Elender Keep

The firelight flickered across the room as Harry leaned back on the bed, arms crossed, grinning like he was about to unveil the secrets of the universe. Max sat opposite him, his face still calm, but a faint furrow in his brow betrayed his confusion.

"Alright, lesson one: common sense," Harry began, his tone light and theatrical. "In this world—or whatever this place is—things are a little… unusual. There are monsters, magic, and apocalypse vibes. You with me so far?"

Max blinked slowly. "Monsters and magic... I seem to have an idea what they are."

"Great. So, now we—"

Knock, knock.

Harry stopped mid-sentence, his head snapping toward the door. "Huh?"

The wooden door creaked open, and a familiar figure stepped inside. A mop of messy hair, slightly hunched shoulders, and a tired but relieved expression—it was Tim.

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed, sitting up straight. "Tim! Long time no see."

Tim's face lit up with a smile as he stepped into the room. "Harry," he said, his voice warm with relief. "You're awake. Thank goodness." He crossed the room quickly, exchanging a fist bump with Harry. "I'm glad you're alright, man."

"Same to you," Harry replied with a grin.

Tim turned to Max, his hand raised for a fist bump. "And you… Max, right? Thanks for saving this guy. I don't know what we would've done without you."

Max stared at the offered fist, his expression unreadable. For a moment, Tim hesitated, his hand hovering awkwardly in the air.

"Uh, Max?" Tim said, his tone uncertain.

Harry caught Max's blank look and quickly gestured with his eyes, nodding toward Tim's fist. Max tilted his head slightly, clearly confused, before slowly raising his own fist and tapping it lightly against Tim's.

"There you go," Harry said, grinning. "You're a natural."

Tim chuckled, though his smile faltered slightly as he studied Max. Something felt… off. But then again, Max had always been on the quiet side. Maybe it was just his introverted nature.

Tim let it slide, sitting down beside Harry with a relaxed sigh. "Man, it's good to see you two up. Things have been… crazy."

Harry leaned forward, his grin softening. "So, where are we? And what happened after I, uh…" He gestured vaguely with his hands. "You know, fainted."

Tim nodded, his expression turning serious.

"Alright. Here's the rundown." He clasped his hands together, his voice steady as he began recounting the events. "After Max saved you, those people on top of the walls—remember the fireballs and arrows? Yeah, they came down and got everyone. They carried us back up using ropes."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Carried us? Like princess-style?"

Tim snorted. "Don't flatter yourself. They just tossed you over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes."

Harry grimaced, but he couldn't hold back a laugh. "Fantastic. My dignity is intact."

Tim smirked, then continued. "Once we were inside, they gave us dinner — basic food, but not bad—and a place to sleep. Oh, and they healed you and the others who were injured. I mean, properly healed, not just patched up. You should've seen it. They did it using… I don't know, glowing hands? Some kind of magic?"

"Magic or potions," Harry mused, nodding thoughtfully. "Classic RPG stuff."

Tim tilted his head. "I guess. Whatever it was, it worked. You looked half-dead, but now you're… well, you."

Harry grinned. "Glad to know I'm back to my charming self."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Anyway, there's a lot going on here. I figured we'd talk about it while grabbing breakfast. You guys must be starving. You didn't eat dinner last night."

Harry's stomach growled on cue, and he winced. "Ah, yeah. Good timing, stomach. Real subtle."

Tim laughed. "Come on, let's go. The kitchen's this way."

Harry stood, stretching as he glanced at Max. "What do you say? Breakfast?"

Max nodded once, his movements deliberate and precise. He stood as well, his gaze flicking between Harry and Tim, as though observing their dynamic.

Harry smiled, clapping Max on the shoulder. "Alright, let's fuel up and figure out what's going on. Because, spoiler alert: I have theories."

Tim opened the door, leading the way. "Oh, this I've got to hear."

With Harry's jokes and Tim's laughter filling the air, the three of them left the room, stepping into the hall together.

_____ __ _

The hallway leading to the kitchen was dimly lit, the occasional flickering torch mounted on the stone walls casting long shadows. The air smelled faintly of bread and something herbal, a welcome change from the chaos and blood of the night before. Harry stretched his arms above his head, letting out a groan as his sore muscles protested.

"So," Harry said, breaking the silence, "what's this place called? Got a cool name or something? Fortress of Doom? Castle of Endless Torture?"

Tim snorted. "Not quite. It's called Elender Keep."

"Elender Keep," Harry repeated, rolling the name around in his mouth. "Sounds like something out of a fantasy novel. I like it."

Tim nodded. "It's definitely got that medieval vibe, but the people here… they're a bit different."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Different how? They've got horns or tails or something?"

Tim shook his head. "No, they're human—just like us. At least, they look human. But their language… it's totally different. I don't understand a word of it."

Harry frowned, scratching his chin. "Huh. So, no magic translation cheat, huh? That's disappointing. What about the people who didn't appear in the forest? You know, the lucky ones who skipped the monster buffet?"

Tim glanced over his shoulder as they walked. "Yeah, as I mentioned some people appeared directly in Elender Keep. They didn't have to deal with what we did. They're already inside, eating, sleeping, and—get this—they can actually understand the locals. They speak in our language but the locals can understand them too."

Harry stopped in his tracks for a moment, his mouth falling open. "What?! They skipped the tutorial AND got the language pack for free? Lucky people." He shook his head in mock outrage before jogging to catch up. "So, what, they're VIPs or something?"

Tim shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe they got some kind of privilege or blessing. Maybe they're chosen or something."

Harry narrowed his eyes, his mind racing. "Sounds suspicious. Maybe it's like a tiered system—like, easy mode for them, hardcore mode for us."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Harry, not everything's a game."

"You say that, but have you seen Max?" Harry gestured at Max, who was walking silently beside them, his eyes scanning their surroundings like a hawk. "Guy's definitely got protagonist vibes. Maybe we're in his story."

Tim snorted but didn't argue.

They reached a set of double doors at the end of the hallway. Tim pushed them open, revealing a massive hall that stretched far wider than Harry had expected. Long wooden tables lined the room, their surfaces scarred and worn with age, but sturdy. Benches flanked each side, and overhead, a series of iron chandeliers cast a warm glow. 

The aroma of food hit Harry's nose immediately, making his stomach rumble again. On the tables were plates of simple food: rough slices of bread, steaming bowls of soup, small plates of dried fruits, and wooden mugs filled with tea.

The sight of the spread made Harry's mouth water. "Well, it's no steak dinner, but it's better than starving."

Tim grinned. "Not bad, right? Basic, but it'll fill you up."

Harry nodded as they approached one of the tables. The room wasn't packed, but there were several people scattered around—some of them the foreign locals, dressed in plain but sturdy clothes, and others who looked like they came from Earth, judging by their modern outfits.

As they passed a group of locals, Harry couldn't help but notice their curious glances. They spoke to each other in low voices, their language fluid and unfamiliar. One of them nodded politely at Harry, who gave an awkward wave in return.

"Yup, definitely no idea what they're saying," Harry muttered under his breath.

Tim leaned closer. "Yeah, I tried to talk to them earlier. It's like hitting a language barrier the size of this fortress."

Harry glanced at the food again. "Well, language barriers or not, at least they're feeding us."

Tim gestured toward a nearby table. "Come on, let's sit before Max decides to stand in a corner like some brooding loner character."

Harry snickered but quickly noticed Max wasn't paying attention. The guy's gaze was fixed on the locals, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if trying to piece something together.

"Yo, Max," Harry said, snapping his fingers. "Earth to our friend. Food's calling."

Max turned his head, his face as calm as ever, and followed them to the table without a word. Harry couldn't help but grin. 'At least he listens.'

The three of them settled at the table, and Harry grabbed a slice of bread, taking a big bite. It was dry and coarse, but after everything they'd been through, it tasted like heaven.

"Alright," Harry said between bites, "breakfast and intel. Let's talk."

Tim chuckled, grabbing his own piece of bread. "Fair enough. But eat first—no use planning on an empty stomach."

Max, for his part, picked up a mug of tea, staring into it like he was trying to decode its secrets. Harry watched him for a moment, smirking as he thought, 'This guy's definitely an amnesiac.'