I will become the ice jellyfish queen with the Chat Group

[Grey Pov]

I bolted deeper into the cave.

Not because I looked like some horrifying abyssal nightmare—totally not the reason.

No, the real issue? I was completely naked and it would take time to create new ones.

I could hear the voices behind me, their footsteps picking up speed. They were following.

[???]: It's moving! After it!

[???]: What is that thing?! The space around it is—it's warping!

I glanced at the jagged cave walls as I ran. Sure enough, reality was bending slightly wherever I passed. The rocks twisted and shimmered, like heat waves distorting the air.

Great. I wasn't just an eldritch horror—I was an eldritch horror that caused glitches in reality.

[Rogue]: "We need to get a better look—don't let it escape!"

Oh, hell no.

I gritted my teeth and focused. My body was still unfamiliar, but I willed my abilities to work. Shadowy tendrils curled around my arms, and dark silk-like material wove itself over my body, forming simple black robes.

Better. Now I was just a horrifying space-warping monster instead of a naked horrifying space-warping monster.

Then—

A wall of stone appeared ahead.

I skidded to a stop—dead end.

The voices grew louder. The light from their torches cast long, flickering shadows as they approached.

No choice. I turned to face them.

Their eyes and mine widened.

They were... Dwarfs, a team of armed Dwarven men. Some wore the same armor, others had different stuff, candles on their hats, and some were just half naked. A Dwarf with a grey beard looked like the leader.

[Dwarf Greybeard]: By the gods—a Chaos Cultist!

I blinked. Chaos Cultist? Oh, right. Because I looked like a walking nightmare.

The dwarves scrambled into defensive stances. Axes, hammers, crossbows—they were ready to fight.

[Dwarf with No Shirt]: Look at its bloody eyes! One's a clock, the other's a hole in reality!

[Young Dwarf with Too Much Armor]: It's warpin' the air around it! Definitely Chaos!

[Dwarf with the Biggest Beard]: I say we bash it first, ask questions later!

Okay. This was getting out of hand.

I took a slow step forward. They tensed.

[Grey]: "I'm not a Chaos Cultist."

My voice echoed weirdly, like multiple versions of myself speaking at once, layering over each other with a slight delay. Worse, I had accidentally projected my voice directly into their minds.

Their reactions were immediate—and not great.

[Dwarf Greybeard]: Aye, that's exactly what a Chaos Cultist would say!

[Young Dwarf in Too Much Armor]: By the ancestors, it speaks into our heads! It's corruptin' our minds already!

[Dwarf With No Shirt]: Oi, my thoughts feel slimy! I don't like it!

The biggest-bearded dwarf turned pale.

[The biggest-bearded dwarf]: It's a mind-breakin' horror! We need to put it down before it warps reality more than it already 'has!

I sighed.

[Grey]: Okay. This is escalating too fast—

[Dwarfs]: BASH 'IM!

Before I could react, the dwarves charged.

Axes gleamed. Hammers rose. Crossbows clicked. A full-on dwarven execution squad was coming at me.

…Welp. Time to run like hell.

I turned, ready to bolt—

BOOM.

The ground trembled as a section of the tunnel collapsed inward. Dust and debris exploded outward, swallowing the flickering torchlight. From the darkness, they emerged.

An army of ratmen.

Their bodies were hunched and twisted, fur matted with filth. Beady red eyes gleamed with malice. Their crude weapons—jagged swords, rusted spears, and wickedly curved blades—caught the light as they rushed forward in a chittering, screeching wave.

[Ratman Warlord]: Kill dwarf-things! Yes-yes! Take cave! Take WARP STONE! Yes-yes!

The battlefield fell silent.

One moment, the ratmen had been screeching in triumph, their sheer numbers promising an overwhelming massacre.

The next, their warlord's head was rolling across the bloodied stone floor.

Half their forces lay in pieces—limbs severed, bodies crumpled, their filth-stained weapons clattering to the ground.

The remaining ratmen froze, their beady red eyes darting between their fallen comrades and the towering, impossibly fast figure that had culled them like wheat before the scythe.

Then, as one—

[Ratman]: RUN! YES-YES! RUN!

The once-ferocious horde collapsed into chaos, scrambling over each other, trampling their own wounded in a desperate attempt to flee back into the tunnels from which they came.

Within seconds, they were gone.

I exhaled, cracking my neck as I surveyed the carnage.

A deep, heavy silence settled over the cavern.

I turned back toward the dwarves. They were staring at me.

Mouths slightly open. Eyes wide. Weapons still raised but forgotten in their grips.

Even the oldest among them—the grizzled veterans who had likely seen horrors beyond counting—looked pale.

[Grey]: Now can we talk

[Five minutes later]

I told them the best lie I have come up with on the spot

[Dwarf Greybeard]: So you're a wizard who got merged with something called a jellyfish and was teleported in time and space to save the past

I nodded sagely.

[Grey]: That's exactly right.

A long silence followed.

The dwarves exchanged glances. A few scratched their beards, muttering under their breath. One of them looked like he was contemplating his entire life.

Then, after a long sigh, Greybeard rubbed his temples.

[Dwarf Greybeard]: Lad… that is the dumbest, most overcomplicated load of troll-shite I've ever heard in me centuries of livin'.

[Grey]: I do have proof, look at the future weapons we call them guns

I showed the dwarf a couple of pistols and AKs I had stored a long time ago, and let them use them 

The dwarves stood in stunned silence, their thick fingers wrapped around the foreign, yet oddly familiar-feeling weapons I had just handed them.

One of them—a particularly burly dwarf with a scarred face—examined the AK with an expert's eye, his calloused hands running over the sleek metal.

Another dwarf, younger but with a keen gaze, took hold of a pistol and squinted down the iron sights. He muttered something in Dwarvish, likely a prayer or curse, before cautiously pulling the trigger.

BANG.

The gunshot echoed violently through the cave. The bullet slammed into the cavern wall, leaving a clean, smoking hole in the rock.

Silence.

The dwarves just stared at it.

Then at me.

Then at the weapon.

Then back at me.

[Dwarf Greybeard]: By the forge of me ancestors...

One of the younger dwarves nearly dropped the rifle in shock. Another quickly snatched it up, turning it over in his hands like he'd just been gifted a holy relic.

[Burly Scarred Dwarf]: What kinda runic magic is this?!

[Dwarf Greybeard]: That ain't magic, lad, That's somethin' else entirely.

The old dwarf turned to me, eyes narrowing.

[Dwarf Greybeard]: Alright, wizard-turned-jellyfish-man… ya got me attention. But if ya wanna prove yer story, we're gonna need more than fancy future weapons.

I smirked, folding my arms.

[Grey]: Oh? And what exactly do you want?

The dwarves exchanged glances, then Greybeard grinned.

[Dwarf Greybeard]: Tell me, lad... ever fight a dragon?

[Chapter end]