Departure

"I can get you to the Otherworld."

David fixed the man for a dozen seconds, both of them observing each other, motionless. He did not know how to reply to that ridiculous affirmation, and thus didn't.

Previously, he wanted to escape. The man dressed suspiciously, acted suspiciously, and spoke suspiciously.

Now, however, the man compelled his attention. If it was a way to lure him into a trap, then David had to congratulate the man for researching him so well.

'Maybe he's speaking truth…' Was what he would have wanted to think.

But it was absurd.

People that sponsored Earthlings into the Otherworld didn't come like cabbage, and didn't come to talentless cabbage like David if they were around either way.

A drop of water dropped on his nose and slid down his face. 'The weather is getting worse; I need to move.'

"Sir, I'm recommending you don't follow me anymore."

"I also hate the Returnees."

This man was keen on making him practice theatrics, wasn't he?

"How did you know that?" David asked with a pale face. His lips shook. This type of information was limited to his mind only, and he had never told nor indicated in any way that he disliked…loathed the Returnees.

He would only come off as jealous, though jealousy was a sizeable reason for his hate of Returnees.

"Animals who couldn't stand the responsibility that came with their power and escaped, aren't they?" The man added fuel to the flame.

Thanks god it was raining.

David sucked in a breath. Those were his exact thoughts, identical in word choice and idea.

"Yes, those are your exact thoughts. Do you believe me now?"

David's pretense of calm soon broke down. His thoughts were his only private property, the only area of his life where he could still claim to have agency. And now, this person could perhaps read the fabric of his being?!

A lot of thoughts streamed through his head, but those were not safe anymore. Instead, he thought of a cartoon he used to love as a child, and the colorful characters that lived within it.

The man snickered, and commented, "Smart but futile."

His gloven hands reached for his ears, and he removed his sunglasses. Underneath, golden irises shone even in the rain night. Next, the man removed his black mask.

The face underneath the mask was hard to decipher. Deep scars ran through the man's entire face, making it impossible to distinguish emotions.

In short, he did not have the face of a normal person, but that of a war veteran, and one that refused prosthetics, at that.

"You brought down your sword of judgment on the Returnees. Yet, if I sponsor you to the Otherworld, will you be any different?"

'Yes! I will!' David knew himself. He had nothing to tie him down to this world but a boring job. No family to care for, no wife to love, no child to nurse. Why would he stay here? He would rather die a hero. He would rather live a short life full of meaning, rather than his long, meaningless life.

"Pain reveals the difference between gold and pebbles, animals and humans. In the face of pain, animals will flee and escape. In the face of pain, a human will stand up, bear it and fight. Are you a human, or are you an animal?" While the man's mouth was too scarred to display rage or passion, his voice and shaking golden irises burned into David's brain.

"I'm a human."

"Then will you bear the pain of the Otherworld? Whether that be for power, justice, evil, or salvation?"

"I will."

"Good."

Suddenly, the golden irises of the man pierced his senses. His anchor to reality broke down, and his surroundings blurred away.

When he woke up, he was in a sea of flames. David couldn't move. An itch also grew on his left leg. David's eyes glanced down, and he saw a large, bloody wound on his leg that extended from his heel to his knees.

It bled endlessly, and the itch grew into a painful burning sensation.

David groaned. The pain never lessened, and instead continued to increase: what was previously a burning sensation became an agony unlike any other, a headache and flood of pain that overpowered his every sense.

"ARGHH!" David screamed, but his screams only served to fan the sea of flames.

Speaking of those, the flames steadily approached him. Soon, his right leg met its first flame. He could feel his skin folding and drying from the flames, every sensation of searing heat destroying his cells, his muscles, and turning his bones into char.

Pain. Pain.

The flames traveled upwards, and soon; David bore the agony of being burned alive. While it was agonizing, his desire to go to the Otherworld was stronger.

'If I fail here, I'm not getting any other chance.'

His consciousness blurred away, and when he woke up again, he was in a quiet tent.

While the tent was quiet, his heart was anything but.

In his arms, a young lady rested. When he moved her, her body only rag dolled, as if there was no life within. Where was the pain?

David soon regretted asking.

This time, the pain was not physical, but emotional.

He did not know the lady, but somehow, her cold back on his arms made him breathe heavily. A wave of sudden melancholy washed over him. His vision turned gray, and his eyes red.

Something unjust happened.

And now the lady was dead.

Even as he resisted it, he began producing growling sounds. His heart felt heavy, and everything else meaningless.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry…"

"Come back to life now, will you, Assia?"

"I'm waiting for you."

No response.

"No?"

This time it was not the rain that made his face wet. These were not David's own emotions, but he could feel them, live them.

And thus, he sobbed. Uncontrollably.

When he wished his body would calm down and listen to him, he finally lost consciousness.

This time, he woke up on the cold and wet concrete pavement of St. John's Boulevard.

The man was still in front of him, his golden eyes examining his state.

"You passed."

"You are a human."

His scarred lips did not show it, but the man tried to smile at David.

"Were those your-

"I took the liberty to read your memories. I let you read mine."

'He doesn't want to speak about it, I'll refrain from doing so.'

"Please do."

Perhaps because he had lived through his memories, David felt a tinge of empathy and connection with the man, despite them having met an hour ago.

"Do you believe me now?"

"Yes."

"I can get you the contract right now, then?"

Text data appeared inside of his head, causing a headache. David caressed his forehead and analyzed the incoming data.

If there was any benefit to working in a government office for five years, it was that he knew how to decipher contracts and their language. If there was someone who would not fall to a scammy contract, that was him.

"Party B, as defined by the Preamble, agrees and signs to this agreement perduring for a period of five years."

The contract would last five years.

During these five years, he had few responsibilities. He had to participate at least once a year in raids against monsters. He had to refrain from killing any natives of the Otherworld, unless in self-defense. He had to protect any human settlement he was in from monster attacks.

As for privileges and rights, the list was very long and fit what he knew of those from Returnees.

Sponsorship, as some called it, was very advantageous for Earthlings. This was because Otherworlders were desperate, and these advantages were the only way to convince Earthlings to join their efforts.

"Do you want to sign the contract now?" The man asked David.

'I don't have much of a choice. Since the Returnees came back today, this year's batch of Earthlings will depart tomorrow.'

"Exactly."

"Can I review the physical contract before signing it?" David pointed to the front porch of an apartment block, where they could review the paper without worrying about rain.

The man shrugged, and dug his hands into his coat.

He revealed a stack of documents, David's favorite pastime.

Strangely, the documents, though they felt like paper, did not drench the slightest bit under the rain.

David took the documents and reviewed the fifteen-page contract again.

'Nothing's wrong here.'

"Is it? Then I'll need some of your blood."

The man took out a thin needle and extended his hand. David sucked in his saliva. He wanted this, but this was so sudden and hasty…

With his hands shaking and his heart beating like a regular earthquake, David held a finger out to the man.

'What's his name?'

"Nimrod."

Nimrod pricked his finger with the needle, and a few drops of blood stuck onto the needle. He then placed the bloody needle on a blank rectangle at the bottom-right of the contract, where the blood moved as if alive and formed the vague outline of a fingerprint.

"Press here."

'Here goes nothing.'

With great force, David pressed his thumb onto the blood. His fingerprint grew brighter and brighter, until it…caught on fire?

The fire did not extinguish under the rain, and began consuming the contract. In a dozen seconds, only ash, and David's nervous fit, was left.

"I'll meet you tomorrow in Greyhound Square at 9:00 AM. Sharp."

Nimrod didn't bother with any pleasantries. He turned his back to David, and disappeared into the misty evening.

David stood dumbfounded, as if all that had happened was a surreal dream.

If that was the case or not, he would find out tomorrow.

…

Today, Greyhound Square was also closed to the public.

Clearlake City was a minor metropolis in the Federation. However, due to the fact that the first Earthling departed from the city, the federal government decided that it was the departing point of Earthlings from within the country.

Therefore, the plaza was even fuller than yesterday.

David looked around. Most of the departees looked younger than him, seemingly in their early 20s or even late teenage years.

Ignoring this source of insecurity, David searched for Nimrod.

"You should learn to protect your back when you get there."

It was Nimrod. The man went back to wearing his mask and sunglasses.

"So you're not torn apart by the dimensional rifts," Nimrod placed a golden sigil in his hand.

David peered at the sigil but found nothing out of the ordinary about it.

"Are you ready?"

'No.'

"That's okay. Gomorrah will force you to be ready."

"How is Gomorrah?"

"It's a strange place. You shouldn't judge the Otherworld with it. Compared to the monsters, Gomorrah will be a sanctuary. You'll have all the food, drink and amenities you want. Seven weeks of training and pleasure before you go onto the real hell."

'I shouldn't get used to it, then.'

"Have you reconciled with leaving Earth?" Nimrod folded his arms.

"Yes."

"That's good. Earth is just a place, and so is the Otherworld. You should learn to miss people, not places."

"From exp-

"From experience, yes," Nimrod finished David's sentence.

"Earthlings!" A loud voice reached over from the center of the plaza. Too loud, for the distance it came from.

Nimrod nodded, and whispered in his ears, "I'll see you in the Otherworld. When you get to Gomorrah, tell Amran I sent you there, she will offer you help."

"Thank you."

David bid Nimrod goodbye and advanced towards the source of the voice. It was a dark-robed man with a masked face. It seemed they liked hiding their identities in the Otherworld.

The man waited for the future Earthlings to gather before him, and then he continued, "We'll depart in five minutes. Keep your sigils on you."

'Five minutes…'

It was five minutes, then three minutes, then only 30 seconds. With everyone around him making conversation, the crowd steadily pushed the solitary David to the outskirts of the gathering.

Quiet chanting could be heard from the wizard-like man.

When only three seconds were left, David let out a prayer, "May peace be upon Earth. Farewell."

And thus, they disappeared.