You look down at the necklace, then back up at the summoner. Slowly, you reach out and pick it up, rolling the weighty object in your palm. The backside of the pendant is smooth, unmarked, though the surface glows faintly as you turn it.

  Glancing at Renee and the summoner, you see they’re both watching you intently, their eyes fixed and unblinking. You shift uncomfortably under their gaze but say nothing.

  Focusing on the necklace, you feel its warmth, a faint pulsing heat that seems to resonate in your hand. The weight of it presses into your palm, heavier than it looks. The surface appears like intertwined steel and wood, the grain-like texture glowing softly as you hold it.

  Then, a strange sensation blooms in your chest. It’s familiar—an almost instinctual recognition. You know this object.

  It’s a soul eater.

  This particular one is crafted for devil souls, you realize, though it doesn’t seem to affect you in the slightest. The realization steadies you, but when you look back at Renee and the summoner, you freeze. They haven’t moved. Both are locked in the same pose, utterly still.

  You scan the room around you. Everything is frozen. No sounds, no movement—just the faint rustle of your own clothes and the creak of the chair beneath you.

  The necklace seems to hum in your hand, drawing your attention back to it. A sharp, fresh smell fills the air—cut grass—and a pale green gas begins to seep from the pendant. It spills out like smoke, cooling the necklace as it grows colder and colder, until frost creeps across its surface.

  You drop it onto the table, startled, but instead of hitting the wood, it floats in the air. It hovers perfectly in front of your chest, moving as you shift from side to side, mirroring your every motion.

  The green gas expands rapidly, filling the room. It climbs the walls, crawls across the ceiling, and soon everything around you is hidden in a dense, emerald haze.

  Encompassed in this green void, you look at your hands. They seem… altered. Faint outlines of glowing green trace your fingers, brightest at the tips and fading as they approach your wrists. By the time the glow reaches your arms, it’s almost invisible.

  In front of you, a familiar orb materializes, a swirling permanence of vaporized green light. It hovers, locked in your vision, following your every movement. You reach for it instinctively, but it glides to the side, dodging your hand.

  You try again, lunging slightly, but the orb dances away, leaving behind a sudden explosion of tiny fireflies. The lights scatter, fluttering like sparks in the air, before they fade and reform into the orb’s original position.

  You reach again, determined. This time, you anticipate its motion, moving with it. When it tries to escape, your hand follows perfectly, catching the orb mid-flight. The moment your fingers close around it, the orb explodes again—but this time, the fireflies linger and drift away.

  A green line glows faintly in the air, marking the path the orb took. It reforms at the start of the line, and for a third time, you reach for it. This time, you know its game. Your movements align with the orb’s perfectly, guiding it to the end of the line. As your hand closes around it, the smokescreen drops, and the fireflies scatter into the distance.

  You glance down at your hands, the glowing green outlines now faintly shimmering. You realize you’re still holding the necklace with your physical hands, but it’s these green hands you’ve been controlling.

  You try to stand, but your body feels rooted in place, tethered to your seat. Moving the green hands, you position them to match the pose of your real hands. As they align, sound rushes back into the room—the hum of the tavern, distant chatter, and the familiar clink of mugs.

  The necklace drops to the table with a soft thud, and you exhale deeply, reaching for your beer. You take a long sip, the warmth grounding you as the world seems to settle once more.

  You meet the wide eyes of the summoner and Renee as you set your glass down. The summoner is fidgeting with another Potion of Sobering in his hands, his finger drumming nervously against the glass. Renee, meanwhile, looks visibly furious—her face a shade of red so intense it could rival a ripe tomato.

  Both of them start speaking at the same time.

  “What is that necklace? Did you know that would happen?” Renee demands, her voice rising in pitch as she gestures wildly between you and the summoner.

  The summoner’s voice is quieter, but no less intense as he interrupts, raising a hand with theatrical flair. “Welcome to our humble home, oh champion. We seek your help.”

  Renee whirls on him, eyes blazing. “Champion? He’s in Kevin’s body! Don’t just start recruiting him for quests or whatever it is you think champions do!”

  The summoner shifts his attention to Renee, holding up the necklace with a measured calm. “Did you see what he just did? That isn’t something Kevin—or any ordinary mortal—could manage. The signs are clear, Renee. They’ve chosen him.”

  Renee scoffs, crossing her arms as her hands fly to her hips. Her eyes narrow, and her voice trembles with frustration. “And you said Kevin wasn’t one of our most ‘able-bodied’ people.” She jabs a finger toward you, her hand trembling. “You’ve got my husband’s face, and yet you’re telling me he’s been turned into some kind of champion? My Kevin? The pacifist who wouldn’t hurt a fly? The man whose biggest battle was convincing the guild to take his experimental tools seriously?”

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  Her voice cracks, and she looks away, her fury barely masking her grief. “He wouldn’t even know what to do with violence.”

  The summoner sighs, lowering the necklace back to the table and muttering under his breath, “Perhaps another sobering potion is in order.” eyeing her with the bottle.

  “I will never, in a million harvests, take one of those,” Renee snaps, her glare sharp enough to cut. She jabs an accusatory finger in his direction. “I’m fine. I’m so fine.”

  To emphasize her point, she takes an exaggerated sip of her drink—only to pause mid-swallow. Her eyes widen as if she’s just discovered the secrets of the universe.

  “Oh my gosh. The apple juice here is amazing…” She freezes, her gaze darting suspiciously toward you. “Wait… Did you swap my drink?”

  The summoner’s brow furrows, his confusion evident as he leans forward, steepling his fingers under his chin. “You are unaware,” he says slowly, each word carefully chosen. “As one of the able chosen, you are here to serve the people. We select only the finest, strongest bodies to offer to the elves of the distant past.”

  His voice takes on a rhythmic, almost recitative quality, as if quoting something from memory—a sacred teaching he had internalized long ago.

  You blink, staring at him like he’d just started speaking in tongues. “Elves of the… what?”

  Renee looks equally baffled, the glass of apple juice hovering halfway to her lips. “Hold up. Did you just say ‘elves of the distant past?’” She sets her drink down with a thud, staring at the summoner as if he’s grown a second head. “That’s not in any of the history books I’ve ever read.”

  The summoner waves a dismissive hand. “Of course it’s not. Some truths are… inconvenient to record.”

  Renee and the summoner spiral into an increasingly heated debate, their voices rising with each exchange.

  “I’ve been working for the library since—oh, I don’t know—forever,” Renee snaps, talking with her hands. “Every book, every legible script, I’ve read them all. There’s nothing in there about this nonsense. No chosen ones, no elves from the distant past. Just myths and old wives’ tales.”

  The summoner scoffs, leaning back in his chair with a dismissive wave. “And that’s precisely why you don’t know. Public libraries hold public knowledge, Renee. Some truths are buried deeper—restricted to those who need to know. Like me.”

  Renee glares at him, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, of course. You would know. Because clearly, you’re the authority on everything hidden and important.”

  “You’d be surprised what I know,” the summoner retorts, his tone sharp.

  Their argument blurs in your mind, the words fading into background noise as your focus begins to drift. Reality feels... odd. Frayed, as though the edges of the room are unraveling.

  Your eyes wander, first to the table, then down to your hands. They rest on your lap, still as ever, but something isn’t right. Slowly, you lift them, palms up.

  Outlines—thin and white—trace the shape of your hands, glowing faintly. The light is brightest at your fingertips, fading to translucence by the wrists. It’s similar to the green glow from earlier, but subtler this time.

  You glance up instinctively, searching for the green line you’d seen before. Nothing. Still, you repeat the gesture anyway, your fingers moving as they had during the orb’s dance.

  A faint hum fills the air, cutting through Renee and the summoner’s bickering. They stop mid-sentence, their eyes snapping to you with a mix of anticipation and wariness.

  The light drains from your hands, converging at your fingertips. A faint glow lingers as a soft, gaseous shape materializes above the table—a hexagonal pane, shimmering faintly like it’s struggling to hold itself together.

  The summoner leans forward, his voice low and sharp. “Focus, Hold it steady.”

  Renee stares, her earlier frustration replaced with something else entirely—hope, fear, or maybe both. “What… is that?”

  You feel the pane’s pull, a delicate tension like holding a fragile thread. “It feels… restrained,” you murmur, unsure if you’re speaking to them or yourself.

  The words slur as a wave of dizziness washes over you. Your vision begins to ripple, dark shadows crawling into the edges of your sight. The pane tugs harder, pulling at something deep within you. Your arms feel leaden, and you slump forward, leaning against the table for support, but your focus stays locked on the glowing shape.

  “Take this!”

  The summoner’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp and commanding. He’s suddenly at your side, the necklace clenched tightly in his fist. Without waiting for a response, he presses the object into your limp hand, resting on the table.

  The moment the necklace touches your skin, it erupts in a brilliant green glow. Energy surges through your palm, spreading to your fingertips and coursing through your veins like sunlight piercing a dense fog. Your vision sharpens, the dark ripples retreating into nothingness. The smell of fresh-cut grass floods your senses again, grounding you in an overwhelming clarity.

  “Your eyes—” Renee’s voice rises in a startled squeal. She pushes back from the table, her hands pressed to her chest. “They’re green!”

  You glance upward. The pane above the table has changed. No longer restless, its chaotic energy has been replaced by a steady pale green glow, calm and deliberate, as though it has come under your control.

  A strange sense of clarity lingers in your palms, sharp and tactile. You can see everything with striking precision, especially the pane. You focus on it, your hands glowing faintly again as the pane begins to expand.

  It grows larger and larger, until it collides with the pitcher on the table. It topples, spilling across the wood and rushing straight into your lap.

  The icy shock snaps your focus. You jolt upright as the pane shatters, exploding into a swarm of luminous green fireflies that scatter in all directions, their light fading as they vanish into the air.

  Blinking, slightly annoyed, you glance down at your soaked lap before turning a questioning gaze toward the summoner. He stands nearby, his shoulders tense, his breathing uneven. His wide eyes meet yours, and for a moment, he looks like he’s seen a ghost.

  “You really don’t know what you’re doing, do you?” His voice is sharp, tinged with disbelief and exasperation. “You’re far too powerful for your own good, young man!”

  Before you can answer, he turns abruptly, muttering something under his breath. His face flushes a deep red, and you see him visibly swallow back whatever unprofessional remark was perched on his tongue.

  After a deep breath, he straightens his posture, forcing calm into his tone. “I have seen elves perish for far less. Please… be careful. I do not know much about these rituals, nor can I guide you in honing this craft.” He hesitates, his gaze steady and firm.

  Renee cut in, her voice sharp. “I don’t understand. If you seem to know so much about these rituals, shouldn’t you be the perfect guide? How did you even know this necklace was special to begin with?”