Evan leaned back in the driver’s seat, staring at the numbers on his phone screen with a mix of disbelief and cautious satisfaction. His banking app displayed the largest sum he’d ever seen in a single account. The sale of the small gold bar Seralith had given him had finally gone through, but the process had been far more complicated than he’d anticipated. Apparently, unmarked gold raised a few eyebrows, and he’d spent the better part of a week navigating questions and paperwork to get it sold without drawing too much attention.
“Not something I can do often,” he muttered to himself, locking his phone and slipping it into his pocket. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. It was disappointing, really. Gold seemed like such a perfect solution—a little bit of magical wealth to ease the tension of his very non-magical responsibilities. But it was clear he’d need a more sustainable approach to this whole “dual-world” situation. Another problem for another day.
Shaking off the thought, he stepped out of his car and into the brisk morning air, the gym towering in front of him. He’d picked this place carefully—its mix of weights, cardio equipment, and MMA training facilities ticked all the boxes. Alara had been insistent, her voice in his head as sharp and commanding as ever. If you’re going to wield my power properly, you need to refine that body of yours, Evan. Strength, endurance, agility—they’re the foundation of everything I teach. You’ve got the potential, but you’re not there yet.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” he muttered under his breath as he pushed open the gym doors. The faint smell of rubber mats and disinfectant greeted him, along with the low hum of music and the rhythmic clanging of weights. He scanned the room, already feeling a mix of nerves and anticipation. This was a step toward something better—toward being ready for whatever Velanthor threw at him next.
“Evan, right?” a voice called out, cutting through his thoughts.
He turned to see a woman approaching him with a confident stride. Her athletic build was immediately noticeable—broad shoulders, toned arms, and a no-nonsense air about her. Her dark hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, and her warm, brown eyes studied him with the practiced ease of someone used to sizing people up. She extended a hand as she reached him.
“I’m Elena Torres. I’ll be your trainer.”
Evan shook her hand, noting the firm grip. “Yeah, that’s me. Nice to meet you.”
Well, isn’t she something? Alara’s voice chimed in, laced with amusement. Strong, confident, and look at that rack, they’re the perfect handful!
Not the time, Evan thought back, doing his best to keep his expression neutral. Alara’s commentary had a way of creeping in at the most inconvenient moments.
Elena gestured toward the main floor. “Let’s get started. First session, we’ll keep it low-key. I want to figure out where you’re at and what you’re looking for. Sound good?”
“Sounds good,” Evan said, following her toward the equipment. He could feel Alara’s presence lingering in the back of his mind, like an overly opinionated coach perched on his shoulder. He tried to ignore her as Elena led him to an open area with mats and a few pieces of equipment.
“So, what’s the goal?” Elena asked, crossing her arms as she studied him. “General fitness? Strength? Cardio? Or are you training for something specific?”
Evan hesitated, carefully choosing his words. “General fitness and strength, mostly. And I’ve been dabbling in MMA, so I’d like to improve there too.”
She raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity flashing in her eyes. “Amateur stuff?”
“Yeah,” Evan said, keeping his tone casual. “Just something I’ve been messing around with. Nothing serious.”
Elena nodded, her expression unreadable. “Alright. Let’s see what we’re working with. We’ll start with some basics—see where your strength and endurance are, then we’ll do some light sparring to gauge your skill level.”
As the session progressed, Evan found himself impressed by Elena’s no-nonsense approach. She pushed him just enough to test his limits, all while keeping a close eye on his form and technique. When they moved to sparring, he felt his nerves kick up a notch. This wasn’t a fight for survival like the ones in Velanthor—this was controlled, deliberate, and, most importantly, observed.
“You ready?” Elena asked, slipping into a relaxed fighting stance.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Evan replied, mirroring her stance.
The spar was supposed to be low-intensity, but Elena didn’t pull her punches. She was quick and precise, testing his reflexes and forcing him to rely on instinct. To his surprise, he held his own, his movements sharper and more fluid than he’d expected. Alara’s training had clearly left its mark.
Not bad, Alara chimed in as Evan ducked under a swing and countered with a clean jab. She’s good, but you’re better. Though I wouldn’t mind seeing where else this thing between you two might lead...
Focus, Evan shot back, his movements never faltering. He could feel his cheeks heat slightly, but he refused to let Alara’s commentary distract him.
Elena called the spar to a halt after a few minutes, stepping back and lowering her guard. “Not bad,” she said, a hint of approval in her tone. “You’ve got good instincts, and your technique’s solid for someone who calls himself an amateur. I’m guessing you’ve had some decent training.”
“Here and there,” Evan said, keeping his response vague.
She gave him a knowing look but didn’t press further. “Alright. We’ve got a good starting point. We’ll focus on building strength and endurance first, then sharpen those MMA skills. Sound good?”
“Sounds good,” Evan said, wiping sweat from his brow. He felt a sense of accomplishment despite the undercurrent of awkwardness brought on by Alara’s running commentary.
You know you’re attracted to her, Alara said, her tone teasing. And why wouldn’t you be? She’s strong, capable, and—let’s be honest—she’s got that whole ‘badass warrior’ vibe going on.
Evan sighed inwardly. I’m keeping it professional. She’s my trainer. Besides, I don’t want to mess up what’s starting with Lyrin.
Who says you have to choose, Evan? Alara said, her tone turning almost mischievous. There’s more than one way to build connections, and you’re not limited to just one partner. But we’ll talk about that later, when you’re not distracted by swinging fists and... other things.
Evan shook his head slightly, trying to push Alara’s words to the back of his mind. He couldn’t deny the attraction he felt toward Elena—she was magnetic in a way that was hard to ignore. But he wasn’t about to complicate things. Not yet, anyway.
As he wrapped up the session and thanked Elena, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his life was only going to get more complicated.
‐—---------
The roar of engines and the cheerful chaos of brightly colored karts filled the living room as Evan clutched his controller with grim determination. Jason, his ten-year-old son, sat on the couch beside him, his tongue poking out in concentration as his fingers danced over the buttons. Evan could already feel his pride taking a hit—Jason was absolutely annihilating him.
“Why... why are you so good at this?” Evan groaned, his kart spinning out after hitting one of Jason’s well-placed banana peels. “It’s like you’re reading my mind!”
Jason grinned without looking away from the screen. “Maybe I’m just better, Dad. You ever think of that?”
“Ruthless,” Evan muttered, swerving to avoid another trap only to get nailed by a red shell Jason had been holding in reserve. “Absolutely ruthless.”
Jason burst into laughter, but his victory was interrupted by a familiar sound—one Evan had come to associate with impending trouble. A faint hum, followed by the shimmering crackle of energy, drifted from down the hall. Evan froze, his controller slipping slightly in his hands. He knew that sound all too well.
“Uh, Jason,” he said, setting the controller down on the coffee table and forcing his voice to stay casual. “Looks like I’m outclassed here. Why don’t you keep going against the AI for a bit? I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Jason barely looked up, already engrossed in the next race. “Sure, Dad. Don’t take too long, or I’ll be the kart champion of the house forever.”
“Noted,” Evan said with a distracted chuckle, rising from the couch and heading down the hallway toward his bedroom.
The portal shimmered in the center of the room, casting a faint, otherworldly glow over the walls. Evan stepped inside, his expression somewhere between curiosity and resignation. Sure enough, Lyrin stood there, her silver hair catching the faint light of the portal like spun moonlight. She looked worried but not frantic, her violet eyes softening slightly when she saw him.
“Lyrin,” Evan said, crossing his arms. “I’m guessing this isn’t a social visit?”
“I’m sorry to intrude,” she said earnestly, her hands clasped in front of her. “But we need your help again. There’s a group of Vornath’s soldiers harrying a trade caravan. Your skills could make a difference.”
Evan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, Lyrin, I get it. I really do. But I can’t just drop everything right now. Jason’s here, and he’s my priority. He comes first. Always.”
Lyrin’s shoulders sagged slightly, disappointment flickering across her face. “I understand,” she said softly. “Seralith’s forces should be enough to handle it this time, though your help would have been valuable.”
Evan felt a pang of guilt but stood firm. “Good. I’m glad it’s not critical this time. But hey,” he added, a thought striking him, “why don’t you stay for a bit? You can meet Jason. Just, uh, try to act normal. No magic, no talk of gods or portals. Just... blend in.”
Lyrin blinked, clearly surprised by the invitation, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “I’d like that. I’ll try my best not to seem... strange.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“Great,” Evan said, gesturing for her to follow him back to the living room. “Come on. And let me do the talking.”
When they returned, Jason was mid-race, completely absorbed in the screen. Evan cleared his throat, and Jason glanced up briefly before doing a double take. “Whoa. Who’s this?”
“This is Lyrin,” Evan said, keeping his tone casual. “She’s... a friend. She was in the area and thought she’d stop by.”
Jason paused the game, his sharp eyes bouncing between Evan and Lyrin with the kind of precocious insight only a ten-year-old could manage. “Ohhh,” he said slowly, a grin spreading across his face. “Your girlfriend.”
Lyrin’s cheeks turned a brilliant shade of red, and she opened her mouth to protest, but Evan beat her to it. “She’s not—Jason, come on. Don’t make this weird.”
Jason just shrugged. “I don’t mind playing by myself if you want to hang out with your girlfriend.”
Evan groaned, but Lyrin, to his surprise, didn’t correct Jason. Instead, she stepped closer to Evan, boldly linking her arm with his and leaning into him with a small, playful smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Jason,” she said, her voice warm despite her obvious embarrassment.
Jason raised an eyebrow, clearly delighted by her reaction, but said nothing more as he unpaused the game and went back to racing. Evan shook his head, trying to ignore the heat creeping up his neck.
“Uh, right,” Evan said, disentangling himself gently and gesturing toward the kitchen. “Lyrin, why don’t you sit down? Or, I don’t know, relax? I’ll get you something.”
“Oh, no!” Lyrin said quickly, her polite demeanor kicking in. “Please, let me. I’d like to make something for you and Jason as thanks for letting me stay.”
Evan hesitated. “Okay, but... the kitchen here isn’t exactly like what you’re used to. Are you sure?”
“I’ll manage,” Lyrin said confidently, giving him a reassuring smile before disappearing into the kitchen.
It didn’t take long for her confidence to falter. Evan heard the clatter of pans, followed by the unmistakable sound of a cabinet door opening and closing repeatedly.
“Evan?” Lyrin called hesitantly. “What is... this box with the glowing numbers?”
Evan pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting back a laugh. “That’s the microwave, Lyrin. I’ll... I’ll come help.”
Jason, still playing his game, snickered softly. “She’s funny. You should keep her, Dad.”
Evan rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile as he headed toward the kitchen to rescue Lyrin from the complexities of modern appliances. Some part of him wondered if this strange, chaotic blending of worlds was becoming his new normal—and if he didn’t entirely hate it.
The house was quiet now, the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen the only sound breaking the stillness. Jason had gone to bed hours ago, his energy finally spent after a day of gaming and showing off his racing skills. Evan sat on the couch, his legs stretched out and his head resting against the back of the cushions. Lyrin sat cross-legged beside him, her silver hair catching the faint glow of the lamp on the side table. She had been glancing around the room with wide, curious eyes for the past few minutes, clearly brimming with questions.
Finally, she turned to him, her face lit with both wonder and confusion. “Evan, I have to ask... what are all these things in your home? Everything here seems so... advanced.”
Evan chuckled softly, sitting up a little. “What, the TV? The microwave? It’s just normal stuff. Nothing special.”
“Nothing special?” Lyrin repeated, her tone incredulous. She gestured to the television, which was currently displaying a paused show Jason had been watching earlier. “That box shows moving pictures—stories, I assume? And the other one in the kitchen, the... microwave? It heats food in moments. And I heard music earlier from the small device on the counter. To me, all of this seems like magic.”
“Well, it’s not magic,” Evan said, amused. “It’s just technology. Science. We’ve built these things to make life easier.”
Lyrin shook her head, still clearly overwhelmed. “Such marvels! You must be very wealthy to afford all of this.”
Evan laughed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “Wealthy? Lyrin, I’m very far from wealthy. Sure, I’m better off than many people, but this is all pretty normal. Most people around here have the same stuff.”
Her violet eyes widened in disbelief. “You mean... this is common? Everyone here lives with such luxuries?”
“Not everyone,” Evan admitted, his tone softening. “There are plenty of people who struggle, even here. But yeah, for the most part, this is just everyday life.”
Lyrin leaned back, her expression thoughtful. “Your world is so different from Velanthor. There, most people live simple lives. Only nobles or merchants have anything resembling this level of comfort.” She paused, her gaze drifting to the hallway where Jason’s room was. “And yet, you seem so grounded. Your son is happy. You’ve built a good life for him.”
Evan smiled faintly, a warmth spreading through him at her words. “I try. Jason’s my world. Everything I do, I do for him.”
Lyrin’s expression softened, and she tilted her head slightly. “What about his mother? I assume she... she’s no longer with you?”
Evan blinked, caught off guard by the question. For a moment, he debated how to answer, then shook his head. “No, she’s still around. We’re divorced. Things didn’t work out between us, but we both care about Jason. He spends part of the week with her and weekends with me.”
Lyrin’s eyes widened slightly, and she quickly placed a hand on his arm. “Oh, Evan, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up something painful.”
“It’s okay,” he said, offering her a small, reassuring smile. “We actually separated a long time ago. We’ve figured out how to make it work. And honestly, Jason’s worth every bit of it.”
Her hand lingered on his arm for a moment longer before she withdrew it, her cheeks flushing faintly. “You’re a good father,” she said softly. “Jason is lucky to have you.”
There was a pause, the kind of silence that felt heavy but not uncomfortable. Lyrin glanced at the clock on the wall and then at the portal stone she held in her lap. “I should return to Velanthor,” she said finally, though her tone was reluctant. “I’ve been away longer than I intended.”
Evan nodded, but as she moved to stand, he reached out, gently catching her wrist. She turned back to him, her eyes questioning, and before he could second-guess himself, he leaned in and kissed her.
It was soft, unhurried, and far more certain than the kiss she’d given him in the tavern. Her lips were warm against his, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of them. When they parted, Lyrin’s cheeks were pink, but her eyes held a quiet, radiant joy.
“I—” she started, but Evan cut her off with a smile.
“You’ll be back, right?” he asked, his voice light but sincere. “How about in three days? Jason will be at his mom’s, and I can show you more of Earth. You know, give you the grand tour.”
Her smile grew, shy but genuine. “Three days,” she agreed, her voice almost a whisper. “I’d like that.”
With a final glance, she activated the portal stone, the shimmering light wrapping around her as she stepped through. Evan stood there for a moment after she was gone, the faint scent of her still lingering in the air, and let out a slow breath.
—-------
Evan’s breath came in steady, controlled bursts as he tightened his grip on the sword in his hand. The Ego Space stretched around him in an endless expanse of muted light and shifting shadows, like a dreamscape caught between reality and imagination. Across from him, Alara stood poised and confident, her blade gleaming faintly as if it were an extension of her very being. She smirked, her fiery demeanor as sharp as her sword.
“Focus, Evan,” she said, her voice carrying both instruction and challenge. “You’ve got my skills and knowledge in that head of yours, but skills mean nothing if you don’t build instincts. There won't always be time fir me to whisper in your ear.”
Evan rolled his shoulders, trying to relax. He knew she was right—relying on her guidance wasn’t a long-term solution. If he wanted to survive in Velanthor, to truly protect the people who mattered to him, he needed to internalize everything she was teaching him.
“Alright,” he said, stepping into a ready stance. “Let’s go again.”
Alara didn’t waste time. She surged forward, her blade slicing through the air with precision. Evan parried, the clash of steel ringing out in the strangely muted space. She followed up with a rapid series of strikes, each one testing his reflexes and forcing him to adapt. He managed to hold his ground, but just barely.
“Better,” she said, sidestepping his counterattack with ease. “But you’re still reacting to me. You need to think ahead—predict what I’ll do next.”
Evan gritted his teeth, trying to focus. As Alara pressed her advantage, he realized she wasn’t just testing his ability to block and counter—she was forcing him to think tactically. Every move she made was a lesson, every strike a subtle reminder that surviving wasn’t enough. He needed to outmaneuver, outthink, and outfight his opponent.
A sudden feint from Alara caught him off guard, and before he could recover, she swept his legs out from under him. He hit the ground with a grunt, her blade hovering inches from his throat.
“Dead,” she said, smirking down at him. “Again.”
Evan groaned, sitting up and rubbing his shoulder. “You really enjoy this, don’t you?”
“Immensely,” she admitted, offering him a hand. He took it, and she pulled him to his feet with surprising ease. “But it’s not all fun and games. You’re improving, Evan. Slowly, but you are. Let’s talk about why.”
She gestured around them, the landscape shimmering faintly as if it were made of smoke and light. “This is the Ego Space. It’s not real, but it’s close enough. Here, we can fight for real—no holding back—because we can’t die. The pain is... muted, enough to remind you of mistakes but not enough to cripple you. It’s the perfect place to train without consequences.”
Evan glanced around, his brow furrowing. “So I can get stabbed or slashed here, and it doesn’t matter?”
“Exactly,” she said, twirling her sword idly. “It’s why you’ve survived this long in training. If this were the real world, you’d have bled out ten times over. But here, you get to make mistakes and learn from them. That’s the beauty of it.”
He nodded slowly, taking in her words. It made sense, though the idea of fighting without real stakes felt... odd. Still, he couldn’t deny how much he’d improved since they started.
“Alright,” he said, adjusting his stance. “What’s next?”
“Next,” Alara said, stepping closer, “we combine your swordwork with grappling. A good fighter knows when to switch tactics. If you’re up against someone stronger or faster, you need to be unpredictable. Grappling, wrestling—it’s messy, but it works. And I know you’ve got some experience there.”
Evan smirked faintly. “You mean the few moves I picked up from MMA classes?”
“Better than nothing,” she said, motioning for him to follow her lead. “Now, pay attention.”
For the next hour, Alara drilled him relentlessly, showing him how to transition from sword strikes to grapples, how to use leverage against larger opponents, and how to turn a fight in his favor when brute strength wasn’t enough. Evan found himself sweating despite the lack of real exertion in the Ego Space, his muscles aching as he practiced over and over.
As they paused for a brief break, Alara leaned against her sword, her expression turning more contemplative. “By the way,” she said, her tone casual but pointed, “about what we discussed earlier... you really don’t have to limit yourself, you know.”
Evan frowned, catching her meaning immediately. “You’re talking about Lyrin and Elena.”
“Exactly,” she said, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “You’re hung up on this idea of choosing one or the other, but that’s not how it has to be. In my lifetime, I had many lovers—men, women, elves, humans, even a dwarf or two. Eventually, I settled into a stable harem. It wasn’t common on Velanthor back then, but it wasn’t unheard of either. And now, from what I gather, it’s even more accepted.”
Evan raised an eyebrow. “A harem, huh? That’s... a lot to manage.”
Alara laughed, the sound rich and unapologetic. “It is, but it’s also rewarding. I had love, companionship, and loyalty from people I trusted with my life. I died in bed, very happy, surrounded by those I cared about. No regrets.”
Evan hesitated, her words stirring something in him. “When my ex-wife proposed an open marriage, I looked into it. I was curious. But... well, it turned out she wasn’t suggesting it for the reasons I thought. She was already seeing someone else. So, yeah... that pretty much killed the idea for me.”
Alara studied him for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. “I get it. Betrayal leaves scars. But not every situation is like that. If you’re open to it—truly open—it can work. I’m not saying you need to decide right now. Just... keep an open mind.”
Evan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll think about it. But for now, I’m focusing on Lyrin. I don’t want to mess that up.”
“Fair enough,” Alara said, stepping back into a ready stance. “Now, let’s see if you’ve actually learned anything today. And remember—think ahead this time, Evan. Don’t just react.”
He nodded, gripping his sword and preparing for her attack. As they clashed again, Evan couldn’t help but feel a small shift inside him—an openness not just to Alara’s training, but to the possibilities she’d hinted at. For now, though, he had a fight to win. One step at a time.
