Jester materialized back in his bedroom. The familiar scent of worn blankets and citrus air freshener were a stark contrast to the fresh earthy smell of Toonworld Dungeon. The realm he had just left.
His hour in the vibrant Toonworld had concluded. He was Jester again. Back in Sherra, the mundane world of real dangers and limited comic relief. But tonight, the world felt anything but mundane.
He sat up from bed. His fingers immediately reached into his system inventory. Taking out a glowing object. The [Hearthstone].
It glowed faintly in his palm. It felt solid, real, and infinitely more exciting than any trinket he had ever held back on Earth. The description flashed once again through his mind.
[A unique object that can be used to instantly teleported the wielder to a pre-designated 'home' location, which can be freely set at any suitable safe point.]
And the crucial detail... [The Hearthstone cannot be used for cross-realm teleportation.]
Too bad. Cross-realm teleportation would have been incredibly useful. But it was reasonable. Even when he went to Toonworld, he still had to use an avatar. He didn't think his real body could survive in that crazy world. At least, not now.
But even for his own world, Sherra, the [Hearthstone] was game-changing. He looked around his modest bedroom. The worn rug. The bookshelf. The familiar wooden desk. The sturdy wardrobe stuffed with his clothes.... This was his safe point. His 'home'.
With a focused thought, Jester willed the [Hearthstone] to register his room as its 'home' point. A faint sparkling sound emanated from the orb. And a soft white light enveloped it for a moment before fading.
He looked at his System Panel. The appraisal of the [Hearthstone] showed one more entry...
[Home location (Sherra): Jester Eventide's Bedroom.]
He grinned. A wide, unreserved grin. This wasn't just a utility tool. It was a lifeline. If he ever found himself in a bind, cornered by a monster, or caught in a bad situation, he could just 'poof' himself back here.
No more frantic dashes. No more desperate last stands.
Just a quick, convenient escape. Of course, the 'daily cooldown' was a buzzkill. But even once a day was still a colossal advantage.
He slipped the [Hearthstone] back into his inventory. A giddy excitement was bubbling in his chest. He could sleep soundly tonight. The knowledge of his new escape skill was a comforting blanket for his rest.
...
Friday arrived. Jester's morning routine before school hadn't changed. Physical exercise. Bath. Breakfast.
His school's morning subject was different though. The mundane civics and math lessons were replaced by a more pressing subject matter.
Jester, Vale, and all of their classmates who had awakened their Soulheart Gear, assembled in the main auditorium.
Presiding over them was none other than Headmaster Cyantrace herself. A woman whose stern yet fair demeanor brought great respect from the students. She was also known to have a sharp intellect. The smartest woman in the entire city.
"Today..." Her voice boomed. "We will move beyond the mundane knowledge. We will discuss the reality of the world you are about to enter as Transcenders. You need to understand... the world outside these walls is not merely a place of opportunity. But a battlefield."
Jester leaned forward. Seriously paying attention to the lesson. This was it. The real, confidential knowledge. Taught only for the Transcenders. Those who could wield Soulheart Gear with at least one star power.
"Our world, Sherra..." Ms. Cyantrace continued. Her gaze was sweeping across the assembled teenagers. "... faces three primary threats. They are the bane of our existence. The reason for the existence of Transcenders like us."
She projected a clear display onto the wall behind her. Three distinct symbols appeared.
"First!" She announced. Pointing to one symbol. A black swirling vortex. "The Mystical Dungeons. These appeared in our world since the Point of Convergence, about seven century ago. Scattered across our land like malignant growths. From within them emerge… Monsters."
The display shifted. Showing a monstrous, multi-limbed creature with razor-sharp claws. Jester recognized the type from some of the less detailed historical accounts.
"These are creatures born of raw, untamed mystical energy. They are inherently hostile. Driven by primal instinct to destroy and consume." Ms. Cyantrace explained.
"However..." Headmaster Cyantrace's tone softened slightly. "Not all that emerges from Dungeons is hostile. Some larger, more stable Dungeons may harbor Outsiders. Creatures who, while alien, possess a degree of sentience. Interaction with Outsiders is risky. But it can yield invaluable knowledge or resources."
She paused. Letting the concept sink in.
Then, she continued. "The primary danger of Mystical Dungeons, beyond the monsters they spawn inside, is the risk of 'overflow'."
Jester had never heard that term used in this world. But, from the wealth of fictions he had read in his previous life, he could guess the meaning.
"If not properly contained and managed..." The headmaster continued. "They can spill their energies and their inhabitants into our world. Causing widespread destruction and chaos. Thus, Dungeon management and neutralization are some of the greatest responsibilities for Transcenders."
Jester nodded. Just as he expected.
Next, a sickly green symbol of smoke appeared. "Second!" Headmaster Cyantrace said. Her voice adopted a chilling edge. "Undeath Energy. This is a potent, corrupting force. Alien to Sherra's natural life cycle. It animates the dead and twists the very essence of souls."
The display revealed two distinct images. One was a shambling, decaying corpse. Its eyes were glowing with malevolent green light. The other was a faint, translucent form. Its features were blurred. But it looked sorrowful.
"Undeath Energy gives rise to two primary threats. First, the Undead Creatures..." Ms. Cyantrace indicated the zombie-like figure. "These are the corpses of the deceased. Animated and driven by the vile energy. They are mindless, driven solely by their predatory programming."
Jester had known about that. It was the reasons people in Sherra preferred cremation over burial for their dead.
"The second threat are Ghosts." She pointed to the spectral image. "These are the corrupted souls of those who have died. Unlike Undead Creatures, Ghosts can possess a level of sentience."
She paused. And continued. "Some are mere echoes of their former selves, driven by lingering emotions, while others retain their intellect and personality. Their disposition can range from melancholic and harmless to outright hostile and vengeful."
Jester shivered slightly. The idea of a vengeful ghost was far more unsettling than a ravenous zombie. At least with a zombie, you knew what you were dealing with. And you could beat them with weapons.
Finally, a crimson sigil. Intricate and disturbing. It dominated the display.
"And third, the most insidious threat: Demon Invasion." The headmaster said in cold voice.
The students stirred. Demon invasions were not the stuff of legends for them. They were still whispered about in hushed tones. The hated subject of desperate prayers.
Their town had been targeted by these demons several times. The most current one was just a few days ago. In Market District. The appearance of these demons were just as unpredicted as the the Mystical Dungeons.
But Ms. Cyantrace's next words shattered their preconceived notions.
"Many believe Demons simply appear in Sherra, crashing through dimensional barriers. This is a misconception. Demons, in their purest form, cannot simply manifest here. They require an invitation. They enter Sherra through meticulously performed Contract Rituals."
The room fell silent. The implication was staggering. Humans, their own kind, were actively inviting these invaders. Traitors.
"These rituals..." Ms. Cyantrace's voice was hard and cold. "... are initiated by individuals driven by a multitude of dark motivations. Desperate hatred, blinding ambition, sheer cruelty, or a profound emptiness that craves destruction."
She sighed. "These individuals, in their pursuit of power or revenge, make pacts with these entities, opening portals for them to enter our world."
The display broke down into classifications. First was silhouette of a man and a woman.
"Those who initiate these rituals are known as Contractors. They are often the first to fall victim to their own bargains. Their humanity eroded by their pacts. Or they make a mistake in the rituals, and are killed by the demons they summoned."
The headmaster looked at them with serious expression. "If they survive, they are deemed the traitors of humanity. And the sentence for this crime is just one... death."
Jester gritted their teeth. He wouldn't hesitate to kill these Contractors. His parents and sibling in this world died because of this kind of people after all.
The display on the wall changed. It was now the pictures of several types of demons.
"Then there are the Demons themselves – the summoned entities, inherently malevolent and destructive." Ms. Cyantrace explained.
She paused. And quickly continued. "Some of them are categorized into a different class... Devils. These are Demons who possess human-level sentience and cunning, capable of manipulation and strategic planning."
Jester felt a prickle of unease. Cunning, manipulative demons sounded far more dangerous than brute force monsters.
"And finally..." Ms. Cyantrace's gaze was even more piercing. The display showed a different kind of creatures. Humanoid. But ugly and disgusting.
"These are the Fiends. These are the contractors who have undergone a complete transformation. Either through extensive demonization, a gradual corruption of their physical and spiritual being. Or through a horrifying demon fusion, where they merge their bodies and souls with a summoned demon."
The headmaster concluded. "They are abominations, a testament to the ultimate cost of dabbling with forces beyond comprehension. Very dangerous. And unforgivable."
The weight of her words settled over the auditorium. The threats weren't abstract monsters from faraway dimensions. They were real. Tangible dangers that could manifest in their town. Often facilitated by their own kind.
The mystique of the hero fighting monstrous invaders was now tinged with the grim reality. Of fighting against both external evil and internal betrayal.
Jester exchanged a look with Vale. His friend's usual distracted expression was replaced by a look of grim determination.
They had been aiming for power. For a way to protect themselves and others. Now, they had a clearer understanding of just what they needed protection from.
The Toonworld was a temporary escape. A source of power. But Sherra was where the real fight lay. And Jester would be ready. He wouldn't just be playing a game anymore.
He was still aiming for creating great, entertaining show. But he would also be preparing for... war.