“That damn gnome,” I grumbled. “He went full Houdini on me.”

  I mean, seriously, picture this: bumping into another Earthling—whose soul got yanked right outta Earth—a seismic holy shit moment in this magical dumpster fire of a dimension. And then... poof! The dude vanishes like a fart in the wind. Seriously, what the actual fuck?!

  I bet he was only here dreaming.

  Nah, he’s totally a haunting spirit. Wooooooo and all.

  Maybe I should find him and dissect him. For food—I mean, science.

  Yeah, for science!

  “Shut. Up! I’m not dissecting anyone... yet.”

  The nightlife began to exhale its final breaths as the midnight veil thickened. Staggering figures, too broke to linger in the warmth of brothels and inns, spilled onto the streets. They swayed, their inebriated bodies navigating familiar paths—perhaps toward waiting spouses, or perhaps toward a nice, dark alley where I could have a little... snack.

  I leaned against a nearby wall, the rough surface pressing into my back as I chewed over my options.

  Two main thoughts swirled in my head: the gnome was gone—for now—and I was hungry. Oh! And I needed a pn... My end goal? A ticket back to Aislinn. But first, priorities: food!

  That’s way more than two thoughts.

  I rolled my eyes at my own voices. Honestly, I can be such a smartass with myself at times.

  If this is truly the dream realm, I doubt eating someone will actually satisfy me... but only one way to find out!

  “Yep! Only one way to find out,” I sang, peeling myself off the wall. “Time for a little midnight stroll.”

  Heck, maybe some poor sucker would try to mug me. Wouldn’t that be delightful? A guilt-free pass to Sughterville. A low chuckle bubbled up from me, savoring the delicious thought.

  Like we ever feel guilt.

  It’s just ‘I,’ how many times do we have to say it?

  …

  “Am I psychotic?” I mused aloud to the cool night breeze, a sly grin spreading across my face.

  Yes!

  Yep!

  Absolutely!

  Duh.

  I rolled my eyes at the chorus of voices in my head. Well, I tried to ignore them, but they’re persistent little bastards.

  “What happened to sticking to two factions?” I huffed. “Having one’s mind and soul shattered and then glued back together really isn’t good for one’s sanity,” I muttered with a shake—or perhaps a twitch—of my head. But there was no real annoyance or anger in my words.

  Nope, I was too hungry and too insane to care about the small details.

  A theatrical slump of my shoulders, and off I went—a nocturnal wanderer through the dim-lit city, serving a convincing portrayal of a damsel not exactly in distress. Honestly, I wasn’t. But hey, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do to get jumped, am I right?

  Strolling with ostentatiously feeble steps, I cast sidelong gnces at the sparse passersby, inviting camity with eyes wide and deliberately vulnerable. And nothing. Not even a half-hearted side-eye in return. Apparently, my bait was as tempting as leftover macaroni sad at a barbecue.

  Sigh.

  It’s tough being ignored when you’re practically begging to be a victim.

  “Ugh, I ain’t ugly, am I?”

  Hell no!

  I’d totally sit on my own face if I could.

  “Hmm, as a Bck Pudding... that might actually be doable,” I mused, letting those slightly raunchy thoughts simmer a moment longer before shooing them away with a smirk and another sigh.

  Must’ve been close to three in the morning—assuming mornings here even work the way I remember—as I meandered, slightly aimless, through the shadowy city streets. Honestly, I was pretty clueless about how many hours made up a day in this bizarre pce. My steps kept a solitary beat against the cobblestone, each tap a soft, sardonic reminder of a pn going sideways. Not a single thief or even a lecherous gaze had crossed my path.

  I mean, seriously, what’s a girl gotta do to get some unwanted attention in this town? There has to be at least one pervy predator lurking around here.

  “Come on, universe, throw me a frickin’ bone!”

  He-he. Hehe! We said ‘bone.’

  A distant cmor of ughter and the buzzing of vibrant chatter teased my ears, pulling me from my self-pitying haze. It emanated from an imposing yet peculiarly out-of-pce building nestled among its modest neighbors. It loomed—a curious blend of a capitol building and something straight out of mythical Greece.

  What’s up with the architecture?

  Yeah! It’s like, pick a design. Are they going with medieval, Greek, or Persian?

  Is that a pagoda over there? It sort of looks like a pagoda.

  “That’s not a pagoda,” I rolled my eyes.

  My wandering thoughts weren’t wrong. This entire kingdom was a mixture of all kinds of structures—a melting pot of culture and design. And yet, the only species I could spot were elves, humans—sorry, humyns—dwarves, and gnomes...

  Um... I suppose that just answered my own question.

  Curiosity pulled me up the stately steps and through the expectant, yawning doors. Inside, a hive of mirth and sloshed camaraderie greeted me, the air rich with the hearty, familiar scent of ale. Folks lounged at scattered tables, their ughter and banter stitching a vibrant tapestry of revelry across the space. Others huddled, their eyes dancing excitedly over a rge board. Yet amidst the sea of jubint chaos, a lone humyn male leaned nonchantly against a counter, his eyes narrating a silent, vivid tale of profound and all-encompassing boredom—an isoted isnd in an ocean of cheerful uproar.

  A surprising bustle of people, considering the supposed wee hours, surrounded me—all immersed in their ughter and sips. Yet, strangely, not a single person—dwarves included—appeared overly sloshed. My brows furrowed in mild confusion, and involuntarily, my head twitched as I pivoted around the room, trying to digest the peculiar atmosphere, until a shock of sunlight from the doorway behind me struck me rigid.

  Sunlight? But wasn’t it just the dead of night?

  My broken mind churned, grappling between the logical and the ludicrous. Was I freezing in thought longer than I realized, or am I suffering from a brain tumor? Giving my head a gentle shake—or was that another twitch?—I decided to shelve those bizarre thoughts for ter and sidled deeper into the lively building.

  But who am I kidding? I already knew what was going on. Heck, I’ve been saying it the entire time. Perhaps a part of me was in denial—doubtful—but I was finally ready to officially decre it.

  I muttered under my breath, “Fucking dream realm.”

  It’s the Realm of Dreams!

  Tomato, tomahto.

  My gaze drifted toward the board—a canvas spttered with slips of paper—no, wait, parchment?—each pinned neatly with what looked like undecipherable, squiggly script. I blinked, and fragments of meaning began to click into pce. Weird. Another blink, and crity wove itself into the foreign letters.

  Before my mind could spiral down the rabbit hole of confusion, Polyglot kicked in, revealing the contents of the board: Bounties!

  Each bounty varied—from monsters to individuals, and even for gathering various flora and materials. Typical fantasy world adventurer shit.

  A mischievous grin spread across my face. A lightbulb flickered in my brain.

  “Wait a sec... Could I be... an adventurer?” I whispered, disbelief and excitement mingling in my voice.

  Yeah, in your dreams!

  A round of mocking ughter echoed in my head, causing me to frown.

  I’ve watched enough anime to know how these fantasy worlds operate—or at least pretend I do. Navigating a magical realm likely boils down to two main clichés: first, enroll in a magical academy.

  Because sitting through lectures on wand-waving and potion brewing sounds like a bst.

  How many of our thoughts are sarcastic? Because that was totally sarcastic.

  Cue the eye roll!

  Ignoring the voices in my head, I went back to contempting the idea of a magical academy. The thought of going back to school made me shiver. Been there, flunked that back on Earth. So that’s a solid “hell no!”

  Second, join an adventurer’s guild. Now that option at least sounds like a lot of fun. Of course, I know none of this is real—it’s all just a twisted figment of my overactive imagination—but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to have a bit of fun before finding my way back to the waking world and, more importantly, back to my sexy vampire.

  Um... I don’t think the Realm of Dreams works off our overactive imagination.

  How would you know?

  That’s my point! ‘I’ don’t.

  While marooned in this realm, a plethora of mischievous thoughts pranced through my scrambled brain—why not commandeer an airship or kidnap a princess? After all, embracing the role of a pirate queen or a notorious vilin could add a thrilling twist to my adventure.

  But I tossed those ideas into the ‘maybe another day’ file. For now, tackling one or two adventuring quests wouldn’t hurt. After all, when life—or a twisted dream—hands you a fantasy world, why not py along? Besides, I needed some sort of escape after being stuck in a dungeon after being isekai’d. Just think of this as my much-deserved vacation arc!

  Oh! Oh! Like how every isekai anime gets a bikini episode!

  Wait, is this our bikini episode?

  “I really hate myself sometimes,” I groaned, rolling my eyes at my own scatterbrained thoughts.

  Thus, my adventuring arc began... albeit, all within a dream.

  “Fuck!” I excimed, a sly grin creeping onto my face. “This only reinforces the idea that I’m totally batshit insane, doesn’t it?”

  Yes!

  Yep!

  Absolutely!

  Duh.

  The chorus of voices in my head didn’t miss a beat, each more enthusiastic than the st.

  Shaking my head at... well, myself, I sighed, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “I miss Aislinn.”

  A bck, oozing tear slid down my cheek. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I muttered, wiping it away with a swift swipe. No time for this emo crap. I shrugged it off, straightening up as I directed my steps toward the counter and the gringly disinterested humyn man behind it.

  But, as luck—or my recent ck thereof—would have it, my arrival at the counter failed to register on his radar. Not even an insincere, half-hearted “How may I help you?” Nothing. Nada.

  “Hey!” I coughed pointedly. “Any chance I could get a smidge of attention here?” I waved my hand slightly, my voice ced with feigned cheerfulness that barely masked my burgeoning irritation.

  ...My dreamnd adventuring arc wasn’t off to a great start.

  His eyes blinked open, a faint, distant look clouding them as if he’d momentarily wandered off into La-La Land. “Hmm, oh,” he murmured, bnd neutrality returning to his expression. “How may I help you?”

  Clipping my words with a mix of annoyance and stark curiosity, I decred, “I’d like to join.”

  A response lumbered out of him, slow and dreadfully monotone. “After your mock battle, I have you listed as a copper rank. You may accept bounties of a copper rank from the board. Thank you and...” He stifled a yawn. “Have a wonderful adventure.”

  His disconnected demeanor wore at my patience. “I didn’t do a mock battle,” I retorted, biting back the urge to rip out his intestines—quite literally, I might add. What? I was hungry.

  His eyes, dull and distant, never quite met mine. “Thank you and have a wonderful adventure,” he repeated, words not truly meant for me, even though I stood alone at the counter.

  My cheeks puffed as I muffled “What the hell” past my lips. But, you know, whatever. If he didn’t give a damn, why should I stress? Apparently, La-La Land had green-lit me to snatch up any bounty that caught my eye—so long as it was copper-ranked. Fingers crossed they weren’t all “pick flowers” or other yawn-worthy fetch quests.

  I giggled with chaotic excitement as I pivoted away from the sleepy asshole and faced... well, nothing. Abandoned, pristinely clean tables stared back at me, the emptiness feeling overly haunting. Peering outside the open doors, I noticed the sneaky night had enveloped the world again. My eyebrows knitted together, fingers idly twirling a loose strand of hair as the cogs in my brain clunked and cttered, trying to piece together the weirdness of the dream realm.

  “Guess the sanity train has officially left the station,” I mumbled to myself, half-amused, half-exasperated.

  Sanity?

  I never needed it anyway.

  In the half-light of the empty room, an unexpected spsh of color snagged my attention: a girl, no older than six, with a wild mass of rebellious curls streaked with pink highlights that flickered in and out of existence.

  Just perfect—a creepy kid to top off this circus.

  Her skin, fading into cold and cracked charcoal, drank in the room’s dim light. And her eyes—oh, those eyes! They were an abyss, deep and fathomless, promising endless darkness.

  Well, isn’t that just peachy.

  Draped in a dress as pink as the transient streaks in her hair, she sat there, her expression teetering between a smirk and a scowl.

  Make up your mind, sweetheart—are you plotting world domination or did someone steal your lollipop?

  “Am I the only one seeing this?” I muttered, confusion stitching through my fractured mind. Of course, no answer. Figures.

  Turning back toward the counter, I was greeted by an abyss where the man had once been—his absence a silent, suffocating void in the otherwise empty room.

  “What the hell?” I spun back to where the little girl had been, expecting... I don’t know, spooky empty air? Instead, I was smacked in the face by a wall of hearty ughter and the rich, golden glow of sunbeams cheerfully filtering through the front door. My eyebrows might’ve shot into my hairline—wasn’t it just night a second ago?

  “Alright, this is some bullshit,” I grumbled, massaging my temples.

  Puzzled, I peeked back at the counter. Lo and behold, Mr. Bored-and-Ignoring-Everything was now Mr. Bright-Eyed-and-Bushy-Tailed, his face stretched into a grin that screamed, “How may I assist you today?”

  “Okay, which cheeky god did I piss off this time?” I muttered under my breath.

  ...Silence.

  With an exasperated sigh, I sauntered over to the board, a curse or two slipping out. A subtle ripple of eyes from the surrounding adventurers tossed my way, making me suspect that my tiny-terrifying-girl culprit theory just won the crazy lottery.

  Mental note: schedule a heart-to-heart with the mini-horror at some point—kids, seriously, who needs ’em? But a duel of wits with a possibly divine tween would have to wait in line; first, I’ve got more important things—like my first quest!

  He-he! Bikini arc!

  No—this is my adventurer arc!

  Important might be overstating it a smidge. Wanted was more accurate. Besides, the thrill of embarking on a legitimate, magic-dusted quest was tickling me in all the right pces. I mean, an actual adventure in a full-tilt magical world—erm, dream world. Jackpot!

  Oh, and let’s not forget that steampunk-y gnome. So, priorities: one, kill someone—uh, find food that isn’t a hallucination. Two, track down Mr. Goggles. Three, main goal: find a way back to Aislinn. And let’s sprinkle in a number four: have a little chat with Creepy Little Miss.

  Ugh, back to task number one: the good ol’ quest board.

  Wasn’t number one find food?

  Shut up! I want to do a quest.

  “Alright, what have we got here? Snag some cinnamon dew from a desert beetle’s underbelly—ten copper per ounce. Nab a few desert rats—twenty copper per rat. Gather lizard tails at three copper per tail...” My voice droned as I scanned the list. “And ah, of course, pluck a flower that has the decency to bloom only at the crack of dawn—all for a shiny silver,” I ended, dripping with sarcasm.

  I wonder which one of those would taste the best: beetle, rat, or lizard?

  Weren’t we going to eat a person?

  Shh! Details.

  A puzzled frown knitted my brows. “How many coppers to a silver, again?” I grumbled.

  “Hundred,” chimed in a female dwarf beside me, her beard gloriously braided in a way that almost made me forget my hunger. She leaned back, crossing her arms over her sturdy chest, offering a knowing, somewhat patronizing smirk. “Easy peasy, right? Cozy-like pattern it is—hundred copper to a silver, hundred silver to gold, an’ so on, right up to mithril, all in tidy hundreds, so it is.”

  I arched an eyebrow, skeptically surveying her face. Did she just expin the economy with ‘easy peasy’?

  She leaned in, eyes twinkling with pyful mischief. “Now, when ye get te talkin’ mana crystals, ss—oh, that’s where the plot gets lost, it does. Gets all wibbly-wobbly like a feathered donkey, dunnit? Ye’ve got potency, charge, an’ all that mystical ballyhoo, and then—whoosh!” Her hands exploded outward, emphasizing her point. “Any sembnce o’ straightforward’s up the forge chimney!”

  I blinked, struggling to process her thick accent and failing miserably. Where was Polyglot right now?

  What the fuck did she just say?

  Hmmm… I wonder what she tastes like?

  Stop being a pervert!

  I was being sadistic.

  I continued blinking, momentarily thrown off. Sure, the ‘hundred’ bit nded—I got the whole hundred-for-each-coin spiel. But the mana crystals part? Lost. Still, something told me that asking for crification would only spiral into deeper confusion. So, with a polite nod and a mumbled, “Thanks,” I chose the path of least resistance.

  “Aye, ye’re more than welcome,” she beamed, eyes dancing with dwarven mischief. “Ain’t ever id eyes on an albino humyn before. Usually, ye find ’em amongst them dark elves—nasty pieces o’ work, them. Same can be said ’bout the snow elves.” Her face scrunched into a momentary scowl. But like spring chasing away winter, her grin sprang back. “Me mates and I, we’re gearin’ up fer a bit of a monster hunt, y’see. Got wind of a wee drake stirrin’ trouble outside the walls. Could always use an extra mage, if ye’re lookin’ fer work. Ye are a mage, aren’t ye? With them glowin’ eyes an’ all,” she queried, gaze sharp yet filled with mischief.

  Adventure!

  “I am,” I replied, a sly smile tugging at my lips.

  My gaze lingered on the woman, absorbing the details that sketched her presence. First, the beard—an artful cascade of blonde braids, whispering tales of adventures through sly streaks of gray woven stealthily yet proudly throughout its length. It tumbled down, gracing her form and ending just shy of her waist. Then those eyes—vivid green, gleaming with a mischievous twinkle that quietly promised stories of battle lust and hearty ale beneath their pyful veneer. Her armor, with a sheen reminiscent of polished silver even amidst the dim, flickering tavern light, bore witness to countless campaigns, seamlessly melding the new with the old. And there, nonchantly slung over her shoulder, a battleaxe whispered of battles bygone and yet to come, its edge gleaming with muted threat and promise.

  Every inch of her echoed the quintessential dwarf, as if she’d strolled straight out of Tolkien’s imagination—yet something soft, a secretive mirth, lingered in her gaze, whispering of tales yet unsung.

  Her lips curled into a mischievous grin, her head tilting ever so slightly. In a pyful, lilting murmur, she said, “Takin’ a gander, are we, ss? Won’t lie, I’ve warmed the bedroll with a few elves and humyn ds, even a gnome or two, but never a humyn ss—and certainly not an albino at that. What say ye, fancy bein’ me first?”

  I blinked, her boldness pnting my feet firmly in a moment of stunned silence. “Umm, what?”

  A fleeting thought of ticking an item off my own bucket list fluttered through my mind. But until I was securely entwined with Aislinn again, I wasn’t venturing into anyone else’s pants.

  Her ughter, hearty and unabashed, filled the space between us. “Ah, just yankin’ yer tits, ss. They call me Grimmail,” she decred, her grin wide enough to rival the Cheshire cat.

  “Bke,” I said, after a moment of inner turmoil over whether I wanted to kill her right here and now or not. “A pleasure, Grimmail. Your offer—I’m in.”

  A slow, suggestive purr eased from Grimmail. “Oh, in that case, I wouldn’t mind getting me hands acquainted with ye. We’ll have so much fun sying that fire-breathing drake!”

  My eyebrows shot up as I felt a sp on my backside, followed by extensive groping—not just a single ass cheek; she was all up in there. “What? Drake? No, no—fire bad,” I cried out.

  What the fuck is happening?

  Are we going to get it on with a bearded dy?

  Why not? It’s not cheating if it’s in a dream, right?

  A vibrant chorus of cheers erupted from both the adventurers poputing the guild hall and the voices in my head as I skillfully wriggled free from her lecherous grasp.

  “Aw, now ye’ve gone and got me nethers all in a twist,” she pouted, mischief sparkling in her eyes. “But aye, we could really be usin’ an extra mage,” she conceded, a pyful grin dancing across her face. Sighing dramatically, she stretched onto her tiptoes, reaching as high as her stout frame would allow, and snatched a bounty from the board.

  Ugh! This ass belongs to Aislinn, dammit!

  She wouldn’t mind.

  Shut it!

  Booooo!

  Safely out of Grimmail’s reach—and honestly, given her dwarf size, it wasn’t too hard—I watched her take the parchment to the counter. They dove into an animated exchange, which I tuned out, letting my eyes and thoughts wander. I mean, today was wild. Respawning—erm, waking within the dream—in a winter wondernd, somehow ending up in a desert, crossing paths with a creepy child ghost or goddess, questioning my sanity, bumping into another Earthling, and then losing them again. Oh, and being felt up by a dwarf woman—that was an unexpected tick on the bucket list.

  So, all in all? Not a bad day, weirdly entertaining, even. Next up? Fighting a drake with a merry band of adventurers. Now, if only my woman was here, this would be the perfect dream come true.

  My thoughts were yanked back to reality by a firm hand patting the lower curve of my backside. “Aye, ye done daydreamin’, ss? We’ve got a drake that’s waitin’ to be sin,” Grimmail said, her hand lingering with assured familiarity. “The others are meetin’ us outside the gates.”

  Slipping free of her unyielding grip, I asked, “How many are in your group?”

  “Oh, we’re a snug, naughty bunch of five, ain’t we? Though there’s always a nook fer one more. We’ve got a catcher, a fister, and a healer—always cozy to have ’round after the rough stuff, ye ken? And dinnae ferget our grizzled auld man. He mostly just watches. Me? I’m the pounder,” Grimmail decred, her finger embarking on a bold nasal journey, followed by a fgrantly indulgent sniff of two digits. “We best shuffle along, else the old coot’ll blow his top, eh?”

  Holy shit, she’s in a party full of swingers!

  Sweet!

  I froze, disbelief anchoring me to the spot. Don’t get me wrong, I was no innocent flower. I’ve done stuff, embarked on my fair share of wild escapades—an ex-boyfriend’s mom, two girls, a guy, and me with a harness. That’s just naming a few. Yet my loyalty to Aislinn was non-negotiable.

  Ugh, I hope that doesn’t make me boring now!

  Who let the boring soul shard at the helm? Get her out and bring back the freak!

  “Catcher, fister, and a pounder?” I blurted, my eyebrows shooting upwards. “Look, I don’t think I’m into all that. I’m already in a retionship,” I continued, inching backward cautiously.

  When has that ever stopped us?

  Yeah! I’m down for a fisting!

  “Oh, would you all shut it?” I snapped.

  Grimmail squinted, a brief moment of confusion flickering across her face before she burst into hearty ughter. “For the gods’ sake, ss! Wha’r the terms ye humyns use, eh? Ah, defender... umm, tha’ hand-t'-hand loonie warrior, and healer, then wizard, and me, a pure offense type,” she paused, seemingly repying the words in her head before nodding assuredly.

  “…Sure,” was my only reply.

  “Aye, it be true,” she insisted, wiping away a stray tear from her ughter. “C’mon, ss, we’ve others t’ meet, but first, I need t’ grab a few things.”

  I tipped my head in a nod, shadowing the rowdy dwarf out of the adventurers’ guild, my hips swerving just in time to dodge her fast hand aiming for another cheeky grab at my rear.

  That’s it, she’s my next meal.

  Ya! Eat her out! Eat her out!

  Ha! I knew the pervert was still alive within us!

  At times, I really hated how I had no control over my own thoughts.

  There I was, jaunting off to sy a drake—an honest-to-gods, fire-breathing beast! Inside, my teenage self was performing jubint somersaults, and adult me? Yeah, I was all in for the acrobatic revelry. Although, I’d be lying if I cimed the fire part didn’t worry me—but hey, it’s just a dream, right?

  “So, what items are you getting?” My curiosity piqued; I wondered about the common things adventurers might grab before a quest.

  “Ye know, th’ basics. Food, water, ‘specially water out in these parts. Our healer’s got some nice water spells, but ye can ne’er be too careful, aye? Somethin’ happens t’ the healer, the whole party’s done fer if ye rely too much on ’em,” Grimmail paused, a shadow crossing her features. “Seen it happen too many times, I have.”

  “Oh, that does make sense,” I said, leaning in with a friendly, curious grin. “Any chance your healer might give me a quick crash course on healing spells? Gotta admit, my knowledge there is embarrassingly non-existent.”

  Fuck healing!

  Grimmail gave her head a thoughtful scratch, brows furrowing in contemption. “Mebbe, but don’t be expectin’ too much, aye? Castin’ ain’t really in me wheelhouse, if ye get me drift.”

  I blinked, taken aback. “Really? I kinda thought everyone here was doing... I don’t know, magical things all the time.”

  A wry smirk tugged at her lips. “Nah, ss. We’ve all got our own little tricks, but me? I funnel mana right inta these here muscles.” She flexed, her biceps bulging even under the sturdy armor. “Makes me axe light and me limbs sturdy as mithril.”

  I blurted out my next question, unable to contain the bubbling curiosity. “But if magic isn’t a one-size-fits-all thing, how does casting with ambient mana work?”

  Her eyes twinkled with amused surprise. “Lassie, ye really are green, ain’t ye? No one, not even them high and mighty gods, can wrangle the mana just floatin’ about. Ye gotta absorb it first—through yer skin, food, or naturally while ye kip. Only those fabled beings, the three Primordials and the Titans, ever cimed to work the world’s magic directly, but that’s all bedtime stories an’ legend, innit?” Her chuckle was a warm, friendly rumble—a nonjudgmental tease between newfound comrades.

  I maintained a stoic poker face, choosing not to reveal my own abilities in ambient mana-casting, nor the fact that I possessed the shattered soul of a Titan, pieced together with divinity... and housed in the twisted form of an Eldritch. Seriously, at this point, I was essentially a patchwork of arcane oddities pulled from myths and legends.

  I trailed behind Grimmail, weaving through stalls as she picked up goods, nonchantly stuffing them into a tiny pouch on her hip. Dimensional storage, I wagered. I felt a tug of temptation to access my own spatial skill just for kicks but swiftly nixed the idea. My skill, Stelr Void, involved a ghastly act that looked armingly like I was rending open my own chest cavity—because, well, I literally was. Definitely not the kind of casual parlor trick to whip out while masquerading as humyn.

  Didn’t we see something about losing that skill?

  Wait—what?

  I quickly breathed out, “Status,” hoping to see my status page and list of skills, but nothing popped up. Panic began to set in.

  Maybe the system doesn’t work in the dream realm?

  “Maybe,” I replied to my own thoughts, feeling a bit nervous now.

  Our stroll through the city sted over an hour, and—miraculously—nothing out of the ordinary occurred. No abrupt transitions from day to night, no bizarre events; it was just a typical shopping trip. Passersby nodded greetings, treating me like any ordinary Jane.

  The earlier unsettling oddness of the pce seemed to have dissipated, yet I remained vigint, keeping an eye out for the eerie child and my fellow Earthling trapped in a gnome’s body. As we meandered, another peculiarity piqued my curiosity.

  Dodging yet another of Grimmail’s groping attempts—ignoring the cacophony of protests from my internal voices—I quirked a brow and casually asked, “Hey, where are all the children?”

  I already knew the answer, but the question slipped out more from reflex than from any genuine curiosity.

  She gave me a look as if I’d been living under a rock. Her hand paused mid-air, then dropped to her side. “Ah, wee ones are a rare sight. We all have a habit of stickin’ ’round a verra long time, only meetin’ our end by mishap or misadventure, y’know. Some say it’s the magic that’s saturatin’ the air. Others reckon Death herself’s turned her back,” she confided, her frown deepening as another sneak attack on my posterior failed. “As fer the wee ones, a lot of the gods-fearin’ folk are of the mind that without the Primordial of Life, the whole cycle of reincarnation’s gone askew. But, t’ me, that’s all just tales an’ musings.”

  Racking my brain, I could only recall crossing paths with one child: the bunny-eared girl whose dad... well, ended up as my dinner. “There must’ve been others,” I muttered, thinking back to that kid I saw who pointed out that my head occasionally twitches—but that was here, within the dream realm, so I’m not sure if she counted. Momentarily dropping my guard—which, of course, Grimmail took as an invitation—I snapped, “Hey! Quit it.”

  “Ah, can’t help it,” Grimmail chortled, her hand unwilling to abort its mission. “It’s all soft an’ squishy-like. Why’re ye hidin’ it under that bck dress of yers? Ye oughta be funtin’ it, ye know, the way them barbarian types do,” she suggested, her grin wide and hand unyielding.

  With a mixture of lingering annoyance and begrudging amusement, I followed the shameless dwarf beyond the city gates, embarking on a path that would lead us to her party—and, inevitably, the drake.

  I’m going to be a real adventurer!

  It doesn’t count if it’s in a dream!

  Fuck off, it still counts! Just shut up and let us savor this, will you?

  1

  Like what you read? Wait—you actually did? Well, hot damn! I thought I was the only one with mental issues!

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