The Shop Display:
Portable Hole
Blood Bucket
Natural Hair Dye Pills (10)
T-X Terminator
Dimensional Lance
Aleha – The Last of the Darkest Void Phoenix
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Nathan squinted at the floating list in front of him as he sat up on the couch, brushing crumbs off his shirt.
"Alright," he muttered, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. "Let's see what's in stock today."
[You appear interested in the first item,] Raphael noted.
"Yeah. You kidding? That portable hole is perfect for storing stuff. I could keep gear in there, snacks, extra clothes... maybe the Batmobile."
[Useful, but the listed price is currently vague. It depends on how rare the mineral is considered. We'll need to find it—or something equivalent. If you are intent on acquiring it, I suggest an alternative: one kilogram of vibranium.]
Nathan blinked. "Yeah, another trip to Wakanda."
"But only if I don't find something else."
His eyes trailed down the list and stopped at the next item.
"Blood Bucket? That's just creepy. And the price? My greatest secret? Broadcasted?"
[Technically, the price is to announce it to the largest media outlet you know. Which includes the internet. If I flood the post with enough fake 'greatest secrets,' conspiracy theories, and conflicting misinformation, the actual secret will be indistinguishable from the noise.]
Nathan gave that a moment of thought, then shook his head.
"Nah. You stay as my little secret forever. I'm not giving it up for a bucket of blood."
[....]
Next down: the dye pills.
"Ten grand for natural anime hair, huh."
[The cheapest item in the Shop. It may have no combat utility, but the cosmetic value and deception potential are notable.]
"Yup. Imagine the cosplay potential."
[I suppose you're more interested in using it on others.]
"Ohh... maybe I can also try white hair. Aren't all badass characters white-haired?" Nathan wondered.
They both paused at the T-X Terminator listing.
[This one is worth it. Highly adaptable, programmable, and armed. It can serve as a bodyguard, decoy, or even infiltrator if needed.]
Nathan nodded.
"Yup, definitely useful. Add it to the buy list. And order up the gold."
They both skimmed over the Dimensional Lance. No comment.
[We don't have access to a Tier-2 Kingdom, nor any interest in hunting Hellspawn.]
"Exactly. I'll pass."
That left only one item.
Nathan frowned at the last entry.
"Aleha. Still here. Still blocking my sixth slot."
[Indeed. She has occupied that slot for quite a while.]
"If she gave me like, a few hundred years of protection or something, I might actually consider it worth it."
Nathan leaned back, watching the soft flicker of the display as the timer slowly counted down.
"Alright. We'll get the dye pills and the Terminator. We'll hunt down something for the Hole. Skip the rest."
[Confirmed.]
The Shop faded out, leaving Nathan in the dim afterglow of cosmic consumerism.
He muttered to himself, "I swear, one day I'm charging rent for that sixth slot."
As Nathan browsed through the Shop in his mind with Raphael, Gwen slowly began to stir.
Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light of the room. It took her a moment to realize where she was—and more importantly, what she was resting on. Her head had somehow ended up in Nathan's lap during the night.
A blush immediately crept onto her face as she jerked upright, heart skipping a beat. "Wha—?!"
Jessica, who'd been lounging on the other couch with a bowl of something crunchy and unhealthy, muted the TV and turned to look at them, a mischievous glint in her eye.
"Well, well, Mr. Nathan Winterson," she said, adopting an overly serious tone. "You've been accused of double dating two beautiful women. How do you plead?"
Gwen raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. "Yeah, Nathan. Have you just been leading me on for nothing?"
The sudden shura field caught Nathan completely off guard. He blinked, trying to process both their expressions, then fumbled his words.
"Uh—well—I—it's not—look, I didn't—"
In truth, he hadn't actually planned for this moment. Somewhere deep in his status screen there were probably a few ridiculous blessings labeled something like Harem Protagonist Perk or God of Unwanted Romantic Tension.
Luckily, salvation arrived.
[They're both pulling your leg,] Raphael whispered dryly in his mind.
Nathan's brain finally rebooted. He took a deep breath and straightened his posture with mock seriousness.
"I plead guilty."
Jessica leaned forward with a wicked grin. "Is that so? Then maybe you need to be punished."
Before he could respond, she pounced, grabbing his wrists and binding them together with a quick flick of her bio-webs.
"There. That should hold you."
Gwen, still blushing, looked stunned. Clearly, she hadn't expected the teasing to escalate in this direction. Jessica had promised just a bit of light messing around—not light bondage.
"Jess—!" she said, eyes wide.
Jessica only winked. "What? He looks cute like this."
But before the mood could spiral into something truly chaotic, the doorbell rang.
Jessica let out a groan, her voice laced with disappointment.
"Seriously? Who rings the doorbell at this hour?"
Meanwhile, Nathan was still struggling with the makeshift web-cuffs.
"Okay—seriously—what are these made of?!"
A few moments later, Jessica returned to the living room—with company.
And not just any company.
"Lo and behold," Jessica said, stepping aside.
In walked Charmcaster.
She looked older than the last time Gwen had seen her, but the faint pink shimmer of mana around her hands was unmistakable.
Jessica raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two redheads.
"She says she knows you. Her energy's got that same weird magical vibe you give off, but judging by your reaction…"
Jessica trailed off as Gwen sprang up, both hands glowing with conjured mana disks, eyes locked on the newcomer.
Charmcaster raised both hands in a gesture of peace.
"Gwen, I'm not here to fight. I came to ask for help."
Gwen didn't lower her hands.
"Help?" Her voice was cold. "You show up at Nathan's house in the middle of the night and expect me to believe you're here for a chat?"
Charmcaster didn't flinch. Her expression was tired, shadowed with something that resembled desperation. "I wouldn't be here unless I had no other option."
Gwen's eyes narrowed. "You've lied to me before. You've used me before. Why should this time be any different?"
"Because this time… I need you."
Silence hung heavy in the room. Even Jessica turned serious, setting her bowl aside and watching carefully.
Charmcaster took a slow breath. "Hex is more powerful than I ever imagined. Stronger. Smarter. He's gone completely off the deep end. And I can't stop him on my own."
"You expect me to believe you can't take him?" Gwen asked. Her tone was skeptical, but a sliver of concern cracked through her guarded stance.
"I said he's stronger than me, not stronger than you," Charmcaster replied. "You've always had more raw power than I did. And now… you've got the Charms of Bezel."
That name hit like a soft bell tolling between them.
Gwen faltered for a moment, blinking as the familiar weight of the Charms hanging at her waist seemed heavier now.
Charmcaster continued, stepping forward just enough to lower her voice. "He's doing something—something dark. Ancient. I don't know what it is yet, but I know what it feels like. And if we don't stop him soon, it's going to spread."
Jessica looked between them, expression unreadable. Nathan—still bound—tilted his head.
Gwen didn't drop her guard, but the glow around her hands began to fade. "You're asking a lot."
"I know."
"You're lucky I haven't just blasted you out of the building."
"I know that too," Charmcaster said quietly. "But you're my only choice."
Gwen stood still for another long moment, eyes searching Charmcaster's face for signs of a trick or a lie. She found none—just a deeply tired mage holding herself together by sheer will.
Finally, Gwen sighed. "Alright. I'm listening."
Charmcaster exhaled slowly, as if she'd been holding her breath for hours.
"Good," she said. "Because you need to hear the whole story."
A Few Days Ago – Hex's Library Sanctum
Charmcaster stepped through the rusted gate that marked the boundary of her uncle's hidden estate. The runes etched into the old stones sparked faintly as she passed. It should've been comforting—Hex had taught her those wards himself—but something felt off. The symbols buzzed in her mind, wrong somehow, as if they'd been rewritten when she wasn't looking.
The manor itself was unchanged on the outside: cold marble, towering spires, the worn stone face of a gothic scholar's fortress. But the moment she stepped through the front doors, the air changed. It stank of magic—cloying, suffocating, chaotic. It twisted her senses. One second it felt like gravity was pulling her sideways, the next like the floor itself was pulsing underfoot.
She hadn't seen Hex in weeks. He'd vanished from their usual meeting grounds, left no astral messages, and even his scrying wards had gone silent. That wasn't like him. Hex was many things—stern, secretive, obsessively precise—but never careless.
The entrance hall led into the library, a great circular chamber lit by floating braziers. Books lined every wall, enchanted tomes stacked ten rows high, organized by languages no human mouth could pronounce. This had once been her sanctuary as much as his. But now?
The shelves had cracked and bled ink. The air thrummed with whispers.
She moved carefully, drawing on her mana to weave a faint protection ward around herself. It shivered at the edges—barely holding. Something was poisoning the ley lines here.
At the center of the room, near the altar where Hex often performed his larger rituals, she finally saw him.
He sat cross-legged on the cold marble floor, utterly still. Not meditating. Not resting.
Reading.
The book in his hands was wrong. She couldn't explain how, only that it looked alive—and in pain. Its flesh—yes, flesh—twitched with each turn of the page. It pulsed, like it was breathing. Its cover looked like it had been torn from something still screaming, blood weeping from its seams. Even the floor beneath it had stained deep red.
Hex himself had changed. His robes were darker, woven with some material that shimmered like oil and bone. His skin was pallid. His eyes—all three of them—were open.
The third eye, nestled in the center of his forehead, blinked slowly, a red slit like a serpent's. Blood oozed from it in slow trails down his cheeks.
Charmcaster froze, bile rising in her throat.
"Uncle…?"
The moment she spoke, the shadows near the walls moved.
They slithered.
Forms peeled away from the corners—humanoid shapes, but bent wrong. Crawling on too many limbs. Faces made of mouths. Magic warped into hunger.
They hissed—not with sound, but with intent. Pure, ravenous intent.
Charmcaster didn't hesitate. Her hand went to her charm pouch and slammed a silver rune into the floor. In a flash of crackling earth energy, a rock golem burst upward, roaring, fists ready.
The creatures lunged.
She fought like hell.
Stone met shadow. Her wards blazed bright, cutting through claws of darkness. The golem swung with crushing force, but for every creature smashed, another slithered through the cracks of reality itself.
She was panting, bleeding from the shoulder, already drained. "Hex!" she screamed, backing toward the exit. "What the hell have you done?!"
He didn't answer. He didn't even flinch. Just kept reading, like none of it mattered.
Just before the creatures overwhelmed her, she made her move. She hurled three decoy charms—blinding flash, false signature, and astral echo—and sprinted toward the high window near the upper rafters. The golem gave one last earthshaking stomp, buying her the second she needed.
She dove through the window, rolling across the roof tiles, then vanished in a shimmer of teleportation light.
When she reappeared in her safehouse, she collapsed to her knees.
Her heart was still pounding.
She didn't speak. Not for hours.
When her magic stabilized enough to try divination, she nearly lost herself to the backlash. Her vision flooded with bleeding symbols and the sound of screams that echoed across dimensions. She held the line. Barely.
From the madness, she pulled one word.
Demiurge.
And for the first time in a long, long while…
Charmcaster felt afraid.