Elgard Forest stretched endlessly in all directions, a dreamy haze of green spread across the entirety of the brown canvas that was Milgardia.
Somewhere within stood a lonely well—the Travore Well—surrounded by grassland that formed a considerable ring around its stone lip. Beyond the ring, sturdy trunks of Selenus trees imprisoned the well in a cage of wood. Curiously, Selenus trees were only found in Flemuer Forest, cosmos away. Only the gods knew how they'd ended up here—though perhaps even they did not know. Somewhere in the ring, the trees parted, revealing a brown, dusty road.
Within the well swirled a trapped hurricane of color, a torrential vortex captured in the barrel's stone confines, twirling endlessly in hypnotic whirl.
Suddenly, something shot out of the Travore Well like a cannonball fired from a basilisk. It rose high, flying upward before a wild descent, landing hard on the grass below.
Then another. And another. And finally, another. Four figures landed, each in separate parts of the grassy field.
Soon enough, they all found their way to the dusty, winding path, meeting to discuss the way forward.
Today, though, something was different. On the path, just beside the grass, lying in the dust was what appeared to be an ancestor—like ones found in dream bubbles.
---
Consciousness returned not as awareness but as flood. Fragments of information cascading, forming the ocean of his being. No blanket. Then memory of the void. Then him using the skill. Meaning… meaning he was in another realm.
Eyes opened, revealing a sight he didn't expect. Well, he'd expected anything—but not this.
Humans. No, not exactly humans.
Around him stood four figures, each wearing starkly contrasting attire. One dressed like a Roman soldier, another in leather hides like a caveman from the Stone Age, his hair tied in a ponytail with bone sticking through. Another wore what seemed straight out of a sci-fi film—an interstellar suit. The fourth wore a baseball cap, plain white shirt, and grey sweatpants—very much like a modern human on Earth.
That wasn't what shocked him, though. It might as well be Halloween in this realm. What shocked him was the fact that they all had blue heads from the neck up, and from the uncovered parts of the Roman soldier and the caveman, he could make out crystalline clear, glassy smooth bodies with silky, bright, thread-like colors dancing within. The Roman soldier's threads shone much brighter, though the modern one had a deeper blue head than all the others.
It was definitely Halloween in this realm. But since when did humans exist outside Earth? And celebrate Halloween at that?
They were not human.
But then why did they look human? The universe wasn't a game that spawned humans in every habitable place. Or was it? If so, then humans came with trees—there were plenty around him. Not any species he'd seen on Earth, surely, but definitely trees, however beautiful they looked.
The blue-headed humans just kept staring at him, their deep purple lashes fluttering every once in a while, like children in a museum encountering wonders. Side glances every few moments. Still nothing but staring, admiring just as he did with them.
They were probably wondering what a brown-headed—whatever they are, definitely not human—is doing here. Must think he was wearing a costume.
Hands pressed on dusty ground before he pushed himself up. He would have to shower after this, though he didn't know if he could get any water. Trees meant there was probably water somewhere.
He clapped his hands to remove the dust.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, three of the blue-headed beings fell hard to their knees, prostrating before Zane. Only the one wearing modern clothing remained standing. Then they started speaking in some unknown language. As if waiting for this moment, a familiar panel appeared.
『A Tongue Unheard, A Bridge Unformed. The Scroll Unfurls, A Language Grasped. A Merchant's Dream, A Master's Weave』
Then, a spark of knowledge. Language exploded in his mind, understanding dawning, and suddenly Zane could comprehend what the beings were saying.
"…Oh Great Ancestor, have mercy on us for disturbing this divine one's sleep. Please do not strike us down. I will offer all my memories to you. We shouldn't have stolen from you…"
The Roman soldier spoke, his head hitting the ground several times, not daring to look up.
Beside him, the caveman knelt upright with eyes closed, hands clasped before him, muttering unheard prayers.
The interstellar officer appeared to be thanking him, his body swaying in cycles, hands raised upward.
"…Mighty Ancestor, thank you for the memory you gave me yesterday. I will wear it until it fades into oblivion. Wondrous Ancestor, I thank you for letting me learn from your kind. Your grace shines over me…"
Zane had finally had enough of the drama. He wasn't anybody's ancestor, let alone some blue-headed beings'. He didn't even have kids, and if one day he did, they wouldn't be blue.
Unless.
No, no… Impossible. He didn't surely exchange with the Bazaar, go back in time, and mate with some blue alien, only to now meet his descendants in the future.
Just then, a grim realization dawned on him.
'Is this why I could feel a connection to this realm?'
No. No way.
Future him couldn't be this stupid. There was probably some misunderstanding.
"Hey, you there."
He pointed at the modern-clothed being, speaking the new language he'd just instantaneously mastered. He had to confirm right now if his future self was as stupid as he suspected. The others immediately stopped what they were doing and looked at Zane, each still kneeling.
"Why are your companions calling me ancestor?"
A stern expression settled over his face.
"Me?"
The modern one looked around, then back, confirming that Zane was speaking to him and not some other blue-headed being that had mysteriously appeared behind him.
"So… sorry, you are speaking to me."
He scratched his clear, glassy neck.
"Okay, I do not know where to start. I'll try explaining. You look like beings we have been taught to call ancestors—like the ones in dream bubbles, or in the cathedral's depictions. Unlike us Gentlets, ancestors generally do not have blue heads. Their heads are colored different shades of brown. My companions here might have seen the color of your head and decided you are an ancestor. I hope this answers your question."
With that, he faced away from Zane, looking at the nearby trees.
This Gentlet was much more different from the others. That didn't matter, though—he had provided Zane with useful information. First, he now understood that these creatures were called Gentlets. He also—quite relieved—confirmed that he hadn't mated with any blue alien in another timeline.
"So… do you Gentlets worship ancestors? Why are your companions behaving like I'm some long-lost god? Why didn't you behave like them?"
Zane looked at the Gentlets kneeling before him. The galactic officer, hearing this, immediately stood up. The other two noticed and followed suit.
The modern Gentlet looked at Zane once again before speaking.
"Ancestors are not worshipped in any way by my kind. My companions behaved that way because they revere you. Gentlets mostly get all their memory from ancestors—makes sense why they would revere you. I generally think ancestors are just Gentlets with differently colored heads. The Council would frown upon my decision, but why exactly would I revere another Gentlet?"
He was definitely different. His answer just now confirmed it. Still, that wasn't a problem. Zane had gotten more than enough of the answer he needed. Had more questions, surely, but none of them were as important as the one he was about to ask. Nowadays, he found himself asking more and more questions. There didn't seem to be an end to it.
"What is this place? Is there a Gentish residence nearby?"
He first needed somewhere he could find peace, then he'd ask Nyx all the questions he wanted. Questions about memories, dream bubbles, and Gentlets could wait until he'd gotten himself accustomed to the Bazaar. As its eternal patron, he needed that at the very least to operate smoothly under his new role. At least he'd ended up in a realm with living beings.
"You are currently in Milgardia, Elgard Forest to be exact. If you follow this path, you'd arrive at Eryndor City, the only Gentish residence in Milgardia."
Milgardia. Elgard. Eryndor. The words settled in his brain with the precision of memory. A city sounded spectacular. There he could possibly trade, and if what he predicted about the Bazaar was correct, earn some privilege, then buy some mental capacity—he didn't know any other way to increase it than through the Bazaar—then go back home. Simple. Efficient. He couldn't risk finding himself on some far-away habitable alien planet. Eryndor sounded much better. He preferred the company of Gentlets to reptilian or slimy aliens.
"Are you heading to Eryndor? If so, I hope you don't mind company."
He looked at the trees. Spectacular, those trees were.
"Yes, we are returning from hunting missions. We are heading to Eryndor. I wouldn't mind your company—matter of fact, I'd rather escort you myself. The Council would surely offer me high-tier memories if I bring an ancestor."
He smiled, though how the glassy smooth skin of Gentlets formed expressions was a wonder only to be perceived.
"I'm really glad for that. Sorry for not introducing myself. I am Mr. Ling. Might I ask what your names are?"
He moved his eyes past all of the Gentlets before returning his gaze to the modern one.
"I am Blendriad."
The modern-clothed Gentlet spoke, his eyes wandering to the path ahead.
"Me, Cozysprouts."
The Roman soldier smiled at Zane before bowing down.
"Zest."
The caveman added, an austere expression plastered on his face.
"Easyglow."
The galactic officer stepped forward and offered Zane a handshake.
"I presume ancestors like doing this on such occasions, Mishta Lin."
Zane stretched his hand and shook Easyglow's hand.
"Your presumption is right, though we should have done it immediately when we met. Also, it's Mr. Ling, not Mishta Lin."
He understood why Easyglow called him that—after all, Gentish was pretty different from Cordian. But he would rather not be called that. It sort of sounded like "Lean." Reminded him of bitter memories.
And with that, the five departed, moving through the forest on the dusty road.