Tell me, gods. Who controls time? I've always wanted the answer. I've always wanted someone to blame.
"Augh!"
The boy was sent tumbling a couple of feet. But when he sat up, he was unharmed. His hands and feet had healed, and the scratches on his arm and chest scarred over.
A curse? Have I been cursed?!
The clash between Jackson and the orc made his head turn, but his body wouldn't move. In his mind, he wanted to help, but he knew he would only be a hinderance to the experienced fighter.
I hate this.
Milo's fingers dug into the dirt as he watched on, praying his companion would win for the both of them.
Large fingers fell to the ground as Jackson sliced the orc's hand. A roar rang out from the beast as it stumbled and clutched the open wounds.
This moment of weakness was enough for Jackson to gain the upper hand. One slice and the right leg was gone. A second later, the head was rolling on the ground. Milo sighed in relief.
Jackson turned to Flio and limped over as he held his ribcage where he had been hit.
"Fucking orcs," Jackson whispered.
As he lifted his shirt, he revealed a large black bruise covering most of his side. He draped the shirt back down over his side. It was torn and tattered elsewhere from the brawl.
Milo shuffled back to Flio and hovered over him while he waited on Jackson.
"W- Will he die?" Milo asked.
Jackson knelt as he patted Flio on the face. No response. Jackson's hand took hold of the arrowhead and quickly snapped it off. Blood drew from his palm, but he didn't react.
He flipped Flio over and slowly pulled the arrow from his backside. Flio groaned in pain.
"What are you doing? Aren't you supposed to leave arrows like that inside?"
Black elixir was dumped from a small, round bottle and onto the wound. Jackson tossed Flio over his shoulder and turned to the boy.
"He's not so weak that a small arrow would kill him. His body is tougher than you think."
Jackson smiled.
"Plus, I just gave him a medium-grade health potion. He should be good in a couple of hours."
Milo sighed as a smile formed on his face.
"Thank Vespus," he whispered.
Jackson stared at the corner where the goblin lay. His brow furrowed at the sight, but he quickly dismissed any thoughts.
"You... good job."
Milo flinched.
"I..."
"It's okay," Jackson said quietly, "I understand."
The smiles faded from Milo's face. The boy looked at his hands once again to see the wet blood still on them. He wiped them across his clothes and raised his head.
They nodded to one another and turned to the long, dark hallway in front of them.
As they made their way down the long stretch, Milo turned to Jackson.
"What do you know about dungeons?"
"Dungeons? A lot. Mimic dungeons? Not so much."
Mimic dungeons.
The response made Milo look down into his satchel.
He gasped.
The mimic was gone.
He twisted, turned, and looked all around his feet. Streaks of brown goo had disappeared from his clothing and arms where he held the creature.
"Shit!"
"What?!" Jackson shouted.
He saw Milo's frantic response and unsheathed his sword, ready for a fight.
"The mimic, it's gone!"
Jackson sighed.
"Relax. Mimics don't always persist once their conditions are met. If it's gone, it's gone."
"Oh..." Milo said, beginning to calm down.
"Elias knows more, but I know a little. I went to a small school for up-and-coming adventurers when I was just starting out."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"Then why come to the partifold? Adventurers make a lot of money if they are good. And you're one of the best here."
"Sometimes, we don't have a choice in where we end up. Everyone has their reasons for being here."
Curiosity almost got the best of Milo, but he refrained from asking too many questions. One thing he learned early on was to not ask about people's pasts.
If they want to tell you, they will.
Eventually, they reached the end of the hallway and stopped before a colossal door. It rivaled the partifold gates in size, but unlike them, its pitch-black surface swallowed the light. Strange engravings twisted across the metal, lending it an unsettling presence.
"Interesting," Jackson whispered as he felt the door's texture.
The two glanced at one another and nodded. Jackson pushed the doors open and darted backward. Together, they stood ready to fight.
On the other side, a large room appeared. The ceiling, walls, and floor were soaked in crimson. A small chandelier hung from the ceiling, providing a dim, red glow.
Milo followed Jackson's lead as he walked in. Flio rested on Jackson's shoulder. As the two walked around, they looked for any sign of explanation.
The boy cast his hand across the wall.
Seamless. Strange.
The texture was unique. Warm.
There was a single table on the far side of the room, placed in front of a door. Jackson set Flio down in the center of the room as he investigated.
Only, the table wasn't red—a normal wood that seemed well put together. On the side was a singular drawer. Jackson tugged on the handle, but it didn't budge.
Again, he pulled with all of his strength. Still nothing.
Propping his foot against the table, he leaned back to leverage his weight.
"Humpf!"
Veins popped from his head as he pulled with every ounce of strength.
Nothing.
The tension in his arms released as he gave up. A sigh was cast under his breath before he began to look around for any instruction on how to open it.
Milo continued to scan the room, but even the corners seemed to perfectly align with one another. There were no nooks or crannies, no sign of error in the sculpting, and no hidden key.
"Tsk. I don't get it," Jackson pinched his brow.
Milo stared at the corner of the room. There was a small feeling he couldn't shake.
Seamless. How is that possible? It's like this place wasn't built, but...
"...Grown," he whispered.
He turned to Flio.
"Jackson!"
Jackson turned around, unsheathing his sword.
"Shit," he whispered.
Flio's body had begun sinking into the floor. The red substance was already halfway up his body.
"I think it's alive!" Milo said frantically.
"What?!"
Milo tried running over to Flio, but a strange pressure tugged on his feet, gluing him to the ground. It was like running through honey.
Their feet sank deeper and deeper with every step. Jackson's hands became stuck as he struggled to pull Flio from the oozing floor. Milo was only a couple of meters from the center as he thrashed to get his legs unstuck.
Each step required him to lift his legs higher and higher to escape the viscous substance. Finally, he reached the center and tried to help Flio out of the ground. As he slid his hands under his body, his torso began to sink.
Milo looked to Jackson.
"WHAT DO WE D-"
Milo's eyes widened as he looked to see Jackson's eyes sink under the floor.
Milo thrashed around and pushed the red slime away, but the more he moved, the faster he sank.
Soon, his face was sinking into the floor.
As he let out a muffled scream, the thick substance crawled its way into his lungs.
I want to scream, but I can't. Am I... dead?
Milo began to black out.
The floor engulfed the three of them.
Black.
The busy room returned to a serene state.
Milo could feel his body. He tried moving, but it felt like the weight of something heavy was holding him down.
The sound of a large explosion made him flinch. He tried to scream for Jackson, but no words came out.
It's lighter.
Some of the weight was being lifted off him. Light began to pierce through as small fingers reached under and lifted something off of him.
Finally, a large wooden plank was thrown aside. Milo felt weightless, but still couldn't move, and one of his eyes was completely black.
He turned to see who helped him.
W- What?... H- How?...
Milo looked up at a small boy.
The boy's ears were bloodied, and his body was covered in dust.
I recognize this place...
The boy's face twisted and turned. Tears began to well. Milo looked on in horror as he stared at a younger version of himself.
The small boy began to mutter as he fell back.
"Amy, Paul, Garrison, Leena, Mikey, Lee, Julia, Leo-"
No! No! No! NO! NO! NO!
Milo's body surged with pain. He felt his jaw being twisted. He felt his eye being gouged out of his skull. His face being crushed.
AUGH! AUGH! AUGHHH!
He wanted to scream, but had no mouth to do so.
His younger self began to stumble, and eventually collapsed.
Black.
Milo opened his eyes.
A familiar scent filled the air.
What is this?
Around him was a small, but well-decorated room. It wasn't lavish, but it felt like a home. As he looked around, he noticed the top of the dining room table escaped his view.
I'm shorter. Why?
He opened his mouth, but didn't know how to speak. It was almost as if his brain had forgotten the language he knew so well.
Squeals of laughter caught his attention. His eyes widened as he noticed other boys and girls playing in the larger living quarters.
He quickly ran and gave one of the girls a hug.
A- Amy!
But how?!
His body acted against him. Every move he made felt predetermined.
And Paul, and Gary, and Leena, and-
The door opened. Milo turned to see who entered.
"I'm hooo-ome!"
"Come in!" The other kids shouted in unison. Milo could feel himself shout as well.
The others giggled as Milo saw himself enter through the front door.
Me, again?
The boy at the door turned to Milo and smiled.
"Leo!"
Before he could take another step into the house, the roof collapsed. A loud bang sent the children screaming as they cried out in pain.
AUGH!
Milo felt his arm partially rip from his body. Excruciating pain radiated all around as the crushing pressure of the rubble made every second worse than the last.
What is this?! Why is this happening?!
He started crying, but the sounds weren't his.
Another bang, and the rest of the building fell. His body was crushed under the pressure as his insides turned to mush.
AUGHH!
Black.
Milo flinched, but the serene scene had returned to what it once was. Again, his body replayed movements that weren't his.
Suddenly, hands clasped around him from behind. He turned to see Leo smiling up at him.
I'm... Amy?
The creak of the front door drew the kids' attention once more.
"I'm hooo-ome!"
"Come in!"
BANG
More screams, but a different ending.
Milo felt as Amy cried out from the pain of her ribs being crushed, but there was nothing he could do. His mind reeled from the pain. Only the weight of the building relieved him of the memory.
Another crash.
Black.
Kids laughed and played. He tried to gasp. He felt like he needed to scream. Even though the pain had faded, his mind still felt it.
Stop.
"I'm hooo-ome!"
"Come in!"
Again and again. The same scene in different bodies.
Stop it.
"I'm hooo-ome!"
"Come in!"
Black.
Stop...
"I'm hooo-ome!"
"Come in!"
Black.
Finally, he was at the last scene. The matron, who watched as the kids played, wore a smile beneath her warm gaze. The young boy opened the door.
Black.
Light pushed open the boy's eyes.
No...
The top of the table escaped his view.
No. No. I can't. I can't do this.
"I'm hooo-ome!"
"Come in!"
BANG
"I'm hooo-ome!"
"Come in!"
BANG
Milo opened his eyes, but he didn't bother to see who he was, nor did he think to count how many cycles he'd done.
Not in his lifetime did Milo ever think he'd envy the dead. All he had ever strived to do was live.
But now, he didn't hear the other children's laughter. An unfamiliar emptiness lingered in his eyes. Memories of his brothers and sisters dying bled together until his thoughts became a haze.
He reached for his waistband.
His knife was there.
Slowly, he pulled it out.
"I'm hooo-ome!"
"Come in!"
Is this... yeah, must be.
He closed his eyes and thrust the knife at his throat.
He felt it connect, but there was no pain. As he looked down, he saw the knife had been stopped by an invisible force.
W- What?
The children stopped playing. Everything was frozen in place.
The corner of the house had begun to cave in. Debris hung in the air as the children stood unharmed.
"..lo"
A voice.
Different from the others he had heard time and time before.
"..lo"
"...ilo!"
"Milo!"
He gasped as his eyes jolted open. He turned to see a man hovering over him.
"Jackson..." he whispered.
"Fin... ally," the man choked.
Blood dripped as Jackson fell back.