Dimension Walker: The Veiled Paragon

The fruit was unlike anything he'd tasted before.

Norian sat near the pond — its waters now clear and still, with only the occasional ripple from distant steam vents.

It looked... normal. Almost disappointingly so, compared to the radiant miracle it had been the night before.

The cavern was still dark and damp, its rocky walls beaded with condensation. But the lizardmen had lit rows of torches throughout the village, warm orange fire casting flickering shadows across the stone. In this false daylight, it almost felt like morning outside.

Beside him, a small basket rested on the stone.

It was filled with fruits — oval, round, and oddly twisted ones, their surfaces slightly translucent, like overripe crystal.

Even though their bioluminescence was dulled by the ambient firelight, the faintest glow still clung to their skins.

He'd tried to refuse at first — too many, he said. But the villagers had insisted. It would've been rude to keep saying no.

So now he sat with a lap full of alien produce.

Crunch. Crunch

He took a bite from a red fruit that looked like a mango but tasted like roasted banana dipped in honey. Another one — small, pale green, gourd-shaped — surprised him with a tangy citrus burst that shifted midway into something like mint.

He blinked, laughing softly.

"These things break every law of food."

The village behind him was bustling.

Children dragged broken planks and handed them to elders. The elderly barked instructions but worked just as hard, shoulders hunched, scales glistening from heat and effort. Even with the damage left by the bandit attack, no one sat idle. No one sulked.

There was a strange warmth in watching it — a quiet resilience in motion.

He took another bite of a soft pink fruit. This one was firmer, with the texture of pear but a flavor somewhere between guava and toasted cinnamon.

Still delicious… but maybe not quite as magical as when eaten under the stars.

He leaned back on one hand and stared at the pond again. The water's reflection flickered with the torchlight, casting gentle patterns across the stone. It felt peaceful. Still.

Then something clicked in his head.

'Wait... I can still access the system, right?'

The thought seemed random, but it tugged at him, like a loose thread he hadn't noticed until now.

He tilted his head slightly and spoke in his mind, not aloud — almost instinctively:

Ding!

A soft sound echoed in his head — like a ripple passing through glass — and a faint blue shimmer appeared before him, suspended mid-air.

Just a single tab. Minimal. Subtle.

His eyes scanned the text, squinting slightly at the familiar yet foreign script.

✧═─〈 SYSTEM INTERFACE 〉─═✧

[2] Mission Hub:

Current Mission: 1

Objective: Convince 1,000 unique individuals of Veltharion's existence.

Progress: 36 / 1,000

༺═─────────────═༻

He noticed the number 2 beside Mission HUB.

'I wonder what the 2 is for.'

He wondered but kept reading. And he blinked.

'Thirty-six?'

He hadn't checked since the beginning. Last he saw, the number had been stuck.

But now…

'Good.'

A small smile crept across his lips. A quiet, honest joy flickered in his chest. It was that kind of joy you feel when something you've thrown everything into — something uncertain, impossible — starts to actually move. Even if it's just a little.

Even if it's only 36 out of 1,000.

It was something. It was progress.

And for once, it didn't feel out of reach.

He swiped down — or tried to.

And to his surprise, the screen responded. A new panel unfolded beneath the mission log.

✧═─〈 SYSTEM INTERFACE 〉─═✧

Hidden Mission Unlocked

Objective: Save Xerion

Description:

The world of Xerion is succumbing to the Abyss.

Its people have cried out in silence for generations.

Echoes of this suffering reached you through folklore and fractured memories.

Save the world before it's consumed.

Mission Difficulty: [Extreme]

Rewards:

• 1,000,000 ₳C

• [Rare-Grade]: Aether Manipulation Primer

• World Ruling Rights of Xerion

༺═─────────────═༻

Norian stared at it.

His smile froze.

"…what."

A million AetherCred?

That's… at least fifty million Veltharion Currency.

He swallowed hard. That was the kind of reward kingdoms started wars over.

His eyes hovered over the two buttons that glowed faintly beneath the description.

[ Accept ]  [ Reject ]

He stared for a long moment.

Then, with a long exhale, he reached forward and pressed Reject.

But the system wasn't done.

A new window pulsed open in front of him.

✧═─〈 SYSTEM INTERFACE 〉─═✧

Are you sure you want to reject this mission?

This mission will disappear permanently.

༺═─────────────═༻

Norian sighed.

"Why do you have to make this so difficult for me…"

He muttered under his breath, then tapped Yes.

The mission vanished with a soft chime, leaving only the faint glow of the original mission behind.

There was no way he could handle something like that right now. He could barely get through a village ambush without collapsing. No. Not yet.

But he couldn't help fell slightly regretful. But quickly shook his head.

'Nope,no never, nah-uh, not happening. Greed kills people and I want to live.'

He took deep breaths to calm himself.

He turned back to his fruit basket and took another bite, his mouth still half-open.

"Human,"

Garuda's voice rang out from behind him, sudden and sharp,

"are you alright? Are you having... seizures or something?"

Norian nearly choked on the fruit.

He coughed, looked over his shoulder, and squinted.

"How do you even know what seizures are?"

Garuda frowned.

"What do you mean? Do you think your the only one in this village who knows anything?"

Norian stared at him.

'This lizard is smarter than he looks...'

Then, after a beat, nodded.

"Fair point."

Garuda tilted his head in that weird lizard way, like he didn't quite know if he was being insulted or complimented.

Norian returned his attention to the glowing fruit and took another bite.

He still didn't know what half these flavors were.

But for now…

It was enough.

*****

✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢

✶ Dimension Walker ✶

✧ The Veiled Paragon ✧

⊱ Eternal_Void_ ⊰

✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢

*****

Night had returned.

But on Xerion, night was a lie.

The cavern glowed — not with firelight, but with the living breath of the forest itself. Mosses shimmered like scattered stars across stone walls. Veins of crystal in the rock pulsed softly, like distant heartbeats.

The trees outside the village cast slow, dancing patterns across the cave ceiling as bioluminescent leaves swayed in the humid breeze.

Even the pond, which had been dull and eerily quiet in the day, now came alive.

It shimmered with a palette of blues and violets. Pale-gold fish darted beneath the surface, glowing like living brushstrokes in motion. They leapt occasionally, tiny splashes catching the reflected starlight of the ceiling moss. The water rippled with joy.

Norian sat there for a moment, just watching. A soft smile played across his lips.

He had to admit it.

It was beautiful.

The lizardmen had finished repairing the village — fast. Shockingly fast. Where broken stones and burnt planks had been just hours ago, now stood a neat, functional village. The winding pathways had been restructured, the houses rebuilt, and even the torch placements were cleaner than before.

Their work ethic was no joke.

He chuckled softly and turned to Garuda.

"Can you gather everyone?"

He asked.

"I want to talk to them. All of them."

Garuda tilted his head.

"All of them?"

"All sixty-four."

Garuda didn't question further. He simply nodded and walked off, his deep voice barking out commands with clarity.

It didn't take long.

The villagers trickled in one by one, then in clusters — young, elderly, men, women, even the children who had been hauling planks earlier.

They gathered near the edge of the luminous pond, seated in an open half-circle, faces aglow under the light-drenched cavern.

Norian stood in front of them, not on a pedestal, not above them — just at the same level, hands loose at his sides, shoulders relaxed.

He exhaled once.

Then spoke.

"Well,"

He began,

"my mission here is simple: I have to tell you about the place I come from."

The lizardfolk blinked, curious.

"I'm from a world called Veltharion. It's… very far from here. In fact, you'd need something stronger than wings to reach it — you'd need the system or more espacificly, permission from will of the world itself."

A few whispered amongst themselves.

"So, if any of you have questions about it… ask. I'll do my best to answer. I want you to know what kind of world I came from."

There was a silence.

Then — a small hand shot up from the crowd.

It belonged to a young lizard boy with vibrant emerald scales and wide, sparkling eyes.

"I want to ask!"

He shouted.

Norian grinned.

"Go ahead."

"In your world,"

The boy asked eagerly,

"are there others like you?"

"Like me?"

Norian chuckled.

"You mean handsome and modest?"

A few chuckles rippled through the crowd.

"Joking. Yes — there are many like me. In fact, everyone in my world is like me. Well… in their own way."

The boy tilted his head.

"What kind of place is it?"

Norian looked up, as if trying to pull the memory from the stars.

"Hmm. Good question,"

He murmured.

"Let me try to explain it properly."

He took a deep breath and stepped forward slightly, his voice softening.

"In Veltharion, the ground is covered in stones, not dirt — but not like your stones. They're smooth, patterned, arranged into great roads that stretch further than you can see. And the buildings? They're not huts or wood — they're towers. Huge, endless towers of metal and glass. Some of them reach the clouds."

The villagers murmured.

"People live hundreds of levels above the ground. Some live in floating homes. We have machines that carry us across the land — not on legs or wheels, but in the air. We call them hovercars."

More gasps.

"We talk to each other through little black squares — from one end of the world to another — and it's instant. No waiting, no messengers. Even if someone's thousands of kilometers away, I can see their face and hear their voice."

They were listening now — eyes wide, jaws ajar.

"We tell stories too — in books, yes, but also in light. Moving pictures. We call them anime, or movies. You can watch entire worlds unfold in front of your eyes without leaving your seat."

A small girl gasped.

"Is that real?"

Norian smiled at her and nodded.

"We have weapons… dangerous ones. Not spears or axes — but things that roar like thunder and throw metal faster than the eye can see. We call them guns. And we don't just fight with them — we also fight across dimensions."

He paused here, letting that sink in.

"We have something called the Dimension Walker System. It's like what I have now. If I complete my mission, I'll be granted the right to travel across worlds, access their resources, and bring them back to Veltharion — trade them, sell them, study them… and grow stronger."

He raised his hand and clenched it into a fist.

"You saw a glimpse of what I could do. That strength… you can have it too. If my mission succeeds, the gates to Veltharion could open for people like you. You could become Dimension Walkers. Travel other worlds. Learn and Grow."

The crowd fell silent.

Their eyes sparkled in the gentle light, not just with wonder — but with something deeper.

Hope.

For many of them, this was the first time they'd heard that they weren't bound to Xerion's fungal woods and glowing fruit. That their lives could extend beyond this cave, this village, this cycle.

Norian looked at them.

"I'm not here to make promises,"

He said quietly.

"But I'm here to open a door. If you believe my world exists… that's all it takes to push it open a little further."

A hush fell over the gathered crowd.

Then, with a rasp like wind through old bark, a voice spoke up — patient, low, and weathered by time.

It belonged to an elderly lizardman whose scales had turned dull silver, flecked with patches of deep rust-brown.

His back was slightly hunched, and he leaned on a cane made from a crooked root carved into the shape of a spiral. His eyes — a pale, watery yellow — had always seemed to be looking upward, even when staring forward.

He was known among the villagers for one thing above all: his obsession with the sky.

"Human boy,"

The elder called gently.

"You spoke of roads, machines, and stars… but what about your sky?"

The murmurs stilled again.

The old man's voice had that kind of weight.

"What does it look like?"

He asked,

"Where you come from?"

Norian blinked, surprised at the question — not by its content, but the softness behind it. He hadn't been asked like that before. Not even by the people of Veltharion.

So he closed his eyes.

And for a moment… he was there again.

"Veltharion,"

Norian began slowly,

"has two moons."

He opened his eyes, the reflection of the glowing pond shimmering in his gaze.

"One is large — massive. Silver with deep cracks, like scars carved by ancient gods. That's the one that orbits Veltharion. It's the one we see the most.

"The other is smaller… and it orbits the big moon. Like a child clinging to its parent as they circle the sky together."

The old man tilted his head in reverent silence, drinking in every word.

Norian reached into the small leather pouch by his side and pulled out two fruits — one larger, glowing faintly pink, and the other smaller, a dull violet.

"Here — think of this big one as Veltharion."

He lifted the larger fruit for everyone to see.

"And this one as the bigger moon."

He rotated the smaller fruit around the larger in a slow circle.

"Like this — our moon orbits the planet."

Then he took the tiny fruit and made it dance around the second one.

"And this little guy? That's the smaller moon. Orbiting the bigger one."

A few children leaned forward in awe.

"But there's more,"

Norian continued.

"Veltharion isn't just a planet — it's the center of the star system. Unlike your world… the sun doesn't rule over us."

He looked around and tapped his chest once.

"Our sun orbits Veltharion. It circles us — not the other way around. And the distance is just right. We don't burn… we don't freeze. The balance is perfect."

The old man let out a breath — part laughter, part disbelief, part joy.

"You said… center?"

One of the younger women asked softly.

Norian nodded.

"Yes. In fact, Veltharion is the heart of a massive web — a central axis. There are thousands of other solar systems, with their own suns and planets, but they all orbit around us. Their motion, their gravity… all tied to Veltharion's pull."

He raised a finger, bringing it closer to his cheek, giving a thoughtful expression,eyes alight now, almost glowing from within.

"The last time I checked, there were over 800,000 known worlds in our system. And every year, more are discovered."

Gasps swept through the villagers — not just of awe, but of deep, trembling wonder.

"And we can travel to them."

He let that sink in.

"We don't fly with wings. We don't sail through skies. We pass through gates — great dimensional portals anchored by the Will of Veltharion itself."

"A gate?"

Someone whispered.

"Yes. At the very center of Veltharion,"

Norian said, his voice reverent now,

"there's a place called the City of Gates."

He smiled faintly.

"It's an island — not just a landmass, but a miracle. From its heart rise towers that touch the sky. Above them, in the air itself, float the gates. Hundreds of them.

Hundreds of Thousands. Like constellations made from carved stone and silver, suspended in the sky by the will of the world. For every subordinate world. So, if there is 800,000 worlds, than that meats there are 800,000 floating gates in the City of Gates."

The elder stared at him, eyes misting.

"These gates,"

Norian continued,

"each connect to a different world. If someone wants to go to another planet — say, for vacation, or trade, or learning — all they have to do is purchase a ticket."

He raised two fingers and pinched the air.

"The ticket links to the gate. Within seconds, the gate appears right before you. You step in…"

He stepped forward with a deliberate pause.

"…and when you step out, you're standing on a different world. New soil. New sky. New everything."

There was no applause.

Just silence.

Even the ones who had scoffed at the elder before — the ones who muttered about "sky-madness" and "star-chasing lunacy" — were leaning forward now, rapt. Their eyes reflected the glowing cavern, but they were seeing something far beyond the stone.

They were seeing possibility.

Norian turned slightly, meeting the old man's gaze.

"And in Veltharion,"

He said gently,

"people like you… people who look at the sky and wonder — they're not mocked. They're the first ones who go. The ones who discover. The ones who chart the stars for the rest of us."

The old man laughed — just once — and bowed his head.

"Thank you… Human boy,"

He whispered.

"For showing me the sky of your world."

-To Be Continued