Ibeos: What If? "Lost in My Own Fantasy"

Chapter 3. Arrested Developments

Landing heavily on the coarse dirt of the arena, the breath knocked out of me, I scrambled to my feet, painfully aware of the thousands of eyes suddenly fixed in my direction. The guards, still several paces away, advanced with cautious steps, their confusion evident as they eyed my out-of-place attire—a bright blue tropical shirt and gym shorts, glaringly alien amidst the traditional garb of the spectators.

Gasping for air, I mustered all the strength I could gather and shouted at the top of my lungs, "I HAVE TO SPEAK TO ARCH MAGUS CENTAURI—IT'S AN EMERGENCY!" My voice boomed through the arena, reverberating off the walls. A moment hung in suspense before two Quartz Guards swiftly approached, their hands clamping down firmly on my arms. I struggled against their hold, desperation clear in my voice, "PLEASE, YOU NEED TO LISTEN TO ME—LIVES ARE AT STAKE!"

One guard, his red demon-folk skin a vivid contrast against his eggshell uniform, let out a derisive snort. "Looks like someone started the festivities a bit early, eh? Let's calm down and discuss this at the station, shall we?" His tone was patronizing, as if dealing with a wayward child.

"I'm not drunk! Listen to me—thousands will die if we don't act!" My attempts to free myself were futile, and the crowd's mood shifted from surprise to irritation, their shouts turning into boos urging the guards to remove me and resume the festivities.

The human guard, a woman with a stern face, exchanged a look with her partner. "Enough talk, Senshan. Let's wrap this up." She delivered a swift kick behind my knees, sending me tumbling back to the dirt, the air whooshing out of my lungs. As I lay gasping, the cool metal of the handcuffs clamped around my wrists, their weight grounding me painfully to the reality of my situation. The scent of dust and sweat mingled in the air. "By the authority of the Great Promise, you're under arrest for public disturbance and unauthorized entry. You have the right to an attorney; anything you say can and will be used against you in court..."

As she recited my rights, my protests turned into desperate pleas, the gritty taste of dirt mingling with my growing despair. "Please—just listen! We don't have much time!"

Ignoring my pleas, she gripped the back of my neck firmly. "Enough. We'll have plenty of time to talk after you've cooled off. Somnum." At her command, a wave of overwhelming drowsiness similar to anesthesia enveloped me, my struggles slowing, my cries slurring, until my vision blurred and darkness took hold.

Grogginess clouded my mind as consciousness slowly reclaimed me, the soft hum of ambient energy vibrating in my ears. My eyes fluttered open to a room aglow with a gentle, pulsating light—no harsh fluorescents, but a luminous essence that seemed alive, responding subtly to my stirring. As I shifted on the surprisingly comfortable cot, the light intensified slightly, illuminating the stark, minimalist confines of my cell.

The walls were smooth, crafted from a material that shimmered with a soft inner light, giving the impression of depth and movement beneath its surface. There were no bars, only a seamless, transparent energy field that hummed quietly at the cell's entrance, its magical barrier flickering with a spectrum of colors whenever a guard passed by. The air itself felt charged, tingling against my skin.

As I tried to sit up, my muscles protested, sore from the unexpected exertion of the day and my fall into the arena. Just then, the energy field at the entrance pulsed more brightly as someone approached.

A guard appeared, his appearance distinctly that of the Gnog—a race of people I had originally conceived as peacekeepers in my world, known for their hard stone-like skin and orc-like appearance. He eyed me with a mixture of curiosity and caution. "You're awake," he stated, his voice carrying a melodious tone that almost seemed to harmonize with the background hum of the cell. "How do you feel?"

"Confused," I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck. "And like I've been hit by a car. Where am I?" My voice was hoarse, each word laced with genuine bewilderment.

"This is the Lower Holding Facility of Cadon," he replied, his expression softening. "You caused quite a stir at the Festival. What were you trying to achieve by jumping into the arena like that?"

I paused, the reality of my actions and their consequences starting to sink in. "I thought I could stop something terrible from happening," I said slowly, the memory of my own stories mixing with the fear that had driven me. "I wrote about this place, about all of this. I'm still not entirely sure I'm sane."

The guard studied me for a moment, and sniffed the air, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Strange. Your words will need verification, but I smell no deceit on you," he said finally. "You'll speak with the Magistrate soon. They'll decide what's to be done with you."

As he turned to leave, I shouted back, confused at his explanation. "Wait! Magistrate? The Quartz Guard should be governed by the Arch Magus..." I trailed off, unsure of what was happening.

The guard paused at the doorway, his figure casting a long shadow back into the cell. He turned slightly, a silhouette against the pulsating light. "You speak of ancient Cadonian governance as if from a history scroll," he said, his tone tinged with a mix of amusement and curiosity. "Magic has long since evolved, and so have our peacekeepers. We are governed by the High Council now."

Left alone once more, the weight of his words pressed down on me. Ancient history? In the sea of irrationality that was my situation, the only rational explanation was that I was wrong about where I was. Or I guess I should say, when I was? Not only was I stranded in Ibeos, but it had also moved on without me, morphing into something beyond what happened in those campaigns. Exactly how long it had been, I couldn't be sure, but with his mention of centuries, it was well far past anything I had written.

As I lay back, the cot's unexpected softness enveloped me, offering a stark contrast to the harsh reality of my cell. Curling into a tight ball, I let the rhythmic pulse of the ambient light wash over me, a small comfort against the surge of emotions. Memories of home, of laughter and warmth, flashed before my eyes, intensifying the ache in my chest. A single tear escaped, tracing a path down my cheek as I whispered to the uncaring walls, "I miss home."