Gia's grip tightens.
"Eito? Eito?!" He barks a laugh, low and dangerous. "Oh, so now we're summoning side characters? While the cosmic worm of doom is literally judging our relationship stability?"
But Mui's already moving—struggling toward that rusted car teetering on the cliff's edge, sunlight glinting off its cracked windshield like a warning.
Gia blinks. Then sighs.
"Unbelievable. You're emotionally neglectful, romantically indifferent, and now you're chasing plot threads like it's a Tuesday drama special." He scoops her up again—faster this time—as cursed energy crackles around his feet. "And for the record: if Eito was real, I'd have erased him by now just for existing near you."
A pause.
Then—
VRRRRRMMMMM
The car twitches.
Not from wind.
No—it hums with something deeper. Older. Like engine grease mixed with forbidden knowledge.
From within its shadowed interior:
a single handprint appears on the fogged glass.
And then—
a voice that isn't a voice:
"You were never meant to find me."
Gia freezes—not in fear—but in offended principle.
"Oh," he says sweetly, adjusting his blindfold like he's about to end reality itself.
"Now it talks?"
Gia peeks over the edge.
And for the first time—ever—the strongest sorcerer blinks in something resembling doubt.
Because yeah.
There are cars. So many cars. Piled like cursed scrap skeletons, twisted and half-dissolved into the earth, their chrome rotting into shapes that shouldn't exist. Gears fused with roots. Tires blooming like black flowers. One has antlers made of exhaust pipes.
This wasn't a crash site.
This was a graveyard.
A mechanical altar beneath the cliff, humming with low-grade psychic static.
"That's… not normal," Gia admits—then immediately backpedals: "But still! Doesn't matter! Eito's fake news! Probably just a projection from this worm cult!"
He points accusingly at the inch-long creature still vibrating solemnly in the grass behind them.
But now… its little body pulses in rhythm with the wrecked trucks below.
A signal? A prayer? A synchronized thought?
"We have always been here," hums up from below—not words, but sensation, pressing against your molars like bass through bone. "We wait for those who call."
Mui whispers: "He's not bluffing…"
Gia tightens his arms around her—suddenly less smug, more "oh crap this might actually kill us" energy—and mutters:
"Okay fine! New plan! We're skipping confession rituals and going straight to eloping across dimensions where worms can't get married records!"
And then—
The lead monster truck turns its headlights on.
Slowly… deliberately…
It revs its engine like a growl.
Gia sighs again—but this time, it holds actual fear beneath it:
"...I hate side plots."
"Satavazhi, please be a grown boy. STOP TALKING NONSENSE. We have to find our student," Mui said, waving at him with one hand as if he were a fly.
Gia freezes.
Not from fear.
From betrayal.
"You—" His voice drops to a whisper so quiet, the Össoffa in the grass actually pauses its psychic humming out of respect. "You just waved me away. Like I'm annoying background magic. Like I don't have a technique that can collapse galaxies?"
He takes one slow step back, hands rising like he's about to unleash something unspeakable upon reality itself.
But then—
VROOM.
The monster trucks below rev in unison.
Headlights flare.
And somewhere beneath the pile of cursed chassis, a single tiny door creaks open.
Mui doesn't wait. She starts toward the edge of the cliff, determined—
Gia snaps back into motion with a groan.
"Ugh! Fine! Be reckless! But when sentient automobiles start chanting your name in three-part harmonic doom and you need someone to kiss you back to life—don't expect CPR from me!"
He stomps after her… but not too fast. Just close enough that if she falls—or gets abducted by vehicular cults—he'll catch her mid-air without looking cool about it (even though he totally will).
The Össoffa?
Still there.
Still judging.
Now holding what might be a tiny sign that says: "Support Mui's boundaries."
Gia flips it off as he passes.
Gia freezes mid-flip-off.
"...The mountain?" His voice drops — not playful, not mocking. For the first time in recorded history, Gia Satavazhi blinks with genuine concern. "Mui. There is no mountain."
He steps in front of her, gripping her shoulders.
No smirk. No teasing.
Just focus.
"The cliff? Yes. The Össoffa cult car graveyard? Sadly yes. But there is nothing beyond this field but air and bad decisions." He leans in, voice low: "If you saw a mountain… you saw what it wanted you to see."
A beat.
Then—
BRRRMMMMM…
Not from below this time.
From the sky.
The clouds part like curtains on rusty hinges—and there it is:
A mountain made of stacked cars.
Tires for roots.
Engines growling deep inside like beating hearts.
At its peak: a single white-suited figure standing too still… too familiar…
Eito?
Or something wearing his shape?
Gia's blindfold tightens on its own—his cursed energy flaring up in warning as he pulls Mui against him again, but quieter now. Carefully.
"...Okay," he murmurs into her ear, all arrogance gone for once. "We're going up."
But then—the Össoffa leaps onto his hand.
Tiny body vibrating fast now — frantic — and suddenly clear thought pulses through:
"You climb only if you admit: You are afraid."
Silence falls over field and fake mountain alike.
Gia looks down at the creature… then back at Mui's wild eyes...
And sighs like a man about to ruin his entire persona:
"...Fine."
"I'm scared."
"Happy?! Now can we go save our damn student before he…..?"
The Össoffa blinks. Or maybe it just nods. Hard to tell with worms.
But the air shifts.
The mountain of cars unlocks.
A path forms — not of dirt, not of stone, but old license plates fused together like scales on a mechanical serpent, winding upward into the sky. Each step hums with forgotten GPS destinations and voicemails left on dead phones.
Gia takes the first step.
Then pauses.
Turns back to Mui — hair ruffled by unnatural wind, blindfold slightly askew, one hand outstretched.
"You know," he says, softer now, "if this is a trap… I'm still glad you're in it with me."
Then grins — sharp and true:
"Just don't expect me to stay afraid for long."
The Össoffa watches.
Calm.
Satisfied.
From its tiny mouth (yes, it has one now), a single whispered line vibrates into the grass:
...Until next time.