Portal air doesn’t smell like anything.
That’s the first thing Jasper notices.
No exhaust.
No food stalls.
No rain on concrete.
Just… stillness.
Like the world forgot to breathe.
Then his feet hit solid ground.
*World 2: Asteria*
The portal snapped shut behind him with a sound like a wet towel snapping.
Leon was already walking, hands in his pockets, like he’d just stepped out for milk.
Jasper looked up.
And froze.
The sky was wrong.
Not blue.
Not night.
A faint, stretched scar of crimson ran across the horizon, like the air itself was still healing from being torn open.
Below it, the city sprawled out in layers of half-rebuilt districts and patched-up fortifications.
Some buildings were sleek and new.
Others were scorched stone held together by scaffolding and wards that glowed faintly at the seams.
This wasn’t a clean, safe world like the stories made it sound.
This looked like a place that had just barely survived.
Jasper’s brain stalled for three seconds.
A woman with wolf ears and a furred tail jogged past, carrying a crate of supplies on one shoulder and talking loudly on a comms device.
A man with cat eyes and retractable claws was arguing with a human merchant over prices, both of them gesturing wildly but neither drawing a weapon.
Kids with antlers and scaled forearms played tag between stalls, weaving through humans without anyone flinching.
No one looked twice at the differences.
Like this was normal.
Jasper turned to Leon, voice coming out dry.
“…You said we were going to ‘look around’.”
Leon didn’t even glance back.
“We are.”
“Leon.” Jasper stopped walking.
“Those people. They’re not—”
“Human?” Leon finally stopped, turned, and gave him that tired look again.
The one that said _I’ve been explaining this for 200 years_.
“No. They’re not. Not all of them.”
He gestured at the city.
“Welcome to Asteria. World 2. First contact world. Humans, beastkin, demi-humans. We all live here now. Messy, but it works.”
Jasper’s head felt like it was spinning.
“World 2?”
“Yeah. Earth is World 1. This is World 2.” Leon started walking again.
“Your parents fought their last battle right over there.” He pointed toward the scarred horizon.
“That’s why I brought you here first.”
Jasper stopped dead.
“What?”
Leon didn’t slow down.
“If I dropped you into Lumeris or Umbrael you’d die before you learned to breathe the air. Asteria’s dangerous, but it’s structured. Laws. Mercenary guilds. War’s over, but the scars are still here. You’ll learn faster if you can see what they were fighting for.”
Jasper followed, because what else was he supposed to do?
Run back through a portal that wasn’t there anymore?
His eyes kept catching on things.
A stall selling weapons that hummed on their own.
A beastkin kid no older than ten bending fire out of thin air to light a brazier.
A memorial wall covered in names, some human, some with symbols he didn’t recognize.
“Why can’t I feel… weird?” Jasper muttered.
Leon smirked.
“You’re under my suppression field. Otherwise the ambient energy here would give you a nosebleed and knock you out. Be grateful.”
Jasper opened his mouth, then closed it.
Right.
Grateful.
A squad of mixed guards passed them—two humans, a fox-beastkin, and a dwarf.
One of them paused, looked at Jasper, then at Leon, and nodded once.
“Lord Stardust,” the fox-beastkin said, voice respectful.
“Didn’t expect to see you back so soon.”
Leon gave a lazy wave.
“Hope you’re keeping the city in one piece.”
“Doing our best, sir.”
They moved on.
Jasper blinked.
“Lord Stardust?”
Leon sighed.
“Yeah. That’s annoying too.”
They walked in silence for a bit.
Jasper tried to process.
It was like finding out gravity was optional and everyone else had known for years.
“So my parents…” Jasper said quietly.
“They died here?”
Leon shook his head.
“No. They got out. Barely. But this is where they chose to stand. Where they chose to protect you.”
Jasper looked at the scar in the sky again.
At the rebuilt walls.
At the beastkin and humans working side by side without a second thought.
“So none of this is normal?”
Leon’s expression shifted.
Just slightly.
“No, Jasper. None of it is.”
A pause.
“But it’s real. And now it’s your problem too.”
Jasper looked around again.
At the wolf-eared woman laughing with a human kid.
At the cat-beastkin merchant rolling his eyes at a human customer.
At the kid with antlers who waved at him, probably by accident.
Not normal.
But not scary.
Just… different.
And for the first time since lunch, Jasper didn’t feel like the odd one out.
He felt like he belonged somewhere he didn’t know existed.
Jasper exhaled, steadying himself.
His hands were still empty, but for the first time since the park, they didn’t feel useless.
“Stop showing me around,” he said.
Leon raised an eyebrow.
“Huh?”
“Train me,” Jasper said.
“In the mystic arts. Everything. Now.”
Leon blinked.
Then he grinned like someone who just got told free food was involved.
“Sure thing, kid.”
Jasper blinked.
“Wait, really? I thought you’d—”
He didn’t finish.
_Tap.
Tap.
Tap._
Three fingers hit Jasper’s chest, ribs, and shoulder faster than his brain could register.
Jasper staggered back, clutching himself.
“What the hell was that, Master Leon?!”
“Cleansing,” Leon said cheerfully, brushing off his hands.
“You’re clogged. Like a drain after Taco Tuesday.”
“…That’s not an explanation.”
“It is now. Your channels are gunked up from seventeen years of ramen, 3-hour sleep, and running on spite. If I try to teach you to circulate energy like this, you’ll pop a blood vessel and die. Dramatic, but inconvenient.”
Jasper’s stomach gave a low, ominous gurgle.
Leon’s eyes lit up.
“Ah. There it is.”
Jasper went pale.
“What did you do to me, Master Leon?”
“Cleansed you. Now go to the bathroom. Fast.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not. And do me a favor—don’t do it in the alley. We have standards.”
Leon pushed open the door to a small stone room with a reinforced toilet and a drain in the floor.
Smelled faintly of herbs and bleach.
“Alright, in you go. Don’t die.”
Jasper stared at him.
“You’re coming with me, Master Leon?”
Leon recoiled like Jasper suggested he hug a cactus.
“Hell no. I’m not going in there. You think I want to smell seventeen years of Jasper Stew?”
Jasper frowned.
“Jasper Stew?”
“Yeah. That’s what’s about to come out of you. I’ll be right outside meditating. Scream if you die. I’ll bill the orphanage for the cleanup.”
He shut the door with a _thud_ and plopped down in the hallway, legs crossed, eyes closed.
Inside, Jasper sat on the toilet, gripping the edges, sweating.
“Master Leon! You’re really not coming in?”
From outside: “Absolutely not. I value my nose.”
Jasper groaned.
Then his skin prickled.
Tiny beads of sticky yellow gunk started oozing from his pores.
Glowing faintly.
Smelling like old fryer oil and regret.
“OH GOD WHAT IS THAT!”
From outside, Leon’s voice was calm: “That’s your past mistakes, kid. Flush it.”
“THIS ISN’T NORMAL!”
“Neither is punching mountains in half. Get used to it.”
As the gunk kept leaking out, Jasper felt it—lighter.
Like someone unzipped his ribcage and let air in.
His head cleared.
His breathing eased.
He slumped against the wall, exhausted and sticky.
“…Master Leon. You’re a monster.”
From outside: “And you’re a clean monster now. Congrats. Try not to track that on the floor when you come out.”
Jasper looked down at his hands.
Cleaner.
Healthier.
Lighter.
Leon’s voice drifted in again, smug as hell:
“Welcome to cultivation, kid. Next lesson: breathing techniques. In ten minutes. Try not to faint on the toilet.”