No way.
Ethan froze as a ringtone blared from his pocket, cutting through the swarm's furious hum. His jaw dropped."How is this even possible? I'm trapped in some nightmare of another world—how can my phone still be connected? What, does my carrier deserve a gold medal for interdimensional coverage now?"
Even as he swung his arms frantically to fend off the cloud of mosquitoes, he jammed a hand into his pocket and yanked the phone free.
It was caked in mud, slick with swamp water, but somehow the screen still glowed, the ringtone still sharp and clear. He almost laughed at the absurdity.
On the caller ID: Uncle.
He didn't hesitate. He jabbed the button and pressed it to his ear, shouting over the droning swarm."Hello—!"
A mosquito the size of his hand stabbed into the back of his neck. He yelped."Oh, hell no—!"
A voice on the other end instantly barked back."What did you just say? Who the hell are you yelling at!?"
Ethan froze."No—no, not you, Uncle! I wasn't talking to you—I mean, I was, but—damn it, I'm getting chewed alive here!"
The background roar of insects must have carried through, because the caller's voice suddenly shifted. Younger. Not his uncle."Hey, Ethan? It's me—Ryan. Not your uncle. Why's it so loud? What's going on over there?"
His cousin.
"Ryan! Oh, thank God. I—damn it—hold on!" Ethan smashed another giant mosquito against his cheek. Its body exploded, spraying foul-smelling ichor down his chin. He gagged, then yelled into the phone, "There are too many mosquitoes! I can't hear you—talk louder!"
Ryan hesitated. "What do you mean mosquitoes? Just spray them. Or light some incense."
"I don't have incense!" Ethan roared. "I don't even have bug spray!"
He was thrashing blindly, smothered by the swarm, his body riddled with stings. The pain was sharp, constant, draining. He couldn't last.
Ryan's voice broke through the chaos. "You should try one of those electric bug zappers I have at home. Kills roaches too!"
Ethan almost laughed, almost cried."Too late for that, Ryan! Way too late!"
And then—like lightning—an idea struck.
"Wait. Wait! Don't hang up—I'll call you back!"
He stuffed the phone against his chest and plunged a hand into his dimensional storage. His fingers closed around something familiar. Cold. Heavy.
The electric baton.
He yanked it free and thumbed the switch. Sparks snapped at the tip, a dangerous hiss filling the swamp air.
"Alright, you little bloodsuckers. Let's see how you like this."
He swung. The first strike connected. The mosquito burst apart in a crack of sizzling flesh, dropping like a rock. The current leapt, arcing across wings and legs, jumping insect to insect. Dozens fried in a chain reaction, tumbling to the water's surface in a rain of smoldering carcasses.
Ethan roared with savage triumph. He swung again, again. Every touch of the baton set off another wave of sparks, the cloud thinning with every stroke. The swamp lit up like a storm of fireworks.
Minutes later, silence. The air reeked of burned chitin. The water was carpeted with floating corpses. Only a handful of stragglers buzzed weakly before he crushed them with the baton's spent handle, smashing them like baseballs.
Panting, sweat dripping into his eyes, he threw back his head and shouted at the swamp."Who's laughing now, huh? You thought you could drain me? That's what you get for messing with me!"
But his victory howl died the instant he noticed the ripples.
From every direction, shapes slid through the murky water—bloated toads the size of melons, snakes thick as fence posts, grotesque creatures he couldn't even name. They swarmed greedily, devouring the dead mosquitoes with wet, crunching gulps.
Ethan's skin crawled. The sound alone made his stomach lurch.
"This place…" he muttered. "This whole forest is a nightmare."
He staggered away, forcing his aching legs to move until he reached a stretch of firmer ground. Only then did he remember.
The call.
His heart lurched as he snatched the phone back up. The line was dead. No signal. He hit redial. Nothing. Again and again, the same mocking message: No service.
Then a new alert pinged. A text message.
It was from Ryan.
Cousin, I know you're busy, so I'll keep this short. This morning, Dad was hit by a car. He's in the hospital. The doctors say he might need surgery. If you can, please come as soon as possible.
Ethan stared at the screen until the words blurred.
"No…"
His uncle. The man who had raised him when no one else would. Who had paid for his schooling, kept him fed, kept him alive. The man who had once given up every savings to try and save his wife, and still found the heart to help Ethan build a future.
The one person who had never abandoned him.
His chest clenched, pain sharper than any mosquito bite. "Please. Please be okay."
The text vanished. His inbox was empty. When he tried to call again, the phone mocked him with silence.
"No, no, no—come on!" He shook it, desperate, until his hands trembled. But nothing. The connection was gone.
For a long moment, he stood there in the swamp, shaking, breathing hard. Then resolve filled his veins like fire.
He would finish this mission. He would get back. Nothing else mattered.
Ignoring the pain in his swollen arms and legs, Ethan yanked up the radar. A bright signal pulsed on the display, the closest he had ever seen.
He didn't care if it was treasure, beast, or trap. He ran.
Through the trees. Over roots. Across mud. His body screamed for rest, but his will drove him harder. His uncle needed him. That was all that mattered.
An hour later, breath ragged, he stumbled into a clearing—and stopped dead.
There, spread across the flatland, stood a village.
Dozens—hundreds—of wooden huts, some stacked two and three stories tall. Thorn-covered fences encircled the perimeter, watchtowers looming at the gates. It was a settlement, crafted with precision, built to endure.
Ethan's mouth went dry."This… this is a whole town."
And then he realized—there wasn't a single person in sight.
The place was utterly silent.
(End of Chapter 17)