Merrick felt like pinching himself. There was no chance that what he was seeing was real. He had just been walking down a hallway in an old library to try and find the basement stairs. There was a strange smell, a swirl of mist, and an awfully familiar voice. Then everything faded away.
It was not a sudden disappearance like he blacked out and now was lost in the darkness. Instead it was like he slowly lost consciousness and the world around him faded into a soft void. There were stars in the distance, but not just above. There was a tangible ground beneath his feet, he could feel it solid as he tried walking around. When he looked down to see it, though, all he could see was a swirling purple mist that came up to his knees like the swelling waters on the shore.
Something in the back of his brain told him not to reach down into the mist to find the ground. Instead, Merrick wandered around for a few moments trying to figure out what had happened. That same part of his brain that told him not to reach down to the ground beneath the mist also told him that this was not real. That was the part that wanted him to pinch himself.
This was a hallucination, a dream, a gas-leak induced coma that left him locked inside his mind while his body died in that hallway. It could be, Merrick knew that. It could be any of those things. However, this felt real. It was different from a dream. In a way, this strange swirling void felt real in the way that Dungeons Below felt real, he was experiencing this but not physically.
The voice had told him to use his new skills to break free. Even if this was a dream or a hallucination, Merrick had to at least try to get free. With a deep breath, Merrick did his best to clear his mind and focus on one singular thing. It had worked when he left Dungeons Below and brought the item into the real world.
He knew exactly where the relic dagger was and all he needed to do now was bring it here. As he released the deep breath, Merrick realized that he had instinctively closed his eyes. When he opened them, Spell Stealer was in his hand. It was the same that it had been when he found it behind the wall in his first dungeon or when he had first summoned it to the real world.
Spell Stealer was proof that there was more going on. Unless his entire life had been a dream since several months ago when he got booted from Dungeons Below by that woman from Mouseion, the dagger that Merrick now held was proof that this was really happening. He could not explain it but he knew that the void around him was as much of a real place as the hallway in the Hilltop Gallery that he had just been in.
The dagger's returning quality had served Merrick well, both in-game and in reality, but it was not the one that would serve him now. The name Spell Stealer came from the dagger's ability to capture, store, and reuse arcane energy. It was an arcane trickster's blade and even if Merrick did not have any skills to help him break free, the dagger had plenty.
With a test swing, Merrick cut downward toward the swirling mist. The tip of the blade touched the mist and cut through it like molasses. It took a bit of effort but Merrick cleared the swing and the area that the blade had touched faded. Merrick could finally see to his feet and the ground below. Now, instead of swirling mist, there was a section of dirty tile beneath his feet. The same dirty tile that had made up the Hilltop Gallery's hallway.
As if it's appetite had been teased, Spell Stealer now felt hungry in Merrick's hand. Rather than swing the blade at the mist like Link searching for rupees in the bushes, Merrick stabbed downward into the tile and focused as hard as he could on the idea of returning to the hallway. The blade sunk easily into the tile, much easier than it had passed through the mist initially.
Energy reverberated outward from the blade, the mist was pushed away like sea foam leaving with the tide. Merrick was back in the hallway, Spell Stealer was still in his hand, but now it suddenly felt less real. He had been so sure while he was in that strange realm that it had been reality.
With a knee planted on the ground, a dagger stabbed into the soft tile ground, and a slight headache starting, Merrick wondered if it had just been a hallucination due to a gas leak. That strange smell was still there. It was faint now, but he could almost feel it on the tip of his fingers.
Even Spell Stealer felt less like proof now that he was back. Merrick pulled the dagger from the ground and sheathed it behind his back. Had he really teleported it into that realm? Or had he already been carrying it with him?
It was one of the few things he had that could help protect him. Surely he had not traveled into this strange building without it. The sheath was even perfectly placed on the small of his back with the hilt poking out just where his hand could instinctively grab it. The empty hallway felt real but that strange realm reminded him of Dungeons Below. It felt real while he was there, but now that he was back in reality, surely it was not real.
The faint smell faded completely, Merrick took a second to catch his breath before continuing. It might not have been a gas leak, he rationalized, but he could have inhaled a poisonous mushroom spore or a dust cloud containing abandoned drugs. Now that it wore off and he was starting to think a little more clearly, Merrick dug into his pack and pulled out a scarf that he had packed.
It was not a perfect mask but it reassured him as a poor man's air filter. It was enough to let his mind wander back to the strangeness of his surroundings. Merrick found the basement stair and headed downward. While he went looking for the service elevator, that part of his mind that had wanted him to pinch himself was whispering in his ear that none of this was real.