It was a strange thing to look upon the night sky and behold a moon so similar, yet still different from the one he had drawn his power from for millennia. Stranger yet to feel the presence of foreign gods who laid claim to a domain he alone held sole dominion over for his entire existence. This world was so alive, with vibrant magics and more mortals living in this city than had ever lived in Anor Londo, even at its peak.

From what Gwyndolin had been able to learn since… since dying and inexplicably waking up in a new world, the city of Miami was not even this land's seat of power!

Truly, this strange realm I find mineself in emphasizes mine homeland's decline.

Gwyndolin did his best to avoid such thoughts—he'd had a good day so far and he didn't wish to ruin it by thinking about his homeland. He didn't need to think about the always encroaching darkness, his poisoning, the sister he would never again see, or his… his death.

Gwyndolin could feel his breath growing erratic and an edge of panic creeping up on his mind, so he desperately looked to his surrounding for a distraction.

He was in what these mortals referred to as a park—it was late at night, so there were few people within his line of vision. The ones he could see ignored him thanks to the illusion he had cast to hide his repulsive, frail appearance. The illusions were minor, hiding only his monstrous features and changing his attire to something the mortals might expect.

Such illusions did cause problems, however. A woman who was running for no reason Gwyndolin could discern nearly tread upon his legs as she ran past the bench he was sitting in.

Gwyndolin returned to his musings as he felt the panic begin to recede and his breath level out, after all, he had much to think about.

He had been in this world for a week and he felt like he had a preliminary understanding of its structure. Its technology felt strange and fantastical to him, but Gwyndolin had lived for a very long time and had seen many strange and fantastical things in his life. He had long since learned the skills necessary to take care of himself and was committed to adapting to his circumstances as quickly as possible.

'Tis a simple sentiment, yet one difficult to put into practice.

For the first time in his life, Gwyndolin needed to perform labor in order to receive currency, which was a…vexing situation to find himself in. Even in his diminished state, he did not necessarily require food or shelter in order to survive, yet he still desired such comforts.

Gwyndolin had intended to make use of his above human strength in order to find work at the docks but was swiftly sent away as the supervisor took in his appearance. He could have changed his illusionary appearance to something more masculine, but the pitiful remnants of his pride prevented him from doing so.

Now Gwyndolin was stuck wondering what work he could find with a lifetime of skills that did not match this strange world.

He was momentarily distracted as his legs once again risked being stepped on by a mortal, this time a child.

Gwyndolin found it strange that there was an unaccompanied child in the park at such a late time, but he decided not to question it. He had observed that the local mortals had a tendency to restrain themselves from interfering in the matters of others, and he was intent on adapting to their culture.

Gwyndolin put the child out of his mind and returned to his thoughts.

If he could not acquire resources by taking advantage of his superior strength, then perhaps he could take advantage of his magic. As far as he could tell, it would not be as profitable as working at the docks, but he could deliver packages swiftly through teleportation.

Hmm… but how shall I respond if they request identification? Mayhaps I could—

"Excuse me!"

Gwyndolin was startled out of his thoughts by the young voice of the child he had previously ignored. He was embarrassed to notice that the child had gotten close enough to tug on his sleeves with a frustrated look on his face.

Had the child been calling out to him? He must have truly been lost in thought.

The language of this land was close enough to his own, but he had been told his manner of speech was "old" and he had yet to adjust. Hopefully, the mortal would not ridicule him for his deficiencies.

"Yes, child? Dost thou require mine aid?"

The child released Gwyndolin's sleeve and scrunched up his face before speaking.

"Are you a superhero? You are, right?"

Gwyndolin raised both of his eyebrows in surprise—though his illusion kept a placid expression, he had heard of superheroes. That was the title these mortals had given to the god they referred to as Superman, a being who held power that far eclipsed Gwyndolin's father even in his prime. Why would this child compare such a being to a deity as feeble and inadequate as himself?

"Why dost thou believe me to be a superhero?" Gwyndolin asked, his curiosity towards this strange child increasing.

"Because you've got snake legs, which means you have superpowers!" said the boy excitedly. "And you're not doing bad things, which means you're not a villain, so you've got to be a hero!"

"Thou can see mine true form? How?"

Gwyndolin checked his illusion to verify that it had not fallen while he was distracted, only to find it fully functional.

"I dunno," the boy admitted, shrugging sheepishly. "Grandpa says our family's magic. Maybe that's why?"

One of Gwyndolin's serpents flicked a forked tongue into the air and he could indeed recognize the distinct taste of magic emanating from the boy. He had not noticed any sorcerers amongst the mortals since his arrival, so he had made the mistake of crafting a lesser illusion that would not fool those who possessed magic.

The consequence of arrogance, Gwyndolin thought with self-recrimination as he strengthened his illusion.

"Hey! Where'd your feet go?" the boy exclaimed. Gwyndolin was forced to swiftly move his legs away as the child tried to grasp the serpents he could no longer see.

As the child ran back and forth in front of him, Gwyndolin took the opportunity to study the mortal who had seen his true form. The child seemed to be around 10 years of age and had blond hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin. Gwyndolin did not know much about children, but the boy seemed to be healthy and well fed—not surprising given this land's prosperity.

"What is thine name, child? Where art thine guardians?"

The child refocused his attention on Gwnydolin, abandoning his efforts to grab the serpent which had just tapped him on the nose.

"My name's David. Grandpa's at home, doing magic stuff. It's alright though, he gave me a protective talisman." The boy pointed to a pendant hanging around his neck. "See? Grandpa says I can go wherever I want as long as I'm wearing it."

As far as Gwyndolin could tell, the pendant itself was mundane, but the fragmented ruby it contained held considerable magic. Gwyndolin was glad to see that the child had such a responsible guardian—Gwyn would not have given him such a powerful talisman.

"Very well. I ask thee again, Dost thou require mine aid, David?"

"Oh yeah! You've got to help Ms. Superhero, the gangs are causing trouble near the docks!"

"Despite mine appearance, I am male," Gwyndolin said with practiced patience. "What is a gang?"

David looked embarrassed by his correction and then surprised at his question. "I dunno, they're like, groups of criminals. Shouldn't you know that?"

Gwyndolin pushed away the shame his own ignorance evoked in him. "Who art these lawbreakers, and what felonies dost they commit?"

At this, David became eager to show off his knowledge. "It's the Medusa Syndicate. They're moving in on the Escabedo Cartel's territory and they're shooting up the place!"

"Wouldst it not be best to permit these criminals to fight one another?" Gwyndolin asked, confused. "Art the local guardsmen incapable of punishing such transgressions?"

"Nah, the cops are all paid off," said David dismissively. "Aren't you a superhero? You're supposed to stop people from dying, even the bad guys. Besides, don't you want to fight the Medusa?"

Gwyndolin found it a strange practice to care for the well-being of criminals, but he was hesitant to argue against it when these mortals had built a society more prosperous than his own.

"Why the Medusa in particular?"

"Well… you've got snake legs," said David, suddenly unsure of himself. "I mean, you're a superhero with snake legs and they're villains with a snake theme. That means they're your nemesis."

Gwyndolin was starting to believe adapting to these people's culture would be more difficult than he had imagined, their practices seemed alien to him.

Now that he had received all of the pertinent information he could from the child, Gwyndolin decided to put some thought into his actual request.

Gwyndolin didn't believe he was worthy of bearing the same title as the god called Superman, but no matter his deficiencies, he was still a deity in his own right. There were many powerful beings in this world, but a group of mortal criminals was well within his ability to handle.

Yet in truth… 'Tis not the true reason I consider this folly, thought Gwyndolin, looking into David's hopeful eyes. It had been some time since he had last enjoyed the company of someone so comfortable in his presence. Even the rare individuals who did not disdain him for his grotesque appearance usually either revered him or were intimidated by his status.

This child, who had seen his true form and was only interested in him due to an earnest faith in these 'superheroes'—Gwyndolin did not think he could bear to disappoint the hope in those eyes.

Gwyndolin released a sigh and gathered his resolve—at this point, his choice was already made and there was no point in dithering while mortals were being harmed.

"Very well, David. Thou shall have mine assistance." Hopefully, he would not regret it.

"Awesome! C'mon, I'll lead you there." The boy turned around, prepared to run to the docks before he let out a yelp as one of Gwyndolin's serpents lifted him from the ground.

"Hey! What're you doing?" said David, pouting. "You're not going to tell me to go home, are you? I'll be fine! I've got Grandpa's talisman."

That was in fact not the reason Gwyndolin had stopped the boy, his pendant would indeed offer sufficient protection, so he didn't see any problem with allowing the boy to see combat.

"Thou misunderstand mine intentions, David. I am in possession of the ability to teleport. All I need is for thou to focus on the location of these lawbreakers."

"Oh… sounds good," David said sheepishly.

After a moment, Gwyndolin extracted the location from the child's mind, took hold of his catalyst, and began channeling his magic.

Gwnydolin had one thought in his head as he felt the spell take hold, instantly transporting him across the city while he carried a mortal child aloft.

I hope I prove mineself worthy of being these mortal's superhero. This city deserves a fate more kind than Anor Londo's.