[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: China Country]

"Seems I'm back," Grimm murmured quietly as awareness returned to him.

He found himself once more upon one of the narrow beds inside the small wooden hut, the mattress creaking beneath his form. Sunlight filtered in through the single square window, rays cutting across the interior and spilling outward over the porcelain city beyond. Outside, the city was beginning to stir—figures moving slowly, each step carefully made. No doubt learned from fear of breaking.

For a moment, Grimm did nothing.

He stared up at the dull wooden ceiling, its grain uneven, its construction practical and dull. Armor still encased his body, perhaps he was too lazy to take it off. Whatever the case, he drew a slow breath and forced himself upright, his armors joints shifting with a soft noise as he repositioned himself to sit on the edge of the bed. His gaze drifted sideways, settling on the service cart near the wall.

The service cart still stood where it had been left. Several plates were now empty. Others bore remnants—darkened meat scraps, smears of sauce and scattered vegetables abandoned without ceremony.

He regarded it silently.

"So," he thought dryly, "she ate all of it."

The conclusion came easily enough. Puck had been the only other presence here. Yet even as he accepted it, a crease of puzzlement formed in his mind. The sheer quantity of food consumed did not align with the fairy's size, or at least not with what logic suggested it should have. How such a small being could consume so much was anomalous.

Ultimately, he dismissed it. Interesting, perhaps—but not interesting enough to pursue.

("Hm. It was surprisingly easy to escape that realm…") His thoughts drifted back calmly. The observation carried no sense triumph for the General, only unease. Ease implied assistance, and Grimm was keenly aware that ease was also rarely afforded without intent.

("Something made it easier than it should have been.")

That in itself was interesting, but something else filled his mind.

(" Still… Alice. A child, wielding that degree of power.") The thought gnawed at him. Strength like that rarely coexisted with innocence, and yet she had carried herself with a strange and fragile dignity—as though she were playing at being composed because someone had told her that was what she was supposed to be.

The idea lingered longer than expected. ("So composed and yet—")

His fingers flexed once.

("That look in her eyes. No child should look like that. That girl is damaged.")

"So," a voice chimed suddenly, far too close, "where exactly have you been?"

The interruption was abrupt enough that most would have flinched, perhaps even reached for a weapon. Grimm did neither. He merely tilted his head slightly, turning toward the sound. Hovering beside the bed was Puck, her small form suspended effortlessly in the air, pink eyes fixed on him with unabashed curiosity. There was no trace of fatigue or restraint in her expression—only interest, an interest that was both bright and invasive.

("Odd,")

He had not sensed her presence at all.

The realization unsettled him more than he let on. Back in the forest, she—and the other fairies—had appeared just as suddenly, as though stepping into existence rather than arriving from elsewhere. He had not sensed their approach then either. For someone so thoroughly tempered by battle, magic, and unnatural threats, possessing senses honed beyond the mundane, this failure was troubling.

He finally spoke.

"Why," Grimm asked evenly, his voice calm but the scrutiny could be noted, "was I unable to perceive you just now? You were here, and yet there was nothing."

Puck's brows knit together, and she planted her tiny hands on her hips midair.

"I asked you first," she said pointedly, her tone sharp with insistence. "You don't get to dodge my question by throwing one back at me."

"I was partaking in tea," he replied flatly.

The words were true. Incomplete—but true.

Puck frowned, her gaze sweeping over him as if searching for cracks in the statement. "Tea," she echoed skeptically. "Really? Because from my end, you weren't just sitting around sipping politely. You were completely disconnected from this realm for a while." She paused, then added more quietly, "Though… I could still feel you. Like a thread was connected to you, one stretched thin."

("So she noticed,")

Grimm's attention sharpened.

"Then," he said slowly, "that connection you speak of—the one that allowed me to leave and return so easily—was that your doing?"

Puck's expression brightened immediately. "Yep. Absolutely," she said, nodding with no small amount of pride. "I used the harpy feather you had on you. Since magic doesn't really affect your body the normal way, I needed something non-magical to work with. Gier's feather was perfect for that—special properties, but not technically magic. I anchored myself to you through it." She leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Which brings me back to the important part. Who did it? Who took you out of this realm? Don't dodge it—tell me."

"It is your turn," Grimm replied without inflection.

Puck let out a small, exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes as if indulging an unreasonable child. "Ugh. Fine. You're impossible." She straightened, lifting one finger as if beginning a lecture. "It's a trait most fairies have, though not all of us can use it properly. Phase jumping—that's what it's called."

She began to pace the air as she spoke, clearly enjoying herself. "There are twelve dimensional spaces in existence. Normally, to move between them, a being has to ascend—grow so powerful that the current dimension physically can't contain them anymore. It's unstable and usually ends very badly." She flashed a proud smile. "But fairies? We don't need to do that. We can just slip in. Drift sideways into another dimension without tearing ourselves apart. Though sometimes we can use it on others, with much difficulty."

Grimm considered this. "Dimensional theory was never my field," he admitted, "but I assume we currently occupy a third-dimensional space."

Puck nodded eagerly. "Yep! The standard one. Where most living things exist. Also where ascended beings get sealed when they're forced back down." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "I heard that Greater Dragons used to ascend naturally, once. Long ago."

"I imagine," Grimm murmured, "that the process was far from clean."

"I wouldn't know," Puck replied, her tone sobering briefly. "Most don't." Then, just as quickly, curiosity flared again. "But that's not the point. You still haven't told me. Where were you? And who pulled you out of this realm?"

"You are remarkably curious," Grimm observed.

Puck tilted her head, mirroring him. "And you aren't?"

A pause.

"Perhaps," Grimm said at last. "But my curiosity often seeks purpose—something to fill or something to answer. Other times…" His voice lowered slightly. "It is merely a personal hope."

Puck blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Hope?" she echoed. "What does that mean?"

Grimm lifted a gauntleted hand in a dismissive gesture. "Nothing important."

"So you're just going to be cryptic now?" Puck murmured, her tone dry but not careless, the words however held a thin irritation. "Is that how you handle things—by half-answering?"

"It often makes situations easier to avoid," Grimm replied calmly.

Puck hummed softly at that, drifting a little higher as she considered it. "Huh. I suppose that is useful," she admitted, though the concession did not soften her expression. "Still… you should be careful. Avoidance has a way of circling back when you least want it to."

Grimm tilted his head slightly but he remained silent, allowing her to continue.

"I've heard that traversing realms isn't something you can just do without consequence," Puck went on, cupping her chin as she spoke, her gaze unfocused as she sifted through half-remembered memories. "Sometimes something notices. And when they do, they tend to respond."

"As in it is forbidden to do so?" Grimm asked.

"I only know the general shape of it," Puck said with a small shrug. "There are rules—very old ones. Structures that keep things from spilling where they shouldn't." Her eyes sharpened slightly. "The Queen and some of her attendants, like Cobweb, came from another realm entirely. I heard that because of it, a God was sent down to punish them."

That caught Grimm's attention.

"Your Queen was victorious?" he asked.

Puck's lips curved into a proud smile. "Of course she was. She's the Queen of all fairies," she said firmly. "Her power isn't something you underestimate lightly." Then, after a beat, she added, "Though… she didn't stand alone. There was help. From a certain dragon."

"Albion," Grimm said quietly, the name fitting neatly into place as the larger pattern resolved itself in his mind. The attitude fairies carried for that name suddenly made sense. "I see. Then tell me—can I expect to face a God as well?"

Puck narrowed her eyes at him, hovering closer. "Why," she asked slowly, "do you sound eager when you say that?"

"I am merely curious," Grimm replied. "I have only seen a God once before."

That answer was enough to spark her own interest completely.

"Really?" Puck leaned forward, pink eyes bright. "Which one?"

"The Goddess of war and magic," Grimm said.

Puck froze midair. "Wait—Octavia?" Her voice rose despite herself. "The Primordial God Octavia?" She stared at him openly now. "You actually saw her? I've only heard stories—she's supposed to be overwhelming. One of the highest Gods there is. Beauty so intense it borders on well... it's apparently absurd. She doesn't even govern this realm, and still most knows her name. So—what was she like?"

Grimm waved a gauntleted hand dismissively. "Nothing interesting."

Puck blinked. Once. Then again. "You cannot possibly be serious," she said flatly. "She's a Goddess of magic. One of the most fundamental powers in existence."

"There is another God who interests me more," Grimm said, unbothered. "But returning to the point—would a God descend to confront me?"

Puck sighed, rubbing her face with both hands. "You talk about Gods the way humans talk about bad weather," she muttered. Then, more thoughtfully, "Perhaps. But it's more likely they'd seek dialogue first." She paused. "If anyone did, it might be Iofiel."

"Iofiel," Grimm repeated. "What can you tell me of this Goddess?"

"She's the sole governing God of this realm," Puck explained. "Her domains are very broad. Too many to count cleanly. But for most of history, she stayed distant. Only in the last three hundred years did she start involving herself with Álfheimr at all." Her expression dimmed slightly. "Then she stopped. No one really knows why."

Grimm listened as he slowly rose to his feet.

"Given that you have traveled realms twice now," she continued, "and given what you are… she may seek you out."

"I see," Grimm murmured, interest threading through his voice. After a brief pause, he said, "Then let us go."

Puck tilted her head. "Go where?"

"We will meet the princess of this place," Grimm replied. "And if she proves uninteresting, we will move on."

Puck gave him a long, dry stare. "You really shouldn't judge things solely on how interesting they are," she said with a tired sigh.

Even as she spoke, she knew it would make no difference.

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