Chapter 28: Coming and Going (II)

Dante widened his eyes. His chest, back, arms — no, his entire body — was aching. The smell of wet earth made his nose wrinkle. Forcing his face to the right, he found himself staring at a woman.

A faint light swayed back and forth slowly, illuminating her brown eyes and long white hair. Actually, her hair was mixed with mud.

Pain surged again, and he grimaced. The woman raised a finger to her lips, signaling silence, then crouched down, touching the ground gently. Dante took a deep breath and turned his face upward. Something landed between him and the woman—a thick paw with scaly, cracked skin, as black as the night.

Above him, he couldn't see what it was, but the sensation made him certain: it was a Felroz.

He wanted to move, to get up, but the pain pinned him in place. Dante remained motionless. Before he could summon the strength to move, his mind collapsed.

He dreamed of his wooden house in the village. At the door, his father waited, holding a wooden sword. His chin was raised, and his smile was proud. Rarely had Dante seen his father wear such a grand expression.

"Your actions were correct, son."

Then he woke up. When he opened his eyes, there was a foot on his chest, pressing precisely where it hurt. The sun shone directly overhead, hiding the person's face, and Dante felt the cold barrel of a pressure rifle touch his neck.

"First, don't move," the man said sternly. The hood over his head concealed much of his face. "Second, stay completely quiet until Lady Silver returns. Third, you fell into a pile of crap. You stink."

Dante agreed to all three statements.

"The only one I fully understood was the third. Seems like I'm covered in crap."

The man let out a low laugh.

Dante shifted his eyes. Twisted buildings loomed behind him. Broken windows, toppled structures, even a skyscraper leaning against another, as if fused. Destroyed shops and warped ground. It was a city in ruins.

Vegetation had overtaken the area. Vines climbed iron beams, and grass seemed to merge with the rocks, giving the place a strangely vibrant appearance. Despite the destruction, the bright sun and lush greenery dispelled the darkness he'd witnessed before blacking out.

Even the air smelled different.

"What part of the Capital are we in?" he asked the man but felt the barrel press harder against his throat. "I don't want trouble. I just don't know where I am."

"I know that. I know it well. Nobody falls from the sky in the middle of the night, makes a hole in a Felroz's crap, and comes out unscathed," the man replied, keeping the rifle steady, his finger on the trigger. "Nobody… does that."

Dante swallowed hard, struggling against the pressure of the weapon. He remembered stepping into the portal before it disappeared. He should've been near the Capital, at least close by. Maybe somewhere between the first camp and the Capital?

That's what it should've been. There was no way he'd gotten it wrong.

"Marcus, please." A voice called from behind. "I'm here now."

Marcus raised his head slightly, pulled back the rifle, and lifted his foot from Dante's chest. Dante took a deep breath, his chest expanding, and coughed several times.

"What a terrible smell. My God."

"You're lucky."

It was the woman from earlier. She knelt down, holding a small bowl filled with green paste. She dipped her finger in and applied it to Dante's neck.

"You fell from a very high place and didn't hit the Felroz. That was sheer luck."

"A hell of a lot of luck," Marcus added, holding the rifle like a child, the barrel pointed at the ground, his finger still on the trigger. "A meter to the right, and you'd have been trampled. A meter to the left, and you'd have hit one of them and died. Call that luck."

The paste on his neck seeped into Dante's skin, quickly spreading to his internal injuries. His Cosmic Energy condensed, and his muscles began absorbing the damage from the previous day's battle.

"I…" He sat up, gazing at the surrounding buildings, the sprawling city stretching along a massive main street cluttered with metallic vehicles. "Where am I?"

The woman didn't respond immediately. She and Marcus exchanged glances first.

"This city is called Kappz," Clara answered. "If you want to talk more, we can do so elsewhere. I'll explain what we saw last night."

I

A fall of over a kilometer — that's what they told him.

They left the street, entering a door that led to a long staircase. After climbing about a hundred flights, they emerged inside a building toppled into another. The structure above was intact, with a rooftop filled with small crops and mats.

In one corner, there were low chairs, nearly touching the ground. He asked for permission to sit and was granted it. Marcus, the marksman, kept his eyes fixed on him. The rifle was deliberately aimed forward, toward Dante's chest. Any sudden movement, even slight, would earn him a bullet.

The man's seriousness was unwavering, and even under the blazing sun, he didn't let his hood fall back. His face remained hidden.

"I don't know where you came from," Clara said, handing small bottles of water to Dante and Marcus. "But you fell from a great height. We were leaving this side of the city when you dropped. We spotted you as soon as we climbed up here to gather supplies."

"More luck," Marcus remarked.

Dante had no idea where he was or who they were.

"Do you know the Capital? I came from there. I don't know how, but the portal should've worked."

Again, Clara and Marcus exchanged surprised glances.

"When you say 'portal,' are you referring to some kind of technology that creates a space allowing instant travel?" Clara asked.

Dante nodded immediately.

"That's the one. It's a —"

The rifle was raised instantly. Marcus lifted it, the barrel about to press against Dante's chest when Clara stepped in front of him.

"Lower that weapon."

"No, ma'am," Marcus's voice seethed with anger. "He came from that damned place. I'm sure of it. They must've taken another one of those crazy experiments and sent this guy as a test. They'll do anything."

"We don't know that, Marcus," Clara raised her voice sharply. "I won't let you take the life of a man who doesn't even know where he is. You don't know."

Marcus shook his head, as if trying to deny something.

"How… did he fall from that height and not die?" The rifle remained steady, his finger pressing the trigger. "Move aside, ma'am. Let me—"

"Hey."

Dante's arm rose, trembling with pain. But there was no fear in his eyes, even with the rifle aimed at his face. Clara and Marcus felt the weight of his Cosmic Energy resonate around them, like a heavy mantle.

"I'm not an enemy," Dante said. "I was fighting Felroz when I fell here. I was helping my Officer."

Both Clara and Marcus stared at him. Clara stepped back, giving him space.

"Officer?" Her voice nearly broke. "Are you talking about those places under military control? You're not from one of the feudal territories? Dante, is the place you came from called GreamHachi?"

Dante shook his head immediately, lowering his arm.

"I just said I came from the Capital. I was on a mission. I have no idea what Gream-whatever is."

"Maybe he's an outsider," Clara muttered, touching her face in concern. "The portal you went through—did its color change when you entered?"

"Yes, from blue to purple."

Clara seemed more certain, glancing at Marcus with a thoughtful look.

"Do you know how a portal works, Dante?"

"No, ma'am. I just know they create these spatial changes."

Clara stood and walked to a small wooden table, its drawers barely holding together. She pulled out a pencil and paper, returning to him.

"Let me explain."

She placed the paper on the ground and drew a line.

"Dante, the portal functions as a spatial shortcut, like you said. It reduces the distance between two points, allowing them to connect momentarily. This process is called 'Departure.'" She drew a second line, distant from the first. "This second line represents where you were. The line between them is the portal's shortcut for your 'Departure.'"

Dante followed the explanation. Back home, Talia often studied Capital technology to interface with Command Intelligence.

"Here's the thing: portals are usually stable, even with advanced technology." Clara drew a third line between the first two, directly on the shortcut line. "When a portal wavers, it changes color.

This is called 'Arrival.' It's a phenomenon that can make you lose consciousness or, worse, kill you. But sometimes, the portal closes during this instability."

She lifted the pencil, pointing it at Dante.

"You entered an unstable portal, and before it could stabilize, someone forcibly closed it from the other side."

Marcus whistled, impressed.

"This guy's luckier than a pigeon's nest, ma'am."

Clara nodded, astonished.

"Dante, you could've been sent anywhere in the world. The place you call the Capital—I've never heard of it."

"Neither have I," Marcus added, adjusting his rifle's stance. "And I've never seen a uniform like yours before. White, with small adornments on the sides. It's… way too nice for any city or camp around here."

Dante touched his forehead. If this wasn't near the Capital, and they'd never heard of where he came from…

"Where the hell am I?"