I missed music. A lot.

  Waking up in the morning and putting Led Zeppelin on my speakers. Walking to school with my headphones on and dubstep blasting.

  Or just listening to relaxing piano music in the afternoons while I was doing my homework.

  But lucky me, for once, the universe blessed me.

  Music was abundant in the village.

  Every night, the villagers gathered in a central plaza, where they lit a fire, combining their auras, creating a multicolored spectacle and playing strange but interesting instruments.

  One of them was called "Laranbin-tha." It was similar to a guitar, with three strings, but its hollow body also allowed it to be blown through several holes, producing a wide variety of notes.

  And the music the villagers played... soothed the soul. It sounded… medieval?

  I could forget the suffering. The despair. The loneliness.

  I simply closed my eyes and thought of those distant days when I listened to music, locked in my small room.

  Ah, those were the days. You don’t really appreciate the little things until you lose them, do you?

  While I was busy losing myself in the music and my bittersweet spiral of nostalgia, Abrak-Ith tapped me on the shoulder. Not gently. Not politely. No, he tapped me like someone who knew I was about to embarrass myself again.

  "Greet Matriarch you must. She here is," he said, voice firm, as if he already regretted bringing me to the plaza.

  I turned, and there she was. His aunt. The Matriarch.

  She towered over him by at least three heads. Every inch of her looked like she could tear me in half without breaking a sweat. Her entire body was covered in scars, tiny lines, deep cuts, slashes that looked like they could tell stories of their own. Her arms and legs were twice as thick as any other villager’s, pure muscle stacked on muscle.

  And this was the woman who led the rebellion centuries ago. The one who helped overthrow the old patriarch. The one who, according to Abrak-Ith, had lived at least three times longer than him.

  Fantastic.

  No pressure, Keegan. No pressure at all.

  I swallowed, tried to keep my expression from collapsing into full panic, and did my best not to accidentally propose marriage again.

  "Me… Keegan Carter. Greet you, great Matriarch Aza-Orah. To thank you, allowing me village stay here, I do really," I said, every word sounding like I was reading instructions off a broken translation app.

  Contrary to what I expected, the matriarch let out what seemed like a big laugh and looked at me as if I were a puppy learning to bark.

  "Welcome, Keegan Carter," she said. "I hope you enjoy your time here in our village. You have a lot to learn from us, but I’m sure… there’s plenty we can learn from you too, right?"

  I stared at her.

  No.

  No way.

  She had just spoken perfect English.

  And not just perfect English. I swear she had a slight Australian accent.

  What?

  My brain stalled. I think my soul left my body for a second.

  The matriarch must have noticed the pure horror and confusion plastered on my face because she let out a deep, rumbling laugh, clearly enjoying every second of my mental breakdown.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  "The one who helped us progress," she added, smiling, "taught me his language. It was hard… that’s why I’m the only one who can speak it. Oh, so many centuries have passed since then. It’s been… far too long since I last talked like this."

  I swallowed hard, louder than I’d like to admit.

  "The one who… helped you… is it possible—"

  Before I could finish, the Matriarch shook her head slowly.

  "He left this plane long ago," she said, voice almost… soft. "He is now one with nature. But not all is lost. Near here lies the Cave of Destiny, where his remains rest."

  I felt my heart skip a beat. I leaned in, probably a little too eager.

  "Forgive my boldness, Matriarch, but… is it possible for me to go there?" I asked, barely hiding the hope in my voice.

  She smiled again, like she had all the time in the world.

  "Yes. But we must wait for the Moon Festival. Only then will the cave reveal itself."

  Of course. That was it.

  That was what Abrak-Ith had been preparing me for all along.

  "There are still eight long years until the festival, aren’t there?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

  The Matriarch nodded slowly.

  "Until then, you’re welcome to stay here and live among us," she said. "We trust it’s safe for you to do so."

  I cleared my throat, forcing a smile. "Yes, of course, Matriarch. I’ll do my best to behave… and not accidentally propose marriage again."

  She let out another deep, rumbling laugh.

  "Good, good. Enjoy the ritual. Tomorrow, meet me north of the city when the sun rises. If you want to live among us, you’ll have to learn our ways, eh?"

  I nodded a little too fast as I bit into another piece of that weird roasted insect meat.

  "What will we do?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

  The Matriarch smiled.

  Not just any smile... that smile. The kind that sent a shiver down my spine.

  "It’s a surprise," she whispered.

  Oof.

  What was in store for me the next day? My mind quickly reviewed everything that had happened to me so far in the alien wasteland.

  I don't think anything worse could happen... right?

  Anyway, nerves and worries aside, the night ended peacefully, and I headed back home to get some sleep.

  Of course, before throwing myself onto that ridiculously comfortable bed, I stopped in front of the mirror.

  Again.

  I pointed at my reflection.

  "Oh, you bastard… you’re getting prettier every damn day, huh."

  My hair was long. Way too long.

  And the beard? Full, thick, and bordering on wizard levels.

  After all, it had been more than two years since the system kicked me off Earth like unwanted trash. And last I checked, there wasn’t a single barbershop in this entire wasteland. Lucky me, right?

  That’s when it hit me.

  I squinted at my reflection, slowly lifting a finger.

  "You can be even more beautiful," I whispered, like I’d just discovered the secrets of life itself.

  I focused my aura, shaping it into a thin, sharp blade. A glorious, cosmic razor.

  It was time.

  Keegan Carter, survivor of the wasteland, would now become… a stylist.

  I started with my beard, shaving it clean, leaving my skin as soft as a baby’s.

  "Good… good. We’re getting better and better, you devil beauty."

  Next, I trimmed my hair to a perfect middle ground. Not too long, not too short.

  Just right.

  I leaned closer, inspecting the final result.

  "Oh damn… if I was hot before, all messy and wild, now?"

  I flexed for the mirror.

  "Now I’m Mr. Universe. No alien can match my beauty, am I right, Waldo?"

  There was no response. Just cold, stubborn silence.

  "Right, right. You’re still in your silent phase," I muttered. "Sure, go ahead. Stay quiet. Ignore me all you want. I’ve met other people now, Waldo. I’m over you."

  I wasn’t. Not even close.

  If I could wish for anything in the universe, it would be to hear that smug little rock voice in my head again.

  I leaned in, whispering like a conspirator.

  "Now that I think about it… that weird glowing figure in my dream? Yeah. He told me to say hi to you. How come he knows you, huh? Are you some kind of cosmic entity hiding in plain sight?"

  Waldo, of course, said nothing. Classic Waldo.

  I sighed, flopped onto the bed, and pulled the covers up to my head.

  "Okay, keep your secrets to yourself."

  I had no idea what the Matriarch was planning for me tomorrow, so I did the only thing I could: I forced myself to sleep.

  And that’s when it hit me.

  The dream.

  It started… almost peaceful.

  A glowing portal in the middle of a familiar desert.

  And there I was… dancing. Like, full-on, arms-flailing, foot-stomping dancing.

  Waldo stood beside me in a tiny cheerleader outfit, pom-poms and all, chanting nonsense while shaking his rocky hips.

  Meanwhile, Abrak-Ith and the Matriarch were locked in some kind of dramatic aura-fueled deathmatch… over the last cosmic anus insect snack.

  It was ridiculous. Absurd. Perfectly my kind of dream.

  But then… everything snapped.

  Darkness swallowed the scene like a wave.

  Two blurry, humanoid figures stepped out of the portal.

  I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. I could only watch.

  They raised their hands... and from their eyes, they fired blinding beams of energy in every direction, tearing the ground apart.

  And then they turned to me.

  I felt the heat hit my chest, again and again, as their beams pierced straight through me, over and over, until my regeneration… stopped.

  Everything froze.

  I woke up gasping, heart pounding like I’d run a marathon.

  I rubbed my face and groaned into my pillow.

  I wish I could say I had a good night’s sleep. But let’s be honest, I slept like crap.

  I’d have killed for some magnesium gummies.

  Too bad they didn't exist on that cursed wasteland.