A Mutant Collector Quest

A bittersweet feeling washes over me as her beautiful face lingers in my mind. "I will see you soon, Aelsa," I whisper, determined to win her heart despite the challenges ahead.

"Did you visit Alfheim, Luke?" The Ancient One's voice resonates in my mind.

Of course, the Ancient One would know about Alfheim, one of the Nine Realms. She must also be familiar with its queen, Aelsa.

"Yes, teacher. It was the most beautiful and wondrous place I have ever been," I reply, a sweet smile on my lips as I recount to her all that I experienced. "Though I should remember to brush my teeth twice when I get home," I add at last, the lingering sweetness still dancing on my tongue.

"Yes, it's definitely a paradise of sweets," she responds with an amused laugh. "So, are you planning to explore a new path?" she asks curiously.

"Yes, Teacher," I reply positively. How could I stop now, especially after the last path turned out to be such a rewarding adventure?

"Alright, go on… but keep your mind vigilant while you are out there," she advises, her tone growing serious.

"I will." I nod, fully aware of the deadly traps and dangers that could be hidden within these portals, as my past trips to Asgard and the Savage World had proven.

I gaze at the shimmering paths before me, each glowing with a unique hue. After a moment's thought, I point to one. "This one," I say, selecting a path that was coloured in purple and blue colours.

[ Path 3 (Roll: 67/100) Blue and Purple Patterns: This path shimmers with intricate designs, glowing softly in cool tones.]

As I soar above the route, I notice that the glowing path, likely composed of some type of gaseous substance magically held in place, is adorned with intricate tiny patterns. These patterns, in hues of blue and purple, constantly shift in shape and size, creating a mesmerizing display.

It is fascinating to watch, but before long, I have already arrived at the crack. This time, too I refrain from telling teacher that I will be back soon, having already learned the hard way that such assurances can backfire.

Instead, I take a deep breath and silently plunge into the crack.

The moment I cross the threshold, it feels like the universe itself is crushing me. Every inch of my being screams in agony, the pain searing and incomprehensible. And then, as quickly as it began, it is gone—vanished like a nightmare at dawn.

"Haaa… Haaa…" I collapse to my knees, gasping for air. My astral form drips with phantom sweat, every fiber of my essence trembling as though I have been wrung through an invisible grinder. Yet somehow, impossibly, I am still whole. Still alive.

"What the fuck just happened?" I mutter, my voice shaky as I struggle to steady my thoughts.

The ground beneath me squelches unpleasantly, its sticky, gooey texture sending a chill down my spine. Fighting off the lingering phantom pain, I rise unsteadily to my feet. Instinctively, I hover above the unsettling terrain and conjure a protective forcefield around myself

My surroundings are utterly alien. Strange trees tower around me, their thick, unnatural trunks, which are clearly not made of wood, sprouting bizarre, gooey mushroom-like growths. Even stranger shapes extend out from their trunks—organic, but far from anything I have seen on Earth.

The ground itself is coated in a layer of whitish, sticky substance, and the air is filled with tiny floating organisms. Tentatively, I inhale, but there is no discernible scent. The environment feels like a twisted underwater world brought to the surface—alien and surreal, yet eerily captivating.

Looking upwards, I see that the towering tree-like structures stretch high into the sky. Their tops are crowned with gooey, tentacle-like formations that writhe gently as if alive. Among them, jellyfish-like organisms float serenely, their translucent bodies shimmering with an ethereal glow.

"Is this an above-ground, underwater world?" I mutter, perplexed. The environment around me is eerily reminiscent of the strange, otherworldly lifeforms found in the deepest ocean trenches. Yet, the air I am breathing is unmistakably not water. One thing is certain: I am in a forest—an alien forest—more surreal and otherworldly than any I have ever encountered before.

As I silently observe my surroundings, my mind drifts back to what I experienced upon entering the crack. Normally, stepping through a space crack—assuming it is a stable wormhole—should be as simple as opening a door and walking through. There should be no other sensations, no dramatic shift. This had been the case in my previous three trips too.

But this time, for the briefest sliver of a second, I felt unimaginable pain. I don't think I was attacked—there is no evidence of that around me. Could it have been the atmosphere of this place? The dimension itself? Perhaps this world enforces laws fundamentally incompatible with your existence, breaking my body in some way—or attempting to impose new rules upon it.

If that's true, then perhaps I survived the journey only because my current form is astral in nature. From my limited understanding of magic, an astral body is essentially consciousness given form—a corporeal manifestation of energy. Such a form, being malleable, might have been able to adapt to this alien dimension's laws. Painful though it was, my astral essence must have endured.

I sigh, coming to terms with the likelihood that this is not just an alien world, but an entirely alien dimension. The fundamental laws here may differ drastically from those of my home universe.

Of course, these are only conjectures and theories. It could also be something entirely beyond my current understanding. With these thoughts stored in the back of my mind, I focus on the present and begin exploring this new world.

I deactivate my floating spell, allowing my feet to touch the sticky, whitish ground. Surprisingly, it supports me well enough, and walking isn't difficult although it squelches slightly with every step. As I take a few steps, I observe the peculiar plant life surrounding me.

The vegetation resembles corals and underwater reefs, twisted and grotesque in form. Fungus-like growths sprout from thick trunks, their shapes unsettling yet fascinating.

"This really feels like an underwater mushroom world," I murmur, captivated by the alien beauty around me. Despite its ugliness, it's a living, breathing alien ecosystem—a true marvel.

If only I had all my tools here. The scientist in me itches to collect samples of everything—the goo, the floating organisms, the jellyfish-like creatures above. Even the gravity feels different, lighter than back on Earth. Not enough to make me float, but I am certain I could jump higher and farther in this strange environment.

Before I take another step, the world suddenly plunges into darkness. I glance around, realizing that the faint light filtering through the bizarre tree structures has dimmed drastically.

Curious, I float upwards alongside these alien trees. As I rise above their tops, I notice something peculiar in the distance. The trees further away have entirely different canopies from those surrounding me. Their tops resemble inverted mushrooms, with the caps appearing as thin, translucent layers of organic material.

I ascend even higher, trying to take in more of the landscape. Yet, no matter how far I rise, all I can see are these alien treetops stretching endlessly in every direction.

Then, my gaze shifts straight up, towards the sky, which has grown bright once again.

"What the fu-!" What I see leaves my mouth hanging wide open.

The sky, unlike Earth's familiar expanse, is filled with strange, massive objects. Enormous spherical and irregularly shaped masses float above. Were they asteroids? Perhaps a planetary ring system like Saturn's? But no—these cannot be asteroids. These objects seem far too close to this planet, and they are not all spherical—some are shaped like elongated rods, others have appendages that trail behind them like tails. They resemble enormous, inorganic fish gliding through an infinite ocean.

Beyond these objects, radiant light sources pierce through dense, multicolored clouds of gas. There isn't just one source, but many—scattered across the sky like a chaotic array of stars, each surrounded by a luminous haze.

The entire scene feels chaotic, as though the sky itself is a junkyard of cosmic debris. It looks as if the heavens have been polluted with space junk drifting in plain sight. If I had my Focus or even a telescope, I would have been able to study this bizarre cosmic tapestry in greater detail.

However, one detail stands out, something particularly peculiar. The objects in the sky aren't stationary. The entire sky is shifting rapidly, almost unnervingly so. I doubt such massive objects could orbit a planet at these speeds, which leads me to a startling conclusion: it's not the objects moving—it's the planet itself. The ground beneath me must be spinning at an incredible rate.

I focus on a spherical object in the sky, assuming it to be this planet's moon, and watch as it moves out of sight within minutes—something the Moon on Earth would take hours to do.

"This is dizzying," I mutter, trying to steady myself as the world around me blurs with motion. My mind races through possible explanations for the planet's extreme rotation speed. Just as I am processing these thoughts, the sky changes again, and what I see next utterly blows my mind.

My breath catches in my throat.

"What the hell?" I whisper, awe and disbelief mingling in my voice.

Gigantic, planet-sized DNA chains now fill the sky.

Each helix glows in hues of yellow, blue, green, and other multicoloured shades. The familiar double-helix structure of DNA, with its interconnected spherical nodes linked by cylindrical bonds, spans the heavens in colossal grandeur.

"How, why, and what?" I stammer, my eyes wide with shock. The sky seems to be growing more crowded with these structures, their immense forms stretching across the night.

As I take in the surreal sight, I notice something even more astonishing. Interspersed among the massive DNA chains are other molecular-like shapes—large, intricate formations that resemble hydrocarbon bonds from a chemistry model. The spherical nodes are connected by rod-like structures, forming what appears to be molecular configurations on a cosmic scale.

I narrow my gaze, trying to discern more. Among the molecular titans, smaller spherical objects drift—moons or planets, perhaps, caught in the gravitational sway of these gargantuan molecular giants.

My sense of scale begins to falter. Are these DNA-like structures truly that massive, with planets orbiting them? Or is this an optical illusion, my perception tricked by the rapid motion of the objects in the sky? It reminds me of how the Moon on Earth seems enormous when near the horizon but diminishes when higher in the sky—a simple trick of perspective.

With my eyes growing dizzy from the kaleidoscopic, ever-shifting sky, I decide to descend. The far-off wonders of this alien dimension can wait. For now, I need to focus on the immediate challenges posed by the strange, unfamiliar environment around me.