Micro, an ordinary boy in strange white robes, wandered along the sidewalk without moving very far from his original position. He wondered why everything seemed so familiar, and why some things filled him with such overwhelming feelings. As he began to wonder what he was feeling, an old lady walked into his shoulder.

  “Ouch, move!” the old lady shouted angrily, though she quickly corrected her posture and adjusted her glasses. “What are you doing, wandering around in a daze like that?!”

  “I feel like… I was going somewhere…” Micro wondered aloud as the lady briskly continued on her way. “I have to carry something—no… keep it safe…?”

  Micro closed his eyes tightly, searching for the image of his goal in his mind, but his efforts only exhausted him. He felt like screaming in frustration as the noisy people and cars pulled his attention away from his mysterious purpose, but a single sound washed away every thought in his mind all at once.

  The awful sound of screeching tires split the air. He looked up to see a small truck on its side, wrapped awkwardly around a telephone pole beside the road. Onlookers gasped at the scene, traffic ground to a halt, while one boy stood motionless in the road, a phone in his hand, staring blankly at the truck.

  Micro pushed the boy aside as he ran straight to the scene of the accident, not knowing why he felt compelled to do so. The sound of the engine dying and oil dripping down the chassis to the road drowned out every sound around him. The smell of hot rubber and metal made him sick. From a single pace away, he heard the fuzzy sound of music cease as the trucks’ lights died.

  Still unable to process his own actions, he pulled the truck off its side, resting it gently on its flattened tires. The glass shattered and steel creaked as the small truck settled. He grasped the handle, but it wouldn’t move. He pushed his hand through the half-shattered window and tore the entire door off, casting it aside as his eyes began to water.

  “Are you—” Micro choked on his words. The old man in the driver’s seat was slumped over the steering wheel, and the blood dripping from his head sent an icy chill through Micro’s chest. “Hey… get up—”

  Micro unbuckled the man’s seat belt and pulled him out. The strength in his legs began to fail, and he fell to his knees, resting the old man’s head on his lap.

  “Ha…” A laboured breath escaped the man’s mouth. Micro felt like his heart could finally beat again at the sound of the man’s voice.

  “Somebody…!” Micro found his voice. “Help! An ambulance! Call a—”

  He didn’t bother wondering why he knew what an ambulance was, but he realized his cries for help would not be heard. Wherever he turned to look, not a single person was visible. The roads were empty of cars. He was alone. Micro desperately searched for somebody, something, anything that could help the old man in front of him, but less of the world remained the longer he looked. Buildings seemed to disappear whenever he blinked, the roads grew darker, the clouds seemed nearer, the horizon felt closer, and the air felt colder. He felt that the world itself was rejecting his cries for help.

  “Help!” Micro feebly called out again, but the cold ground beneath him and the foggy, cold air around him muffled his cries.

  “Leave him,” Micro’s own voice suddenly echoed in the air around him, but it wasn’t Micro who said it.

  “Huh…?” Micro looked around in confusion. “What was that?”

  “Leave,” the voice repeated as a shapeless red light began to glow in the distance to his right. Micro was sure it was the source of the voice, though he could only hear the voice in his mind.

  “Leave…!” the voice in his head said again. Suddenly, a warm, yellow light appeared to the left. The light seemed to be coming from a small doorway.

  “Help me,” Micro quietly pleaded, but only the mysterious voice in his head replied.

  “Leave him,” it stated coldly. The smell of rust then assaulted Micro’s nose. The red light glowed brighter, as if it were steadily approaching Micro.

  Micro waited anxiously to see what was coming, but before he could discern the nature of the approaching force, he felt the skin on his face begin to sting. He wondered if his skin was burning, but he wasn’t hot. He felt the muscles in his hands twitch, and he wished he could shield his own face from the harsh light, but he bent over to protect the old man instead. He didn’t know why the dying man was worth more to him than his own safety, but the only thing Micro knew was that he wouldn’t let any more harm come to the man as long as he was alive.

  “Leave!”

  Micro began to understand that the yellow glow of the distant doorway to his left was the only safe place he could run to as the painful red light continued to glow brighter as it drew nearer.

  “Leave him here!” Micro’s own inner voice demanded as he struggled to his feet, picking the old man up in his arms. “You can not save him!”

  The old man was heavy in his arms.

  “You do not need him!” The voice grew harsh. The old man was so much heavier than he was just moments ago. He was heavier with each passing moment. Micro’s knees ached under the weight of his injured passenger. But he only grew heavier. Micro’s back burned as the rusty mist caught up to him.

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  “No…” Micro grunted, relieved to hear his voice protesting the selfish demands of the voice surrounding him. “No, I won’t—”

  The red mist enveloped him. His lungs ached as the red fog caught his breath. His pace slowed. The old man groaned in pain. Micro tucked the man’s head under his chin, but he was so heavy. Micro could still see the exit, but it was still so far away.

  “You will find another driver,” the voice said with more urgency. Micro’s vision was blurry. The mist burned his eyes. The smell of rust made him sick.“You will outlive him either way!”

  “No…” Micro whispered, despite the burning in his lungs. His shoulders cracked, and his grip weakened. His vision failed him, and his ears were filled only with a loud ringing. He knew he was close to the exit by the number of steps he had taken, but he grew slower with each step.

  “Leave him behind!” the voice became deafeningly loud, but Micro kept walking. He thought of nothing but the direction he needed to travel. He promised himself that nother would cause him to veer from his path. Micro kept walking. “Fool…”

  “Almost…” Micro whispered, his voice now barely a voice. He kept walking. “Almost… there…”

  “You are wasting this life,” the voice echoed endlessly, full of rage, but Micro didn’t hear it anymore “Don’t throw away this chance!”

  “Almost— Micro choked as he walked, his focus still unwavering. He wouldn’t allow himself to take a single wrong step. Everything ached. Everything burned. But he felt the warmth of the passenger in his arms more than the burning of the deathly force surrounding him. He kept walking.

  ~

  “Huh?” Micro opened his eyes with a confused grunt. He looked down at his arms, where the old man should have been. But he held nothing, standing in a dungeon full of gold and treasure.

  “Surreal…” the dungeon’s regal guardian muttered with a frown.

  “That was…” Micro stuttered. “A dream?”

  “Unexpected…” Ka-rim nodded his head slowly for a moment, looking at Micro as if he was trying to find something he had lost.

  “The old man wasn’t really there, right…?” Micro asked Ka-Rim, frowning back at the dragon. “He’s safe?”

  “Hmm…” Ka-Rim stroked his beard and leaned forward in his chair. “You lack understanding.”

  “I agree,” Micro said with a frown. He took a step toward the dragon with a frustrated look. “What just happened?!”

  “Nothing you saw was real,” Ka-Rim began, putting Micro at ease. “I sealed your memories, placed you before that which you treasure, and created the nightmare from which you escaped.”

  “A nightmare?” Micro asked. “I don’t have those anymore, so how—”

  “You deceive yourself,” Ka-Rim replied. “Nightmares live deep within you, whether you choose to face them each night or not. I did not search long before finding a vast sea of unresolved fears.”

  “I see…” Micro mumbled, then looked away, his hand rising to his shoulder unconsciously. “Unresolved, huh…”

  “You may not understand my words entirely, but you have passed the trial,” Ka-Rim continued. “Despite the immaturity of your mind, your will has carried you forward. But I am perplexed…”

  “What’s wrong?” Micro asked. “Did you lose something?”

  “You should not have passed the trial, lost child of fate,” Ka-Rim explained, ignoring Micro’s question. “You are wholly unqualified to walk the traditional path of the dragon. Your greed is far superior, but your desires are hopelessly mundane.”

  “My desires?” Micro spat back with a harsh glare. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business!”

  “The Dragon Art in this dungeon is earned by those who escape the nightmare of loss,” Ka-Rim explained, despite Micro’s worsening mood. “Whatever you treasure most is only a burden to you in that nightmare. The treasures a dragon has yet to attain are what give a dragon’s life meaning. But even with your memories sealed, you believed with all of your being that you would never find a greater treasure. The fear I sensed in you was—”

  “He isn’t a gold coin,” Micro interjected. “He’s my driver.”

  “You describe the fleeting relationship between a mortal and his machine, do you not?” Ka-Rim scoffed. “You walk the path of a cultivator now. You will form countless relationships as you journey through this realm and others. For a single acquaintance to be so firmly ingrained in the essence of your soul…”

  “What’s your point?” Micro asked, growing more and more agitated by Ka-Rim’s words. “Do you have one?”

  “And not only did you cling so desperately to such a small prize…” Ka-Rim’s continued, apparently unaware of Micro’s outbrusts. “You actually succeeded in carrying the mortal to the edge of your nightmare, which itself was absurd. This is uncommon, if not unique…”

  “Small prize…?” Micro repeated, clenching his fists.

  “Despite your pathetic mortal form, you actually carried such a burden?” the dragon asked in disbelief, meeting Micro’s fierce gaze with a look of confusion. “And the scale of that fear…”

  “I’m reliable,” Micro grumbled, his voice trembling. “I don’t need your help finding ways to describe me.”

  “What cultivator would equate a single lost relationship to the end of all things…?” Ka-Rim said with an exasperated tone. “Power, wealth, friends, family… You may add to your treasures indefinitely, as long as you are alive.”

  “I don’t need any treasure…!” Micro’s voice was nearly a growl. “I never needed to be alive to do my job before, and being alive isn’t helping me do it now!”

  “So it seems, and yet you did not die…” Ka-Rim laughed. “The amount of pain you overcame, and the amount of strength you found in your pathetic mortal form…”

  “What about it?” Micro asked, doing his best to wait patiently for the dungeon guardian to finish his assessment.

  “Well, it is certainly worthy of reward,” Ka-Rim answered.

  “I need core cards, not your opinions,” Micro said, his anger slightly relieved by the guardian’s declaration. “Anything that will get me closer to returning to my home, please.”

  “In another realm, no less,” Ka-Rim scoffed. “Then I shall waste no more of your time. In fact, I shall give you all the time you need, though I do not doubt you will only wish for more…”

  “I’d appreciate that,” Micro said. “Wait, what do you mean?”

  “I fear what sort of catastrophe would befall this world which my creator so cherished if you were to find yourself cornered by time,” Ka-Rim explained, then began to laugh, waving his hands to send call forth a torrent of energy that swirled around Micro. “I hope that with patience, you shall never find yourself in too desperate a circumstance.”

  “Okay then…” Micro quickly grabbed the three amber core cards which materialized in front of him, nodded his head in gratitude, and walked to the exit. “Thanks.”

  “May your impossible greed become a strength, and not a weakness, strange child…” Ka-Rim called out as Micro disappeared into the portal without replying. “And we shall meet again…”