Fantasia: I Am the Dungeon

After 10 more failed attempts, and Cherubella expressing concern about running out of writing paper, Jimbo opts to be more concise and writes:

I want to have many opportunities to become what I want to be.

That way he hopes to make sure not to be born a cockroach and to be able to realize some of his fantasies, such as becoming a hero or an emperor. 

Cherubella rolls up the piece of parchment and places it on the empty scale. The scale once again shakes. Jim watches the process with his hand and face at the edge of the desk, and is startled when for an instant the scale promised to throw the paper into the air. The instrument's movements calm down and the balance reaches stability.

"One point of balance, good," says the angel. "We can go on"

"It's about time!"

Cherubella guides Jimbo to the golden machinery and instructs him to step into the open valve, whose container is just the right size for the souls. Jim is still enraptured by the promise of reaching a fantasy world, and enters the machinery without hesitation. The angel pushes the lid and, with a grunt and a lot of effort, manages to close it.

"Does this thing fly, or what?" Jim asks, his voice muffled by the metal that surrounds him.

"Not exactly," Cherubella says as she settles in the seat, looks through the scope, and begins to manipulate the levers located on the sides of the chair. The lever on the left moves the horizontal axis of the tube, and the lever on the right moves the vertical axis.

"It's moving! Is it normal?" exclaims Jim.

"It's normal," Cherubella replies without taking her eye from the scope. Beyond paradise there are star clusters. Galaxies of various shapes and sizes, Fantasia being one of compact size but vibrant colors, shaped like a dragon or a winged beast. 

"Thank you for everything, Cherubella. I have a question, though..."

"Yes?"

"Doesn't it cause problems for you to send the reincarnated remembering that heaven exists and who they were in the past?"

"They don't remember"

"Huh?"

"The soul washer erases and cleans the memories. One or two memories remain, but they disappear bit by bit in the subconscious when they are babies or in the course of the first years"

"You didn't tell me!"

"You didn't ask me"

"W-Wait! I have something else to add to my requests!"

"Geronimoooooo!"

Cherubella presses a pedal under the seat and the soul washer activates. As if inside a centrifuge, Jim begins to spin round and round, getting so dizzy that it is impossible to think. Cherubella blows her trumpet in a goodbye gesture.

"Good luck. I hope they assign me to you again," says the angel and presses the pedal a second time. The cannon fires, leaving behind a frosty blue smoke.

Like a comet going faster than the speed of light, Jim screams as all around them galaxies and nebulae pass by looking like blurry trails. He grabs his head and scrunches up his face in an attempt to preserve memories and personality, but already his memory is beginning to fade.

Cherubella? St. Peter? Who are they?

"You're Jimbo, you're Jimbo, you're Jimbo!" repeats constantly as he rushes into Fantasia's galaxy. Enter the cumulus, his trajectory dodges stars, asteroid belts and gaseous planets, until finally a world with a geological resemblance to the planet Earth is in front of him.

He crosses the atmosphere and enters the clouds. The atmosphere clears, revealing a quiet, pretty little town on a green mountain surrounded by forest, where the villagers work happily and distant from the grandiose events of the world. But before Jimbo could reach the cabins, aquamarine chains appear out of nowhere and wrap around his limbs.

"What the hell is this?!"

Making him let out another scream that no one hears, Jimbo is dragged in the opposite direction at breakneck speed. The idyllic mountain landscape changes to a plain turned battlefield. Jim is pulled between the smoking parabolas of catapult projectiles, over the three walls, and through the stone of the castle walls.

In a metaphysical terrain impossible for human eyes to see, the magical chains crash and fuse Jimbo's soul with the gray crystal.

A navy blue ripple runs through and tinges the dungeon core, which slowly begins to spin and emit an echo similar to the wind crashing against the walls of a cavern.

The surprised faces of King Marc and his family; Hilda and her soldiers; and Arrax and his disciples; are colored by the blue glow.

"Incredible..." Musans King Marc before his vision is covered by the back of Hilda, who stands in the front line with her sword drawn, ready to face any danger.

"Be careful, your majesty. Dungeon cores are hostile towards any being that does not belong to their domain"

"Did it work?" Arrax mumbles, just as astonished as the others, until he comes to his senses and coughs to clear his voice in an attempt to disguise it. "I mean... It worked just as I expected. Your majesty, don't worry. I have everything under control"

The castle shakes again. A reminder that the enemy continues to approach.