I stumble out of the portal, my feet dragging almost as much as my thoughts. With a flick of my hand, I close the blue opening behind me, leaving the lingering echoes of divine aura and traumatized elves in my wake.
The silence of the room wraps around me like a warm blanket. I'm finally back in the Magister's quarters, our HQ for this expedition.
Which is to say: the den of a hibernating bear who hasn't been told winter's over.
He's asleep.
Still.
Always.
Seriously.
How is this humanly possible?
I stare at him, momentarily fascinated and faintly jealous.
The Magister is sprawled on his stomach, one arm dangling off the bed, a thread of drool elegantly hanging from the corner of his mouth. One leg sticks out carelessly from the blanket, as if to say, *"This is my place, screw you, let me die here in peace."*
The worst part? He hasn't moved an inch since this morning. Not one. Even his hair hasn't dared shift during his sleep. The air around him has that eerie calm of a dormant volcano: as long as nothing stirs, all's well. Wake him, and you'd better pray for a quick death.
I let out a long, deep, existential sigh.
And that's when they show up.
The Familiars.
Number 5 is the first to appear, floating in the air.
"So, so?" he asks, brimming with enthusiasm. "How was I? Stunning, right? I felt shivers of respect ripple through that whole elven assembly."
…Is he serious?
I stare at him.
He stares at me.
I stare back.
He grins. Wide. Proudly.
"You were supposed to…" I take a breath, already exhausted from talking. "…show an impressive aura. Just. Impress. Not traumatize an entire civilization."
He bursts out laughing.
"Oh, my poor human. My sweet little assistant. You don't get it. You *had* to crush them. Terrify them. Humiliate them. That way, our beloved Master doesn't have to get out of bed. A well-executed intimidation is a lifelong pass to not being bothered."
…I have to admit, the logic holds.
Sadly. Tragically. Too well.
Number 1 appears next in the room.
He looks at me for a long moment, then inclines his head slightly.
"You survived a fragment. And held your ground. Congratulations."
Number 3 pops up from behind, perched as usual on her floating moon-staff, grinning broadly.
"Tough little human! Way sturdier than you look, haha! Honestly, I thought you'd be pissing blood after ten seconds."
Charming.
Real compliments.
I should be thrilled. Honored. Elevated to hero status.
Except.
I can't feel my legs.
My arms are questionable too.
And suddenly, as if my brain finally realizes it can rest, I collapse.
Literally.
The floor rushes up. My knees buckle. My elbows try to protest but they're done. My muscles go on a full strike. My body becomes an empty sock.
*THUD.*
I crash to the floor with a dull sound, face against the tiles, arms splayed. I try to speak, but it comes out more like "uuuhhghnn" than a coherent sentence.
Number 2, silent until now, steps forward.
"This is your body dealing with the aftermath. You bore the imprint of a power not meant for humans. Your vital energy is… wrung out."
Oh. Great. I'm literally a used sponge.
I manage to roll onto my back, like an old seal washed up on a beach. And I lie there. Panting. Staring at the ceiling as if it'll give me the will to keep living.
My gaze slides slowly to the Magister's bed.
He's still asleep.
Cozy as hell.
Peacefully.
Belly against the pillow, mouth slightly open. A soft, steady snore.
And me, down here, dying on the floor after tasting just a *single tiny fragment* of one of his seven Familiars' power.
Seven.
Whole.
I don't know if he's human. Or if he ever was.
I… think I just grasped what "abyss" means. It's not a metaphor. It's a physical fact. I'm a frog in a bucket. He's the ocean.
"By the way, your nose is bleeding."
Number 5 is crouched beside me, looking almost fond. He offers an embroidered handkerchief.
I don't have the strength to refuse.
I feel a warm trickle from my left nostril. Awesome. The cherry on my corpse.
And then it gets worse.
My body starts trembling. My limbs shake uncontrollably. My head explodes with a migraine. I think I've lost the ability to blink.
I'm going to die. That's it. Done.
"Don't worry," says Number 1's gentle, commanding voice.
He steps closer and, without ceremony, places the tip of his staff on my forehead.
"You're essential to the Master's peace."
A surge of energy flows through me.
And suddenly.
*Poof.*
I'm fine.
My body relaxes instantly. No pain. No fatigue. No shaking. I sit up, mouth agape, eyes wide.
"Huh…?"
Number 1 steps back with a barely visible smile.
"I've harmonized your energy and regenerated your damaged tissues. You're… operational. Like new."
I spring to my feet. Do a squat. Jump in place.
I FEEL BRAND NEW.
"That's cheating," I murmur, stunned. "I mean… that's literally divine."
Number 3 cackles from her staff.
"Well, duh! That's why we're the best. You're lucky, human. If our Master wasn't so lazy, he'd have conquered the world ten times over."
Something tells me that's not wrong.
I take a deep breath. I'm alive. Whole. Standing.
And, most importantly, the elves agreed. Which means now…
"Right," I say, straightening up. "Now that the alliance with the elves is sealed… I can move to phase two."
Number 3 tilts her head, watching me.
"Dragon King extermination, huh?"
I nod.
"Yup. It's time."
A silence settles. The Familiars look at me.
"You're going *now*?" Number 5 asks. "Don't you want to, I dunno… sleep? Eat something? You nearly died three minutes ago."
I give a weak smile.
"I'd rather go now. Before my body realizes I lied and decides to fall apart."
Another silence.
Then all the Familiars burst out laughing.
Number 1 nods and looks at me. For a long time.
"So," he says calmly, "what's your strategy for facing the Dragon King?"
I stare at him.
He stares at me.
I stare back.
"Charge straight in," I reply.
Silence.
Then a near-paternal sigh escapes Number 1.
And that's when *she* appears.
Number 4.
My instincts tense. My left eye twitches. A small internal alarm goes off, *ding ding ding—toxic person detected.*
She floats into the room.
Just that look.
*That. Look.*
The one that says, *I judge you, deeply, wholly, universally.*
I roll my eyes.
We don't even know each other, so why don't I like her?
"I don't like you either, human," she says without blinking.
…Crap.
She reads minds.
My life is a series of bad decisions, I'm more and more certain.
She drifts closer.
"You've never faced a Dragon King," she says. "What makes you so confident?"
I smile.
Deep in my memory, a gentle, demanding voice rises. My teacher's. The one who always said:
*"Go where you've never set foot. That's where you'll learn to run."*
So I shrug.
"I like challenges. And… my whole life's just a long string of moments where I push past my limits."
I see Number 4's brows furrow, as if she's debating whether to call me an idiot or a failed poet. Fair hesitation.
But I press on before she can open her mouth.
"Do you know exactly what we're up against? I mean… concretely. A Dragon King—what is it, exactly?"
Number 1 tilts his head slightly.
"A powerful creature."
Pause.
That's it.
I look at them.
They look at me.
I look again, hoping a user manual will magically appear.
Nothing.
"Seriously?" I ask. "That's your full analysis? You're legendary Familiars, and all you give me is 'powerful'?"
Number 5 shrugs, floating upside down.
"Well, what'd you expect? You didn't give us a grading scale."
And then, as my brain's already exhausted from five minutes of this conversation, an idea hits me.
A completely stupid idea.
One of those ideas that deserves a medical warning.
I feel Number 4 flinch behind me.
"No," she says. "Whatever idea you just had, it's dumb."
I turn slowly.
"You reading my mind, or you just have good radar?"
"Both."
Charming.
"What's your problem? Everyone's got dreams, right?" I retort.
She rolls her eyes with an audible sigh, as if I just aged her three centuries.
So I turn to the others, feigning lightness.
"Alright, how'd you rate me, then, on, say, a scale of 100? In power. Let's say… me, the Dragon King, and the Magister."
Number 2, silent until now, furrows his brow.
He takes his time. Closes his eyes. Mutters softly, studying the air above my head, as if reading my aura on an invisible screen.
Then he opens his eyes.
"Based on your current ether flow… I'd say you're at 5 out of 100. The Dragon King, 8. And our Master… off the charts, but let's say 100."
I nod.
I smile.
Then I point at the Magister, still fast asleep.
"In that case," I say, standing tall with pride, "I'm going to crush the Dragon King. And aim for the Magister."
Number 3 bursts out laughing.
"This human's nuts! Nuts, but… interesting."
I crack my shoulders.
Number 5 pats my head.
Number 1 looks at me, impassive.
Number 4 sighs so hard I swear a plant in the corner just wilted.
Me?
I smile.
"Alright… let's do this."
Pretty bold for someone who was literally dying on the floor ten minutes ago.
But hey.
They said 5 out of 100.
And I like round numbers.