Vert strode up close, grin wide.
"Come! We have much to discuss! Our escape plan!"
She grabbed Chess by the arm and tugged. Chess tried to resist for half a beat, then folded like a deck of cards.
"No way you're resisting," Vert said deadpan.
"Sorry," Chess squeaked, immediate and apologetic.
"Hey, I like a little resistance!" Vert laughed, marching him off.
Chess twisted his head back as Vert pulled him and hissed, "C-Cainan! I think I know why she's in here! Help! Do that move on her!"
Cainan said bluntly, "I got plenty moves. Which one are you referring too? The head crunch? Neck slash? Death chop? Neck twist?"
Noov crept forward with animal grace and sprang up beside Cainan, staring hard. Cainan blinked and muttered, "Uhhh…"
Noov leaned in and sniffed at the bramble binding Cainan. The little motion made Noov's nose bleed a trickle against his purple lashes; he wiped it with the back of a clawed hand, stepped back, flashed a toothy grin, and gave Cainan a thumbs-up before jabbering a short, one-word sentence to Vert, Chess and Park — broken, simple, like he was learning the world. "Hurt!"
Cainan's eyes widened. "Summons… from other worlds… like me? So I'm not the only one?" He flailed inside the vines, squirming. "AGH! Am I not the main character anymore?!" he yelled, half-playful panic.
He pivoted his glare up at Yübeel. "Let me out of here. You don't need to keep me hoisted in bramble like this. I'm not a baby."
Yübeel kept the tip of her scythe poised near his throat, voice flat. "If you were released and attacked me, I would be forced to thrash you. And you are a baby. With girl hair."
"Let me out and let's go at it for a round or two. No weapons. Just hands."
"You fail to comprehend what was said earlier by my husband, Primarch Valor," Yübeel replied, expression unreadable. "With our bodies and souls conjoined with the cursed relics, dark magic courses through us. It would be an unfair fight. So I'm dangerous even without my scythe. You, who challenged the Brain and died shortly after your summoning…you are a brave fool."
Vert called over with a shout, "Oi, summon! Come over here so we can discuss our plan! Can you let him go, please?!"
Yübeel nodded once, emotionless. "Seems they are ready to discuss the task at hand. Valor will be pleased they are focusing on taking down the Witch Mother, already conjuring a plan beforehand. I see why they were summoned."
In a blink, the bramble uncoiled and Cainan stumbled forward, he was free, legs weak for a breath as black pulses crawled up his veins; a crawling numbness that faded in seconds until the dark flicker died and his blood ran normal again. The knights squared themselves, hands on hilts, tension like wire.
Cainan stopped and slowly turned. Anger flared hot and close. He clenched a fist, his pupils dulling, imagining his sword plunging into Yübeel's face. He spat the thought out loud, low and venomous.
"Damn woman…letting me go was dumb—!"
Park's hand found Cainan's shoulder, soft and steady.
"Peace, Cainan," Park said, voice like wind through a temple.
Cainan's stare kept drifting back to Yübeel; he knew he was at a catastrophic disadvantage without understanding the Rune of Death. Still, the urge to fight clawed in him. He stepped forward, tension coiling to strike, but Park, who was calm and otherworldly, whispered that he should think before taking a fatal leap. The plea landed like cold water.
Something deeper clenched in Cainan's mind: the dream of being king. He pictured velvet, coins, halls full of people bowing—a throne as payback for every contract, every theft, every night he slept with one eye open.
He'd stolen and killed to survive and take so he wouldn't ever lose again due to fate; now the promise of a crown made every risk and every moment of fear taste like possibility. The thought of dying before he ever sat in that seat, before he could prove he'd taken something for himself and held it stopped his hand mid-motion. He didn't want to die before feeling what it was to own something true. The dream of not being empty for once kept him rooted.
He ground his teeth, voice low and steady:
"I'll get you when your back is turned. Bitch."
Yübeel said nothing; her bangs hid her eyes, but the scythe didn't waver.
Cainan walked to the group, and Chess, Vert, Noov, and Park sat cross-legged with them.
"So what's the plan?" Cainan asked. "What do we know about witches here? I suppose you people have been here longer than me. I'm still new here, so I don't know much of everything."
Vert practically vibrated. "The plan, my summoned friend!"
On the floor, carved into the stone with a nail and sweat, were crude stick figures and arrows; Noov's claws and Vert's impatience had made a battlefield map.
Vert jabbed at the pictures. "So our plan for the task… our escape!"
Cainan and Chess exchanged startled looks, thrown off balance. Chess blurted, "I—I thought we were gonna discuss our mission? To kill the Witch Mother?"
Noov barked one sharp word: "Witch Mother..!" — a single, fierce sound.
Park closed his gloved hands and spoke with quiet faith, "We have been… working on this. Now we have enough. We can make it happen." His tone was tranquil, like a man announcing weather. "We can rally and leave this horrid prison of the enemy.."
Vert pointed at the stick men like a general. "Hell yeah! So here's the plan! Plan 1: cause a distraction. Plan 2: kill the guards and dress up as them. Plan 3: easy walk out of here." She jabbed each step with a finger, grinning wildly.
Yübeel hovered close, watching the crude map. She said bluntly, "The last plan you conjured was superior to this. There is no hope for you in that plan." Her voice carried faint judgment but no mockery. "You will continue being fodder for the brain."
Vert groaned and tossed her head. "Fuck..that! Ugh! I'm tired of doing monster hunting for you people!" She jabbed the air with an impatient finger. "I'm done with being a dog. And I won't be some Primarch!"
Cainan leaned in, intrigued despite himself. "You guys said you were summons. From where?"
Noov made another one-word sound, teeth flashing, "Worhol! World!"
Vert crossed her arms and smirked, while Park simply closed his eyes and breathed, ready to explain, calm and centered.
Vert suddenly stood up, eyes wild with memory. "Alright, story time," she said, cracking a grin that didn't quite hide the shadow behind her eyes. "Let me tell you how I got stuck in this world."
Her voice shifted, softer, dreamlike.
–––
(FLASHBACK)
It was the old days. A little two-story house in a clean, bright suburb, the kind where every mailbox shined and every hedge was trimmed like clockwork. The radio hummed with oldies jazz, gentle trumpets and strings winding through the air.
A small black-and-white TV flickered in the corner of the living room, showing an automaton newscaster, his head a chrome box with polite, painted eyes and a speaker-mouth, announcing, "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen! A bright and sunny day in Harmony Hills! Don't forget your hats and your smiles!"
Vert, or Vernetta, as she was known then, came stepping down the staircase, her hair long and golden-brown, bouncing in curls. She wore a neat powder-blue dress that fit her like the summer sky, pearls on her wrist, and a soft, content smile.
Her husband sat on the couch in his crisp gray suit, brown hair slicked back to perfection, coffee steaming in hand, and a small tube-like machine on the floor next to him, and tubes coming from it and attached to his arms. He turned at the sound of her heels on the wood.
"Darling! Your coffee is ready!" he said warmly, but moving slowly due to body pain.
"I'm coming, my love!" she called back, the kind of sweetness that lived only in those old, perfect mornings.
She reached the bottom step, brushed her husband's cheek with a kiss, and took her cup. One sip, and she made a mock grimace.
"Hmmm, it's so horrible!" she said playfully.
"Just the way you like it, honey!" he replied with a proud grin.
The record player in the corner kept turning; smooth brass, a woman's voice humming in the background, and Vernetta swayed gently with it. "Did you grab the mail from outside, dear?"
He blinked, then laughed, tapping his forehead with a finger. "Oh! I forgot! Silly me! Been trying to motivate myself to move around! Pretty hard, haha."
"I know you said you wanted to make yourself more active, dear. Don't want you going all out until you feel better, getting the paper is just enough for you for now."
Before she could move, he took her hand, standing, still holding his cup. "Vernetta, my bride, dance with me before I head to the office."
She smiled, soft but insistent. "I really want to, but I need to grab our stuff before our neighbor's automatons accidentally grab it again!"
She walked to the front door, humming along to the music, and opened it to a sun-drenched street full of perfect pastel houses. Automatons trundled along the sidewalks carrying groceries and newspapers, their brass frames reflecting the light. Women in patterned dresses waved to each other; children chased metal dogs down the curb. It was peaceful, and absurdly neat.
Then Vert's eyes narrowed. Down the street, one of the automatons—boxy and silver, its arms full of envelopes, was strolling off with her mail.
She sighed, smiling still. "Of course…"
Before the thief-machine could reach its owner's porch, a massive spiked hammer, its head crackling faintly with red electrical currents, came down like a meteor and smashed the automaton to smoking scrap. Steam hissed from the crater it left.
Vert lifted the hammer with one hand, slinging it onto her shoulder, and said sweetly, "Please stop stealing, haha."
The door of a nearby house burst open. Out stepped a woman in a red dress and curled blonde hair, pearls and perfume heavy in the air.
Music was playing from inside, violins, laughter, radio chatter. "Oh, it's you, that soldier!" the woman said with a small laugh. "This is the fifth automaton of mine you've destroyed! They cost a fortune in crowns!"
Vert crouched, picking up her mail, still smiling. "Hello! I didn't see you there! But another one, Mrs. Cramby. You guys really are rich!"
Her husband jogged up beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay, darling?"
"I'm fine—" she started to say with a smile. "Too much running, dear. I told you not to do so much."
But the sound around them changed.
Someone pointed skyward. "What is that?!"
"I've never seen a truck like that!" another voice cried.
Vert and her husband both looked up, and there it was. A massive delivery truck, sleek and foreign, plummeting nose-first from the clouds. Its headlights spun like eyes, the grill twisted into a warped grin.
Vert smile faltered. "Oh come on!"
CRASH.
–––
The world snapped back. The prison's dim torches flickered. Dust fell from the ceiling.
Yübeel stood silent, arms crossed, blank as stone.
Chess's jaw hung open.
Noov was scratching patterns into the floor with a claw, muttering nonsense syllables.
Park had both hands together, eyes closed in prayer as if for the fallen.
Cainan groaned, clutching his head. "AGH! That damned truck! It got me too!"
Vert nodded with grave conviction. "That murdering piece of shit!"
Cainan leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at Vert. "Your husband was hit too, right?"
Vert's lip twitched, the faintest crack in her usual loud composure, but she forced a grin that barely held steady. "Yeah. Yeah! Of course!" she said, nodding quickly, the brightness in her tone almost manic. "But I know he's here! He's gotta be! The mystery galaxy man said so!"
Cainan blinked, studying her face, there was something in her eyes that didn't match the cheer in her voice. But he just exhaled through his nose and leaned back against the stone wall. "Yeah. The galaxy man. I spoke with him a few times. He wanted me to kill the brain. Because I carry some Rune of Death."
Noov suddenly perked up, crouched like an animal, eyes wide. "Rune!" he said with excitement, the word dragging out of him like a bark.
Park, still sitting in quiet prayer beside the wall, tilted his helmeted head. His voice came soft and low, like it floated through water. "Oh? He hones a rune of power? Who summoned you?"
"Kalhalla," Cainan replied, smirking faintly. "Do you summons not have anything badass like I do?"
Vert put both hands on her hips. "Nope!"
Park replied serenely, "Only our magic."
Cainan let out a long breath of mock relief. "Good. I'm still the main character."
Vert laughed, standing tall and flicking her wrist. "Hold on now, at least I can pull my weapons out in here!" She raised her sawed-off gun, red currents flickering along its barrel as it shifted and groaned, reshaping itself into a massive spiked hammer, then back again to a gun, over and over, each switch accompanied by a crackling pulse of red energy.
Cainan turned toward Yübeel, pointing accusingly at Vert. "Oi! She's got her weapon out! Get her. Bind her like you did me."
Yübeel's calm, hollow voice drifted through the air. "Putting a collar on her would cause mental disarray. I prefer to keep her stable until the mission."
Vert gave a proud, defiant grin, but her eyes softened when she spoke. "My husband made my weapons. Augments connected inside my body. If I lose them… or if they get taken…" Her voice wavered just slightly, and she clenched her fist before turning away.
Chess shifted awkwardly, noticing the unease in her eyes. "S-So, uh… how did you get summoned here, Park?"
Meanwhile Noov had crawled toward Cainan, sniffing close to his arm. "Warrior…" he muttered.
Cainan slid sideways, eyes wide. "Get your nose off me, fiend."
Park's voice cut through the moment, calm and distant. "The same way."
–––
(Flashback — Park's Summoning)
The stars stretched like an ocean of light, quiet and eternal. Park floated in the endless dark, his white astronaut suit gleaming, the curve of a distant planet far below. Around him were hundreds of floating homes that domed and mechanical, connected by thin glowing roads, ships humming gently through the vacuum like insects in a slow ballet.
He drifted above it all, hands clasped together. His voice echoed in his helmet, reverent. "Dear stars, how close am I to gaining a body? Speak to me, please. Obscuring myself in this suit… it's fanatical. Speak to me, oh stars…"
His head tilted as though listening to something unseen. The galaxy around him pulsed faintly. "I hear you…" he whispered, trembling. "I hear you!"
He turned to his left and there, floating through the void, headlights burning like suns, came a truck. The same white metal beast, roaring silently through space, chrome fangs glinting.
Park spread his arms, accepting fate. "I hear you, oh stars! An unknown vehicle approaches, surely it is you—!"
SMACK!
–––
The memory faded. Park now sat silently in the cell, still in his space suit, hands folded neatly in his lap.
Cainan stared at him with pure disbelief, then stood, grabbed him by the collar, and pulled him up. "You fool! Why would you let it hit you? You think praying to some stars will summon a truck to talk to you?!"
Chess, sweating bullets, flailed his hands. "Cainan, uh… I think he learned his lesson—!"
Vert was on the floor laughing so hard she was clutching her stomach, her voice echoing through the cell. "HAHA! THAT'S WHAT I SAID!"
Noov crouched nearby, eyes gleaming, whispering eagerly, "Fight!"
Park kept his posture calm, hands still pressed together. "I regret it now," he said gently. "But perhaps here, in this strange world, I can gain a body. No longer must this suit be my conduit. I wish to only hear the stars again. But they have been silent. I cannot walk alone like this for long."
Cainan frowned and tugged at the collar in frustration, and by accident, the helmet came loose.
Everyone froze. Inside the suit was nothing. No body, no flesh, no face. Only black emptiness, swirling faintly with a red mist like a dying shattered star.
Chess squealed and stumbled backward. "H-He's—he's—!"
Cainan leaned forward with a dry expression. "I'm used to seeing people without heads because of my last contracts, but this…" He paused, squinting. "…This is new."
Vert crawled up next to the suit, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. She leaned down and actually stuck her head slightly into the helmet's opening. "Ohhhh cool!"
Park's voice came sharp, for once, as he snatched the helmet back into place. "Please do not stick your head in. If you fall, you are gone forever. It's an abyss."
Vert blinked, pulling her head back with a sheepish grin. "Oh. Neat."
Noov crept up behind Cainan, and sniffed him—
THWACK!
Cainan's grip tightened around Noov's neck, his eyes narrowing with that irritated, half-amused scowl that never quite left his face. The fiend kicked his feet helplessly in the air, claws flailing, the rasp of his breathing sharp against the cold stone floor.
"So, who's the fiend?" Cainan barked, looking over the others. "Bastard keeps sniffing me."
Noov's throat gurgled. "Smell…"
Vert leaned in, inspecting him like a curious scientist, her red eyes glinting. "Hmm, I don't know. He is a little odd. Maybe he wants to eat us?"
Chess froze, voice breaking into a squeak. "Eat us?! Cainan, please don't let him eat me."
Cainan didn't blink. "If he's hungry and wants to eat you, let him chew off an arm or something. Everyone needs food for strength, so we need to be at our best if we plan to escape this hell-hole."
Noov flailed his arms in panic. "No! No eating!"
Cainan dropped him like trash, rubbing his wrist with a sigh.
'They're all strange. I fit right in with these people. The fact that they're summons like me changes shit too. That galaxy man, Camelot, it just shows me he was mass murdering people in that strange white truck. People in this world were actually summoning, is it some kind of practice known around this world? Camelot said I was the last summon, I guess that means he oversaw it or… I don't know. It's all confusing. I just wanna hurry up and be king. I keep putting the idea of killing the brain second to that. Sitting on a throne….it still feels like this is supposed to be someone else's life. I know I don't deserve this shit. But I got it anyway. I wanted something like this. But what's gonna be my price for all I've done? There's always some crappy aftermath with my situations. Something this grand, something unlucky has got to come with it like always, right?'
Vert's voice cut through his thoughts. "So, you. How did you end up here?"
"Same exact way," Cainan said, stretching his shoulders. "My world had guns and plasma blades and all that. Robots, prisons and more prisons and cats and assassins and—anyway, I'd just broken out of confinement. That damned white truck was chasing me down like I owed it something."
Vert nodded, tapping her chin. "The Rite of Summoning. That's what I found out it was."
"Go ahead and tell me about it."
Park spoke with that calm, steady tone that always felt like prayer. "Since being here for almost a year, I've learned the Rite of Summoning is a ritual only high-status nobles can perform. It's their bloodline that permits it. They prepare a ritual and some unknown deity will catch wind of it, and royals ask for a champion, and the deity answers their call. That's all I know."
Vert added, "I was summoned to fight on the frontlines of a war against warped humans. My kingdom was terrified of that brain thing that kept appearing in the sky. They closed off trade routes, panicked. I tried to escape plenty of times, but I couldn't just waltz around a new world looking for my husband while having no knowledge of what's going on. So I stayed. Fought for them to gain intel and experience. But my husband is still my main goal."
Cainan leaned forward. "What does the brain have to do with these warped humans?"
Chess answered softly, "The brain controls the fate of the dead. When someone dies, their soul's taken somewhere unknown and a warped grotesque form of theirs comes back. Mindless, soulless. They cause havoc everywhere. I'm surprised you haven't seen one yet, Cainan."
He scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, I haven't. I came here butt naked in the middle of Kalhalla fighting Stroheim. Since we're on this topic, what else can the brain do?"
Yübeel's blank stare lingered on them, silently allowing the conversation to run its course.
Vert exhaled, crossing her legs. "The brain keeps everyone from getting stronger. Magic, power…it's all capped now. Sucks, doesn't it?"
Chess added, frowning, "Newborns are unlucky. They are born weak, doomed to stay that way. And those born before the brain appeared can't grow in power anymore either."
Noov's voice rumbled, eyes twitching. "Kill brain."
Cainan nodded slowly. "Is that why everyone's obsessed with runes and rune shards? Since they can't grow, they're going insane trying to steal power."
Vert smirked. "Yep! Greedy bastards are just trying to survive. Not always in the best ways. Some kingdoms will slaughter whole towns just to find them."
Chess's tone dropped. "Like the elves… They're so rare now. Some of them wield magic no one's ever seen before. They're so cool."
"Hey, focus," Cainan snapped. "I don't care about elves. I care about the brain. I need to know everything about it before I slice it in half like a fucking apple."
Then Yübeel's calm, cold voice finally broke the room's rhythm. "It's time to go."
Every head turned toward her.