The kitchen was quiet after Dario left. Ruben leaned against the counter, rolling a half-eaten apple between his fingers. The skin was smooth, and nothing like the bruised, discount fruit he would sometimes swipe from the mean-spirited street vendors that barrelled into the city and set up shop back home.
He glanced at Corbin, who was slouched in a chair, picking at the frayed edge of his sleeve again. The morning light cut across his face, sharpening the shadows under his eyes, the fresh bruise along his jawline.
"What do you think school's gonna be like?" Ruben asked, more to fill the silence than anything.
Corbin didn't look up. "Same shit as back home. Desks. Teacher's and Boredom." His voice was flat, but there was an edge to it, like he was biting back something hotter.
Ruben nodded absently, his gaze drifting past Corbin to the digital calendar embedded in the far wall. The display glowed softly, the date etched in crisp, unfeeling numerals.
February 17 | Year 520
His fingers stilled around the apple.
"Corbin."
"What?"
"Look."
Corbin followed his stare. For a second, neither of them breathed. Then Corbin let out a sharp, humourless laugh "We really should have noticed that sooner."
Ruben exhaled, slow and measured. "School might not be so bad," he muttered, more to himself than to Corbin. "At least we'll learn about this place. The basics. The history. Things we should know before becoming a Paladin."
He trailed off, staring at his reflection in the polished countertop. Hollow-eyed. Younger then he felt. "We're lucky," he said suddenly, the words spilling out like he'd been holding them back too long. "Dario found us. Gave us a place to stay. Food. Training. Out of everyone in this world, we ended up with him."
Silence.
Ruben frowned, glancing up. Corbin wasn't looking at him. His jaw was clenched so tight the muscle jumped under his skin.
"Why are you so quiet?" Ruben asked.
Corbin's finger's dug into the fabric of his sleeve. "Its nothing."
"You're lying."
Corbin's chair screeched as he backed up, pacing like a caged animal. "Yesterday," he spat. "Felix ambushed us. Trapped us in that weird fucking 'Game' thing. And what did I do? Nothing."
Ruben blinked. "That's not…"
"You helped me," Corbin snarled, whirling on him. "In the Game. Outside it. When Elise was kicking the shit out of us. You thought. You didn't lash out. And me? All I did was yap to piss 'em off until they made us shut up."
His voice cracked. The anger was still there, white-hot and searing, but beneath it, he sounded sad. Something that made Ruben's chest tighten.
"It doesn't matter," Ruben said quietly.
"The fuck it doesn't."
"It doesn't," Ruben repeated, firmer now. "When we agreed to become Paladin together, that meant we'd have each other's backs. Struggle together. That's fine."
Corbin's glare could've melted steel. "Easy for you to say. You carried us out of there."
"No," Ruben snapped. "You figured out the plan. You took the most hits and kept going. That's not nothing."
Corbin's breath hitched. For a second, Ruben thought he'd lash out, throw a punch, slam the table, something. But then his shoulders slumped, just slightly. "My power was just… easier to use in that situation. Yours isn't."
"Then that's just something I'll have to work on." Ruben said simply.
Corbin stared at him. Then abruptly, he stalked forward until they were toe-to-toe, close enough that Ruben could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes.
"You're weird." Corbin muttered.
And then he flicked Ruben hard on the forehead.
Ruben recoiled, rubbing the spot with a scowl. "The hell was that for?"
Corbin was already turned away, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Going back to bed. Wake me up when the old man gets back."
He didn't look at Ruben as he left. But his steps were lighter.
***
Dario returned just as the afternoon light stretched long and golden across the kitchen tiles, his arms laden with papers and two sleek black boxes tucked under one elbow. He dropped the stack onto the table with a thud that made Corbin jerk awake from where he'd been dozing against the counter.
"Gather 'round," Dario announced, spreading out a glossy brochure between them. "Time for your crash course on Ostaran education."
Ruben leaned in, his eyes skimming over the bold headings; St. Leontis Academy - Term Schedule. The dates were all wrong.
"School starts in spring. March 1st?" Corbin squinted at the pamphlet like it had personally offended him.
Dario didn't even blink at the question, he had gotten used to Ruben and Corbin's oddity about not knowing the world around them, the world he assumes they were born into.
He just tapped the page. "Everything here's built around Phantasm activity. Spring's the safest window to start. Something about the period of rebirth makes 'em spawn less. March through April is a good time of relative peace." His finger trailed down the calendar. "Summer Term's short, mostly electives. Autumn's when things get dicey. By November, everyone's remote until February."
Ruben absorbed the information quietly. It made a grim kind of sense. Back home, snow days were the worst inconvenience they'd face. Here, entire cities of people would probably have to restructure their lives around creatures that fed on their fear.
The sheer logistics of it, emergency drills, evacuation routes, remote learning for months, it all seemed like a bother.
"You'll be attending St. Leontis," Dario continued, flipping the brochure to reveal a sprawling campus of spires and manicured courtyards. "Many Ego users attend this school. Less chance of sticking out." He shot them a grin. "And also…" he picked out another brochure. "...uniforms. Navy blazers, gold trim. You'll look adorable."
Corbin made a sound like a strangled cat. "Disgusting."
Ruben ignored him, his focus snagging on a more pressing detail. "What about when we become Paladin? Do we still have to…"
"Ah right." Dario scratched his head. "Forgot to mention, but there's a general exam you'd have to take before that anyway, just so they know they're not taking in an idiot. Since you guys go to a reputable school you'll just take it there." He waved a hand.
From his pocket, he produced two black boxes, sliding them across the table. "Speaking of preparation."
Ruben picked his up, turning it over in his hands. The casing was smooth, almost warm to the touch, with a single golden star embossed on the back, it was Ostara's insignia.
"Phones." Dario said, as Corbin already tore into his like a kid on Christmas. "Special ones. Biometric locks, only turn on for you unless you grant access."
The moment Ruben's fingers curled around the device, it hummed to life, the screen flaring bright as if recognizing him. Corbin's did the same, casting blue glow across his startled face.
The phones were eerily familiar, similar. From the touch screens, the settings, and of course again the language, the same language they had seen on city signs.
"Figured you'd need these." Dario said, watching their reactions with amusement. "Expensive little things, so don't lose them."
"Thanks." they both said.
For a long moment, the kitchen was silent save for the soft taps of Corbin exploring his new device. Ruben ran his thumb along the edge of his phone.
"Eleven days till term starts," Dario reminded them, gathering the scattered pamphlets. "Read up."
As his footsteps faded down the hall, Corbin slumped back in his chair, groaning.
***
Corbin's bedroom was a study in controlled chaos, a space that seemed to vibrate with restless energy even when its occupant was still. The walls, painted a deep slate gray, were bare save for a single jagged crack near the ceiling where he'd apparently tested his Ego.
A black duvet lay half-shoved off the bed, the sheets twisted into knots as if they'd put up a fight. The desk was littered with crumpled energy bar wrappers and a dented metal water bottle. Everything was so lived in even though he's only been here a couple days.
Ruben sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, his back against the wrought-iron frame, while Corbin paced like a caged animal, his socked feet scuffing against the hardwood.
"Uniforms," Corbin spat for the third time in ten minutes. He kicked at a stray pillow. "Blazers, even back home I never looked like such a preppy doll."
Ruben picked up the pillow and threw it back at Corbin's head. "It's only for two years, Corbin."
"Two years of being dressed up to look like an asshole."
"What you're wearing isn't going to change much." Ruben said silently.
Corbin still heard him though, he paused mid-step, shooting him a glare. Ruben met it with a half-shrug.
Then Corbin flopped onto the bed beside him, the springs groaning in protest. "Still bullshit." he muttered, but the heat had bled out of his voice.
The silence that followed was comfortable.
"Hey Corbin," Ruben called out. "What kind of life did you have before?" Ruben was interested because of how much Corbin speaks whenever the topic is about money.
Like when they first got to this house he made some comparison about it being even bigger than his, like his was the biggest he had seen. And even just now, when he was talking about not even having to go to a private school.
"I lived in a big house. Parents had tons of money. Even after my dad died my Mom only got more when she started modelling and hosting runways."
Woah. That was surprising. But it made some sense, with how Corbin dressed, with how he ate, with a kind of poshness that Ruben had only noticed from the rich kids he had the briefest of interactions with.
That makes him think that if they were back in their old world, Corbin and he lived in completely different realities and there was a high chance that they never would have even met.
He didn't dwell on that too much.
"You ever think what our powers mean?" Ruben asked.
Corbin rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand. "Meaning?"
"Like… why they are what they are." It felt hard to vocalize what he meant so he thought the less he spoke the easier it would be for Corbin to come up with an answer.
"Well, I'm pretty sure however we died is supposed to be a part of it." he responded.
"Why do you say that?" Corbin wondered how he came to that conclusion.
"When that bastard Felix was questioning us, they asked questions about how we died. So I think how a person dies would have to reflect somewhat within a person's Ego."
That was a good thought. But then how would Dragon's fit in a car crash?
"But I still don't know how my death relates to my Ego. Boost. The more danger I'm in, the stronger I get." He flexed his arm, the muscle tightening under his skin. "Perk of almost dying a lot maybe. We can ask Dario again later."
Ruben nodded, turning the information in his head. It made sense. A power that rewarded his survival instincts.
"That's insane." Ruben admitted. "You'll be unstoppable as a Paladin."
The words tasted bitter on his tongue. His own Ego felt clumsy in comparison, a creature of myth summoned to fight alongside him.
Corbin's laugh was sharp. "Dario's still on another level. That fucker blew up a sky and changed the entire layout."
Comparison to Dario. Corbin's certainly aiming high.
As if on cue, both boys reached for their phones, the screens flaring to life at their touch. Ruben's thumbs hovered over the keyboard. "Let's see who else is out there."
The search was a rabbit hole of names and nations, a tapestry of power that spanned continents.
Zara Bennet. Éirath.
The image that loaded was of a woman in her early twenties, her pale purple hair tied back in a loose braid, her sharp dark brown eyes scanning the camera like she was already three steps ahead of whoever had taken the photo.
She stood with her arms crossed, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips, as if someone had told her a joke as they snapped the flick.
The caption beneath read; "The Wolf of Éirath."
She was labelled an up and comer, one of the strongest of the new generation of Éirathi people.
They scrolled further to see the other names. Ronan O'Brian. Brigid Ni Sheain. Warriors from a land of mist and a lot of folklore from what they could see. Like the Brannoch mountains which were said to be the bones of a sleeping God.
"Éirath doesn't have a Warlord." Ruben noted, frowning.
Corbin nodded but then scratched at his thin. "It looks like the place is just a bigger version of the Republic of Ireland."
He was right. Ruben felt like he should have noticed that. There were quite a few Irish people he had known from school back home.
There were many differences this world had to the one where they were from. Ego's were the most noticeable. But there were also similarities, so much so that they seemed like copies.
Ruben thought for a moment. "You think there are others like us?" he asked quietly. "People from our world who just… ended up here?
Corbin didn't answer right away. His fingers drummed against his knee, a staccato rhythm that matched the pulse in Ruben's ears. Then, with a slow exhale, he typed something new.
The screen loaded a comic cover. Sea of Dreams.
Ruben's breath caught.
The boy drawn on the cover wore a straw hat and a wide, thin smile.
"No fucking way." Ruben breathed, snatching the phone. The art style, the grin, the hat, it was One Piece. But the title was different. The author's name though was not who he was expecting. It was the name Luca Ladri. Printed in bold letters.
Corbin's smirk was razor thin. "Surprised you know it. Didn't peg you for a nerd."
"Surprised you know it," Ruben shot back. "You seem more like the one who'd bully me for reading this."
Corbin flipped him off, but there was no heat in it. He scrolled to the next page, a publication history. Chapter 528. Last updated three years ago.
Then the kicker.
[Author Luca Ladri found deceased in his Caerlynne apartment. Cause of death: Decapitation. 528 stab wounds recorded.]
Caerlynne was the capital of Éirath.
Ruben's skin prickled. "Someone killed him."
"No shit."
"No, I mean," Ruben's mind raced. "What if it was someone from our world? Someone who recognized the story?"
Ruben's eyes gleamed as he continued to think about this. "Ladri. That's Italian." he said, surprising Corbin. "Means 'thief'." Ruben chewed his lip. "Probably a pen name. Guy knew he was stealing."
Corbin barked a laugh. "You speak Italian?"
"Some. My dad shoved me into extra classes after my mom died." Ruben's voice was flat. "Kept me out the house." Ruben knew even back then that his dad just wanted him to come back home without the burning hatred in his eyes that he had for him.
Corbin studied him for a long moment. Then, in flawless French… "Le monde est un endroit cruel, mais au moins nous sommes ici ensemble."
Ruben blinked. Then Corbin translated it. "The worlds a cruel place, but at least we're here together."
Ruben smiled.
"Mom's French." Corbin shrugged, but his shoulders were looser now. "Made sure I knew it too."
They sat in silence, the weight of the words settling between them. Two boys from a lost world, speaking languages that probably didn't even exist here.