Conscious, Conscientious

Deon stretched, sustaining a grunt as he followed the rushing group across the grassy plains.

“It’s nice to feel my legs again,” he commented.

Skrili shot him a glare.

“Uh…not that you were too heavy or anything. It was just crammed!” he tried to clarify.

Deon looked around at the fairly barren yet familiar landscape. Now that they were back in Fantasy Country, the effect of this reality’s lively color palette transported his mind back to the Conscious Competition for a moment.

It had only been a month since then, but it felt much longer. He could hardly believe Lammy had been there, so close, that whole time.

Deon tried not to picture what his cousin was facing at this moment. It would only feed the panic he was barely keeping at bay.

“I’m surprised we got past the border guards without problems,” he said, mostly to get his own mind off the subject. “I thought they would’ve recognized Kotono and Hiroko for sure.”

“They probably did,” Hiroko explained, leading the pack. “I’m sure our management reached out to all the Fiction Country borders, so the border workers probably notified them.”

“Oh. So now we’re being chased, too?” Deon assumed.

Hiroko shrugged dismissively. “Kind of,” she said. “But Kotono and I are adults who make our own decisions, and they’re gonna have to figure that out. Which reminds me…”

She paused her rushed steps, so everyone gathered around her.

“TeamTracks off,” she instructed.

Kotono was already pressing her screen before Hiroko had even finished the words. “Thank goodness…this thing won’t stop going off. Management’s freaking out.”

Skrili followed. “It’s so they can’t trace us to Azvaylen,” she explained to Deon.

“They know where we are because of these things?” he learned, turning his off.

“Yep. And Azvaylen’s reality is restricted right now,” Hiroko told him. “If they know we tried to get there, Kotono and I will get a slap on the wrist—but you guys could all lose your careers.”

“That serious, huh?” Deon asked hollowly.

“There’s been unrest since Zayza’s family—the royalty, that is—was murdered. So they closed off the Worldline during this political transition,” Hiroko told him. “Ever since Zayza disappeared and they accused her publicly, all the news around the kingdom stopped. We don’t know what we’re walking into.”

“Technically, Zayza’s next in line to rule…she’d be the Queen of Azvaylen now, if they didn’t blame her for the murders,” Kotono shared. “So that means…”

Hiroko nodded. “I know,” she said solemnly.

Deon and Skrili looked on, out of the loop.

You know what? Deon wanted to ask, but Hiroko’s restrained worry kept him silent.

Instead, Phillip caught his eye. While everyone else had turned off their devices without issue, he stood frozen, staring at his glowing screen.

“It’s the button on the side,” Kotono tried to help.

But Phillip didn’t move a finger, seemingly waiting for something.

“If Pang’s with them, they probably took her TeamTrack,” Hiroko said tenderly. “I know she’d message you if she could, but…we have to move.”

After a few more silent moments, Phillip nodded. His device went dark and he returned his ghostly expression to the rest of the group.

“Let’s find her. All of them,” he muttered.

Hiroko surveyed their surroundings: the main path to the border was too far out of sight by now, and nobody was around.

“This should be far enough,” she decided. “Skrili and Deon: you said you have someone trustworthy to get us there? This is your cue. Magicians should be fine, but we should probably avoid large transports like flying carriages or drag—”

She cut herself short, and Deon and Skrili stared back at her like guilty children—Skrili had already pulled out a mint green dragon scale from her bag.

“…ons.” Hiroko finished, deflated.

“Um…He’s a friend of ours,” Skrili assured.

Hiroko sighed doubtfully. “Is he…fast, at least?”

“Well he’s a geezer,” started Deon, “but don’t worry: the guy is defintely FAST. Not that I’ve been on any other dragon before.”

Again, Hiroko took a long, deep breath. “Whatever…if that’s our only lead, we’ll have to go for it.”

The assortment of anxious consciousness pros waited while Skrili used her finger to write a request into Gibblezgorv’s scale. Hiroko assisted with the more specific instructions, regarding the nature of approaching the reality, and the potential danger of the mission.

Deon wondered if Gibblezgorv would agree to such a controversial gig.

But only a few minutes later, the scale flashed in response.

Skrili observed the inside of it. “He accepted,” she confirmed. “He’s in Conscious City right now.”

“B—but isn’t that too far away?” Kotono pointed out.

“He’s estimating he’ll be here in an hour and a half,” read Skrili.

Hiroko’s eyebrows raised, seeming impressed for possibly the first time Deon had ever witnessed. “Huh. That is fast,” she realized. “For now…”

She turned, dropped her travel bag, and removed her hoodie to reveal her signature purple and black fighting clothes. Her black triangle tattoos were vivid under the Fantasy Country daylight.

Hiroko dropped smoothly into a plank, and then began a series of effortless one-handed pushups.

This girl never takes breaks, huh? Deon noted, observing her perfect form and rock-hard muscles.

Skrili dropped her things and stepped over to her, but hesitated with a blush.

“Come on, come on! Join in!” Hiroko encouraged warmly.

Skrili’s suddenly enamored eyes caught Deon’s smirking, knowing face. She shot him a look, so he kept his teasing to himself as he watched her crouch down and join her hero’s exercise.

~

What felt like over an hour passed by, and Deon eventually ran out of ways to look busy while Hiroko and Skrili powered on. If they invited him to join, he knew he’d immediately be put to shame next to their superior physical strength.

At least Phillip and Kotono aren’t doing it, either, he noticed as he looked around.

Phillip sat in the grass and pulled out a reddish device with a black needle. Rolling up his sleeve, he administered a dose of his treatment—a source of life made possible only by Hiroko’s charitable decision in the tournament. He observed her unwavering workout quietly.

Kotono was admiring her fondly, as well. Even in impending, unknown peril, Hiroko was focused. He could feel her stoic charisma boosting his own confidence, easing his own mind.

No wonder everyone looks up to her, he thought.

“What’s wrong, Deon? You’re not gonna hop in?” Hiroko invited coyly. “Your teammate’s fired up! Get in on this!”

Crap…called out, Deon noticed.

“Oh, uh—maybe in a bit…” he stuttered, met with laughter.

Deon glanced around in a frantic attempt for a believable excuse. Instead, he found something of genuine interest when his eyes fell back to Kotono.

There was a hue of light emitting softly around her—some red, and some blue. She was oblivious to it at first, but when she noticed it, she jumped and the red increased. Kotono sat down, took a few deep breaths, and stared even closer at Hiroko.

“G—great job, guys…” she said. And as she did, the light around her vanished.

Her powers…Emovert, Deon pondered. They’re so much like my weird power-up. But she just calmed hers down; no way I could do that with mine as they are now.

He shuffled over to the dainty, fashionable fighter and sat beside her.

“Hey,” he greeted. “Uh…your powers…How do you, like, control them?”

“Well…” Kotono started shyly, “if I’m being honest—”

A deep, resounding whoosh of wings in the slight distance caught her and Deon’s ear, and she fell silent. They faced the sky.

Gibblezgorv’s silhouette appeared.

“Guess it’s time,” Deon declared. Skrili and Hiroko cut their workout short and observed, while Phillip stepped closer. But his dark gaze was even more scrutinizing than usual.

“Wait,” he started. “Why…are there more?”

“Huh?”

Deon tried to peer more closely. Soon three more dragons faded into view, approaching at high speed as they closed in on his familiar mint-green friend.

“Yeah, wait…what’s up with that?”

Skrili hurried to check her scale again, but it didn’t appease her confusion. “I’m…not sure…”

Hiroko had already shifted into a fighting stance, eyeing the massive beasts. “This could be a trap. Someone could already be onto us,” she stressed. “Get ready!”

Harsh red light burst from Kotono as she stumbled a step back, and Phillip clenched his fists.

Deon hurried over to stand by Skrili—he knew they’d be more powerful together. But still, neither could bring themselves to prepare for a fight.

“I can’t see Gibblezgorv tricking us,” Deon whispered.

“The other three could be chasing him,” she replied.

“True…which technique do we prepare, then?”

“Wait.”

The majestic beings raced even closer.

“YOUNG SKRILI AND DEON! GREETINGS!” came Gibblezgorv’s warm, hoarse voice. “I brought some help; I hope you don’t mind!”

Deon and Skrili let out a joint sigh of relief. Immediately, Kotono’s energy softened in response. Hiroko and Phillip remained cautious, but lowered their guards a bit.

Gibblezgorv soon circled them and landed with a grunt. The ground quaked as the three other dragons joined him. Two of them were even larger than Gibblezgorv, their heads towering slightly higher than his as they peered down at the bunch curiously. The other dragon stood smaller, yet with equal grandeur and strength.

“I leapt into quite the rush when I received your request, Skrili,” Gibblezgorv said. “I’m so sorry about your current emergency. Considering the amount of passengers, I knew I’d need a few extra wings. So I contacted some very old friends.”

Deon figured he meant ‘old’ in a sense that they’d known each other for hundreds of years, but it was still a particularly fitting word choice: aside from the smaller dragon, Gibblezgorv’s friends appeared even more ancient than him. One tried stretching its back with a labored grunt.

It’s a flock of dragon geezers, he realized.

The nearest dragon took a booming step forward and nodded, its pearly white scales reflecting the sun brilliantly. “Gibblezgorv doesn’t involve himself in serious human affairs,” she said, her soft, elderly blue eyes blinking slowly. “So when he contacted me, I knew you tiny ones must be special.”

“That’s Horblezgorz,” Gibblezgorv introduced. He tilted his head to the dragon on his other side, a hefty one with long, beardlike green whiskers and deep pink scales. “This is Fabinwaf.”

“You liberated my dear Gibblezgorv from a century-long depression by choosing him for all your trips, you know,” Fabinwaf shared. Despite his colossal, muscular stature compared to his peers, his voice was nearly gone. “I haven’t seen this ole’ mountain so sprightly in quite some time. I’m honored to aid someone who aided my friend.”

“Goodness. You’re too kind, Fabinwaf. You too, Horblezgorz,” said Gibblezgorv. “Oh, and of course…this here is our other friend, Dylan.”

The smallest dragon, brown and rather plain in contrast to the others, gave a simple wave.

“’Sup guys,” said Dylan.

“He’s from another region,” Gibblezgorv explained.

At last, Hiroko and Phillip let their tension evaporate, and Kotono’s energy dissipated fully.

“You went all-out. Thanks, old-timer,” Deon said. “Seriously.”

Hiroko approached them, her ever-stern eyes analyzing the mostly elderly bunch.

“E—everything okay, Hiroko?” Kotono checked.

But Hiroko’s face morphed into more of a tender frown, like a worried parent, as she brought a hand to her face. “Honestly…I feel kind of guilty asking this much of them,” she said. “I mean, they’re so—”

“We may be old, small one, but we’re—” started Fabinwaf in a croak, but he stopped and let out a violent hack. “Pardon.”

Deon couldn’t help but squirm a bit when Hiroko deflated even further. After all, this was his and Skrili’s idea.

“Do you work in hostile flying situations normally?” she tried.

“Much like Gibblezgorv, we’re all pacifists,” Horblezgorz clarified.

Hiroko sighed. “Well, let’s not waste time,” she said, shifting to retrieve her belongings.

Deon glanced at Skrili to find the same hint of guilt in her eyes. But despite Hiroko’s obvious reluctance to approve, Gibblezgorv seemed far from offended.

In fact, he snuck Deon and Skrili a sly wink.

“She’s right. Let’s be off and retrieve your little friends,” he said cheerfully.

His easy optimism filled Deon’s heart, like when Uncle Adon used to scoop him and Lammy up into warm embraces.

The wait was over. The mission had begun. They would find Lammy, alive and well, and the two cousins would feel Uncle Adon’s hug again. Deon promised himself.

“Let’s go,” Skrili said to him, sheer intensity in her stride towards Gibblezgorv.

Soon they sat mounted in his familiar saddle. Hiroko and Kotono climbed up onto Horblezgorz, while Phillip made his way up Fabinwap’s pink scales and secured his belongings.

Deon held tight onto Skrili’s waist in preparation for his least favorite part: the liftoff.

“Hey wait a second, what’s the brown dragon…Dylan…here for?” he wondered.

Gibblezgorv puffed a single, confident laugh, and Deon realized the answer was quite obvious. Regardless, Skrili spoke up.

“We’ll have three more passengers,” she said, “on our way back, won’t we?”

A smile crept onto Deon’s face. “Oh yeah. We will.”

Suddenly, Skrili’s hand squeezed Deon’s.

“We’ll get Lammy back.”

His bones shook when Gibblezgorv unleashed a hearty roar, and his old friends responded just the same.

“WE’RE OFF!” he announced. “LANMURAARCH WORLDLINE: PREPARE YOURSELF!!”

With rapid wings, Gibblezgorv, Horvlezgorz, Fabinwaf, and Dylan took to the sky.

~~~

Lammy blinked once, then again. For a moment, he wondered if he’d somehow moved backwards in time. While his vision had yet to recover, he could hear muffled voices—hundreds, if not thousands of them, in the distance.

Gloat Stadium? he wondered.

But he could feel he was still hanging tightly in Najinzu’s unforgiving grasp. And this place had an unfamiliar, pure scent.

Wherever they were now, it was cold.

“Oh—you’re here. I’ll alert our superiors,” someone said. His voice echoed far against the walls.

“By that, you mean the Queen, right?” Irma’s voice corrected slowly.

“R—right. The Queen.”

At last, Lammy’s vision returned. First he saw Zayza underneath the mellow, oddly pinkish glow of torches, still in Najinzu’s other arm. Everyone else was there, too, together in the same circle as before.

But again, it seemed, the color palette had transformed. Everyone’s faces were more angular, and unlike the vibrant colors of Fantasy Country’s Mainland, all shades were tame—perhaps even somber. A slight graininess defined everything he saw, and browns and blacks assumed dominance.

If they were a painting, this artist was portraying a much drearier, more solemn story.

Somehow, as Zayza also observed her surroundings, Lammy knew this was how she was meant to look: her default, original state. It highlighted her beauty. Zayza didn’t take long to grasp where they were now; her eyes flooded with reluctant familiarity.

Lamentably, she was home.

This was Azvaylen.

“Hey, you guys got an open room somewhere I can leave this girl for a bit?” Benton inquired, raising the sleeping Pang on his enormous shoulder.

Lammy looked to the man who had greeted them. Though he dressed head to toe in dark metal armor, it didn’t quell his obvious intimidation as he stared back at Benton and Irma—he practically shivered as he tried to stand tall.

“O—oh, yes. The first office down the hall,” the guard stammered. “Shall I take her for you, g—general?”

“I got it,” Benton brushed off. He’d already dropped Raznizu on the stone floor and began strutting away. “And don’t call me that.”

“Right, sir.”

“Or that.”

“Apologies.” He turned to Irma, Najinzu, and Fewpar. “Come with me, pl—”

Still itching his red neck, Fewpar stepped past him and led the way.

“Let’s just get this over with and get her executed,” he grumbled.

Benton returned quickly, scooping Raznizu back up and following them. Lammy couldn’t see Raznizu’s face at this uncomfortable angle anymore, but he wished he could. Heart pounding, he clung to Raznizu’s strange assurance he offered just before they teleported.

Was it true? Was there really still hope?

The endless voices were growing closer with each step.

“Stay strong,” Zayza whispered beside him.

Najinzu scoffed.

“You move quickly,” the guard said, arching his neck to meet Benton and Irma’s much taller gazes. “Thank you for finally bringing justice to our kingdom.”

Again, Najinzu scoffed.

“Well we were kinda busy, so you’re lucky Proscious even called on us,” Irma said.

Lammy noticed a natural light adding illumination to the hall. He strained to see it led to an arched opening. Silhouettes of guards stood there facing outward, and behind them, nothing but gray clouds. All of the voices were coming from outside.

Once they neared the opening, the guard signaled the group to wait just before it.

Some sort of jarring horn sang through the air, silencing the crowd.

“And now: an important address from our Queen of Azvaylen!” a man declared quite fancily, his voice somehow amplified—likely through magic, Lammy supposed.

Applause and reverence rang out.

“Citizens of Azvaylen: long have I promised justice for you, and for our royal family,” a woman said in a surprisingly high and soft, yet authoritative voice.

“It pains me to accept that months have passed since their lives were heartlessly stolen. But I must, and will continue to, bear this responsibility brought upon by this unforgivable darkness. I will, as your Queen, lead us through this tribulation, and continue the royal family’s mission towards prosperity for all of us. Please accept this offering as proof of my undying loyalty to our sovereign nation.”

She paused.

“Bring them in,” she instructed to the guards for all to hear.

Lammy’s body fought to breathe heavily, but Najinzu held him too tight as he stepped into the outdoors alongside Fewpar, Irma, and Benton. Misty rain brushed their skin.

They stood high up in an elaborately sculpted stone balcony, and far below, thousands of spectators stared up at them. And while Lammy couldn’t count the faces in this crowded courtyard, he could still read the hurt, and blood thirst, on every single one.

“Not you, too…” Zayza uttered. “Please…”

Lammy followed her tearful eyes to the front of the balcony. Between two guards with enormous, drawn swords of wavy light, the floor raised an extra couple steps. A further wooden block had also been added on top, and looking above it, Lammy understood why.

The speaker, the Queen, couldn’t have been any taller than him. She faced her audience, dressed in an elegant pink and white dress with golden shoulder plates and an array of glittering jewelry. It was almost the same as Zayza’s Dream World attire. But though she stood as tall and domineering as possible, her tiny stature was still obvious.

Her pale blonde hair waved as she turned to face them, and her gray eyes met Lammy’s.

Suddenly, he went from heavy breathing to a lack of breath entirely.

The Queen was a young girl—probably only his age.

And aside from her hair and eye color, she looked exactly like Zayza.