Chương 70: Chapter 68. The Dream

Danner stumbled over a fallen log, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Blood soaked his left trouser leg, turning the fabric a sticky, rust-colored brown.

"Run faster!" Lissa shouted from ahead, twin daggers still clutched in white-knuckled hands as she ran through the dense undergrowth. Her usually immaculate armor was tattered, one sleeve completely torn away to reveal a network of fresh cuts. Behind them, the screeching grew louder. Not the mindless howling of simple predators, but the coordinated calling of pack hunters communicating positions. The sound bounced between trees, making it impossible to pinpoint exactly how close they were. Too close.

Always too close.

"Portal closes at sunset!" Kord bellowed, his massive frame crashing through bushes rather than navigating around them. His arsenal of weapons was noticeably depleted – only his great axe remained, slick with dark, viscous fluid.

"We've got minutes!" Danner risked a glance over his shoulder and immediately regretted it. Through gaps in the foliage, he caught flashes of scaled bodies moving in parallel to their path. Not chasing directly – herding them. Slashribs. That's what the old-timers called them. Six-foot lizards with hooked talons and intelligence that shouldn't belong to animals. The kind of monsters that played with their food.

"Jace! On your left!" Danner called out, spotting movement in the periphery. Too late. A blur of olive-green scales erupted from the undergrowth. Jace screamed as talons raked across his side, spinning him into the dirt. The slashrib skidded to a halt, head swiveling back, reptilian eyes locked on its fallen prey. Brennel, a few paces ahead, turned at his friend's cry.

"Jace!" Danner didn't hesitate. Despite the searing pain in his leg, he pivoted, bringing his crossbow up. The slashrib's muscles bunched as it prepared to pounce on Jace. Thwack The bolt caught the creature in the throat. Not a killing shot, but enough to make it recoil, screeching in rage and pain.

"Get him up!" Danner commanded, already reloading. His fingers left bloody smears on the polished wood of his crossbow. Brennel hauled Jace to his feet. The younger man's face was pale beneath the dirt and sweat, but his eyes were alert with terror-fueled adrenaline.

"I can run," Jace gasped, clutching his side.

"Then run!" Lissa shouted, already moving again.

"Two minutes to the portal!" They burst from the tree line into a clearing. The blue-white shimmer of the portal was visible across the meadow, anchored in its stone archway. The normally vibrant flowers were closing as daylight waned, folding petals against the approaching night. And between them and escape, a semi-circle of waiting slashribs – at least eight of them, tails lashing in anticipation.

"They cut us off," Kord muttered, raising his axe.

"Clever bastards." Danner took stock of their situation with the cold calculation of a veteran. Kord was favoring his right leg. Lissa's left arm hung at an awkward angle. Brennel's face was a mask of dried blood from a scalp wound. Jace could barely stand. And Danner himself had lost enough blood that dark spots danced at the edges of his vision. Five wounded adventurers. Eight fresh predators. A rapidly closing portal.

"Form up," Danner ordered, his voice steadier than he felt.

"Kord, center. Lissa, Brennel, flank him. Jace behind me." They arranged themselves without question. Even Kord, who typically bristled at taking orders, fell into position without comment. The slashribs spread out, mirroring their formation with disturbing intelligence. The largest – a battle-scarred male with a ridge of black spines – hissed something that sounded almost like language.

"When I give the word," Danner said quietly, "we charge straight for the portal. Don't stop for anything. Don't look back. Just run."

"And if they catch us?" Jace whispered. Danner loaded his last three bolts, one after another, into the repeating mechanism he'd added to his crossbow years ago. A modification that had saved his life more times than he could count.

"They won't," he lied. The alpha slashrib took a step forward, claws leaving deep impressions in the soft soil. The others tensed, ready to spring.

"Now!" Danner shouted. They charged as one, a desperate, battered phalanx aimed directly at the center of the slashrib line. For a crucial second, the predators hesitated, surprised by prey that would rush toward danger rather than away. Kord reached the line first, his great axe sweeping in a horizontal arc. A slashrib leapt, but too late – the blade caught it mid-air, nearly bisecting it. The creature hit the ground in a spray of dark blood, twitching. The formation broke immediately after.

Not by choice, but by necessity as slashribs attacked from every angle. Lissa's daggers flashed, opening a slashrib from throat to sternum before it could sink its teeth into her. She kicked it away, already turning to face the next threat. Brennel wasn't as lucky. A slashrib slammed into him from the side, bearing him to the ground. He screamed, using his forearm to keep snapping jaws from his throat. Danner fired two crossbow bolts in rapid succession, both finding homes in reptilian bodies.

One slashrib fell immediately, a bolt through its eye. Another staggered, wounded but still dangerous.

"The portal!" he shouted, seeing the blue light beginning to pulse erratically – the final warning before closure. Kord grabbed Brennel by the collar, literally tearing him from beneath the slashrib. With a roar, he hurled the younger man bodily toward the portal. Brennel sailed through the air, crashing to the ground near the archway and rolling to his feet with surprising grace.

"Go!" Kord bellowed, bringing his axe down on another attacker.

"All of you!" Jace sprinted past, remarkably fast despite his injuries. Lissa followed, pausing only to throw one of her daggers with deadly accuracy into a slashrib that lunged at her back. Danner fired his final bolt, catching the alpha in the shoulder as it leapt toward Kord. The creature crashed into the big man anyway, talons raking across his chest.

"Kord!" Danner shouted, drawing his short sword as he limped toward his fallen comrade.

"Get to the portal, you stubborn old fool!" Kord grunted, wrestling with the massive predator. Blood poured from fresh wounds across his chest, but his massive arms kept the creature's jaws from his throat.

"I'm right behind you!" Danner hesitated, torn between survival and loyalty.

"GO!" Kord roared. The slashribs were closing in, sensing victory. Brennel and Jace had already vanished through the portal. Lissa stood at the threshold, gesturing frantically.

"Danner! Now!" With a curse that burned his throat, Danner turned and hobbled toward the portal, each step sending lightning bolts of pain up his wounded leg. Behind him, he heard Kord's battle cry, followed by the wet thunk of axe meeting flesh. Twenty more steps. The shadows in the clearing lengthened as the sun touched the horizon. The portal's light flickered more urgently. Fifteen steps. A slashrib burst from the tall grass to his right. Danner swung his sword awkwardly, forcing it to veer away. Ten steps.

Lissa vanished through the portal, unable to wait any longer. Five steps. Heavy footfalls behind him – too heavy for a slashrib. Kord was coming. Three steps. Hot breath on his neck. Two steps. A screech of triumph. One— WAM The world exploded in a din of sound. Something wet and hot splashed across Danner's back. The screeching cut off abruptly, replaced by a gurgling whine. BAM Another impact, like a blacksmith's hammer striking an anvil. Another spray of warm liquid across his shoulders.

Danner stumbled, nearly falling, as the ground trembled with the weight of something massive landing behind him. He turned, sword raised in a shaking hand, expecting to see Kord. But, standing in the fading twilight was the boy from earlier – the solo mage who'd refused to join their party. Except now, illuminated by the pulsing blue light of the portal, he looked nothing like the unassuming youth Danner had dismissed hours ago.

The kid – Adom, that was his name – held a thrashing slashrib in one hand, gripping it by the throat as effortlessly as if it were a kitten. The creature's six-foot length whipped and twisted, claws raking at the air, unable to reach the boy who held it at arm's length. The slashrib's eyes bulged, its mouth gaping in silent panic. Then Adom punched it. One quick, almost casual strike with his other hand. The sound was sickening – bone and cartilage collapsing under incredible force.

The slashrib went instantly limp, its skull caved in like an eggshell hit with a hammer. Adom dropped the corpse and looked directly at Danner with eyes that glowed an unnaturally deep blue in the dimming light.

"You're welcome," the boy said. Before Danner could respond, Adom moved and scooped up Kord from where the big man had fallen just steps from the portal. The muscular adventurer, easily twice the boy's size, looked like a child in his arms. Kord was a mess. One arm hung completely detached, connected by mere strands of sinew. His chest was a lattice of deep gashes, and consciousness appeared to have mercifully fled. Adom's mouth was moving. He was saying something, but Danner couldn't process the words.

The boy frowned, stepped closer, and spoke again, his words clearer now as Danner watched his lips form each syllable with exaggerated patience.

"Gates. Closing. MOVE!" The shock finally broke. Danner's hearing rushed back like a wave, bringing with it the sounds of more slashribs approaching from the forest, the hum of the destabilizing portal, and the labored breathing of the boy standing before him.

"Right," Danner managed, taking a stumbling step backward toward the portal.

"Right!" They burst through the portal in a chaotic rush, Danner stumbling through first with Adom now right behind him, Kord's massive form cradled in the boy's arms. The portal flashed once, twice, then collapsed with a thunderclap that reverberated across the guild courtyard. Adom dropped to his knees, carefully lowering Kord to the stone pavers. His arms trembled slightly, not from the weight but from the exertion of the dash.

"That was way too close," he gasped, wiping sweat from his forehead and leaving a smear of blood in its wake.

"Another second and we'd be slashrib food." This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. The guild courtyard churned with post-dungeon chaos. This wasn't the orderly exit of a planned expedition, but the aftermath of a dungeon cycle closing – the desperate final minutes when everyone still inside made their mad dash for survival. To their left, a woman in scorched robes sobbed over the still form of her companion, whose lower half was simply...

missing. Nearby, two men in matching armor shouted accusations at each other – "You left him!"

"There was nothing we could do!" – their faces red with rage and grief. A trio of successful hunters laughed with the hollow, manic relief of survivors, counting coin and other loot from a dimensional pouch while their hands still shook. Blood, dirt, monster ichor, and less identifiable fluids painted the courtyard stones in abstract patterns. The air stank of sweat, fear, and the peculiar ozone scent of dimensional magic. This was a normal sight during the last day of a dungeon's closure.

Danner looked down at himself, at his friends, at the boy who'd saved them. They were a mess. Lissa's once-blonde hair was plastered to her skull with blood and sweat. Brennel's face was barely recognizable beneath dried gore. Jace leaned heavily against a courtyard pillar, one hand pressed to his side where the slashrib had caught him. And Kord...

"Healer!" Danner shouted, his voice cracking with urgency.

"We need a healer here now!" Guild staff rushed between groups, triaging injuries and distributing emergency potions. A harried-looking woman glanced their way, noted Kord's condition, and nodded sharply before hurrying toward them. Before she could arrive, Adom calmly reached into his pack and pulled out a green vial. He uncorked it with his teeth and poured the contents directly onto Kord's nearly-severed arm. The liquid hissed and steamed on contact, wisps of white vapor rising from the wound.

The dangling arm twitched, and muscle fibers visibly knit together before their eyes.

"This'll stop the bleeding and stabilize him," Adom said matter-of-factly, as if he hadn't just performed what looked like a minor miracle.

"He's out of immediate danger, but he'll need proper healing for the arm to be fully functional again." The arriving healer slowed her approach, eyebrows rising as she assessed what the boy had done.

"That's... impressive work," she admitted, kneeling to examine Kord more thoroughly.

"What potion did you use?"

"Custom blend," Adom replied with a casual shrug.

"My, uh, mentor makes them." Lissa and Brennel pushed through the crowd, Jace limping behind them. Their expressions cycled rapidly through relief at seeing Danner and Kord alive, guilt at having gone through the portal first, and confusion at the sight of the blood-covered boy beside them.

"You made it," Lissa breathed, dropping to her knees beside Danner.

"We thought you were–""Almost was," Danner cut in, nodding toward Adom.

"The kid saved us. Both of us." Three pairs of eyes turned to Adom, who was absently scratching his small blue companion behind its ears. The creature chirped contentedly despite being as coated in gore as its master.

"You're the solo mage from this morning," Brennel said slowly, recognition dawning.

"The one who turned down our invite."

"Good memory," Adom replied with a half-smile.

"Are you alright?" Jace asked, gesturing vaguely at the blood covering virtually every inch of the boy.

"You look like you've been... well, inside something." Adom glanced down at himself as if noticing his condition for the first time.

"Me? Oh, this isn't my blood." He paused, then tilted his head thoughtfully.

"Well, not just mine." The casual way the words came out of the child's mouth – for despite whatever else he might be, he was clearly a child – sent a chill up Danner's spine.

"Thank you," Danner finally said, catching Adom's arm as the boy turned to leave.

"You didn't have to come back for us."

"Oh," the boy shrugged.

"Don't sweat it. Right place, right time."

"We owe you," Lissa insisted.

"Especially Kord. If there's ever anything you need—""I'm good," Adom cut her off, already backing away.

"Just make sure he gets that arm fixed properly. That potion's won't heal it completely." The quillick chirped, poking his head out from Adom's collar.

"See you around," the boy said, and then he was moving through the crowd, his slight frame easily slipping between larger adventurers until he disappeared entirely. The team gathered around Kord as the healers began proper treatment. Lissa held pressure on a gash in Brennel's scalp while Jace shakily poured a potion down his own throat for his side wound.

"That kid," Danner muttered, staring at the spot where Adom had vanished.

"He took down two slashribs like they were nothing. Carried Kord like he weighed no more than a sack of grain."

"Well, that's a mage for you." Lissa said, wincing as she shifted her injured arm. Danner nodded slowly, lacking the energy to start a conversation about how the boy did not seem to be using magic back there. Instead, a decision crystallized in his mind as guild personnel bustled around them.

"I'll find him again. That's a debt that needs repaying."

Steam billowed from the surface of the bathtub, carrying with it the scent of sandalwood and something herbal Adom couldn't quite identify. He sank deeper, letting the water rise to his chin as the heat worked its way into muscles that still ached despite his accelerated healing. The dorm bathroom wasn't exactly spacious, but it had decent water pressure and enough hot water to fill the tub to the brim. Right now, that was all that mattered. Adom closed his eyes and began to hum.

The tune started low, almost imperceptible beneath the gentle slosh of bathwater, then gradually gained volume and confidence. Words came next, at first just scattered phrases, then full verses.

"... kings and fools both turn to dust, so why not laugh today? The wise man knows he knows nothing, the fool just walks away..." His voice echoed slightly against the tiled walls, the acoustics making him sound better than he probably was. The song continued, melody rising and falling with practiced ease as he reached the chorus.

"So drink and fight and love and live! Tomorrow's not a promise! The greatest joke in all the world is taking life too serious!" A knock interrupted the impromptu concert.

"Hey, what's that you're singing?" Sam's voice called through the door.

"Sounds pretty good." Adom's eyes snapped open. Damn. He hadn't realized how loud he'd gotten.

"Uh, nothing," he called back, sitting up abruptly. Water sloshed over the tub's edge, puddling on the floor.

"Just something stuck in my head."

"Never heard it before," Sam said.

"What's it called?" Adom froze, mind racing. The song was from his past life, something soldiers had sung during the Therian Conflict. It wouldn't exist for at least thirty years from now.

"I'm... pretty sure I made it up," he lied, wincing at how unconvincing he sounded.

"Just now. In the bath." A pause from the other side of the door.

"You're telling me you just spontaneously composed a fully-formed song with multiple verses and a chorus? While taking a bath?"

"... Yes?"

"Right," Sam said.

"Well, whatever you say. Dinner's in twenty minutes if you want some. I grabbed extra bread rolls." Adom exhaled in relief as Sam's footsteps retreated. Should he tell him now? No. No, another time. Tonight, he just felt like relaxing after the day's events. A sudden small splash drew his attention. Directly in front of him, Zuni was floating face-down in the soapy water, completely motionless.

"Hey!" Adom yelped, snatching the quillick from the water.

"What are you doing?" Zuni dangled from his grip, dripping wet and utterly limp. For a heart-stopping moment, Adom thought he might have actually drowned. Then one eye cracked open, followed by a tiny, annoyed squeak.

"You were sleeping?" Adom asked incredulously.

"In the water? With your face underwater?" The quillick sneezed, spraying bathwater, then gave Adom a look that somehow communicated both indignation and confusion at why this was an issue.

"You could drown, you know that?" Adom set Zuni on the edge of the tub.

"Your lungs are still lungs, even if you're... whatever you are." Zuni shook himself vigorously, sending droplets flying in all directions, then promptly curled up and closed his eyes again. Adom sighed and slid back into the water. The heat felt like heaven against his skin. The transmutation ritual had taken more out of him than he'd expected. Every muscle had that pleasant soreness of intense exertion, and the handful of remaining scrapes and cuts tingled as his enhanced healing worked overtime.

He flexed his hand underwater, watching rivulets run between his fingers. The silverback's strength now resided in these ordinary-looking limbs. It was hard to believe he could crush stone with the same fingers that were now just strong enough to wring out a washcloth. The soap had formed a layer of bubbles across the water's surface, trapping heat beneath. Adom scooped up a handful, studying the iridescent spheres on his palm before they popped one by one.

Simple pleasures felt particularly profound after a day spent fighting for his life. With a grunt, he reached for the shampoo bottle on the edge of the tub. His fingers closed around it-- Crack. The bottle split down the middle, thick liquid oozing between his fingers.

"Damn it," Adom muttered, hastily setting down the ruined container. Shampoo dripped from his hand into the water, creating a slick of lavender-scented bubbles. This would take some getting used to. Ten times the strength of an adult man, packed into the frame of a thirteen-year-old boy. It was like driving a racing carriage after only ever riding a docile pony. He carefully lathered his hair with the rescued shampoo, taking extra care not to grip his own scalp too tightly. The thought almost made him laugh.

What a bizarre concern to have. The water had begun to cool by the time Adom decided he was clean enough. With a resigned sigh, he pulled the drain plug, rinsed and stood, reaching for his towel. Carefully. Very carefully. The terry cloth felt fragile under his fingers, like it might tear if he pulled too hard. He dried himself gently and slowly, very slowly. At the sink, a new challenge presented itself. Adom stared at his toothbrush with suspicion, then at the toothpaste tube. This would require finesse.

He pinched the tube delicately between thumb and forefinger, applying what felt like barely any pressure at all. Toothpaste still exploded out, splattering across the mirror in a mint-scented arc.

"You've got to be kidding me," he grumbled, wiping at the mess with toilet paper. The toothbrush was next. He gripped it as lightly as possible, but still heard the faint creak of wood protesting. Brushing his teeth became an exercise in restraint, each stroke measured and cautious. Even so, by the time he finished, he'd managed to fray the bristles beyond recognition. Zuni watched the entire performance with what Adom swore was amusement.

The creature's whiskers twitched as Adom struggled to wrap his towel around his waist without tearing it in half.

"Laugh it up," Adom told him.

"This is harder than it looks." Dressed in fresh clothes--the simple act of buttoning his shirt had been nerve-wracking--Adom padded barefoot to the kitchen, Zuni trotting at his heels. Sam sat at their small table, a book propped open against a water jug. He looked up as Adom entered.

"You look less like a walking corpse," he observed, marking his place in the book.

"Though still pretty awful."

"Thanks," Adom replied dryly.

"Your talent for compliments never ceases to amaze me." Sam grinned.

"No, but seriously. When you got back, you looked like you'd been dragged behind a carriage through a slaughterhouse. Did everything go alright in the dungeon?"

"Went according to plan," Adom said, cautiously filling a kettle for tea. He set it on the stove with the delicacy of someone handling a newborn.

"Mostly."

"Mostly?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"That sounds concerning." Adom's fingers brushed against a small tin box tucked away on the shelf--the tea blend the sorceress had given him months ago. Had to get creative with the approach," Adom said, measuring out leaves with painstaking care.

"But I got what I went in for." He didn't elaborate on the silverback or the transmutation. Some things were better left unexplained, especially when they involved highly illegal ritual magic that technically counted as human experimentation. Sam watched him, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Why are you moving like that? Like you're afraid everything's going to break?" Adom froze mid-motion, tea leaves balanced precariously on a spoon.

"Like what?"

"Like that," Sam gestured.

"You're holding that spoon like it's made of glass."

"Just... sore," Adom improvised.

"Took a few hits. Nothing serious."

"Right." Sam didn't sound convinced.

"Well, I heard you saved some adventurers on your way out. The guild's talking about it. They say you carried a man twice your size." The kettle began to whistle. Adom removed it from the heat, focusing intently on pouring water into his mug without pulverizing the ceramic.

"Look, Sammy," Adom sighed.

"I promise I'll tell you everything that happened in that dungeon. The full story. And more. But it's complicated and, honestly, I'm exhausted. Can we do this tomorrow when I can actually think straight?" Sam studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly.

"Fine. But I want the whole story, Adom. No more of this vague 'magical enhancement' nonsense."

"Deal," Adom said, relieved.

"Tomorrow, I'll explain everything."

"I'll hold you to that," Sam replied, his expression softening slightly.

"And I've got all day, so don't think you can wiggle out of it." Adom smiled despite himself. Well, that was one problem solved and another created. He trusted Sam to keep his secrets, and the guilt of constant deception had been weighing on him more with each passing day. This forced promise was probably for the best. At least he had a night to organize his thoughts before the big revelation. Sam gestured to Zuni, who had curled up on the table, snoring softly.

His blue spikes still looked slightly matted despite his earlier attempt to dry himself.

"Your friend seems worse for wear," Sam observed.

"He'll be fine," Adom said, gently nudging the quillick with his finger.

"Won't you, Zuni?" The quillick just ignored them. Adom took a sip of tea. It spread warmth through his chest that had nothing to do with the temperature.

"I'm going to turn in," he said, carefully lifting his mug.

"It's been a long day."

"I bet," Sam replied.

"Try not to sing any more mysterious songs in your sleep." Adom gave him a half-hearted glare, then retreated to his room. The tea was already working its magic, making his eyelids feel heavy. He set the mug down on his nightstand with exaggerated care, then collapsed onto his bed. Zuni appeared at the doorway, yawning widely before trotting over to leap onto the bed. The quillick circled three times, then curled up against Adom's side with a contented chirp.

"Next time," Adom murmured, already drifting toward sleep, "remind me to practice opening doors before I accidentally rip one off its hinges." Zuni's only response was a tiny snore. As the physical world faded, Adom recognized the familiar shift into dreaming. He stood in that cave again. The one with the apple tree that shouldn't exist underground. Soft light spilled from somewhere above, illuminating the impossible tree with its branches spreading toward a ceiling lost in darkness.

The tree wasn't just visible—it seemed to pulse with a subtle rhythm, like a heartbeat. Adom had been here before, in dreams that felt more like memories, though he couldn't say when or why.

"Hello?" he called, his voice neither echoing nor fading, as if the cave absorbed sound. The tree's leaves rustled without wind. Or perhaps it was the sound of whispers just beyond hearing. Something pulled at him—not a physical tug, but an invitation that bypassed thought entirely. Adom's feet carried him forward before he decided to move. As he approached, details emerged that hadn't been visible from the entrance. The bark wasn't brown but a deep blue-black, like midnight sky.

The apples hanging from gnarled branches weren't the red he'd expected, but a burnished gold that caught and reflected the mysterious light.

"What are you?" Adom murmured. The tree didn't answer, not with words. But the pull strengthened. At the base of the trunk, where roots twisted into the cave floor, Adom noticed something new. A hollow—not large, barely big enough for a child to crawl into—nestled between two massive roots. He knelt and peered inside. In the small hollow, cushioned by what looked like blue moss, sat an egg. Not a bird's egg—it was far too large, nearly the size of his head.

Its shell was bone-white with faint, spiraling patterns etched across its surface. The strangest part was the fire. Blue and orange flames licked around the egg without consuming it or the moss beneath. The fire cast no heat, yet Adom could see it dancing, moving with purpose rather than chaos.

"That's... not normal," Adom whispered, leaning closer. The egg rocked slightly. Just once, then stillness. Adom held his breath. It moved again—a more definite shift. A hairline crack appeared at the top, spreading downward like slow lightning. A woman's voice broke the silence, speaking words in a language Adom had never heard—musical and sharp all at once. Fae language. The egg split wider— Something wet and rough dragged across Adom's face.

He jerked awake to find Zuni standing on his chest, licking his chin with determined enthusiasm.

"Ugh! Stop that!" Adom sputtered, pushing the quillick away.

"Your tongue feels like sandpaper." Sunlight streamed through the narrow window of his bedroom. Morning. Late morning, by the angle of the light. Adom sat up, rubbing his face. The dream clung to him like cobwebs, refusing to dissolve into the usual morning fog. The tree. The egg. That voice. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

"What time is it?" Zuni chirped and jumped to the floor, scurrying to the door before looking back expectantly.

"Right," Adom sighed. Classes first, then meeting Cass later. He'd need to be careful with his new strength around other students.