My consciousness was synced with HyperSpace, my mind immersed in its endless expanse. I sat comfortably in my virtual personal lounge, scrolling through the never-ending threads of conversations in the chat room dedicated to meta natures and recent headlines. It was a chaotic stream of queries, news, and speculative chatter—some of it helpful, much of it noise.


    I narrowed my focus, searching for clues or connections that could lead me to someone in my city with magical meta nature. My goal was clear: to find someone capable of casting a permanent spell on me, ideally something to shield my mind from external intrusions. It would be tricky to convince someone to part with such a spell, but with the right price everything was possible.


    I entered a chart room and started to read through the older post.


    <hr>


    [Question] Help with recurring bad dreams?


    <blockquote>


    I’ve had the same bad dream over and over for the last three months. Can anybody recommend someone who can help me with the problem?


    Replies:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Could be natural, could be someone messing with your head. Hard to tell these days.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Check if anyone new has moved into your building. Dream manipulation usually needs proximity.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">My cousin had something similar. Turned out to be a neighbor testing their powers.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Have you considered reaching out to a psychic or meta who specializes in dreams? There’s a woman in South Ward who might help.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">It might also be stress. Try documenting your dreams to see if there’s a pattern or message in them..</li>


    </ul>


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    [Thread] Metahuman controlling women in the East District??


    <blockquote>


    Recently, some metahuman in the East District has been going around controlling women, raping them, and leaving them in abandoned places. Does anyone have any idea which group he belongs to?


    Replies:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">No confirmation yet, but a rumor suggests he''s part of the Black Lotus Gang.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">My sister''s friend was almost taken last week. She said the guy had some kind of hypnotic power.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Metahumans calling themselves Heroes are useless as usual. They claim they''re investigating but nothing happens.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">This sounds beyond awful. Why hasn’t anyone taken action against this yet? Are the authorities even looking into it?</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Does anyone know if there’s a hotline or support group for victims in this district? People need to speak up before it’s too late.</li>


    </ul>


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    [Event] Guru Sankalpa visiting next month


    <blockquote>


    Everyone, important notice: Superhero Guru Sankalpa will be visiting next month. Anyone interested in meditation and inner peace should attend his event.


    Replies:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">I’ve heard great things about Guru Sankalpa. Even skeptics say his methods work, but only if you’re open to them.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Inner peace wasn’t exactly on my list, but Guru Sankalpa was well-known for his mind meta nature abilities. He could connect people with their higher selves—or so they said. I bookmarked the event. If I didn’t find someone else sooner, he might be my next best shot.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">A friend of mine said he went to one of these events last year. The energy in the room was unreal.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Be careful with these “higher self” metas. Sometimes they unlock things you’re not ready to handle.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Is this a paid event? Or is it open to the public?</li>


    </ul>


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    [Request] Ways to grow telekinesis power?


    <blockquote>


    Anyone have any idea how to grow their telekinesis power? I’d be very interested if anyone knows exercises or meditations—anything will work as long as it’s not harmful to my body.


    Replies:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Try MindFlow, it''s very expensive sensory exercise and hard to find, but it deeply expands mental abilities. Expensive, but effective.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Don''t waste money on HyperMindFlow, it''s just overpriced meditation techniques.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">My brother tried it. Said it worked but gave him migraines.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">The real stuff is invite-only. What you find on the market is usually diluted.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">I’ve heard telekinesis can improve through deep-focus practices like lucid dreaming or sensory deprivation.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Be wary of shady programs. Some can mess with your brain instead of helping it.</li>


    </ul>


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    [Heads Up] West Ward elemental guy torching hideouts


    <blockquote>


    Be careful in the West Ward. There’s been talk of a guy with elemental abilities—fire, maybe plasma. Witnesses say he’s been torching gang hideouts and leaving graffiti messages in the ashes. ‘Judgment for the wicked,’ or something edgy like that.


    Replies:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">A vigilante? A lunatic? No one’s sure, but one of my buddies saw the aftermath last night, and he’s freaked out. Says the bodies weren’t just burned—they were... melted.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">That sounds horrifying. If he’s targeting gang hideouts, why are the bodies left like that? Is he sending a message?</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">I live near the West Ward, and I’ve noticed a lot of increased fire damage in certain areas recently.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">What happens if he starts targeting civilians? Someone needs to stop this guy before things get worse.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Melted bodies? That sounds more like plasma than fire to me. Could he be experimenting with his powers?</li>


    </ul>


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    [Rumor] Mimic guy in South Downtown


    <blockquote>


    Anyone hear about the guy near South Downtown who can mimic voices? There’s rumors he’s working with some crew, posing as people’s friends or family to lure them out. Couple of disappearances linked to him, but nothing concrete. Someone said they heard a recording—it sounded exactly like the missing person. Creepy as hell.


    Replies:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">This is nightmare fuel. Imagine hearing someone you trust calling you, only to find out it’s not them.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Sounds like he’s part of an organized crew. Mimic abilities are way too dangerous to handle solo.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">How do you defend against something like this? Carry voice verification tools?</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">If anyone has seen or heard more details, please share them. This is terrifying.</li>


    </ul>


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    [Warning] North Point docks after midnight


    <blockquote>


    North Point docks are a no-go after midnight. People say there’s a metahuman with shadow abilities hanging around, snatching up smugglers.


    They don’t just disappear, though—whatever’s left of them gets dumped in the water, sliced up like they were dissected. No one’s seen him clearly, but rumor is he moves like he’s part of the darkness itself. If you’ve got any business there, wrap it up before sundown.


    Replies:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">I had a friend who worked near the docks and quit after seeing something. He wouldn’t talk about it, though.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">The way he ‘moves like darkness’ sounds like full-on shadow manipulation. Not many metas have that.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">This person might be trying to clean up crime, but their methods are horrifying.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">If the smugglers are the target, maybe the authorities are turning a blind eye to this.</li>


    </ul>


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    [Scam Alert] Healer in West Market


    <blockquote>


    West Market’s got a new street preacher. Guy claims to heal people with a touch, but there’s a catch—his ‘cures’ don’t last. When it wears off, they say the pain’s ten times worse.


    Someone confronted him, said he’s draining life energy to keep himself going. Not sure if it’s true, but the guy who accused him vanished a few hours later.


    Replies:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">I’ve heard about this guy. If the accusations are true, he’s way more dangerous than he seems.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Life energy draining? That sounds like something straight out of horror stories.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">If you go to him, make sure someone knows where you are or bring your friends with you. This disappearance stuff is no joke.</li>


    </ul>


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    [Do Not Interact] West side healer


    <blockquote>


    DO NOT INTERACT with that guy on the west side claiming to be a healer. My friend went to him for help with his chronic pain. He came back missing all feeling in his legs.


    The healer said the pain’s ‘trapped somewhere else now.’ What does that even mean?! And why can’t anyone find him after this?


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    [Danger] Telepath in West Bridge—''The Shepherd''


    <blockquote>


    West Bridge area: avoid if you can. There''s a telepath roaming around, calling himself ''The Shepherd.'' People are saying he doesn''t just read minds—he rewrites them.


    Found a guy wandering last week, couldn’t even remember his own name. He just kept mumbling, ‘The flock grows.’ Police tried to question him, but he barely reacted.


    What’s worse? There’s been three more like him since. No IDs, no past, just... nothing left.


    Replies:‘


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">‘The flock grows’? This guy sounds like he’s building some kind of cult.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">How do you protect yourself against a telepath who can rewrite minds?</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">What happens to the people he takes? Do they ever recover? Someone needs to intervene.</li>


    </ul>


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    [URGENT] Missing person—Riverside Park


    <blockquote>


    My sister is missing. Last seen near Riverside Park. She mentioned meeting some guy who claimed he could ‘cleanse sins.’


    Sounds like that faith-healer meta who’s been scamming people for months, but this one’s different. Saw him once—eyes like he hadn’t slept in years. Something about him made my skin crawl.


    If you’ve seen her or know anything, please PM me. I’ll pay for info.


    Replies:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">I’m so sorry to hear this. That guy sounds like trouble. I’ll keep an eye out.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">‘Cleanse sins’? That sounds like he’s targeting vulnerable people. I’ll share this in my community group.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Did she leave behind anything that might help track her? A note, her phone?</li>


    </ul>


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    <blockquote>


    [Creepy] Meta-vampire in East Side?


    East Side: bodies found drained of blood. Second case this month. Meta-vampire, maybe? Keep your necks covered.


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    <blockquote>


    [Threat] Targeting low-tier metas in South District


    South District: someone’s targeting low-tier metas. They find your weakness, exploit it, and... make an example out of you.


    Caught a glimpse of one of the victims—some guy with stone skin. His arms were shattered, bits of rock scattered everywhere like gravel.


    Whoever did it left a note carved into his chest: ‘You’re next.’


    Replies:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">This is horrific. Whoever’s behind this is sending a message, but to whom?</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Low-tier metas are easy targets. We need to find out if this is someone purging weaker metas or just a sadistic killer.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Shattered stone skin? That takes some serious strength or precision. Whoever did this knows what they’re doing.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">If you’re a meta in South District, don’t walk alone. This person clearly enjoys targeting vulnerabilities.</li>


    </ul>


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    [Fun Topic] Coolest meta nature you’ve seen in real life?


    <blockquote>


    Let’s lighten the mood a bit. What’s the coolest meta ability you’ve personally witnessed? For me, it was someone who could turn their whole body into this shimmering crystal form. It was like a living gemstone. Absolutely wild.


    Replies:


    <ul>


    <li>I once met someone who could turn their breath into swirling, glowing mist that told stories—like holographic fairy tales. It wasn’t just random shapes; it would act out legends, history, or even personal memories!</li>


    <li>A guy I met could create illusions of alternate realities. You’d see yourself in an entirely different life for a few seconds—like living a dream version of your day.</li>


    <li>I saw someone who could turn sound into visible patterns, almost like holographic sound waves. They could paint music in the air.</li>


    <li>One time, I met a person who could weave strands of wind like threads. They’d make scarves and ribbons from pure air, and you could actually wear them.</li>


    <li>


    There was this person who could ‘breathe’ life into objects. They’d take a stick or rock, and it would sprout legs or wings and scuttle around for a few minutes.


    <ul>


    <li>


    Watching them turn a pile of junk into a temporary mini-zoo was both hilarious and awe-inspiring.


    </li>


    </ul>


    </li>


    </ul>


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    [Curiosity] Meta pets—do they exist?


    <blockquote>


    Okay, hear me out: has anyone ever heard of animals with meta abilities? I saw this dog yesterday that seemed to sense things before they happened. Could metas exist in animals too, or am I imagining things?


    Replies:


    <ul>


    <li>Yes! I’ve heard of meta pets, but they’re super rare. Usually, it happens in animals exposed to strong Meta Aspect.</li>


    <li>There was a cat in my neighborhood that seemed to disappear and reappear randomly. Could’ve been a meta pet.</li>


    <li>I think it’s possible. Some animals are already super perceptive, so adding powers wouldn’t be a huge stretch.</li>


    <li>If meta animals exist, they’re probably better at hiding than humans. Makes sense, right?</li>


    </ul>


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    [Advice] Balancing a meta ability with a normal job?


    <blockquote>


    Let’s talk about the challenge of juggling a normal job while having a meta ability that’s… not exactly practical or easy to hide. In a world where everyone has a power, but most are less "super" and more "meh," how do you integrate it into daily life?


    I’ll start: I can precisely time when popcorn will pop. It’s not exactly world-changing, but it’s great for hosting movie nights. However, in my day job as an office assistant, it’s completely useless—unless you count being the designated snack-break hero. Still, it’s tough not to feel like I should be doing more with it.


    So, how do you handle your meta nature in a regular job? Do you hide it? Embrace it? Work around it? Share your tips or challenges!


    Replies:


    <ul>


    <li>My meta nature is making paper slightly heavier. At first, it felt pointless, but I work in an art store now, and customers think I’m showing them ‘high-quality’ paper stock when they feel the weight difference. I leaned into it, and now it’s part of my charm.</li>


    <li>I can detect which chairs are wobbly. It’s weirdly specific, but as a furniture assembler, it’s a game-changer. I catch quality issues before anyone else does. Sometimes, the right niche turns a ‘meh’ power into a win.</li>


    <li>I glow faintly in the dark. It’s weird, but my coworkers started calling me ‘The Night Light’ during night shifts. Now it feels like a badge of honor instead of something I need to hide. Embrace the quirks!</li>


    <li>My meta nature is making flowers bloom instantly, but only one at a time. Not useful in a florist shop, but at weddings? It’s a hit. Clients love the special touch during ceremonies.</li>


    <li>I can slightly warp reflections in mirrors. I started working at an escape room and use it to add extra creepiness to the puzzles. People think it’s part of the design!</li>


    </ul>


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    [Fun Topic] What’s the most hilariously useless meta nature you’ve heard of?


    <blockquote>


    I was chatting with a friend about this, and she told me about someone whose power was the ability to make food taste slightly more salty—just slightly. What are the funniest or most "why does this exist" powers you’ve encountered?


    Replies:


    <ul>


    <li>There’s a guy in my apartment complex who can always find the nearest remote control. He’s basically useless unless we’re watching TV.</li>


    <li>I knew a girl who could only make her hair grow faster. She made a side hustle out of being a human wig factory.</li>


    <li>There’s a guy at my gym who can change the direction of air currents, but only small ones. It’s great for fanning himself during workouts.</li>


    <li>I met someone whose meta nature was to make beverages fizz. She calls herself the "Soda Queen," but it’s really just fancy carbonation.</li>


    <li>My cousin can make people sneeze, but only if they’re already on the verge of sneezing. It’s the most annoying power ever.</li>


    <li>A coworker has the ability to unstick zippers. Useful? Kind of. Impressive? Not really.</li>


    </ul>


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    [Discussion] How do you make peace with a “pointless” meta nature?


    <blockquote>


    I’ll admit it, my meta nature is completely useless (I can make milk spoil faster—gross, I know). How do you learn to accept a power that has no practical use and no chance of becoming cool?


    Comments:


    <ul>


    <li>Hey, every meta nature has some use. Spoiled milk? Instant excuse to skip family dinners with that weird cousin. Perspective is everything.</li>


    <li>First off, stop calling it pointless. Every meta nature has potential, even if it’s not immediately obvious. Start thinking of it as a quirky trait rather than a ''failure.'' That shift alone helps a lot.</li>


    <li>My meta nature is to make things slightly sticky, but only for about ten seconds. I started pranking my coworkers with sticky pens and staplers, and it turned into an inside joke. Just have fun with it!</li>


    <li>I can grow a single flower on my head. Useless? Maybe. But it’s a great conversation starter at parties.</li>


    <li>My power is to make food taste slightly saltier. It sounds silly, but now I’m the designated taste-tester at restaurants. I’ve saved my friends from some seriously under-seasoned meals!</li>


    <li>Ask yourself: what makes you you? Your power might be a small part of your personality, but it’s not the whole picture. Focus on what you love, not just what you can or can’t do.</li>


    <li>Try to find the humor in it. I can make cheese melt slightly faster than normal, and now my friends call me “The Nacho King.” Embrace the absurdity.</li>


    <li>At least your meta nature has no side effects. I can glow faintly in the dark, which is cool until you’re trying to sleep and your whole body looks like a weak flashlight.</li>


    <li>I can turn paper transparent for a few seconds. Turns out, my useless power is great for party tricks.</li>


    <li>Pointless meta nature can still make you memorable. People love hearing about the bizarre stuff we can do. Own it.</li>


    <li>Turn your power into a skill. For example, if you can spoil milk faster, maybe you could learn to master fermentation or even make cheese faster! Explore adjacent hobbies where your power shines.</li>


    <li>Don’t compare your meta nature to others’. Someone else might have an amazing power, but they might be struggling with other things you don’t see. We all have our unique challenges.</li>


    <li>If your meta nature isn’t satisfying, work on a skill or talent that you can control. Becoming really good at something else will make you feel more balanced and less fixated on your ability.</li>


    <li>


    Hey, my power is to make ice cubes evaporate faster. No one’s impressed, but I’ve become the ultimate cocktail party helper—''Oops, guess you’ll need another drink!'' It’s a win-win.


    </li>


    </ul>


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    [Challenge] What’s the weirdest way you’ve turned a useless meta nature into a win?


    <blockquote>


    Let’s share stories about how we’ve turned the weird or useless into something awesome. I’ll go first: my power is being able to predict when popcorn will pop, so I started hosting movie nights where I pop the perfect batch every time. It’s become a huge hit with my friends.


    Replies:


    <ul>


    <li>I can magnetize coins, so I started a game with my friends where we bet on who can stack them the highest. Turns out, I’m unbeatable.</li>


    <li>I can “summon” dust bunnies. It’s gross, but I use it to freak people out at work and avoid boring meetings.</li>


    <li>I can untangle any cord or string just by looking at it. I’ve become the unofficial ‘Tech Support Wizard’ at work, saving countless headphone wires and phone chargers.</li>


    <li>I can make soda fizz more, so I’ve started entering speed-chug contests at parties. I always win because no one else can handle the extra fizz. What more, I have even earned myself a superhero name, my fans calls me, "Soda Queen."</li>


    <li>I can fold paper perfectly every time. I started making custom origami for friends, and now they think I’m a genius.</li>


    <li>My ability to instantly cool beverages makes me the hero of summer barbecues. I’m basically the walking fridge.</li>


    </ul>


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    [Thread] If you could trade your useless meta nature for another useless one, what would it be?


    <blockquote>


    Let’s be honest, most of us aren’t stopping crime or saving the world with our abilities. If you could swap your “meh” meta nature for another equally pointless one, what would it be? For example, I’d trade my power to detect weak spots in eggshells instantly for the ability to make soda cans cold just by touching them.


    Comments:


    <ul>


    <li>I’d trade my meta nature to detect spoiled food (which is just gross) for the ability to always know when the toast is done.</li>


    <li>I’d give up my ability to grow extra fingernails (ew) for the ability to make it always rain lightly when I want it to.</li>


    <li>I’d trade my “change the flavor of gum” power for the ability to always find my keys.</li>


    <li>My current power lets me make pens write smoother. I’d happily swap that for the ability to always step into the perfect shower temperature.</li>


    <li>I’d ditch my ability to repel mosquitoes (weird flex, I know) for the ability to always win at rock-paper-scissors.</li>


    </ul>


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    [Curiosity] What’s the weirdest meta side effect you’ve experienced?


    <blockquote>


    Meta natures can be unpredictable sometimes. What’s the strangest or most unexpected side effect of your ability? For me, every time I use my meta nature, my skin smells faintly like popcorn for hours. Not a bad smell, but still weird.


    Comments:


    <ul>


    <li>When I use my meta nature (making things sticky), my hair stands up like I got zapped by static electricity.</li>


    <li>I get light-headed if I use my ability to cool drinks too fast. It’s like brain freeze, but all over.</li>


    <li>After using my power to slightly change object colors, my vision goes black-and-white for a few minutes.</li>


    <li>My meta nature (causing sneezes) makes my nose itch every time I use it. Annoying as hell.</li>


    <li>Using my “glow in the dark” ability makes me incredibly hungry. No idea why.</li>


    </ul>


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    [Speculation] Could "useless" meta nature combine into something awesome?


    <blockquote>


    What if two or more useless meta nature could combine to make something incredible? For example, my ability to make plants smell like random things + someone’s power to grow plants quickly = an instant garden of great-smelling flowers. What combos can you come up with?


    Comments:


    <ul>


    <li>Someone who can make things glow + someone who can control air currents = DIY laser light shows!</li>


    <li>My shoelace-tying meta nature + someone’s ability to magnetize small objects = the perfect team for setting up tricky traps.</li>


    <li>My power to make ice cubes vanish instantly + someone who can create steam out of nowhere = a magical fog machine for spooky events.</li>


    <li>My power to find lost objects + someone’s ability to perfectly stack things = world-class tidying services.</li>


    <li>Combine glowing faintly + sweating glitter, and you’ve got the ultimate party entertainer.</li>


    </ul>


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    I spent the three hours reading through the forum posts, getting a sense of how this place operated. It was chaotic, full of half-serious questions, rumors, and occasional nuggets of real information. If you knew how to filter out the noise, you could sometimes find what you needed.


    <blockquote>


    [Request] Seeking Someone with Magic Meta Nature


    I’m looking for someone in the city with a magic meta nature. I’m open to discussing terms for a transaction—whether it’s payment, secret information you need, or another form of compensation. DM if you know someone.


    </blockquote>


    After submitting my question, I waited patiently, though I wasn’t too hopeful. Few people truly understood the nature of their spell-granted abilities. Those who did were often already in positions of power, making them highly sought after, governments kept them on classified payrolls, private organizations locked them into exclusive contracts, and criminal enterprises ensured their loyalty through less savory means.


    I''d deliberately kept my request vague about the specific type of magical meta nature needed. Whether Hive or Unique, finding anyone with genuine magical abilities would be significant progress. Mental protection spells were just the beginning - if I could establish a connection with a real practitioner, other possibilities might open up.


    My request was vague enough not to sound desperate but specific enough to draw the right kind of attention.


    The responses started coming in within minutes:


    <blockquote>


    <ul>


    <li>lol, good luck with that. Real mages don’t hang out on forums, bro.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">You’re probably just another government agent fishing for info. Pass.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Why don’t you just summon one? Oh, wait… you can’t. LOL.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">If you find someone, let me know. I’ve been trying to get a permanent invisibility spell for ages.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Magical meta nature’? What even IS that? Are we talking wizards, elementals, or those pseudo-spellcasters who just vibe in ley lines?</li>


    <li>Bro, you’re gonna get scammed SO HARD. Mark my words.</li>


    <li>Careful, dude. You’re asking for trouble with this kind of post. These people don’t like being found.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">I might know someone. What''s it worth to you?</li>


    </ul>


    </blockquote>


    I scrolled through the replies, sifting through the usual mix of trolls, skeptics, and opportunists. Most weren’t worth engaging with, but I’d expected as much. The key was to be patient.


    About thirty minutes later, a notification pinged in my messages. Someone had sent a DM:


    <blockquote>


    User: Enchanter_Moonveil


    - I might know someone. But magical favors aren’t cheap, and they aren’t easy. What exactly are you looking for?


    </blockquote>


    This was the first response that felt even remotely promising. I stared at the message for a moment before typing back. My next move would determine whether this lead was worth pursuing—or just another dead end. I hesitated only for a moment before typing my reply. Keeping my tone direct but not desperate, I sent:


    <blockquote>


    Me:


    - I need a mind shield—something permanent to protect my thoughts and memories from external interference. Are you offering, or do you know someone who can?


    </blockquote>


    I didn’t have to wait long. The notification popped up quicker than expected—too quick, in fact.


    <blockquote>


    Enchanter_Moonveil:


    - I do know someone, but I’m not sure if they might actually be able to help your certain situation. They go by the alias ‘Fae.’ They’re a recluse, but they have the kind of magic you’re looking for. You’ll need more than money to get their attention. They value things that can’t be bought. Rare artifacts, knowledge, or… interesting trades.


    </blockquote>


    I leaned back in my chair, staring at the screen. Fae. The name meant nothing to me, but that didn’t matter. If Moonveil was telling the truth, I might’ve just found a lead worth chasing. I quickly typed back:


    <blockquote>


    Me:


    - Do you have a way to contact them?


    </blockquote>


    For a moment, I hesitated. This was all coming together a bit too smoothly. Suspiciously so. My brows furrowed as I reread the exchange, doubt creeping in.


    I sat there, fingers hovering over the keyboard, but my mind was already spiraling. What if this was a trap? A con? Or worse, what if it wasn’t a scam at all, but a calculated attempt to lure me into something dangerous? The ease of it made me question not only the credibility of Moonveil but also my own knowledge—and memories.


    Then a more unsettling thought crept in: What if I’m the one missing something?


    Perhaps I had been too quick to judge.


    As I sifted through my memories, trying to piece together what I knew about magical meta-natures, I realized I wasn’t just questioning Moonveil—I was questioning myself.


    And then the realization hit me like a jolt of electricity.


    A rush of realization swept through my thoughts, the kind that left me shaken. Among the countless fragments of knowledge I carried, one surfaced with chilling clarity: events that hadn’t yet unfolded—like the End Times Discord, which would make magical meta-natures both taboo and vanishingly rare—were still decades away. Eighty-three years, to be exact.


    I shook my head, the shock fading into frustration. My memories were a tangle of timelines, overlapping and blurring together until I couldn’t tell what was past, present, or future. Unless I actively worked to organize them, this confusion would only get worse.


    I rubbed my temples, the headache forming like an old wound reopening. My own mind—so full of knowledge—was becoming a burden, and I couldn’t afford to lose focus now.


    What else am I wrong about so far?


    The question lingered, and with it, the weight of doubt settled over me like a heavy cloak. Depression crept in, slow and suffocating. I hadn’t even solved my first problem, yet here was another one knocking at my door. What kind of life was this?


    The implications were terrifying. What would happen if I couldn’t resolve these memory issues? There was a very real possibility that, in the future, I might go mad. My memories from past cycles could blur and twist until they corrupted my present judgment. Eventually, I wouldn’t be able to distinguish one timeline from another—a fate far worse than simply losing my grasp on reality.


    Before I could sink further into my spiral of worry, another notification flashed across the screen:


    <blockquote>


    Enchanter_Moonveil:


    - Twenty-five thousand hyperspace credits for rough details. Exact location and full information, one hundred thousand.


    </blockquote>


    I opened my HyperSpace account to check my balance. Just over a hundred and fifty thousand credits remained—the last of my betting money that I’d transferred into my digital wallet. Fortunately, the lottery payout I was expecting would hit my account in a day or two, so even if this was a scam, I wouldn’t be entirely broke.


    Still, I hesitated. What if this person was just another scammer? But on the other hand, what if they weren’t?


    I weighed my options. The credits would either lead me to someone who could help protect myself, or I’d be wasting a small fortune on another dead end. It was a risk, but at this point, what choice did I have?


    After a moment’s consideration, I authorized the transfer. The credits vanished from my account instantly—no way to take it back now.


    Almost immediately, a reply appeared:


    <blockquote>


    Enchanter_Moonveil:


    “If you visit the One Stop Convenience in the west district, the shop owner there deals in magical exchanges. Ask for ‘Kavi.’ Tell him you’re looking for Fae, and he might point you in the right direction. But be careful. Fae isn’t someone to trifle with.”


    </blockquote>


    I stared at the message, reading it over a few times to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was something.


    Outside my window, the moon hung bright in the night sky. I leaned back, letting the glow wash over the room as I contemplated my next steps.


    Tomorrow, I’d visit the One Stop Convenience. Whether this lead would bring me closer to solving my problems or land me in even more trouble, I’d find out soon enough.


    For now, I logged off, my thoughts swirling between anticipation and unease.


    <hr>


    The next day, I found myself abruptly yanked into the academy emergency stairwell by the arrogant dragon. Its grip was unyielding, and fear kept me frozen as it pressed me firmly against the cold stone wall. Its fierce eyes locked onto mine, intense and unwavering, its sharp claws pinning me in place. The air around us crackled with magic, the stairwell doors sealed shut by some ancient force, cutting off any chance of escape.


    Just as panic threatened to overwhelm me, drown me, but then—unexpectedly—its demeanor began to shift. The ferocity in its eyes gave way to something softer, something curious. It lowered its massive head, sniffing my neck with the careful intensity of a predator catching a scent. Its deep, heated breath ghosted against my skin, leaving it tingling. The fire in its exhale didn’t burn; it lingered, singeing in a way that felt strangely alive.


    And then, as if responding to some invisible call, the dragon’s form began to change. The monstrous scales faded, replaced by smooth, delicate skin. In moments, the fearsome beast had transformed into a strikingly beautiful girl. Her lips, warm and impossibly soft, pressed against mine with an urgency that left me no room to resist.


    I surrendered to the inevitable. The force of her presence was overwhelming, and her lips consumed every rational thought. My hands found her waist, pulling her closer as I flipped our positions, pressing her back against the wall. Her breath hitched, her skin warm beneath my touch. My lips trailed down her neck, tasting the warmth of her skin, and she shivered under the touch. Her hands clung to my shoulders, holding me in place as if afraid I might slip away.


    “Wait,” she whispered, her voice unsteady, a mix of embarrassment and desire. Her cheeks were flushed, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she caught her breath. Her eyes—bright, intense, and locked on mine—betrayed the conflict within her.


    “We should go home early,” she said softly, though her words wavered as her gaze lingered on my lips, refusing to pull away.


    “Huh?” I gasped, my lips brushing hers, but gently I refused. “Not today.”


    Her expression faltered for the first time, and in her eyes, I saw something I hadn’t expected—a tinge of sadness.


    “I have some important work,” I said softly, my thumb brushing against her soft cheek. The warmth of her skin seemed to calm the storm between us, even as the moment felt impossibly fragile. “But we can meet in the evening.”


    Her gaze lowered, her voice subdued. “Hmmm.”


    What was that supposed to mean?


    Her hand moved slowly, hesitating for a fraction of a second before her fingers brushed against my lips. The touch was light, almost tentative. For a moment, I froze. With surprising care, she wiped away the faint pink shade left behind by her lip gloss. It tasted sweet though.


    She then took a small step back. I watched her reconstruct her composure piece by piece.


    “Do I…” She paused, her voice faltering for the first time. “Do I look okay?”


    I blinked, caught off guard by the question. The once-arrogant dragon now seemed uncertain, her hands brushing down her clothing as if smoothing invisible creases. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips slightly redder than usual, evidence of what had just happened between us.


    “You look perfect,” I said honestly, unable to stop the small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.


    She glanced up at me, her lips twitching as though she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. “Perfect?”


    I did a second careful scan, “Though your hair could use a little fixing.”


    Her eyes narrowed, her confidence snapping back into place like a rubber band. “Oh, really?”


    “Yes, really. And I’m just the person for the job,” I chuckled, reaching out to gently straighten a stray strand of her hair. She had chosen a wavy chop for today, and they looked quite good on her.


    For a moment, she stood still, letting me adjust her hair without protest. But when I finished, she pulled back slightly, crossing her arms with an exaggerated pout. “What would you do without me looking presentable?”


    “Cry,” I said, deadpan, earning a snort of laughter from her.


    The tension between us softened, our eyes no longer filled with the same intensity.


    However, I realized, the arrogant dragon was still there in her eyes, but it had been gentled by acceptance. I reached out with my hand, wiping out a smudge on her check. Her skin was warm under my fingertips. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, leaning into my touch like she was testing the boundaries of trust.


    As we just stood in silence, I couldn’t help but marvel at her ability to pull off any fashion. She was wearing a bright mustard-yellow open-knit sweater, its oversized sleeves flaring just past her wrists, layered effortlessly over a mini black top that peeked through the sheer texture. The sweater hung loosely, giving her a relaxed air, while her olive-green cargo pants sat high on her waist, cinched perfectly with a brown leather belt. A pink faux fur handbag dangled from her hand, its soft texture a playful contrast to the rugged utility of her pants. She looked impeccable as ever.


    And when she didn’t try to bite me, she was very adorable.


    “What?” she asked.


    “Nothing,” I said.


    <hr>


    I made my way down the crowded road, flanked by rows of old, antique homes that seemed to whisper stories of another time. My phone was in hand, maps open, as I hunted for the elusive One Stop Convenience Store. The directions from Enchanter_Moonveil in our HyperSpace chat had seemed simple enough at the time, but reality had other plans: the search revealed five locations with names suspiciously close to “One Stop Convenience” scattered across the sprawl of the West District.


    Considering the sheer size of the district and number of municipalities crammed within it, I suppose I should’ve been grateful there were only five. It could’ve been twenty.


    Still, I couldn’t help but curse myself for not demanding a proper address yesterday. What had I been thinking? Oh, right—I wasn’t. In my rush to secure the information, I’d completed the transaction without double-checking a single detail.


    Impulsiveness. It was unbecoming of someone with the mental age and experience of three centuries. Time traveler or not, I should’ve known better. The growing chaos in my mind—the erratic thoughts, the fragmented focus—it wasn’t just annoying; it was dangerous. Moreover, it wasn’t sustainable, not in this relentless race where precision and patience were everything.


    I needed to get a grip. Meditation, that’s what I needed. I hadn’t done it in… well, a while. Too long, clearly. If I couldn’t clear this mental clutter soon, it wouldn’t matter how many centuries of wisdom I’d accumulated. I’d lose the race by tripping over my own damn shoelaces.


    Back to the task at hand. The first two hours of my day were wasted trudging to the wrong locations.


    The first “One Stop” was just a regular corner shop. Its owner—an older man who looked like he’d seen one too many wannabe adventurers traipsing through his aisles—gave me the kind of look reserved for shoplifters and weirdos. I lingered too long anyway, hoping for a sign of something more, but left empty-handed. The second was even worse: a shell of a building, its windows so coated in grime they looked painted over. Clearly abandoned. I considered poking around inside for a hot second but decided against it.


    After another fifteen minutes of walking, I finally stumbled upon what might have been the right place: a modest-looking store wedged between two old, weathered houses. If I hadn’t been carefully checking every gap between buildings, I would’ve walked right past it. The brick facade blended seamlessly with its neighbors, and even the small display window seemed designed to deflect attention. The whole setup whispered, “Keep moving, nothing to see here.”


    I let out a long breath, pausing to double-check the store name above the entrance. The letters were faded, barely legible, but I read them twice just to be sure: One Stop Convenience Store.


    This was it—or so I hoped.


    Without hesitation, I stepped inside, triggering a faint jingle from the doorbell above. The air inside was heavy, carrying the faint scent of old paper and something medicinal that I couldn’t quite place.


    Behind the counter stood a man in his late fifties, his South Asian features weathered but sharp. He radiated the quiet confidence of someone who had seen more than his fair share of strange customers and stranger stories.


    For a moment, I hesitated, taking in the rows of mismatched shelves and the eclectic assortment of goods that seemed more like someone’s forgotten attic than a functioning store. But I was too exhausted from my morning''s wild goose chase to bother with subtlety. I walked directly to the counter.


    “I was told by a friend that you can tell me where Kavi is? I’m here to meet him.”


    The words came out blunt, almost resigned. If this was another dead end, so be it.


    The man didn’t answer right away. His sharp, observant eyes roamed over me, sizing me up with the precision of someone who’d spent decades reading people. I knew exactly what he saw: a tired figure in a black t-shirt and an oversized, checkered brown leather jacket and baggy dark blue jeans—a look that screamed North District. Only someone from the heart of the city dressed this casually, and it didn’t take much to place me as an outsider here in the West.


    Finally, he spoke, his voice steady and probing. “Why are you looking for him?”


    My spirit lifted slightly at the question. He hadn’t immediately denied knowing Kavi. That was something.


    “I’m looking for some spells that can help me with my troubles,” I said, careful to keep my tone neutral. It wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t the full truth. I couldn’t afford to give away more than necessary until I knew who I was dealing with.


    The shopkeeper didn’t seem particularly impressed by my answer, but he reached for the phone anyway. His conversation unfolded in a language I couldn’t place—quick, clipped, and efficient. Whoever was on the other end responded in kind, and within moments, the call was done.


    “He’ll be here in some time,” the shopkeeper said, nodding toward me. Then, with a brief wave of his hand, he added, “You can buy something in the meanwhile.”


    I glanced back at the store’s interior. The shelves were stocked with a mismatched collection of goods that looked like they hadn’t moved since the last decade—or possibly the one before that. Most of the packaging had yellowed with age, and dust motes danced lazily in the beams of light cutting through the window.


    Still, I moved away from the counter, resigned to wait. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, adding a constant white noise to the shop’s oddly still atmosphere. I wandered the aisles, pretending to browse but keeping my thoughts elsewhere.


    Minutes dragged on. Five turned into fifteen, which stretched into thirty.


    During my wait, I’d found myself contemplating the store itself. Its survival seemed almost miraculous. The occasional child would dart in, exchange a few coins for candy, and disappear just as quickly. Beyond that, there was no sign of customers—or even any real attempt at attracting them. But it wasn’t my business to untangle the shop’s economics, so I let the mystery slide.


    Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the doorbell chimed again.


    The man who stepped in moved with a confidence that drew attention without effort. He appeared to be in his early twenties, but there was something about the way he carried himself—an easy assurance, a lack of hurry—that suggested he was no stranger to commanding respect.


    He went straight to the counter, where the shopkeeper didn’t bother with words. Instead, he pointed silently in my direction.


    The man’s gaze shifted to me, and he approached with the same unhurried pace. His movements were deliberate, like someone who operated on their own schedule and wasn’t inclined to rush for anyone.


    “You’re the one looking for me?” he asked, his voice casual, as though we were discussing the weather.


    I studied him as he spoke. His appearance matched his tone: a worn white hoodie hung loosely on his frame, paired with tight jeans that looked more lived-in than stylish. Patches of unshaved beard dotted his jawline, completing the image of someone who chose his unpolished look rather than someone forced into it by circumstance.


    “Yes,” I said, inclining my head. “You’re Kavi.”


    “That’s me.” A small smile tugged at his lips, but his eyes remained sharp and calculating. “Well and alive, standing right here.”


    He gestured toward the door. “Let’s step outside—no point in disturbing anyone.”


    I followed him out to a car that could’ve been mistaken for a relic from a bygone era. Its paint was faded, its body pockmarked with dents and scratches that hinted at a lifetime of close calls and minor accidents. Much like Arlo himself, the car wasn’t built for show—it was practical, reliable, and unapologetically rough around the edges.


    He placed one hand on the driver’s door, pausing before getting in. His casual demeanor shifted, his tone sharpening as he addressed me.


    “Let’s get something straight first,” he said, his voice carrying a new weight. “I run an honest business. Second, I don’t deal with gangs, and I can’t help you with revenge schemes. Anything else, we can discuss in detail.”


    There was no room for debate in his tone, and I got the distinct impression he meant every word.


    I nodded, acknowledging his terms without hesitation. “Understood.”


    That seemed to satisfy him. He opened the car door, gesturing for me to get in. I hesitated for a split second, bracing myself as I slid into the passenger seat.


    The stench hit me like a physical blow—a noxious cocktail of stale cigarettes, old coffee, and garbage that had been left to marinate far too long. I regretted not taking a deep breath of fresh air before entering. The filth felt almost alive, clinging to me the moment I sat down. I already knew my clothes would need a thorough cleaning after this.


    “So, who are you looking for?” Arlo asked, starting the conversation with practiced ease. “We provide services in many areas.”


    At this point, I had pieced together enough to understand the general nature of his operations. He wasn’t just a random contact; he was part of a network, a broker of sorts.


    “Fae,” I replied, my voice slow and deliberate.


    The name lingered in the air between us. Arlo didn’t respond right away. He froze for a long moment, his fingers resting lightly on the steering wheel as he considered my words.


    Finally, he murmured, “Hmm. You know she’s my secret.” His voice was low, almost reluctant. “You’ll have to pay a heavy price to request her help.”


    “I understand,” I said, calm and unwavering.


    He studied me, his dark eyes narrowing as though searching for cracks in my resolve. After a moment, he gave a small nod. “Looks like you’ve got your shit together. Alright, let’s go.”


    He twisted the key in the ignition. The car groaned in protest, its engine sputtering before reluctantly roaring to life. With a resigned growl, the vehicle lurched forward, and we pulled out onto the road. At first, it seemed like any other drive—uneventful, the city rolling by in all its gritty monotony, but then my perception shifted, and the world outside transformed.


    The ordinary street scene dissolved into streams of color -Pale blue cut through ribbons of gold and green, each shade swirling and blending into the next.


    Each color carried its own meaning. The light blue spoke of fleeting peace, a calm that couldn’t last. Gold shimmered with unspoken promises, whispering of opportunities waiting to be seized. And green—green pulsed with life, the energy of growth and transformation.


    I watched the colors swirl and blend, mesmerized.


    With my right arm resting on the open window, I watched the colors swirl and the buildings pass by.


    I didn’t ask where we were going. I didn’t need to.