Drek and Bjor were ushered back to the group with a few sharp slaps from Kito, who had no patience for their aimless lounging. She might’ve cared for them—but like hell she was going to let them float through this part like it was a game show.

The shopkeeper smiled knowingly. “There’s always someone trying to forget about the situation. But now, it’s your turn to choose—your last, and perhaps most important contribution. So choose wisely.”

Bjor glanced upward at the skyless void above, where infinite shelves of items glimmered like constellations frozen in time. “Uh… so… how do we… y’know…”

Drek nodded beside him, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, uh… how do we choose anything from all that?”

The shopkeeper’s grin deepened. “Simple. Just like your friend Ito—you narrow it down. Intent, not abundance, is what shapes fate in here. Tell me what function, what feeling, you’re aiming for. I’ll do the rest.”

Their blank stares weren’t comforting, but Ito sighed and waved the group together. The air around them was warm and still, but there was a strange gravity now—like the decisions they made here would echo far louder than expected.

“Let’s discuss first, then decide,” he said.

Tao was the first to speak, voice even. “What about magical armor? Something defensive. Resilience might buy him more time in a bad fight.”

Ito shook his head. “Jaeger isn’t a tank. He fights like water—motion, flow, unpredictability. Armor would disrupt that. Even enchanted, it’d add drag. And with the wings I gave him…” he tilted his head, “…it might even become a liability. That cloak is his armor. Reactive. Fluid. More versatile than a plate ever could be. That’s why I chose what I did.”

Tao nodded slowly. “Fair point.”

Kito leaned forward. “A secondary weapon? He has the gun, yeah, but something close-quarters. Something discreet. A dagger, maybe?”

Ito considered it—but again, shook his head. “His chain blade is an extension of himself. The way he fights—it’s personal. The gun supports that rhythm, adds a different tempo. Give him another weapon, and we scatter his focus. He’s already got two limbs and a damn tail, metaphorically. Let’s not add a third arm just because it’s cool.”

“Damn,” Kito muttered, leaning back. “He’s already too kitted out.”

Drek and Bjor sank a little further into the conjured chairs that had risen beneath them—like students who hadn’t studied for an oral exam. But after a long, thoughtful pause, Drek leaned toward Bjor and whispered something under his breath.

Bjor lit up, nodding like a bobblehead on caffeine. “Yeah, man. Yeah, that’s a good one.”

Drek turned back with a grin that could only be described as stoned and inspired. “Alright, hear us out—what about boots? Not clunky ones. Something lightweight. Tailored. Something that can help him control that freakish speed of his. He told us himself—when he uses that lightning burst thing, he loses control. What if we gave him something that anchored that?”

Ito raised a brow, then let out a low laugh. “I’ll be damned. Are you… smarter when you’re high?”

Drek grinned and flipped him the bird, which only earned another round of chuckles.

But the idea struck true. Everyone felt it.

Before anyone could even react further, the shopkeeper appeared beside Drek like a phantom, making him flinch violently in his chair.

“Have you decided?” he asked, eyes bright.

Drek gave Ito a look, who nodded.

“Yeah,” Drek said, voice a little firmer this time. “High-grade boots. Nothing heavy. Something that enhances movement—especially control at high speeds. It’s not just about going faster. It’s about not losing yourself when you get there.”

The shopkeeper stroked his chin, then nodded. “There’s a pair I know of… the Boots of Mercury. Named after an old myth, a god of speed, of transitions, of messages carried through time. Sleek black leather. Trimmed with golden wing-thread around the cuffs—more than ceremonial. They’re symbolic. Movement without weight. Direction without doubt.”

Tao gave a little gasp silently and Ito smirked. He looked to Ito. “They won’t just boost his speed—they’ll correct it. Let him move in three dimensions like he’s on rails. And when he reaches critical velocity, they’ll activate the skill Limit Breaker.”

“Limit Breaker?” Tao echoed, eyes narrowing.

The shopkeeper nodded. “A safeguard. It stabilizes the user’s internal systems, protecting from the backlash of overwhelming acceleration. At the same time, it unlocks enhanced fluidity in movement and reflex—allowing the user to react, even when their body shouldn’t be able to keep up.”

“Velocity syncing,” Jax murmured. “Like predictive motion anchoring. That’s… tech theory made magical.”

“And here,” the shopkeeper added, “it’s instinct.”

Drek grinned, eyes wide. “Yeah. We’re giving him those.”

The choice was sealed with a snap of the fingers—and somewhere, the threads of Jaeger’s fate twisted again.

Bjor leaned in next, his voice full of excitement. “Alright—hear me out. What if… we gave him a bracelet, or an armband, something small. But one that acts like a battery? A collector. Something that attracts electricity. Stores it. Maybe even refines it.”

Jax’s eyes lit up. “That’s perfect. He burns through so much lightning energy. If we gave him a portable reservoir? That’s… that's a core upgrade.”

The shopkeeper was already nodding. “We have such a thing. Its original form was a totem—but we can fashion it into a bracelet. It draws ambient electricity, whether from the environment or his own output. And when needed… it pulses that energy back into him. Fuel. Ammunition. Emergency power. All tailored to someone with his affinity.”

Another flick of the wrist—and the bracelet was gone, bound for Jaeger.

“You two,” Ito said with a smirk, “are dangerously clever when you’re stoned.”

Tao gave his brother a look. “Makes you wonder how they survived Mage School.”

“Probably because they were high,” Kito added dryly.

Then the shopkeeper turned to the last member of the group.

“Jax,” he said gently. “An increase in ability. A direct boost. Twenty points. Where will they go?”

Jax looked like he’d just been handed the steering wheel of a spaceship. “Twenty? That’s… a lot. But I don’t even know what the options are.”

“Then take a look.”

The shopkeeper handed over a parchment—and like curious moths to flame, everyone crowded around his shoulder.

Strength. Speed. Dexterity. Endurance. Perception. Control. Elemental resonance. Bloodline purity. Musicality. Charm. Even luck.

It wasn’t a list. It was a philosophy—everything that could be cultivated within the soul of a person.

Jax blinked. “Some of these don’t even seem… physical.”

“They aren’t,” the shopkeeper replied. “But they’re still real. Luck can be refined. Charm, too. The ability to draw power from bloodlines, or refine music into magic—that’s as much a skill as lifting a mountain. If you know what to do with it.”

Jax hesitated. “Then… what should I choose?”

He turned to Ito and Tao.

Ito didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to the shopkeeper. “Educationally, of course… what would you pick?”

The shopkeeper didn’t miss a beat. “Jaeger is the sort of person who builds quietly—he compounds. He improvises, but never wastes. He’s grounded and reactive. So don’t enhance what’s already strong. Amplify the unexpected.”

He pointed to a section low on the sheet.

“Auxiliary Mastery: Instruments.”

Jax blinked.

Everyone blinked.

Then they remembered the lute.

Jaeger, sitting in the foglight, fingers gliding over string—not just playing music, but channeling something. Respect. Connection. Purpose.

It hadn’t just been an idle moment. It had been him, listening to something deeper.

“Enhance that,” Ito said. His voice was quiet. “Let him see what it becomes.”

The shopkeeper smiled, pleased.

He snapped his fingers one final time.

And far away, beneath a field of shimmering roses, Jaeger would feel the first whispers of music humming through his blood.

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I felt the final wave of change within myself, which was the 6th time. This meant that they had given him all they could.

“You have been chosen to fight for the six, you shall be given a quest and upon completion your friends will be set free and you yourself will live.” The voice of the shop keeper wafted from the door as it slowly opened.

With a shrug, there was no surprise by now “I had guessed that the nothing to one was the odds…it doesn’t make any sense, it should be one to nothing…but I guess you wouldn’t be able to fuck with us if it was any other way…tell them thanks.” The keeper was quite surprised at me from his reaction, to have thought this over in just several minutes of the door shutting, to his perspective, was astounding it would seem.

What else was I to think about? Why would I receive what they were supposed to? I could be getting duplicates of what they each chose, but the choices didn’t add up to what they would choose. It added up to benefitting me, that was the first clue.

With a leap I got up, hearing a noise from my watch I looked down to find the last thing I gained was an increase in musical ability.

This cemented it, only Ito who I had told everything to would specifically choose things to boost me based on what I had said I was good at or could perform. Even the smallest thing such as the lyre itself.

“Good luck…” *creek* *clap* with a slam, the door disappeared into the ether.

“Fuck me…” I threw off the ashes and placed the renewed cig in my chest pocket.

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The roses began to wither as the door vanished, and with it, the last traces of the shop. Petals once flush with crimson and gold dulled to brittle grey, curling like ash. The green bled from the field, color draining in slow motion. What was left behind was not decay—it was emptiness. A grey marsh swallowed the land, swallowing beauty, swallowing hope.

I stood in the middle of it all, hands twitching, body alight with residual sensation. My eyes drifted to the cloak draped across my shoulders, those strange new wings lying dormant, folded and silent.

“These wings… cloak?... hmm… empower… boon of mystery… musical ability increase… boots… bracelet…” I relied heavily on two runes of lightning still powered from before they left to process all of what had happened now that I wasn’t thinking about a dumb ass riddle.

The list compiled in my mind like a silent ledger, each item whispering its own story of sorts. They were the tools given so I had to make use of them for whatever came next.

The wings flared open at a thought, sliding away from my back like unfurling blades of cloth. They moved with intent—less like appendages and more like living tools, reacting to my pulse, to the flow of elemental energy in my body. I twisted my back slightly, and they pivoted. A flex of focus, and they curved, drifting lazily before settling down once more. No nerves. No weight. But somehow… presence. I had to spend a while just remembering they were there. First the spacial arms and now this. I was a freak. I was going to ask Enigma to rid me of the spatial arms if I had these now.

The bracelet hummed next. When I gave it a slight spin with two fingers, it clicked, expanded, and floated off my wrist. It began to rotate rapidly in the air, whirling with a faint electric thrum before collapsing back into its original shape and reattaching itself.

Ten seconds.

That’s all it took to fully charge a lightning rune.

Ten. Seconds.

Before? I needed a high-risk burst or a bulky generator. This—this changed the game. Efficiency wasn’t just a convenience now; it was a tactical weapon.

The Boots of Mercury lived up to the flair of their name. My footing, even on this newly slick, marshy terrain, felt precise. I didn’t just run faster—I moved cleaner. A step felt like three. Momentum surged and cut on a dime. The real marvel, though, was the potential. Limit Breaker wasn’t just a boost—it was an escape. A trump card. A moment of grace when the world came apart.

Still risky. Still exhausting.

But survivable. If I used it right.

Empower came next. A raw skill, efficient in its description. ‘30 points’ to everything for five minutes. Or rather translated, a third of my everything better. No aftershock. No burnout. Just... cooldown. A few hours. Manageable. The kind of skill that made heroes out of corpses.

I filed that one away for something special. Something terrible.

Then there was the lyre.

The Dream Cloud Lyre.

I had no idea where it came from, not truly. A gift from the fog? A leftover reward? A memory I hadn’t earned yet? It didn’t matter. The second my fingers brushed its strings, music bloomed into the deadened air—soft, warm, haunting. It played well. Too well. Like it wanted to be heard. Like it wanted to be used.

I strummed it again, slower. Notes curled outward like fog meeting dawn. My skin prickled.

Something had changed in me.

Instrument mastery? Really?

Someone out there had picked this for me.

“Good choice,” I murmured, glancing toward the sky. “Whoever you are.”

My money was on Ito. The others… maybe. Maybe not.

There’d be time for thanks. Or questions. Later.

I flicked my wrist, and the chain blade dropped from the ether into my palm, as familiar as my own breath. It locked into the armpit holster beneath my coat. A second later, Frog leapt from the mist and spat out both sidearms—bless his sticky little soul. The derringer slid into my boot holster, while the full-sized pistol found its place strapped along my thigh. Instead of in my other shoulder holster.

Two empowered rounds in the derringer. FMJs loaded in the pistol. I wouldn't waste them—not unless it was worth it. Sound still meant death in this place, and silence was my most reliable ally. Silenced or not if a creature could sense things through movement the jig would be up sideways.

The wings flexed once more, then collapsed back down over my shoulders like draping silk. No different than a cloak. Blended in perfectly.

I exhaled.

I was ready now. Or as close as I could get.

Glad I had the foresight to visit Craft before coming in. Special rounds. Custom cartridges. A few experimental shells. When you don’t know what you’re walking into, prep like it’s everything.

I’m no giant slayer. But maybe, just maybe—I’d survive like one.

Ding.

The watch glowed faintly. Another message.

Boon of Mystery: Quest Acquired.
Objective: Slay 10 Vampires. Slay 10 Werewolves.

“...Oh fuck me.”

Never mind the killing part—Vampires and Werewolves?

That meant they were here. Now. In this realm. Not hypothetical. Not folklore. Not "one day maybe."

Actual, blood-drinking, moon-worshipping, supernatural predators.

The Boon of Mystery was quickly proving itself… well, useful. Predictive, even. A cheat code with fangs.

Mythical creatures. Real as fog and fire.

But then again—this dimension had spat out things far worse. Undead that stitched themselves together with teeth. Ghosts made of grief and knives. A city swallowed in timeless horror.

Vampires and werewolves?

Just another Tuesday.

With a grimace, I loaded the derringer with silver stakes. Slid in silver-tipped FMJs to the pistol. Topped the shotgun shell barrel with a scatter-loaded silver bead round.

I had prepared for a lot before walking into this portal. Everything from animated corpses to armored bears. Silver rounds weren’t extravagant—they were pragmatic.

Because out here? You never really knew.

And the Boon of Mystery?

Well, it had just confirmed that things were about to get a whole lot worse.