Streamer in the Omniverse

It took me a while to post this chapter because I was finishing the draft of the arc that is ongoing on my (P)(A)(T). I want it to be as good as, or better than, the Village Jille and Winterhord arcs. Well, here's the chapter!

As always, if anyone wants to support me or just read 3/7 chapters ahead, that's possible on my (P)(A)(T). If not, thank you for reading!

That said, good Night and happy reading!

(P)(A)(T)/CalleumArtori

[...]---[...]

Alalia and I remained silent for a few seconds. She seemed more than content to observe me up close, with only the small tea table separating us. I took the moment to do two things. The first: I observed her back, not just with my eyes, but with all my senses.

When she touched my hand, I had tried to analyze her earlier, but the sheer number of zeroes that appeared left me unwilling to count them. The title didn't reveal much either; the stream merely asked if I wanted to analyze the 'Last Dryad of Terraria.'

That Alalia was strong, I already knew; that she was the last Dryad, I knew as well. The analysis didn't help at all, so I had to figure things out on my own and see if I could discover more about her.

The Dryad was clearly analyzing me, so I didn't try to hold back, much less hide my probing, and extended my senses toward her.

I did this for about five, maybe ten seconds—I wasn't sure; it could have been much longer—before retracting all my senses and pulling them back into my body. My head started to ache a little, and my vision blurred, filled with static, like an out-of-tune television. It was like walking through a jungle; after that, I traversed mountains, deserts, plains, tundras, taigas, rivers, seas… It had no end.

No matter how deeply I tried to "look," or how far my "vision" extended, I simply couldn't find a limit, only a thin line of a very distant horizon…

"Did you find what you were looking for?" …Alalia asked. I hesitated to call her a monster in my mind; she could probably have them for breakfast. She tilted her head to the side in a cute way. "I can't see more than the outline of your soul. Something protects and hides it… Even the outline, I think I can only see because you allow it. It's the first time I've seen something like this; it seems to cover your skin?… Strange."

… Right, important information: she can see my soul… Being on the other side of the coin was awful. From her last comment, it seemed she could see my Aura too.

"Yes and no. But I did figure out a few things." I replied, diverting my gaze from her face and looking toward the storm in the distance, sniffing the air twice. Night was beginning to fall. "The smell of blood and rot intensifies at night."

The second thing I was doing was keeping part of my attention on the storm. At least before I started probing Alalia. When night fell, the moment the sun fully set, the storm had subtly changed.

It was subtle, but the clouds and everything under their shadows seemed more… off. I couldn't quite put my finger on it; I just knew it felt strange. It didn't seem natural, like a photo of a face with one too many or too few details. Maybe the eyes were closer together, maybe the nose was lower than it should be, maybe the mouth was slightly crooked…

… It was just enough for me to know something was abnormal, but not exactly what was abnormal.

"What's out there in the darkness?" I asked the Dryad, the being with such a deep connection to nature that I couldn't tell if it was merely a connection or if she was nature itself.

Alalia blinked. I could see out of the corner of my eye her purple eyes tinged with orange shifting away from my face for the first time since she had sat down, then looking in the same direction I was. A thunderbolt flared red at that moment, as if it felt the Dryad's gaze. The entire horizon turned crimson.

The first words out of her lips made me rethink how screwed this planet really was.

"I don't smell blood or rot."

... My fucking god!

("Ozma?! Jinn?!") I mentally shouted to the two of them.

("We're using your senses as a bridge to the outside world, Devas. We can feel what you feel. The smell is real, at least for you.") Jinn answered, speaking for both since Ozma remained silent.

Okay, it's real, at least for me. One of two things: either I'm going crazy and smelling things that don't exist—not a small possibility—or Alalia can't sense the smell of blood and rot for some reason.

Neither option pleased me.

"Are you sure? Because I'm certain I smelled it, and I'm still smelling blood and rot." I asked, drumming my fingers on the table—an action I noticed Alalia mimicking shortly after me. I could also hear her feet tapping rhythmically under the table.

"If it were a week ago, I'd say yes. It's very hard to hide from my senses, nearly impossible, or even outright impossible… But the impossible has been done. So, it's no longer impossible; it's just… improbable." She stared at the storm in the distance for a few more seconds before turning her face back to me. "I know something is wrong, but I don't know what. I can't sense anything in the darkness."

"What happened a week ago?" I asked, nodding as I diverted my gaze from the storm.

"I found out that insanity and madness don't stop something from feeling fear. That the stag in WinterHord created a small bubble, a little world, making everything outside hallucinate that it didn't exist." Her gaze lowered toward my shadow. She sniffed the air, just as I had done earlier. "Your shadow has the same scent as the echoes of energy I sensed in the ice and snow."

But the fucking smell of blood she can't detect!

"Did you come from the same place as the stag?" she suddenly asked. "The same world?"

I shook my head. "No. The Deerclops and I are from different worlds, of that I'm sure."

"But your shadow has the same energy as his… or at least echoes of it." Her thoughtful hum made the wind whirl around us.

The surroundings were dark. Night had fallen, and the moon was not yet visible in the sky, but it would be soon. Even so, her voice made the area feel brighter, warmer, like an afternoon in… summer. Fuck! Was that why she felt different from how she was in the game?

Actually, it made sense… She had a connection to nature. Using the four seasons wasn't surprising.

"Just like I have mana, the same energy all Terrarians have. Does that mean I was born in Terraria?"

"No. It doesn't mean that…" She seemed to wish it did; I could feel it in her voice. "It only means you can use various energies temporarily or find a way to generate them on your own. An impressive ability." The compliment seemed genuine.

The table fell silent after that. It didn't last long—three, maybe five seconds—before Alalia spoke again.

"I don't know what to say." That was the sentence. She placed her hands on the table and began lightly tapping the wood, fidgeting. I could hear her legs swinging and her feet tapping the floor.

"You said you had questions. Ask them."

"I do, but I don't know which one to choose!" Her voice rose slightly before she blinked and blushed, a soft red-and-orange hue coloring her cheeks. "Sorry, it's just… It's strange. I need to think about what to say. I have so many questions, but I don't know where to start."

She raised her right hand and pointed at me.

"You start! You said you had questions too. Ask them, I'll think while you do."

… This wasn't how I expected this conversation to go, not gonna lie. But it's better than having to run from her or, worse, fight Alalia.

That last one… would've been a disaster.

I didn't need to think much before asking; my main questions were already prepared long before I came here.

"The world… what does it think of my presence?" She seemed confused for a moment at the question, so I clarified: "The planet, what does it think of me? I'm not a native. As you said, I'm a Foreigner, an alien to this world. What does the planet's consciousness think of me?"

The dryad blinked before tilting her head to the side. "You know, I'm surprised you're aware the world is alive and has a consciousness," she murmured, not too quietly, before straightening her neck and continuing with a question of her own: "Do you think the world is antagonistic to your presence?"

"The body of the vast majority, if not all, living beings tries to expel any foreign body when it detects one. Why would the body of a Celestial Body be any different? I am an intruder, after all," I explained briefly.

There were cases where that didn't happen, for one reason or another: either because the 'foreign body' was something benign, so insignificant that expelling it wasn't worth the effort, or because the host body was too weak to do so. I wanted to know which case this was.

The answer to my question came in the form of a short, feminine, amused laugh.

"No, Devas, Terraria doesn't see you as an intruder. You've never harmed the world or even tried to. In fact, even before I discovered your existence, the world already didn't consider you an intruder, but rather a guest."

I should've been happy, and, in part, I was. Knowing the world didn't want to delete me was always good news, but finding out it considered me a guest even before Alalia knew of my existence, right after Jille?... I didn't know how to feel about that.

The stream was one thing; coming to Terraria, my favorite game, was another. But now the planet considered me a guest?... I closed my eyes for a second and sighed. I couldn't tell if it was a sigh of relief or something else entirely.

"Did the planet call me here, Alalia?" I asked after hesitating for a moment, and opened my eyes. The dryad didn't seem surprised by my question and shook her head in denial.

"No, there's no way. Terraria is… not weak, but debilitated, recovering. It's practically semi-dormant. If the world summoned something, someone, I'd know." She explained in a gentle tone before adding, "You didn't come here willingly... did you?"

For the third time in a row during that conversation, the answer began with the same word:

"No. I woke up in the forest near the kingdom, in a clearing. One moment I was taking an afternoon nap, the next there was grass under my body and my ceiling had turned into a sky." I lost myself in the memory for a moment, in a quick daydream, before blinking and refocusing. "No… I didn't come to Terraria willingly."

And to this day, I didn't know how to feel about that.

She nodded silently. Her vibrant green hair darkened to a shade of brown, growing slightly wavy, and her smile turned bitter, transforming into just a faint curve at the corner of her lips. Other than that, no further changes occurred, for reasons unknown to me.

"I feel cruel now." She looked at the wooden table.

"Why?"

"I don't think I should say."

"Then don't." I didn't press the issue, and Alalia seemed relieved by that.

I could imagine why she, in her own words, "felt cruel." She wanted something from me, enough to call me a "hero" in that letter she sent along with the fruits.

I didn't come to Terraria willingly, but she was happy about my presence here anyway. In a way, it was cruel. Not that I thought so, or even cared, but I chose to stay silent on the matter.

"When I was younger, I always loved the night," she spoke again after a few seconds, gazing at the dark horizon, obscured by both the night and the storm. "I still do: the serenity, the peace, the calm, the solitude, and all the beauty it brings… but less than I used to."

She didn't turn around when she asked: "Care to guess why?"

I followed her gaze. The forest surrounding the kingdom, far from the storm's reach, was beautiful. Even in the dark of night, the entire scene had a magical aura. I could even see small lights: some from campfires, others from fireflies, or perhaps even plants glowing in the dark.

I didn't like the dark, never did, but I could appreciate the calm of the night in a way, even if I didn't embrace it. The silence under the moonlight left room for all sorts of things to crawl in the darkness—not just physical ones… But not anymore. Never again…

"Because of the moon." I pointed upwards without looking. Alalia snorted, somewhere between amusement and surprise.

"Did I get it right?"

"Of course you did." She turned to me. "You can feel its presence too?..." Her voice trembled slightly. I wanted to think it was the cold, but I knew it was fear.

"Something like that. I've never been a fan of the night either," I offered a half-truth.

I knew about that 'thing' because of the game, of course, but I'd be lying if I said I couldn't feel the moon's presence watching the world. When night fell in Terraria, it was different from any other world I'd been to.

I felt it since my second night in Terraria, even more so now that my senses were far sharper. We had a roof over our heads, despite the balcony nearby, but even with the moon not yet high, I felt watched.

"You know, I…" She hesitated for a moment. "I have visions."

"Past, present, or future?" I asked without turning. I rested my elbow on the table and propped my chin on my palm, letting my gaze linger on the distant forest and the storm even farther away.

"The last one mostly, but I can see moments from the first and 'glimpse' almost all of the second."

"You wouldn't have brought this up if you hadn't seen something." I stared at the lightning for a moment longer before tilting my head in her direction. "What did you see? Something about the storm?"

"…Also. Something will attack the kingdom, on a red night; the skies will weep red, in blood, the ground floods..." Her voice took on an ethereal tone for a moment, and her eyes grew clouded before she shook her head firmly. "Something with a malevolent presence, but that's not what I want to discuss…"

Well, fuck it, it's the Blood Moon and the Eye together. What a nightmare. I should start planning Anti-Foreigner runes and anything else I could get my hands on.

"That seems pretty important for you to want to discuss something else," I pointed out.

"It is important, I know… But not as much. Thanks to the information you and DynDyn brought, we're much more prepared. I'm much more prepared." The dryad explained briefly.

Can she not move freely? Some sort of seal?

"What is it, then?" I asked.

"A fork in the road, further ahead than the red vision that should occur in a month or two. I'm not sure how long—years or decades—but it's etched in stone… It will happen…" Her voice gained a trembling tone, and she crossed her arms, gripping her biceps before slowly placing her hands on the table.

Her eyes grew hazy, clouded, even more than before. She was looking in my direction, but not at me, I was sure of that. Whatever she was seeing, whether a vision or a memory of one, it couldn't have been pleasant.

All the vegetation around seemed to wither and dry up. The living wood table turned brittle. Plants began to brown, flowers lost their petals, and stems bent into fragile arches.

The atmosphere grew cold—not the chill of winter, not wind or snow, but raw sorrow and despair, clinging to the air like sticky sap.

Curiously, Alalia's physical appearance didn't change. Her hair remained the same color, as did her skin tone and the leaves that made up her clothing. The surroundings mirrored her emotions, but she herself did not. Even her face stayed strangely neutral, unmoving...

...She had given up.

Then she blinked, looking at me, staring straight into my eyes. Purple, with hints of orange. I hated what I saw in them.

"In the best future, Terraria is saved. A hero arises—not you—and uses my body as a sacrifice to forge a sword capable of protecting the world." She didn't blink as she spoke. The anguish in her voice was almost tangible. She spat out the name: "Terra: the ultimate blade of the planet…"

I knew the name, obviously. The title was familiar too, but from somewhere else. I said nothing and stayed silent, letting her continue.

"In the worst, we lose. Nothing exists beyond a lifeless, desolate wasteland, faintly lit by the pale glow of moonlight…" Alalia seemed more like a tree than ever. She didn't breathe; only her lips moved. "In both, I die. I was fine with that—with the first one, I mean… Until you showed up."

Her hand rose slowly, fingers open toward me.

"To this day, I'm not sure if I saw it right. If these two futures I told you about are carved in stone, a one-in-two possibility destined to occur no matter what…" Her voice dropped to a fragile whisper. The wind barely stirred. "The third one I glimpsed when I first saw you, though, no…"

She didn't blink as she described it:

"Like a stray ray of sunlight in a dark forest, illuminating a thin, narrow escape route… You killed that thing."

I didn't have time to fully process her words as she went on. Her fragile voice gained a hint of strength.

"Your armor was in pieces, you were on your knees, barely conscious, body utterly exhausted, surrounded by dozens, maybe hundreds of weapons in varying degrees of damage or outright destruction. I didn't recognize any of them. None were the blade that haunts my nightmares…"

She blinked for the first time since she'd begun recounting her visions. The corners of her eyes grew wet. She seemed barely able to hold back tears.

"You know, I lied… I didn't have several questions, just one…" She smiled—something fragile and utterly desperate.

"…Could you save me?"

[...]

After speaking with Alalia for a few more minutes and asking for some clarifications, I headed—not literally, unfortunately—away from Oakwood Manor. Passing through the kingdom's gate, I picked up speed toward my clearing.

It was truly mine now. Dylan had apparently bought the land and handed me the deed shortly before I went to talk to the Dryad. I sincerely thanked the guy, though he said it was no big deal.

("So, what are we here to do?") Ozma's voice echoed in my mind. I realized I had forgotten to mention him and Jinn to Alalia. I'd fix that tomorrow…

He didn't ask about what Alalia and I discussed regarding the moon. I had already warned him, as soon as I left Oakwood Manor, that I wouldn't talk about it.

Some things were better left unsaid, and this was one of them. I trusted the stream, but I knew the protection I had was different from what the viewers had. Besides, I didn't want to discuss that crap.

"I'm going to check the stream dungeon. I want to beat Master Mode and then Story Mode," I explained briefly. "There's a lot to do, so I want to get it out of the way and finish the Proto-A Mystic Symbols and Runes."

I also needed to look into the girls' gift… And see if I could unlock everyone's Aura. I hadn't tried it with Millia and Lucy—though in Lucy's case, I wasn't even sure she actually had a soul—because I didn't want to risk it, just as I hadn't immediately done so with Dylan and the rest of the group.

First, I'd test it on some random slimes to see how it worked. Then, I'd ask Helena about death-row prisoners; there had to be some. If not, I'd hunt down one or two people who were better off dead than alive. I'd rather deform or destroy a rapist's soul than that of a friend.

I also needed to examine some people in the hospital to see if they were ill, had something dormant, or not… Plus, I had to inscribe Anti-Foreigner runes on everything I owned, including the kingdom's barrier, which likely didn't have runes yet.

"Damn, so much work…" I sighed, pulling the Slime Staff from my inventory, along with Lucy. The axe took a few seconds to wake up.

("Huh? Lucy's companion took me out of the box?! Can we chop trees?!") Those were her first words before noticing we weren't in Remnant anymore. ("The air here feels familiar. Are we home? Did friend Ruby come with us?!")

Before I could answer, a message appeared amid a whirlwind of rose petals:

[(MOD) RedHuntressLive]

I wanted to go! But unfortunately, I couldn't. Say hi to Lucy for me, Devas. And be careful in the dungeon!

(Pouting Red Riding Hood emote)

"I'll be careful, Ruby," I replied first before continuing, "We're back home, Lucy. Sorry for leaving you locked up so long," I said to the axe, dismissing Ruby's message with my left hand while placing Lucy on my back with my right. "And Ruby sends her regards."

("It's okay, I was sleeping!") She responded, trembling slightly on my back as if waving, then added cheerfully: ("Hi to you too, friend Ruby!")

"As for chopping trees, I need to do something first. After I'm done, we can spend a few minutes cutting wood. How does that sound?" I offered.

("Okey dokey lokey!")

I shook my head, amused, and grabbed the Slime Staff. I tapped it a few times. Millia wasn't just sleeping; I had asked her to return to the Slime Staff in case something went wrong with the teleportation.

She still hadn't come out as a precaution. The staff had a mechanism that adapted Millia to the environment she was in. This had happened when we arrived in Remnant, so I thought it best not to risk it and repeat the process on the way back.

A few seconds later, the Slime Staff glowed, and Millia appeared on my shoulder. She "looked" around briefly before forming a tiny hand and poking my cheek.

"It's different, indeed. I got used to Remnant's mana and didn't even realize how much I missed breathing the mana here at home. Is it like that for you too?" Her words formed quickly.

"That feeling of no longer breathing thin air?" Millia gave me a thumbs-up with her hand. "Yeah. Remnant's mana is much sparser and less dense."

It was much better than HOTD or Demon Slayer (Kimetsu no Yaiba), but it couldn't compare to Terraria. The only place that came close was inside the vaults, and even then, just barely.

I picked Millia up and placed her in my shirt pocket.

"I'm heading to the dungeon; that's why I woke you up." I had thought about letting her sleep, but she already knew about the dungeon. I'd mentioned it before, and Millia had asked me to call her when I planned to enter it again.

I hesitated. The chance of her father being in either Master Mode or Story Mode was high. It wasn't the fight itself that concerned me; my worry lay elsewhere: that he might be insane, corrupted, or something similar. Millia had told me her father and mother had gone off to fight, leaving her in the garden. If I was right and they'd faced that thing on the moon, the chances of the King Slime being mad were significant.

I truly hoped not. It wouldn't do her any good to see her father in that state.

Millia simply gave me another thumbs-up and settled into the pocket of my T-shirt. I pulled my phone out of the VoidBag and activated the dungeon, causing a floating screen to appear before me.

-//-

[Slime Dungeon]

Modes:

Classic Mode: Unlocked (100%) - Phantom Copy: Enabled!

Expert Mode: Unlocked (100%) - Phantom Copy: Enabled!

Master Mode: Unlocked.

Story Mode: Unlocked (WARNING!! HIGH DIFFICULTY - STREAM ONLY)

-//-

I already knew Phantom Copy was unlocked in Expert Mode, so that wasn't news. I also had the key to the Hanging Gardens, allowing me to return there at any time.

What intrigued me was that the high-difficulty warning was still present, even after all this time. I was much stronger since the last time I entered the dungeon. This meant the warning was either a standard message or that, even with my current power and strength, the stream deemed it worth alerting me.

Well, it didn't matter now. Today, my focus was on Master Mode, not Story Mode.

With a touch, the dungeon portal appeared in the middle of the clearing. Just as I was about to ask Millia to return to the Slime Staff, for her safety, and prepare the Remnant of the Deerclops to enter the dungeon, some stream messages popped up in front of me:

[The living item "Lucy" has been added to the party of "The Streamer."]

[The living being "Mil'li'a-io Kr'yo 'Li'ja Jou-sk" has been added to the party of "The Streamer."]

[The living item "Relic of Knowledge: Jinn" has been added to the party of "The Streamer."]

[The soul "Ozma" has been added to the party of "The Streamer."]

It took me no more than a few seconds to process the information. The first thing I noticed was that neither Salem nor any of my Nightmares were included in the party. If I had to guess, it was because they were considered extensions of me, not separate entities.

My Nightmares were part of my nightmare energy. Salem, on the other hand, had become an element of my Spiritual Realm after everything that had happened. Ozma was there with them, as was Jinn, but while those two were merely guests, the rest were residents.

The second thing I noticed was the appearance of four icons on the minimap, all next to me: a small golden lamp, a red axe, a staff, and a cute slime face. Jinn, Lucy, Ozma, and Millia.

"I need to check if this happens with the others…" I murmured. The Hanging Gardens would be a good base if necessary. If I could bring everyone inside, I'd do so without hesitation. "Has anything changed inside, Jinn, Ozma?"

("Nothing I can identify. I don't feel any difference.") Ozma's voice answered after a brief pause.

("I agree. Our connection remains unchanged.") Jinn added.

Millia and Lucy's responses were essentially the same. Neither of them noticed any changes. Likely, this was something exclusive to the stream and had no "real" effects.

With that settled, I equipped my armor and Angel Graves. Millia didn't budge, settling into the small inner pocket I'd designed for her. I hadn't intended to fight with her there, but I ended up making the pocket for her anyway.

With the Ice Blade in hand, I stepped toward the portal. The kaleidoscope of colors consumed my vision for a few moments before disappearing, along with the clearing, giving way to what could only be described as the entrance to an imposing castle — the main gate, open and partially destroyed.

A slight poke at my chest caught my attention. I glanced down, finding Millia's words forming in trembling letters:

"This is Dad's castle… My home…"

I frowned at the information and scanned my surroundings. The castle was surrounded by a forest—or what should have been one. Everything was burned, with precise, circular holes in the ground the size of oranges. The smell of burning was nearly imperceptible, as if the fire had been extinguished a long, long time ago.

The castle walls were equally damaged, marked by holes despite the Mystic Symbols and Runes protecting every visible brick. The place had been struck by something—a military force—and I had a guess. Judging by the burn marks and the holes that resembled bullet strikes… Vortex.

The Solar had attacked the Ice Queen's realm. Vortex, the realm of the King Slime…

"…Is Dad inside?" Millia poked my chest again.

"No, he's not. Don't worry," I replied softly, giving the little slime a light pat on top of her body.

There was only one red dot on the minimap, near the center of the castle, unmoving. And it wasn't a boss marker. If it were the King Slime, the stream would have already alerted me.

"If I tell you to return to the Slime Staff, do so immediately, understood, Millia?" I asked. The little slime nodded. With her confirmation, I began advancing.

I kept my guard up, Shadowflame ready at the slightest mental command, as well as the VoidBag. My shadow writhed slightly, my Nightmares waiting for any sign of hostility. Even Jinn and Ozma were on alert, prepared to intervene however they could.

I passed through the half-open gates without touching them, entering what I could only call the front garden. I walked along the path in the middle of the garden, observing the surroundings. Broken statues, dried fountains, everything burned or destroyed in some way, marked with holes I was sure came from lasers.

The castle's interior wasn't much different. The architecture was slightly distinct from what I expected, having seen the insides of castles in photos and knowing Beacon, which had been a castle before Ozma turned it into a school.

The doors were tall and circular, as was the ceiling. Many were missing, torn off or hanging by their hinges. Some walls, likely once light-colored, perhaps blue or white, were now blackened, with only a few parts near the ceiling untouched.

Few paintings had survived, and not all depicted slimes. Some portrayed landscapes. I didn't find any paintings of Fae, Terrarians, or Goblins along my path; perhaps some existed, but they were among those burned and destroyed.

I followed the most obvious route toward the castle's center, stepping over the remnants of a once-red carpet. The place was deathly silent—including me. I made no noise with my steps, nor did the air stir with my movements. Shadowflame handled the former; my magic, the latter.

There were no bodies. No Terrarians, Fae, slimes, or the invaders who had assaulted the place. Not even the VoidBag picked up any sign of what I'd expected to be corpses, only debris. The location was completely empty, reduced to ruins, devoid of any life…

The still dust and ashes on the furniture hinted at how long everything had been abandoned. An Analyze: Item cast on a random statue in the hallway didn't reveal much, but the words "untouched for millennia" confirmed that the castle hadn't received visitors in a very, very long time.

When I finally reached the castle's center, I immediately recognized where I was: the throne room. The doors were completely gone, allowing me to see the two large thrones even before stepping through the entrance.

The first throne, larger and about five meters tall, had a circular shape. Its color was sky blue, adorned with golden details and a large red gemstone at the top of the backrest—a massive rectangular ruby.

The second throne, smaller at around three meters, was a soft pink with shades of lilac and silver. Unlike the first, which seemed entirely metallic and unpadded, this one was cushioned with pillows. Like its counterpart, it also had a gemstone at the top of its backrest, a heart-shaped amethyst.

The moment my eyes landed on the thrones, something felt off. The unsettling sensation became clear seconds later: the two thrones were intact. From base to top, not a single scratch marred them, while everything else around, just like all I'd seen along the way, was destroyed and burned.

My gaze then found the bronze armor kneeling before the thrones. It faced away from the entrance, weathered by time, rusted, with broken parts and visible punctures. The red dot on the minimap hovered exactly over it.

I had no doubt: that armor, whatever it was, was responsible for preserving the thrones. It had probably also dealt with the invaders who had devastated the castle.

The moment I set my first foot inside the throne room, the armor moved. A metallic, rusted sound echoed, as if plates of metal were scraping against each other. Something inside it shifted as well—a semi-translucent mass of vibrant pink, contrasting sharply with the corroded and partially melted metal encasing it.

If it had been any other situation, I would have bombarded the armor before it even moved. In fact, I probably would have destroyed the entire castle from afar without even approaching. But Millia was with me. The little slime had been trembling since we started exploring this place, and when we reached the throne room, her shaky, nearly illegible written words stopped me in my tracks.

"I know him… It's my uncle…"

Almost as if it had been waiting for Millia to finish, the bronze armor slowly turned to face me. Its design resembled Greco-Roman armor, covered with faded mystical symbols and runes that glowed faintly amidst the metal. Though I called it bronze, I was certain it was something far more durable, even corroded by battle and time.

The armor was small, no taller than 1.6 meters. It held a short sword in its right hand—a xiphos. The blade was broken, as was part of the guard, and the hilt seemed fused with the armor, melted and misshapen.

On its left arm, there was a shield haphazardly attached, as though it had been welded to the metal. The shield was darker than the rest of the armor, scorched repeatedly to the point that the design at its center was unrecognizable.

The helmet tilted slowly to one side in an almost unsettling manner before snapping upright with a sharp motion. There were no eye slits in the helmet, and if there had ever been, they were obliterated now. The front was a grotesque spiral of melted, blackened, and deformed metal. Yet, I could feel that thing staring directly at me.

Then, two things happened at once.

The first was a scream—not a human scream, but something utterly insane, hoarse, and metallic. It was as though the armor itself were screaming, not whatever was inside it. The high-pitched sound oscillated erratically, harsh and piercing, reverberating throughout the room and shaking the walls.

"₣ØⱤɆł₲₦ɆⱤ!"

The second was the message that appeared before me:

[The General: Pink - has Arrived!]

[...]---[...]

Alalia is strong, like, ridiculously strong... But not mentally. No spoilers.

The conversation is finally over, we're back to the action and back to the dungeon! The enemy is something that was mentioned in WinterHord, the general. Surprise, it was Pink! I came up with this idea a long time ago, and I'm happy to finally put it in the story.

Good Night everyone, and happy reading!