We leave the oasis before the sun has fully risen, when the sky is still washed in pale oranges and muted blues. The water behind us glimmers faintly, already beginning to feel unreal, like something I dreamed rather than experienced. With every step away from it, the air grows drier, heavier, as if the world itself is reminding us that rest is never permanent here.
The desert does not follow us far.
Sand gradually gives way to packed earth beneath our boots. Sparse tufts of grass cling stubbornly to the ground, then shrubs appear, their leaves thick and waxy. Before long, towering trees rise around us, their trunks massive and ancient, roots twisting above the soil like the bones of something long buried.
The jungle closes in.
Humidity presses against my skin almost immediately, warm and suffocating. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth, rotting leaves, and sweet, unfamiliar flora. Insects chirp and buzz relentlessly, their sound layered with distant calls and sudden rustling from the undergrowth. Sunlight struggles to reach the forest floor, filtering down in fractured beams that shift constantly as the canopy sways overhead.
It feels like we are being watched.
My body protests with every step. Bruises bloom beneath my clothes, muscles aching from the days before. My knuckles still throb faintly, and my ribs flare with pain whenever I breathe too deeply. Even walking here feels harder, as though the jungle itself resists us.
Tricky moves ahead of me, alert and focused. Her wings are tightly wrapped in fresh bandages, dark feathers peeking through like shadows. She tries to hide it, but I can tell she is still hurting. Her movements are careful now, precise but restrained in a way they were not before.
We do not talk much.
The jungle does not feel like a place that welcomes noise.
The first scream shatters the silence without warning.
Something bursts from the undergrowth to my right, a blur of motion and snapping teeth. I barely have time to react before instinct takes over. I twist aside, feeling claws rake the air where my chest had been moments earlier.
My heart slams violently against my ribs.
The creature crashes into a tree trunk, then scrambles upright with a distorted shriek. Its body is wrong. Limbs bent at unnatural angles. Skin stretched tight over warped muscle. Eyes glowing faintly in the shadows.
A hater.
It lunges again.
I step forward instead of back, driving my forearm into its chest. The impact rattles my bones, pain shooting up my arm, but it staggers. I follow with a strike to its jaw, feeling something crack beneath my knuckles.
Pain flares sharply.
The creature does not fall.
Another shriek answers from deeper in the jungle.
Then another.
They begin to emerge from the foliage around us, slipping between vines and roots like living shadows. My breathing grows shallow. There is no open ground here. No room to maneuver. Roots snag my boots. Branches scrape my face.
I dodge a swipe too late and feel claws rake across my side. Heat blooms beneath my ribs as blood soaks into my shirt.
"Astro!" Tricky shouts.
She raises a hand and releases magic on instinct.
Purple and black fire spirals outward, roaring through the jungle. The heat slams into my back, scorching my skin and forcing the breath from my lungs. Leaves curl instantly. Vines ignite. The haters scream as flames consume them.
"Tricky, stop!" I shout, shielding my face. "You will burn the whole jungle!"
For a terrifying moment, the fire continues to spread.
Then it vanishes.
The sudden absence leaves my skin tingling painfully. Smoke hangs thick in the air, stinging my eyes and throat. Tricky lowers her hand slowly, horror flickering across her face.
"I did not think," she says tightly. "I am sorry."
There is no time to answer.
More haters surge forward, drawn by the noise, the fire, the scent of blood. My legs tremble as I move again, slower now. Every strike costs me breath. Every dodge is delayed by exhaustion.
One slams into me from behind.
We crash to the ground together, the impact knocking the air from my lungs. Panic surges as the creature scrambles atop me, its weight crushing my chest. I shove blindly, muscles screaming, my elbow slamming into something soft. It shrieks and loosens its grip just enough for me to roll free.
I stagger upright, vision swimming, blood dripping down my side.
Another lunges. I barely duck, feeling claws graze my hair. I strike back clumsily, driven by desperation rather than skill.
Tricky's magic changes.
The ground trembles as spectral hands claw their way up from the soil, pale and twisted. They seize legs and torsos, dragging screaming haters beneath the earth. The jungle floor churns violently, swallowing them whole.
The fight does not end quickly.
Minutes stretch into hours.
We advance inch by inch, battered and exhausted. I stumble more than once. At one point my knee buckles and I nearly fall. Tricky catches me by the arm, hauling me upright before releasing me to keep fighting. Her breathing grows labored. Sweat darkens her bandages.
When the jungle finally falls silent, I can barely remain standing.
That is when we see it.
The temple rises from the greenery like a forgotten god, stone walls swallowed by moss and vines. Massive carvings cover its surface, worn smooth by time yet still vivid enough to tell stories.
I step closer despite the pain screaming through my body.
Figures carved into the stone kneel before something towering and abstract. Offerings lie at its feet. Food. Gold. Lives. Their faces are frozen in devotion and fear.
"What do you see?" Tricky asks quietly.
"A god," I answer. "Or something they believed was one."
The descent beneath the temple feels wrong.
The elevator grinds downward, stone scraping stone, the air growing cooler with every second. When the doors open again, the pain fades beneath something else entirely.
Awe.
We do not make it far into the city.
The moment we step off the elevator platform, I feel it. Eyes on us. Conversations falter. Footsteps slow. The flow of the crowd bends subtly around us, like water meeting an obstacle.
Then the guards move.
They fan out with practiced precision, boots striking stone in unison. Their armor gleams faintly in the bioluminescent light, plates etched with unfamiliar insignias. Spears and swords lower just enough to make a point.
"Halt," one of them commands.
His voice is calm, but there is no room for argument in it.
Tricky stops instantly. I follow half a step later, my heart thudding. The guards are close enough now that I can hear the faint creak of leather and metal as they shift their weight.
"This section of the city is restricted," another guard says, circling slightly to our left. "State your names and lineage."
Tricky steps forward, her posture straight despite the fatigue still clinging to her. "We are travelers," she says evenly. "We mean no harm."
The first guard's eyes narrow. "That was not the question."
He gestures subtly toward me. "Neither of you bears the markings."
"Markings?" I ask before I can stop myself.
Several guards turn their attention fully to me now.
"The marks of origin," one says coldly. "Cat or dog. Fur, ears, tail, scent. You have none."
A murmur ripples through the nearby crowd.
Tricky's wings twitch, feathers rustling beneath their bandages. "We entered through an ancient temple," she says carefully. "An elevator beneath the jungle."
The guards stiffen.
One of them lets out a short, humorless laugh. "Impossible."
"Those temples have been sealed for generations," another snaps. "They do not respond to outsiders."
"And yet," Tricky replies, her voice steady, "here we are."
The first guard steps closer to me, close enough that I can see my own reflection warped across his helmet.
"You," he says. "You are human. Surface born."
I swallow. "Yes."
His hand drops to the hilt of his sword.
"How did you activate a system keyed only to demi-human bloodlines?"
"I don't know," I answer honestly. "We didn't even know what it was."
"That is not an answer," he growls.
Tension coils tight around us. I feel it like a physical pressure against my chest. Tricky shifts her stance subtly, not aggressive, but ready. I know that if this turns violent, it will be ugly. Fast. And devastating.
Another guard speaks, older by the sound of his voice. "Search them."
Two step forward.
Before they can touch us, the air changes.
Not with force.
With presence.
The crowd parts without instruction. Conversations die instantly. Even the guards straighten, shoulders snapping back, movements precise and rigid.
A sleek black limousine glides silently to a stop beside the street.
The door opens.
She steps out.
The light catches her first. Purple hair, rich and vivid against the glow of the city. Her clothing is casual yet unmistakably intentional, stylish in a way that suggests absolute confidence. When she lifts her sunglasses slightly, her eyes gleam with sharp curiosity.
Every guard bows.
Deeply.
I feel it then. An aura. Not magical, not overt, but commanding in a way that makes resistance feel foolish.
"Explain," she says calmly.
The first guard immediately steps forward, head lowered. "Lady Okayu. These two appeared via an ancient elevator system. Neither possesses cat nor dog lineage."
Her gaze flicks to us.
I freeze.
No.
There is no way.
She studies us slowly, deliberately, as if peeling back layers. When her eyes meet mine, something like recognition flickers. Or amusement.
"An ancient temple," she repeats softly. "Activated by outsiders."
She hums, thoughtful.
"That's new."
The guards exchange uneasy glances.
"Lady Okayu," one begins cautiously, "protocol dictates that—"
She raises a single finger.
He stops mid-sentence.
"I am aware of protocol," she says pleasantly. "I am also aware when protocol is outdated."
She steps closer to us now. I feel my heartbeat in my ears.
"And you are?" she asks.
I hesitate, then answer. "Astro."
Something in her expression shifts. Just slightly.
She smiles.
"Well," she says, straightening, "this just became interesting."
She turns back to the guards. "I will take responsibility for them."
There is a pause.
"But—" one guard begins.
"That was not a request," she says, still smiling.
The guards bow again, deeper this time.
"As you command, Lady Okayu."
Only when the tension finally eases does my brain catch up.
The name.
The voice.
The presence.
It slams into me all at once.
Nekomata Okayu.
From my world.
A VTuber. An idol. Someone I watched on a screen.
Standing here.
Real.
After we told our story, Okayu's eyes gleam with mirth. "Seems like fate does have a funny way of bringing people together. Listen, I have a hotel here in town. You can stay there for the night. In turn, I might need a favor from you tomorrow."
Tricky and I looked at each other, tacitly nodding at our acceptance. We say yes to Okayu's terms with just a nod.
"Thank you, Okayu," I reply with gratitude. "We will be glad to help in whatever ways possible."
Okayu smiles-an expression reassuring and mysterious all at the same time. "Good. Now, let's get you settled in."
As the limousine slides through town toward Okayu's hotel, I almost feel a wave of relief wash over me.
The sleek limousine winds its way through the packed streets of Luminaria, this underground city teeming with life and vigor. As we thread our way through the stream of traffic, I cannot help but ogle at the towering skyscrapers and the myriads of demi-humans going about their daily lives. Finally, the limousine pulls up in front of this super magnificent hotel, whose façade is a dazzling display of light with spires reaching what almost seems to reach the ceiling of the cavern.
Okayu steps out first, and the hustling crowds around us immediately pay their respect to her. Tricky and I follow her, still in awe of the hotel.
"Welcome to one of my many hotels," Okayu says dramatically, her arm flung toward the grand entrance. The doors slide open, and a warm, golden glow emanates from inside to greet them. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting sparkling reflections on the marble floors. Rich tapestries and sumptuous furniture adorned the space in a manner which spoke of elegance and comfort.
We step inside; the cool air and soothing ambiance greatly contrast with the chaotic energy outside. A wave of awe washes over me as I take in the grandeur around me.
Okayu leads us to the front desk, where a courteous attendant greets us with a warm smile. "Lady Okayu, your guests are most welcome," he says with a slight bow.
"Thank you," Okayu says to us, facing us. "I hope you will find your stay comfortable." She nods to the pair of ornate keys the attendant hands to us. "These are for your rooms. Sleep good tonight. The day after, I'll talk about the favour that I said.
She dismisses the action with a wave of her hand. "Think nothing of it. You are my guests now. You can show yourself around the hotel, make yourselves at home."
Tricky and I glanced over at each other, wordlessly sharing that we had been through something surreal. Be that as it may, this world had turned out to be pretty weird, but Okayu's hospitality proved to be an comforting anchor.
We walk towards the elevator, and in my mind, I feel a great buzz of expectations. The elevator doors slide open, and we stepped inside; its plush interior a continuum of the hotel's opulence. The elevator ascends easily, stopping on our designated floor. The doors open into a corridor lined with exquisite artwork and ornate doors.
We find our rooms with ease; keys fit perfectly into the locks. Inside, the rooms are havens of luxury replete with plush beds, rich fabrics, and every amenity imaginable. I drop my things onto the bed and take a moment to drink in the comfort and tranquility.
A knock at the door breaks my reverie, and I let in Tricky, who has a look of wonder on her face. "This place is incredible," she says, with wide eyes.
"Yeah, it is," I agree, as I step aside to let her in. "I can hardly believe we're here."
She nods, looking around appreciatively. "Okayu seems like someone we can trust. But we should stay on our guard, just in case."
I nod, appreciative of her caution. "Agreed. Let's rest up tonight and be ready for whatever comes next."