Guthethya approached the unmoving body cautiously, her eyes scanning the room for another exit. The gas was a pale, creeping tide in the ducts, beginning to spill from the grilles. She had seconds, not minutes.
She crouched beside the unconscious tenebrim. His chest rose in ragged hitches, sweat beading on his brow. Nightmares, she thought. The gas is already in him.
Her hand went to the kopis at her hip. Killing him here would be just and efficient. But his breath hitched again with a pained, almost childlike sound, and her fingers stilled.
He probably knows things. Things the ledger can't tell me.
Cursing under her breath, she grabbed his arm and hauled him up, slinging his dead weight over her shoulder. The ledger was tucked tight under her other arm. She staggered toward the far archway, the sweet, cloying scent of the gas now thick in the air.
The stone walls seemed to falter as her head swam, her balance wavering.
Just need to find Torren… find the hero…
But as she stumbled into the next corridor, the weight on her shoulder felt lighter. The scent of gas faded, replaced by the smell of sun-baked earth and roasting maize. A child's laughter echoed, familiar and long-forgotten.
Guthethya stopped, her breath catching.
No.
The corridor was gone. She stood at the edge of her village, whole and unharmed, under a clear blue sky that had not burned for years.
The gas had her.
===========
The Gate didn't bring us to safety. The transportation was brief and less flashy than I had expected, but I felt like something being pulled straight from my core, leaving me with the same familiar dizziness as when I'd been healed in the courtyard.
We stumbled out into a low, circular vault deep under the city. The air was clearly not natural, thick and sweet, shimmering with a faint, milky mist.
Torren took two steps before his legs began to buckle. "Poison… and this…" he grunted, slumping against the wall.
Seraya's eyes widened in recognition and panic. "Somnus Gas…? The concentration is too high! We must—" A fit of coughing cut her off, swaying and losing balance, her knees giving way.
I moved to catch her, but the world was already swirling as the sweet scent filled my lungs, my head beginning to swim with more than just dizziness. The last thing I saw was Torren's face as he forced himself to stand upright, determined to stand guard even as the gas closed around us.
The last thing I heard was his ragged promise: "I'll… keep watch…"
Then everything seemed to melt into swirling colors, and I was running, fleeing down a muddy path, a spear clutched in a hand that didn't feel like mine. My sabatons kicked up dirt, my breath ragged from exertion. The moment I realized it, I lost my balance and fell face-first into the mud, my spear clattering away.
It was chaos everywhere. Men screamed, mixed with the distant shrieks of beasts and the clash of steel against flesh. The smell of iron, dirt and something burnt filled my nostrils, my heart pounding so hard it might very well beat out of my chest. In the distance, I could hear a faint, panicked shout: "Retreat! A retreat has been issued! Retreat!!"
Where the fuck am I?!
I'd attempt to push myself up, just to have the sole of someone's foot knock into me in their hurry and fall down again. I felt heavier than usual, and when I looked at my arms and chest, the reason was clear. I was wearing a suit of armor, and a crest I didn't recognize was on my chest: a stylized sun being pierced by a lance. I then heard the sound of hooves coming closer and closer, then to a halt right beside me, the horse letting out a whinny.
"Lieutenant Richard! Are you alright?" his voice broke through the chaos, and I looked up to see a gruff bald man with a serious burn mark around his neck, barely covered by half-dirty rags. "Get up before the beasts catch up! We can't lose more of our men today!"
Gathering the last of my strength, I reached up to grab his outstretched hand, but before I could, a voice cut through the panic.
"Dragon Breath incoming! W-watch ou–"
Before I could register the warning, I saw something dark coming at us at incredible speed, and the last thing I heard was the tremble from the impact and screams of agony from those unfortunate enough to not have been finished off immediately.
When my eyes opened again, I was no longer on the ground. I was instead met by the wind whipping at my face, somewhat averted by a pair of googles I wore. But the most jarring part of it all was the fact that I was sitting on top of a winged creature similar to a wyvern, its red wings flapping as it surged towards a black-scaled dragon breathing something dark on the soldiers below.
Again? What's going on!?
I didn't have any time to think as my wyvern suddenly made a smooth turn to the side as the black dragon aimed its breath at us. I instinctively tightened my grip on the reins. Knowledge of how to bank, dive, and signal the wyvern flooded my head.
"Charge forward!"
That hadn't come from any of the other people riding their wyverns beside me. It had come from my own mouth, unfamiliar, deep and with a passion I could never muster. The other riders dived towards the dragon at an impossible speed, straight for its torso. "For our Motherland and the True King!"
I could only watch with dawning horror as the first line of chargers exploded upon impact, followed by the pained shriek of the dragon who immediately began spewing its breath wildly, hitting a few of the suicide bombers that exploded upon impact.
I groaned and clasped my head as a sharp pain shot up my head. Memories I didn't recognize and feelings I had never felt flooded into my mind, almost as if he was being forced to accommodate into this body that he now occupied.
I tried to shake away the intruding thoughts and feelings, losing my grip on the reins as I did. As I fumbled to grab them again, something black entered my peripheral vision, followed by a sharp, white-hot pain shooting up my ribs, flung off my saddle and falling down.
In its panic, the dragons tail had hit me, and now I was falling to my death.
It hurts… it hurts so much. I don't want to die…
The dragon let out a deafening roar as it began a nosedive, charging straight for me, its maw wide open. All the other suicide chargers had done their job, but to no avail, and now I was next in its menu. A feeling of resignation settled over me, and with it, a thought that crawled into my mind from somewhere else: Finally… I can rest….
Once again, everything went black as its teeth closed around my head, ending my second life.
The next time I opened my eyes, I was not in a battlefield, nor in the sky.
I was standing tall and straight on a high stone podium overlooking a vast, snow-covered plaza. A biting wind cut through heavy, ornate robes I did not recognize. Before me, a sea of people—hundreds, maybe thousands—gathered around a massive stone monument. It depicted a giant man holding a globe aloft in one hand, while with the other he aimed a spear at the sky, where the carved shapes of winged monsters swirled. It was achingly, impossibly familiar.
The Civilization VI cover. What the hell?
My breath fogged in the air, the air even colder than the winter back home. Something noticeable was also that this civilization wasn't human. The crowd wore thick furs and woolens against the deep cold, but on those who had their heads uncovered, I saw the sharp, elegant points of elven ears. Every single one of them.
The city around us was not a forest village, but something far more developed than I imagined for elves. There were stone buildings with steep, snow-capped roofs lined smooth, paved streets. Sleek, enclosed carriages drawn by sturdy horses moved slowly through the white. But most notably, orange light pulsed within thick glass pipes that ran along the buildings and streets, emitting a faint, palpable heat that clashed with the winter chill.
"Attention, people of Rikardia!" a voice boomed, loud and clear. My voice. It was amplified, coming from a delicate brass device clasped to the high collar of my robes. A small, glowing circle of light projected from a crystal set within it, vibrating with the sound. I felt a strong gust of wind push from the device as I spoke, carrying my words over the silent, waiting crowd.
As I spoke, the last whispers of chatter died. Thousands of elven faces turned up to me, standing at perfect, respectful attention. Seeing them all focused, I—or rather, the man I inhabited—continued.
"First, let us congratulate ourselves for surviving yet another Doomsday. The 31st Hero has aided the southern kingdoms, sure, but it was we as a people who survived it. The Hero's reach did not extend to the lands of the elves. Instead, it was She who guided us. Let us all offer a prayer to our Goddess of Frost, for helping us embrace the cold!"
The crowd stirred. A low, harmonious murmur rose, some offering quiet prayers, others joining a loud, unified chorus: "Praise be to our Mother of Frost, our protector, and our Goddess, Emilia-tan!"
Emilia? The thought shot through me, a spark of my own consciousness in this borrowed mind. Did he just say 'Emilia-tan'? Since when is Emilia a goddess to anyone but Subaru?
I had no control here. I was a passenger, seeing through his eyes, feeling the chill on his skin, the solid stone beneath his boots. My borrowed feet began to move, pacing with a slow, commanding grace along the podium's edge.
"Now, it is time for the main matter," the voice proclaimed, my voice. "We have come far. Far in survival, but further still in technology. Ever since the Lost Age, our ancestors have fought against the Grand Monarch's giants and drakes, all while surviving against the endless frost. And still, we stand!"
A chorus of cheer rang over the crowd, a solid wave of sound that spoke of shared struggle and hard-won pride. Then, memories that were not mine flashed behind my eyes: battles in frozen mountain passes, the fall of a great ice-wall gate, the terrifying sight of giant, troll-like creatures lumbering over the tallest trees and once required an entire platoon of elite warriors to bring down. It was then followed by newer memories: those same beasts falling to coordinated volleys from sleek, steam-powered rifles wielded by only a handful of soldiers. The technology left by past Heroes had changed everything.
"But now that we have adapted to the frost, we must move forward! We must think higher! We can no longer be content with the little we have secured."
A wave of uneasy murmur swept the crowd. I could feel their doubt, their fear of greed, their satisfaction with hard-earned safety. Even I, the trapped observer, was taken aback. The speech had started so well, so unifying. Now he sounded like a power-hungry fool.
"Now, I understand what you may be thinking," the voice continued, softening into a tone of profound sincerity. "That I have taken the blessings of our Goddess for granted. That I am not content. This is not true. It is thanks to Her guidance that we have been able to put our focus into more than mere survival. All this struggle, all this sweat, all this blood... it has not been for nothing. It has paved a path for us to go further into the world, for us to explore. Not to conquer, like the Nightmarish Monarch of old, but to live for more than survival. Do you not see? This is the true gift of Mother Frost, a chance to use our strength to explore the world, to be free! So I ask you all... do you wish to be free? To live for more than the next winter? Or will you let this chance pass, forever content with the quiet fear that your potential was wasted?"
The words hung in the frozen air, heavy and true. A deep silence fell, then was slowly filled by a low, growing hum of agreement, of ignited hope.
Woah. The thought was entirely my own, a spark of awe in the prison of this vision. That was... heavy. And he might actually be right.
Before the crowd's agreement could solidify into a roar, before I could see what this elven leader would do next, the cold suddenly intensified. It became sharp, painful, biting into the vision itself. The approving faces of the elves began to blur, their forms softening like figures in a melting painting. The stone of the podium, the heat of the pipes, the monumental statue; all of it shattered like ice and faded into swirling white.
The world dissolved into a sudden, overwhelming warmth, and the scent of fresh linen and wood polish.
The next time I opened my eyes, my body felt different again...