“H-hello?”

The Warrior of Wubstep called out as the sinister smoke around him began to dissipate. The desert landscape had vanished entirely, replaced instead with familiar, grassy fields, adorned with bright yellow flowers. He was laying at the foot of a gnarled, ancient tree, peacefully resting his head on his rucksack. Dumbledalf was nowhere to be found; only the calming sounds of local wildlife accompanied the warrior’s confused voice. The young hero smiled as he watched a nearby family of birds chirping at a berry bush, arguing over who got to eat first. It had been an incredibly long time since he’d felt so at ease. Yawning contentedly, he stretched his arms over his head and cracked his knuckles before sitting up.

The warrior peered across the meadow and breathed a sigh of relief as a very recognizable shape came into view. Looming in the distance, its rounded battlements reached skyward while the morning sunlight reflected off its glistening green walls. The entire structure pulsed rhythmically, fueled by the energy of the kingdom it protected.

He pinched his thigh in disbelief, then rubbed his eyes thoroughly before looking back a second time. “Home sweet home” he whispered, extremely confused yet ecstatic to be back. The tireless journey across the kingdom, the countless nights hiding from moustached maniacs and purple demons - had it all just been an awful nightmare? The warrior was far too weary to ask any questions. If it looks like a Jelly Castle and moves like a Jelly Castle, well it must be a Jelly Castle. Right?

Jumping to his feet he grabbed his rucksack off the ground and slung it over one shoulder, then collected his boots from a nearby branch where they were hanging. Struggling to put them on in his haste, he grunted with frustration while pulling the tight leather armor over his feet. He strapped his sword and shield to their usual place on his back, then started to excitedly sprint towards the castle.

What should have been a short run back to his beloved home quickly became an endless marathon. No matter how fast he ran, the castle wasn’t getting any closer. If anything, it was now further away, as though he’d been running backwards this entire time.

Pausing to catch his breath, the winded warrior placed his hands on his knees. As the pounding of his heart faded, he looked around and realized that the pleasant sounds of nature had subsided into an eerie silence. The animals, the wind, even the nearby river; everything was silent and still. Something was very wrong.

His gaze returned to the castle in the distance, whose gargantuan green walls were beginning to bulge outward, giving it a much more bulbous shape than before. The blocks of gelatinous material they were made from shook violently as large cracks began to appear on their surface. Finally, with a bone-rattling boom, the friendly fortress reached its breaking point. The ceiling instantly evaporated into a green mist as the walls exploded outwards, breaking into thousands of slimy chunks.

“No no no, not again!” screamed the warrior, not wanting to witness the destruction of his home for a second time. He clenched his eyes shut, but a burst of excruciating pain surged through his skull, forcing them back open. All he could do was stare helplessly as the world around him erupted; white hot flames swept across the meadow, instantly incinerating everything in their path. His fallen comrades lay at his feet, their weapons and armor strewn on the ground while pieces of their home rained down from the sky.

The Warrior of Wubstep trembled in terror as dozens of purple corsairs materialized out of the fire. The mob of disgusting demons growled menacingly as they surrounded him, their revolting orange eyes sizing him up as they inched closer. He planted his feet firmly and drew his sword, bracing for attack. The nearest corsair lunged towards him, laughing diabolically as it rushed forward. Spinning to one side, the warrior dodged the beast’s strike, decapitating it with his blade in one fluid motion. The severed head landed at his feet with a sickening thud, the tongue still twisting and turning as saliva leaked from its lifeless mouth. The warrior looked downward, locking his gaze with the dead demon’s singular, bloodshot eye.

“Okay I definitely killed you before. I’d remember that ugly mug any day” the hero quipped at his fallen opponent. Refocusing his attention on the pack of enemies in front of him, the warrior raised his arm over his head, ducking underneath his shield. He took a deep breath then charged into the corsairs, bulling his way through the crowd of scaly flesh and razor-sharp fangs.

With one final heave of his shield, the Warrior of Wubstep knocked the last of the monsters to the ground. Vaulting over the stunned soldiers he made a break for the nearby forest, hoping to lose them in the dense foliage. However, his valiant escape was quickly thwarted as a searing pain lanced through the back of his right thigh. One corsair, quicker than the rest had scrambled back to its feet and swiped a spear at the escaping warrior, catching him in the leg. The agony was immediate as he felt rusted metal rip into his flesh, cutting him to the bone. Raising its arms in victory, the corsair snarled triumphantly as blood trickled down of the blade of its weapon.

The flayed fighter faltered before falling to the floor. His vision went fuzzy as the ferocious fiend moved in for the finish, raising its weapon overhead. With a hefty swing, the purple predator brought its spear crashing down onto the warrior’s raised shield. The frenzied corsair continued to rain blows down, each strike closer to knocking the shield from the exhausted hero’s grasp. Finally, he could hold on no longer, and the battered piece of metal was knocked aside. It clattered noisily down the rocky outcrop, landing far out of reach.

The beast stood overtop of the fallen warrior, resting one foot on his chest. Drool poured from its agape mouth as it sickeningly licked its lips. The warrior grimaced in disgust, drenched in slimy saliva as he thrashed underneath the weight of the monster.

Without warning, the corsair dropped its weapon and began to claw at its chest, frantically tearing off pieces of armor. Massive pustules rapidly formed along its body and it began to convulse involuntarily, twisting and turning as it grew. In an instant the creature had nearly doubled in size, every vein in its body bulging as its skin stretched tighter and tighter, almost as if something was trying to claw its way out from inside. The corsair opened its mouth to let out a final, pained shriek before the festering mass on its chest ruptured, sending violet-colored guts flying in every direction.

“Yo! Mr. Warrior, there you are. Sorry to take so long, made a couple wrong turns along the way. Also…EW”

Dumbledalf emerged from the swollen corsair body like he was shedding some kind of nightmarish cocoon. He vigorously brushed his hands on the front of his blood-stained robe in a failed effort to clean them, then raised his sonic scepter. Pointing it directly at the remaining monsters he bellowed loudly, “PAUSIO HALTIMUS!”

“WHAT. IS. HAPPENING?” yelled the warrior, completely losing grasp of reality. He stared at the wizard in absolute shock, unable to comprehend the events of the last few minutes. As Dumbledalf’s voice echoed around the battlefield, his spell took effect and the chaos came to an abrupt standstill. The corsairs stood frozen in time, their still-snarling faces illuminated by the motionless flames surrounding them.

“Dude, you got blasted with a nasty case of Flashback Fever” laughed Dumbledalf, whistling dramatically. “Ya took it like a champ though, that smoke hit you right in the face. POW! Lulls you to sleep then forces you to relive the worst days of your life for eternity. One of the more vile spells out there, whoever cursed that cartridge was a total turd.”

“W-w-wait...” stammered the warrior. “If that’s true then why didn’t it have any effect on you?”

“Well after countless hours of wubtendo, and chronic Super Ultra abuse, I think it’s safe to say I’ve got more than a few holes burned in the ol’ grey matter” replied the wizard, tapping his head. “Not a whole lot of memories left to trap me in, y’know? Now enough talk about how amazing I am, let’s get outta here!”

Dumbledalf reached down, grabbing a large root that was deeply embedded in the ground. With an exclamatory grunt he yanked his frail body upward, pulling with all of his might. The warrior’s eyes widened as he watched the impossible happen; the ground ripped away like a flimsy piece of fabric, leaving a gaping hole in the dirt. On the other side he could once again see the dusty sand dunes of Gritburn Gully.

“By the way, Mr. Purple Pants over there and that fancy spear he stuck you with weren’t even real, so you can stop the whole crawling-on-the-ground-in-pain routine” mocked the wizard, as he beckoned for his companion to jump into the opening.

The warrior shook his head as he clambered back to his feet, brushing the dust from his armor. He looked at Dumbledalf, still completely bewildered. “I can’t believe I’m actually going to say this but…wow. Thanks, man. I would’ve been stuc—"

“Sorry, who are you?” interrupted the old man, wearing his usual cheeky grin. “KOWABUNGAAAA!” he yelled, before diving headfirst into the hole.

To be continued…