Cassius stepped out of the building and turned left, following the receptionist's directions. The mission hall loomed ahead taller, older, wrapped in a cold stone elegance that whispered danger. He walked inside, handed his guild card and mission paper to the receptionist. She read it, eyes widening for a split second before she masked it with professional calm and returned his documents.
"Thank you," he said, confused but letting it go. He was here for the teleportation gate.
As he walked, the mission description on the paper flickered and updated:
Mission: Missing Expedition Retrieval
Location: Northern Winter Expanse
Details: Three days ago, a sanctioned guild expedition team was sent to chart a ruin uncovered by a sudden icequake. They haven't returned. All communication has ceased. Retrieve survivors. Recover any artifacts or notes.
Warning: Ruin is believed to predate the current era. Unknown resonance field detected. Approach with extreme caution.
Recommended Rank: B or higher
Accepted by: Cassius Valerius
Cassius' eyes narrowed. He stepped back to the front desk.
"Is there any gear you recommend for this one?"
The woman nodded. "Take a right down the hall. Through the double doors. You'll see the gear room."
He followed the hall into a grand armory packed with racks of weapons, armor, and artifacts. Swords suspended in anti-grav fields. Cloaks that shimmered with rune-ink. But before he could absorb the scope of it, he bumped into another reception desk.
The clerk grunted. "First time? Don't answer that. It's obvious. What're you here for?"
Cassius handed him the mission scroll.
The clerk skimmed it, whistled. "Oh, Winter Expanse. Brutal. Follow me."
He led Cassius to a display of insulated gear: blackened fur-lined coats with silver-thread embroidery, heat-retentive boots with clawed traction soles, gloves that flexed like armor. The hood was massive, wolf-like, with layered fabric beneath to keep wind and snow out. All custom-forged.
Cassius eyed the price tag. "I assume that costs a fortune."
"One gold coin. But we have pa--"
Cassius dropped a coin on the counter.
The man blinked, grinned, pocketed it.
"Right. Let's get you armed, too. What're your weapon types?"
"Longsword. Bow."
The clerk tilted his head. "You planning to carry both? Unless you're spatial-type... Wait, are you?"
Cassius thought of the demon. His silence stretched.
"Hello?"
"No."
"Then take a look at this."
He held out a small orb with swirling metal bands around it.
"Artifact weapon converter. Channel your resonance into it, and it lets you summon any weapon you've bonded with. You can swallow it, or just absorb it through your hand."
Cassius asked, already dreading the number. "How much?"
"Ten gold."
He coughed, almost stumbled. That was two-thirds of everything he brought.
But he paid. Quietly. The clerk just nodded with a smirk.
"Commitment. I like it. Changing rooms are right there."
Cassius changed. The cold gear was stifling indoors. He stripped down to his underclothes, black shirt clinging to him with sweat. He stepped out, hair damp, pushing it back from his eyes. He absorbed the orb. At first, nothing. He summoned a sword. Nothing. Tried again.
Click.
The blade materialized. Heavy. Solid.
The clerk whistled. "Don't you look beautiful."
Cassius gave him a deadpan look. Scoffed. Smirked.
He handed the clerk his old shirt and pants. "Hold onto these."
"You got it. Cassius, right?"
He nodded, grabbed his mission paper, and returned to the front desk.
"Where's the teleporter for B-rank missions?"
The woman pointed to a door left of her. He sighed.
Another hallway.
He opened it and stepped inside.
"Paper and card," the technician inside said. Cassius handed them over. The mission burned to ash in the man's hand, a sign of full acceptance.
Cassius stepped onto the platform. He had time to notice the runes carved into the stone, and he recognized one. Old, but familiar. A formula. Something from a book...
"When does it s—"
He vanished.
The world was flipped upside down. Cassius fell from the sky, crashing into the snow face-first.
Ice filled his mouth. He coughed, stood, and pulled his hood over. Around him: endless white. Mountains, trees, and silence.
He wandered. After some time, he spotted a staircase plunging into the snow.
He rushed toward it and summoned his sword.
At the edge of the stone steps, he paused.
"Why do subplane missions exist?" He thought.
Monsters were real, sure. But most of them didn't touch the civilized world. Most never would. Subplanes weren't just battlegrounds; they were quarantined tombs, testing grounds, and bargaining chips. His father once said the king traded with other worlds. Resources for protection.
"How much of the world have I never seen?" He wondered. "How much do I not know?"
He didn't know what to think, so he just pushed the thought aside.
**
He descended.
The light faded.
He reached for a torch, but he hadn't brought one.
He cursed under his breath. Still, he pushed forward. Trusted instinct.
Far ahead, a faint orange glow.
A torch sat in a metal sconce. Flickering. Undisturbed.
Cassius reached for it, hesitated.
His fingers wrapped around the shaft.
He pulled it free.
The fire hissed. The air changed.
The silence wasn't silence anymore. It was listening.
Cassius froze.
Footsteps echoed. Not his own. Behind him.
He spun... nothing. Just black stone and old frost.
He turned back.
Bodies lined the walls.
Dozens. Preserved. Their expressions warped in terror so absolute it didn't feel human. Mouths stretched open far too wide. Hands shredded from clawing at the walls.
He backed up, torch shaking.
The flames began to sputter.
The resonance in his chest stirred, like a parasite waking up.
Then he heard it.
A whisper.
"He sees you now."
Cassius stopped breathing.
His vision warped. The walls bled shadows. The staircase behind him was gone.
Only one direction remained.
He walked, trembling. The hallway had wrong angles that shouldn't exist. His torch cast two shadows.
One was his.
The other watched him.
Then a voice his voice, whispered right beside his ear:
"You're not real."
He turned, and standing behind him was himself.
Not a mirror. A version. A reflection twisted in every way that mattered. Its smile was wide. Eager.
And its eyes leaked black light.
The torch went out.