Charco ceased to be from existence.

He had drawn from the unreality's well of power once before but knew not what to expect upon pressing the button; the concerned thoughts of what-ifs only became noticeable past the point of return. Sensory deprivation came immediately, the mortal mind and physiology ill-prepared for such a journey. Yet, he would soon become aware of all, or rather the lack of anything, around him. He took in a breath but he would find no oxygen for intake, but rather the concept of oxygen. Confusion filled his fuzz-filled thoughts, unable to fully understand the observations coming to mind. Life did not exist here, but still, he lived because it is what he believed, what he willed into nonexistence. Breath could not be taken, but still, he breathed because it was how he believed he could exist here. Thoughts strayed, bringing mixed signals as his body felt as if it were burning and freezing simultaneously because he had not chosen how he believed the temperature to be. It was as if he were the master of this realm but at the same time, a prisoner to his whimsical perspectives. Like a child pulling back a curtain, he knew nothing but instinctively knew the importance of it all.

"It's always quite the experience."

That voice. While his memories were foggy, the stranger's voice seemed to guide his mind toward recognition. Pushing past mental barriers, forgotten memories bubbled to the surface. He had forgotten his journeys in the broken remains of his mind and soul, and those who had chosen to join him, making him whole once more. No, he hadn't forgotten, he realized, the old bastard had made him forget. A bitterness filled him and he could only reflect on the lens of naivety he had previously seen the man through.

"Lao Long... Old Dragon... can't say you're a man of subtlety."

His memories drifted forth, bringing shape to the voice. A mask of leathery skin for his face, lined with wrinkles, especially the laugh lines around his right eye, its sibling hidden beneath an eyepatch from which a golden dragon medallion was stitched in. A pair of glasses sat upon the bridge of his nose, although he had long since lacked a need for them. Steel gray hair crowned his scalp, the mane held back by a loose braid at his shoulder blades, the color the same as his long, wispy beard. A body clad in a night blue changshan, embroidered with silver thread, its empty left sleeve was left to dangle uselessly. This was the Old Dragon he knew, but now he understood this being was a facade for something else, not of this universe and perhaps further beyond that.

"There was no deception to be had," Lao Long replied, his voice soft and smooth with practiced grace, "I just wasn't important at the time." Whether or not it was the truth or an influence telling him so, Charco believed him, although it made little sense.

"And you are now?"

"In the grand scheme of things, no, but, honestly, very few are. To you? Perhaps a bit more now."

Time hadn't made the cryptic bullshit any more palatable, but he would not get a chance to retort as they both felt unreality rumble. Breaking through the null in slow, circular motions, the first of them appeared, followed by several more. Various colors and hues spilled forth like the petals of blooming flowers as stars, planets, and galaxies came into view and but for just a moment, Charco had forgotten to breathe.

"Quite beautiful; this is a sight not many get to experience. The barriers that once kept your world hidden away from the multiverse have fallen. It is only a matter of time before Zenos attention is caught and this universe is judged once again... but that is not our concern right now."

"Wha... the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Gesturing to the massive figure that coalesced in the unreality only to vanish just as suddenly, he was utterly baffled, "Do you not think that is important enough?!"

Lao Long laughed softly, his remaining hand idly stroking his beard, "Perhaps... but you are far from ready."

"Bullshit!" He spat out, "That fucking bitch, Islay, said I was done!"

"For her part, yes, you were... and then you happened to have consumed a large source of creation energy."

Without warning, the Old Dragon jabbed him in the side. The jab itself lacked little power, but his body screamed in agony as if he had been sporting an injury all this time without his knowledge. He doubled over, a grunt of pain escaping his lips, leaving him unable to ask the questions that would soon be answered.

"For all of your life, your body has been unbalanced, just like the rest of your bloodline; poisoned by the corrupted hakai. To the credit of the Ogatan, you adapted, mastering this imbalance by going to the extreme of this darkness, but by taking in that creation energy, you have offset this. Your soul broken, your body imbalanced, surely you have noticed its effect on your mind? The fatigue and apathy you have felt, broken only by the extreme sensations given to you in battle."

As much as Charco wanted to deny it, the old bastard had a point. The memories of recent events had been a blur, his only excuse being that it wasn't interesting enough for him to care. As bad as a cloud cadet that he was, it had never been this bad.

"So what should I do? This is not exactly the best time to relearn how to... exist."

"Perhaps... but Islay has prepared for this."