Converge

"Today, a guest arriveth, both familiar and unfamiliar~"

- Commentary, Tales of the Transmitted Strange

...


The moment my footstep crossed the threshold of the gate, the whistling, freezing wind of the void vanished instantly.


In its place was the rich scent of damp earth after spring rain, and the sweet fragrance of blooming wild clover. There was no battlefield, no slaughterhouse, nor dense black puddles of blood like in the memory of thirty years ago.


Before our eyes stretched a gentle, verdant hillside.


Right atop the hill stood an ancient avocado tree with broad, waxy leaves, glossy as though coated in a layer of lush green wax. Beneath the cool shade of that canopy, two simple mounds of earth and stone lay side by side. A small stone mound named Kau'i-vhur, and a long grave belonging to my old friend.


The avocado pit of that year had truly taken root. It drove its roots deep into the barren soil of Stratum III, outlasting thirty seasons of snowfall to flourish into a gentle shade, sheltering the eternal slumber of two wandering souls.


I walked forward slowly, standing in silence before the stone graves.


Gli held my hand, silently bowing her head, while Skugga on my shoulder tilted his head slightly, gazing at the moss-draped stones. Though my hollow chest could not thud with emotional stirrings, I still leaned down slightly, resting a clumsy wooden hand upon Soren's mound, like a belated greeting after thirty years apart.


"Yet another one from another world..."


An ice-cold voice, sharp as porcelain scraping against glass, echoed from behind me.


"Is it reincarnation, or rebirth this time?"


I turned around.


Beneath the shade of the avocado tree, an emaciated figure in a tailored, crease-free black suit hovered a handspan above the earth. His face was entirely concealed beneath a dead-white porcelain mask with no nose and no mouth, bearing only a colossal, bloodshot red eye at its center. Upon that porcelain surface were three deep fractures, scars of an earth-shattering battle of years past.


It was Lucidas, Ancient Demon of the First Stratum.


He lifted a black leather-gloved finger, releasing an invisible psychic wave that swept straight across my wooden chest. In a mere millisecond, the crimson light behind the porcelain mask snapped shut into a tiny pinpoint:


"You... You are the friend of that mortal?!"


The porcelain mask tilted in shock. An entity that had lived through millions of cycles now showed utter bewilderment:

"Strange... Incredibly strange. Among the ten thousand variables that bastard Soren plotted before dying, he never calculated that a decapitated corpse could crawl back up, turn into a wooden puppet, and return here after thirty years."

"..."


Lucidas stared at me for a long moment. The red glare in his eye flickered with calculation, but then his killing intent slowly faded:


"Had this been in the past, I would have ground you into ash. But out of consideration for that Soren bastard... and because you are the only friend he mentioned before death, I shall spare your life."


I stood still, using the deep, raspy resonance from my chest to ask him about my head:


"Master Oculus said... my head was taken down to Lower First. Do you know where it is?"


Lucidas fell silent for a beat, releasing a dry, guttural chuckle:


"Lower First? Indeed, after being sealed away in this forsaken corner, I heard rumors among the demon ranks of a remarkably famous human skull. It was hailed as a prodigy of demonic arts, harboring boundless wrath, and learning with terrifying speed. But across many years, its whereabouts have completely vanished."


"What about the examination of the Sigillorum Magic Council?" I asked further.


"In this impoverished world, aside from our demonic kind, not a single soul knows how to wield magic," Lucidas waved a hand. "There are no test stations here. If you wish later, I can only use my authority to tear open the boundary and send you to another realm. But for now, follow me. Someone is waiting for you."


...


Lucidas led us toward the imperial capital of Vark-Aethel.


The scene unfolding before our eyes left Gli gazing in wide-eyed wonder. It was a magnificent metropolis, brimming with vitality. The fortress walls were now blanketed in creeping vines and flowers, and from clean, stone-paved streets, the bright laughter of children with slate-scaled skin rang out merrily in the morning sun.


Twenty-five years since the day of liberation, Soren had kept his promise to the blind blacksmith. This continent had become a true home.


In the grand hall of the imperial palace, we met Lugn once more.


The scrawny youth with bloodshot eyes of hatred from the smithy of years past had now become a middle-aged king in his forties, composed and dignified in bearing. Attending beside the throne were two women draped in the silver cloaks of imperial knights.


The elder sister, Farida, now had a warm family of her own, her gaze soft with maternal gentleness; while the younger sister, Nelida, retained her sharp, resolute demeanor, still appearing youthful, graceful, and carrying the stern beauty of a warrior woman despite being past thirty.


Seeing me in the guise of a wooden construct draped in a wizard cloak and wearing a knight helm adorned with a red plume, Lugn froze, dropping the silver goblet in his hand.


"You... are you truly the friend from Earth that Lord Sevran spoke of?"


I gave a slight nod. Having no memories of this continent over the past thirty years, I had nothing to tell save for trivial childhood fragments from our old world, skipping school on summer noons to catch cicadas, the cramped and leaky rented room, and shared bowls of instant noodles on lean days.


Lugn listened with rapt attention, the seasoned king's eyes brimming with emotion. He recounted for me the entire tragic, epic life of Soren in this place, how he had entrapped two Ancient Demons and fallen in serene peace.


While we conversed, Gli carried Skugga as she darted through the breezy corridors of the palace. She stood upon a soaring terrace, looking down at the capital buzzing with laughter, her eyes sparkling with childlike joy.


...


Following our conversation, Lugn personally guided me to tour the imperial treasury.


Walking down corridors filled with gems and ancient weapons, my footsteps halted abruptly. Upon a pedestal draped in black velvet in the deepest corner, something was pulsing with a soft, silvery light.


It was a thick, ancient tome bound in worn, battered leather, its four corners frayed by time, Tales of the Transmitted Strange.


Lugn stepped forward, explaining:


"This ancient tome appeared on the night Lord Sevran fell. Lord Lucidas said it was a bizarre relic, instructing us to safeguard it within the national treasury. If you like it, I gladly present it to you as his keepsake. Curiously enough, a few years ago it vanished into thin air, causing quite a panic across the realm, only for our scouts to recover it near Lord Sevran's grave. If you like it, I gladly present it to you as his keepsake."


I had barely stepped forward, before my hand could even reach the spine, when the ancient tome began to tremble violently.


SWOOSH.


Without a whisper of warning, the book dissolved into a thin streak of silver radiance, darting forward to plunge straight through my wooden chest and vanishing without a trace.


Both Lugn and I stared at each other in shock. I looked down at my chest in haste, yet the timber was untouched; only within the hollow cavity did an invisible warmth seem to coil and flow in silence.

"Ljus... are you all right?!" Lugn asked in alarm.


"I am... fine," my deep voice resonated. Strangely, the book caused me no harm; it was as though a long-lost possession had simply returned to its rightful place.


Right at that moment, a shrill, frantic scream echoed from the deep vaults beneath the treasury:


"Let me out of hereeeeeeeeeee!"


Lugn sighed softly, rubbing his forehead in exasperation:


"That is the lone remaining prisoner in this entire realm."


He explained that since the unification of the three continents, thanks to the terrifying deterrence of Lord Lucidas, the populace lived in contentment and peace, with no one committing crimes anymore. Prisons across the continent were practically abandoned.


"However," Lugn lowered his voice, "occasionally, strange individuals from other worlds still tumble down through the cave where Lord Sevran was buried. Fortunately, thanks to the detailed contingency plans Lord Sevran left behind prior to his death, Lord Lucidas and our men apprehended every single one of them on their very first day."


Lugn counted them off on his fingers:


"There was one claiming to be a Player, demanding quests to save the world; an arrogant one declaring himself a Reincarnated God; another possessing the power to reverse time upon death to redo his life; and one wielding an art to multiply strength exponentially by slaying others... The moment they poked their heads out of the cave mouth, Lucidas's prepared snares captured them alive, after which Lord Lucidas used illusions to wipe their memories and relocated them to remote frontiers."


"Then what about the one in the dungeon below?" I wondered.


"He is the lone exception," Lugn shook his head. "He claims to be a 'Beta Tester' of Stratum I. His psyche is so bizarre that even Lord Lucidas's hypnosis could neither penetrate nor control him. Unable to release him and unable to kill him, we had no choice but to lock him in the dungeon for these past few years."


...


We descended into the dungeon.


Inside a sturdy stone cell, an emaciated youth with bird's-nest hair, clad in a tattered T-shirt, was huddled in a corner. The instant he saw silhouettes approaching, he lunged toward the iron bars, clasping his hands in frantic bows:


"Spare me, my lords! I swear I will not cause any trouble! Just let me outside to breathe some fresh air; it is so damp and moldy in here that mushrooms are sprouting on my head!"


I looked into his eyes. In them lay only panic, fear, and the slight foolishness of a lost wanderer, utterly devoid of wolfish malice or murderous intent.


I turned to Lugn, speaking:


"He is not an evil person. Could you release him? I can use magic to forge a binding oath, ensuring he harms no one."


Lugn blinked in surprise, then let out a sigh of relief:


"If you can bind him with magic and take him along, that would be wonderful! In that case, this kingdom will officially be free of prisoners!"


Hearing that, the youth nearly fainted with delight, banging his forehead against the stone floor in profuse gratitude:


"Thank you, brother! My name is Namne, you can just call me Nam for short!"


I raised a wooden finger, chanting a simple binding formula Oculus had taught me, requiring Nam to swear never to harm an innocent life. He obediently recited every word with earnest devotion.


The moment the cell gate opened, space beside us cracked open. Lucidas stepped out from a black haze, his crimson eye glaring at Nam with cold caution:


"Be wary of this brat, Ljus. At times, he can turn entirely invisible to reality. Even an Ancient Demon like myself occasionally fails to sense his existence."


Nam scratched his head with an awkward chuckle: "I swear I have no idea why my game glitches like that either, big bro one-eye..."


...


After some discussion, I decided to let Gli and Skugga remain in the capital to enjoy themselves for a few days. The girl deserved to savor peace after thirty years of grueling labor. King Lugn thoughtfully dispatched Nelida, his mature and skilled knight sister, to protect the two.


Nam and I departed the imperial palace together, strolling through sunlit stone avenues.


Walking a short distance, Nam looked up at my red-plumed steel helm, asking hesitantly:


"Hey, brother... do you truly lack a head? What do you use to see and speak?"


I tapped my fingers lightly against my chest.

"..."

After chatting for a while, Nam discovered with amazement that we both hailed from Earth. Not only that, we belonged to the very same era! Nam had been swept into a spatial fissure back in the year 2021, while my tragedy occurred in the summer of 2026, less than five years apart on Earth.

Yet because chaotic fissures from Sub-0 fold erratically across space and time rather than flowing in a straight chronological line, two wanderers cast out half a decade apart on Earth had ended up tumbling into this reality within the exact same span of years.

Knowing I was a fellow countryman, Nam rejoiced as though striking gold. He chattered ceaselessly about familiar things from home: social media, trending songs, famous piping-hot dishes on winter mornings... Those distant earthly notions made the wooden bark upon my body feel gradually warm.


We strolled on, talking as we walked, unwittingly reaching the city outskirts where a vast blueberry plantation stretched beneath the mountain foothills. Clusters of deep purple berries swayed in the breeze, exuding a fresh, pleasant sweetness.


Walking among the rows of shrubs, we suddenly caught sight of an unusual figure diligently picking fruit.


It was a creature in the guise of a youth, yet upon his head grew soft strands of hair writhing like squid tentacles. Across his pale skin and working clothes were blotches of dense black ink.


Seeing someone approach, he started, backing away and timidly raising both hands:


"I... I am not stealing! I am only laboring as a fruit-picker in exchange for bread!"


After a few gentle inquiries, the youth regained his composure and shared his story. His name was Lizette, belonging to an ancient merfolk race dwelling in Stratum II. Yet the tragedy was that his kin produced brilliant, luminous ink prized for noble paintings, while Lizette alone was born with a deformity: he could only spit ink that was pitch-black, dreary, and sticky.


Viewed as an ill omen and a monstrosity, Lizette was exiled and cast down into Stratum III. He drifted across lands taking odd jobs, always longing to find a way back to Stratum II to prove himself, but a weak creature like him possessed no means to cross spatial boundaries.


Hearing that, I tilted my steel helm toward him:


"We are also preparing to find a way to the upper strata. If you wish, you may journey with us."


Lizette's eyes widened, the tentacles upon his head perking upright in joy:


"Tr... truly?! You are truly letting me come along?!"


And so, one of the most bizarre parties in existence was casually formed: a headless wooden construct in a knight's guise, an Earth gamer prone to 'rendering glitches', and an exiled squid-boy.


We sat flat beneath the cool shade of the blueberry shrubs, popping sweet berries into our mouths as a light bite, leisurely waiting for Lizette to pack his worn belongings into a straw sack. The rustic wind rustled past, bringing an uncanny sense of serenity.


Just as I was resting half-asleep against the trunk, a small dark shadow dropped down from a branch above, landing snugly into my lap.


I leaned down intending to pat its head out of habit, only to realize this was not Skugga.


It was an adorable calico cat with three patches of fur: rust-orange, snow-white, and coal-black. Stranger still, atop its head sprouted a tiny horn no larger than a corn kernel, and upon its back were two miniature bat wings folded clumsily.


The little cat looked up with round eyes at my steel helm, let out a long yawn, then casually curled into a ball within the folds of my wizard cloak, letting out a tender mew:


"Meow!"


...