Next chapter is the finally "Inn Between" chapter. This little arc are only meant to be 2-3 chapters and has already expanded into 6-7. Woops XD. ♛———♛—————————♛———♛
Jeremiah’s eyes widened.
He shot to his feet before he could think better of it, chair legs scraping hard against the tavern floor.
“Sit.”
The single word struck the air — and his mind — like a hammer.
It echoed through the tavern, then through Jeremiah’s skull. It wasn’t loud, exactly, but it was absolute. His stomach lurched as his body dropped back into the chair of its own accord.
Jeremiah’s heart slammed against his ribs.
For one wild second, he tried to stand again, to find his legs didn’t respond. Neither did his arms when he tried to brace himself against the table. His body stayed exactly where it was, locked into place like a puppet with its strings drawn taut.
Panic tore through him.
His eyes darted around the tavern, searching for Ulrick, for an exit, for anyone who had noticed.
The patrons kept drinking, talking, eating, and laughing as if nothing were wrong. The man at the bar lifted his mug. Someone near the hearth turned a page in a book. Glasses stacked themselves behind the counter with soft, orderly clinks.
No one looked their way.
No one seemed to notice the sudden tension at the table.
It wasn’t just that they hadn’t reacted.
It was as if Jeremiah and Ray had ceased to matter.
Jeremiah tried to move again.
The air around the table felt wrong. Thick. Heavy. His skin prickled beneath it, and his arms felt as if they’d been packed with wet sand. Even breathing took effort.
A blur of motion snapped through the corner of his eye as Billy gave a furious screel and launched himself at Ray from over Jeremiah’s shoulder.
“Billy!” Jeremiah called, instinctively trying to reach for the orb before remembering he couldn’t move.
He could do nothing but watch as Billy shot across the table, bubble armor flashing in the tavern light.
Ray didn’t even look at him.
Billy’s body simply went limp.
His bubble drifted past Ray’s shoulder, carrying the young kraken along inside it. A moment later, it bumped gently against the wall, rebounded, and floated toward a quiet corner of the room.
Jeremiah’s chest seized.
Then drowsy, sleepy dreams of multicolored shrimp brushed softly against his mind through the bond.
Billy was alive.
Asleep, but alive.
Jeremiah let out a shaking breath, forced his attention back to Ray, and activated [Nerve Net] and [Distributed Instinct].
The world snapped into sharper focus.
Sound slowed. Light steadied. Jeremiah’s racing thoughts split into clean, separate lines, each one searching for escape.
And suddenly, he understood.
It wasn’t the air that was heavy.
It was the mana.
It pressed against him from every side, dense and layered, wrapping the table, the chair, and every trapped limb. It clung like a wet blanket, smothering each attempt to move before the effort could become motion.
Even in that accelerated state, Jeremiah saw Ray’s eyes narrow.
“Who are you, really?” the innkeeper asked.
This time, as Ray spoke, Jeremiah saw it.
Not with his eyes, exactly, but with his affinity.
His mana sense caught something woven through the words. A thousand thin strands of… something threaded outward from Ray’s voice. They moved faster than thought, bright and terrible in their precision as they crossed the table, slipped through the pressure around him, and curled toward him.
They touched his mind, and his mouth began to open.
No!
The command came from somewhere deeper than panic. Jeremiah reached inward, past the terror, past the body that refused to obey him, toward that strange inner space he’d been given but still barely understood.
Then he did what he should have done the moment the System warned him.
He equipped his uniform.
The Shopkeeper’s Regalia materialized around him in a rush of shifting fabric and quiet authority, replacing his casual clothes in an instant. The familiar weight settled over his shoulders, clean and precise, like stepping back into the one place in the universe that recognized him.
A System window opened in his sight.
——————❇——————
System Message — Domain Authority Clash
As a fully authorized System User, you have temporarily commandeered Shard Space, “ The Inn Between.”
Presence of the Proprietor Activated
Presence of the Proprietor: All visitors feel a heightened sense of security and hospitality when you are present. Your ability to negotiate, persuade, or defuse conflict with customers is greatly enhanced. Remain clear-minded under pressure; your body gives away nothing, and you reveal no tells. You are immune to all forms of mental or emotional manipulation under A-rank, and you can sense when a similar B-rank effect targets you.
——————❇——————
The strands around his mind snapped.
Jeremiah sucked in a breath through clenched teeth.
Across the table, Ray staggered back a step.
For the first time since Jeremiah had met him, the innkeeper looked genuinely surprised.
Then his expression hardened.
His bright green eyes narrowed further, and this time the light behind them became real, green fire kindling in his gaze.
Ray lifted a hand into the air.
And the world vanished beneath a storm of lines.
Countless strands erupted from him, spreading in every direction before collapsing around Jeremiah. They filled his awareness so completely that, for one terrible heartbeat, he felt blind despite his eyes remaining open.
Then the world snapped back into focus.
And he was trapped again.
Jeremiah felt his uniform hold for a fraction of a second. He felt it resist, felt the Regalia’s authority push back against whatever Ray was doing.
Then the pressure pinned him from every direction at once, and he found he couldn’t so much as blink without permission. Even his breath entered and left his lungs with a mechanical steadiness that made his skin crawl.
Ray dragged a hand through his hair, eyes still blazing.
“Let’s try that again, mate,” he said, voice low and stripped of its earlier warmth. “Who are you really? How did you get your Shard? Who sent you?”
This time, the words thrummed through Jeremiah’s entire body.
The strands vibrated with them.
His mouth opened, and Jeremiah fought, throwing every ounce of focus he could gather into the Regalia, into his skills, into the narrow space inside himself that still belonged to him, even as his teeth clenched and his throat strained. Sweat slid down his temple.
Even then, it wasn’t enough.
The words forced themselves out, dragged through gritted teeth one at a time.
“I’m…” His voice shook. “Jeremiah… Bridge…”
Ray’s gaze sharpened.
Jeremiah’s hands trembled against the armrests, but his body kept speaking.
“Sarah…” His breath hitched. “Gave… it… to me.”
Ray went still.
Something flickered across his face too quickly for Jeremiah to name.
“And what is y—”
A deep bark cut him off, the sound rolling through the tavern and drowning out Ray’s next words.
Ray’s gaze snapped past Jeremiah’s shoulder, toward the door where the old wolfhound, Hector, lay.
For several seconds, Ray said nothing.
Then his eyes flicked back to Jeremiah.
Ray exhaled and closed his eyes.
All at once, the pressure vanished.
Jeremiah collapsed forward, catching himself against the table as a ragged breath tore out of him. Sweat slicked his skin. His whole body shook with the sudden, jarring return of control.
Ray dragged a hand down his face.
When he opened his eyes again, they were only green.
Jeremiah didn’t waste the chance.
He scrambled to his feet, the chair scraping hard against the floor. Then he backed away from the table in several quick, unsteady steps and yanked the Twin Boundaries pen from his pocket.
He held it out between them as if it were a sword, or maybe a wand.
The pen had no offensive capabilities he knew of, but Ray didn’t know that.
Or at least Jeremiah hoped he didn’t.
Ray raised both hands slowly and took a careful step forward.
“Easy, lad.”
Jeremiah’s grip tightened around the pen. “Don’t.”
Ray stopped.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
The tavern carried on around them as if nothing had happened. Laughter rose near the hearth. Someone coughed into their mug. Hector’s tail thumped against the floor.
Jeremiah’s eyes flicked toward the door Ulrick had vanished through.
Still closed.
What was taking him so long?
Ray followed the glance, then sighed. “I’m sorry I had to get rough with you.”
“Rough?” Jeremiah snapped.
The word came out sharper than he intended, but he didn’t care.
“What the hell was that? What did you do to me?”
Ray’s mouth tightened. He kept his hands raised, palms open, and stepped around the table with deliberate care.
“Truth-scrying,” he said. “That’s all.”
Jeremiah stared at him.
Ray grimaced. “Normally, it isn’t that invasive. You’ve got some impressive defenses, mate.”
Invasive?
Jeremiah almost laughed. The sound caught in his throat and curdled there.
Even now, he could still feel the memory of those strands against his mind, thin and wriggling, probing for places to pull. His stomach turned.
Ray must have seen it, because his expression softened by a fraction.
“You need to understand,” Ray said. “You’re not the first person to come here claiming some connection to Sarah.”
His gaze flicked briefly toward the closed back door.
“What’s more, showing up with Ulrick, of all people…” His mouth tightened. “That was worrying.”
Jeremiah’s eyes narrowed. “What does Sarah have to do with this?”
Ray blinked.
Then his head tilted slightly, as if the question had caught him off guard.
“Did she really tell you nothing?” he asked.
Jeremiah only glared at him.
Ray studied his face for another second, then lowered his hands with a sigh.
“Right. Then tell me something, kid. How much do you know about Shards and Shard Users?”
Jeremiah didn’t lower the pen.
“I know they exist.”
The innkeeper gave a short, humorless laugh. “That’s it?”
Jeremiah said nothing.
Ray glanced toward Hector, then back to Jeremiah.
“Fine,” he said. “Consider this a crash course.”
He began to pace, though this time he kept a careful distance between them.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, no one really knows where the Shards came from. Or who made them.”
Jeremiah went still.
He didn’t know?
Ray had mentioned Sarah. Jeremiah had assumed that meant he knew the truth, or at least some version of it.
But if Ray meant what he said, then Sarah’s role in the System’s creation wasn’t common knowledge among Shard Users.
Ray continued, unaware of the direction Jeremiah’s thoughts had taken.
“They began appearing a little over ten years ago, scattered across the galaxy. Seemingly at random. No one knows the rhyme or reason for who they choose, not truly.” His gaze sharpened. “But we do know part of their purpose.”
He turned back toward Jeremiah.
“The Shards are power,” Ray said. “A new kind of power. One meant to push back against Stagnation, that creeping End of all things pressing in from the edge of the Reliquum.”
Jeremiah’s jaw tightened.
So far, nothing new.
Ray watched him closely. “What most Shard Users don’t understand at first is that Shards are exactly what the name suggests. Pieces of something greater. Their purpose, as far as we can tell, is to collect and store potential, information, and experience, all of it, through their users.”
Jeremiah’s grip tightened again.
Ray’s face lost what little softness remained. “Now, with that in mind, the galaxy’s a dangerous place, mate. So ask yourself a question.”
He leaned forward slightly.
“What happens to a Shard when its user dies?”
A cold pit opened in Jeremiah’s stomach. His eyes widened.
Ray didn’t let the question fester for long.
“I’ll tell you. Rather than let that potential and information go to waste, the Architects designed the Shards to latch onto the nearest sapient being.”
The blood drained from Jeremiah’s face as the implication hit all at once, and his hand started to tremble.
Ray nodded grimly. “Yeah. It’s as bad as you’re probably thinking. I told you. The Shards are power.” His mouth tightened. “And over a long life, I’ve learned there are plenty of people willing to do awful things for power.”
Jeremiah swallowed hard, fighting the sudden urge to be sick.
Ray returned to the table and lowered himself into his chair.
He gestured toward the seat across from him.
Jeremiah didn’t move at first.
His eyes cut toward the back door again.
Still nothing.
After another second, Jeremiah stepped forward and sat down. He kept the pen in his hand, pointed loosely in Ray’s direction.
Ray glanced at it, then back at him.
“That doesn’t mean every Shard User is a killer, of course,” Ray said. “Most aren’t. Plenty are decent people. Strange, sure. Often trouble. But decent.”
His expression sharpened.
“Still, there are enough predators out there that customs developed to keep Shard Users from killing each other on sight.”
His gaze held Jeremiah’s.
“Such as announcing yourself when you meet another User.”
Jeremiah’s cheeks warmed despite himself, though he didn’t look away.
Ray’s smirk twitched. “Normally, I’d assume you were new and didn’t know better. Given the circumstances, though…” He spread one hand. “As I said, I couldn’t take the risk.”
Jeremiah stared at him for a long moment.
Then he set his jaw.
“Assume I believe you,” he said. “You still haven’t told me what Sarah has to do with any of this.”
Ray nodded slowly.
“I’m getting there.”
He leaned back, one hand resting beside his mug.
“Once Shard Users started realizing a Shard could be… stolen, some began hunting for them. Quite literally.” His expression darkened. “As you can imagine, people like that became dangerous.”
Jeremiah’s brow tightened.
“And rather difficult to deal with,” Ray continued. “So a group of Shard Users came together and formed what people now call the Hunters.”
He looked Jeremiah in the eye.
“Shard Users who hunt those who hunt others.”
Ray leaned back in his chair. “Sarah Bridge,” he said, “was their founder and leader.”
Jeremiah’s eyes widened.
The pen lowered an inch before he realized it.
“What?”
Ray’s expression softened.
Jeremiah blinked, trying to make the words fit into any version of his sister he understood. Had Sarah pretended to be a Shard User to… what? Hunt down people abusing the System?
Why?
Why design the Shards in a way that made that necessary in the first place?
A cold, uneasy weight settled in his stomach. There was more going on here than he knew. A lot more. He just didn’t have all the pieces yet.
Ray’s voice drew him back.
“Others have taken up the duty since her…” He paused.
His expression tightened. “Since her death. But it isn’t the same.”
Jeremiah flinched.
Ray looked down at the table. “So when someone turns up claiming to know her, claiming to be her brother, all while dragging Ulrick into the middle of things…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, kid. Truly.”
Jeremiah studied Ray’s face, searching for deceit. For a lie. For some sign that the man was leading him along, saying only what he thought Jeremiah wanted to hear.
In the end, he found nothing.
The only thing he could see on Ray’s face was a heavy weariness.
That didn’t mean Ray was telling him everything. Jeremiah was certain he wasn’t.
But much as Jeremiah hated to admit it, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have done the same thing in Ray’s shoes.
Though he would’ve liked to think he’d have used less mind control.
Probably.
“So you’re telling me Sarah was part of some kind of… Shard User police force?” Jeremiah asked.
Ray snorted, and some of his earlier warmth returned.
“She never would’ve put it that way.” A faint smile tugged at his mouth. “It was more like her own little club, based right here in this inn.”
He gestured around them, his expression turning faintly nostalgic. “They did a lot of good. Not just for Shard Users, either. Some of the nastier Users out there are monsters in their own right.”
Jeremiah leaned back, still trying to absorb that.
Then another thought struck him.
“Where do you fit into all this?” he asked. “Were you part of this club, too?”
Ray stared at him.
Then he threw his head back and laughed.
The sound rolled through the tavern, warm and loud enough that, for a moment, it almost felt like the Ray from before had returned.
Ray wiped at one eye as he settled. “Oh, good lord, no, mate. I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
Jeremiah frowned.
Ray grinned.
“I’m not even a Shard User.”
Jeremiah went still.
“You’re not?”
That made no sense. He was certain the System had said there was one here.
“If you’re not the Shard User,” Jeremiah asked slowly, “then who is?”
Ray’s grin widened.
He pointed over Jeremiah’s shoulder.
“Why, him, of course.”
Jeremiah turned toward the front door, expecting another patron, maybe even someone who had been watching from the shadows.
Instead, he found no one there.
No one but Hector.
The old wolfhound sat on his haunches beside the door, ears perked, solemn eyes fixed on Jeremiah. His long tail thumped against the floorboards in slow, heavy beats.
His confusion lasted only a moment before Ray’s meaning began to take shape.
“Wait,” Jeremiah said slowly. “Are you—”
Hector barked.
A System window appeared in Jeremiah’s sight.
——————❇——————
Hector Von Doomslayer sends his greetings.
——————❇——————