From a distance, the city looked alive—lights flickering in windows, shadows behind curtains, signs still glowing faintly.
Up close? Nothing.
No voices. No engines. No footsteps.
Just us… and the wind.
I pushed open the door to a dusty bar. Chairs overturned, bottles on shelves untouched, as if everyone had left mid-conversation. Lilith and I sat at a cracked table, dust pluming around us with every movement.
I finally spoke up.
[Adam]: Lilith… did you find anyone? Anyone at all?
She shook her head slowly.
[Lilith]: No. Not a soul. It's as if the entire population had just… vanished.
Her voice was quiet, too quiet for Lilith. That alone made the hair on my arms stand up.
I drummed my fingers on the bar counter, staring at the abandoned mugs and scattered cards.
[Adam]: This doesn't make any sense. Cities don't just disappear. People don't just—
I gestured vaguely at the empty street.
[Adam]: —ghost themselves out of existence.
Lilith glanced at the doorway, frowning.
[Lilith]: The lights are still on. Food on some tables is fresh. Whatever happened—it was recent. Very recent.
That did NOT make me feel better.
[Adam]: If this place is an outpost, there should've been guards. Medics. Scouts. Someone.
I paused.
[Adam]: Hell, I'd even take a "sorry we're closed" sign.
Lilith tilted her head, pupils narrowing.
[Lilith]: There's something else.
I froze.
[Adam]: …Lilith, define "something else." And PLEASE don't let it be a Jester Harlequin Warlock. Those guys freak me out. Why did I say that? Why did I SAY THAT—
The floorboard beneath the counter bulged.
Lilith tensed.
[Lilith]: Adam, step back.
I stepped back.
The floorboard cracked. Then exploded.
Not with claws. Not with tentacles. Not a monster.
But with… confetti.
Purple, black, and neon green blasted upward like a discount fireworks show. A puff of smoke burst out, followed by wild, high-pitched, unhinged laughter.
A figure cartwheeled out of the hole, landing perfectly on the bar counter with jazz-hands raised.
[Jester Warlock]: Welcome to Jingle's Discount Dimensional Goods Emporium! No refunds! No morals! No witnesses!
I blinked. Lilith blinked.
The Jester Harlequin Warlock stood there in a patchwork outfit—bells, skulls, ribbons, glowing runes—and a smile that belonged on a "Wanted: Unstable" poster.
He spread his arms, revealing a floating catalog of items made from every universe imaginable.
[Jester Warlock]: You two look travel-worn, stressed, lightly traumatized—my ideal customers!
Lilith whispered.
[Lilith]: Adam… why does he look like a children's birthday clown who sold his soul?
[Adam]: Correction: a birthday clown who sold, rented, pawned, and refinanced his soul.
Before the Jester could respond, the hole in the floor widened. Something huge climbed out behind him—a massive, seven-foot-tall barbarian with a fur cloak, braided beard, and enough muscles to shame a gym poster, carrying a giant backpack full of supplies.
He nodded at us. Calm. Casual. Normal.
[Barbarian—Boulder]: This city is too quiet. Makes my axe nervous.
The Jester snapped his fingers.
[Jester Warlock]: Behave, Boulder! You'll scare the customers!
[Boulder]: I am not the scary one.
He pointed at me.
[Boulder]: HE smells like twenty dying fish gods. You should bathe. Or burn your clothes.
I looked at Lilith.
[Adam]: …I TOLD you it was noticeable.
Lilith shrugged, deadpan.
[Lilith]: I assumed everyone else would be dead before they complained.
The Jester hopped off the counter, getting inches from my face, bells jingling.
[Jester Warlock]: So! You two! Buying? Selling? Running? Screaming? Or all four? I offer combo discounts!
Another tremor vibrated the floor. Lilith stiffened.
[Adam]: Uhh—Jester? What exactly were you two running from?
The Jester's grin dropped instantly.
He snapped his fingers. The lights flickered. The ground rumbled. The temperature dropped. Not dramatically. Just… ominously—the kind of chill you get before a natural disaster.
[Jester Warlock]: Someone… exceptionally dangerous. And exceptionally humorless. A man who cannot handle a single, tiny, barely offensive joke about his pink hair— or his dead sister— or, uh… Alabama.
Lilith stared at him.
[Lilith]: …What did you say to him?
[Jester Warlock]: Oh, nothing major! Just that his sister ran away with his cousin, Alabama family dynamics are confusing, and he should dye his hair a different color before someone mistakes him for a distressed flamingo.
Boulder slowly dragged a giant hand across his face.
[Boulder]: You left out the part where you called him "a budget gay man." And that you teleported him into a horse.
The Jester froze mid-grin, shoulders rising defensively.
[Jester Warlock]: Okay, technically, I never said that. I said he was "a budget drama queen with a sword fetish." Totally different. Much classier.
Boulder slapped a huge palm over his own face.
[Boulder]: And you definitely teleported him into a horse.
I blinked.
[Adam]: Wait—into a horse?
[Boulder]: Half in, half out.
[Jester Warlock]: In my defense, he was a pompous, angry ass hat. Will it was good talking to you two, but he had to go. Our next trade is waiting.
He tossed a coin—happy face on one side, angry frown on the other.
[Jester Warlock]: If you want to meet again, find me at The Smiling Tavern in the Soul Market.
The Jester and Boulder disappeared into mist, leaving behind nothing but faint jingles and the lingering smell of burnt sugar. I exhaled sharply, brushing blue sand from my coat. Lilith tightened her grip on her stuff, scanning the eerily empty tavern as we left.
[Adam]: …Well. That was normal.
[Lilith]: "Normal" is subjective. I would call it alarming.
We began moving cautiously toward the city, the fog curling around streetlamps like ghostly fingers. The silence was deafening.
Then—
A whisper.
Soft, shuffling footsteps from an alley to our left.
We froze. Lilith's wings twitched. I reached for my revolvers.
From the shadows, two figures emerged—ragged, shaking, their robes torn and stained. Their hoods were pulled low, but the faint gleam of gold embroidery suggested some former allegiance. Cultists, clearly… but badly beaten.
[Adam]: Oh. Fantastic. Cultists. Two of them. Clearly unarmed. What could possibly go wrong?
[Lilith]: Stay alert. They might be desperate.
The taller cultist stepped forward, hands raised like he expected us to start shooting immediately. His voice was strangely gentle for someone dressed in blood-colored robes.
[Tall Cultist]: Please… we mean no harm.
[Short Cultist]: Yeah. We… uh… we actually need help.
Lilith and I exchanged a glance, then turned back to them.
[Adam]: Right. Sure. So are your friends going to come out, or are they going to keep pretending they're hiding on that roof?
Both cultists jerked their heads upward in perfect synchronization.
And right on cue—
THUD! THUD!
Two more cultists fell off the rooftop like sacks of potatoes.
Dust exploded around them.
[Tall Cultist]: HOW DID YOU KNOW!?
[Adam]: I just said that. Sorry, I didn't know you actually had idiots up there. That was more of a lucky insult.
[Short Cultist]: Why… why are you apologizing to us?
[Adam]: Because I can only kill you with this massive scythe, and trust me—this thing is not fast or clean. It's slow, and very, very painful.
The tall cultist blinked.
[Tall Cultist]: You're Sankata. Aren't you supposed to use guardian guns and divine relics and—?
He didn't finish.
[Adam]: Sorry, but I already cut you in half.
Both cultists stared down at their waists as blood began pouring in thin sheets onto the cobblestone.
Their eyes widened at the same time.
Then they toppled over like someone unplugged their souls.
Lilith let out a long, exhausted sigh.
[Lilith]: Couldn't you have just shot them?
[Adam]: Lilith… Although I have Mending on all my gear, monsters from other worlds don't drop XP. And XP potions only work if you drink them. And we—you and I—spent the entire day running from amphibia-horrors and a meeting with a homicidal clown. So now all my armor and weapons are in the red.
I tapped the scythe's chipped blade. It made a sad little metallic plink.
[Adam]: And this thing is the only weapon I've got left that won't snap into dust mid-fight.
Lilith rubbed her temples.
[Lilith]: So we're entering an abandoned cult city, low on XP, surrounded by lunatics, and you're wielding the slowest weapon in existence.
[Adam]: Yes. But on the bright side—
[Lilith]: There is no bright side.
[Adam]: You didn't let me finish. On the bright side… I'm in a terrible mood.
Lilith stared at me.
[Lilith]: That is not comforting.
Adam
: It wasn't meant to be.
Behind us, the two surviving cultists from the roof groaned weakly.
Lilith's wing twitched.
[Lilith]: …Are we killing them too?
[Adam]: No. Let them crawl back to their church and tell everyone that dangerous people are here.
[Short Cultist #2]: P-please don't—
[Adam]: Oh, don't worry, buddy. We're not killing you.
I pointed the scythe at him.
Lilith grabbed my sleeve.
[Lilith]: Adam. Enough. Let's just get moving before more of them show up.
We stepped over the bodies and continued deeper into the city.
[Chapter end]