Dimension Walker: The Veiled Paragon

Hahahaha

Sunlight scattered, soft and slow, over a wide meadow. Laughter bubbled like a stream tumbling over smooth rocks, bright and warm.

He was there.

Feet pounding soft earth, breath free, heart light. Around him, other children—faces vague, edges blurred—ran in circles, calling each other halfway across the field.

Someone fell, another helped them up. A leaf floated down, and they caught it, tossing it into the air in a playful contest.

Hehehe

He laughed along.

It was home—a sense of belonging wrapped in the hum of innocence.

They formed a circle under a grand, crooked tree. Someone passed around small wooden bowls filled with berries that stained the fingers.

"Try this one,"

A voice teased;

"it's sweeter than the rest."

He grinned and ate.

"Maybe I choose the good ones."

They laughed again. It wasn't about who ate what—it was the shared moment, the quiet joy of being young and unburdened.

Then—

One boy stumbled into the clearing the next morning. A bruise darkened his cheek, fresh pain in his eyes. The laughter dimmed. Norian leaned in.

"What happened?"

The boy's mouth was tight. Didn't answer. A hush fell on the group.

Soon, another child came back with a limp. Their eyes flicked to him—just a hair too long, just a pause too deep. Something shifted.

It started softly.

Voices, at first just a murmur, too light to understand.

"He fights them..."

"…and they end up cursed."

"…you saw it, right?"

"He doesn't bleed... like us."

"Something's off."

He nodded—but they weren't looking. They were whispering around him, air sliding between them like he didn't exist anymore.

He cleared his throat.

"What are you saying?"

No one looked at him. Their heads bent, lips moving—words tumbled out, jumbled, complicated.

"FreakMonsterBadomenHe'snotoneofusHe'swrongDon'tgonearhimdon'tgonearstayawayGetaway."

Their words overlapped. Sharp and soft. Mocking and fearful. The meadow warped, light bending like an optical illusion.

He stepped toward them. Heart pounding.

They stepped back.

He tried again.

"Please—listen to me—!"

They didn't.

Instead, fingers rose. One simple index finger at first. Then five. Then dozens, until it felt like hundreds were pointing—no faces, only suggestion. Pale arms slicing through the air.

"MonsterCurseRotYoubroughtthis."

A girl's voice, high-pitched:

"You cursed my brother!"

A boy's sob:

"You did this to him!"

Another child's calm whisper:

"He never bleeds... not like us."

The crow grew louder—voices rising and falling in chaotic rhythm.

He stumbled backward. The grass beneath him felt cold, hard, foreign.

"Stop!"

His voice cracked.

"Stop—stop it—please!"

They surrounded him now. Not approaching—but existing just on the edge of his panic.

Everything—the tree, the sky, their blank eyes—felt unreal.

He could hear the overlap:

"monstercursegetawayyoudon'tbelongYoushouldhavenaverbeenbornitwasyou..."

And laughter—threaded through the accusations like broken glass.

He covered his ears, scream locked in his throat.

The world spun. No escape.

And then—

He woke.

No gasp. No scream. Just a violent jolt upward — like surfacing from a lake with lungs full of cold air.

His breath came in heaves, throat dry and tight. The rough stone beneath him was damp with sweat. His hands shook.

Heart beating so loud it hurt. Breath came in blasts. Cold sweat everywhere, his skin wet as though he'd waded into the pond again.

'Huh? Where Am I?'

It was dark. Not the false dark of night in a bedroom — but the damp, breath-thin dark of stone and moss. The air was still. The scent of old wood and reptilian musk clung to the walls.

The prison cell.

'Ah, right.'

The lizardmen village.

Faint torchlight flickered beyond the bars. Somewhere above, the low hum of the village rising — quiet murmurs, footsteps, the clatter of tools being prepared for the day.

But inside this small square of stone, he was alone.

Utterly.

He sat hunched over, elbows on knees, sweat cooling on his spine. His heart refused to slow. It beat like it hadn't yet realized the danger was gone.

He blinked. Once. Twice.

'That... was a nightmare, wasn't it?'

Images clung to the edges of his mind.

Fingers pointing.

Laughter that didn't match the faces.

Words he couldn't place. Or remember.

'Monster?'

No, he hadn't heard that.

Had he?

He pressed both palms to his face, dragging them down slowly, grounding himself. Every inch of his skin felt heavy, as though someone had poured lead into his veins.

It was a dream.

A nightmare.

'That's right. A nightmare. But what did I dream about?'

But he couldn't recall the shape of it.

Only the feeling remained — the clenching in his ribs, the cold weight behind his eyes, the sour breath of having been judged by a crowd that never let him speak.

He sat there for a long time.

Unmoving.

Then, slowly, with limbs still sore from yesterday, he pushed himself to his feet. The cold stone greeted the soles of his feet like ice.

He walked toward the barred entrance, placing a hand on it. The metal was cool. Unforgiving.

The village beyond had started to wake.

But inside him, something hadn't.

He didn't know what he had dreamed.

He just knew that whatever it was…

It had hurt.

And it was still hurting.

Even if the memory was gone.

*****

✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢

✶ Dimension Walker ✶

✧ The Veiled Paragon ✧

⊱ Eternal_Void_ ⊰

✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢

*****

Norian stepped out of the prison cell.

The wooden bars were still cracked and half-hanging from yesterday's chaos. No one had fixed them. Not that it mattered — the village clearly had more important things to handle.

The cavern felt different today.

'Huh, it's day. It feels weird now. Waking up in day.'

No glowing moss.

No bioluminescent shimmer lighting the walls like it had the past few days. Just thin steam curling through the air and the flicker of fire torches, their flames soft and low.

It seems it was morning. The light had changed. It was a small detail, but it made the space feel more… grounded. Real.

"AaaRrghH"

Norian stretched slowly as he walked.

His body ached from the awkward way he'd slept, limbs sore and tight. The stone had been cold, the posture unnatural. He massaged his shoulder with a wince.

His thoughts, however, were heavier than his steps.

'What was that…?'

He murmured to himself. Something sat behind his chest, like a shadow trying to speak but slipping through every time he reached for it.

"Why do I feel… sad and empty?"

He whispered, frowning.

"Like something's slipping away…"

He tried to remember — really tried. There was something. A dream, maybe? A nightmare?

'Was the Nightmare that bad?'

He clicked his tongue and sighed.

"Must've been that dream I can't remember."

He gave a tired shrug. Some part of him still whispered the truth, but he buried it—deep, where it couldn't claw its way out.

"What a crappy way to start the day."

But as the cavern air hit his face and his legs warmed up, a small, mischievous grin pushed through.

"Well, whatever,"

He muttered, rubbing his belly.

"I'm starving. Let's see if those cold-blooded fellows have anything decent to eat this time."

The village was already moving.

Though some torches still flickered, the lizardmen had emerged — most of them busy repairing shattered huts and cracked stone paths.

The damage from the six bandits had been cleaned up for the most part, but signs of the fight remained. Scorch marks. Splintered walls. Drag marks leading to the pond.

Norian didn't ask what had happened to the bandits after he threw them in. He hadn't cared. Not then. Not now.

Garuda was standing near the center of the village, talking with a few elders. His arms were crossed, face stern as always — but when he noticed Norian approaching, his posture relaxed.

"Human,"

Garuda called out, tilting his head.

"Are you alright?"

Norian waved a hand lazily and grinned.

"Yeah, yeah. Just a little sore here and there."

He rubbed his neck with a sheepish chuckle.

"Also… this might be a bit shameful, but uh—could I get something to eat? I mean, you guys have been feeding me like a stray dog."

Garuda blinked.

For a brief second, it looked like he'd been hit in the gut. His eyes widened slightly, caught off guard.

But then he quickly composed himself and raised his chin, straightening his back.

"We treated you that way because you were a prisoner,"

He said, with a hint of pride.

"We couldn't trust you then."

"But,"

He added,

"now that you've saved us… we'll treat you with full honor. As a benefactor."

Norian laughed at that.

"No need to go overboard, man. Just gimme some fruits. I'm not asking for a banquet."

He looked around at the scorched structures, the tired villagers fixing walls.

"You all are already going through a lot. I don't want to make it harder."

Garuda's expression softened.

"You still saved us,"

He said simply.

Norian scratched his cheek and smiled.

"If you're really that overwhelmed with gratitude, maybe you can help me with something."

Garuda raised a brow.

"What do you want?"

But the next moment his eyes widened with realization. He warped his around himself and said with a shaky and somewhat panicked voice,

"D-Don't tell me you want something..."

Norian raised a hand quickly.

"Hey! Stop right there. I don't know what you're imagining, but let me finish, alright?"

He exhaled.

"What I want is… as you know, I'm not from this world. I was sent here to complete a mission — to convince a thousand people that Veltharion exists. My world."

Garuda nodded slowly, arms crossed again.

Norian continued.

"But since I'm not from around here… I've got no clue where to even start finding more people."

His voice dipped slightly.

"I just want to go home. And to do that, I need help. A guide. Someone who knows the land. Someone who can help deliver my message."

Garuda stared at him.

There was a long silence.

Then, the lizardman burst out laughing.

"Puwahahah—! You should've said so earlier!"

He threw his head back, his hands on his hips, laughing heartily. The villagers nearby flinched, surprised at the sudden outburst.

"I thought you were about to ask for something outrageous,"

He said between laughs.

"And here I was, bracing myself. Who knows what kind of nonsense you might have blurted out if I hadn't stopped you."

Norian chuckled too, rubbing the back of his head.

"Well… you weren't entirely wrong."

Garuda clapped his scaled hands once.

"Fine. After we're done fixing the village, we'll explore the world outside together. I'll help you reach more people."

He beamed — as much as a crocodile-like face could beam.

Norian nodded with a light grin.

"Thanks,"

He said.

"But before all that…"

He rubbed his belly again.

"Food. Please. I'm really dying here."

Garuda laughed again and patted his shoulder.

"Hah! Right. I forgot."

He called out something to a nearby villager, who nodded and rushed off.

As Garuda turned back to him, Norian glanced up at the cavern ceiling.

For a moment, the warmth of conversation filled the hollow space in his chest.

-To Be Continued