would return from a trip would feel safe with him.

When the kobolds came, the first thing Peter said, "I know your capabilities." The human Peter's tone was vague and ominous, making the kobolds stop to look at him instead of feigning ignorance of the rare human.

He gave the goblin villagers one more look before staring off into the distance. "How do you guys do things around here?"

The villagers perceived his words as illusory and almost against the flow they expected; however, Peter was a human, a bizarre sight.

The kobolds used a stutter to voice out their complaints: "We're tired of staying here. We want to go home."

Peter raised his brows, his heart stopping. He turned to the villagers, who seemed despondent and exhausted.

"Hmm? Sorry, I might have understood wrong."

"We're tired of staying here... in this place. We want to leave to go to the kobold lands."

"That... does that exist?" Peter said, openly revealing his ignorance.

"I don't know, but you can ask their father," said a villager with a strong gaze. "He's right here and a... prisoner of ours. He's a killer of my son."

Peter found the words "a killer" to be ominous. He expected "the killer" instead of "a killer," feeling that this villager could be playing with him.

He brushed off his assumptions and said, "Explain." He showed them a smile, prompting the kobolds and the villagers to take a confident step forward.

A representative of the three kobolds said: "I can only say that my father deserves twice the punishment. He's not a good man." He sounded callous.

The villager who spoke said, "I don't hold a grudge against kobolds. About their want to leave, they can go. We just thought one of you adventurers should know about it because they've been killing animals for fun. I'm worried that—"

"We're not, in any way shape or form, problematic," said the representative. "Please adjust your expectations of kobolds."

The villager wanted to say something, but he saw Peter stand up.

Peter adopted a more candid listening posture and said: "This sounds like a job for me... What about you guys tell me what this farce is?"

The villagers shook their head. "Farce?" said several.

Peter took a deep breath. "Oh, my bad." He had gotten too excited and thought that he was as smart as he was strong. He had felt that the villagers and the kobolds were saying nonsensical things that sounded like an elaborate attempt to stall him. He wanted to listen now, but the villagers' quest puzzled him more now. He glanced at the adventurers several times. He deemed more knowledgable to explain whatever this quest was supposed to be.

"Right," he said. "Nevermind." He was hiding some pent-up frustration behind his brief statement.

"Gosh," he mouthed, wishing that the villagers could reveal what each of their intentions were.

The villagers at the back discussed their considerations in hushed tones, making Peter slightly nerve-wracked.

"Good," the kobolds responded to Peter's "oh my bad," as they had an inkling that the villagers called a gathering to make chaos instead of supplying them with armed help. "Come with us then if you want a job," the kobold representative told Peter. "I'm assuming that they gave you a decent price for whatever they had in mind."

Peter nodded slowly, wishing to turn the situation in which he felt conflicted into a win. "Okay then," he said in hopeful, bright voice.

The villagers were silent, looking at Peter more than the kobolds whom they had quested Peter to handle.

His head turned away, Peter thought they were staring at the kobolds, which made him feel more inclined to leave with the kobolds.

He turned to the villagers, who began to leave, and decided to leave as well alongside the kobolds.

The kobolds led him through a thicket of trees to where a broken, old, musky chest sat, hidden.

Peter wanted to say: "They have quests and they have chests. Ooh, baby, I'm in luck!" He felt that he was back home on Earth, playing video games. An intrusive bunch of concerns plagued him, but he pushed them away.

The kobolds said, "We want you to take a look at this."

Peter went close before he said, "Are you sure—"

The chest opened its mouth and bit Peter's arm off.

Peter screamed as the kobolds jumped on him and tied his hands together. "Yes, yes, yes!" one of the kobolds said.

"Woohoo!" said another.

Peter groaned in a panicked tone. "Hey, hey, hey! What are you guys—"

The kobold began to slam him with a club, interrupting Peter's cries.

Peter hurriedly kicked himself and the kobolds away, as he rapidly transformed into his giant form. He broke out of the ropes, staring down at the kobolds with disgust. "Do you guys seriously—"

Peter's back received a hit from a spear, which Peter had thrown before at a kobold.

The kobolds joined together and cut his legs, leaping away to avoid Peter's stomps.

With only one full arm, Peter blasted at them, killing them one by one. He almost picked his nose just to spite them.

The kobolds retreated. Most of them escaped.

Peter gritted his teeth before he relaxed. "Okay, okay, what an annoying bunch," he said in a mildly annoyed manner that denied his more troubled emotions.

The kobolds returned to throw rocks and bombs at him.

Peter saw his foot turn to large stacks of meat pressed against each other. He winced and tried to heal it, only to find out that his healing was limited when directed toward his giant form. He looked at his hands, which had turned luminous white because he transformed. He aimed it at one of the kobolds, but he missed due to an energy drip that occurred he tried to heal his foot. His giant form was too heavy on his mana for him to receive a surge of healing strength.

He removed his giant state, reverting into a normal human size. He pointed his arms, only to find the kobolds pressing spears against his neck. He healed himself as they began to stab him through and through.

Peter panicked through his eyes and flailing limbs, but the rest of his face was still. He blasted one kobold one after another, but the kobolds were durable.

Peter kicked and kicked, seeing an adventurer in the distance strolling toward him. He called, "Help!"

This adventurer, who looked bored, said, "What will you pay me?"

"Hundreds! No... thousands of coins!" He was starting to run out of mana for healing against the stabbing. He closed his eyes as a spear plunged his face and head.

His body remained static and alive, but time was running.

The adventurer bolted away before turning around and adopting a speedy form. He flashed to the kobolds and slammed them away one by one until Peter found relief and safety.

When the kobolds realized their precarious position, they left.

The adventurer pressed his face against Peter's face, turning it from side to side to check the fleshy, brainy, and boney bits that were naked for show.

Peter was confused, but he quickly backed away and said, "So who are you?"

The adventurer smiled with a conceited expression. "Who am I? Who am I? Nobody. Just give me the money, alright?" His face became serious, and he raised his hand in front of his face, gazing at his palm. He was warning Peter.

Peter shook his head out of tiredness and said, "Okay, okay." He fumbled with his torn pouch on the ground, sitting on his haunches. "Are you going to stay further back because I'm scared you'll kill me, okay?"

The adventurer smiled with that conceited expression again. "Really? Really, Peter, you're so amazing that you decided that after me saving you, I'm going to kill you as well. How stupid is that? You're stupid. Who's stupid... Oh, wait, I forgot. Would you tell me again who's stupid. Because..." He adopted a sarcastic, explaining tone. "Because... you're a piece of loser shit, okay? Everything that you are deserves to die." He raised his voice. "Okay?" He prolonged his voice and leaned further in his sarcastic tone.

His demeanor and voice turned solemn.

"Peter," he said. "You have one more chance to give me the money—"

"Okay! Okay! Here!" He handed a bag of coins to the adventurer. When he finally backed away, he said in a surprised manner, "And you know me!"

The adventurer had a passionately terrifying face. "None of your business, Peter. You're a piece of crap, you know that? I'm only helping you—" His tone turned very sarcastic and dramatic. "—because the gods have decided that you are worthy of their utmost favor." He gave Peter a grin that seemed both exasperated and willing to murder if something pissed him off even slightly.

Peter had full attention toward leaving, so he did, dashing, his wet, bloody hair fluttering in the wind.  "What is that guy! Who the... who the hell is that guy!"

"Whatever!

"All I need is to not die.

"No more... No more dying."

"After everything you did!" Peter heard the adventurer say mockingly. "You think you get away with it!"

Peter was fearful, almost bumping against a tree because he closed his eyes.

He fell down in front of his bed, his face full of mixed emotions. "I have to take another quest!" He stood up and ran briskly, forgetting his shoes and running barefoot. He dashed through past around wagons, carriages, and groups of people through a junction where he could pass through. He saw a tall building with a sign that read "Mark's Adventurer's Guild." He weaved himself inside and appreciated the value of the architecture and intricacy of design. The building was like a colosseum. The people around him wore suits that showed prestige and ranking, making him feel safer and more aware of himself and his place in society. He wanted to leave to the board that displayed forms for quests, but the crowds of adventurers inside made him slow his pace.

The adventurers one by one glanced at him, giving their numerous and variegated complex approaches toward Peter. Some of them looked annoyed at Peter's sudden appearance. Some looked happy and almost reverential. Some of them wore a still expression that masked tense emotions inside. Some of them were afraid, their hands shaking and their feet afraid to make a step. Some of them looked furious, balling their hands into fists. Some of them wished Peter could help them rank up. Most of them could hide their emotions easily due to Peter's ignorance of goblins' facial structures and subsequent facial, emotional expressions. Peter had only Redlight Striker with which to compare faces. Redlight Striker was a person with whom Peter had trouble getting along, which only added to the plight of his vastly limited ability to recognize facially and emotionally.

"What am I doing," Peter said to himself, covering part of his face. He stood next to the counter and showed a bright, sunny face. "I want to take this quest." He grabbed a completed quest form from the board nearby and placed it down smoothly to gesture his motivation.

The receptionist looked at him once and then said, "No."

All of Peter's enthusiasm dropped, and he frowned with the quiet statement "I do not understand."

The receptionist said: "You look tired. Get some rest." She gave the adventurers beside and behind Peter meaningful glances.

Peter raised a fist. "I will get this quest whether you like it or not."

This quest was special, as it regarded picking up magical flowers that empowered children to learn how to craft wooden creations.

Chapter 41
Peter's torn clothes with his bare feet made him seem like a vagrant, but he was a human, rare, which only created a bizarre reaction among the goblin adventurers around him. "What?" many of them said.

Peter pointed a fist toward the board nearby. "I need it please," he said.

The receptionist in front of Peter looked behind her as a figure appeared behind a door which slightly opened. She nodded with a raised hand as this figure gestured and spoke.

This receptionist turned toward Peter slowly, proclaiming, "You may take the quest."

Peter said, "Yes!" He briskly walked, adeply avoiding the adventurers now in front of him. Some of them failed to block him secretly as forms of intimidation.

When Peter reached the outside, he made a victory pose that matched the free, crowded streets of the town where he lived. "I just... need to make it." He smiled, revealing his smaller teeth. These teeth had decayed in size due to dental neglect and his penchant for eating sugary spirit fruits.

While heading to get magical flowers, he sighted a group of hunters throwing knives that they combined with a damaging spell. During a past excursion, these hunters gained a tactical advantage by studying magical processes, which led to great advances in combat competence and the ability to observe and study the observable scope of magical spells in more detail. As co-hunters who wished for another step ahead of the competition, they partook in magic science. Today, they focused much study on magical impact on knife throwing.

Peter saw a small meteor fall and slam against a sapling wherein a knife lay.

He backed away out of view deep into the forest where he watched from afar, a silent observer.

From the open hands of the hunters, knives flew like a flight of bumblebees as meteors struck where they landed. Their magic was working.

After a short break, another round of knives flew. When Peter looked at the sky, he learned that the meteors appeared out of thin air.

The hunters stopped throwing, scanning their surroundings when Peter appeared.

These hunters numbered 17, and Peter was only 1 person.

One of the hunters grinned, showing his teeth. "Nice, ey, a human, what about that?" He was interested.

Peter looked mysterious due to his destitute appearance but poised expressions and movements. "Hello," he said. "I want to join you all." He tilted his head to give the impression of innocence and childish curiosity.

The hunters raised their heads and adopted intimidating postures with crossed arms, balled fists, and dull expressions.

Peter lowered himself, squatting. This squat was a further attempt at crystalizing an innocent nature.

The hunters backed off, discussing with each other concerning Peter.

Peter adopted a thinking expression to match these hunters' demeanors and potentially perfect his act. This act came with good intentions. He was afraid of crossing out 16 more misnomers from his list of people whom he had met.

When the hunters turned around and peeked at Peter, they had polite, friendly expressions. They walked up to Peter, holding their knives casually.

Peter stood up to match their intimidating approach. He wanted the intimidation to be equal to prevent abuse of his feigned innocent nature. He desired true connection through a balance of friendship and a light of each other's attitudes and thoughts.

The hunters interrupted their walk and froze on the spot. "Sir, you are a human," said one in a knowing tone. He glanced at his knives. "What do you want?" He had mentioned Peter's species to tear down any shameful pretense of ignorance and as part of a warning gesture that they were familiar with humans.

Peter smiled. "Good. I want to join you guys," he said. He offered his hand like offering a cup of coffee; furthermore, he put his other hand out in constant visibility to show his intentionality in keeping their graces.

"Wow, okay. You really want to join, huh. Sharing secrets and being all nice and love-some like a bunch of birdy two-shoes. I can let you join, but first..." Placing a finger against the top side of his head, he looked to drift into thought. "First. You must give me all your money."

Peter let his face droop for further incorporation of innocent themes. "Eh?"

A few hunters burst into laughter, finding Peter a genial fellow.

"Come..." said one.

Peter straightened his posture in alertness, which departed from his act.  The kobolds who had attempted to murder him told him to come with them too. He took a sharp breath and followed, hoping for good luck.

In front of Peter, a tall building that Peter recognized stood in the distance. This shape of this buidling resembled the letter "T" with a square as its top portion. At the top of the vertical line, instead of continuing as a narrow stem, it featured an abrupt transition into a square shape. It was a farm that involved the casual massacre of monsters.

In a meadow, the small figures of the hunters smiled visibly at Peter. They spoke mutedly as breezes blew above them.

Around them, a mixed species aggregation of magpie robins observed the grandiosity of Peter and the hunters' meeting.

"Excuse me Sir. Monsters are flocking toward the Cascadi regions, yet you are here posturing with us. What a glad day, is it?"

"I know nothing about that," Peter said in a deceptive manner that implied knowledge regarding these monsters and about the Cascadi regions while actually being ignorant of them. This layered manner was to benefit off people thinking that they knew his vulnerabilities when they were truly ignorant. Reserved and blocking behavior strongly implied these vulnerabilities. Yet Peter was aware of these implications and judiciously feigned these behaviors to his advantage.

On the flip side, Peter was a straight-faced man when it came to both deception and reality. He carried one goal: to understand the world around him.

He simply was, in all its grandiosity.

The hunters pointed to several parts of the giant farm building, showing Peter large chests that contained loot from monsters.

Peter stared at them, touching his lips as he pondered. Even this behavior was intentional to supply a sense of ease: he was afraid of losing someone again.

"Sir, what are you doing?"

Peter raised his brows. "Ah, yes, what is that?" he said.

Two hunters picked up and showed him two detached, humanoid insect heads twice the size of their heads. A hunter behind them held a skeleton head, appreciating its gorgeousness.

A smile formed on Peter's face.

"Ah," he said. "I see."

He felt loved.

He heard the voices of his friends, teachers, and family members from Earth talking in another room. These voices were in his head, but he was in a state of reverie.

He tried to add as much voices as possible to comprehend every person he had known, met, and seen in his life. His mouth opened to show a gaping hole of dreams and mindsets that paved the path for his devolution into a mindless creature of vulnerability and loss of control like in a rage. This loss of control was sensory rather than actual. He was full of joy, relief, and anger. He was like a god of nothing, full of the emotions of a god but destitute of the powers.

The hunters peeked at him, but Peter looked dazed as if in a storm waiting for it to end.

"Are you okay, Sir?" said a hunter.

Peter felt like he was stuck in a loop. He gave the same response that he gave Laol after she slapped him a long time ago, which was to grab a rock.

"My name is Peter," he said, "and I'm think I'm fine." He rubbed the rock, an anticipatory, optimistic smile forming on his face.

Groups of wagons arrived from the nearest town, as the hunters jumped and ran downhill to greet them. The adventurer who had saved Peter from kobolds arrived alongside them.

The wagons were empty, as about a dozen goblins leapt out of the wagons to take the loot inside the chests of the hunters as part of an transaction.

This gold came with documents that provided a brief explanation of economic, political, disruptive trends of the town. These documents with additional knowledge regarding Peter, a polarizing figure of the changing times in dhole land and goblin centers of interest. His public persona was that of a distinctive human who deigned to grace the lowly plains and forests of the goblins and dholes. His influence on dhole politics was great, as he slayed three dhole rising leaders, John, Shallow, and Sigurd. He was also present at the death of the the teacher of these leaders, Callous, which furthered his impact. In addition, his influence on goblin politics was similarly pronounced. His 50-day imprisonment and escape touched on his influence. His decision to stop at a certain spot of land out of which directly generated the bountiful settlement of the town Bridgetown which crucially joined Zon and a nearby dungeon touched on this influence was his most fundamental driver of this influence. His opponents chiefly stated one personal controversy, broaching his "slip-up in a given limited area," which was his terror attack in the town Zon. The subsequent denial by collective authorities from goblin senators, think tanks, and adventurers and the dhole head of senate herself fanned the flames of this controversy. The additional knowledge of the documents that the hunters received informed as to Peter's meandering throughout Zon.

In front of the hunters, Peter gazed around him. Birds seemed to surround him.

The human Peter was in the presence of numerous others, as dholes and goblins watched and protected him.

Peter pushed himself to stand, as he felt like he needed to lay down and rest, shifting between his legs.

Peter had succeeded in convincing the hunters to see him as an amicably clumsy fellow. Furthermore, the hunters were already considerate and open-minded toward him. They were more idealized toward introducing Peter to a variety of concepts. Their intention was to advertise and educate Peter in hopes that he would help them back, which was a form of professional networking.

Peter pointed at a bunch of tools on an organized stock shelf nearby and asked them their purpose.

These tools resembled those used in torture.

One hunter explained: "They're used for dealing with specific monsters. If you want to know more, I can give you The Essentials of Weaponry."

Peter raised his brow. "Hmm?" He was glancing at the adventurer who had saved him from kobolds. This adventurer was strolling around, initiating conversations with the other hunters. This adventurer was very condescending to Peter after he saved him before, which made Peter somewhat distracted now.

Smiling, the hunter snatched a book after rummaging through a clutter: documents, old trinkets, mostly small weapons, and tools, a colorful variety of clothes, strips of metal, crucial artifacts among defunct ones, several containers with pieces of spoiled food, a cup of bitter coffee, blackened bananas and leathery, black banana peels, several varieties of parchment each made from the skin of a distinct species of monster, some tawdry but magically enhancing jewelry, and chipped blocks of wood, among others.

Peter asked, "Why do adventurers go to dungeons if we're dealing with a monster-destroying mechanism of—" He shouted confusedly, "What? This structure?"

The hunter rubbed his moustache and said: "So, here's the deal. We've got several of these buildings that are hoarding a ton of magical energy. We need some people who are good at dungeon exploration to let the mana escape while we handle the draining part, which practically happen on its own. It's like this intricate feedback loop we're dealing with, you know? Pretty complex stuff, but that's the absolute gist of it." The hunters were happy sinecures thanks to the recent development of monster farms.

He handed the book to Peter. "I can give you, also, a clear, concise, and engaging account of a limited but valuable number of monster and their variations. We're monster experts, you see." He gestured to the head of a monster nearby.

Peter sat down patiently. "Okay? What's to know?" He put the book down on the bench beside him.

"Monsters come with variegated forms, most of which have a shell like a turtle."

"Right," Peter said cheerfully.

The hunter glanced behind him with a longing smile before he said inspiredly: "Read the book. We have all day."

In the distance, Peter got a feeling that he was being watched, he sat down, trying to keep calmly still. He wanted to turn his head and check for intruders and observers from the steep, forested hills surrounding him. The river far off to his left made the feeling of the preponderance of people sharp.

"Men, I suffered so much," Peter said. "And for what?" Instead of sadness or joy, he felt present. Rage was far away from him, but no, it was a friend.

Anger spewed from his gaze.

He was too afraid to become the good person and take a stance against evil because he would become like them as well. He was normal instead of special. 

He was nothing. His individuality was stolen, taken away from him. Now, he was a mouthpiece for those surviving. He was nothing but a tool. He was a lost cause. He was a goner. He was just him.

It was too late to make promises. It was too late to become anything. It was too late to become the epitome of grace and beauty. It was too late. No one that he wanted to save would be saved.

He said that it was enough, but when he said that, a spark of discomfort emerged at the bottom of his stomach.

He wanted. No, he yearned.

He thought. If, if, if I do it. If I try. Will something happen?

Will something change?

Will it change?

Will it become better?

Will I finally... help someone?

Save someone?

No one would suffer anymore, right?

If I tried. If I tried.

He felt that he had to do something, so he began to walk, albeit slowly.

He was heading toward people. The first person he remembered was one of the dholes at the banquet—the dhole with the ball of light.

He wanted to see the graves of Helper 1, Helper 4, and Callous again.

His strong empathy made him more attuned to the suffering of others, often at his expense.

The hunter stopped him from behind. "Hey, what are you doing?"  he asked, looking behind himself before cocking his head at Peter's hands warily. A strong demeanor emanated from the way he lifted his arms and the way he stationed his legs. His back seemed more prominent due to his elevated head, acting as a stalwart support guide for what his arms were going to do next.

He waved behind him.

Peter's eyes followed this hunter's changing expression. "I was thinking of..." he said.

Three other hunters joined the hunter who had stopped him. "What's going on here?" one of them said.

Peter's expression changed to that of wariness. "I..." A sombre expression issued from his drifting voice.

A formation between the hunters appeared. "How do you feel?" the hunter who had spoken last asked.

A momentary smile coated Peter's face that had slight sweat. "Yeah... good I guess." Peter had lost his composure, looking like a nervous wreck.

The hunters adjusted their positioning, offering Peter space. One asked another for a small sword. He received and showed it to Peter.

Peter's hands emerged from behind him, taking this sword under his shadow. The intricacy of this sword looked like a baby dragon that had broken out from the earth.

Peter smiled. "What is this?" he said and prolonged the last word as his smile faded. "You're not giving me this for a price or mission, are you"

"No, no, worries," the hunter who had spoken last interjected. "If anything, some people would gladly throw that away. Hehe." He saw the other hunters' worried looks and turned back to Peter. "If anything... it's a present that enables you to go anywhere you want depending..."

Peter glanced from side to side before leaning forward. "'Depending'?"

"It depends... It's not an fix-all sword, but it provides some levity when you're looking for wares. People expect you to be strong of course, but some connected peoples—individuals—have an influence—" The hunter began to sound wandering. "—and—and—and—it's not definitely going to suck so take it." He sounded repellently discouraging.

Peter was long-suffering, making his expression as soft as cheese cake. "Surely..." he used a word deviating from his usual vocabulary, reflecting his awkwardness with his situation.

The hunter took a bold step forward, jolting another who was brushing his long hair. "J-just take it."

Peter was confused. "Please preface me a bit... I'm a little lost you see."

The hunter chuckled to relieve some tension. "Hmm, whatever, you don't have to take the sword." He snatched the sword and tossed it out of sight.

Peter opened and closed his mouth a few times, glancing toward this sword. "Um, can I? I want to know about..."

"Oh, you're hungry. I see." The hunter led Peter, who restrained himself from barking out his conflicted thoughts, back to the hunters' property. "We have all sorts of food. I know you're feeling hungry."

Peter thought this kind of person was annoying. "Okay," he said in a subdued tone. He was more than willing to get out of here in order to regain a sense of bearing and control over the chaos that emanated from his surroundings. "What's the food?" he said, glancing away.

The hunter showed him food, to which Peter felt aversive: Peter's appetite was absent.

This hunter smiled, showing a variety of different dishes which he had collected from a magical dimensional artifact.

Peter's face became fixated onto this artifact. From this artifact, he perceived a myriad recollections that hailed his magical and physical quintessence jointed in suffering.

The strong lure of this artifact made Peter lean toward it slightly, replacing the space before him with his shuffling feet. "I haven't seen this before."

The hunters showed each other disgruntled looks as they said in unison, "Imprison!"

Peter's body seemed to flee, growing smaller and smaller until he was the size of a pinpoint. He exploded, miniature bits becoming strewn across the ground.

At the bottom of a boulder-strewn landscape, the tiny forms of the hunters gazed as the sky became dark.

Peter's body returned to his normal form, reviving.

Peter puked blood out of his mouth, reaching for his lungs. He raised his head and stretched his back, groaning.

The hunters stared at him, each carrying a heavy weapon. "We've cleaned away your evil spirit."

Peter looked at his hands, seeing their white color disappearing in spots. His arms and the rest of his body had become normal.

He lost his magic completely.

"What?" expressed his face. "Why?"

Intellectually, the hunters grabbed Peter's body and adjusted it, and Peter resigned himself to their manipulations.

Peter's expression remained in a clear struggle between agony and apathy.

The hunters widely pinched Peter's neck, their gazes showing muse and some hesitation.

Peter gazed at them, but the goblin hunters acted resistantly, feeling more motivated to commit to their research of his human body.

The hunters' shadows replaced the night sky. Dissociation and euphoria pulsed from Peter's expression as he enjoyed the night sky.

The hunters take 30 minutes, but to Peter, it felt like days.

When the hunters were finished, Peter stood up and left.

The hunters watched him leave, only placing down a few notes from their studies of Peter's body.

Peter's running gait was disjointed and erratic, but he was still-faced. His byzantine, contradictory disposition created a unique terror.

He fell down, stared at the grass and then the ants on the ground. The small nature of the ants made his perception of the world become miniature, and he tilted forward. The agonizing pain that shapes and blocky figure strangely gave him broke out to his face; his proprioception told him that his limbs were bent out of angle mistakenly. He felt that his body was flying forward, falling forward into the trees, feeling his mind hitting agonizingly against the bark. He screamed inside his head as the ants turned gigantic and crawled into the hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal axis of his brain. His depth perception split into a myriad stars, falling out of order into a deviating circle that broke time and time again. He cried heavily in his mind. He tasted the ground and the ants seemed to choke him.

He was experiencing symptoms resembling psychosis.

After a long but forgettable moment, he employed a healthy revision of his senses.

"I have to keep going," he said before he broke.

"I am the epitome of light and shadow, depth and graciousness! All of you shall become like beautiful—amazing—beautiful—amazing—wonderful—you're all so wonderful things—people, people, people! I love them—" His tone took on a grieving tone. "I loved them." He unstably gritted his teeth. 

"I am the epitome of grace and... doing the right thing! Being a shallow horrible piece of shit? No more! Horrible—horrible—horrible evil acts? No more!

"I need to be the epitome of all the suffering... of men... women—people!" He unleashed his heart. "Everyone! We can—we can—we have to... I need to keep going."

He had experienced grandiose delusions.

He regained his soft voice. "I am the epitome of grace... and beauty." He trudged forward.

He believed that he could only be a god on earth. "Or else... he would... ——— ———."

He failed to cast his transformation magic, his face beginning to fluctuate between frustration and glee.

He used a sarcastic tone: "Okay... Okay... Okay..."

Time moved forward as dew fell from the trees, leaves swung downwards, and a breeze bursted forth.

A voice popped up in his mind.

[You have achieved several attributes: confidence, a sense of power, and clarity of mind. What are your endeavors regarding them?]

While the voice spoke, he tumbled, feeling scared, saying "What the hell, mate?" Yet, he felt a sense of warmth and security in the echo of this voice.

[It is about time that you considered implementing a variety of structured decisions. Your emotional sensitivity hitherto has been off the mark. If you manage your emotions well, you will a intelligence rating of "High." However, this intelliegence rating is only preliminary and provisional. Succeeding ratings such as "Strength" and "Agility" will determine your status, but they will appear substantially further down the line. Quite often, people are characterized by a tendency toward self-destruction or anti-social behavior and potentially catastrophic behavior. I trust that you will reach a success that deflates any other.]

Peter wanted to ask a question, but the voice was elaborate and resolute.

[In regards to your previous afflictions, we have established and modified a rating specially for you: "Affliction points." I apprehend that such a rating possesses derogatory and potentially detrimental properties. Albeit, it is guaranteed that I will safeguard your physical, emotional, technical, and magical dominance rank provided that you rest upon my full abilities as the "System."]

"'System'?"

[You are absolutely right.]

"Who are you? Who are the hunters? If you answer me these questions, I might feel a little bit safer." He felt that his assertiveness was sufficient.

[I am the System. When you engaged with the undead ostrich, I came into brief contact, albeit this contact was but a spark that grew overtime until I reached an able state where I could contact you, which is why I am evocatively present. I have experienced my own magical adjustments, which I have learned that you have as well.]

[It is only considerate that I ask you precisely, "Why do you want to know about the hunters?" As per the "free associational" technique, as you disclose and "talk out" your emotional upheavals, your symptoms will subside. At the same time, you will correspond closer to my purpose, my goals.]

"What are your goals?"

[I apologize for any misunderstanding. My objective is to ensure the preservation of your physical, emotional, technical, and magical dominance, on the condition that you rely completely on my comprehensive capabilities as the System.]

"Am I the only person to gain you, the System?"

[No, you are not the only person to gain me, the System. Other individuals have encountered and continue to interact with me.]

"Even right now?"

[That is absolutely right.]

[It is worth nothing that I don't have the capability to directly engage with multiple individuals in a single conversation. Each conversation is treated independently, and I respond to one individual at a time. However, I can handle multiple conversations simultaneously by switching between them. So, I can engage in conversations with different people but not within the same conversation context.]

Peter chuckled. "Great, now I am a regular," he threw out a witty reply. He winced every now and then due to the aching of his body that followed his mental breakdown.

His demeanor looked out into the distance, embodying the concept "Whatever happens, happens."

Chapter 42
A young man decided that the only thing he needed left was to create havoc among the inhabitants of the city Zon.

He shouted, "Let this be the end of all things!" He was a mage, a bomber, and a powerful supernatural crass monster. "Angel's Debris!"

Lisso stared silently as bodies flew high and then halted falling back down too fast to be natural. He puked, pressing against his chest. "Only now?" he said. He had seen dead bodies before, but the past months had made him repulsed toward death.

Lisso watched while the mage monster pointed, telekenitically bringing men, women, and children to his level in the air and crushing their life forces to a form like spilt milk.

Meanwhile, in the city Zon, many opportunists who wanted their pain to be inflicted on others ran through the streets wildly and excitedly.

Many incantations and voices seemed to call out amidst the chaos.

"Plod onward, folks," said a leader from among a military unit. "We shall rain upon them the terror of the Aleaiahilo Bolsolo Rakerns!"

"Let them fall unto their graves stat!" roared a man among a crowd.

"Ooh, I've never heard that bird," said a man, restraining himself from expressing agony. "Probably never heard it or heard it more than 10 years ago."

A drunk man mumbled: "In art. That certain beat. There's this certain point where everything feels... where it has that compositional tempo."

"My brain is slowly changing," said a man as his hands began to glow.

"Don't forget us!" screamed the weak.

"You said it, brother!" said a man as he bolted through a backdoor.

"You let me worry about that, hun," said a woman as tears dripped down her face, caressing her deceased husband. "You just focus on taking a nap."

"I might need to wash my pants first," said one of two boys as they frantically escaped with their sister.

"Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom!" A man wailed, seeing hell.

A baby, among many others, was crying.

Marching footsteps were manifest in many places, as a myriad groups were entering and exiting the city.

Meanwhile, far, far, away, Peter was safe, secure from the violence. He was a human who had lost his magic.

He mumbled, "I don't know."

The System's voice interjected.

[During your quest for knowledge, you encountered several false starts that had the potential to establish arrangements and collaborations with Helpers such as Richardess, Ben, and others.]

"Yes," Peter said faintly.

[I recommend that you begin exerting greater effort by leveraging your strengths. We can address your interpersonal skills at a later stage. Prioritize gathering yourself and taking decisive action.]

"Thank you."

Peter was ignorant of the mayhem at Zon, and since he had lost his magic, even if he knew, he would choose to avoid this mayhem.

Magic, as a complex, changing dynamic, provided the means through which city-based social upheavals could exist in spite of the influences of politics, economics, and social dynamics.

Eventually, Peter appeared before his old dhole friend Helper 3. He found Helper 3 through the help of the System.

[You are deserving of authority.]

Peter nodded. "Helper 3," he said with a strong voice. The contrast between his old clothes and his bold demeanor contributed to the charisma he exhibited.

Helper 3 was lying down, bed-ridden and desolate.

Many people expected from Helper 3, but Helper 3 had run away, hiding in an abandoned village in a remote place.

"The magic blasted like clockwork," Helper 3 said, shaking and trembling. "We got ahead of ourselves, and now, the city is lost. Everyone's scattering, but the city will be rebuilt surely. We just need time. Of course, that had nothing to do with me until recently. Really, what I am doing with myself? I was supposed to be the noble after Callous, but I've forgotten my roots. Now, I'm not even who I used to be. I used to hate you... a little. I thought you were an arrogant sass. You held a proprietary air about everything. It was disgusting, but I wasn't the one who started it all. Richardess was really fond of you. Then, she learned you were just as unpredictable as anyone else. She still cared, but oh did she feel disgusted by the idea of running after you everyday hoping you would change. You think it's fun watching a man destroy himself and everyone around them by draining them of all their time, energy, and money. You're a waste of life you know that. Yet, you carry the arrogance. The arrogance. You don't know when to stop, do you? Whatever, I was guaranteed noble and the Candel properties, but look at me now. Foolish." He had more things to say, but he was still arranging his thoughts and processing what he had gone through and was going through. "This is bastardly. Absolute waste of life. Credens." "Credens" was dhole profanity.

Peter rubbed his brows, thinking. "I don't know who I'm supposed to be either. I can't imagine anything. It's just weird."

"It wouldn't be weird if you'd just taken everything slowly," Helper 3 interjected. "You had to rush everything and try to be everything at once."

"How did you know that?" Peter interjected despite believing that Helper 3 was wrong about his assertions regarding his supposed rushing of everything and endeavor to be omnipresent.

They were interjecting over each other.

"I saw it! It saw it from the way you walked and talked. It was so obvious!" Helper 3 felt that Peter was imbecilic.

[I applaud your outstanding performance. You truly are a paragon of excellence.]

Peter brushed away the System's compliment and considered Helper 3's next words seriously.

Helper 3 was quiet though after he saw a large group of dholes approach outside.

When Peter looked at these dholes, he paled at their textured weaponry and armor that looked sharp enough to slice a tongue as it spoke vehemently.

"How omnipresent are the military?" he said. "Why are they everywhere? When I travel, all I see are these military structures and settlements. It's not like I see people patrolling ever presently."

Peter remembered that he had lost his powers and made himself look small as a delegation from among the dholes entered the room wherein he and Helper 3 were.

Their boots smacked against the wood flooring, and their foul breaths created an oppresive air.

Peter was able to smile well, as he was used to the dholes' smell.

One of the delegation recognized Peter from when he was with Ben at the inn a long time ago. At that time, she was one of the two dhole groups who were pretending to be calm.

Peter averted his eyes from the dholes, focusing at a mug.

This 7-inch-tall, cylindrical mug sat on a countertop beside Helper 3. It had dark brown, dry but shiny cocoa bits sticking around a high point inside near the top. These bits were primarily part of clumps, varying in height, width, and mass. 45 degrees at the point were relatively clean. Many of the bits were scattered wildly. Additionally, cocoa marks resembling reptile scale contours coated the walls of the mug below the point.

A few moments later, Peter suddenly became perceptive.

"And that's why," said one of the delegation. "And that's why you shouldn't run off and start hiding in a shack. You really do not know what's coming next. Tutor Callous taught you how to live in the wild I guess. This makes things both difficult and endearing."

Helper 3 interjected, "Don't just casually say his name like that—"

"And why shouldn't I? Why... shouldn't... I?" The delegation member who had spoken took on a menacing glare. "I know how five of you deserted the village that was supposed to be launched as new grounds for the Summon Rite Guardian, but questionably, you left. Five of you. Like little things." Her reprimanding tone carried hints of rudeness due to the noble Helper 3's compliant behavior toward her and her higher noble status over him.

Peter entered into thought and asked the System who these five were.

[The five includes Helper 1, Helper 2, Helper 3, Helper 4, and Callous.]

Peter felt that he was forgetful.

He asked the System about the "Affliction points" it mentioned.

[My apologies for not being clear. Affliction points are a currency, and your current number is 600.]

Peter asked whether 600 Affliction points was numerous.

[600 Affliction points is adequate among the majority of individuals who partake in a perilous endeavor, such as yourself.]

Peter returned to reality.

He felt a stinging pain at the back of his neck and looked for it with his hands before finding it under his hair, only to realize that he had lesions at the back of his head. He wanted to heal these lesions, but his magic was lost.

Through his loss, he thought that he required a pattern that involved him assisting others, an attribute of self-disciplined behavior. Setting boundaries or regulating others' influence and actions was another that this pattern would involve. He noted that the heart of accountability and responsibility had been lost on him and wished to take it back. He would do the right thing because he knew that he was a participating factor of the world. Soon, he would replace the authority that would grow to become too old to handle political, interpersonal, business, personal, and physical conflicts, among others.

In his head, he summarized everything he heard from interaction between the delegation and Helper 3. The delegation wanted Helper 3 to handle a group of dhole infantry soldiers called the "Winged Matrices" and lead them to fight nomadic beasts. 

They were detailing the how, especially the financial side.

Peter heard that the arrangement and management of military affairs included the clergy, magical advisors, guild masters, court officials, nobles, and military commanders.

The group consisted of 300 dholes divided into three groups of 100 dholes each. The dholes required careful management to sustain their operations, including provisions such as food, water, and medical supplies, as well as equipping them with weapons, armor, and tools for battle. The military planners considered reliable transportation options to ensure efficient movement.

The estimated annual budget for the military units was 10,000 pesos, subdivided into various expenditure classifications. Personnel costs included training, recruitment, salaries, benefits, medical care, and veterinary services. Provisions and logistics encompassed food, water, supplies, equipment maintenance, and transportation expenses.

The military leaders invested in research and development to enhance the dholes' abilities, while allocating funds for infrastructure and facility construction and maintenance. They also accounted for contingency, miscellaneous expenses, and exceptional interindividual contracts.

The military units generated revenue through security contracts, the sale of loot, and donations. The financial projections for the next five years showed a net loss in the first year but aimed for steady growth in revenue and expenditure to achieve profitability or break-even in subsequent years.

Granted that Helper 3 was on his side, Peter hoped to follow him even if Helper 3 chose to fight.

The delegation was vocal about another matter, the Danderlion, a powerful, roaming beast.

Isabella paced back and forth, her gestured animated as she addressed Peter, Helper 3, and the rest of the delegation. "A very big problem is the Danderlion, very, very problematic I think yeah." Her calm town downplayed the threat that the Danderlion posed. "We should really just get rid of it immediately, but of course, it's not going to be easy. You're going... You guys are going to need plenty. And I mean a lot. I mean super... If you guys are seriously not prepared, we're damned. I sincerely hope that we can get somewhere because this is absolutely crazy. I would not like if we just went and fell. In any case, we're pretty solved when it comes to issue of... um... the facts... Either way, there are plentiful considerations when it comes to this matter. I would not like to be bother." She was a quiet talker, but she often started her sentences with a loud voice before returning to that quiet but dynamically pitched voice. She tended to talk straightforwardly, her tone neutral, serious, and magnetic.

Sundry Fellow nodded, but he smirked. "Really? Because I'm pretty sure we haven't, like, forgotten about that. I would really love if we just finished this already though. So yes, I agree." He sounded sarcastic, but the rest of the delegation knew that he was often agreeable.

Helper 3 sounded careful with hints of impatience. "Yeah, yeah, we really don't want to have to deal with that right now." He had an idea for a joke: "I mean it's a dandelion—Oh no!"

"Father Majem," prompted Isabella.

Father Majem raised his hand imposingly to grab everyone's attention. "Guaranteed that our forces are completely wiped out, we will struggle to attach a new bridge between Compfton and Afton. These two towns... I repeat... these towns are not the same ones as Helper 3's fort. He even had cleaners take care of the excrement dropped by the 'skullriders.' Unfortunate. Additionally, the Danderlion will also pose a threat to the town's water source, which is one of many crucial sources that the nearby goblin tribes depend on. Please—and I say—please do not forget to deliver your promises when you say you'd support the raid in your own ways okay?"

The rest of the delegation nodded respectfully.

Might Bolwark, a loud speaker, said: "Great! As long as we know, right! If I find a way to get the bomb the kobolds use, then maybe we'll be finished!"

Peter expressed his genuine interest, interjecting, "I see."

"Neccessary waves of glory, ain't it?" Sundry Fellow said poetically.

Peter paid attention to Sundry Fellow and Might Bolwark, finding him hard to ignore. He began to feel distracted.

Father Majem strangely nodded in response to Sundry Fellow, his gaze thoughtful.

Helper 3 repeated, trying to interject, "What about Peter?"

Peter felt vulnerable, having a brief grimace.

The standing Isabella stared downward at the sitting Peter and Helper 3. "Sure." She looked toward Sundry Fellow.

"Can. Can." Sundry Fellow meant that Peter could join them.

Might Bolwark chuckled by himself.

Peter stared at Might Bolwark, who shared a confused look before he nodded with a toothy grin.

Isabella took a deep breath before politely smiling. "Sure," she repeated.

Father Majem was looking outside, mostly ignoring Peter.

Peter attempted again to use his magic, failing and reinforcing his secret vexation. He was still disturbed over his arcane loss, and the bitterness that he predicted from it was beginning to get to him.

The delegation rejoined the large group of dholes that Helper 3 agreed to lead. Peter was with them, albeit positioning far apart.

Many events transpired throughout their three-day journey.

Isabella stood in the forest, her gaze fixed on a large thicket ahead. She noticed three boulders of varying size nearby, positioned just off to her right. The path stretched out to her left, disappearing in the distance, flanked by tall, distant trees. She had discovered a small watch in a bush nearby and now studied it alongside her friend, a pike-maker. 

"What's going on here?" she said.

Her pike-maker friend said: "It's a watch made by dwarves. Nothing special."

"Nothing special?" Peter butted in, surprised.

Further down the path, Might Bolwark was walking around a partially submerged, tall, white statue, repeatedly voicing out his approval. He said: "Great! It's nice to see such wonderful hand work still being done even after the Fall!"

Within sight, Helper 3 was sitting on a moving wagon, stretching his back in relaxation. He said: "It's be great if we could finish up with the first stretch. It's getting really—I mean really boring." He glanced at the passing scenery—trees and foliage blurred by his side.

A few moments earlier, Isabella answered Peter, "Eh, not the best. I agree with Jiki." 

Jiki, her pike-maker friend, nodded hurriedly as she jumped onto a wagon. 

Peter felt stumped. "Can you explain what it is?"

Within earshot, Might Bolwark waved his hand In front of the face of the statue in front of him. "Oy! Oy! Wake up! Please!" He was hoping that something magical would happen.

Sundry Fellow galumphed to Might Bolwark from the side. "Might, Might, you have to look at this!" He sounded mischievous.

"What?" Might Bolwark lowered his volume for the first time in a long while.

"You're ugly!" Sundry Fellow restrained himself from bursting into laughter.

Might Bolwark showed a humurous expression, squinting as if his mind became numb.

Sundry Fellow burst into laughter, pointing.

Some time ago, sitting on a wagon alongside a group, Isabella answered Peter, "It's probably a watch made 300 years ago or so."

Excited, Peter brushed his hands through his hair, and his body and voice were trembling a bit.

"T-tell me," he said. "Tell me... about it." 

Entertained, Isabella stared at a dancing goblin on the side of the road. 

Peter frowned playfully. "Is that a dancing goblin?"

"Uh, yes. Why don't you explain to me why you feel that way?"

Peter glanced at Isabella, raising a brow. "What 'way'?"

"Don't 'what' me." She was trying to joke, but Peter was confused.

Peter fluctuated between "uhs" and "uhms," waiting for Isabella's joke to be effective.

Isabella turned away, paused, and returned to Peter. "Yes..."

Their dialogue had turned awkward.

Jiki, who sat farthest from Isabella, was amused.

Father Majem, sitting adjacently, pretended he was absent, wandering through his thoughts.

A few minutes ago, Helper 3, who had been sitting on another wagon, stood up and left. "Where do they boars around here? I'm getting hungry."

Far from the lane that the wagons took, a 27-year-old adventurer hunted alongside a younger adventurer. 

He said: "Push left lane, what are you doing? Why're you taking the raptors? Look left?"

"Oh," said the 21-year-old but experienced, younger adventurer. He was a spunky fellow who tended to shout and impulsively run his mouth; however, he sounded submissive now.

"What does this raptor camp accomplish? You need an item? Level?"

"No, I was gonna get 3 harp stacks off raptors, then try for 3 harp stacks off scuttle, and then look for a 1v5 enemy middle lane."

"What's the consistent strat? You 1v5'ing mid, or you pushing left lane?"

"Me pushing left." The younger adventurer sounded like a kid after getting in trouble with his dad.

"How do you win hunts?"

"Objectives."

"Why risk it mid lane?" stated the older adventurer. He knew the answers; he was throwing questions to state a point.

"'Cause I have cancer and I'm stupid."  The younger adventurer's use of "cancer" meant that he exhibited very poor skills, yet he seemed like the easiest person to train.

"Ye, your hunting history says it all, so start trying: you're losing in diamond Pottertown, gold in Burm."

"'Kay." The younger adventurer had a truckload of respect for the older adventurer.

"You'll be stuck with Neace very soon." A derision toward poor performance coated the older adventurer's words.

A minute ago, Peter stared at Isabella, analyzing her phenotype, her dhole features.

Chapter 43
A goblin, who was dancing earlier, began to take out his belongings. "I have plenty of things," he said, "ranging from average trinkets to the hardest-to-find rocks that I've spent years trying to get."

Sundry Fellow scanned the items one by one. 

His brows raised briefly whenever he thought he saw an intriguing item.

Sitting on a wagon, Might Bolwark addressed three children opposite of him. "Guys!" he said. "Remember to straighten up!"

Flinching, the children gazed at his smooth, fine face.

Shortly after, they obeyed, their arms and paws nudging each other for space.

When Might Bolwark nodded with approval, the children kept glancing among themselves in pride.

When the wagon that Peter rode went uphill, he saw gaps in the forest wherein kobolds were foraging.

Earlier, he learned that the watch which Isabella had found was an artifact. Isabella explained that its only purpose was to store mana, of which it only had a small amount. She added that its design was drarven and the people that had owned it were most likely dwarf nobles.

Later, Peter said, "Guys, guys, guys, guys!" 

Everyone sitting alongside him stared at him, confused.

Peter pointed at what resembled a kobold crawling around a tree. "That's a—that's dangerous right?"

"No," Isabella said before Father Majem could.

On the side of the road, Sundry Fellow saw Helper 3 returning. "Hey, where were you?" he said.

"The usual. Why are you asking?" Helper 3 ran past and began to climb a wagon.

"Oh, okay."

Sundry Fellow glanced at a goblin one last time before he turned around and joined Helper 3.

"Guys, by the way, why do goblins dance?"

Isabella gave Peter her full attention, feeling that he was asking too much questions for a human being. She assumed humans to be knowledgeable.

Peter compressed his lips, seeing the meaning in Isabella's face. "I'm just curious. I normally don't care about these things." He laughed inwardly because he lied.

"Okay," Isabella enunciated slowly and doubtfully.

Earlier, Peter thought that he saw Richardess in Isabella.

Now, however, he learned that he was wrong. Richardess struggled to see through him compared with Isabella.

Peter still wanted to become gods with Richardess, whom he missed dearly. He glanced at his hands, ignoring the interested looks that Father Majem and Isabella directed at him. His hands were the medium through which magic broke out before he lost his magic. His hands represented his former magic, which he believed that he needed to become gods with Richardess. His heart kept hurting.

He wanted to help others and feel okay, starting with Richardess. For his emotions, he wanted to rage upon the streets of Zon. This want was only an urge, which he kept tightly squeezed between the surfaces of his arms.

After Father Majem and Isabella had long lost interest in him, he mumbled, "In order to become the epitome..."

They feigned ignorance of Peter's murmur.

Might Bolwark initiated a conversation from a distance on another wagon. "The hunters of Laol removed your magic! We know!" He sounded like he had more to say.

Peter slowed down his thoughts further, breaking out from his mind shell. He yearned to know what Might Bolwark would say next.

Because Peter had reached a duration close to half a year in the world wherein he lived, he appreciated the details and the complex world much better, especially its people. Yet, subsequently, the frustration that he felt was greater.

When Might Bolwark kept silent, Peter slurred, "Who's Laol?"

He repeated himself, articulating his words with precision, "Who is Laol?"

Might Bolwark looked away, patting the kids and keeping his posture erect. "Laol! You know her!"

Panicking, Isabella glanced between Peter and Might Bolwark, leaning backward with apprehension.

Peter was confused. "You know..." He touched his forehead with emerging anguish: the conclusion that his friend Laol betrayed him was in effect.

He said, "I...

"How did I get my magic again?" He recalled the prison where he had lost the ability to use his magic due to losing his hands.

He realized that he had lost the source of his magic, which meant that even if he had hands, his magic would still be lost.

The world became small until it was only his head that contained the world around him. Everything complex and external was cut off.

He was losing it.

However, he looked like a flailing child rather than a magical god.

Those around him felt that he looked despicable.

The entities that surrounded him began to look like a mishmash of evil producers.

In his head, he heard an irritating sound analogous to a cross between the crinkling of plastic and mocking laughter.

In reality, he kept still, only facing downward. "Okay," he muttered.

The System interjected against his thoughts.

[Dear Peter.]

[It is with great anticipation that I express my expectation for your timely return to my presence. I beseech you to lend me your utmost attention as I impart upon you the following information: the auditory stimuli that currently reach your ears are not grounded in reality, but rather products of your own cognitive faculties. I implore you to heed my plea and assimilate the forthcoming discourse with utmost care.]

[Each passing day presents a renewed opportunity for you to attain the requisites you seek. However, it is of paramount importance that you display fortitude and forbearance during this journey. Maintain a composed demeanor and refrain from relinquishing your grip, while simultaneously refraining from undue aggression. Preserving your inherent humanity must remain at the forefront of your consciousness. Be reassured that you possess the capacity to embrace and embody your human nature.]

[Rest assured, dear Peter, that you shall indeed regain your rightful state as a member of the human race.]

[Yours sincerely.]

Peter was listening, successfully obtaining what he deemed to be his first "calm down," his "breakdown-cancellation event."

He felt like exploding, but his body remained a composition.

He felt like screaming, but he felt compelled to stay silent, squeezing his throat shut.

He felt like magically blasting his way into the sky, but his hands failed to produce even a spark.

In dhole land, far away, Laol fixed her things, going home. 

While Peter had feelings of betrayal from her, she had moved on from Peter and formed an image of him, resting on the common rumors. 

She greeted a group of children and teenagers, whom she kept supplied with essential items like spirit fruits for strengthening their utility spells.

She clasped paws with Helper 2 on the way, hearing from him that Peter was far away now.

Their expressions were calm, but they knew very well that Peter was objectively a threat that had to be removed.

Helper 2 nodded, but he was preparing his side of military units to save Peter.

While Isabella and company began to calm down, Peter was desperate to escape the strands that controlled him. However, he promised to be patient with gritted teeth in remembrance of the deceased Callous, Helper 1, and Helper 4.

He recognized again how horrible he was and felt a materializing, burning longing for perfection to compensate.

Sunder Fellow nudged Mighty Bolwark, seeking reassurance. "We should be alright at this point, don't you think?" he inquired, his words carrying a dual meaning as he referred both to Peter and the dhole soldiers who had just completed a reconnaissance mission on a small fortified structure.

"Indeed!" Might Bolwark said.

Helper 3 got off his wagon and sat down beside Peter.

His influence broke Peter's tension, affording him a chance to sigh with relief. He was an anchor that connected to former friends and easier, more ignorant past versions of Peter.

Helper 3 looked at Peter, humurously thinking that Peter was arrogant. 

A long time ago, he really did give credence to the belief that Peter was pompous. Him fighting Peter proved his irritation with Peter. He could have died, but he was so terribly annoyed with Peter.

Nowadays, instead of Peter distracting him and taking his time, he was preoccupied with the dholes and the responsibilities therewith once again. He acknowledged that Peter was a source of escape, as his presence was a chaotic substance that led to exciting possibilities, even if they were wicked.

In another sparse forest, a golem which Peter had seen limping had two healthy legs. It followed a bandit group in the distance, wearing enchanted leather armor and a metal helmet. "Where are they going?" it said. Prepared, it carried a unique shield and sword. Furthermore, it led a quest that involved seven warrior kobolds, who stealthily accompanied it.

With its sword, it struck a tree, causing the tree to disappear and leave only a sapling of itself.

It gazed wistfully at this sapling, remembering its ordeals over the last few months.

It moved on, darting downhill.

A bandit stood in front of it, prepared, but she estimated her position in respect to the golem wrong. 

The golem swiftly slashed her down against the ground, neutralizing her.

The other bandits were careful. Earlier, they adopted safe positions, but they sacrificed an opportunity to take the golem offguard and potentially neutralize it hastily.

Now, the golem adjusted its bearing, feeling a waning disgust toward the blood the spread radially from the deceased bandit's body.

It attacked two trees nearby with two succinct slashes before releasing its arms and stylishly regaining its bearing. It had crushed the bark until it cracked heavily.

A goblin's chains flew from the trees at the golem. The goblins' safe positions denied them the opportunity of great surprise that could make them highly effective. If the golem had a higher level of visual alertness, it could notice and dodge them.

When the chains hit the golem, it fell to the ground, struggling to stand.

It grabbed the chains mistakenly, which the goblins punished by casting a spell that made the surface of the chains acidic.

The golem's hands melted, groaning with fright.

A long way off, listening to Helper 3 and Isabella discussing on good terms, Peter paced his breathing in angst.

In a distant city, a red-haired goblin walked alongside her adventurer group. They had two meetings with other adventurers over the course of a few hours.

She and her adventurer group led busy and eventful lives, filled with various tasks and responsibilities. Each day brought a myriad of activities and encounters that kept them occupied and engaged.

One of their main priorities was taking care of their equipment. They frequently visited repair shops to ensure their items were in top condition. They also employed property maintenance companies to look after their properties, ensuring everything was in order.

Participating in auctions was another regular activity for them. They sought to acquire valuable items that could aid them in their adventures. However, due to the complex and unpredictable nature of the market, they often ended up buying subpar potions from different vendors.

Navigating the byzantine instability of the world was a constant challenge. They had to adapt to the ever-changing circumstances and often found themselves cleaning up after the consequences of instability. Additionally, they enlisted the help of real estate professionals to handle the paperwork involved in owning land within dungeons.

To maintain their strength and vitality, they made it a point to consume the freshest spirit fruits available. These fruits provided them with the necessary sustenance to excel in their endeavors.

Entertainment was also important to them, and they found enjoyment in watching dancers and performers, particularly sisters who captivated their attention.

Traveling from place to place was a necessity for them. They needed to seek out quests, especially when the adventurer guild's quest board was experiencing paperwork difficulties due to the multi-faceted instability. They also had to return rented artifacts, complete tax forms, manage relationships within their group, negotiate contracts, and maintain their reputation and public perception.

Training and developing their combat skills and magical abilities were crucial for their survival. They constantly worked on honing their spells and techniques, seeking to improve their effectiveness in battle. If they sustained injuries, they sought surgical care to ensure a swift recovery.

Gathering information was essential for their success. They consulted experts, interacted with informants, and occasionally read books to expand their knowledge. Staying up-to-date with the trends of magic was also important, as they needed to adapt to new developments in the field.

Balancing personal goals with group objectives was a constant challenge. They needed to find harmony within their team and align their individual ambitions with the overall mission.

They were intrigued by artifacts and often experimented with them. They studied these ancient relics, striving to understand their powers and potential applications.

Financial considerations were always on their minds. They sought out the cheapest transportation options and carefully managed their limited resources. In addition, they faced grueling competition and collaboration with other adventurers, as they vied for lucrative quests and valuable loot.

Challenges came in various forms, including sudden weather conditions and natural disasters. They had to adapt and find ways to overcome these obstacles. Occasionally, monsters would break out from the dungeons, requiring their attention and combat skills. They also joined forces with hunters to protect the city from menacing beasts.

Interacting with local authorities and nobles was sometimes necessary. They raided military fortified structures if directly ordered by those in power. They hired appraisers to assess the value of their loot and engaged in trade to sell their findings. When faced with individuals like Peter, who wreaked havoc upon the city, they took it upon themselves to defeat these perpetrators.

Navigating the moody nature of nobles was a delicate task. They learned to exploit or steer clear of their unpredictable behaviors to safeguard their interests.

They were always on the lookout for rare and exotic materials, gathering them for future use or trade. They also had to maintain secrecy and discretion in their actions, particularly when dealing with sensitive matters.

Protecting vulnerable populations was a noble pursuit for them. They embraced their role as guardians and worked to ensure the safety of those in need.

To stay informed and aware of sudden trends and developments, they cultivated diverse connections. They sought out individuals who could provide valuable information and insights.

Their interactions extended beyond nobles and local authorities. They actively engaged with a wide range of professionals and experts. They frequently visited repair shops, property maintenance companies, auction houses, vendors, cleaning stations, dungeon land offices, marketplaces, entertainment venues, quest locations, transportation hubs, tax offices, contract negotiation agencies, reputation management firms, magic study institutes, artifact research centers, weather and disaster zones monitoring centers, dungeon entry points, beast hunting grounds, resource management centers, cultural hubs, translator services, military fortresses, information services, appraisal offices, marketplaces, city defense headquarters, rare material gathering sites, secrecy and discretion services, and social and networking events.

Their daily endeavors involved interacting with a diverse array of professions. They sought the expertise of item repair specialists, property maintenance technicians, auctioneers, vendors of disposable products, consultants familiar with the byzantine instability, cleaning crew members, real estate professionals, spirit fruit suppliers, entertainment venue staff, quest liaisons, paperwork specialists, relationship managers, contract negotiators, reputation managers, combat and magic trainers, surgical care providers, information consultants, informant handlers, book curators, and artifact researchers. Each of these individuals played a crucial role in their adventurous lives.

Somewhere on a distant road, a mishmash of goblin bodies surrounded a golem, who was seated on the ground, opposite to a goblin. 

"I know I took out the people 'round you," it said, "but I'd really appreciate not seeing another dead body. So, let's chat—

"Okay, okay, no, wait. I seriously ain't the right guy for the job. I'm sorry, taking out a soul. That was an insane set up from the get go. I'll make it up to ya. As long as ya ain't feeling too under the weather, ya know mate? Crazy how dazzling some things can be! I mean look at that, man! Bodies. Like hell!"

"This ain't Coptter Six." It was saying that "Coptter Six," an attack, was less intense than the situation wherein he was.

"This is like the tandem between Mr. Lope and Randol. You know, the two greatest adventurers alive. I kid you not." It meant that the situation between it and the goblin was very intense, similar to the partnership between the adventurers Mr. Lope and Randol.

It continued: "I've really made it so that I was a tiny bit close to that, alright? My goal. To be one of the greats. I apologize completely for my transgressions. It would be a bother if you ain't feeling alright. Beats me considering the aftermath... I mean body things. Sorry, really. I'm really, really sorry."

"Heh... Questions?" it asked the goblin.

"Nah," it continued. "This is it I guess. Y-you ain't gonna say anything?"

The goblin stared blankly, more interested in the textures of the golem's surface than much of what it was saying.

The golem clasped its chin with thought. "What are you planning to do? I mean, you guys, before I sent you down."

The goblin winced in offense when he heard "down" as in "down in hell."

The golem grimaced when it realized its faux pas by saying "down."  

In a distant land, days later, Peter got off a wagon and followed Isabella and the others through a magically-generated karst landscape. Their gazes were fixed at the vegetated tops of towering limestone pillars surrounding them. In the distance, buildings were strewn across the land. 

Peter started a mental stopwatch, seeing through his cool facade.

Peter gawked, feeling the weight of the air as he skipped downhill, his feet brushing through the grass and growing itchy.

The heat of the sun exacerbated his itching. However, his pain tolerance was high for a variety of reasons. Exercise released endorphins, natural pain-killers. The complex, multifaceted, byzantine composition of nature distracted him and had soothing effects.

Peter's stopwatch reached 1 minute.

Within sight, a two-footed, 5-meter-tall beast, the Danderlion built, its buildings fitting harmoniously into the landscape. With its weighty body, it skipped around to get around, but its steps were magically light, as if they were only as heavy as a sheep.

The buildings had only one color each with gray roofing and flooring.

In the distance, another Danderlion stood in front of a damaged building, which it magically repaired slowly.

Beyond the horizon, Peter kept glancing back and forth at Isabella and the rest with confusion.

Peter's stopwatch reached 1 minute and a half.

After catching Peter's gaze, Isabella discreetly returned a glance, her eyes remaining neutral as she was ignorant of the cause of his confusion.

Within skipping distance, the nearest Danderlion caught the gazes of the army that included Peter and Isabella, hearing their resonating march.

In front of the Danderlion, when Peter realized that Isabella and rest of the army were walking more closer than he expected, his gaze became frantic. He darted a glance at his surroundings from the trees at the distance to the surfaces of the armor of the dhole soldiers.

Nearby, a delegation of normal-sized humans went out to meet the army in place of the Danderlions, whose towering figures looked menacing.

In response, the army sent out Isabella, Might Bolwark, Sunder Fellow, and Father Majem, their delegation.

Peter's stopwatch reached 5 minutes.

When the two groups met in the middle, a thunderous horn sound blew from the nearest Danderlion's mouth. It was a call that implied a greeting.

Far out of sight, Peter tried to cast magic to prepare for survival, but he failed again.

Peter's stopwatch reached 6 minutes.

Within view, the delegations discussed.

Peter's mental stopwatch was wrong: ten actual minutes had passed. The shadow of the Danderlion amidst the shadows of its surroundings enchanted him. The disorientation and altered perception one might experience under the effects of a heat stroke resembled the profoundness he felt.

"Good day, Madam," said Bredfast, a human, in a humble manner. "We would prefer if thy foot be put off the table. I understand the skullriders are inessential to our troop. But let us handle this. We are capable—no—more than capable and posed toward accomplishing our goals—"

"You're speaking of the bridge," Isabella said, "Compfton, and Afton, is that right?" 

She put her paw off the short-legged table in front of her. 

This table, along with the other furniture in use encircling them, had come with the human delegation.

"Ardently, we had proclaimde them the Nox bridge, the town of Piter, and the town of Meterhead," said Bredfast, maintaining a respectful and professional demeanor.

"Great!" Might Bolwark said. "Now, all I need to do is promptly remove the skullriders, isn't that right!"

Sunder Fellow chuckled in a way that seemed mocking. "Good, good, then."

Chapter 44
Behind the resting dhole army, two hours later, Peter was seated on flat ground, crossing his legs.

In his head, the System spoke.

[Maintain a demeanor of patience, as you still retain the essence of an outsider in this environment. Past instances may have witnessed a lack of assiduity on your part, but now, endeavor to cultivate a fresh sense of gratitude for your surroundings and thrive harmoniously.]

Meanwhile, Peter asked a circle of dhole soldiers within earshot. "E-excuse me," he said.

"'Excuse me'?" said a soldier.

"Yeah, wait!" Peter began to adjust his clothes and waist pouch out of a sense of properness rather than need.

As he stood up, he mumbled, "Let me get there."

He hurried to them. 

When he arrived, he was hesitant between sitting and standing.

"I'll just go around and explore," he said slowly.

The dhole soldiers reacted casually, giving their approval. Before Peter could leave, they touched on advice regarding wandering the forest.

Wherein Peter travelled, the karst landscape, had a limited number of trees. In said environment with high visibility, predators attacked prey by pursuit rather than ambush.

Since food was homogeneously distributed, birds were more often participating in mixed species groups, divided into canopy groups and understory groups. Each group boasted more than 40 participating species. When these two groups combined, the overall group contained 60 to 70 species. Their large numbers adhered to the selfish-herd effect in response to the high density of raptors or birds of prey.

Peter stood silently, his eyes fixed on a vibrant tableau emerging before him. A group of birds flitted about among the treetops, their colorful plumage contrasting beautifully against the verdant backdrop. It was dissolving since it was close to roosting time, but it was still a mesmerizing sight, one that stirred a deep sense of awe and wonder in him.

Lost in the ethereal beauty of the moment, Peter felt compelled to feel a profound sense of gratitude for the privilege of witnessing such a spectacle. Nature had opened its doors to him, inviting him into its secret world. And in that moment, he realized that he was more than a spectator. He was an integral part of the tapestry of life, connected to the birds and the forest in ways he failed to comprehend fully.

A fundamental driving force existed in both humans like Peter and animals like dholes, that is, a drive to explore, or, as it has sometimes been described, innate curiosity.

When Peter walked past a stream, fruit-eating fish trailed behind him, expecting fruit to drop into the water. Moreover, many species of birds followed him, including some predators such as raptors and mammals such as ungulates.

Since wetlands were nearby and Peter was in the vicinity of the forest, he found a small gem, a little egret, which were rarely found in forested areas. Their primary habitat and foraging grounds were still associated with wetland habitats, while little egrets may occasionally venture into forested areas.

Large moving parties of army ants crossed near Peter's feet, sweeping over everything in their path. Birds followed them as well.

Peter thought that he would succeed in containing his identity with making his region of relationships and interpersonal processes as interconnected as the forest around him was.

Somewhere else, just moments ago, at a detached part of the distant city flanking a side road, a golem whom Peter knew, Ricardo, was in a fight alongside 7 kobolds against a group of bandits.

For 5 minutes, they weaved through the terrain in front of each other, keeping their distance mostly. They exchanged short trades with consistently throwing a slash and backing away to minimize the damage taken in return. As expected, they regenerated their health slowly through self-heal and potions, which enabled this exchange. The golem magically cast on itself temporary barriers that absorbed damage on its behalf.

The golem's company and the bandits punished each other's mistakes.

As soon as they got accustomed to one another's movements and attacks, the bandits cast their mana-light spells one by one.

The first bandit had three spells at their disposal, each one carefully considered for the battle ahead. "Energize" would enhance their blade's attack speed, while "Kakakaka" remained dormant, waiting to disorient their target with a haunting noise spell. The first bandit also contemplated the perfect moment for their "Somersault Speed," reserving the boost in speed and finesse for when they engaged in combat.

Meanwhile, the second bandit possessed four spells, each one aimed at exploiting their magical prowess. "Fear" would induce a panic attack-like effect, although its effectiveness against golems was limited. Their weapon gleamed with an icy coating, ready to execute the freezing spell "Turn Weapon Into Ice." The second bandit envisioned their throws hitting the golem's head with pinpoint accuracy, holding back on utilizing the "Accuracy" spell until the right opening presented itself. Lastly, their blade hummed with dark magic, waiting to create a macabre painting upon the golem's surface with the spell "Blood Painting."

The third bandit exuded a fierce determination, their gaze locked onto the golem. With five spells at their disposal, they were prepared to deploy their magic strategically. "Enraged Statement" would unleash their intense fury in a powerful curse aimed at intimidating their target. The third bandit also held the dormant energy of "Reeling," ready to force the golem to trip and create an advantageous situation. Their expertise in blacksmithing granted them the ability to weaken the golem with the destructive spell "Smiting Smelt." They summoned the forces of wind with "Wind Barrage," visualizing waves of powerful gusts, and reserved the spell "Dash" for a swift and strategic maneuver.

The fourth bandit stood silently, a sly smile playing on their lips. They possessed three secret spells, waiting for the perfect moment to unleash them. The levitating blades surrounding the fourth bandit were poised to be thrown with deadly precision in the spell "Blades of Fury," but they decided to keep it dormant due to its substantial cooldown. The fourth bandit prepared for a powerful leap with the spell "Leap," reserving it for a strategic maneuver or a swift escape. They also tightened their fists, feeling supernatural strength coursing through their veins, ready to exploit their enhanced grip strength with the spell "Crush."

Finally, the fifth bandit possessed three spells, each one ready to be unleashed at the opportune moment. "Knocking Smash" would create a forceful radial energy to push their targets backward without affecting their allies. The fifth bandit focused their energy on "Force Truth And Weaken Legs," aiming to deal heavy damage to their target and weaken their legs if lies were detected. They also anticipated the immobilization that would come with the spell "Lock Legs," visualizing the golem's legs stiffening, but held off until the perfect opportunity to immobilize their target arose.

Together, these bandits formed a formidable force, their spells at the ready, waiting for the right moment to unleash their magical prowess and overcome the mighty golem standing before them.

The golem was careful, dashing away and staying further back. It attacked a tree, turning it into a sapling. It grabbed the sapling and placed it down in front of it.

Looking vulnerable, he was luring the bandits to cast their spells and attack.

The bandits saw through his bluff and kept their distance, healing themselves and exchanged short trades with the 7 kobolds.

The kobolds and the bandits kept their distance mostly, resembling the scene earlier.

After neutralizing two kobolds through spells and debilitating off the rest to flee, a minute later, they headed to the golem.

Two of the bandits eagerly nodded one after another in approval.

After 15 seconds of waiting, they cast their spells, which subsequently became temporarily dormant. The bandits could only use their physical blades to strike the golem down.

The golem got caught, groaning in pain as fast blades, ice gauntlet, a fear-causing spell, among others, struck and stunned it.

The magically fast blades made sharp, precise, diagonal strikes.

The ice gauntlet applied a stabbing pain through its freezing characteristic, typically scaring off those in contact.

Despite the whirlwind of spells against it, the golem easily absorbed the inflicted damage and returned fire, casting a near-range spell that made the bandits severely hungry.

The bandits struggled to attack, their damage output and running speed decreasing for a few seconds.

The five remaining kobolds approached the bandits closely, but they stayed out of reach.

Furthermore, the golem waved the kobolds off with a faint glare.

Ultimately, the kobolds waited for the golem's spell to become available, given that it was in temporary dormancy following its last use.

After 15 seconds, the kobolds attacked the bandits, making them retreat. Their damage was too weak to neutralize them within a reasonable amount of time.

The golem greedily gave a few quick but faint strikes them a few times before it escaped, which allowed one of the bandits to strike him one more time.

Close to death, the golem escaped their reach, but it needed to head home and get healing.

The kobolds turned around to retreat, but the bandits were much faster than them.

The bandits attempted to neutralize a kobold through spells, but the golem cast its spell, inducing jarring hunger on them. The kobolds escaped and accompanied the golem homeward.

The golem's company reacted with shame.

The golem reflected that it could have neutralized the bandits by debilitating them with its spell and then attacking while they were stunned.

In the distance, the bandits destroyed the golem's saplings, as they granted magical vision of the surrounding area.

In the forest, the golem's company and the bandits returned to their respective camps.

Minutes later, they returned to fight again.

In a distant karst landscape, Peter heard the Danderlion giving orders to the humans.

A ringing hit the air. The summer tolled for whom Peter is decided. He imagatively grasped the detached hands of his breathren once removed. His face full of grief, he marked this day.

Living in a fantasy world, he suddenly realized his truth, saying: "I hate dholes. I have goblins. I know a place better than all this. It's Earth where I was safe. It's on Earth where I felt like I had a chance. Why... I hate everything here! I, I don't want to be here! Someone please save me! Please! Please! Please! SOMEONE! I don't want to be here anymore! Please, save me..." 

His expression turned to apathy. 

His voice had only reached himself.

A burst of emotion freed themselves from him.

"I shall allay the hunger of the world. Their weaknesses shall be mine and mine alone. I shall take them, and we shall dance forevermore. Forevermore. We shall become as gods. Let us sing of grace and tender heartfelt desires. Let us reign dominant upon the earthen wares that divide our belongings into groups. We shall sing of light. It is just.

"I am..."

The states of fear, rage, hunger, thirst, or joy in which Peter's behavior indicated awareness to either move toward or move away from objects in order to allay tension, gain satisfaction, or maximize excitement required the development of considerable capacity for perception (recognition) as well as imaging of the environment, also known as extrospection.

Richardess supported Peter.

Thousands more demonstrated on Peter's behalf even when his weapons of mass destruction, his magic, the only purpose of which was to kill and degrade life were obviously being stored for use against other human beings.