Prologue

  Aster walked down Commissioner Street, the midday heat simmering off the pavement, making the air waver like a living thing. The scent of grilled meat and spices curled through the air from a braai stand at the corner, where a man flipped boerewors over hot coals, chatting with customers in a mix of Zulu and English. The rhythm of the city beat beneath his feet—minibus taxis weaving through traffic with impatient hoots, kwaito music thumping from a passing car, the chatter of street vendors calling out their wares.

  Aster walked with his hands in his pockets, his pace steady but unhurried, his gaze drifting over the city around him. The streets pulsed with life, Johannesburg moved the way it always did, fast and unrelenting, a city of endlessly shifting currents.

  And yet, the feeling lingered.

  It wasn’t the crowd. He was used to the press of people, the constant movement. This was something else, a presence just beyond the edge of his awareness, threading through his senses like a half-remembered dream.

  He paused at the curb, casting a glance over his shoulder. The city sprawled behind him, indifferent, everything as it should be. A group of men loitered outside a spaza shop, heatedly debating the latest Kaizer Chiefs match, their hands waving with bottles of Castle Lager. A woman, crate of fruit balanced on her head, moved with practiced ease through the crowd, heading toward the corner to set up her stall. A taxi honked, irritable at the delay.

  Nothing.

  And yet, it never left him, that strange weight on his spine, like someone’s gaze trailing him just out of sight. Aster exhaled and turned forward again, shaking off the unease. Whatever it was, it was just in his head. It had to be.

  Behind him, through the thin veil of reality, the world shifted as another version of Johannesburg slithered and pulsed.

  The city remained, its shapes and outlines familiar, but its foundation deepened, unravelling into something older, something unseen.

  Matter moved through the busy street as he trailed his target, his presence invisible to the Material world, a shadow behind the veil of the world they knew. His footsteps were soft against the cracked pavement, barely audible over the low, rhythmic pulse of the city. He wore a cloak, the fabric dark enough to blend into the shifting hues of the mist that curled around his legs like a living thing. The mist was thick and undulating, alive in its strange, shifting colors—deep purples, blues, oranges, and more than he cared to name glowing faintly in the dim light. It crept low to the ground, pushing up along the edges of buildings, spilling over the sidewalks in thick blankets—a fluid tapestry that pulsed with a life of its own, never settling, always reaching. It pressed at his cloak, testing its edges, but never quite able to touch him.

  Above, the sky churned in an ever-shifting mosaic of unnatural colours. Clouds coiled and unravelled, deep blues bleeding into neon greens and dark purples before collapsing inward, twisting into rusted oranges, vivid pinks, and searing nuclear yellows. Streaks of lightning cracked in colours that had no place in the natural world, illuminating winged shapes that drifted through the storm. Their forms wavered, indistinct, shifting like shadows refusing to be pinned down, impossibly large from so far away.

  Strange, bioluminescent flora coiled around buildings, their curling leaves glowing faintly in the mist, tendrils slinking along walls like searching fingers. Their roots clawed at the concrete, creeping along the streets, drawn to the mist, feeding off the strange energy it was made from.

  Matter could almost taste the air, thick and heavy with the scent of damp earth and something else—something metallic, a charge in the atmosphere that hummed with energy. The city buzzed, alive with a pulse that thrummed beneath every movement

  Insects like, metallic specters darted between the strange flora, feeding on the strange plant matter, while other creatures moved between the branches, unseen behind the thick foliage, their presence barely perceptible but undeniably there as every now and then an insect will venture to close, only to be grabbed in a flash, their insistent buzzing cut off by a large crunch and the sound of feeding. The air was thick with the hum of creatures, their shapes flickering in and out of perception, merging with the swamp's restless energy.

  Moving through all this as if it didn’t exist, the people didn’t notice. They shuffled along, focused on their routines, minds locked into their little worlds. Coffee cups in hand, eyes glued to screens, faces blank with the monotony of life. They moved through it all without noticing the strange world around. Each person was enclosed by a faint, golden orb—their bio-fields—pulsing gently, a barrier that separated them from the alien reality overlaying their own. The shielded barrier kept the two worlds apart, an invisible wall that protected them from the mist curling at their feet, the unnatural growth creeping around buildings, and the creatures lurking just out of sight.

  Only a few creatures had the ability to breach this barrier and influence those hidden within. Matter observed one of the most common of these—the Adgnats— carrying out its programmed nature. It hovered in and out of the crowd like a little firefly, its metallic wings flashing with corporate logos—Samsung, Apple, Burger King—like some twisted advertisement come to life. It didn’t fear the bio-fields like the others. No, it was drawn to them. Matter watched it land on a golden shield, its tiny stinger piercing the surface. For a brief moment, the logos flashed across the bio-field, flickering like an old TV screen. It fed, injected its maker’s will, and then flies off again, leaving nothing but a lingering whisper.

  Ahead, Matter’s target wove further into the shifting crowd, but his presence was impossible to lose. Where others moved encased in steady, golden light, his target’s shield wavered—flickering at the edges like a failing bulb. The stable fields around him cast a quiet, even glow, but his pulsed erratically, a beacon of instability against the surrounding calm.

  Matter’s cyan eyes remained locked onto the failing shield.

  ‘It’s weakening again.’ He thought. Each flicker, each dimming pulse, marked him. ‘The mist would notice soon. It always did’, as the golden glow kept dimming until it could barely hold out against the pressure of the mist.

  Matter muttered an incantation under his breath, as a glow of light starts building up brighter and brighter in his hand, he curls his finger as he finishes, causing a stream of the golden energy to flow from his hand, attaching itself to the man’s flickering bio-field. The field flares brighter and brighter as he transfers the need Karma, pushing back the encroaching mist. “That should hold for a while” Matter hopes, but he could already see the draining of energy continue. A faint trickle—almost imperceptible—kept pouring from the Field into the chest of the man being shielded.

  A guttural growl rumbled from within the mist. A shadow coiled, shifted, and then lunged. A blur of darkness surged toward his target, sensing the previous vulnerability in his weakening shield.

  ‘Too late.’ Matter smirks.

  The golden barrier flared in defence, releasing a sharp crackle of energy. The creature yelped, thrown back into the mist, where it slithered away with a low, frustrated hiss. Hungry. Hunting. Deciding to rather search for something weaker.

  Matter barely spared it a further glance. His focus again locked on his target, who hadn’t noticed anything wrong and was still making his way blindly through the press of bodies. The crowd was starting to increase, glowing orbs bobbing around him in the mist like lanterns in the deep. More people. More fields. More distractions.

  Above, the Aether was growing heavier, the pulse of the sky becoming more erratic.

  The air shivered with static, pressing down on the city. The clouds twisted and churned into even more unnatural hues—shades of purple browns, neon greens, and puss yellows—each layer of cloud pressing closer and closer together. It was as if the sky was too full, pressed too tightly together, ready to burst. The air shivers with static, as though everything in the city was holding its breath.

  And then, as if on cue, the rain begins. It’s not a gentle shower, but a torrential downpour, each drop a tiny spark of electricity, sharp and biting as it strikes the pavement. Matter barely notices storm, his cloak heavy with the weight of the rain as the energy arcs off of his body, his eyes still fixed on the man in front of him.

  ‘Twenty-one years.’

  Matter’s footsteps were soundless against the cracked pavement as he continued to trail the man ahead, his gaze unwavering from the flickering golden field. The intervals between top-ups were shrinking. Each time, the shield failed faster. Each time, Aster needed more.

  ‘It won’t be long now.’

  For two decades, Matter had followed him, waiting, watching, feeding just enough Karma into the Bio-Field to keep it intact—but never enough to stop its inevitable decline. It was a slow unravelling, a measured collapse. And soon, after all these years, the journey would reach its end.

  He exhaled, steadying his thoughts. The weight of time pressed against him, but he remained patient. He always had been.

  ‘One last stretch.’

  Aster turns another corner as he moved out of the bustling area into a dingier one with rubbish littering the sidewalks and abandoned buildings dotting the streets like missing teeth, any open space that could shelter someone from the elements were crowded by those less fortunate.

  Seeming to have spotted his destination, Aster crosses the street, quickening his pace as he heads towards a nondescript storefront tucked between two other buildings. From a distance, the store doesn’t stand out, its faded sign barely legible under the grime of the streets. But Matter notices something—the faint, sickly pink glow hovering just above the entrance. It flickers, almost like an optical illusion, drawing the eyes.

  The lure. He knows it instantly.

  ‘A Scam Angler.’

  Aster strides unaware of the creature, past its lure and into the store, the soft clink of the door’s bell echoing in the empty space. Matter follows, his senses heightened, every instinct alert. The shop is nondescript—an old corner store with cluttered shelves, dim lighting, and the faint, musty smell of dust. However, the robed man’s senses immediately sharpen. His eyes flick over every corner, the air thick with the subtle hum of strange energy that most would ignore.

  Seeing another feint glow in the corner, the man shifts his gaze to the lure source as he sees the creature—its body large and grotesque, its scales shimmering faintly beneath a translucent, slimy skin. Its huge, bulbous eyes stared unblinking, the kind of eyes that seem to see everything and nothing at once. The lure, that sickly pink light, danced hypnotically above its head, drawing anyone nearby closer.

  Matter’s mind sharpens. Four of them. The presence of one Scam Angler outside the store was one thing, but four in this space? This wasn’t a casual encounter. He could feel the weight of the deception throughout the building’s atmosphere, a hum of energy feeding the creatures’ insidious power. Their very existence thrived off the lies and anger generated by the actions of those who used scams and cons to make a living, helping to draw in unexpected victims — the emotions that would inevitably spiral in a place like this would feed them and help them grow.

  He narrows his eyes. Four of them in here. It’s rare for the creatures to group like this. There’s potent energy being fed off from somewhere in this room, something nefarious enough to attract them all. But the people milling about, each encased in their glowing shields, were blissfully unaware of the creatures’ presence.

  Aster, still oblivious to the astral dangers, steps deeper into the store, brushing past a shelf of dusty trinkets, making his way to the fridges in the back. His field hums quietly around him, a golden cocoon shielding him from the unseen dangers of this world.

  The cloaked figure watches Aster closely, his senses heightened. The glow of his field was already much less brighter than it had been when they walked in. He feels his chest tighten and he fears the worst as he sees Aster’s shield start to flicker.

  No, no, not now...

  Aster’s shield, dims even further, as the man steps closer, already starting the incantation, his hand outstretched, ready to recharge the failing orb before it collapses completely. But at that moment Aster brushes against one of the lures of the scam anglers, causing a spark before the glowing field suddenly shatters completely. Instantly the shield that had kept Aster unaware of the Astral Plane evaporates, suddenly plunging Aster into a world of chaos.

  The mist, held back by the orb till this point, suddenly rushes into the empty space, the faint haze that had been surrounding him, that he’d never noticed until this point, suddenly floods in. It swirls around him in thick, undulating tendrils, coiling around his legs, crawling around his body like an electric cloying tide. Aster staggers back, his breath catching in his throat as he stumbles and falls into the thick carpet of mist surrounding him.

  Gasping, his hand flyout in front of him as though wanting to push the fog away, but it slips through his fingers like smoke, twisting and moving as though it had a mind of its own. Finally getting back to his feet he gasps for air as he emerges from the cloud only to find himself in a twisted version of the convenient store he had entered.

  Prologue

  Aster walks down Commissioner Street, the midday heat simmering off the pavement, making the air waver like a living thing. The scent of grilled meat and spices curls through the air from a braai stand at the corner, where a man flips boerewors over hot coals, chatting with customers in a mix of Zulu and English. The rhythm of the city beats beneath his feet—minibus taxis weave through traffic with impatient hoots, kwaito music thumps from a passing car, the chatter of street vendors calling out their wares.

  Aster walks with his hands in his pockets, his pace steady but unhurried, his gaze drifting over the city around him. The streets pulse with life—vendors calling out prices for fresh fruit, the distant rhythm of a street performer’s drum, the scent of charred meat wafting from a roadside braai stand. Johannesburg moves the way it always does, fast and unrelenting, a city of endlessly shifting currents.

  And yet, the feeling lingers.

  It isn’t the crowd. He is used to the press of people, the constant movement. This is something else, a presence just beyond the edge of his awareness, threading through his senses like a half-remembered dream.

  He pauses at the curb, casting a glance over his shoulder. The city sprawls behind him, indifferent, everything as it should be. A group of men loiters outside a spaza shop, heatedly debating the latest Kaizer Chiefs match, their hands waving with bottles of Castle Lager. A woman, crate of fruit balanced on her head, moves with practiced ease through the crowd, heading toward the corner to set up her stall. A taxi honks, irritable at the delay.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Nothing.

  And yet, it never leaves him, that strange weight on his spine, like someone’s gaze trailing him just out of sight. Aster exhales and turns forward again, shaking off the unease. Whatever it is, it is just in his head. It has to be.

  Behind him, through the thin veil of reality, the world shifts as another version of Johannesburg slithers and pulses.

  The city remains, its shapes and outlines familiar, but its foundation deepens, unravelling into something older, something unseen.

  Matter moves through the busy street as he trails his target, his presence invisible to the Material world, a shadow behind the veil of the world they know. His footsteps are soft against the cracked pavement, barely audible over the low, rhythmic pulse of the city. He wears a cloak, the fabric dark enough to blend into the shifting hues of the mist that curls around his legs like a living thing. The mist is thick and undulating, alive in its strange, shifting colors—deep purples, blues, oranges, and more than he cares to name glowing faintly in the dim light. It creeps low to the ground, pushing up along the edges of buildings, spilling over the sidewalks in thick blankets—a fluid tapestry that pulses with a life of its own, never settling, always reaching. It presses at his cloak, testing its edges, but never quite able to touch him.

  Above, the sky churns in an ever-shifting mosaic of unnatural colours. Clouds coil and unravel, deep blues bleeding into neon greens and dark purples before collapsing inward, twisting into rusted oranges, vivid pinks, and searing nuclear yellows. Streaks of lightning crack in colours that have no place in the natural world, illuminating winged shapes that drift through the storm. Their forms waver, indistinct, shifting like shadows refusing to be pinned down, impossibly large from so far away.

  Strange, bioluminescent flora coil around buildings, their curling leaves glowing faintly in the mist, tendrils slinking along walls like searching fingers. Their roots claw at the concrete, creeping along the streets, drawn to the mist, feeding off the strange energy it is made from.

  Matter can almost taste the air, thick and heavy with the scent of damp earth and something else—something metallic, a charge in the atmosphere that hums with energy. The city buzzes, alive with a pulse that thrums beneath every movement.

  Insects, metallic specters, dart between the strange flora, feeding on the strange plant matter, while other creatures move between the branches, unseen behind the thick foliage, their presence barely perceptible but undeniably there as every now and then an insect ventures too close, only to be grabbed in a flash, its insistent buzzing cut off by a large crunch and the sound of feeding. The air is thick with the hum of creatures, their shapes flickering in and out of perception, merging with the swamp's restless energy.

  Moving through all this as if it doesn’t exist, the people don’t notice. They shuffle along, focused on their routines, minds locked into their little worlds. Coffee cups in hand, eyes glued to screens, faces blank with the monotony of life. They move through it all without noticing the strange world around. Each person is enclosed by a faint, golden orb—their bio-fields—pulsing gently, a barrier that separates them from the alien reality overlaying their own. The shielded barrier keeps the two worlds apart, an invisible wall that protects them from the mist curling at their feet, the unnatural growth creeping around buildings, and the creatures lurking just out of sight.

  Only a few creatures have the ability to breach this barrier and influence those hidden within. Matter observes one of the most common of these—the Adgnats—carrying out its programmed nature. It hovers in and out of the crowd like a little firefly, its metallic wings flashing with corporate logos—Samsung, Apple, Burger King—like some twisted advertisement come to life. It doesn’t fear the bio-fields like the others. No, it is drawn to them. Matter watches it land on a golden shield, its tiny stinger piercing the surface. For a brief moment, the logos flash across the bio-field, flickering like an old TV screen. It feeds, injects its maker’s will, and then flies off again, leaving nothing but a

  Ahead, Matter’s target weaves further into the shifting crowd, but his presence is impossible to lose. Where others move encased in steady, golden light, his target’s shield wavers—flickering at the edges like a failing bulb. The stable fields around him cast a quiet, even glow, but his pulses erratically, a beacon of instability against the surrounding calm.

  Matter’s cyan eyes remain locked onto the failing shield.

  ‘It’s weakening again,’ he thinks. Each flicker, each dimming pulse, marks him. ‘The mist will notice soon. It always does,’ as the golden glow keeps dimming until it can barely hold out against the pressure of the mist.

  Matter mutters an incantation under his breath, as a glow of light starts building up brighter and brighter in his hand. He curls his finger as he finishes, causing a stream of the golden energy to flow from his hand, attaching itself to the man’s flickering bio-field. The field flares brighter and brighter as he transfers the needed Karma, pushing back the encroaching mist. “That should hold for a while,” Matter hopes, but he can already see the draining of energy continue. A faint trickle—almost imperceptible—keeps pouring from the Field into the chest of the man being shielded.

  A guttural growl rumbles from within the mist. A shadow coils, shifts, and then lunges. A blur of darkness surges toward his target, sensing the previous vulnerability in his weakening shield.

  ‘Too late,’ Matter smirks.

  The golden barrier flares in defense, releasing a sharp crackle of energy. The creature yelps, thrown back into the mist, where it slithers away with a low, frustrated hiss. Hungry. Hunting. Deciding to search for something weaker instead.

  Matter barely spares it a further glance. His focus locks again on his target, who hasn’t noticed anything wrong and is still making his way blindly through the press of bodies. The crowd starts to increase, glowing orbs bobbing around him in the mist like lanterns in the deep. More people. More fields. More distractions.

  Above, the Aether grows heavier, the pulse of the sky becoming more erratic.

  The air shivers with static, pressing down on the city. The clouds twist and churn into even more unnatural hues—shades of purple browns, neon greens, and pus yellows—each layer of cloud pressing closer and closer together. It’s as if the sky is too full, pressed too tightly together, ready to burst. The air shivers with static, as though everything in the city is holding its breath.

  And then, as if on cue, the rain begins. It’s not a gentle shower, but a torrential downpour, each drop a tiny spark of electricity, sharp and biting as it strikes the pavement. Matter barely notices the storm, his cloak heavy with the weight of the rain as the energy arcs off of his body, his eyes still fixed on the man in front of him.

  ‘Twenty-one years.’

  Matter’s footsteps are soundless against the cracked pavement as he continues to trail the man ahead, his gaze unwavering from the flickering golden field. The intervals between top-ups shrink. Each time, the shield fails faster. Each time, Aster needs more.

  ‘It won’t be long now.’

  For two decades, Matter has followed him, waiting, watching, feeding just enough Karma into the Bio-Field to keep it intact—but never enough to stop its inevitable decline. It’s a slow unravelling, a measured collapse. And soon, after all these years, the journey will reach its end.

  He exhales, steadying his thoughts. The weight of time presses against him, but he remains patient. He always has been.

  ‘One last stretch.’

  Aster turns another corner as he moves out of the bustling area into a dingier one with rubbish littering the sidewalks and abandoned buildings dotting the streets like missing teeth. Any open space that could shelter someone from the elements is crowded by those less fortunate.

  Seeming to have spotted his destination, Aster crosses the street, quickening his pace as he heads toward a nondescript storefront tucked between two other buildings. From a distance, the store doesn’t stand out, its faded sign barely legible under the grime of the streets. But Matter notices something—the faint, sickly pink glow hovering just above the entrance. It flickers, almost like an optical illusion, drawing the eyes.

  The lure. He knows it instantly.

  ‘A Scam Angler.’

  Aster strides unaware of the creature, past its lure and into the store, the soft clink of the door’s bell echoing in the empty space. Matter follows, his senses heightened, every instinct alert. The shop is nondescript—an old corner store with cluttered shelves, dim lighting, and the faint, musty smell of dust. However, the robed man’s senses immediately sharpen. His eyes flick over every corner, the air thick with the subtle hum of strange energy that most would ignore.

  Seeing another faint glow in the corner, the man shifts his gaze to the source of the lure as he sees the creature—its body large and grotesque, its scales shimmering faintly beneath a translucent, slimy skin. Its huge, bulbous eyes stare unblinking, the kind of eyes that seem to see everything and nothing at once. The lure, that sickly pink light, dances hypnotically above its head, drawing anyone nearby closer.

  Matter’s mind sharpens. Four of them. The presence of one Scam Angler outside the store is one thing, but four in this space? This isn’t a casual encounter. He can feel the weight of the deception throughout the building’s atmosphere, a hum of energy feeding the creatures’ insidious power. Their very existence thrives off the lies and anger generated by the actions of those who use scams and cons to make a living, helping to draw in unexpected victims—the emotions that inevitably spiral in a place like this will feed them and help them grow.

  He narrows his eyes. Four of them in here. It’s rare for the creatures to group like this. There’s potent energy being fed off from somewhere in this room, something nefarious enough to attract them all. But the people milling about, each encased in their glowing shields, are blissfully unaware of the creatures’ presence.

  Aster, still oblivious to the astral dangers, steps deeper into the store, brushing past a shelf of dusty trinkets, making his way to the fridges in the back. His field hums quietly around him, a golden cocoon shielding him from the unseen dangers of this world.

  The cloaked figure watches Aster closely, his senses heightened. The glow of his field is already much less bright than it was when they walked in. He feels his chest tighten, and he fears the worst as he sees Aster’s shield start to flicker.

  ‘No, no, not now...’

  Aster’s shield dims even further, and the man steps closer, already starting the incantation, his hand outstretched, ready to recharge the failing orb before it collapses completely. But at that moment, Aster brushes against one of the lures of the Scam Anglers, causing a spark before the glowing field suddenly shatters completely.

  _________________________________________________________________________________

  Aster scans the shelves, eyes flicking over rows of instant noodles, searching for the special he’s come all this way for. The store is quiet, save for the faint hum of refrigerators and the occasional crinkle of plastic as another customer browses nearby. The fluorescent lights buzz faintly overhead, casting their pale glow over the polished tile floor.

  Come on, come on... His fingers trail over the brightly colored packaging, frustration creeping in. Had they already sold out? He crouches slightly, checking the lower shelves, when something in the corner of his vision shimmers.

  Aster blinks.

  For a split second, the world around him seems to ripple—like the surface of a pond disturbed by an unseen hand. The shelves warp, bending at impossible angles, their edges distorting as if they’re being stretched through some unseen force. The hum of the store's lights twists into something unnatural, a low, warbling drone that presses against his eardrums.

  Then, before he can react, his reality shatters.

  The store around him fractures like breaking glass, shards of normalcy falling away to reveal something twisted beneath. His stomach lurches as the ground tilts beneath him, the fluorescent lights above stretching into elongated, flickering strands before they melt into the shifting space around him. The shelves jerk, distorting into grotesque angles, their contents warping into unrecognizable shapes. The air itself seems to tremble.

  And then…

  It slams into him like a living tide.

  Multicolored mist surges forward, flooding the space he occupies, flooding him. The faint haze that had lingered at the edges of his awareness, something he’d never even noticed before, rushes in like a storm breaking free from its cage. It coils around his legs, wrapping tight, slithering up his body, clinging to his skin like a second layer.

  Aster gasps, stumbling backward, his breath catching in his throat. ‘What—?’ His heel catches on something unseen, and before he can steady himself, he falls. The mist swallows him whole.

  He hits the ground hard, the impact knocking the air from his lungs, inhaling as the mist crawls into his lungs, electric and cloying, feelings of rage, frustration, and anguish rushing into him. Hands shoot out as if to shove the fog away, struggling as panic sets in, but the mist twists through his fingers, writhing as if it’s alive. His breath comes in ragged gulps as he scrambles upright, desperate to break free.

  The mist thins as he meets a twisted mockery of the store he was just in.

  Fluorescent lights flicker above him, casting sickly halos over aisles that don’t look right. Shelves lean at warped angles, overgrown with thick vines that twist and pulse as if alive. Their roots dig into the metal, splitting it apart, while broad leaves unfurl to cradle the products like precious fruit. Their packaging glows hypnotically, subtly shifting—logos warping, colors pulsing in mesmerizing rhythms as if calling to him. Aster’s stomach twists. His pulse hammers in his skull.

  ‘This isn’t the store I walked into?!’

  A pulse of pink light catches his eye as it suddenly flares through the mist. Then another. And another. Aster turns toward the movement, and his stomach clenches. A pink light is close enough to start making out the creature it’s attached to as a monstrous creature, looking like an Angler fish, suddenly comes into view, its pink lure glowing like predatory stars in the gloom. Wide, unblinking eyes lock on to him like a predator to prey, as its grotesque, slimy body shakes in anticipation.

  Aster’s chest tightens. His breath shudders. ‘What the fuck is that?!’

  Then the creatures move.

  They’re fast, too fast. The first lunges, its lure swinging wildly, mouth yawning open to reveal rows of jagged, gleaming teeth. Aster freezes. His brain refuses to make sense of what he’s seeing. This isn’t real. It can’t be real. His breath quickens, his feet shuffling back, but his limbs feel sluggish, as if the mist itself is dragging him down. ‘Where the hell am I?!’

  Something moves on his periphery. He turns too late. The second creature is already lunging. Aster barely manages to throw himself backward, hitting the ground hard as the thing’s teeth snap inches from his face.

  A robed figure suddenly appears between him and the creatures.

  A sharp crack rings through the air as a shimmering barrier slams into place, absorbing the creature’s strike. The force sends a ripple through the mist. The creature screeches, its slimy body writhing in frustration as it hurls itself against the invisible wall.

  The robed man doesn’t flinch. With a flick of his wrist, the barrier collapses inward, trapping the creature in its grip before crushing it with a sickening crunch. The creature’s shriek is cut short, its remains raining down in a wet splatter.

  "Move!" the man barks, stepping forward, one hand forming another barrier around Aster while the other fends off the remaining grotesque Angler fish.

  Aster doesn’t move. He can’t. His mind spins, caught between the flickering images of the convenience store and this warped nightmare version of it. His limbs won’t cooperate, his thoughts a tangled mess of panic and disbelief.

  The second Angler lunges again, but the robed man is faster. A platform of energy forms beneath his feet, launching him upward as he drives his palm into the creature’s chest. The impact sends it hurtling backward, slamming into the wall with a wet splut before crumpling to the floor.

  The fight isn’t over. More pulses of pink light flicker in the mist. Another Angler slithers through the fog, this one bigger, its lure an elongated, flickering beacon, rushing straight at Aster again.

  But the robed man doesn’t hesitate. His free hand arcs through the air, and a blade of golden energy slices clean through the creature. It collapses, its body sliding apart, spilling gore across the floor.

  No time to breathe. No time to think.

  Two more Anglers streak toward Aster. He stumbles back, but they’re closing in. Their lures swirl hypnotically, jaws snapping—

  The robed man moves like a storm.

  He steps through the air as if walking on solid ground, his strikes precise, fluid. A platform of force slams into one of the creatures mid-lunge, sending it crashing into the ground. Before it can recover, he drives another burst of energy into its body, hurling it across the room.

  The fourth creature takes advantage of the opening, swinging its hook-like lure toward Aster’s exposed back. He doesn’t see it. Doesn’t react.

  The robed man does.

  A shield snaps into existence, deflecting the strike with an explosive crack. Before the creature can recoil, the man closes the distance in a single step, his foot planting firmly on its head. There’s a sharp, wet crunch. The Scam Angler twitches once, then goes still.

  Aster watches, wide-eyed, trembling. His breath comes in shallow gasps, his body refusing to move. The world around him flickers, between the twisted nightmare and the normal convenience store, between monsters and reality.

  A final screech cuts through the air. One of the creatures is still moving. The robed man doesn’t give it the chance. He raises a hand, summoning a towering platform of force above them. The air crackles. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he brings it down.

  The impact is deafening. The creature is obliterated.

  Silence.

  For a breath, there is only the hum of energy, the robed man standing amidst the carnage, his gaze locked on the swirling mist beyond. More creatures are coming. Their roars echo in the distance.

  The spell completes.

  Aster’s bio-field flickers back into place, its protective glow snapping into existence just in time to sever his connection to this twisted realm. The mist retreats. The warped convenience store wavers—

  And then, he’s back.

  The shelves are neat. The lights steady. The low hum of the refrigerators fills the air, uninterrupted. The customers move past him, unconcerned, their lives undisturbed.

  But Aster stands there, frozen, his breath ragged, his hands trembling.

  To the people in the store, he looks like a madman. A frantic figure, staggering back, arms flinching as if warding off something unseen. His eyes dart wildly, body coiled tight, reacting to threats that aren’t there.

  They step away from him. Some give him a wide berth; others exchange uneasy glances. A whisper ripples through the aisles, low murmurs of concern, of suspicion. Someone shifts toward their phone, fingers hovering over the screen, debating whether to call for help.

  Aster doesn’t notice.

  His heart is still pounding in his ears. His mind still reeling from what he’s just witnessed.