The first thing Paul noticed was the heat.

Not the gentle warm kind he used to feel when Mina opened the oven to peek at her baking. No, this heat slammed into him, thick and stifling, like a boiling tide trying to squeeze the shine right out of his skin. His glow dimmed to a faint shimmer.

Hunter immediately uncorked a water flask and poured cool relief over him. Paul let out a blissful, “Ohhhh… refreshing,” as the moisture sank into his skin.

His breath stalled. Heavy, rhythmic hoofbeats echoed off stone and iron.

They weren't far from where the portal had dropped them: a vast, cracked obsidian plain that led into the edges of a sprawling marketplace. Jagged towers loomed in the distance like black fangs. Smoke curled from vents cut into the earth itself.

GATO’s message appeared in Paul’s vision.

GATO: You have twenty-eight minutes to find your next ingredient.

Paul clasped his tentacles excitedly. “I wonder who we’ll meet this time!”

A new window popped up.

Map/World Stats

Name: Underworld

Arrival Location: Minotaur Market

Ingredient Prediction: Vendor?

Setting: Very hot, demon realm, sulfur vents, labyrinthine stalls

Hazards: Demons, minotaurs, bureaucracy, bureaucratic demons

Portal Close: 28 minutes

He Xiangu pinched the bridge of her nose, looking like someone who’d stepped into a past she hoped had burned away. “Knew it. That whiff of brimstone was unmistakable. If any demons try to make small talk, keep walking. If they mention timeshares… move faster.”

Binky sniffed the scorching air with a pleased twitch of her whiskers. “Smells like my old burrow.” 

They followed the hoofbeats toward a great archway. The sign above it looked like someone had painted it using fresh blood and fire. It shimmered in the heat like it might drip off the stone and read:

MINOTAUR MARKET

Paul wobbled in discomfort. His mantle heated too warm. A soft bubble pulsed around him, cooling the air instantly. He blinked in surprise.

Hunter poked the bubble with a finger. It gave no resistance.

GATO: Courtesy of our atmospheric tech. Adjusted for your biology. It filters hot air but doesn’t affect your movements or your ability to interact with the world.

“Oh, thank you!” Paul spun happily in the cooled air. “I feel like a brand-new squid.”

He Xiangu shot GATO a look. “Thought you weren’t supposed to intervene.”

GATO: Environmental shielding is allowed when the environment would kill the questing party member before reaching the ingredient. This will not protect him from physical harm.

Before Paul could thank her again, a chorus of roaring voices erupted inside the market.

Turns out minotaurs didn’t simply sell goods, they yelled their business into existence. Great, beefy merchants bellowed over one another, stamping hooves and waving their wares. The air quivered from the noise alone.

Binky clapped her paws over her ears, walking more upright than usual with an adorable, furious waddle. “If they don’t shut up, I swear I’ll—”

“Smile and bear it until we get what we need,” Hunter said through gritted teeth, bowing awkwardly to passing demon shoppers.

Every step deeper into the market made them stand out more. Demons of every shape haggled, snarled, or lounged about. Minotaurs towered over cramped stalls. Impish creatures darted between hooves. And toward them oozed a slime demon wearing a grin too wide to trust and dressed in a flame-patterned vest.

“Friends!” he warbled, sliding in close. “Have I got an opportunity for you. A permanent vacation lair! Buy one century, get the second—”

Hunter leapt over him, clipping his shoulder.

The slime formed around him, eyes laser-focused.

He Xiangu stepped in like a blade unsheathed. “We’re not interested. And your offer violates Demon Commerce Statute Seventeen.”

The slime demon froze. “You… you know the statutes?”

He Xiangu’s eyes sharpened. “Daughter of the Demon King.”

The gelatin wobbled. “Right. Yes. Of course. My deepest apologies—”

Binky hopped forward.

The demon snorted. “What, going to sic your pet bunny on m—”

Binky rose onto her hind legs, eyes glowing a violent purple. “I’m nobody’s pet. Keep blocking our way and I’ll rip out your tongue and feed it to you. That’s just for starters.”

The slime demon melted backward into the shadows without another word.

They pressed on through the maze of market stalls. Spices smoldered in clay pots. Weapons glowed with infernal runes. A vendor sold bottled screams. Another sold “certified curses” with a money-back guarantee.

But—

No cheese.

Paul felt panic nibble at his glow. “Where’s the cheese stall supposed to be?”

They stopped near a minotaur whose entire body was covered in thick, shaggy orange fur — like a living, oversized sea-pumpkin beast Paul had seen once in the tide pools. Soft-looking. Huggable. Except for the very sharp horns.

He Xiangu nodded. “Asking for directions will speed things up.”

“Hey, big guy!” Binky barked. “Where’s the nearest cheese stall?”

The minotaur snorted, nostrils flaring around a gleaming nose ring. He gestured at an array of anvils and hammers. “I sell forge tools, not cheese.” 

Before he could begin a lengthy pitch, Binky cut him off. “Good for you! I’m sure your mother’s proud. Now point us to the cheese.”

The minotaur’s expression iced over.

Paul rushed to smooth things. “If we have time later, we’ll come back to see your wares! Also, nice nose ring!”

“I am not an information service. I belong to the Forge Horn Clan. We do not sell cheese.”

He practically spat the last word.

“Oh, don’t feel bad,” Paul said warmly. “I’m sure you could learn! I have a wonderful recipe for—”

Binky scratched her ear thoughtfully. “Come to think of it… can you milk a minotaur? Then you wouldn’t even have to buy—”

The minotaur’s eyes bulged so wide Paul feared they’d fall out. He slammed a hoof on his table and rang a bell overhead.

A demon appeared in a snap. Clipboard in hand and a sharp suit, the being exuded a deadly efficient aura.

“Oh no,” He Xiangu muttered. “It’s a bureaucrat.”

Binky’s jaw snapped shut so hard Paul felt the vibration.

“We can’t punch our way out of this,” Hunter whispered. “Not with paperwork involved.”

The Forge Horn Minotaur launched into an outraged complaint. His voice rose with every sentence.

“You’d think we insulted his ancestors to the eighteenth generation,” Binky rolled her eyes.

The bureaucratic demon turned a baleful stare on them. “You have insulted one of our vendors.”

“How is asking if he’s milkable an insult?” Binky thumped the ground. “He has cow parts!”

The demon’s pencil scratched across her clipboard. She mouthed each word with grave importance. Insults… made… on more than one occasion. A second stack of forms materialized at her elbow like freshly hatched paper spawn.

Hunter flashed his most charming smile. “There’s been a misunderstanding, Miss…” He squinted at her badge.

MINUETTA TALLYMORA – Small print is my domain.

“…Miss Tallymora. We were only looking for the cheese stall, and my little rabbit friend here—”

Tallymora tapped her pencil sharply. “We have rules of etiquette here. Upon entering this market, it is assumed you understand the rules of engagement. Fail to do so, and you will be fined. Fail to pay, and you will be imprisoned. These strictures prevent carnage and increase sales. We learned after… incidents.” 

Her thin smile suggested she remembered every one of them fondly.

Hunter’s smile wilted like lettuce in the sun.

“Leave it to me,” He Xiangu said. “I’d like to speak with your boss.”

Tallymora stiffened. “I’m afraid he’s busy.”

He Xiangu squared her shoulders. “Under Section Nine of Demon Consumer Rights, Subrule C, clause ‘Immediate Supervisor Presence,’ you must summon the market manager when a visitor disputes a fine involving cultural misinterpretation.”

Tallymora’s eyes widened. Her face looked like someone who had not only been seen, but understood. 

“Oh,” she whispered, clutching her clipboard to her chest. She flicked open a rune-stamped communicator. “Requesting managerial oversight… yes… Priority level Red-Ink Five… Understood.”

Moments later a minotaur in a razor-cut suit strode forward. His hooves clicked like polished stone. His voice came out smooth and deep, every word placed with deliberate elegance.

A minotaur in a tailored suit strode towards them. His coat was the darkest black Paul had ever seen, his horns gleamed like carved obsidian, and when he spoke, his voice was deep and resonant — smooth as riverstone, perfectly articulated, and confident in every syllable.

GATO: You have 14 minutes left.

Tallymora bowed her head. “This group has offended a vendor of the Forge Horn clan. Director Ferdinand, sir.”

Paul’s gaze drifted to the name badge: Ferdinand.

Oh, he liked that name very much.

He raised a tentacle. “Hello Mr. Ferdinand, sir! My name is Paul. Paul the firefly squid. I’m sorry if I’m speaking too fast, but we’re on a very noble quest and it’s life or death, and we really, really must get some cheese.”

Everyone stared at him.

Ferdinand considered Paul with surprisingly gentle eyes. “I understand your urgency. However, one of your party has made a serious cultural misstep. It is offensive to assume any minotaur is milkable.”

Binky lifted her paw without hesitation. “That was me. I didn’t mean any harm. Let the others go so they can finish our quest for cheese.”

Ferdinand shook his head. “Only the Dairy Caste Minotaurs are milkable. The stall you seek is…” He pointed through the maze of stalls. “…four rows down, seventh left.”

Then he turned a cold gaze on the Forge Horn. “And did you not simply give them directions?”

The Forge Horn bowed low. “I did not.”

“That will do, Minuetta,” Ferdinand said with kindness, but with a dismissive wave.

Her shoulders sank. Without another word, Minuetta Tallymora trudged away, the tip of her tail dragging through the dust like she was too sad to lift it. Even her wings drooped just enough to say I tried my best.

Paul’s glow dimmed in sympathy. 

The Forge Horn crossed his arms but did not protest.

Ferdinand’s attention returned to the group. “Now, I am curious. What brings two cultivators, a talking bunny, and a firefly squid to purchase cheese in my marketplace? You mentioned a quest. Is it divine?”

“No,” He Xiangu said. “Not divine this time. We’re helping save Paul’s world. Long story, and a short window of time to explain.”

“Not divine this time?” Ferdinand repeated, intrigued. “So you work for a god?”

Hunter straightened. “I do. And He Xiangu is my recruit. We’re renovating a tower summoned to my world by the god Claude.”

Ferdinand’s eyes showed a hint of recognition.

“You know Claude?” He Xiangu asked.

“Yes,” Ferdinand said with a faint, fond smile. “He is a friend. We share the same tailor.”

“Nice,” Paul said, stretching upright for a better look at the minotaur’s suit.

“Thank you. I am of the philosophy that one should always present oneself with dignity and poise, no matter the occasion.”

Hunter’s smile returned, this time genuine. He leaned in slightly. “Claude would agree. He thinks a robe isn’t worth wearing unless it sparkles more than its owner.” 

Before Ferdinand could reply, a faint crackle spread across the stones.

White frost curled along the edges of the market stalls. A gust of wind knifed over Paul’s bubble.

Binky swore. “Oh great. Ice crystals. Birds are back. Hell must be freezing over.”

Ferdinand sniffed the air, unimpressed. “Hell does not freeze.”

GATO: Well… about that. It will if you stay much longer.

Ferdinand lifted one perfectly groomed brow, then reached into the inner pocket of his immaculate suit. When he withdrew his hand, a small round medallion lay in his palm — stamped with a cow’s head framed by laurels.

“A Cheese Token,” he said. Even his voice sounded well-tailored. “Show this to the Dairy Caste vendor, and you will receive your purchase without delay. Consider it… a gesture of goodwill for the lack of it in our Forge Horn vendor. And now, if you’ll excuse me, it appears we have an offworld avian incursion to contain.”

As if summoned by his words, a distant crack echoed through the bazaar. Frost began spiderwebbing over a far stall awning.

Ferdinand sighed. “Never a quiet day.” 

He strode off, hooves ringing sharply, radiating pleasant menace and incredible professionalism.

Paul waved goodbye.

He Xiangu followed Ferdinand’s directions while Hunter kept watch for any sign of an aerial attack. Now that they knew which direction to go, the Dairy Caste stall was easy to spot. It glowed with a soft golden aura and smelled like happiness wrapped in warm hay. The minotaur behind the counter was covered head to hoof in creamy-white fur with gentle curls, and her horns had little bells tied around them.

“Oh!” she gasped when she saw the token. “A market-issued Cheese Token! What an honor! Please, choose whichever wheel calls to your spirit.” Her voice was like warm milk poured over fresh moss.

Paul’s bubble cooled as he drifted forward. His senses tingled at once. These cheeses were powerful and rich. Sacred, even. Like something that could soothe a soul that had once been very, very lonely.

He Xiangu bowed, followed by Hunter. Even Binky attempted a bow, though she mostly bobbed.

The Dairy Caste Minotaur hefted a cheese wheel the size of a small sun. “This one has excellent chi flow. Aged precisely ninety-nine days. Perfect for ritual dishes.”

Hunter opened his storage ring. The wheel vanished inside with a soft fwip.

Quest Progress: 3 of 4 Ingredients Collected.

“Right,” he said. “We’ve got the third ingredient. Time to sprint.”

A notification from GATO appeared in Paul’s vision:

GATO: You have three minutes and twenty-two seconds before the portal closes.

They were one stall away from freedom when a thick shlorp echoed behind them.

Paul’s entire bubble trembled.

The slime demon oozed into view, larger than before and twice as pleased with himself. His body spilled across the walkway, spreading fast until he became a glistening wall of ooze.

Binky groaned. “Oh for— we do not have time for you.”

“Time?” the slime demon purred, rippling with smug delight. “You’re fresh out.”

GATO’s timer flashed violently across Paul’s vision:

[19 seconds until portal closure.]

Paul’s glow flickered in panic. “Nineteen—? We’re doomed!”

The slime demon slammed an oily tentacle into the ground — SPLAT — and the path ahead liquefied into a slippery, sucking mire. Another tendril slithered sideways, sealing their escape completely.

Hunter tried to step forward and nearly fell on his face. “He made the floor a death trap. Great!”

He Xiangu bared her teeth. “If we attack him we’ll be fined, detained, or worse. Hunter— think.”

[14 seconds. And there is a containment breach.]

Bird-cries echoed behind them. Frost curled over the stalls, the temperature dropping.

Paul whimpered. “They’re coming. We’ll never reach the portal in time.”

Hunter froze, eyes widening with sudden inspiration.

He reached into his storage ring.

The slime demon leaned forward, oozing confidence. “What are you planning, little cultivator? A fight? A bargain? A scream?”

Hunter drew out… a broom.

A plain, unimpressive broom.

He Xiangu blinked. “No.”

Hunter grinned. “Yes.”