Mad Hatter's Guide to Clearing The Game
Chapter 183: Ch181. Shifting world

Chapter 183: Ch181. Shifting world

The moment the stone doors of the cathedral sealed shut behind him, Miles felt the temperature shift. Not colder, not warmer, just... Heavier. As though the air had turned to glass and sound to sand.

His captors moved with practiced steps, ushering him through a narrow side corridor that spiraled downward in a slow, tightening arc. He didn’t resist, counting their movements, watching their stances, memorizing the angles they kept between each other.

They weren’t just guards, they were trained sweepers. The kind sent to clean up after dangerous things.

Cheshire remained silent now, somewhere beyond Miles’ vision. Not vanished, but wary, watching, waiting.

They descended into a chamber not lit by flame or spell, but by faint pulses of light running along the walls, arcane veins, glowing blue. Everything here was refined, precise. Built with a purpose.

Eventually, the corridor opened into a stone hall lined with curved pillars, and in its center sat a high-backed throne of metal and bone.

The woman waiting there wore a long coat woven with aether-thread, her hands clad in silver-thread gloves. She was young, no older than Miles himself, but her presence filled the room like frost in a closed space.

Her hair was braided back with wire and charm stones, and her eyes were pale, unnatural, like pearl split by thunder.

The guards shoved Miles forward.

"Careful..." He muttered, catching his balance without stumbling.

The woman gestured lazily, and the guards stepped back. Their weapons remained ready, but they knew who was in charge, and so did Miles.

"Name..." She said.

"Miles Thorn."

"Your real name."

Miles smirked, but didn’t answer.

The woman rose from the throne and walked slowly toward him. She didn’t carry a weapon, but it didn’t feel like she needed one. The walls bent toward her, the aether veins shivered in her presence.

"I’m Gretel. Master of the Turmweg Guild. Bearer of one of the fragments you’re so hungry for."

’Why did it have to be her, out of everyone else...?’ Miles cursed inwardly.

"I’m not here to fight." He tilted his head. "And I’m not here for the fragment."

"Neither was I, the first time." Her voice was quiet, controlled. "Then one of your kind tried to rip my story apart for sport."

"’My kind’, as you so lovingly address them, was only able to leave the borders of our city, in the far east of the continent, less than a year ago."

"Then why are you looking for Himmelsstieg? Why sneak into my city? Why not go through the front door, with names and banners?"

"Because I’m a solo player, and my friend is dying. I don’t have time for red tape."

For the first time, Gretel’s mask cracked. The edge of her mouth twitched, not in a smile, but something else. Recognition. Regret.

"Sarissa...?" She stared at him for a long moment.

"You know her?" Miles blinked.

"No." Gretel turned. "But those who tread with magic have a way of knowing things. They told me about a Paladin who was thrown back into our world, beaten, broken, ripped apart even. They say that Paladin carried the holy fire itself into battle, and still... She lost to something we can’t seem to understand yet..."

"Then you understand why I don’t have time to explain." Miles narrowed his eyes.

"Sit."

Miles hesitated. The guards tensing around him.

Then he pulled a stone chair from the wall with one boot and dropped into it, his arms resting across his knees.

"I know why you’re here." Gretel said. "And I know you’re dangerous. You walk like someone who’s already killed something bigger than you, than us. And you didn’t walk into the Chamber of Whispers by accident."

"You’ve been there?"

"I was with Rolf when he did, but he was something else, and so... I couldn’t follow him, or else, I would have to kill him."

Miles didn’t speak, but the thin line that his lips became showed that he knew what she was talking about.

"You need a fast route to the east, you won’t get it through normal channels."

"Figured as much..." Miles sighed.

"You’re lucky." She said. "Himmelsstieg owes me a favor."

"You’re helping me?" Miles raised an eyebrow.

"I’m not helping you." She turned to face him fully. "I’m helping your consequence. Whatever you’re tangled in is already bigger than this continent, even though you don’t know it yet."

"Leave us." Her eyes flicked to the guards.

The four guards hesitated, then retreated in silence, shadows swallowing them.

Once they were alone, Gretel moved closer and sat on the arm of her own throne, leaning slightly toward him.

"What’s in the egg?" She asked.

Miles didn’t answer, but she didn’t need him to. Her expression turned grim.

"I saw something like that once." She said. "In the Horizon. Near the Maw. It wasn’t alive yet, but my stories screamed when I walked past it. I didn’t linger to know what would come out of it."

"He’s not like that." Miles said. "And he won’t be."

"He?"

"His name’s Dee." Miles nodded once.

"You better pray that name holds." Gretel’s eyes softened, but her voice stayed sharp.

Then she snapped her fingers.

A ripple of magic passed through the walls, and a sigil flared at the far end of the hall.

"You have an hour." Gretel said. "My marker will get you through the gate. But it’ll only work once."

"Thanks."

"I didn’t do it for you." She stood and turned away. "And next time, if you come back, don’t sneak."

"I’ll come through the front gate." Miles rose, his eyes never leaving hers.

She didn’t answer, but her expression said everything.

She believed him.

***

The teleportation took longer than he expected due to the sheer force behind it.

The runes etched into the floor of the circle spun like a clockwork set on fire, and the entire cathedral vibrated as Gretel’s marker – a powerful circle that stretched all the way through the floor of the dark room – punched through distance like a spear through cloth.

The sensation was like being pulled through a needle’s eye with his bones still inside.

And then, light.

He landed on his feet, boots skidding against cracked stone and warped tiles.

He was back.

The city skyline rose around him, taller now, cleaner, even more modern and rebuilt, more crowded than when he left.

The eastern district still buzzed with noise and life, though the air had a darker undertone. Players on rooftops, patrols on foot, flyers with urgent commissions literally flying around.

Something was changing here, too, but Miles didn’t wait to adjust to the scenery. He just ran through the alleys, past the vending carts and glowing lanterns. He took shortcuts only locals knew, and slipped past guards who blinked twice before recognizing him.

And then, he found it. Mara’s Forge.

He kicked the door open, the barrier recognizing him after all this time.

The bell chimed once before slamming against the wood from how fast the door rebounded, and the runes inside flared.

Mara was already moving, emerging from the back of the shop, a tired expression smeared across her face like war paint.

"You’re late." She said, crossing her arms, her eyes not breaking away from the door to Sarissa’s room.

But before Miles could say anything, a scream echoed from behind the door.