Oboe stood in front of me, arms crossed, his green eyes unreadable. He hadn't said much that morning, but now, as the others packed up camp, he finally spoke.
"Step one to becoming a dimension hopper is having a body that can endure any environment."
Before I could ask what he meant, he turned, picked up a massive, overstuffed pack, and dropped it onto my shoulders.
The weight slammed down on me like a boulder. My knees nearly buckled, and I gasped as my body strained against the sudden burden. My arms ached just trying to adjust the straps, and the weight pressed into my ribs like it was trying to bury me alive.
I gritted my teeth. What the hell?
Oboe watched me struggle but didn't step in to help. "If you want to find your sister, carrying a bag is the least of your problems."
I clenched my jaw, my fingers tightening around Chime's pendant.
He was right.
I forced my legs to steady. My arms trembled, my shoulders screamed in protest, but I refused to fall.
With a shaky breath, I took my first step forward.
Every day blurred into an endless march.
Every muscle in my body ached. My shoulders burned from carrying the pack, my legs felt like they belonged to someone twice my age, and every night I collapsed onto the hard ground, too exhausted to even think.
But I never complained.
I watched the others—the way they moved, the way they conserved their strength. Oboe never wasted a single movement. Drum walked like his body was made of stone, sturdy and unfaltering. Even Banjo, chubby as he was, paced himself in a way that made it clear he wasn't new to this kind of life.
I started copying them.
By the third day, I could walk without stumbling.
By the fifth, I adjusted the pack without wincing.
By the sixth, the pain didn't matter anymore.
"You're Not the Only One Who Lost a Home" One evening, as we rested by the dying embers of a campfire, Oboe sat across from me, sharpening one of his weapons. He glanced up, studying me like he was weighing something in his head.
"You think you're the only one who's lost everything?" His voice wasn't harsh, but it wasn't gentle either.
I stiffened.
"When the void hit your village," he continued, "we found you in the wreckage. But it wasn't the void that took our homes."
I stared at him.
"Lute's village collapsed into a dimensional rift. One day, it was there. The next, it was gone."
Lute, who had been sharpening her daggers, paused. Her silver-dyed hair caught the firelight as she gave a small, distant nod.
"Drum's hometown got merged with something from another dimension. The people there… weren't the same afterward."
Drum said nothing, but the way his fingers clenched told me all I needed to know.
"Piccolo?" Oboe said, nodding toward the wiry scavenger. "He watched his city break apart in the sky. Ripped into floating islands."
Piccolo let out a dry chuckle, scratching at his arm. "Ever seen a river start flowing upwards? Real eerie stuff."
Oboe leaned forward, his voice low. "This is what happens when dimensions shatter. The void isn't the only thing to be afraid of."
I swallowed hard.
For days, I had told myself that no one could understand what happened to me. That I was alone in this.
But… I wasn't.
The others had lived through their own nightmares, just as I had, they were travelling scavengers for a reason, no home to go to.
I looked down at Chime's pendant. I couldn't let myself lose sight of why I was here. I still had something to fight for.
After nearly a week of traveling, we reached the outskirts of a dark, tangled forest. At its edge lay a fracture in the earth—a place where the world itself looked like it had been torn apart.
The air shimmered, distorted as if reality itself was bending. The ground was cracked and uneven, jagged fissures pulsing with molten lava. The heat rolled off the broken landscape, warping the air like a mirage.
But what really made my stomach churn were the creatures.
They stood at the edges of the fractures, their dark, cracked skin glowing faintly with heat. Their eyes burned like embers, and in their clawed hands, they carried weapons that pulsed with molten energy.
Demons.
The sight of them made my blood run cold.
I saw flashes in my mind—the void beasts, crawling from the darkness, their eyes gleaming, their bodies shifting like liquid shadow. My breath hitched. For a moment, I felt like I was back there, in my village, watching as my home burned and my family was torn away—
No.
I squeezed my eyes shut, clutching my pendant until my knuckles turned white.
They're not the same.
I forced my breathing to slow. Focus. This wasn't my village. The void beasts weren't here.
"These fractures aren't as valuable as celestial shards," Oboe said, his voice pulling me back to reality. "But they've still got loot. We scavenge these sites, sell what we find. That's how we survive."
He turned to me. "Stay here. Watch and learn."
I crouched behind a boulder, watching as the group moved like shadows.
Oboe struck first.
He lunged at the nearest demon, claws ripping through molten flesh. Banjo followed, his heavy blade cleaving through another.
The demons fought back.
Flashes of molten fire shot through the air. Lute twisted, dodging a shot just in time. Drum slammed his fist into the ground, sending up a wave of dust that blinded their enemies.
Then, without warning—
The earth rumbled.
A sudden eruption of lava exploded from the cracked ground, spraying molten rock in all directions.
"Move!" Oboe roared.
The scavengers dodged back, barely escaping. Banjo yelped as a stray ember seared across his arm. Piccolo cursed, rolling out of the way as another blast nearly caught him.
My breath caught in my throat.
I gripped my pendant so tight it hurt, my whole body frozen. For a split second, my instinct screamed at me to run.
But then I saw it—
Oboe wasn't panicking.
Neither were the others.
They weren't afraid. They were adapting.
Even with the sudden explosion, they adjusted, shifting their tactics without hesitation. Oboe barked new orders, and just like that, the fight continued.
I let out a slow breath.
I wasn't ready. I wasn't strong.
But I wanted to be.
When the last demon fell, the gang regrouped. Their clothes were singed, their weapons covered in soot, but they were grinning.
Oboe looked at me.
"This is what we do," he said. "One day, if you stay with us, you'll be strong enough to do the same."
I met his gaze.
For the first time since my village fell, I knew exactly what I needed to do.
"I want to stay."
Oboe nodded.
And just like that, my journey truly began