"Oleg, what's your world like?" John asked, as him and Sweet Bell came closer towards him startling him by the sudden question well he had been staring at a collection of oddly‑shaped knives. some whose blades looped around themselves as if trying to cut the hand that held them, others that folded into themselves so many times they looked unusable. The inquiry pulled his thoughts away from the metal and into the present moment as he looked at John.
"Hmm, well that is a rather hard question to answer disguised as a simple one," Oleg said, his voice softening as he fell into thought. "Not long ago, well in proportion to my race at the very least my world was… mostly peaceful. Humans were the dominant, sentient race and we lived in a sort of uneasy routine. We struggled with poverty, famine and the rumblings of wars that never quite seen on the surface but we could all see it had already begun between all the races against one another along with infighting. Magic? We never saw it openly, only in whispers or kept hidden away deep within their respective race's capitals, I heard you could even see it in the various gods temples. I always felt it lingered in the shadows around us and in the air though but nothing concrete to ever proved its existence to me personally back then. Even our technology seemed to hit a peak at the time; inventions slowed and nothing new seemed to ever be created anymore, not to say people didn't try, it was just that there was no longer the same drive or interest in it."
He paused, as if the memory of better days weighed heavily on his shoulders.
"Then everything violently changed."
"The 'gods' came," Oleg continued, his eyes flickering to the strange knives on the shelf. "They bestowed classes upon us, powers that felt like gifts but turned out to be curses. People twisted into monsters or went mad from the very abilities meant to lift them up. Humanity's true nature burst through, seemingly no longer having morals and restraints and it wasn't just them, all the races changed as the world seemed to crack open in a literal sense, our own gods seemingly trying to fight these invaders who had changed their world."
He swallowed, his breath shallow. "A friend of mine, after many years and with the help of our native gods managed to slipped into the inner circle of those outsider 'gods.' He told me the truth of there actions: this whole existence was nothing but a stage for them. They harvest our resources for their entertainment and use elsewhere, to entertain others and when the show ends everything would be wiped clean and reset somehow. We learnt how there was layers to the world brought about by them, different levels of reality that depend on the classes people choose and how much amusement they provide the gods, some even being 'spared' the reset if they proved they could be entertaining in other realms or be willing to fight for them."
"I want to bring it all down, they recently did the same to my own world, well over two years now at this point, even had a conflict with an aspect of those 'gods' which cost me this arm of mine." John whispered, his voice tight, "but even so I haven't even taken a foothold in their realm or in my own for that matter. I've already lost two of my closest companions. One vanished to gods knows where because of someone's reckless actions of others. The other… she's gone now, by my own hand to end her pain brought about by my own actions, it's a story I might speak of another time..."
A large, warm hand patted John's back and a pair of smaller hands squeezed his temple in a gentle, almost motherly gesture. "Sounds like you're in a living hell big human friend," Sweet Bell said, a bright-eyed yet sad smile playing on her lips carrying hints of understanding to it. "My world, unlike the big, soft-hearted lug over here ran on magic, but we also have a thread of technology. We relied on both and we respect the other races despite the wars that scar our history having created a rather strange, at least to outsiders, symbiosis type of peace, each race would provide and help the other by supplying what they need but didn't have in their own territories."
The trio continued meandering through the cramped shop, its aisles cluttered with curiosities. Oleg lingered over a massive, tree‑like club, his fingers tracing the bark‑like patterns etched into the wood as if judging if it was worth the price or not. Beside it lay a box of six gems, each a different hue, glowing faintly as if holding secrets all their own.
"These strange people came one day," Sweet recalled, her eyes narrowing. "We were weary at first, clearly unsure of what to make of these people showing up in various cities with offers of power and a way to new worlds. Travel between worlds isn't new for us, I actually met the big oaf on one of those trips before these strangers showed up but some of the people who took the offer ended up vanishing and when we asked the strangers about it, they simply smiled and offered to take us to them. Their disappearance made many of us wary and we eventually threatened them to try and make them leave, all they did was give us a wide smile, thank us for allowing them to have a bridge point and left without issues but it was… unsettling."
Oleg turned to John, his expression turning serious as if a thought had struck him. "You mentioned a pain in your head, has it begun since arriving here?" At seeing John nod, he began to frown slightly. "I have something that might help us see what's causing it as such a thing shouldn't be happening here but I have a thought on what the cause may be." He gestured toward a tall, full‑length mirror propped against the far wall. Its surface shimmered with a silver sheen, while the frame—deep obsidian black—was carved with intricate runes. A faint pressure seemed to emanate from it, like a very subtle pulse.
"Stand in front of it," Oleg instructed. "Then focus on the spot where the pain spikes. This is a soul mirror; it shows not just your reflection, but the state of your spirit. I have a more powerful one at home that gives far better details to help me make sure spirits and curses don't stick and to help deal with that, but this should do for now for you my little human friend. If it seems we need a better one I'll get it and give it away to someone who needs it when were done so don't worry."
John hesitated. He didn't fully understand why he should trust two strangers who didn't even know his name, yet even till now they had shown no hostility, the bigger of the pair even seemingly going through the same as what he was and so far their demeanor was genuinely caring, he knew there was no doubt something they wanted but up till this point they hadn't done anything towards him, he didn't want to be trusting anymore, especially after all he had been through but his gut was urging him to trust this pair, that they might prove themselves helpful in the future and they were offering him benefits that would no doubt be useful. So with a deep breath he stepped in front of the mirror and tried to focus on the needle like pain that had formed and been growing steadily since arriving here.
At first, John saw his own muscled figure before it slowly morphed into his larger, tubby form that he hoped to one day regain along with a few of the others in his head standing behind him, easily noticing Lesh and Yami along with Braedon. Then the image warped further, flashing briefly to a pair of bright yellow eyes before showing a massive, hulking form of himself filled with nothing but muscles and a nasty smile, it was a version of himself he imagined could never be and hoped to never exist, it was then that he noticed something looming behind this reflection. Two claw‑like fingers dug into his temples, the creature's head a shattered ring of blackened metal with an inky void in the center. It was a twisted form of the Keeper, the first entity he had ever faced since the worlds change, a being he believed he had destroyed.
"How, how are you still here?" John's voice cracked as he stared at it, instinctively gripping his dead arm. "You were destroyed! I saw your soul break; my friends had to bind themselves and their souls to me just to mend the damage you caused. You shouldn't still exist…"
Before he could finish, Oleg's massive hand pressed firmly against his back in an attempt to help ground him. Sweet Bell's palms were glowing an eerie green as well before reaching slowly into the space where the reflected Keeper's fingers pierced the hulking John's skull. With a swift motion, he saw her pull them free from the twisted version of himself, the Keeper's tendrils recoiled as it emitted a guttural scream that rattled the mirrors frame.
The sound was bone‑deep, a howl of rage. Oleg's eyes blazed with anger as Sweet Bell gave the Keeper another desperate yank. The creature's form, now reduced to a trembling, misshapen mass in the mirror, its grip entirely off now and dissolving into the air as Sweet Bell finished what she was doing, now holding a weird diamond shaped gem in her hands.
"That would explain the pain," Oleg said, breathing heavily. "Since your encounter with this thing you called the 'Keeper' have you felt anything else off besides random pains? Like you weren't yourself? Had anything else happened?" His gaze seemed to sweep over to the tattoo mark on his hand, no one else seemed to pay attention to it but his hand was entirely blurred, a strange red, creeping vine being the only thing visible within the blur.
John's shoulders slumped as he tried to collect his thoughts. "I hesitated to join a fight because it was against other humans. That's, that's when my friend was hurt, the enemies turned into these horrid monsters and only after she had been hurt did actually take action. I told myself they weren't human anymore as a justification to fight, so I wouldn't feel guilty about taking a life but those thoughts, my lack of action cost me my friend and caused me to have to take her life to end her pain, there was no way to undo what had been done…" Taking a deep breath, fist clenched he slowly continued. "After the battle, in which the defense group took to long to come to I confronted them and it led to them turning on me. They said I wasn't a good leader, that they'd take my camp and made threats of blackmail and intimidation. In anger, I traded them away instead of punishing them to insure they wouldn't be able to bring harm to my camp. When I found out what happened to my friend, I killed the person responsible for it slowly, ripping him apart and then torturing him to death, I then looked for a way to heal my friend but when I found out there was no way to undo what had been done, I chose to end her suffering and put her to rest. On the way home, I had begun to realize if my kindness and softness cost me those important and close to me then I needed to become a monster, to kill my emotions and become a real villain, I spoke with a group who had good intentions but at the end of it I saw clearly that it was all hollow words, called a hypocrite for my actions so I left once I could, when I encountered a group of thieves trying to rob me I had almost no issues with killing them, only barely holding back as I instead crippled a few of them, removing limbs regardless of them being human, I told myself I was at my limit, that it was okay because I didn't actually kill them, only mutilated and harmed them rather than taking there lives."
He stared at the floor, realizing the cold logic that had guided his actions. "Before the Keeper, I had only killed one person and it bothered me, for the group who back stabbed me I would normally disable them or exile them regardless of what the consequences may be. So why did I trade them then? I could have just had them locked up… Why did I let my rage run so wild?"
Sweet Bell's eyes softened. "Your words sound like something that fed off you and was twisting your actions if it was truly such a big change. I think the Keeper thing, before it was destroyed placed a seed of himself into you. It tried to infiltrate your mind, no doubt, after taking root and possibly having you come here might have tried using the mental pain to steer you towards somewhere in this mall, toward a spot where it could possibly swap with you and take full control. I've seen those desperate to escape death do things like this before, often using their victim's soul damage as a way to hide their curse and escape notice."
She pulled out a small flower from her dress before plucking a tiny stone from the flower head pressing it to the gem that had formed previously. The stone grew, swallowing the diamond with a flash of light, swelling larger than she was before once more shrinking, becoming the size of a fist, pulsing with captured energy. Oleg lightly took it with reverent hands, a mix of anger and surprise playing across his face as he stared at it.
"May I keep this?" Oleg asked, his voice low. "Things that can corrupt others are rare and they make excellent crafting components. I don't expect it for free though."
He reached into his pocket and produced a thin, metal plate, its surface etched with a faint sigil. The plate looked far more familiar to John, resembling the one that was liberated from the Jester than the one he had shown him previously.
"This is a basic pass to the Mall that I am able to give out!" Oleg explained, his eyes shining with excitement. "It lets you return here once a week and the trip won't be random like today. You'll appear at the last spot you left from and allows you to bring one of the malls special time‑space storage bags with you without consequence, letting you bring things to the mall or to your own realm, it also allows you to use and purchase special tags if you want to move people or very large objects between your reality and this place."
John laughed, surprised. "I already have something like this. I didn't know what it was or how to use it or that it would permit those benefits."
Sweet Bell giggled, enjoying the expression of surprise and curiosity that formed on her large friend's face, a rarity she always enjoyed.
"Uh, well It works like this," Oleg said, sliding the plate back into his pocket. "You hold it well starting to project, leaving your physical form as you focus on this place and you'll pop up at the Mall's entrance right where you last stepped out. But you should be careful, these basic passes don't bind to a single person. If someone else takes yours, they can come and go at will and you could lose your way back. Needing to rely on luck to try and come back here if that happens."
He paused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "What else can I give you though for this amazing gift?" He rummaged through his coat, produced a small, hand‑sized bag that looked like a delicate handkerchief folded neatly in his large palm. The fabric shimmered faintly, as if woven from threads of moonlight.
John's eyes widened, feeling he knew what that was after the explanation about the pass, Oleg would probably be taking something from the bag for him which had a rather high value or exist only in his world, but even so he couldn't help but ask. "What is that?"
"A pocket of bound space, better than the space-time bags that you would find for purchase here, or rather about three? Maybe four positions up from the basic bags." Oleg replied, his voice carrying the clear amusement he felt at Johns reaction. "It can hold a large range of items without adding weight and it can even hold a small creature for a short time. Think of it as a portable pocket dimension. It should be useful for you if you really want to make an impact in your own world. Currently there's just my pocket change in there along with some tags I had mentioned, a few gems and some basic weapons I have absolutely no use for, there not scrap though! Just too small for me"
John took the bag, feeling its soft weight against his palm before glancing at Sweet Bell who shook her head exasperatingly, urging him to just take it and telling him how his always doing things like this but reassuring him the bag was a quality item and that the contents should be a great help.
"Thank you," he said, his voice steadier than it had been moments before. "For the mirror and helping remove that thing, the explanation about the pass, for listening and for this..."
Oleg nodded, his massive shoulders relaxing as he pressed a large hand onto his back, his eyes though darting occasionally towards his marked hand. "We're all trying to survive the whims of those 'gods' well trying to strike back at them and reclaim all that they took, If we can help each other, maybe we'll find a way to turn the tables or one day be able to help one another out in toppling them from there ivory thrones, ensuring they can no longer do this to other worlds."
The three of them stood amid the shop, the strange knives, glittering gems and range of other exotic goods now mere background to a new alliance forming between them.
John felt a strange mixture of dread and hope rise within him, realizing his choice to trust them was the correct one. Understanding the pass to the mall opened up a whole new avenue of possibilities and the pocket‑space bag he had been given? He now possessed tools he never imagined he'd need or thought could exist. More importantly, he had found tentative new companions who, despite their differences seemed to understand the weight of a broken world and the repercussions of the gods' actions.
Well focused on Oleg, Sweet Bell slipped a single, luminous petal into John's hand. "For luck," she whispered, though her eyes held a steadier fire than the word suggested as she urged him to put it in his new bag.
Oleg clapped John on the back giving a small laugh and a smile before seeming to drag him through the shelves. "Something you should remember about this place my little human friend, is that the Mall is a crossroads so you'll meet others here, some of them will be friendly, some… not. Use the pass wisely and don't be tricked by people promising sugar and instead giving you salt."
John nodded as he tucked the small back into his cloak pocket.
"Hmm, little human friend!" Oleg's voice broke their faint silence they had fallen into as they walked through the shelves, rummaging in his pocket before extended a large, calloused hand towards him, a worn and weathered leather satchel resting in his palm. "This is one of those bags I told you about, well the one I gave you could serve the same purpose this should help draw less attention. It's a bit too small for me and my suits have pockets that do the same thing anyway so you can have this to help avoid drawing unwanted scammers, I left some spirit stones, magic stones, beast cores and I think 300 coins in that one, along with 19 reusable tags. It from when I was a small goblin not even half your size, trying to survive in a big world and found myself here soon after the worlds changes."
A wave of nostalgia seemed to wash over him, his smile softening as he stared off into the middle distance as his mind was clearly replaying forgotten moments from a distant past. John, looking at his sheer bulk honestly couldn't begin to imagine him ever being a small, scrawny goblin. The image was so funny to even imagine it almost made him chuckle, but he wisely kept silent, choosing instead to offer a grateful nod as he reached for the offered bag, accepting the unexpected generosity of his new companion.
Sweet Bell, however, perched once more on John's shoulder, seemed to have somehow read his unspoken thoughts as she let out a series of soft giggle escaped her lips, a sound like tiny, crystalline bells chiming in a breeze. She sent John a knowing smile before fluttering off his shoulder in a blur, only to return a moment later. Her bright eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, now held a glint of purpose. "Follow me, both of you," she chirped, her voice taking on an uncharacteristic seriousness.
She seemed to lead them through an aisle lined with an assortment of intriguing, somewhat menacing figures. "I'm a pretty good judge of people," she declared confidently, "knowing what they need even if they themselves don't. You mentioned trading away your defenders not long ago right? That sounded to me like you needed some new ones and that made me remember these guys that we passed earlier." Her gaze swept over two distinct groups of automatons. "So, Oleg will get you them and then we'll pay a visit to the slave market so you have some actual people to fill your camp and help with your foundations, since you said you're worried about the others leaving from your choice."
She gestured with a delicate wing towards a group of 15 armored statues, each crafted from gleaming, dark metal, depicting a variety of humanoid race clearly meant to be warriors. Beside them stood 10 clockwork robots, intricate creations of polished brass and whirring gears, their multi-jointed limbs and optical lenses giving them a distinctly mechanical, yet intelligent look.
"They aren't individually that strong," Sweet Bell explained, hovering between the two groups, "and would probably fall to the actually strong enemies or numbers if there on their own. But if they're together like this, they can cover each other's weaknesses and would form a decent defensive melee force." Her voice grew more excited, her wings beating a rapid rhythm. "Adding in a few battlecast or war slaves and you should have a genuinely decent defensive line! A reliable screen for any adventuring party with these guys being up front!"
Oleg's eyes lit up, mirroring her enthusiasm before nodding, his massive head bobbing like a boulder in a gentle current, a rumble of agreement vibrating in his chest. "Perfect! This is how I can pay you back in full, my little friend! For accompanying us and for this amazing ingredient." he exclaimed, his earlier nostalgia replaced with excitement. "Let's go to the counter and buy these for you to take, you can store them in the bag I gave you and then I'll get you fifteen slaves of your choice! It's absolutely perfect!"
John however felt an immediate, icy dread solidify in his gut. The concept of owning slaves, even "battlecast" or "war" ones, didn't seem to sit right with him at all, it felt hypocritical to free those in his own world only to take slaves from others. It felt like a violation of his morals regardless of the pairs good natured intentions and generous offer. His smile faltered, replaced by a subtle, almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw. The shift in his demeanor, as slight as it was, wasn't missed by Sweet Bell, whose bright eyes immediately narrowed before a flicker of understanding passed through them. The air, which had been buzzing with their combined excitement, suddenly grew thick with unspoken apprehension.