The world was too bright. Too loud. Too much.
Kaito lay on the sun-warmed dust. He blinked up at a turquoise sky. The air was dry. It was hot. It was scented with a hundred things. Cumin. Animal dung. Baking bread. Perfume. Sweat.
Voices babbled all around him. They spoke in a dozen different languages. He heard haggling. Shouting. Laughter. The shadowy silence of the Keep was gone. It was a distant nightmare. This was reality. It was overwhelming.
A shadow fell over him. It was not a shadow of darkness. It was the shadow of a person blocking the sun. He blinked up. It was the thief. The woman with the sharp ears and the mischievous green eyes. She smirked down at him.
"You gonna pay for the show," she said, her voice rough but amused, "or are you just planning to lie there in the dirt all day?"
He pushed himself up onto his elbows. His head spun. The world tilted. The Soul Fatigue status pulsed dully in his mind. He pulled up his main stats quickly.
HP: 35/40
MP: 5/30 (Recovering Slowly)
[Status: Soul Fatigue - Recovery rates halved. Duration: 18 hours remaining.]
[System Instability: 14%]
[Glitch Meter: 15%]
The numbers were a constant reminder. He was broken. He was weak.
"I don't… have any money," he croaked. His throat was raw from screaming in the void. Or maybe from disuse.
Elara's smirk didn't falter. If anything, it widened. "Figured as much. The whole 'falling out of a screaming hole in reality' look isn't exactly a rich man's style." She offered a hand. It was slender but looked strong. Her fingers were calloused. "Get up. You're attracting flies. And worse, you're attracting attention."
He took her hand. Her grip was firm. She pulled him to his feet with surprising strength. He swayed, the world lurching. She steadied him with a quick grip on his elbow. Her eyes, sharp as a hawk's, scanned him up and down. He could almost feel her assessment.
She saw the simple, strange clothes—the tunic and trousers from another world. She saw the lingering static in the air around him, a faint visual distortion. She saw the hollow, shell-shocked look in his eyes.
"Right. Come on," she said, not letting go of his arm. She began steering him through the crowded marketplace. She moved with purpose, weaving through the throng of people like a fish through a reef.
Kaito stumbled alongside her. His senses were completely overloaded. He saw stalls selling glittering trinkets that shone in the sun. Stalls with burlap sacks overflowing with pungent, colorful spices. Stalls with strange, prickly-skinned fruits he'd never seen before.
And the people. There were humans, yes. Men and women in rough tunics, in fine silks, in dusty travel cloaks. But there were others.
A woman with sleek, black feline ears and a matching tail swayed past, haggling over a bolt of cloth. Her movements were pure grace. A stocky, bearded figure with skin the color of weathered stone examined a metal tool—a dwarf. His arms were thick with corded muscle. A scaled being with a serpentine head and intelligent, slitted eyes hissed a price to a cowering merchant.
This was Oasis-Fortress Zerzura. It was real. It was alive. It was nothing like the sterile hospital or the silent, dark Keep.
"Where… where are we going?" he managed to ask. His voice was still rough.
"Somewhere you won't get scooped up by the city guard in three minutes," Elara said, ducking under a dangling, brightly woven rug. "Or sold to a slaver in five. You, my friend, reek of trouble. And of powerful, weird magic. That's a combination that either makes you very valuable or very dead. And judging by your entrance, I'm leaning toward 'very dead' if you stay out here in the open."
She led him out of the main, sun-baked thoroughfare. They turned into a maze of narrower alleyways. The buildings here were made of baked clay and sandstone. They were stacked precariously close together. Lines of laundry hung overhead, creating a patchwork of shadows. The noise of the main market faded to a distant, comforting hum. The air was cooler here. It smelled of damp clay and something faintly sweet.
Finally, she stopped at a heavy wooden door. The door was set into an unremarkable clay wall. There was no sign. No marking. She knocked. But it wasn't a normal knock. It was a complex rhythm: tap-tap-tap… a deliberate pause… tap-tap.
A small metal slot at eye level slid open. A single, suspicious brown eye peered out. The eye scanned Elara, then fixed on Kaito.
"It's me," Elara said, her tone casual. "With a stray. He's interesting. Open up, Bran."
The slot closed with a snap. A moment later, heavy bolts clanked on the other side. The door swung inward with a groan. Elara pushed Kaito inside and followed, quickly closing and re-bolting the door behind them.
Kaito stumbled into a new space. It was cool. It was dim. It smelled of machine oil, hot metal, and sweet pipe smoke.
It was a workshop. A proper workshop. Tools of all shapes and sizes hung on the walls in neat rows. Benches were covered with half-dismantled clockwork devices—gears, springs, and bits of brass gleamed in the light from a single, high window. In the center of the room stood a low, brick forge. Coals glowed with a warm, orange light.
And by the forge stood a dwarf.
He was broad. His shoulders were like a barrel. His arms, bare to the elbows, were thick with muscle and dusted with fine, dark hair. His beard was a magnificent thing—a chestnut brown cascade braided with thin copper wires. He held a heavy, well-used hammer loosely in one large hand. His eyes, deep-set and intelligent under bushy brows, fixed on Kaito. The gaze was not hostile. It was assessing. Like a jeweler looking at an uncut stone.
"Another one, Elara?" the dwarf rumbled. His voice was like two stones grinding together. It was low and powerful. "He looks half-dead. And he smells of ozone and burnt sugar. And fear."
"He fell out of a dimensional rift in the middle of the Sun Bazaar," Elara said, releasing Kaito's arm and walking over to a water barrel in the corner. "Literally dropped out of a tearing hole in the air. And you're right about the smell. He's got the weirdest energy signature I've ever felt. Not standard magic. Not divine light. Something else. Something… glitchy."
Bran's eyebrows, thick as caterpillars, rose toward his hairline. "Glitchy?" He set his hammer down on an anvil with a soft clink.
"Like a broken scrying mirror. All static and wrong colors. Flickering." Elara dipped a ladle into the water barrel. She brought it over to Kaito. "Here. Drink. You look parched."
He took the ladle. His hands were shaking. The water inside was cool. He gulped it down. It tasted of wood and minerals. It was the best thing he had ever tasted. He drained the whole ladle.
[Consumed Water. Minor Dehydration Addressed.]
[Soul Fatigue effect slightly mitigated.]
"Thanks," he breathed out, handing the ladle back.
"Name's Bran," the dwarf said, folding his massive arms across his chest. "This is my niece, Elara. Though 'nuisance' or 'menace' are also accurate titles. Now. Who are you? And more importantly, what manner of mess have you dragged to my doorstep?"
Kaito's mind raced. These people weren't Legion. They didn't have the clean, holy vibe of Seraphina. They weren't cultists. They were… practical. They were hidden. They'd taken him off the street. They'd given him water. A little trust might be his only currency here.
He took a steadying breath. "My name is Kaito. I'm… not from this world. I arrived here a few days ago. I have a… condition. A System inside me. It gives me abilities. Skills. But it's unstable. It's glitched. It attracts the wrong kind of attention." He met Bran's gaze. "The Celestial Legion is hunting me. They call me an 'anomaly.' And… something else is interested in me too. A Calamity."
The room went very, very quiet.
The only sound was the soft crackle of the coals in the forge.
Bran and Elara exchanged a long, silent look. A whole conversation passed between them in that look.
"A Calamity," Bran repeated slowly. He uncrossed his arms and stroked his braided beard thoughtfully. "You mean one of the Four? Which one?"
"The Shadow Sovereign," Kaito said. The name felt heavy on his tongue. "Lilith."
Elara let out a long, low whistle. It was a sound of pure admiration for the scale of the trouble. "Stars above, kid. You don't do things by halves, do you? Let me get this straight. The holy roller Legion wants you purified or dead. And a walking, talking force of ancient darkness is… what? Your patron? Your enemy?"
"My jailer," Kaito said. The bitterness in his own voice surprised him. "She thinks she's protecting me. Keeping me safe. She's… possessive. She had me in a demi-plane. A pocket dimension of shadow."
"And you escaped it," Bran stated, his eyes narrowing. "By tearing a hole in the fabric of her realm. With this 'glitch' of yours."
Kaito nodded. "Yes."
"Show me," Elara said immediately. Her green eyes were gleaming now. Not with fear. With intense, burning curiosity.
"Elara," Bran warned, his tone a low growl.
"What?" she shot back, not taking her eyes off Kaito. "If we're even thinking about letting him stay here, if we're going to harbor a fugitive from both the Legion and a Calamity, I want to know exactly what we're dealing with. I want to see the product."
Kaito hesitated. Showing his power was a risk. But he needed allies. Real allies. Not a captor. These people had offered a hand, not chains. He had to offer something in return. Trust for trust.
He held up his right hand. He focused inward. He drew on his slowly regenerating MP. The energy flowed from his core, down his arm, to his palm. "Mana Bolt."
A sphere of blue energy coalesced above his palm. It was the size of a walnut. It hummed softly. It cast a faint, cool blue light on his face and the nearby workbench.
Elara leaned in close. Her sharp eyes were wide. She didn't flinch. "No incantation. No focus crystal. No somatic gestures. You just… think it, and it happens." She looked from the orb to his face. "And the other one? The 'glitch' you used on the shadows?"
Kaito let the Mana Bolt dissipate. The blue light vanished. He looked across the workshop. In a far corner, away from the forge light, shadows pooled thickly. He raised his hand again. He didn't have much MP left, but he had a little Glitch energy to spare. He focused on the Shadow Spark skill. He felt the chaotic energy mix with his intent.
"Shadow Spark."
A bolt shot from his fingertips. It wasn't clean blue light. It was murky, like dirty water. It was streaked with crawling red lines of static. It hissed through the air. It hit the pool of shadow in the corner.
The darkness didn't vanish entirely. But it recoiled. It thinned dramatically. It pulled back from the point of impact as if burned by something it couldn't understand. The corner was now noticeably paler. The shadows seemed wary.
[MP: 2/30]
[Glitch Meter: 16%]
Elara stared at the corner. Then she stared at Kaito. "You don't attack with energy. You disrupt essence. You don't use opposing force. You use… noise. Chaos. You introduce an error into the system." She looked at Bran, her expression serious. "Uncle. He's not just a mage. He's a walking anomaly. Like a rotten spot in an apple. A flaw in reality itself."
Bran didn't speak for a moment. He walked over to the corner. He looked at the thinned shadows. He reached out a thick finger, almost touching the air where the Shadow Spark had hit. He pulled his hand back. "It feels… cold. But an empty cold. Not a shadow's cool. A void's chill." He turned back to Kaito. "Can you fix broken things?"
The question surprised Kaito. It was the last thing he expected. "I… I don't know. I've never tried."
Bran grunted. He walked to a cluttered workbench. He moved aside some gears and picked up a small, intricate device. It was a music box. It was made of polished brass and delicate silver filigree. It was beautiful. But it was silent. Still.
"This," Bran said, holding it gently in his large palms. "Belonged to my sister. Elara's mother. The mainspring is snapped. A clean, simple break. But it's a special alloy. Delicate. Normal repair magic is too crude. It would warp the metal, change its nature. Divine blessing would overwrite its history, its memory. It would play a hymn, not her lullaby." He held it out to Kaito. His deep eyes were intense. "Can your 'glitch' do anything with that?"
Kaito approached slowly. He took the music box. It was lighter than it looked. He didn't know the first thing about clockwork or mechanics. But he understood broken. His whole existence was broken. He touched the cool metal.
[Analyze Activated.]
[Item: Silverfiligree Music Box (Sentimental Value: High).]
[Status: Mainspring fracture at 3mm point. Material fatigue. No magical or divine signatures detected.]
He focused. Not on the mechanics of the spring. Not on the concept of 'mending.' He focused on the break itself. On the error. The fracture was a mistake in the continuity of the metal. A flaw. His glitch was all about flaws. Could he… smooth one over?
He let a tiny, carefully controlled trickle of Glitch energy flow from his fingertip. He didn't push it into the box. He let it interact with the fracture. He imagined the break unhappening. Not reversing time. Not applying force. Just… convincing the local reality that the break was an error. A glitch to be corrected.
The air around the tiny fracture crackled. Tiny red and blue sparks, like miniature lightning, danced around the broken ends of the spring. The metal itself seemed to vibrate, humming at a frequency he could feel in his teeth.
Then, with a soft, definitive click, the two broken ends jumped together. They fused. The fracture line glowed white-hot for a split second. Then the glow faded, leaving the spring looking perfectly whole. Seamless.
[Skill Forged Under Duress: Minor Reality Mend Lvl 1.]
[Description: Can repair minor physical breaks or flaws by locally overwriting 'error' states. Effectiveness depends on complexity and material. Cost: Varies with scale of error. Increases Glitch Meter.]
[Glitch Meter: 17%]
[System Instability: 14%]
Bran took the music box back with reverent hands. His calloused fingers were surprisingly gentle. He turned the small key on the side once, twice. Then he lifted the lid.
A delicate, tinkling melody filled the workshop. It was a sad, sweet tune. Simple. Beautiful. It was the sound of a memory given voice again.
The dwarf's tough, weathered face softened. The lines around his eyes deepened not with worry, but with emotion. He looked from the singing box to Kaito. His gaze held a new respect. A new understanding.
"You don't fix things, lad," Bran said, his voice quieter now. Softer. "You convince the world they were never broken to begin with." He closed the lid gently, stopping the music. "That is a rare talent. And a profoundly dangerous one."
"Can you hide me?" Kaito asked, the weight of his situation crashing back. The music box was a moment of wonder, but it didn't change the facts. "Just for a little while. I need to understand this world. I need to get stronger. I need to learn to control this… this thing inside me before it gets me killed. Or gets someone else killed because of me."
Elara grinned. It was a sharp, business-like grin. "We can hide you. This place is warded six ways from Sunday. Bran's got more hidden rooms and false walls than a palace has jewels." She leaned against a workbench. "But it's not free. There's a price."
"Elara," Bran sighed, a familiar sound of exasperation.
"What? We're not a charity, Uncle! Information is our trade. You," she pointed a finger at Kaito, "are a walking mystery. Your story. Your 'System.' What you know about the Calamity's domain. What you've seen of the Legion's tactics. That's valuable intelligence. So here's the deal. You stay here. We keep you off the streets and out of sight. We feed you. In return, you tell us what you know. You answer our questions. And you help Bran with the really tricky repairs. The ones that normal magic or hammering can't solve. Deal?"
It was more than fair. It was a lifeline. Shelter. Food. Knowledge. A chance to learn. All in exchange for information and a skill he was only beginning to understand.
"Deal," Kaito said without hesitation.
"Good!" Elara clapped her hands once. "First lesson of survival: Zerzura 101. It's a free city. Neutral ground. The Legion has a chapter house here, and influence, but they don't have control. Not really. The city is run by the Merchant Guilds. Gold is the only god everyone here worships. The good and the bad of that? You can find anything in Zerzura—information, illegal artifacts, passage to another continent, a master assassin, a love potion—if you have the coin."
She paused, looking him up and down again. "Which you conspicuously do not."
"I can work," Kaito said. "I can earn my keep."
"You'll work," Bran grunted, placing the music box carefully on a high shelf. "Starting right now. This workshop is a disgrace. Elara's been 'tidying' which means hiding the mess in worse places. You'll clean it. Properly. Sweep the floors. Organize the tools. Sort the scrap metal. Then we'll see about your control. That 'glitch' signature of yours is like a lighthouse on a clear night. We need to teach you to dampen it. To hide it. Or you'll have the Legion's Inquisitors, not to mention every bounty hunter in the city, knocking down my very expensive, very warded door before sundown."
To be continued...