As exhausted got the better part of him, Seth staggered through the alleyways like a drunkard, weaving past cracked doors and broken shutters.
The town was very quiet now, its bizarre architecture throwing jagged shadows under the glow of the dozens of green lanterns scattered through the streets.
And then he saw it.
What looked like a broken carriage leaned against the wall of a narrow alley, its wheels shattered, its harness rotting. But inside, a pile of hay had been dumped, glowing faintly with the otherworldly shimmer of the Shattered Realms.
Seth stopped. His breath hitched. Tears of gratitude filled his eyes.
"Beautiful," he whispered.
He dragged himself forward, hauling his aching body into the carriage. The hay was prickly, itchy, and smelled faintly of mold—but to Seth, it was a heavenly bed of silk. He collapsed face-first into it, his body finally surrendering.
"For three days," he mumbled into the hay, "I ran from every skirt, every smile, every giggle… But tonight… I sleep."
And sleep claimed him instantly.
The alley grew still. The green flames of lanterns flickered, shadows stretching across the cobblestones. Somewhere in the distance, a dog howled. Somewhere closer, footsteps clicked faintly against stone.
But Seth didn't stir. For the first time since his arrival, he slept like the dead.
And the system, patient and cruel, waited for him to wake.
~~~~~
The first thing Seth felt was pain in his backside. The second was the way his teeth clacked together as his body jolted violently. He snapped awake with a grunt, clutching at the straw beneath him.
"Wh—what the hell?" he muttered, eyes darting. The world around him moved in a slow, bumpy rhythm. Crooked trees passed on either side, warped sky sprewdinb6 above, the hay scratching at his arms and neck. And then he realized—
The carriage was moving.
He sat up halfway, bleary-eyed. The wooden wheels creaked and groaned over the cracked path, bouncing through potholes as though determined to rattle his bones apart. Seth squinted against the fractured light from high above, his heart giving a sluggish thump.
"…Wait a second."
He hadn't moved the carriage. Hell, when he climbed into it last night, he'd practically been dead. He rubbed his face, trying to push away the haze of exhaustion.
Just then, the familiar chime rang in his head.
DING!
[New Mission: Exploration. Locate the nearest civilization.]
[Reward: 300 EXP. System Points +5.]
[Failure Penalty: None.]
Seth stared at the floating text, unimpressed. "That's it? Exploration? Pfft." He smirked, leaning back into the hay. "I'm literally in a carriage. You think I'm walking? Nah. Let the wheels do the work."
For the first time since arriving in this twisted realm, he felt something dangerously close to peace. The carriage rumbled on, rocking him gently.
Minutes ticked by. Twenty of them, by his rough guess. The silence gnawed at him, curiosity gnawed harder.
Finally, Seth pushed himself upright, stretching. The carriage was open—no roof, just four walls and a bed of hay. Peering over the edge, he spotted the back of a driver's seat and a slouched figure holding the reins.
He cleared his throat. "Uh—hey, excuse me—"
But the rider spoke first, his voice calm and gravelly. "Ah. You're awake."
Seth blinked. "…Yeah."
The man chuckled low in his chest. "I saw you back there when I stopped to check the wheels. Dead asleep, you were. And the way you slept…" He shook his head, clicking his tongue. "A man doesn't sleep that hard unless he hasn't had a roof for a while. Or a bed. Or peace of mind."
Seth froze. He hadn't said a word, yet this old man had read him like an open book.
"…So you took me along?" he asked, wary.
The driver nodded once, never glancing back. "Didn't seem right to leave a stranger lying in the alleys. Folks vanish that way."
Warmth bloomed in Seth's chest. He opened his mouth, shut it again, then managed a sincere, "Thank you."
"Don't mention it. But if you're going to thank me," the man said, "you'd better take a seat up here. Road's bumpy. Keep standing and you'll rattle your skull on the wood."
Seth glanced at the hay, then at the uneven path ahead. Another sharp jolt nearly threw him sideways. Grimacing, he clambered over the side and dropped into the front seat beside the driver.
The old man gave him a sidelong glance, eyes a pale gray that gleamed with calm intelligence. His beard was silver, trimmed short, his hands calloused on the reins.
"So," the man said, "do you have a name?"
"Seth," he replied automatically. "Seth Gertrude."
The old man nodded. "Gertrude. Strong name. Mine's Eldran."
"Eldran," Seth repeated, rolling it on his tongue. It felt solid, dependable. The kind of name you wanted on your side.
The carriage rattled on. For once, Seth allowed himself to breathe. He leaned back, letting the rhythm of hooves and wheels sink into him.
"Well... I think I'm utterly lost. I have no idea where I am or where we're headed." Seth said, holding his head as though he suffered from memory loss.
Eldran smiled and proceeded to fill the silence with easy talk.
"Well, for one, were..."
He explained their location—one of the more stable shards of the Shattered Realms, though still dangerous. They were heading toward a settlement called Draemhollow, a place where wanderers and traders gathered.
"Draemhollow, huh?" Seth scratched his chin. "Civilization. Perfect. Guess that knocks my mission out of the park."
"Mission?" Eldran asked mildly.
Seth froze. "Uh—figure of speech."
The old man chuckled again. "You're a strange one, Seth. But strange men tend to survive in strange lands."
Seth allowed himself a grin. For the first time, things weren't spiraling out of control. For the first time, he wasn't running from accusations, blades, or paranoia. Just him, an old man, and a bumpy road.
Peace.
He almost believed it could last.
Then the world shattered again.
"You two, stop right there!" A shout split the air. From the ridge ahead, half a dozen figures poured down the slope, their silhouettes ragged and armed. The carriage jolted as the horses whinnied in panic.
Bandits.
Steel glinted in fractured moonlight. One brandished a crude sword, another a crossbow. Their leader, a scar-faced brute with matted hair, grinned as he raised his weapon.
"Well, well," he barked. "What's this? An old fool and his pet stray? Looks like payday, boys!"
The others roared in agreement, fanning out to block the road.
Seth's stomach dropped. "Oh, come on. I just got comfortable!"
Eldran clicked his tongue, pulling the reins to steady the horses. His expression hardened, but his voice stayed calm. "Stay sharp, lad. Draemhollow's never an easy road."
Seth's palms grew slick as he glanced from Eldran to the bandits. His system screen shimmered faintly in the corner of his vision, waiting—always waiting—for his next move.
Peace had been a lie.
The chaos had found him again.