Location: Near Doras Dagda, Scottish Highlands.
The hoard shimmered under dim torchlight, a pile of golden coins spilling like loose change from a busted vending machine. Enchanted items sat among plain trinkets, their faint glow hinting at leftover arcane power. The win left him winded. Not from the fight, but from how real it felt.
Robert knelt and sifted through the metal and trinkets until a narrow leather bracelet caught his eye. Its sleek metallic face had dials and a digital display blinking steadily, casting tiny reflections on nearby gold. It didn't hum with magic, but something about it pulled at him.
Curiosity sparked, and Robert held up the bracelet to study its delicate gears. "This isn't magical," he said, frowning. "Not like the rest."
Langston's gaze locked onto it, his hand already reaching. "May I see that?" he asked, his voice softer than usual, almost hopeful.
Robert shrugged, still puzzled by the device. "Sure. Looks useless, but go for it."
The moment the bracelet touched Langston's skin, it sprang to life. Thin wires shot out and burrowed into his wrist like needles, making him stagger backward. He froze, staring at the filaments weaving across his flesh.
Then pain hit. Langston screamed and dropped to his knees as the bracelet glowed a harsh red. The wires drilled deeper, fusing with his tendons and bones in a brutal merger of metal and flesh. Robert watched, his stomach turning at the sight.
Langston's cries bounced off the stone walls as he clawed at the device. The wires kept moving, slipping under his skin in a raw, invasive fusion. Robert saw no magical sparks—just metal grinding into flesh.
"GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!" Langston's desperate voice cut deep. Robert leapt forward, but a pulse from the bracelet knocked him back, crackling with an unfamiliar energy.
Snow darted in, chanting a spell with her hands glowing pale blue. The magic fizzled before it reached him, canceled by the device's strange power. She stumbled, her eyes wide with alarm.
The pain stopped as suddenly as it started. Langston slumped forward, panting, sweat trickling down his brow. The wires were gone, leaving a seamless blend of metal and skin.
"Langston?" Robert asked, his heartbeat thudding hard enough to drown out Snow's voice. "You okay?"
Langston didn't answer right away, staring at his wrist. Then his expression shifted to fascination. "It's… showing me something," he murmured, his gaze distant. "I can see readouts, like scanning data."
Hamish stepped closer, swords half-raised. "What kind of readouts?" he demanded, sounding more wary than curious.
Langston blinked, pulled back into the room. "Robert MacCallum. Vessel of Moira. Mage Generalist, Elemental Manipulator." He paused, his voice flat as he read more. "Your stats… it's listing them like some kind of interface."
Robert frowned. "That's impossible," he said, but a knot in his stomach said otherwise. He felt Snow's anxious gaze on him, though she stayed quiet.
Langston turned to Hamish, scanning him like a machine. "Half-plate armor for the Paladin," he said in a monotone. "Protects against magic and physical hits. Channels light magic twice a day, light as normal clothes."
Hamish's jaw dropped. "How the heck could you know that?" Only they had tested those armor properties.
Langston shook his head. "I don't know. This thing's showing me data, almost like scientific specs." He flexed his fingers, wincing at a faint tingle in his muscles. "It's… unreal."
Snow stepped forward, worry creasing her face. "Is it hurting you anymore? Do you feel safe?"
Langston let out a hollow laugh. "Safe? Absolutely not." He looked at Robert with surprising calm, though his voice held a tremor. "Functional? Yes. It's scanning everything, science or magic—maybe both."
Chaucer stood nearby, flashing a crooked grin. "Fascinating. Also terrifying. Let's hope it doesn't turn you into a toaster oven for its next trick, dear friend."
Langston glared at Chaucer, but Robert cut them off with a sharp wave. "Focus. We can investigate the bracelet later. For now, gather what you can from this hoard."
No one spoke, but they all knew it was time to move as they turned to the Fae Queen's treasury. Robert's attention drifted to a towering black throne draped in tattered velvet, its jagged edges hinting at power and danger. Something about it tugged at him, stirring a hunger he couldn't name.
He walked up the dais, stepping around scattered piles of loot, his pulse quickening. Could this be the Sanctum's seat of authority? He sat, ignoring the warning in his gut.
Energy hit him the moment he touched the throne's twisted frame. Pain surged through his nerves, locking his muscles, forcing a raw cry from his lungs. "Robert!" Snow's scream echoed, but she couldn't get close.
A cold voice boomed through the chamber, thick with malice. "STAY BACK, OR THIS ONE TURNS TO ASH."
Robert fought the throne's grip, forcing air into his lungs. He drew on his earth magic, steadying himself with a trembling wave beneath his feet. Air magic sharpened his thoughts, flooding his mind.
The throne kept pulling, his bones aching, his head swimming with static. Robert refused to give in, amplifying the tremors until cracks spread across the dais. A violent quake finally tipped the throne, and it crashed forward. Robert fell free, gasping, anger burning in his gut.
Electricity sparked at his fingertips as he glared at the throne's scorched frame. In one breath, he channeled lightning and flame, wrapping crackling coils around the twisted seat. He yanked it upward and smashed it to pieces. Broken shards scattered across the polished floor, revealing an orange crystal that skittered away.
Robert lunged and grabbed it, his heart pounding. A foul aura clung to it, and he heard a hiss, sharp and smug, whispering in his head. "Choose, intruder. Claim my power. Scatter my essence. Or go fuck yourself."
Robert's lips curled in disgust. "I'm not picking that," he muttered. With a sharp breath, he funneled its essence into STEVE, their logistical construct. The crystal dimmed, the Sanctum's anger fading to a lifeless whisper.
The chamber dissolved in a blur, and they reappeared in a quiet woodland clearing, a soft breeze rustling the leaves. The entire hoard lay at their feet, coins, bars, and jewels glinting like captured starlight.
Hamish hefted a stack of gold bars, his grin wide. "Look at this, lads! Enough to keep our village fed for years!"
Snow sifted through an ornate scroll, her voice bright with awe. "These healing runes are incredible—think of the lives we could save."
Chaucer spun a jewel-encrusted dagger between his fingers. "A blade fit for a legend," he said, tone exuberant. "I can practically hear my next ballad writing itself."
Langston, still flexing his altered wrist, turned over a chunk of orichalcum. "This is peak magitech."
Robert nodded, their excitement washing over him, and lifted an uncut jade pillar with care. The stone's chill sank into his arms. "It's all proof," he said quietly. "Proof we beat the odds."
Their cheers mixed with the forest's soft hush. Robert cleared his throat. "Okay, let's gather this properly."
Hamish elbowed him, a playful glint in his eye. "Oi, Robert, you're not gonna hoard all our gold in that fancy dimension of yours, are you?"
Robert chuckled, shaking his head. "Relax. I'll share."
Among the coins, a faintly pulsing skill crystal caught Robert's eye. Its hidden power called out, and he studied it with Moira's guidance, careful not to trigger anything dangerous. Knowledge flickered through his mind: Pocket Dimension Access, a personal 30-by-30-foot storage space tied to his mana.
"I keep forgetting I have this ability," Robert muttered, annoyed it wasn't second nature yet. With a mental nudge, he opened the dimensional space.
A swirl of magic swept up the gold, orichalcum, jade pillars, and other valuable items. Snow set aside gear for staff enhancements, while Hamish clutched his half-plate. Chaucer stood guard over a pair of skill crystals, cradling his new daggers.
Once the treasure was stored in the void, Robert exhaled. Two more crystals gleamed on the grass. Moira's voice guided him, hinting at their contents.
The first was Martial Arts, granting intermediate Judo proficiency with a path to mastery. The second was Surveying, analyzing land features and resources based on user stats. Temptation sparked, urging Robert to keep them, but he shook it off.
He turned to Chaucer. "Here," he said, handing him the Surveying crystal. "Could be useful for your journeys."
Chaucer's eyes lit up, whiskers twitching as he pressed the crystal to his chest. It melted into his skin, and he nearly danced with glee. "Oh my, Master Robert! The land is singing already… Wait, was that 'evil lotion'? No, evolution. Even better!"
Chaucer mumbled about cursed chalices and rare artifacts, pacing as Robert tried to explain the skill's practical value. Chaucer barely listened, lost in theatrical wonder.
Robert approached Snow next, offering the final crystal. "This one can reinforce your ability to cripple foes. Combine it with your magic."
Her expression softened, trusting but curious. "What exactly does it do?"
"I'll let you discover that," Robert said with a smile. "But it should enhance your techniques, and I know you'll put it to good use."
In that moment, Robert felt the weight of their shared trials: the dungeon, the Fae Queen's Sanctum, and the near-disasters they'd faced. Each trophy and skill was a mark of their survival.
No one spoke, but they all knew it was time to move as they started back toward Doras Dagda. Chaucer tapped an off-kilter tune on his new dagger, half singing about hidden kingdoms and orichalcum riches. Snow tested her water magic, flicking her fingers in small arcs, occasionally glancing at Langston with concern.
Hamish walked beside Robert, thoughtful, his half-plate resting neatly against his broad shoulders. He seemed more settled than usual, throwing Robert a quick grin, a silent thanks for sharing the spoils.
Langston trailed behind, his head low, eyes fixed on the biomechanical bracelet now fused to his right arm. Golden threads gleamed in the sunlight, shifting just beneath his skin like living circuits.
Robert heard him mutter curses, frustration sharp in every word. Langston fiddled with the device's micro-dials, like he was tuning a prototype only he understood, ignoring the path. The bracelet buzzed or pulsed at times, and he'd flinch, his mouth twisting into a grimace.
Langston paused by a crooked tree as they neared the forest's edge. He leaned against the trunk and twisted a dial. A soft hum ran up his arm, making him inhale sharply. "Are you trying to say something?" he whispered, his voice a quiet demand.
No answer came, but a faint thrum pulsed back, like a distant heartbeat only he could hear. Langston's knuckles whitened around the dial. "You're not alive, are you? Or are you… aware?"
Another pulse rippled through the wires, stronger now, and he cursed under his breath. He rubbed the spot where metal met flesh, the sight unsettling Robert, though he kept his distance, trusting Langston to handle it.
"Damn it," Langston grumbled. "If you want to communicate, do it clearly. Don't throw me half-baked signals."
No response came except another faint throb of energy. Langston exhaled hard, clearly wrestling with something inside. The group moved on, but Robert kept glancing back, half expecting sparks or a sudden breakdown.
Langston jogged to catch up, his eyes flickering with excitement and fear. He fiddled with the dials again, like tweaking a neural rig wired into his nerves. His face went slack for a moment, as if trying to tune into a broken radio frequency.
"Alright," Langston muttered under his breath, "we'll do this my way. You're not rewiring my brain. We're just… cooperating."
The one-sided talk was eerie, the bracelet glimmering in response, though no words passed that Robert could hear. Langston's thrill at the hybrid magic-science device was clear, but flickers of terror showed beneath his smug grin.
After a few quiet minutes, the path opened, revealing the distant spires of Doras Dagda. Soft sunlight lit the rooftops, glowing warm. Snow let her shoulders fall, tension melting for the first time all day.
Chaucer launched into a new verse about triumphant heroes returning with wealth beyond measure. Hamish rolled his eyes but gave Robert a fond look, the corner of his mouth curling. Robert let the chatter wash over him as he walked, reflecting on the day's chaos.
Langston lingered a moment, pressing a dial that answered with a faint hiss. He raised a brow, as if trying to tune into a broken radio frequency. Then he walked forward, thoughts racing.
"Looks like I've got a real edge now," he muttered, a hushed promise to himself. Something about that vow sent a shiver down Robert's spine, a mix of caution and concern.