Vira's speech left everyone at a loss for words, and the Daggerfall Mountain range was solemnly silent, eerily so, free from the usual sounds of corrupted monsters fighting over territory. Arthur didn’t know how to break the quiet and was thankfully saved from doing so when David spoke.

  “You’ve heard our story now, Arthur, from the mouth of one who lived through it all no less.” The young man brushed his long hair back, momentarily looking like someone far beyond his years. “So then, outsider. Do you finally know enough about us to spin a believable tale? Where did you come from? Where have you been hiding all this time, and how many more of you are out there?"

  Arthur considered the question for a moment before coming to a decision. In a realm altogether separate from his own, to people who had no idea what an Originator was or how deadly Wovan would one day become, there was little reason to lie. More importantly, Arthur was tired of always hiding things, always keeping secrets, fearing reprisal and betrayal. He was stronger now, significantly so.

  And after hearing Vira’s story, he felt he owed the woman some truth, at least regarding what was happening to her world and the heavens breaking that had occurred fifteen millennia ago.

  “As most of you have already guessed,” Arthur began, “I am not from this world. In fact, I come from a reality that exists under a heaven altogether different from your own."

  His words were met with the appropriate response: surprise, fear and more than a little confusion. Vira, thankfully, seemed to have escaped from whatever funk she’d found herself in recollecting the past, and was once again engaging with the conversation. Arthur went on to explain what exactly a realm was, parroting the words Iris had told him what felt like months ago and adding all the information he’d learned since.

  To a people so disconnected from their history, compounded by the wealth of knowledge lost to corruption, relearning what their ancestors had probably once known— the true nature of their world, the realm, and their place within it— was ground breaking. Many of David's underlings were doubtful of his claims and understandably so, with one of them, a man named Ron, outright accusing him of being a deceiving puppet sent by Shylo to infiltrate their ranks.

  Vira, on the other hand, looked like a woman who’d been enlightened. He could almost see her thought process as she connected dots from ancient passages she’d read in books that had since been lost to time. For once, the old woman was an open book, and Arthur could hear rapid mumblings as she corrected and discarded theories she’d learned and created over the past centuries. It was only because of her eventual acceptance that he wasn’t lying that everyone else reluctantly agreed that maybe he wasn’t a crazy fool.

  Only then, when everyone was on the same page, did Arthur explain exactly who he was and why he’d come here.

  “So that’s what that weird distortion was,” David exclaimed, “a dimensional breach that lets you travel to our realm. Are you sure you can get back, though? All our testing showed that nothing we send goes through. I think it’s a one-way track only, visitor.”

  Arthur suppressed a cringe at his new title.

  Myriad Tongues translated it as visitor, or sometimes traveller, depending on the context, but the way everyone said it with some strange reverence made it clear the word held significant importance in their culture.

  “That actually tracks with what I know,” Arthur replied. “Haadran is a tier 2 planet, while Earth, its mirror, is only tier 1. It’ll take a little longer than usual before things on this planet can cross over to our side, though as an inhabitant of the Myopan realm, the same restrictions won’t apply to me.”

  “Don't ask me how any of it works,” Arthur added, raising his hands in surrender before Vira could say anything. “There's probably some very complicated explanation on why things work like that, but I only know what happens, not why.”

  “It's because of the realm imprint on your soul,” Maverick spoke suddenly, his voice weak and gravely. He struggled to sit up, and David rushed over to help him.

  “You should've been asleep for another three hours at least,” Vira said dryly, “but you were always one to do things in your own time.”

  Maverick chuckled. “I knew you’d be an interesting guy when I saw you meditating right next to the corpse of two living dead, but this story... a whole new realm.” The giant man ran a hand through his hair. “The heavens must favour me something fierce. You’re actually the second otherworlder I’ve ever met, though the first was hardly special. He was merely a man on his deathbed, someone who’d fled the corruption of his world and crash landed on our own. He had interesting things to say, though. Strange, fantastical things I dismissed as the ramblings of a dying man. Today, almost a millennium later, I meet the man whose existence tells me that it was I who've been a fool all along. It's almost like a cosmic joke, only it's not really funny.”

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  Maverick stood to his imposing seven and a half foot height, resting his weight on his great axe. “I can guess who you are, then, realm traveller. The otherworlder spoke of your kind. Powerful men and women who appeared out of thin air to help battle the festering corruption plaguing their world, heaven-sent at their darkest moments.” Maverick's eyes darkened. “He called you false heroes. Enemies hidden under the banner of aid. Once the corruption was pushed back, the so-called heroes plundered the world core and left, closing the portals behind them as they did, leaving as suddenly as they’d arrived. They left a dying world behind them, free from corruption but left worse in its absence.”

  Arthur tensed his legs and assessed the people around him. He was in no condition to engage in battle, but he could see no avenue of escape. Maverick hefted his axe, a signal for everyone to do the same with their weapons. The tension was thick enough that Arthur could almost feel its weight.

  “I will ask you this only once, Arthur,” Maverick said. “Are you friend or foe? Do your people seek to help us, or are you plunderers looking for your next victim?”

  Arthur didn’t reply immediately, instead staring the man in his eye. Maverick's gaze was cold and harsh, the eyes of a man who had led his people to their deaths in a war that had engulfed the entire world. This was a man ready to kill in cold blood, one who was always ready to cross the line in the name of the greater good.

  The others, Arthur noted, weren’t so steady, but he didn’t doubt they’d attack with intent to kill if Maverick called for it. Arthur sighed and rubbed his temples.

  “I can’t speak for those who may come after me,” Arthur began, “but I came to this realm for one reason and one reason alone.”

  “And what is that?”

  “To become strong,” Arthur’s reply was simple.

  Maverick stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate for a second before realising that was all he was getting for an answer. The giant man grinned, hefting his axe and returning it to its place on his back, though Arthur noted no one else followed his lead this time. Vira, notably, still held on to the magic she'd gathered.

  “As far as reasons go, the pursuit of strength justifies near enough everything we do as awakened humans. So long as you challenge only those who have succumbed to corruption and none of our own, I have no qualm with you staying amongst us. Heaven knows we need all the fighters we can get.”

  “Is that it?” Arthur said, surprised. “You’re not gonna ask me anything else.”

  Maverick chuckled. “Everyone's entitled to a few secrets, and yours are hardly secret at all. Knowing how much you do about realms, corruption, and everything else means you came from a society far more advanced than our own. I’d expect that your people have mastered interplanetary travel, which means you could always go to a higher-tier world if you were looking for a challenge.”

  “The fact that you came here can mean one of two things. Either you're incredibly poor and can’t afford it, which is highly unlikely considering your talent and strength, or, more likely, you're running from something. Most likely, someone. Am I wrong?”

  “Well, when you break it down like that, it all sounds so simple,” Arthur replied. “You got one thing wrong, though.”

  “Truly?”

  “I’m not running from someone. Half the realm wants me dead.”

  Maverick whistled. "Damn, I’m responsible for killing half the planet, and these people still like me.”

  Vira rolled her eyes. “No, Maverick. We tolerate you. Every day I’m more and more tempted to finally slit your throat.”

  Maverick’s eyebrow twitched. “Vira aside, everyone still loves me. What did you do then? Blow up the other half of the realm. Kill a religious figure. Steal away the lord of the realms' wife.”

  Arthur smirked. “Well, my girlfriend is the daughter of one of the strongest men in the multiverse. And her mom's a literal queen of hell.”

  Maverick nodded sagely. “Yeah, that would do it. Still, must be quite the woman to get the entire realm coming after you.”

  Vira slapped him on the back of the head. “No, you bloody fool. Of course, it's not because of some damn woman.” Vira turned to stare at Arthur. “An actual answer this time, or at least part of it, please. I’d feel a lot more comfortable having you around if I knew why you’re so reviled. You are fairly powerful, I’ll give you that, and I can sense your nature as a sorcerer of the soul, but your kind isn’t so rare as to have so many chase you down.”

  Arthur frowned. He’d kept a tight lock on his affinities all throughout this meeting, using his skills to scramble his aura. It seemed having a powerful healer operate on his body was something he’d have to avoid in future. Vira stared at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. Even Maverick, beneath his veneer of playful humour, was paying attention.

  “It’s because they fear me,” Arthur replied. “Or rather, they fear her,” he pointed at Wovan, who seemed to have fallen asleep on his lap. “They fear what we may become.”

  Vira looked at his pet spider, truly looked, with the weight of all her diagnostic power and near millennia of experience. Her skin rapidly paled, and her eyes widened in surprise.

  “That I can understand,” she said sombrely, before turning and walking away. “Come, let us return home. My old bones aren’t made for these damn mountains.”

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