《Clockwork Ranger》 Intro The air was heavy, pulsing with the weight of unspoken tension. Connor Hayes stood at the edge of a shattered battlefield, his breath coming in slow, measured draws. Around him, the broken remnants of his enemies lay scattered¡ªtwisted constructs of steel and flesh, their lifeless eyes staring at nothing. At his feet, the last of them¡ªa towering figure clad in spiked armor¡ªgave a final, rattling gasp. Its hand, if you could call it that, clawed at Connor¡¯s ankle in one last desperate bid. Connor didn¡¯t flinch. The soft click of a mechanism echoed as he twisted the dial on the device strapped to his wrist. The construct froze, its form flickering like a bad projection, then shattered into fine, metallic dust. Connor exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly as the ticking in his head quieted. He looked down at his hands¡ªcalloused, steady, and covered in streaks of oil and blood. "Another one," he muttered, his voice low and hoarse. The words weren¡¯t for anyone in particular. Behind him, the sky churned, a roiling mass of red and black. The distant hum of something immense and ancient filled the air, vibrating through his bones. It had been growing louder for days now, an ever-present reminder of the thing he couldn¡¯t outrun. ¡°The clock¡¯s almost wound down, isn¡¯t it?¡± The voice came from the shadows, lilting and sharp. Rachel stepped forward, her twin sabers resting against her shoulders, their edges glinting faintly in the dim light. She looked as tired as he felt, her once-pristine armor marred by cracks and scorches. Connor didn¡¯t answer. She sighed, planting one blade into the dirt as she leaned against it. ¡°You could say something, you know. Pretend you¡¯re not a walking mystery for five minutes.¡± He glanced at her, the corner of his mouth twitching in something that might have been a smile. ¡°We¡¯re out of time for small talk, Rachel.¡±Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°And whose fault is that?¡± she shot back. ¡°You¡¯re the one who decided to tamper with forces none of us understand.¡± Connor didn¡¯t argue. He couldn¡¯t. The truth was, he had tampered with forces he didn¡¯t understand¡ªforces that had brought him here, to a world that seemed to rewrite its own rules with every passing day. A world where the ticking of a clock was as much a weapon as a warning. ¡°Where¡¯s Evie?¡± he asked, his voice cutting through the tension. Rachel shrugged, though the movement was stiff. ¡°She¡¯s doing¡­whatever it is she does with those cards of hers. Probably trying to summon another shadow thing to ¡®buy us time.¡¯¡± Her tone was mocking, but there was no real malice in it. Connor nodded, his gaze shifting to the horizon. In the distance, the outline of a city loomed¡ªa labyrinth of jagged spires and glowing runes that pulsed in rhythm with the ticking in his head. He could feel it calling to him, tugging at his very being. ¡°Liam¡¯s holding the line at the pass,¡± Rachel added, her tone softening. ¡°He said he¡¯ll give us as long as he can.¡± Connor¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°It won¡¯t be enough.¡± ¡°It never is.¡± For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence was filled with the faint hum of distant machinery, the eerie soundtrack of this broken world. Rachel broke it with a bitter laugh. ¡°You know, I used to think I was the center of the universe. Back home, everything felt so¡­small. So manageable.¡± She gestured vaguely at the chaos around them. ¡°Now? Look at this. Nothing makes sense. And you¡ª¡± She stopped, her gaze locking onto him. ¡°You act like it does.¡± Connor¡¯s eyes darkened, his hand brushing over the intricate device on his wrist. The clockwork mechanisms clicked faintly in response, as if alive. ¡°I don¡¯t understand it,¡± he admitted quietly. ¡°Not fully.¡± ¡°Then why keep pushing?¡± He didn¡¯t answer right away. Instead, he turned and began walking toward the city, the gears on his wrist spinning faster as if sensing the path ahead. Over his shoulder, he finally replied. ¡°Because if I stop, none of this matters.¡± Rachel cursed under her breath but followed him, her sabers held tightly in her hands. Ahead of them, the sky cracked open, spilling light and shadow in equal measure. The city¡¯s gates loomed closer, their runes glowing brighter, pulsing faster. The ticking in Connor¡¯s head grew louder, a deafening crescendo that drowned out everything else. The clock was winding down. And so was he. Chapter One: Love is a Four-Letter Word I¡¯m not saying I hate my life, but if I ever woke up to find a reset button, I¡¯d hit it so fast I might sprain my thumb. Take this morning, for example. ¡°Connor, are you seriously still in bed?¡± That¡¯s Bree¡ªmy girlfriend. The love of my life, if love means the persistent feeling that you¡¯ve made a horrible mistake. She stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, her face already locked into her signature scowl. Her dark hair was tied back in one of those messy buns that Instagram influencers make look cute, but on her, it just screamed I¡¯m too angry to brush my hair. ¡°Yeah, good morning to you, too,¡± I mumbled, rolling over and pretending I didn¡¯t hear her. ¡°Don¡¯t give me that,¡± she snapped, marching into the room. ¡°You said you¡¯d take the trash out last night, and it¡¯s still sitting there. Do you enjoy making me look like the bad guy all the time?¡± I wanted to point out that no one in the history of bad guys had ever looked at a bag of garbage and gone, This is my moment, but I bit my tongue. Bree had a way of turning every argument into a long, drawn-out battle, and frankly, I wasn¡¯t awake enough for that yet. ¡°Sorry,¡± I said instead, dragging myself out of bed. My voice was flat, even to me, but Bree didn¡¯t seem to notice. Or maybe she just didn¡¯t care. Breakfast was the usual symphony of passive-aggressive commentary. ¡°Do you have to slurp your coffee like that?¡± ¡°You know, normal people put their dirty dishes in the sink right away.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t forget to drop off my dry cleaning on your way to work. Or are you going to ¡®forget¡¯ like last time?¡± I stared at her across the table, watching her poke at her yogurt like it had personally offended her. Once, I¡¯d thought she was beautiful. That was before I realized her favorite hobby was making me feel like I was one wrong move away from becoming a crime scene. ¡°Sure, Bree,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll get right on that.¡± She didn¡¯t even look up, just waved her spoon dismissively. ¡°You better.¡± Work was the only time I could breathe. Sure, delivering packages isn¡¯t glamorous. It¡¯s repetitive, tiring, and most of the time, people treat you like you¡¯re part of the box you¡¯re holding. But at least it was quiet. No one yelling. No one criticizing every little thing I did. Just me, my van, and a radio station that played the same ten songs on repeat. That day, the route was nothing special¡ªjust a string of suburban neighborhoods that all looked like someone copy-pasted them from a developer¡¯s catalog. I dropped off packages, dodged a yappy Chihuahua, and tried not to think too hard about the fact that I¡¯d be going home to Bree later. ¡°Another thrilling day in the life of Connor Hayes,¡± I muttered, pulling into a gas station to refuel. I grabbed a coffee from the convenience store¡ªblack, bitter, and just this side of drinkable. As I leaned against the van, sipping the lukewarm sludge, my phone buzzed. It was Bree. Bree: Don¡¯t forget to stop by my mom¡¯s and pick up the dining set she wants us to sell. And hurry up this time. Last time you took forever. I stared at the screen, the words blurring as my irritation flared. She didn¡¯t even bother to say please. It was always commands, always expectations. And God forbid I didn¡¯t jump to meet them. Why am I still with her? The thought came unbidden, sharp and unwelcome. I shoved it down, shoving the phone back in my pocket with it. By the time my shift ended, I was ready to collapse. My back ached from lifting boxes all day, and my brain felt like it had been wrung out and left to dry. But instead of heading home, I found myself driving to my parents¡¯ house. Mom had called earlier, asking if I could help clean out the attic. I didn¡¯t tell Bree. She¡¯d just complain that I was wasting time when I ¡°could be doing something productive.¡± The house looked the same as always¡ªfaded paint, a slightly overgrown lawn, and the faint smell of lemon cleaner that somehow never went away. ¡°Connor, sweetie! You¡¯re here!¡± Mom greeted me at the door, pulling me into a hug that smelled like flour and fabric softener. ¡°Hey, Mom,¡± I said, forcing a smile. She led me upstairs to the attic, chattering about which boxes needed sorting and which ones could go to Goodwill. I let her talk, nodding at the right moments. It was easier than telling her how much I wanted to crawl under a rock and stay there. The attic was a time capsule of forgotten junk. Old photo albums, boxes of Christmas decorations, a broken lamp Dad swore he¡¯d fix twenty years ago. I sneezed as dust puffed up from a stack of newspapers.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°Sure, Mom,¡± I muttered under my breath, shoving aside a stack of National Geographics from the 90s. ¡°I¡¯d love to spend my evening inhaling asbestos and questioning my life choices.¡± That¡¯s when I saw it. A chest. Small, battered, and out of place among the piles of mundane clutter. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± I muttered, prying it open. Inside was a pocket watch. It was small, tarnished, and covered in strange engravings. Symbols that didn¡¯t look like any language I¡¯d ever seen. I picked it up, turning it over in my hands. The metal was cold, almost unnaturally so, and when I brushed my thumb over the winding mechanism, it clicked. The air shifted. A chill ran down my spine, and the attic suddenly felt¡­wrong. Too quiet. Too still. I dropped the watch, stumbling back as it hit the floor with a sharp clink. ¡°Connor? You okay?¡± Mom¡¯s voice floated up the stairs. ¡°Yeah!¡± I called back, though my heart was pounding. I stared at the watch, lying motionless on the floor. It looked harmless now. Innocent. But it wasn¡¯t. I knew it wasn¡¯t. I should¡¯ve left it there. Walked away. Pretended I¡¯d never seen it. Instead, I slipped it into my pocket and went back downstairs, trying to shake the uneasy feeling that I¡¯d just made a huge mistake. Just before I left, I noticed something. Tucked under the edge of the chest¡¯s lid, almost hidden by dust and debris, was a crumpled scrap of paper. I hesitated for a moment¡ªwhy bother reading some old note, especially when I had no idea who wrote it? But something about it tugged at me. I unfolded the yellowed paper, its edges fragile, as if it had been handled too many times over the years. The handwriting was hurried but neat, ink slightly faded but legible. ¡°The watch is more than it seems. It binds to the one who winds it. Trust it at your own peril. The clock will not forgive your mistakes.¡± I blinked, reading the words again. My great-grandfather¡¯s handwriting, unmistakable even after all these years. A man who died before I could even remember his voice, yet his warning was here, in front of me, as clear as day. What the hell does this mean? I tucked the paper back into the chest, feeling a coldness spread through me. I should¡¯ve left it there, in that dusty attic, but something told me I wouldn¡¯t be able to. The drive home was quiet. The kind of quiet that wasn¡¯t peaceful, but heavy¡ªlike the world was holding its breath. I kept replaying the note in my mind, the scratchy ink of my great-grandfather¡¯s warning etched behind my eyelids. ¡°The clock will not forgive your mistakes.¡± What the hell did that mean? And why did it feel like those words were aimed at me, specifically? I gripped the steering wheel tighter, feeling the cold press of the watch through my jeans pocket. It hadn¡¯t warmed, even after being in my hand for so long. It was just¡­there, like a weight I couldn¡¯t shake. When I opened the door to the apartment, I barely had time to take a breath before Bree¡¯s voice hit me like a freight train. ¡°Where the hell have you been?¡± she snapped, standing in the kitchen with a dishtowel in one hand and a glass in the other. Her face was flushed, either from anger or the wine bottle sitting half-empty on the counter. ¡°Helping my mom,¡± I said, shrugging off my jacket. I didn¡¯t look at her¡ªjust headed straight for the sink to rinse my hands. ¡°You couldn¡¯t text? You couldn¡¯t call?¡± I bit back the urge to tell her I¡¯d already dealt with enough yelling for one day. ¡°I was busy. It slipped my mind.¡± ¡°Of course it did,¡± she shot back, slamming the glass onto the counter hard enough that I thought it might shatter. ¡°Everything slips your mind when it¡¯s something I need. Do you even care how that makes me feel?¡± I dried my hands, keeping my back to her. ¡°I didn¡¯t know I needed to provide hourly updates.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t start with me, Connor,¡± she hissed. ¡°You think you¡¯re so clever, don¡¯t you? Acting like I¡¯m crazy when you¡¯re the one who can¡¯t do the bare minimum.¡± She wasn¡¯t yelling anymore, but her voice was sharp enough to cut. I turned around, meeting her glare with what I hoped was a neutral expression. ¡°What exactly do you want me to say, Bree?¡± ¡°I want you to act like you give a damn!¡± she snapped, throwing the dishtowel onto the counter. ¡°You¡¯re out there, wasting time, doing God knows what, while I¡¯m here trying to keep this place together. But sure, let¡¯s make me the bad guy.¡± It was like a script, one I¡¯d heard a hundred times before. I tuned her out, letting her words blur into white noise as I nodded at all the right moments. But something inside me cracked. It wasn¡¯t one thing¡ªjust a slow build-up of everything. The constant criticism. The way she made me feel like I was never enough. The weight of the watch in my pocket, like a reminder that I didn¡¯t even know what I was carrying anymore. I couldn¡¯t take it. Not tonight. ¡°Yeah, okay,¡± I said, cutting her off mid-sentence. ¡°I¡¯m going to the bathroom.¡± She stared at me, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. ¡°Are you serious? We¡¯re not done¡ª¡± I didn¡¯t wait for her to finish. The bathroom was small, barely big enough for the sink, toilet, and shower crammed into the space. I locked the door behind me, leaning against it as I let out a long, shaky breath. My reflection in the mirror didn¡¯t look like me. My face was pale, my eyes dull, the stubble on my jaw thicker than I realized. ¡°Get it together,¡± I muttered, running cold water over my hands before splashing it onto my face. The watch sat heavy in my pocket. I pulled it out, turning it over in my hands as water dripped from my chin. It was small, but it felt¡­important. Like it shouldn¡¯t exist, but it did anyway. The engravings were strange, looping and curling in ways that didn¡¯t quite make sense. I traced them with my thumb, feeling the grooves beneath my skin. ¡°What are you?¡± I whispered. It was rhetorical, of course. But something about the watch felt¡­alive. Not in a literal sense¡ªthere were no gears clicking, no hands moving¡ªbut in the way it seemed to hum under my fingertips. I turned it over again, finding a small latch I hadn¡¯t noticed before. My thumb hovered over it, hesitation prickling at the back of my mind. The clock will not forgive your mistakes. I should¡¯ve stopped. Should¡¯ve left it alone. But something in me pushed forward, ignoring the warning. The latch clicked open, and the watch unfolded like a blooming flower. The room filled with light¡ªblinding, white, and impossibly bright. I stumbled back, my hands flying up to shield my eyes, but the light wasn¡¯t just around me. It was in me, pouring through my veins, filling every inch of my body with a warmth that bordered on unbearable. My heart pounded, the sound deafening in my ears as the light grew brighter, hotter. I tried to move, to cry out, but my voice was swallowed by the overwhelming hum that seemed to shake the very air. Then, just as quickly as it began, it stopped. The light vanished, leaving me in total darkness. But I wasn¡¯t in the bathroom anymore. The air smelled different¡ªsharp and clean, like rain on stone. A faint breeze brushed against my skin, carrying with it the sound of rustling leaves and distant, echoing chimes. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was the sky¡ªendless and strange, painted in hues of violet and green. And I wasn¡¯t alone. Chapter Two: A Medieval Hangover I woke up with grass in my mouth. Not metaphorical grass. Actual blades of grass, dry and scratchy, pressed against my tongue. I spat it out, gagging, and immediately regretted moving. My whole body ached, like I¡¯d gone ten rounds with a professional wrestler and lost every single one. For a moment, I just lay there, staring up at the sky. It was a deep, endless blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds that drifted lazily across my vision. ¡°Okay,¡± I muttered, my voice hoarse. ¡°Not the bathroom.¡± I sat up slowly, wincing as my muscles protested. The ground beneath me was uneven and cool, the kind of damp earth that clung to your clothes and skin. I blinked, taking in my surroundings, and my stomach did a little flip. I was in a field. Not the kind of manicured park field you see in the city. This was wild and sprawling, stretching out in every direction like something out of a nature documentary. Tall grass rippled in the breeze, dotted with yellow and purple wildflowers. In the distance, a dense forest loomed, its trees impossibly tall and tangled. Beyond that, on the far horizon, I could make out¡­was that a city? A city surrounded by stone walls and topped with spires. ¡°What the fuck¡­¡± I whispered. At first, I thought I was dreaming. That would¡¯ve made the most sense. But my dreams usually involved flying or forgetting to wear pants in public, not waking up in the middle of a medieval screensaver. I pinched myself. It hurt. ¡°Okay,¡± I muttered, running a hand through my hair. ¡°Not a dream. Not Kansas. Definitely not the bathroom.¡± My hands patted over my body instinctively¡ªjeans, sneakers, t-shirt. Same clothes. Same slightly-worn leather belt. Same pocket watch that had been in my hand before everything went white. I pulled it out, holding it up to the sunlight. The engravings still shimmered faintly, the metal still cold to the touch. ¡°You¡¯ve got some explaining to do,¡± I said to it, as if it could answer. The watch, unhelpfully, stayed silent. I shoved it back in my pocket and stood up, brushing dirt and grass off my jeans. My legs felt like jelly, and my head was pounding, but I was otherwise in one piece. The city caught my attention again. From here, it looked like something straight out of a history book. Massive stone walls surrounded it, weathered but sturdy. I could see faint trails of smoke rising from inside, likely from chimneys or cooking fires. I squinted, trying to make out more details. There were banners hanging from the walls, though I couldn¡¯t tell what they depicted from this distance. A few figures moved along the battlements, their shapes small and blurry, but unmistakably human. ¡°Medieval,¡± I said aloud, the word feeling strange in my mouth. I¡¯d always been a history buff¡ªone of the few things I enjoyed back in school¡ªbut this was insane. If this was real, if I was actually here¡­ I felt a strange thrill run through me, mixed with a heavy dose of panic. ¡°Focus, Connor,¡± I said, forcing myself to take a deep breath. ¡°You can freak out later. Right now, you need answers.¡± Answers were unlikely to fall from the sky, which meant I had to get to that city. The walk was brutal. What looked like a quick stroll across the field turned into an hour of trudging through uneven ground, the grass grabbing at my shoes like it didn¡¯t want me to leave. By the time I reached the edge of the forest, my calves were burning, and I was pretty sure I¡¯d sweated through my shirt. The forest itself was no better. The ground was littered with roots and rocks, and every sound made me jump. Birds squawked from the treetops, and somewhere in the distance, I heard something rustling that sounded way too big to be a squirrel.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Please don¡¯t be a bear,¡± I muttered, gripping a sturdy stick I¡¯d picked up along the way. Eventually, the trees thinned out, and the forest spat me onto a narrow dirt road. It wasn¡¯t much¡ªa trail worn down by wagon wheels and boots, lined with the occasional patch of grass. The city was closer now. The walls loomed ahead, massive and imposing, their surface pitted with age. I could hear the faint sounds of life¡ªvoices, the clang of metal, the bray of some animal. When I finally reached the gates, I stopped just short, taking it all in. Two guards stood on either side of the entrance, their armor rough and dented but functional. One carried a pike, the other a sword at his hip, and both looked like they¡¯d seen their fair share of trouble. ¡°Shit,¡± I muttered, realizing I hadn¡¯t thought this far ahead. I didn¡¯t exactly look like I belonged. My jeans and sneakers were going to stick out like a neon sign in a blackout. ¡°Alright, play it cool,¡± I told myself, squaring my shoulders. ¡°You¡¯ve read enough history books. Just¡­don¡¯t do anything stupid.¡± One of the guards noticed me as I approached, his eyes narrowing. He stepped forward, blocking my path with the pike. ¡°Halt,¡± he barked. His voice was deep, commanding, and left no room for argument. ¡°State your business.¡± I froze, scrambling to come up with something that didn¡¯t sound completely insane. ¡°I¡¯m¡­uh¡­a traveler,¡± I said, the words sounding weak even to me. ¡°Just looking to rest and¡­resupply?¡± The guard¡¯s eyes swept over me, taking in my clothes with a suspicious frown. ¡°You¡¯re dressed strangely.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said quickly, my mind racing. ¡°I, uh¡­lost my pack. Bandits.¡± ¡°Bandits?¡± ¡°In the woods,¡± I added, pointing vaguely behind me. ¡°They jumped me. Took everything except the clothes on my back.¡± The guard didn¡¯t look convinced. ¡°Convenient story,¡± he said, tightening his grip on the pike. ¡°It¡¯s the truth,¡± I shot back, a little too defensively. The second guard, shorter but no less intimidating, stepped forward. ¡°You don¡¯t look like a farmer or a merchant. What are you?¡± ¡°I¡¯m just passing through,¡± I said, trying to keep my tone even. ¡°I don¡¯t want any trouble.¡± The two guards exchanged a glance, and I felt my stomach twist. This was going to be harder than I thought. The taller guard¡ªBeard Guy, as I¡¯d started calling him in my head¡ªgave me a long, hard stare, the kind that made my skin crawl. His eyes flicked to my shoes, then back up to my face. ¡°What kind of traveler doesn¡¯t carry supplies?¡± he asked, his tone flat but edged with suspicion. ¡°An unlucky one?¡± I offered weakly, trying to muster a grin. It wasn¡¯t my best moment, but I figured humor was better than outright panic. The shorter guard snorted, though it didn¡¯t sound particularly friendly. ¡°You¡¯re not a merchant, not a farmer, and you¡¯ve got no pack or coin. How exactly do you plan to resupply, traveler?¡± I swallowed hard, my mind scrambling for an answer. ¡°I was¡­hoping to find work,¡± I said finally. ¡°You know, earn some money, buy what I need.¡± Beard Guy raised an eyebrow. ¡°Work, huh? Doing what?¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± Shit. What did people do in the medieval period? Blacksmith? Carpenter? Knight? No, definitely not knight. ¡°Manual labor,¡± I said quickly. ¡°I¡¯m good with my hands.¡± The shorter guard let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. ¡°Good with your hands, eh? That¡¯s what the last thief said before we threw him in the stocks.¡± ¡°Not a thief!¡± I said, holding up my hands defensively. ¡°Seriously, I just need a place to rest. You can search me if you want¡ªI don¡¯t even have anything worth stealing.¡± The two guards exchanged another look, and I felt my heart sink. This was it. They were going to arrest me, or worse, throw me out entirely. And then what? Sleep in the forest and hope I didn¡¯t get eaten by a wolf? ¡°Hold,¡± Beard Guy said, his tone softening slightly. ¡°What¡¯s that accent of yours? You don¡¯t sound local.¡± Crap. I hadn¡¯t even thought about that. ¡°Uh¡­far north,¡± I said, waving my hand vaguely in the air. ¡°Really far north. Tiny village. You¡¯ve probably never heard of it.¡± He narrowed his eyes, but before he could press further, a loud creak echoed from the gates. A cart pulled by two oxen rumbled through, driven by a man wearing a wide-brimmed hat. Behind him, a group of men and women walked alongside, their clothes simple and rough, carrying sacks and baskets. Farmers, by the look of them. I took a breath, an idea forming. It wasn¡¯t great, but it was better than standing here like an idiot. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± I said, my tone shifting to something more earnest. ¡°I don¡¯t belong here. I¡¯m not from around these parts, and I¡¯ve had a really shitty few days. But I¡¯m not a threat. I just need a chance.¡± Beard Guy¡¯s frown deepened, but he didn¡¯t say anything. ¡°Look,¡± I added, gesturing toward the farmers entering the city. ¡°Put me with them. I¡¯ll work. I¡¯ll earn my keep. Just give me a chance.¡± The shorter guard snorted again, but this time it almost sounded amused. ¡°Bold, I¡¯ll give you that.¡± Beard Guy tilted his head, studying me for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he lowered his pike. ¡°If you cause any trouble,¡± he said, his voice low and firm, ¡°I¡¯ll see to it personally that you regret it. Understand?¡± I nodded quickly, relief washing over me. ¡°Crystal clear. No trouble. Just work.¡± He stepped aside, motioning me through the gate. ¡°Welcome to Thallmarch,¡± he said. The city smelled like smoke, mud, and unwashed bodies. The streets were narrow, packed with people going about their business. Merchants shouted from stalls piled high with vegetables, cloth, and trinkets. Children darted between carts, their laughter cutting through the low hum of conversation and bartering. Somewhere nearby, a blacksmith hammered away, the rhythmic clang of metal ringing in the air. It was chaos, but it was¡­alive. I stood just inside the gate, trying to take it all in. This wasn¡¯t some carefully curated tourist attraction. This was real. The grime, the noise, the sheer weight of life¡ªit was overwhelming and fascinating all at once. ¡°Move along,¡± the shorter guard barked from behind me, giving me a shove. ¡°Right. Sorry,¡± I muttered, stumbling forward. I didn¡¯t have a plan. I didn¡¯t have money, or food, or any idea where to start. But I was here, in a medieval city, and that was more than I¡¯d had five minutes ago. As I wandered deeper into the streets, a strange mix of emotions churned in my chest. Fear, definitely. I was in way over my head, and every unfamiliar face felt like a potential threat. But there was something else, too. Something lighter. Excitement. For the first time in years, I wasn¡¯t bored. Chapter Three: The Stranger in the Tavern The streets of Thallmarch were a swirling mix of chaos and wonder. Everywhere I looked, there was something that didn¡¯t belong in the world I¡¯d left behind¡ªor maybe it was me who didn¡¯t belong here. Cobblestone roads stretched out in every direction, uneven and worn from countless footsteps and wagon wheels. Stalls lined the streets, their wooden frames draped with cloth in every color imaginable. The merchants shouted over each other, their voices rising in a cacophony that filled the air. ¡°Fresh bread! Still warm!¡± ¡°Spices from the Eastern Isles!¡± ¡°Rabbit pelts! Cheap!¡± It smelled like wood smoke, roasted meat, and an undertone of sweat that wasn¡¯t entirely pleasant. Still, I couldn¡¯t help but be fascinated. This wasn¡¯t a museum or a movie set. This was real. A man passed me with a wheelbarrow full of apples, his clothes patched and stained. Two women stood by a stall, haggling over a bolt of fabric while a scruffy dog weaved through the crowd, sniffing for scraps. Holy shit, I thought, running a hand through my hair. I¡¯m actually in the past. This is insane. For a moment, I forgot how out of place I looked. My jeans and sneakers were definitely getting some side-eyes, but most people were too busy with their own lives to pay much attention. The tavern caught my eye the second I rounded the corner. Its sign was carved into a thick slab of wood, hanging by chains above the door. The image of a foaming mug was painted in black, the words The Drunken Mare etched beneath it. A warm, golden light spilled from the windows, and the faint sound of laughter and clinking glasses drifted into the street. My stomach growled, and my throat felt parched from the walk. Alright, I thought, adjusting my grip on the stick I¡¯d been using as a makeshift walking staff. Let¡¯s see if medieval ale is as good as they say. The inside of the tavern was everything I¡¯d imagined¡ªand more. The room was crowded, the air thick with the smell of spilled beer, roasted meat, and something faintly herbal I couldn¡¯t place. Wooden tables filled the space, most of them occupied by groups of men and women laughing, drinking, or arguing loudly. A massive fireplace roared at one end of the room, its heat radiating across the floorboards. Above it hung a wild assortment of objects: antlers, rusted swords, and even a cracked shield. Behind the bar stood a man with a thick beard and arms like tree trunks. He was wiping a mug with a rag that didn¡¯t look entirely clean, his eyes flicking to the door as I entered. I walked up to the bar, trying not to look as out of place as I felt. ¡°One ale, please,¡± I said, flashing what I hoped was a friendly smile. The bartender raised an eyebrow, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. ¡°You¡¯ve got coin, stranger?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, pulling a twenty-dollar bill from my pocket and sliding it across the bar. He stared at it like I¡¯d just handed him a dead rat. ¡°What the hell¡¯s this?¡± ¡°It¡¯s money,¡± I said, feeling my face flush. ¡°Uh¡­paper money.¡± The bartender snorted, holding it up to the light like it might reveal some hidden treasure. ¡°You think we take scraps of parchment for payment?¡± I opened my mouth to argue, then realized how stupid I sounded. Of course, they didn¡¯t take dollars. This was the past. ¡°Right,¡± I muttered, grabbing the bill and shoving it back into my pocket. ¡°Never mind.¡± ¡°Thought so,¡± the bartender grunted, turning his attention to someone else. I stood there, feeling like an idiot. My stomach growled again, louder this time, and I considered just walking out and pretending this hadn¡¯t happened. ¡°Rough day?¡± a voice said from behind me. I turned to see a man in armor standing a few feet away. Not the shiny, heroic kind you see in movies, but dented, well-worn steel that looked like it had seen its share of battles. He wasn¡¯t much taller than me, but his presence was¡­commanding. He had short-cropped hair, dark eyes, and a faint scar running down his jaw. There was an air of confidence about him, like he knew he could handle whatever the world threw at him. ¡°You could say that,¡± I replied, forcing a weak laugh. The knight tilted his head, studying me. ¡°You¡¯re not from around here, are you?¡± ¡°Not exactly,¡± I said carefully. ¡°Thought so. Your clothes, your accent¡ªthey¡¯re¡­different.¡± He smiled faintly, as if amused by the understatement. ¡°First ale¡¯s on me, stranger.¡± Before I could protest, he stepped up to the bar and slapped a coin onto the counter. The bartender grunted and filled a mug with frothy, amber liquid, sliding it across the counter to me.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said, taking the mug and raising it slightly in his direction. ¡°Don¡¯t mention it.¡± We found a table near the fireplace, away from the loudest groups, and the knight sat across from me, his gauntlets resting on the table. ¡°What do I call you?¡± he asked, taking a sip from his own mug. ¡°Connor,¡± I said. ¡°Connor Hayes.¡± ¡°Connor Hayes,¡± he repeated, the words rolling off his tongue awkwardly. ¡°Unusual name.¡± ¡°Yeah, well, it¡¯s an unusual day,¡± I said, trying to sound casual. The knight chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°You¡¯re a strange one, Connor. Most travelers don¡¯t walk into a tavern with no coin and no plan.¡± ¡°Guess I¡¯m not most travelers,¡± I said, taking a sip of the ale. It was¡­strong. Bitter, with a faintly sweet aftertaste that lingered on my tongue. Not bad, but definitely not what I was used to. ¡°You¡¯ve got the look of someone who¡¯s lost,¡± the knight said, leaning back in his chair. ¡°And I don¡¯t just mean directions.¡± For a moment, I didn¡¯t know how to respond. He wasn¡¯t wrong¡ªI was lost in every possible sense of the word. ¡°Let¡¯s just say I¡¯m far from home,¡± I said finally. The knight nodded, as if that explained everything. ¡°Well, Connor Hayes, far from home, you¡¯ve got my curiosity. Maybe even my help, if you play your cards right.¡± I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Help with what?¡± He grinned, a flash of white teeth against his tanned skin. ¡°Whatever it is you¡¯re looking for.¡± I wasn¡¯t sure if I should feel relieved or suspicious. But for now, the ale was cold, the fire was warm, and for the first time since I woke up in that field, I didn¡¯t feel completely alone. The knight set his mug down with a soft clink, leaning forward slightly. The firelight cast flickering shadows across his scarred face, making him seem both approachable and dangerous at once. ¡°Name¡¯s Godric,¡± he said, his voice even, almost casual. ¡°Godric of Weldrake.¡± I nodded, repeating it in my head to make sure I didn¡¯t forget. ¡°Well, thanks for the ale, Godric. I owe you one.¡± He waved a hand dismissively. ¡°Ale¡¯s cheap. Information, now that¡¯s expensive.¡± The hint of a grin tugged at his lips, but his eyes were sharp, assessing me like a merchant appraising goods. He wasn¡¯t just being friendly¡ªhe wanted something. I took another sip of my ale, trying to buy time. My mind was racing, cataloging everything I¡¯d read about knights. Not the shiny, Hollywood knights with pristine armor and chivalrous speeches, but real ones¡ªmercenaries, landowners, enforcers of the medieval pecking order. They weren¡¯t necessarily good or noble, and from what I¡¯d gathered, they weren¡¯t above bending the rules to suit their needs. ¡°What kind of information?¡± I asked carefully, meeting his gaze. He tilted his head, considering me. ¡°For starters, where you¡¯re from.¡± ¡°Far away,¡± I said vaguely, hoping he wouldn¡¯t press. He chuckled, a low, almost knowing sound. ¡°Aye, that much is clear. That accent of yours¡ªI¡¯ve heard traders from the Low Countries speak more like us than you do.¡± ¡°Guess I¡¯m just special,¡± I said, forcing a grin. ¡°Special¡¯s one word for it,¡± he said, sitting back in his chair. The wooden frame creaked under the weight of his armor, which I noticed wasn¡¯t quite as complete as it seemed from a distance. His chestplate was solid, but his arms were protected only by a mail hauberk, and his gloves looked more like sturdy leather than steel. Practical, not flashy. ¡°Let me guess,¡± he continued. ¡°A bastard son of some lord? Ran away to seek your fortune?¡± The assumption caught me off guard, but I realized it made sense from his perspective. Someone like me¡ªcleaner than a serf but rougher than a noble¡ªdidn¡¯t just walk into Thallmarch without raising questions. ¡°Not exactly,¡± I said, choosing my words carefully. ¡°Let¡¯s just say things at home weren¡¯t working out.¡± He nodded slowly, as if that answer satisfied him. ¡°Fair enough. I¡¯ve known many men who left home chasing something better. Few of them found it.¡± I didn¡¯t know how to respond to that, so I stayed quiet, letting the hum of the tavern fill the space between us. As I glanced around the room, I noticed the other patrons were giving Godric a wide berth. No one was openly avoiding him, but there was a clear deference in how they moved, keeping their distance without making it obvious. ¡°You¡¯re someone important,¡± I said, more as an observation than a question. He smirked, taking a slow sip of his ale. ¡°Important enough.¡± ¡°Knight?¡± I guessed. ¡°Aye,¡± he said, though there was no pride in the word, just matter-of-fact acknowledgment. ¡°Sworn to Lord Eadric of Weldrake.¡± That sounded familiar¡ªor at least plausible. If memory served, most knights in this era were bound to a lord or baron, serving as both enforcers and warriors. They weren¡¯t the solitary adventurers pop culture made them out to be. ¡°So, what¡¯s a knight like you doing in a place like this?¡± I asked, gesturing to the tavern. Godric snorted. ¡°The same as anyone else. Eating, drinking, waiting for orders that¡¯ll likely get me killed.¡± He said it so plainly, like the prospect of death was just another part of the job. ¡°Must be a hell of a career,¡± I said, raising an eyebrow. His grin widened, though it didn¡¯t reach his eyes. ¡°Better than tilling fields or shoveling muck for the rest of my days.¡± I couldn¡¯t argue with that. The medieval world wasn¡¯t exactly overflowing with career opportunities. You were born into your role, and for most people, that meant hard, back-breaking labor from sunrise to sunset. Still, I couldn¡¯t help but feel like there was more to his story. ¡°You¡¯ve got the look of a man with questions,¡± Godric said, interrupting my thoughts. ¡°Is it that obvious?¡± He chuckled. ¡°Aye. You¡¯ve been staring at me like a monk eyeing forbidden wine. What is it?¡± I hesitated, debating how much to say. But if I was going to survive in this world¡ªwhatever it was¡ªI needed allies. And Godric seemed like a good place to start. ¡°Alright,¡± I said, leaning in slightly. ¡°Let¡¯s say¡­hypothetically¡­that I¡¯ve never been to a place like this before. How does a guy like me avoid making a complete ass of himself?¡± Godric¡¯s grin returned, broader this time. ¡°You¡¯ve already failed step one, lad. Walking into a tavern without coin is a surefire way to look like a fool.¡± ¡°Noted,¡± I said dryly. ¡°Step two,¡± he continued, ¡°keep your head down. Don¡¯t stare at the lords or the ladies, and for God¡¯s sake, don¡¯t mouth off to the guards. They¡¯re more likely to beat you senseless than listen to your excuses.¡± ¡°Friendly place,¡± I muttered. He shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s the way of things. But if you¡¯re smart¡ªand lucky¡ªyou¡¯ll find work soon enough. Tradesman, scribe, even a farmhand if you¡¯re desperate.¡± I nodded, filing that information away. ¡°And what about you? What¡¯s next for Godric of Weldrake?¡± His expression darkened slightly, the playful edge fading. ¡°Whatever my lord commands.¡± The weight in his voice was impossible to miss. Being a knight wasn¡¯t about glory or freedom¡ªit was about duty. And judging by the look in his eyes, that duty was wearing on him. The conversation drifted after that, touching on mundane topics¡ªweather, local gossip, the quality of the ale (mediocre, according to Godric). But underneath it all, I could feel the unspoken tension. Godric wasn¡¯t just making small talk. He was studying me, trying to piece together the puzzle of who I was and why I was here. And I couldn¡¯t blame him. If our roles were reversed, I¡¯d be doing the same. As the night wore on, the tavern grew louder, the fire burned lower, and my mug of ale sat mostly untouched. My mind was spinning with questions, doubts, and the nagging feeling that this was only the beginning. Chapter Four : Rachel Turner Rachel Turner
Mondays are the worst. It¡¯s not even up for debate. Mondays are the soggy crisps at the bottom of the bag, the bit of tea that sloshes out of the mug onto your desk, and the moment you realize your umbrella is still at home right as the rain starts. Today was a particularly Monday-ish Monday. The office was a zoo from the second I walked in. Phones ringing nonstop, patients sighing loudly because their 9:30 appointment didn¡¯t start at 9:29, and Gemma having a meltdown over printer toner. ¡°Rachel, the printer¡¯s out again!¡± she called, waving a stack of half-printed forms like a white flag of surrender. ¡°It¡¯s not out,¡± I said without looking up from my desk. ¡°It just hates you. Try being nice to it.¡± She groaned and stomped off, muttering something about how I was no help at all. She wasn¡¯t wrong, but I didn¡¯t care. Mondays demanded a certain level of indifference to survive, and I wasn¡¯t about to blow all my energy fixing a bloody printer. By the time the clock hit five, I was practically sprinting for the door. I didn¡¯t even bother saying goodbye to Gemma, who was still wrestling with the printer like it was a particularly stubborn crocodile. Outside, London was its usual self¡ªgrey, busy, and slightly damp. The kind of weather that made you wonder why umbrellas weren¡¯t just surgically attached at birth. I pulled my coat tighter and started walking, weaving through the after-work crowd with the practiced ease of someone who¡¯d been doing this dance for years. My destination? The Green Dragon, a little pub tucked away down a side street that most tourists couldn¡¯t find if you handed them a map and a compass. ¡°Rachel!¡± The shout came from the corner as soon as I stepped inside, and I spotted Emma waving at me like a lunatic. She was already halfway through a pint, her dark curls a frizzy halo around her face. ¡°Hey,¡± I said, sliding into the seat across from her. ¡°You¡¯re late,¡± she said, narrowing her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m always late,¡± I shot back, peeling off my coat. ¡°You know this. You¡¯ve accepted this about me. Now shut up and tell me what we¡¯re drinking.¡± Emma grinned, raising her glass. ¡°Lager for me, gin and tonic for you. I ordered it ten minutes ago because I¡¯m a saint.¡± ¡°You¡¯re insufferable,¡± I muttered, but I couldn¡¯t help smiling. The pub was warm and cozy, the low hum of conversation blending with the faint crackle of a fire in the corner. It smelled like spilled beer and fried food, and honestly, it was perfect. ¡°So,¡± Emma said, leaning forward. ¡°How was work? Did Gemma survive the day?¡± ¡°Barely,¡± I said, taking a sip of my drink. ¡°She and the printer are locked in a feud that will probably outlast us all. I¡¯m thinking of selling tickets.¡± Emma laughed, shaking her head. ¡°You¡¯re terrible.¡± ¡°Accurate,¡± I said, raising my glass in mock agreement. For the next hour, we talked about everything and nothing. Work drama, terrible Tinder dates, that one time Emma got lost trying to find the Natural History Museum and ended up in someone¡¯s private garden. But as much as I loved these nights, there was always a part of me that felt¡­restless. Like I was going through the motions of a life that didn¡¯t quite fit. At one point, Emma paused mid-story to take another sip of her pint, and I found myself staring at the scarred wood of the table, my fingers tracing the edges of an old cigarette burn. ¡°You alright?¡± she asked, tilting her head.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said quickly. Too quickly. Emma raised an eyebrow. ¡°That convincing, huh? What¡¯s going on, Rach?¡± I hesitated, trying to put it into words. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I just¡­feel stuck, you know?¡± ¡°Stuck how?¡± ¡°Like¡­¡± I gestured vaguely, searching for the right analogy. ¡°Like I¡¯m on a treadmill, but someone¡¯s replaced the scenery with a loop of Gemma complaining about toner and patients moaning about fillings.¡± Emma snorted. ¡°That bad, huh?¡± ¡°Worse,¡± I said, draining the last of my drink. She frowned, her teasing tone fading. ¡°Have you thought about, I don¡¯t know, trying something new? A new job, a new hobby, something that doesn¡¯t involve Gemma?¡± ¡°All the time,¡± I admitted. ¡°But it¡¯s not that simple. Jobs don¡¯t grow on trees, and hobbies cost money. Besides, what would I even do? Take up knitting? Join a cult? Move to the countryside and start a llama farm?¡± Emma grinned. ¡°I vote llama farm. You could sell their wool to Gemma so she can knit herself a life.¡± I laughed, shaking my head. ¡°You¡¯re ridiculous.¡± ¡°And you¡¯re overthinking,¡± she said, nudging my arm. ¡°You¡¯ve got time, Rach. Life doesn¡¯t have to be figured out by five o¡¯clock on a Monday.¡± I wanted to believe her. I really did. But as the night wore on and the pub grew louder, that nagging sense of restlessness refused to let go. We were three drinks in when Emma leaned back in her chair, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. ¡°You know,¡± she began, dragging out the words, ¡°I¡¯ve got an idea.¡± I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Should I be concerned?¡± ¡°Always,¡± she said, her grin widening. ¡°But seriously, hear me out. There¡¯s this new exhibit at the British Museum¡ªopened today. It¡¯s all old weapons and armor. I read about it this morning. Thought it might be up your alley.¡± ¡°An exhibit?¡± I repeated, skeptical. ¡°Emma, it¡¯s nearly nine. Do museums even stay open this late?¡± ¡°This one does,¡± she said, wagging a finger. ¡°It¡¯s some special late-night thing for the opening week. They¡¯re calling it¡­uh¡­¡± She snapped her fingers, trying to remember. ¡°Knights and Swords? No, wait¡ªBlades of History. That¡¯s it.¡± I snorted. ¡°Blades of History? Sounds like something from a bad action movie.¡± ¡°Maybe, but come on. You used to be into this stuff,¡± she said, her tone softening. ¡°When¡¯s the last time you actually got excited about something?¡± I hesitated, caught off guard by the question. The truth was, I couldn¡¯t remember. Fencing used to be my whole world, but now it was just a set of dusty sabers on my wall. ¡°Alright,¡± I said finally, draining the last of my gin and tonic. ¡°Let¡¯s do it. But if it¡¯s just a bunch of rusty daggers and broken shields, you owe me a pint.¡± Emma laughed, slapping the table. ¡°Deal. Let¡¯s go.¡± The British Museum was stunning at night. The grand facade was bathed in soft yellow light, and the usual tourist crowds were replaced by a quieter, more subdued atmosphere. Inside, the exhibit was tucked away in a corner of the museum, separated from the main halls by heavy velvet ropes and a sign that read: Blades of History ¨C Unearthed and Unveiled. ¡°Unearthed and unveiled,¡± I muttered as we entered. ¡°They¡¯re really leaning into the drama, huh?¡± Emma smirked. ¡°You love it.¡± The exhibit itself was¡­impressive. Rows of glass cases lined the walls, each one displaying a carefully curated piece of history. Swords, spears, and shields, some gleaming with careful restoration, others darkened with the patina of age. Plaques detailed the origins of each weapon, the battles they¡¯d seen, the hands that had wielded them. It was the kind of thing I would¡¯ve devoured years ago, back when I still dreamed about making history instead of filing dental records. One display caught my eye¡ªa rapier mounted on a velvet backdrop, its blade slim and elegant, its hilt intricately wrought with swirling designs. But it wasn¡¯t the craftsmanship that drew me in. It was the runes etched into the blade, faint but unmistakable. ¡°Look at this,¡± I said, motioning for Emma to join me. She leaned in, squinting at the plaque. ¡°¡®Seventeenth-century rapier, discovered in a French chateau. Believed to have been ceremonial due to the runic inscriptions along the blade.¡¯¡± ¡°Runic?¡± I repeated, tilting my head. ¡°That doesn¡¯t make sense. Rapiers aren¡¯t exactly Viking weapons.¡± ¡°Maybe it¡¯s a mix?¡± Emma offered. ¡°You know, like¡­a really weird collaboration?¡± I chuckled, shaking my head. ¡°Sure. The world¡¯s first fusion fencer-slash-sorcerer. Makes total sense.¡± But as I stared at the blade, a strange feeling prickled at the back of my neck. It wasn¡¯t just the runes. Something about the rapier felt¡­off. Like it didn¡¯t belong here¡ªor maybe like I didn¡¯t belong here, standing in front of it. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, the museum will be closing in fifteen minutes,¡± a voice crackled over the intercom. Emma sighed. ¡°Guess that¡¯s our cue. Ready to go?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, tearing my gaze away from the rapier. ¡°Just¡­give me a sec.¡± She raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t argue, heading toward the exit while I lingered by the display. I couldn¡¯t explain why, but I felt compelled to look at it one last time. The runes seemed to shimmer faintly under the light, though I knew it had to be my imagination. Still, the pull was undeniable, like the rapier was whispering something I couldn¡¯t quite hear. Before I realized what I was doing, I reached out, my fingers brushing the edge of the glass case. And then the world tilted. It wasn¡¯t dramatic¡ªnot at first. No flash of light, no thunderclap. Just a soft hum, so faint I almost didn¡¯t notice it. But the hum grew louder, vibrating through my chest and up into my skull, until it was the only thing I could hear. My vision blurred, and for a moment, I thought I was fainting. The room around me seemed to twist and bend, the air growing thick and heavy. ¡°Emma?¡± I tried to call out, but my voice felt distant, muffled. The last thing I saw was the rapier, its blade glowing faintly, the runes flaring to life in a brilliant, unnatural light. And then everything went dark. Chapter Five: A Rude Awakening The first thing I noticed was the smell. It wasn¡¯t the faint antiseptic tang of the dentist¡¯s office, or the comforting aroma of London¡¯s perpetually damp streets. No, this was¡­different. Earthier. A strange mix of wood smoke, spilled ale, and something I could only describe as sweat with a side of regret. My eyes fluttered open, and I groaned as a dull ache settled in the back of my head. ¡°What the hell¡­¡± I muttered, pushing myself upright. The room around me came into focus¡ªdimly lit, small, and definitely not my flat. Rough wooden walls enclosed the space, their surfaces marred by the kind of scratches and stains that suggested decades of hard living. A small fire crackled in a stone hearth, its glow casting flickering shadows across the uneven floorboards. And the bed I was in? Not mine. Unless I¡¯d somehow swapped out my cozy duvet for a scratchy wool blanket and a mattress that felt like it was stuffed with rocks. ¡°What the actual fuck?¡± I whispered, running a hand through my hair. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet meeting the cold wood with a sharp jolt. That¡¯s when I noticed the clothes. They were draped over a nearby rack, neatly folded and completely alien to anything I¡¯d ever owned. A simple tunic, dark trousers, a thick leather belt, and what looked like some kind of leather chest piece¡ªarmor, maybe? ¡°What am I¡­in a Ren Faire?¡± I said aloud, trying to inject some humor into the rapidly spiraling confusion. And then I saw the rapier. It was propped against the wall next to the rack, its blade catching the firelight like it was winking at me. The same rapier from the museum, with the same strange runes etched into its surface. My stomach dropped. ¡°This isn¡¯t real,¡± I muttered, my voice shaky. ¡°It can¡¯t be real.¡± But the room was too vivid, too solid to be a dream. The texture of the wood beneath my fingers, the faint crackle of the fire, the smell of everything¡ªit was all too much. I stood up, wobbling slightly as my legs adjusted, and took a cautious step toward the rapier. My hand hovered over the hilt, and for a moment, I hesitated. What if this was some elaborate prank? What if Emma was hiding just out of sight, waiting to jump out and yell, ¡°Gotcha!¡±? ¡°Emma?¡± I called, my voice echoing slightly. No answer. I grabbed the rapier, the cool metal of the hilt grounding me just enough to keep the rising panic at bay. It felt lighter than I remembered, but the runes were still there, glowing faintly in the firelight. Before I could process what that meant, the door creaked open. I whirled around, raising the rapier instinctively, and nearly tripped over my own feet. A woman stood in the doorway, her expression caught somewhere between surprise and amusement. She was short, with sharp features and a weathered face, her hair pulled back into a messy bun. A stained apron hung over her plain dress, and her hands were dusted with flour. ¡°Well,¡± she said, her voice thick with an accent I couldn¡¯t quite place. ¡°You¡¯re up earlier than most.¡± I blinked at her, my brain struggling to catch up. ¡°Where¡­where am I?¡± The woman raised an eyebrow. ¡°The Fox and Fiddle, same as last night. Or did you drink yourself stupid enough to forget that too?¡± ¡°The Fox and Fiddle?¡± I repeated dumbly. ¡°What¡¯s that, a pub?¡± She snorted. ¡°What else would it be? You¡¯re in one of my rooms, and I don¡¯t rent them out for anything but sleeping.¡± A pub. A medieval pub. Because of course I was. ¡°This has to be a mistake,¡± I said, shaking my head. ¡°I¡ªI don¡¯t even drink ale.¡± The woman shrugged. ¡°Maybe you should start. Clears the head after a night like yours.¡± ¡°What are you talking about?¡± I demanded, clutching the rapier tighter. She gave me a pointed look, her gaze flicking to the sword. ¡°Look, girl, I don¡¯t know where you came from, and I don¡¯t care. But you paid for the room, you didn¡¯t cause any trouble, and that¡¯s all I need to know. If you want answers, you¡¯re not going to find them up here.¡± With that, she turned and walked out, leaving the door ajar behind her. I stared at the open doorway, my pulse pounding in my ears. This wasn¡¯t happening. It couldn¡¯t be happening. I was in London. I was at the museum. I was¡­ Gone. The thought hit me like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I couldn¡¯t breathe. But panic wasn¡¯t going to help, and neither was sitting here like a lunatic. If this was real¡ªand every instinct told me it was¡ªI needed answers. And apparently, they weren¡¯t in this room. I glanced at the rack of clothes, then down at my own, realizing for the first time that I was still wearing what I¡¯d had on at the museum¡ªjeans and a t-shirt. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s subtle,¡± I muttered, grabbing the tunic and trousers. Changing was awkward and more complicated than I¡¯d expected, but I managed to get everything on without tripping over myself. The leather chest piece was surprisingly comfortable, though I wasn¡¯t thrilled about how tight it felt. I strapped the rapier to my side, the weight of it unfamiliar but oddly reassuring. Taking one last look at the room, I squared my shoulders and stepped into the hallway. The hallway stretched out before me, dimly lit by flickering lanterns mounted on the rough wooden walls. The floorboards creaked underfoot as I walked, each step reminding me how far I was from anything resembling normal. I paused, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves. The air smelled faintly of smoke and ale, with an undercurrent of something metallic I couldn¡¯t place. ¡°Alright, Rachel,¡± I muttered under my breath. ¡°You¡¯re in the middle of¡­wherever this is. Figure it out.¡± I took another step¡ªand froze as a faint chime echoed through the air, sharp and clear like a bell struck in a cathedral. ¡°Welcome, Adventurer!¡± I spun around, looking for the source of the voice. It wasn¡¯t coming from behind me. Or above me. Or¡­anywhere, really. It was just there, echoing in my head. Before I could process what was happening, a glowing screen appeared in front of me. It hovered in the air, translucent but undeniable, its soft light illuminating the shadows of the hallway. Welcome, Adventurer! Your class has been assigned: Duelist. Your journey begins here. Current Stats: ¡°What the actual hell?¡± I muttered, staring at the screen. It didn¡¯t make sense. None of it made sense. I reached out cautiously, my fingers brushing against the light. It rippled under my touch, like the surface of a pond disturbed by a pebble. ¡°This can¡¯t be real,¡± I said, my voice shaky. ¡°This is¡­some kind of glitch, right? A hallucination?¡± The screen didn¡¯t respond, but another chime sounded, softer this time. Race Selection Unlocked! Choose your race: I stared at the glowing options, my heart pounding in my chest. ¡°Okay, Rachel,¡± I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Think this through. What¡¯s the least likely option to get you killed?¡± My gaze lingered on each choice. Human seemed safe, familiar, but maybe too familiar. I wasn¡¯t sure ¡°balanced¡± was going to cut it in whatever the hell kind of situation I¡¯d found myself in. Elf? It had its perks¡ªextra agility and intelligence sounded great, but the reduced strength made me nervous. What if this world had giant spiders or something? Dwarf? Probably practical, but¡­come on. Me, a dwarf? Hard pass. Half-Orc? Yeah, no thanks. Reduced charisma was a disaster waiting to happen. Halfling? I didn¡¯t love the idea of reduced endurance, but the thought of being quicker on my feet was tempting. I sighed, rubbing my temples. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s get weird. Elf it is.¡± The moment I made my selection, the screen shimmered and faded, leaving me alone in the hallway once more. A strange warmth washed over me, not unpleasant but deeply unsettling. It felt like stepping into sunlight after a cold rain, my muscles tingling as if they were waking up for the first time. I flexed my fingers, then my arms, half-expecting them to look different. But they were the same as always¡ªat least on the outside. ¡°Okay,¡± I said, taking a shaky breath. ¡°That just happened.¡± The screen didn¡¯t reappear, and the hallway was silent again, save for the distant murmur of voices drifting up from downstairs.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Gripping the hilt of the rapier at my side, I squared my shoulders and started toward the staircase. If this was real¡ªand it felt far too vivid to be anything else¡ªI needed answers. And sitting here gawking at invisible stat screens wasn¡¯t going to get me any closer to them. The staircase creaked as I descended, the voices from below growing louder with each step. It was strange¡ªeverything about this place felt both impossibly real and utterly surreal at the same time. As I reached the landing, I spotted a long mirror hanging on the wall to my right. The glass was cloudy with age, its surface dotted with faint smudges and scratches. I paused. Something in the back of my mind told me to keep moving, that the answers I needed weren¡¯t going to come from a mirror. But curiosity¡ªor maybe vanity¡ªgot the better of me. I turned to face my reflection. At first glance, I looked¡­normal. Same auburn hair, same pale skin, same slightly-too-thin build that I always told myself I¡¯d do something about. But as I leaned in, my heart skipped a beat. My ears. They were longer, more pointed than before, the tips just barely peeking out from beneath my hair. I reached up, hesitating for a moment before touching them. They were warm, real, and definitely mine. ¡°Okay,¡± I muttered, swallowing hard. ¡°That¡¯s new.¡± But it wasn¡¯t just the ears. My face looked¡­different. Subtly so, but enough to make me blink a few times to be sure. My cheekbones seemed sharper, more defined, and my skin had a faint glow to it¡ªlike I¡¯d just stepped out of a spa after a week of facials and hydration treatments. My eyes caught the light in a way that made them look brighter, clearer, almost unnaturally vivid. I tilted my head, trying to process the changes. ¡°Is this what elves are supposed to look like?¡± It wasn¡¯t just my face. My posture seemed straighter, more confident, and there was a lightness to the way I moved, as if my body had been fine-tuned overnight. For a moment, I couldn¡¯t help but smirk. ¡°Well, at least I got an upgrade.¡± The smirk faded as reality came crashing back. This wasn¡¯t normal. None of it was. I¡¯d chosen to be an elf because it seemed like the smartest choice, but now I was standing here with a new face and pointy ears, and I still didn¡¯t have a clue what was going on. I ran a hand through my hair, taking a shaky breath. ¡°Focus, Rachel. Answers first, existential crisis later.¡± The murmur of voices from downstairs pulled me out of my thoughts, and I turned away from the mirror, gripping the hilt of the rapier at my side. The blade felt reassuringly solid, the weight of it grounding me as I descended the last few steps and stepped into the main room of the tavern. It was bustling, alive with the sounds of clinking mugs, raucous laughter, and the occasional shouted argument. The smell of roasted meat and freshly baked bread filled the air, mingling with the faint tang of spilled ale. The space was warm, dimly lit by lanterns hanging from the low wooden beams. Long tables stretched across the room, crowded with people dressed in rough tunics, leather vests, and patched cloaks. I hesitated at the foot of the stairs, scanning the room for¡­what? An explanation? A friendly face? The woman from earlier¡ªthe one who¡¯d called this place the Fox and Fiddle¡ªwas bustling between tables, carrying a tray laden with mugs of frothy ale. She glanced my way and gave a small nod, her expression unreadable. ¡°Here goes nothing,¡± I muttered, stepping into the room. As I wove through the crowd, I couldn¡¯t help but notice the way people looked at me. Most of them barely glanced up from their drinks or conversations, but a few paused, their eyes lingering just a second too long. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was the ears, the sword, or something else entirely, but their gazes made my skin prickle. One man¡ªa burly fellow with a thick beard and a scar running down his cheek¡ªleaned over to his companion as I passed, muttering something that made them both chuckle. I ignored them, keeping my head high and my steps deliberate. If there was one thing I¡¯d learned from years of working in customer service, it was how to fake confidence when you had absolutely none. I reached the bar, a sturdy wooden counter lined with empty mugs and the occasional discarded coin. The bartender, a wiry man with a sharp nose and a permanent scowl, was wiping down the surface with a rag that looked like it hadn¡¯t been washed in years. ¡°What¡¯ll it be?¡± he asked, his voice flat. ¡°Uh¡­ale?¡± I said, trying to sound like I belonged here. ¡°Coin first,¡± he said, holding out a hand. Crap. I hadn¡¯t thought this far ahead. My fingers instinctively went to my pocket, where I felt the crumpled twenty-pound note still tucked away. Without much thought, I pulled it out and placed it on the counter. ¡°This work?¡± I asked hopefully. The bartender gave the note one look before letting out a short, humorless laugh. ¡°Not unless it¡¯s gold. You¡¯ve got coin or not?¡± I froze, my stomach dropping. ¡°I, uh¡­¡± Before I could finish the sentence, something shimmered in front of me. A translucent screen blinked into existence, just like the one I¡¯d seen in the hallway. It hovered over the bar, displaying an organized grid of items. Inventory: ¡°What the¡­?¡± I muttered, leaning back slightly as the screen hovered in front of me. A soft chime sounded, followed by a small popup in the corner of the screen: Inventory Explained! ¡°Materialize in my hand?¡± I repeated under my breath. ¡°What is this, bloody Skyrim?¡± The bartender cleared his throat loudly, dragging my attention back to him. ¡°Look, lass, I¡¯ve got other customers. You paying or not?¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah, one second,¡± I said quickly, staring at the screen. My gaze locked onto the 5 Copper Coins, and I focused on selecting them, as the popup suggested. To my surprise¡ªand mild horror¡ªa single coin appeared in my hand with a soft ping, as if it had been sitting there all along. ¡°Holy shit,¡± I whispered, turning it over in my fingers. It was solid, warm, and very, very real. ¡°You done gawking, or do you want your ale?¡± the bartender asked impatiently. ¡°Right. Sorry,¡± I said, sliding the coin across the counter. He grabbed it, biting down on its edge before nodding and turning to fill a mug. As the frothy ale was placed in front of me, I took a shaky breath, my mind racing. The inventory screen had vanished the moment the coin materialized, but the memory of it lingered. I¡¯d read enough fantasy novels and played enough games to recognize the mechanics, but seeing them in real life¡ªfeeling them¡ªwas something else entirely. ¡°This is insane,¡± I muttered, lifting the mug and taking a hesitant sip. The ale was bitter, heavier than anything I was used to, but it wasn¡¯t bad. It grounded me, the familiar sensation of drinking giving me a moment of clarity amidst the chaos in my head. The ale sloshed in my mug as I weaved through the crowded tavern, doing my best to avoid bumping into anyone. The place was alive with noise¡ªlaughter, shouted arguments, the scrape of chairs against the floor. Every sound seemed to bounce off the wooden walls, filling the room with a chaotic energy that was equal parts exhilarating and overwhelming. I picked a table tucked into a corner near the hearth, grateful for the relative quiet. Setting the mug down, I let out a shaky breath, my mind still racing from everything that had happened. The screen. The coins. The stats. What the hell was going on? I leaned back in my chair, staring into the flickering flames of the hearth as I tried to piece it all together. The screen had felt so¡­natural, like it belonged here, but no one else in the tavern had reacted to it. That meant one of two things: either they couldn¡¯t see it, or this kind of thing was so common here that it wasn¡¯t worth noticing. Maybe they¡¯re all used to this, I thought, glancing around the room. But no one looked at me, not even with my pointy ears and clearly out-of-place demeanor. They were too busy drinking, arguing, and trying to win at life in their own way. I sighed, taking a sip of the ale. It was bitter and heavy, but not terrible. I didn¡¯t have long to mull over my situation. A loud crash shattered the relative calm, followed by the unmistakable sound of a chair being thrown across the room. Heads turned toward the commotion, mine included. Near the center of the tavern, two men were squared off, their postures tense and aggressive. One was burly, with arms like tree trunks and a face that looked like it had been punched a few too many times. The other was leaner, with a wild look in his eyes and a dagger in his hand. ¡°Say it again,¡± Dagger Guy snarled, his voice low and venomous. ¡°Say it to my face.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll say it twice if you want,¡± the burly man shot back, slamming his mug on the table. ¡°You¡¯re a cheating, lying bastard, and everyone here knows it.¡± The room collectively inhaled. Before I could even process what was happening, Dagger Guy lunged. The blade flashed in the firelight, and a sickening thunk followed as it sank into the burly man¡¯s shoulder. He cried out, stumbling back and knocking over a table as blood began to seep through his tunic. The tavern exploded into chaos. People scrambled to get out of the way, chairs and mugs crashing to the floor as the fight escalated. The bartender shouted something about keeping the peace, but no one was listening. I should¡¯ve stayed put. I knew I should¡¯ve stayed put. But something about the scene sent a jolt of adrenaline through me. Before I realized what I was doing, I was on my feet, the rapier at my side practically begging to be drawn. ¡°Hey!¡± I shouted, pushing through the crowd toward the fight. Dagger Guy turned, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto me. He looked me up and down, sneering at the sight of the rapier. ¡°And who the hell are you?¡± he spat, yanking the blade free from his victim¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Someone who doesn¡¯t want this to get worse,¡± I said, my voice steadier than I felt. He laughed, a harsh, grating sound that made my skin crawl. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s already worse, elf girl. You¡¯re just too stupid to know it.¡± I barely had time to process the insult before he lunged at me, the dagger aimed straight for my chest. My body moved on instinct. I sidestepped the attack, my movements quicker and more fluid than I expected. The rapier was in my hand before I even realized I¡¯d drawn it, the blade catching the firelight as I brought it up to parry. The sound of steel meeting steel rang out, sharp and jarring. ¡°Not bad,¡± Dagger Guy said, circling me like a predator sizing up its prey. ¡°But you¡¯re out of your depth, sweetheart.¡± ¡°Yeah, well,¡± I shot back, ¡°you¡¯re out of time.¡± It wasn¡¯t the best comeback, but I didn¡¯t have time to dwell on it. He lunged again, his movements fast and unpredictable. I blocked the first strike, then the second, the rapier feeling like an extension of my arm. My mind was racing, trying to remember everything I¡¯d learned about fencing. The footwork, the angles, the timing¡ªit all came flooding back in a rush of muscle memory. But this wasn¡¯t a friendly match at the club. This was real. The dagger scraped past my arm, the blade slicing through the leather armor but barely grazing my skin. The sting was enough to make me wince, but I pushed through, stepping into his guard and driving the hilt of the rapier into his ribs. He stumbled back, coughing, but he didn¡¯t go down. The crowd had formed a loose circle around us now, their shouts and jeers blending into a cacophony that made it hard to think. ¡°Come on, then,¡± Dagger Guy taunted, blood dripping from his split lip. ¡°Show me what you¡¯ve got.¡± I didn¡¯t wait for him to attack again. This time, I lunged first, the tip of the rapier aimed for his dagger arm. He dodged, but not fast enough¡ªI caught him just above the wrist, and the dagger clattered to the floor. Before he could recover, I brought the blade up to his throat, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. ¡°It¡¯s over,¡± I said, my voice firm despite the pounding in my chest. For a moment, he just stared at me, his wild eyes narrowing. Then he raised his hands slowly, a twisted grin spreading across his face. ¡°Well played,¡± he said. The tension in the room broke as a pair of burly men¡ªlikely the tavern¡¯s unofficial bouncers¡ªstepped forward to haul him away. I lowered the rapier, my hand trembling as the adrenaline began to wear off. The burly man he¡¯d stabbed was being helped into a chair, his wound already being tended to by someone who looked like they knew what they were doing. I exhaled, turning back toward my table. As I sheathed the rapier, I couldn¡¯t help but notice the way people were looking at me now. Not with suspicion, but with a strange mix of curiosity and respect. ¡°Guess I made an impression,¡± I muttered, sinking back into my chair. And just like that, the tavern slowly returned to its usual chaos. I sat back in my chair, still gripping the mug of ale as if it could ground me in the middle of all this madness. My breath was shallow, my hands trembling from the rush of adrenaline that hadn¡¯t quite faded yet. Around me, the tavern slowly returned to its usual rhythm. Conversations picked up again, laughter and clinking mugs filling the air like nothing had happened. A few people threw glances my way¡ªsome curious, others impressed¡ªbut no one said anything. I didn¡¯t want to think about what had just happened, but my mind wouldn¡¯t stop replaying it. The weight of the rapier in my hand, the sharp clash of steel, the way my body had moved without me even thinking. I didn¡¯t just defend myself. I won. The thought brought a strange mix of pride and unease. I¡¯d fought someone¡ªand it hadn¡¯t been a fairytale duel or a choreographed sparring match. It had been raw, messy, and terrifyingly real. ¡°Is this what it¡¯s going to be like here?¡± I muttered under my breath, staring into the amber liquid in my mug. The familiar chime broke through my thoughts, sharp and clear like a bell. I froze. Another translucent screen appeared in front of me, this one smaller than before. The text glowed faintly, its soft light casting strange shadows on the table. Congratulations, Adventurer! You have gained 10 EXP! ¡°What?¡± I whispered, leaning forward. The screen shimmered, and a new line of text appeared beneath the first: Actions Taken: The words blurred together as my brain struggled to process what I was seeing. EXP? Combat Victory? It was like being in a video game, but the stakes weren¡¯t virtual. I could still feel the sting on my arm where the dagger had nicked me, the faint throb of my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Before I could overthink it, another popup appeared: Your Progress: I blinked, leaning back in my chair as the screen dissolved into nothingness. For a moment, I just sat there, staring at the empty air where the words had been. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut: whatever was happening to me¡ªthis world, this system¡ªI wasn¡¯t just in it. I was part of it. I clenched my fists, the rapier resting against my leg as I tried to steady my breathing. ¡°Alright,¡± I muttered. ¡°Game on.¡± Chapter Six: Liam Carter Liam Carter Being a bouncer wasn¡¯t glamorous. It wasn¡¯t even satisfying most of the time. It was long hours on your feet, dealing with drunk idiots, dodging the occasional poorly aimed punch, and getting yelled at for things that weren¡¯t remotely your fault. But it paid the bills, and for Liam Carter, that was enough. The neon lights of the club pulsed above the entrance, casting a faint pink glow on the line of people waiting to get in. Music thumped from inside, the bassline reverberating through the pavement and into Liam¡¯s chest as he stood by the door, arms crossed. ¡°ID,¡± he said, his voice low but firm, as the next person in line stepped up. The guy was young, barely out of his teens, with a swagger that screamed overcompensation. He fumbled for his wallet, pulling out an ID that Liam didn¡¯t even bother to glance at before handing it back. ¡°Too drunk,¡± Liam said simply, motioning him out of the line. ¡°What? No, come on, mate,¡± the guy protested, his words slurring together. ¡°I¡¯m fine!¡± ¡°You¡¯re not,¡± Liam replied, his tone flat. The guy¡¯s friends started to chime in, pleading and making half-hearted excuses, but Liam didn¡¯t budge. He¡¯d heard it all before¡ªthe same tired arguments recycled by people who thought they were more clever than they were drunk. ¡°Next,¡± Liam said, ignoring the guy as he stumbled away, cursing under his breath. The night dragged on, the line ebbing and flowing as people came and went. Inside, the music was deafening, a relentless thrum of bass and electronic beats that Liam could feel in his bones even from outside. It wasn¡¯t all bad, though. The job had its moments¡ªlike watching a guy try to impress his date by skipping the line, only to trip over his own feet and faceplant onto the pavement. That one had kept Liam entertained for a good ten minutes. Still, by the time the clock hit two in the morning, he was ready to be done. His feet ached, his back was sore, and the cold Sydney air had started to creep through his jacket.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. When his shift finally ended, Liam grabbed his jacket from the staff room and headed out into the night. The city was quieter now, the streets mostly empty save for the occasional taxi or a group of rowdy partygoers stumbling home. He pulled out his phone, checking the time. 2:23 a.m. ¡°Great,¡± he muttered, shoving it back into his pocket. It was a 15-minute walk to his car, parked a few blocks away to avoid the exorbitant parking fees near the club. Normally, he didn¡¯t mind the walk¡ªit gave him time to clear his head¡ªbut tonight, it just felt like another chore. Liam¡¯s flat was small, tucked into a nondescript building in the western suburbs. He let himself in quietly, kicking off his boots by the door and dropping his jacket onto the back of a chair. The living room was dark, illuminated only by the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through the curtains. He paused for a moment, listening to the stillness before heading down the hall to the second bedroom. ¡°Mum?¡± he called softly, pushing the door open. The room was dimly lit by a bedside lamp, its warm glow casting soft shadows on the walls. His mother was sitting up in bed, a blanket draped over her thin frame. Her face was pale, her features drawn with the kind of weariness that only came from prolonged illness. ¡°Liam,¡± she said, her voice weak but warm. ¡°You¡¯re late.¡± ¡°Work ran long,¡± he replied, pulling up a chair beside the bed. ¡°How are you feeling?¡± She shrugged, a faint smile tugging at her lips. ¡°Same as always. You don¡¯t have to hover, you know.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not hovering,¡± he said, though they both knew it was a lie. He sat with her for a while, the two of them falling into an easy rhythm of conversation. They talked about the mundane details of their days¡ªhis work, her doctor¡¯s appointments, the neighbor¡¯s obnoxiously loud dog. It was familiar, comforting in its simplicity. But beneath the surface, there was an unspoken tension, a weight that neither of them acknowledged. Liam glanced at the clock, noting the time. Nearly three in the morning. He should¡¯ve been exhausted, but the thought of leaving her alone made his stomach twist. ¡°I¡¯ll make you some tea,¡± he said, standing up before she could protest. ¡°You spoil me,¡± she said, her smile faint but genuine. ¡°Someone has to,¡± he shot back, heading for the kitchen. As the kettle boiled, Liam leaned against the counter, rubbing a hand over his face. His body ached from the night¡¯s work, but his mind refused to settle. His mum had been sick for years now, the illness creeping in slowly but relentlessly. He¡¯d taken the job at the club because it paid well enough to cover the bills, but it was starting to feel like a treadmill he couldn¡¯t get off. ¡°Just one thing at a time,¡± he muttered, pouring the hot water into a mug and stirring in the tea bag. When he returned to the bedroom, his mum was already dozing, her breathing slow and steady. He set the tea on the bedside table and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. For a moment, he just stood there, watching her. The faint rise and fall of her chest, the way her hands rested lightly on the blanket. ¡°I¡¯ll figure it out,¡± he whispered, more to himself than to her. And with that, he turned off the light and headed for his own room, hoping for a few hours of sleep before it all started again. Chapter Seven: Fishing for Trouble The sun was just beginning to rise when my alarm blared, dragging me from the kind of sleep that leaves you feeling worse than before you closed your eyes. I groaned, slapping at the clock until it fell silent, and rolled out of bed, rubbing my face as the world slowly came into focus. It was Saturday. Fishing day. An hour later, I was on the road, my beat-up ute rattling as I navigated the uneven streets toward the docks. The air was crisp, carrying that faint salty tang you could only get near the water, and for once, Sydney¡¯s traffic wasn¡¯t actively trying to kill me. ¡°About time, mate!¡± The shout came from my best friend, Darren, who was already unloading gear from his truck when I pulled into the gravel lot. He was a broad-shouldered guy with a perpetual tan and a grin that could sell anything to anyone. ¡°Didn¡¯t think you¡¯d actually get up,¡± he said as I stepped out, tossing me a can of beer before I could even greet him. ¡°It¡¯s six in the bloody morning,¡± I said, cracking open the can. ¡°You¡¯re lucky I like you.¡± ¡°Lucky you need me to tie your knots,¡± he shot back, winking. The boat was nothing fancy¡ªjust a small fishing dinghy Darren had inherited from his uncle¡ªbut it floated and didn¡¯t leak, which was all that mattered. We loaded the gear, packed a small cooler with sandwiches and more beer, and pushed off into the water. The city faded behind us as we drifted out toward the quieter stretches of the bay, where the only sounds were the occasional splash of a fish and the distant cry of a gull. Fishing with Darren was always the same. We¡¯d cast our lines, crack open a few beers, and spend most of the morning swapping stories or talking shit about everything from work to footy to the absurd price of groceries. ¡°Tell me again why you still work at that nightclub,¡± Darren said as he reeled in his line for the fifth time, bait untouched. ¡°You could do literally anything else, you know.¡± ¡°Like what?¡± I asked, leaning back against the side of the boat. ¡°Deliver pizza? Sell insurance? Not exactly a step up.¡± ¡°You could¡¯ve been a firefighter,¡± he said, his tone half-teasing. ¡°Big, tough bloke like you? Chicks dig that.¡± I snorted. ¡°Yeah, because what I need is more people yelling at me for doing my job.¡± The banter was easy, familiar, the kind of back-and-forth that didn¡¯t require much thought. But beneath it, there was a comfort I didn¡¯t take for granted. Darren was one of the few people who never judged me for the choices I¡¯d made¡ªor the ones I hadn¡¯t. As the hours wore on, the sun climbed higher, its warmth cutting through the chill of the morning. ¡°You¡¯re slacking,¡± Darren said, nodding toward my line, which sat untouched in the water. ¡°Not even a nibble.¡± ¡°Fish aren¡¯t biting today,¡± I replied, draining the last of my beer. ¡°Maybe you¡¯re just bad at it,¡± he said with a grin. ¡°Maybe,¡± I said, grabbing the line to reel it in. As I pulled the line, something tugged back. ¡°Finally,¡± I muttered, gripping the rod tighter as I started to reel in whatever I¡¯d hooked. The weight was heavier than I expected, but it didn¡¯t move like a fish¡ªno jerking, no frantic thrashing. Just a solid, unrelenting pull. ¡°What¡¯ve you got there, mate?¡± Darren asked, leaning over to watch. ¡°No idea,¡± I said, my brow furrowing as I hauled the line closer. When it broke the surface, both of us froze. ¡°Is that¡­a shield?¡± Darren said, his voice filled with equal parts confusion and disbelief. Floating at the end of the line was exactly that¡ªa battered steel shield, its surface scarred and worn. Water dripped from its edges as I pulled it into the boat, the weight of it making my arms ache. The shield was circular, about two feet across, with a faded spiral design etched into the metal. The craftsmanship was rough, but it was undeniably old¡ªmedieval, maybe even older.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. ¡°This doesn¡¯t make any sense,¡± I said, running a hand over the cold, damp surface. ¡°Who the hell throws a shield in the bay?¡± ¡°More importantly,¡± Darren said, staring at it, ¡°why¡¯s it still in one piece?¡± Neither of us had an answer. I turned the shield over, examining the back. The leather straps were still intact, though they were stiff and cracked with age. A faint symbol was engraved near the center¡ªsomething I didn¡¯t recognize but couldn¡¯t stop staring at. ¡°Well, congrats,¡± Darren said, breaking the silence. ¡°You¡¯ve officially caught the weirdest thing in the bay. Beer¡¯s on you next time.¡± I chuckled, but the sound felt hollow. There was something about the shield that made my skin prickle, like it didn¡¯t belong¡ªnot just in the water, but in the world as it was now. As the boat rocked gently beneath us, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that this wasn¡¯t just a strange find. It was something else entirely. The bell over the pawn shop door jingled as Darren and I stepped inside, the shield clutched awkwardly under my arm. The shop smelled like old wood and dust, the kind of place that felt like it hadn¡¯t been cleaned since the 1980s. The guy behind the counter barely glanced up from his magazine. He was thin, with greasy hair and a stained button-up shirt that did little to inspire confidence. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± he asked, looking at the shield like it was a piece of junk someone had left on his doorstep. ¡°Found it fishing,¡± I said, setting it on the counter with a dull thunk. ¡°Figured it might be worth something.¡± The guy leaned forward, squinting at the shield as he tapped it with one finger. ¡°Steel, huh? Looks old. Couple of bucks for the scrap, maybe.¡± ¡°Couple of bucks?¡± Darren scoffed. ¡°Mate, this thing¡¯s ancient. Look at the design!¡± The guy rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. ¡°Alright, fine. Fifty bucks. Take it or leave it.¡± Before I could respond, a voice from behind us cut through the room. ¡°Fifty bucks? Are you mad?¡± I turned to see a man standing by one of the shelves, a polished leather briefcase in hand. He was tall, sharply dressed in a tweed jacket and a bow tie that screamed collector. His eyes were sharp, gleaming with an almost predatory interest as he approached the counter. ¡°That shield,¡± the man said, pointing, ¡°is not scrap metal. It¡¯s a relic.¡± The pawn shop guy folded his arms. ¡°Yeah? And what makes you the expert?¡± The collector smirked, reaching out to trace a finger along the spiral design etched into the metal. ¡°This motif is distinctly Pictish¡ª6th century, if I¡¯m not mistaken. And this,¡± he tapped the faint symbol on the back of the shield, ¡°is an insignia used by a clan believed to have vanished during the early Middle Ages.¡± He straightened, glancing at me. ¡°This shield isn¡¯t just valuable. It¡¯s priceless. A piece like this could easily fetch a hundred thousand dollars at auction¡ªpossibly more.¡± My stomach dropped. ¡°You¡¯re full of it,¡± the pawn shop guy said, scowling. ¡°There¡¯s no way that piece of junk¡¯s worth that much.¡± The collector¡¯s smirk widened. ¡°Believe what you like, but if he¡¯s smart, he won¡¯t sell it to you for fifty dollars.¡± The shop owner turned back to me, his expression a mix of annoyance and desperation. ¡°Look, I¡¯ll give you a hundred bucks. Final offer.¡± A hundred bucks. The words hung in the air like a bad joke. I stared at the shield, the weight of the collector¡¯s words pressing down on me. A hundred thousand dollars? That kind of money could change everything. It could pay off my debts, fix up the flat, maybe even¡­ I glanced at Darren, whose wide-eyed look mirrored my own. ¡°What do you think?¡± I asked quietly. Darren shook his head. ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid, mate. You heard the guy¡ªit¡¯s worth way more than that.¡± ¡°Yeah, but¡­¡± I hesitated, my mind spinning. Before I could make up my mind, the pawn shop guy threw up his hands. ¡°Whatever. Take it somewhere else if you think you¡¯ll get a better deal. I¡¯m not paying a cent more.¡± I picked up the shield, my hands trembling slightly as I turned to leave. The collector gave me a polite nod, his gaze lingering on the shield for just a moment too long. ¡°Good luck,¡± he said, his voice smooth and confident. The drive home was quiet, Darren unusually subdued in the passenger seat. ¡°You gonna sell it to someone else?¡± he asked finally. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I admitted. The shield was sitting in the backseat, its surface catching the afternoon light in a way that made the strange spiral design seem almost alive. ¡°Feels like fate, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Darren said, half-joking. ¡°Yeah,¡± I muttered, gripping the steering wheel tighter. ¡°Fate.¡± I dropped Darren off at his place and headed home, the shield weighing heavily on my mind¡ªand my backseat. As I pulled into the driveway, my phone buzzed in the cup holder. ¡°Hello?¡± I answered, stepping out of the car. ¡°Mr. Carter, this is Dr. Patel,¡± came the voice on the other end. ¡°I wanted to follow up on your mother¡¯s case.¡± My stomach tightened. ¡°What about it?¡± ¡°We¡¯ve been reviewing her file, and there¡¯s a new treatment available. It¡¯s experimental, but the success rate has been promising.¡± ¡°And the cost?¡± I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. There was a pause. ¡°A hundred thousand dollars.¡± I felt the world tilt slightly beneath my feet. ¡°Without the treatment,¡± Dr. Patel continued carefully, ¡°your mother¡¯s prognosis remains unchanged. She likely has five to six months.¡± The words hit me like a physical blow. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said, cutting the call short before he could say anything else. I climbed into the driver¡¯s seat and slammed the door shut, my hands gripping the steering wheel as I tried to steady my breathing. A hundred thousand dollars. It was the exact amount the collector had said the shield was worth. The shield sat on the backseat, its surface gleaming faintly in the dim light. It didn¡¯t look like much¡ªjust an old piece of metal, scarred and worn¡ªbut now it felt like the universe¡¯s cruel joke. ¡°This isn¡¯t fair,¡± I muttered, my voice cracking. Tears blurred my vision as the weight of everything came crashing down. My job, my mum, the shield¡ªit was too much. I slammed my fist against the steering wheel, a choked sob escaping my throat. And then, the shield glowed. At first, I thought it was just a trick of the light, but the glow grew brighter, spilling into the car like molten gold. ¡°What the¡ª¡± Before I could finish the thought, the light engulfed me, pulling me into a blinding, weightless void. And then, everything went dark. Chapter Eight : Life Of A Paladin The first thing I noticed was the cold. Not the damp chill of a Sydney winter, but something sharper, biting against my skin like icy needles. My eyes flickered open, and the world around me came into focus¡ªstone walls, a vaulted ceiling, and the faint glow of torches mounted in sconces. I wasn¡¯t in my car anymore. ¡°Sir! Sir, can you hear me?¡± The voice snapped me out of my daze. I turned my head, blinking at the figure crouched beside me¡ªa young man in chainmail, his face streaked with dirt and sweat. His wide eyes were filled with urgency, his hand gripping my shoulder as if to keep me grounded. ¡°Where¡­¡± My voice came out rough, unsteady. ¡°Where am I?¡± ¡°There¡¯s no time to explain,¡± the man said, his words tumbling over each other in his rush. ¡°The kingdom is under attack. We need every able body at the gates.¡± Attack? Gates? My mind reeled, trying to catch up with the situation. But before I could ask any more questions, I felt it¡ªthe weight of steel against my back and at my hip. I glanced down. A sword hung at my side, the hilt plain but sturdy. The shield¡ªthe same one I¡¯d pulled out of the water¡ªwas strapped to my left arm, its surface now polished and gleaming, the spiral design glowing faintly. ¡°Get up!¡± the man urged, tugging at my arm. Adrenaline surged through me, overriding the confusion and fear. I pushed myself to my feet, the cold stone floor solid beneath my boots. My boots¡ªwhen had I changed clothes? My questions would have to wait. The sound of distant shouting reached my ears, followed by the unmistakable clash of metal on metal. ¡°Follow me!¡± the man said, already moving toward a narrow staircase that spiraled downward. I hesitated for only a moment before following, my shield bumping against my arm with every step. The stairwell was dark and cramped, the air thick with the smell of smoke and sweat. My boots pounded against the stone as I ran, the echoes blending with the rising noise of battle. By the time we reached the bottom, the sounds of chaos were deafening. The room opened into a wide courtyard, its walls lined with archers firing volleys of arrows into the night. Flames flickered against the stone, casting everything in an orange glow. Soldiers in mismatched armor moved in every direction, some carrying weapons, others dragging the wounded away from the fray. The gate was massive, reinforced with iron bands, and it was shaking violently with every blow from the other side. ¡°We¡¯re being overrun!¡± someone shouted, their voice barely audible over the din. ¡°Hold the line!¡± another barked, their tone filled with a mix of desperation and determination. I froze, taking in the scene. This wasn¡¯t just a skirmish¡ªit was a full-scale assault. ¡°Sir!¡± the young man from before grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the gate. ¡°We need reinforcements! You must help hold them off!¡± ¡°Hold them off?¡± I echoed, my voice laced with disbelief. ¡°Mate, I don¡¯t even know where I¡ª¡± A deafening crash interrupted me, and the gate buckled inward, the iron bands groaning under the strain. The soldiers nearest the gate braced themselves, raising shields and spears as a battering ram struck again. ¡°Take your position!¡± the young man shouted, shoving me forward. Instinct took over. I raised the shield, the familiar weight somehow comforting despite the chaos. The sword felt natural in my hand, its hilt fitting perfectly into my grip. The gate gave one final shudder before it burst open, splinters of wood and metal flying in all directions. The enemy poured through¡ªmen clad in dark armor, their faces obscured by helms. They moved with brutal efficiency, cutting down anyone who stood in their way. Time seemed to slow as one of them charged toward me, a massive axe raised high. My body moved before my mind could catch up. I stepped to the side, the axe whistling past me as I brought my sword up in a sharp arc. The blade connected with the man¡¯s side, and he crumpled with a grunt of pain. Another came at me, swinging a sword with reckless abandon. I raised the shield, the blow reverberating through my arm, and countered with a thrust that caught him in the shoulder. Adrenaline surged through me, each movement faster and more precise than I thought possible. It was like my body knew exactly what to do, even as my mind struggled to keep up.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. The spiral on the shield glowed brighter with each block, each strike, and I could feel a strange warmth radiating from it, as if it were alive. The enemy hesitated, their advance slowing as they took in the sight of me¡ªa stranger fighting with an uncanny precision. ¡°Push them back!¡± someone shouted, and the soldiers around me surged forward, rallying to the defense. The tide began to turn, the enemy faltering under the renewed assault. As the battle raged on, I found myself at the center of it, the sword and shield moving as if they were part of me. I didn¡¯t know how or why, but for the first time in years, I felt¡­purposeful. When the last of the attackers retreated through the broken gate, the courtyard erupted in cheers. I lowered the sword, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. The young man from before appeared at my side, his face beaming with gratitude. ¡°You fought like a true knight,¡± he said, his voice filled with awe. I stared at him, the weight of everything finally sinking in. ¡°What the hell have I gotten myself into?¡± I muttered, the glow of the shield flickering like a heartbeat. The courtyard¡¯s chaos seemed to drift further away as I leaned against the cold stone wall, the weight of the shield pulling on my arm. Around me, the soldiers were hard at work, patching the gates and dragging the wounded to safety. I stared at the ground, trying to catch my breath, trying to make sense of what had just happened. I¡¯d fought like a man possessed. Movements I didn¡¯t recognize flowed through me like second nature. And the shield¡­ The damn thing was glowing. Pulsing, even now, like it had a heartbeat. A chime rang out, sharp and melodic, and before I could even react, a glowing screen appeared in front of me. Welcome, Adventurer! Your class has been assigned: Paladin. Your Current Stats: Paladin. That word carried a weight I couldn¡¯t ignore. It wasn¡¯t just a title¡ªit was a role, a purpose. Protector of the weak, righteous warrior. But I didn¡¯t feel righteous, and I sure as hell didn¡¯t feel ready for any of this. Another chime drew my attention as the screen shifted. Race Selection Unlocked! Choose your race: I stared at the list, my mind whirring. Each option came with its own strengths and weaknesses, but this wasn¡¯t a video game. This was my life now, and I needed every edge I could get. Human was too safe. Feralkin didn¡¯t feel like me. Stoneborn and Drakenblood were tempting, but they felt¡­off. Shadowling sounded clever, but clever wasn¡¯t what I needed. Half-Orc. Strength and Endurance. Tough, durable, and straightforward. It wasn¡¯t glamorous, but it made sense. ¡°Half-Orc,¡± I said, my voice firm. The screen shimmered, and a rush of energy coursed through me. My muscles felt denser, heavier, and my hands were rougher, my nails thickened into sharp claws. My jaw felt stronger, my teeth sharper, and I caught a faint greenish tint to my skin when I glanced down. The stats updated themselves as the energy settled. Updated Stats: I barely had time to process the changes before another screen appeared. Level Up! Choose a Perk:
  1. Divine Smite: Channel holy energy into your attacks, dealing additional damage to enemies.
  2. Iron Resolve: Gain a temporary boost to Endurance when your health is critically low.
  3. Shield Mastery: Increased effectiveness when using shields for both defense and offense.
Divine Smite caught my eye immediately. It was direct, powerful, and exactly what I needed to handle whatever this world threw at me. ¡°Divine Smite,¡± I said, and the screen confirmed the choice with a faint glow. Bonus Unlocked: I thought it through carefully. Strength and Endurance were obvious choices, but Mana was essential if I was going to cast spells. I split the points: +2 to Strength and +1 to Mana. Updated Stats: A new chime sounded, and a small, transparent HUD materialized at the corner of my vision. Three bars hovered in the air, each labeled: The sight made my breath catch. It was like something out of a video game, but it was there¡ªreal, tangible, and somehow tied to my very being. Before I could take it all in, a final screen appeared, showing a list of spells: Spellcasting Unlocked! Available Spells:
  1. Holy Light: Heal minor wounds for yourself or an ally. (Mana Cost: 5)
  2. Radiant Strike: Empower your next attack with holy energy, dealing additional damage. (Mana Cost: 10)
  3. Shield of Faith: Create a protective barrier that absorbs incoming damage for a short time. (Mana Cost: 15)
  4. Divine Command: Intimidate enemies into retreating or hesitating. (Mana Cost: 10)
  5. Blessed Endurance: Temporarily increase your stamina during prolonged combat. (Mana Cost: 5)
I skimmed through the descriptions, noting the mana costs. Thirty mana didn¡¯t seem like much, especially if I needed to use multiple spells in a fight. The screen faded, leaving me alone with the HUD still faintly glowing in my peripheral vision. I flexed my hands, the new strength coursing through my body feeling both alien and natural at the same time. I glanced down at the shield, its spiral glowing faintly. Whatever this was, I was in it now. ¡°Alright,¡± I muttered, pushing off the wall. ¡°Let¡¯s see what this world¡¯s got.¡± Chapter Nine: Evelyn "Evie" Harper Evelyn "Evie" Harper The library was as quiet as it always was on a rainy Thursday. I leaned back in my chair behind the circulation desk, staring at the steady drizzle streaking down the window. The faint smell of old books and tea clung to the air, a comforting mix that usually kept me content. Today, though, it only reminded me how dull the day had been. I checked the clock again. Five hours until closing. Wonderful. The ping of a notification snapped me out of my boredom. I glanced down at my phone and saw the message from our group chat, Bookish & Chaotic. Maya: Alright, nerds. When are we meeting up for costumes? We¡¯ve got less than 24 hours till Anime North. I smirked, opening the chat. Maya¡¯s energy practically jumped off the screen. Jake: You¡¯re acting like we¡¯re presenting at a fashion show. Just say when. Maya: This is a fashion show. Our group cosplay is gonna turn heads. The chat lit up as I typed my response. Evie: Maya, you¡¯ve been preparing for this all year. I think you¡¯ve got it covered. Maya: But have I??? Have you tried everything on? Does it fit? Are the wigs styled?! Jake: Evie, for the love of all things nerdy, please tell her we¡¯re meeting tonight so she doesn¡¯t combust. I couldn¡¯t help laughing. Maya¡¯s enthusiasm was contagious, even if her relentless attention to detail sometimes bordered on overkill. Evie: Fine. My place at 7. Bring the chaos, but leave the glitter bombs at home. Maya: Yessss! I¡¯ll bring snacks. Jake: I¡¯ll bring duct tape for whatever disaster Maya drags in. The messages continued to pour in as I set my phone down, a small smile lingering on my lips.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. This was a tradition¡ªa plan we¡¯d hatched almost a year ago after Maya had convinced us to join her in a group cosplay idea she¡¯d been dreaming up for years. The convention was her Christmas, her Olympics, her everything. And somehow, she¡¯d roped Jake and me into her orbit. Despite myself, I was excited. I hadn¡¯t done anything like this since before the divorce, and the thought of slipping into a costume, immersing myself in a world of fandoms and creativity, felt like exactly the kind of escape I needed. For the first time that day, the hours ahead didn¡¯t feel quite so dull. The end of the workday couldn¡¯t come fast enough. When the clock finally hit six, I flipped the CLOSED sign on the library¡¯s glass doors and locked them with a satisfying click. The rain had stopped, leaving the streets slick and shining under the glow of streetlights. I grabbed my bag from the desk, stuffing my notebook and tarot deck inside before heading out into the damp evening. The air was cool, and the walk home felt quieter than usual, my boots splashing softly through the shallow puddles. By the time I reached my flat, the city¡¯s noises had faded into the background¡ªa dull hum of distant traffic and murmured conversations. I unlocked the door and stepped inside, the familiar scent of lavender from the diffuser greeting me like an old friend. The flat was small but cozy, a mix of secondhand furniture and personal touches that made it feel like mine. Books lined every available surface, their spines leaning against each other in an organized chaos that only I understood. I dropped my bag onto the couch and headed for the kitchen, my stomach reminding me that I hadn¡¯t eaten since lunch. Cooking wasn¡¯t exactly my forte, but I could manage the basics. I threw together a quick stir-fry¡ªchicken, veggies, and a generous splash of soy sauce¡ªwhile humming a song I¡¯d half-forgotten. The sizzling of the pan and the rhythmic chop of the knife filled the quiet space, grounding me after the long day. By the time I plated the food and settled at the small dining table, the tension in my shoulders had begun to ease. ¡°This is what normal looks like,¡± I murmured, spearing a piece of broccoli with my fork. The warmth of the meal and the soft glow of the table lamp made the flat feel especially comforting. I allowed myself to sink into the moment, savoring the rare sense of peace. Halfway through my meal, the doorbell rang. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It wasn¡¯t quite seven yet, but Maya and Jake were nothing if not eager. ¡°I swear, they don¡¯t know how to wait,¡± I muttered, wiping my hands on a napkin as I got up to answer the door. When I opened it, Maya stood there grinning, a large duffle bag slung over her shoulder. Jake was right behind her, holding a plastic bag filled with snacks and what looked suspiciously like duct tape. ¡°Evie!¡± Maya chirped, brushing past me into the flat. ¡°Tell me you¡¯re ready for this. We¡¯ve got so much to do.¡± Jake gave me a wry smile as he followed her inside. ¡°I told her to wait, but you know how she is.¡± I closed the door behind them, already feeling the chaos they¡¯d brought with them. ¡°Make yourselves at home,¡± I said dryly, gesturing toward the couch. ¡°I just finished eating, so try not to destroy the place before I join you.¡± Maya was already unpacking her bag, pulling out an assortment of costumes, wigs, and accessories with the precision of someone preparing for battle. Jake shook his head, plopping onto the couch and opening a bag of chips. This was going to be a long night, but for once, I didn¡¯t mind. Chapter Ten: The Cards in the Shadows The convention floor was a kaleidoscope of color and chaos. Cosplayers, vendors, and fans milled about in every direction, their voices blending into a hum of excitement that filled the massive hall. The air smelled faintly of popcorn and plastic, the kind of mix you only got at events like this. I adjusted the edge of my costume¡ªa carefully pieced-together version of Mitsuri Kanroji from Demon Slayer¡ªand tried to keep up with Maya and Jake as they navigated the crowd. Maya, dressed as Shinobu Kocho, was in her element, chatting animatedly with everyone who stopped us for pictures. Jake, pulling off a surprisingly good Tengen Uzui, stood with his usual quiet confidence, his dual prop blades strapped across his back. ¡°Evie, smile!¡± Maya called, tugging me into yet another photo. I grinned, holding my borrowed prop sword at an awkward angle while trying not to trip over the flowy pink and green haori. ¡°Your cosplay is amazing!¡± a passerby gushed, snapping a picture before disappearing into the crowd. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said, the compliment warming me despite my growing exhaustion. It had been like this all day¡ªconstant attention, endless walking, and more photos than I could count. ¡°This is amazing,¡± Maya said, her eyes sparkling as she glanced around. ¡°I swear, conventions are the best thing ever.¡± Jake chuckled. ¡°They¡¯d be better if we didn¡¯t stop every five minutes for pictures.¡± As we made our way through the vendor hall, something caught my eye. A small, dimly lit booth tucked into a corner, its shelves crammed with trinkets, books, and items that seemed¡­different. Not the usual anime merchandise or fan art prints, but things with an esoteric, almost mystical vibe. The vendor, an older woman with piercing eyes and a knowing smile, sat quietly behind the table, her hands folded in her lap.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. I felt an inexplicable pull toward the booth, my feet carrying me there before I even realized it. ¡°Go on without me,¡± I said over my shoulder to Maya and Jake. ¡°I¡¯ll catch up.¡± The woman¡¯s gaze met mine as I approached, her smile deepening slightly. ¡°Looking for something?¡± she asked, her voice low and melodic. ¡°I¡¯m just browsing,¡± I said, though my attention was already drawn to the display. And then I saw them. A deck of tarot cards, resting on a black velvet cloth. Unlike my usual deck, these cards were larger, with intricate designs that seemed to shift under the light. The edges were gilded, and the art was a mix of traditional symbolism and something more¡­primal. ¡°How much for the cards?¡± I asked, picking them up. ¡°They¡¯re one of a kind,¡± the woman said, her tone enigmatic. ¡°Eighty dollars.¡± I hesitated. Eighty bucks was steep for a tarot deck, but something about these cards called to me in a way I couldn¡¯t explain. I handed over the cash before I could second-guess myself. ¡°Use them wisely,¡± the woman said, placing the deck in a small black bag and handing it to me. ¡°They¡¯re not like other cards.¡± Her words lingered in my mind as I rejoined Maya and Jake, the bag tucked safely into my costume¡¯s pocket. The rest of the day passed in a blur of panels, more photos, and too many overpriced snacks. By the time we made it to the Airbnb that evening, my feet were aching, and my mind was buzzing with the day¡¯s chaos. The Airbnb was cozy, with just enough space for the three of us to spread out. Maya immediately claimed the couch, Jake disappeared into the kitchen to grab drinks, and I collapsed onto the armchair, my new tarot deck weighing heavily in my bag. As Maya and Jake bickered over who got the best room, I pulled out the cards, running my fingers over the smooth black bag. ¡°Alright,¡± I murmured to myself. ¡°Let¡¯s see what makes you so special.¡± The cards felt cool and heavy in my hands, their weight oddly reassuring. I shuffled them carefully, the gilded edges catching the light in a way that made them seem almost alive. I spread them out on the table, drawing three cards at random. The first was the Moon. Mystery. Illusion. Hidden truths. The second was the Tower. Destruction. Chaos. Upheaval. My breath caught as I drew the third card. The Devil. Temptation. Power. Darkness. Before I could process the spread, the room shifted. The light overhead flickered wildly, casting strange shadows across the walls. A cold wind swept through the room, ruffling the cards on the table. ¡°Maya? Jake?¡± I called, my voice shaking. No answer. The tarot cards began to glow, their designs pulsing with an otherworldly light. The wind grew stronger, pulling at my hair and clothes, and I felt a strange, unrelenting force dragging me toward the cards. ¡°No, no, no!¡± I shouted, trying to push away from the table, but it was too late. The light engulfed me, and the world fell away. Chapter Eleven : Warlock ¡°Miss? Are you buying the herbs or not?¡± The voice was sharp and impatient, snapping me out of a daze I hadn¡¯t realized I was in. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the dim light of the room. Shelves lined with glass jars and bundles of dried plants surrounded me, the air thick with the earthy scent of roots and spices. The woman behind the counter¡ªa stern-looking older lady with a kerchief tied around her head¡ªwas glaring at me, her hands on her hips. ¡°Herbs?¡± I asked dumbly, my voice sounding distant and strange even to my own ears. The woman huffed. ¡°The sage and wormwood. You¡¯ve been staring at them for the past five minutes.¡± I glanced down. My hands were empty, but there was a small pouch of coins sitting on the counter in front of me, as if I¡¯d placed it there. ¡°I, uh¡­ I don¡¯t think I need them anymore,¡± I said, stepping back from the counter. The woman¡¯s glare deepened, but she scooped up the coins and dropped them back into the pouch before sliding it toward me. ¡°Suit yourself. Don¡¯t come back asking for them when it¡¯s too late.¡± Too late for what? I didn¡¯t ask. My head was spinning as I grabbed the pouch and stumbled toward the door. The moment I stepped outside, the cool air hit me like a slap to the face. The village was bustling. Narrow dirt streets wound between clusters of thatched-roof cottages and wooden stalls, each one teeming with life. Merchants shouted over the din, hawking everything from fresh produce to intricately carved trinkets. The chatter of voices, the clatter of hooves, and the occasional bark of a dog filled the air. I turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. This wasn¡¯t the Airbnb. This wasn¡¯t Toronto. ¡°What the hell?¡± I whispered, clutching the pouch of coins as if it were the only thing tethering me to reality. And then, it happened. A faint chime rang out, clear and melodic, and a translucent screen appeared in front of me. Welcome, Adventurer! Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.Your class has been assigned: Warlock. Your Current Stats: I stared at the screen, my heart racing. Warlock. The word sent a thrill down my spine, stirring up memories of all the dark, magical characters I¡¯d loved in books and games. Before I could fully process it, the screen shimmered, and a new message appeared. Race Selection Unlocked! Choose your race: I blinked at the list, excitement bubbling up despite the surrealness of the situation. This felt like something out of a game¡ªa dream come to life. My eyes lingered on Felkin. High Mana and Intelligence with a shadow magic affinity. It seemed perfect for a Warlock. ¡°Felkin,¡± I said, the word coming out more confidently than I expected. The screen shimmered again, and a wave of warmth surged through me. My body felt lighter, my senses sharper. When I glanced at my hands, they looked the same but¡­different. Shadows seemed to cling to my fingertips, curling and shifting like living smoke before fading away. The stats updated. Updated Stats: I barely had time to take it in before another screen appeared, displaying a list of spells. Spellcasting Unlocked! Available Spells:
  1. Shadow Bolt: Fire a concentrated blast of shadow energy at a target. (Mana Cost: 5)
  2. Eldritch Grasp: Summon shadowy tendrils to restrain enemies. (Mana Cost: 10)
  3. Dark Pact: Sacrifice a portion of your health to restore mana. (Mana Cost: 0, but costs 20 Health)
  4. Veil of Shadows: Cloak yourself in darkness, becoming harder to detect. (Mana Cost: 8)
  5. Cursed Insight: Learn an enemy¡¯s weakness for a limited time. (Mana Cost: 6)
I read through the descriptions, a shiver of excitement running through me. This wasn¡¯t just magic¡ªit was dark, intricate, and full of possibilities. Despite the absurdity of it all, I couldn¡¯t help the grin that spread across my face. ¡°This is insane,¡± I murmured, staring at the glowing screen. ¡°But it¡¯s also kind of incredible.¡± The screen dissolved, leaving me standing in the middle of the bustling village square. People moved around me, oblivious to the life-changing revelations that had just unfolded. I clutched the pouch of coins tighter, my mind racing. Wherever I was, whatever was happening, one thing was clear¡ªI wasn¡¯t in my old life anymore. And for the first time in years, that thought didn¡¯t terrify me. Chapter Twelve: Into the Wild Connor Hayes Godric of Weldrake rose from the tavern table like a man summoned by fate. His sharp blue-gray eyes, which had been warm moments before, now carried the weight of duty. ¡°It seems my time is up,¡± he said, securing the sword at his side. ¡°Stay safe, Connor. Perhaps our paths will cross again.¡± I gave him a nod, trying to muster some semblance of gratitude. ¡°Good luck out there.¡± He smiled faintly, then strode toward the door with a confident gait that made me wonder if I¡¯d ever look that composed in my entire life. The tavern felt quieter without him, the hum of conversations blending into an indistinct murmur. I looked down at the mug of ale he¡¯d bought me. It wasn¡¯t even half-finished, but I didn¡¯t have the appetite for it. I pushed the mug away and left the tavern, the chill evening air greeting me like an unwelcome guest. The city was alive with its own rhythms, lanterns casting flickering light on cobbled streets as merchants packed up their wares and children darted home before curfew. The smells of roasted meats and fresh bread wafted from food stalls, mingling with the acrid scent of horses and wet stone. As I wandered, the realization of just how broke I was hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn¡¯t have a single coin to my name, and while the knight¡¯s charity had been appreciated, it was a one-time thing. The idea of begging made my stomach twist. Stealing? Out of the question. The city gate was the only way forward. I couldn¡¯t stay here. The guards at the gate greeted me as I approached. ¡°You again, traveler?¡± one of them said, his tone friendly. He was a middle-aged man with a thick beard and a slightly weary air. ¡°Didn¡¯t think we¡¯d see you leaving so soon.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, trying to sound casual. ¡°Didn¡¯t work out the way I planned. Thought I¡¯d, uh, head into the woods for a bit.¡± The other guard, younger and leaner, chuckled. ¡°The woods? Hope you know what you¡¯re doing. The beasts out there don¡¯t take kindly to wanderers.¡± ¡°Thanks for the warning,¡± I said, my voice dry. The older guard gave me a thoughtful look. ¡°You¡¯ve got nothing with you. No pack, no weapon. Are you sure about this?¡± I hesitated. ¡°I¡¯ll manage.¡± He shrugged but didn¡¯t press further. ¡°Suit yourself. Just keep to the main trails if you can. They¡¯re less likely to get you killed.¡± With that, they stepped aside, letting me pass through the towering wooden gates. The open fields beyond the city stretched out like a patchwork quilt, dotted with clusters of trees and crisscrossed by narrow dirt paths. The woods loomed in the distance, their dark silhouettes stark against the fading light of the evening sky. I followed a winding trail that led toward the forest, my steps uncertain but deliberate. The cool evening air carried the faint chirping of crickets and the rustle of leaves, a stark contrast to the bustling noise of the city. The woods seemed both inviting and menacing as I drew closer, their shadows lengthening with each passing minute. ¡°Alright,¡± I muttered to myself. ¡°You¡¯ve seen survival shows. How hard can this be?¡± By the time I reached the edge of the forest, the sun had disappeared completely, leaving only the faint glow of starlight to guide me. The air was cooler here, thick with the scent of pine and damp earth. I wandered deeper into the woods, the sounds of nocturnal creatures growing louder with every step. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted, its cry echoing eerily. Eventually, I found a small clearing surrounded by dense underbrush. It wasn¡¯t much, but it felt secluded enough to be safe for the night. ¡°Guess this is home,¡± I muttered, brushing aside some fallen leaves to clear a spot to sit. I gathered a few twigs and dry branches from the surrounding area, arranging them in a haphazard pile. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my lighter¡ªthe only thing I still had from my old life. With a few flicks of the wheel, a small flame sparked to life, catching on the kindling. The fire grew slowly, casting flickering shadows across the clearing.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. I sat back, the warmth of the flames washing over me. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was better than nothing. As I stared into the fire, a soft chime broke the silence. My head snapped up, and I froze as a translucent screen appeared in front of me, glowing faintly in the dim light. Welcome, Adventurer! Your class has been assigned: Ranger. Your Current Stats: I blinked at the screen, my mind racing. Ranger. The word felt oddly appropriate¡ªsomeone who survives in the wild, who uses their wits and skill to navigate the unknown. Before I could fully process it, the screen shimmered, revealing a new message. Race Selection Unlocked! Choose your race: I considered the options, my heart pounding. Sylvan and Shadowkin sounded appealing, but I didn¡¯t want to give up endurance or charisma¡ªI needed every edge I could get. ¡°Human,¡± I said aloud, my voice steady. The screen shimmered again, and a wave of warmth coursed through me. It wasn¡¯t overwhelming, but it was enough to make me feel¡­different. Stronger. More grounded. The stats updated. Updated Stats: Another message appeared, offering a choice. Starting Perk Unlocked! Choose one:
  1. Keen Senses: Improved perception and tracking abilities.
  2. Survivalist: Take reduced damage from environmental hazards and gain bonuses to shelter building.
  3. Rapid Recovery: Recover stamina and minor injuries faster.
I read through the options carefully, my fingers twitching with anticipation. Keen Senses seemed the most useful for someone alone in the wild. ¡°Keen Senses,¡± I said, and the screen flickered in acknowledgment before dissolving. For a moment, I just sat there, staring into the fire. Whatever this was¡ªthis world, this strange system¡ªit was real. And it was mine to figure out. ¡°Alright,¡± I muttered, leaning back against a tree. ¡°Let¡¯s see where this goes.¡± The fire crackled softly, the warmth a small comfort in the cool night air. I stared at the spot where the glowing screen had disappeared, my mind racing to catch up with what I¡¯d just seen. ¡°Ranger,¡± I muttered, rolling the word around in my mouth like a foreign taste. ¡°Stats, perks¡­ what is this, a game?¡± Before I could dwell on it, another chime rang out. A new screen appeared, this one labeled Tutorial. Welcome to the Adventurer¡¯s System! The Adventurer¡¯s System is designed to assist you in navigating the world, improving your skills, and surviving its many challenges. Below is an overview of its key features: Main Features Ranger Overview Rangers excel in survival, exploration, and ranged combat. Your class abilities will develop over time, enhancing your skills in tracking, crafting, and combat. Abilities Unlocked: Leveling Up Gain experience (EXP) through exploration, combat, and completing objectives. Each level increases your stats and grants you a new perk. Inventory: You can access your personal inventory to store items, gear, and resources. This feature allows for convenient item management, even in the heat of battle. Combat: Your abilities as a Ranger are geared toward precision and strategy. Utilize traps, ranged attacks, and environmental advantages to overcome enemies. Quests: Dynamic tasks will appear in your Quest Log, guiding you toward challenges and rewards. Completing quests grants EXP, gold, and other valuable items. A small pop-up at the bottom of the screen blinked: Would you like to enable in-depth tips? I stared at the glowing text, a mix of excitement and disbelief bubbling up inside me. This wasn¡¯t just some random hallucination. It was real¡ªtangible, even if I didn¡¯t fully understand it. ¡°Sure, why not,¡± I said aloud, tapping the Yes option with my finger.
The Tutorial screen dissolved, and a new notification appeared: Quest Unlocked: First Steps Objective: Survive your first night in the wild. Reward: +50 EXP, Beginner¡¯s Survival Kit.
¡°Survive the night,¡± I muttered, glancing at the dark forest around me. ¡°Great. Like I wasn¡¯t already planning on that.¡± The screen faded, leaving me alone again with the flickering firelight. I leaned back against the tree, my thoughts racing. A part of me wanted to laugh at how absurd it all was¡ªstats, perks, quests¡ªbut another part couldn¡¯t help feeling a thrill of excitement. For the first time in years, I wasn¡¯t just drifting through life. I had a purpose, even if I didn¡¯t fully understand it yet. ¡°Alright, System,¡± I said, staring up at the stars. ¡°Let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve got.¡± Chapter Thirteen: The First Night The fire flickered in front of me, casting dancing shadows on the thick tree trunks that surrounded my small clearing. The warm glow felt comforting, but the forest beyond was alive with sounds that made me glance over my shoulder more than once. I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees, and stared into the flames. The Tutorial screen was gone, but the words lingered in my mind. Quests, perks, stats¡ªit sounded ridiculous. Yet here I was, sitting in the middle of a forest I didn¡¯t recognize, with a system straight out of a video game trying to help me survive. ¡°Survive the night,¡± I muttered, running a hand through my hair. ¡°Easy enough, right?¡± The forest didn¡¯t answer. It only gave me more rustling leaves and the occasional distant hoot of an owl. The Quest Unlocked message had mentioned a reward. A Beginner¡¯s Survival Kit sounded promising, but how was it supposed to show up? I sat back and stared at the night sky, the stars piercing through gaps in the canopy. The familiar constellations I¡¯d grown up with were nowhere to be found. That simple realization brought the weight of everything crashing down on me. This wasn¡¯t a game. It wasn¡¯t some elaborate dream. I was in another world, and I didn¡¯t even know the first thing about it. A cold breeze swept through the clearing, carrying with it the faint scent of damp earth. I shivered and drew closer to the fire, letting its warmth seep into my skin. ¡°Alright, System,¡± I said aloud, my voice breaking the quiet. ¡°If you¡¯re gonna help me out, now¡¯s the time.¡± No response. For a moment, I wondered if I¡¯d imagined it all. The screens, the stats, the perks¡ªmaybe it had been my brain¡¯s way of coping with the sheer insanity of my situation. Just as I was about to give up, another chime rang out, softer this time, and a glowing window appeared before me. Quest Progress: Survive your first night in the wild. Current Status: In Progress. Tips: Keep your fire burning and stay alert for potential threats. ¡°Potential threats,¡± I muttered, my eyes darting to the edge of the clearing. ¡°Great. Just what I needed.¡± The window faded, leaving me with a growing sense of unease. My instincts told me to keep moving, but my aching legs and the lure of the fire¡¯s warmth kept me rooted in place. I glanced at the pile of twigs and branches I¡¯d gathered earlier. It wasn¡¯t much, but it might keep the fire going until morning. Picking up a few dry sticks, I fed them into the flames one by one, watching as the embers flared and crackled. The forest beyond the clearing remained dark and still, but I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that something¡ªor someone¡ªwas watching. ¡°You¡¯re just paranoid,¡± I told myself, trying to sound convincing. But deep down, I wasn¡¯t sure if I believed it. I leaned back against the tree again, my hand absently running over the rough bark. The fire¡¯s warmth was soothing, but my body was stiff and sore from walking all day.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. The System hadn¡¯t explained everything, but one thing was clear¡ªI wasn¡¯t going to survive this world by sitting around and hoping for the best. I needed to adapt. To learn. To fight, if it came to that. For now, though, I just needed to make it through the night. ¡°Survive the night,¡± I repeated, my voice barely louder than a whisper. ¡°One step at a time.¡± The fire was down to embers now, casting the clearing in a dim, orange glow. The quiet wasn¡¯t peaceful¡ªit was oppressive. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig felt too loud, too deliberate. I tightened my grip on the largest stick I could find, which wasn¡¯t saying much. It was about as thick as my wrist, the kind of thing you¡¯d use to poke a campfire. Against whatever was out there, it wouldn¡¯t do much, but it made me feel a little less helpless. The System hadn¡¯t popped back up since its last cryptic message about threats, but I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that it was waiting for something. ¡°Alright,¡± I muttered to myself. ¡°You¡¯re the one with the tips. What am I supposed to do here?¡± As if in response, a faint chime rang out again. The glowing screen appeared, hovering just in front of the fire. Tutorial Update: Beasts of the forest may be drawn to fire or food. Remain vigilant. Rewards for surviving the night remain available. ¡°Well, that¡¯s just fantastic,¡± I muttered, my eyes scanning the edge of the clearing. The soft crunch of leaves snapped my attention to the left. My breath caught, and I squinted into the shadows. For a moment, I thought I saw movement¡ªa glint of something in the moonlight. Eyes? I couldn¡¯t be sure. The fire flickered, its glow fading further. I reached over to toss another handful of twigs onto the embers, my hands trembling slightly. The fire flared up, sending shadows dancing across the trees, and that¡¯s when I saw it. A pair of yellow eyes, low to the ground, staring back at me from the darkness. ¡°Shit,¡± I hissed, scrambling to my feet. The creature stepped into the light. It looked like a wolf, but something was off. Its fur was matted, its body larger than any wolf I¡¯d ever seen, and its teeth glinted unnaturally sharp in the firelight. A low growl rumbled from its throat, and the sound sent a chill down my spine. I took a step back, the stick in my hand feeling laughably inadequate. The System chimed again. Threat Detected: Dire Wolf (Juvenile) Recommendations: Utilize fire as a deterrent or engage carefully. ¡°Engage carefully?¡± I snapped. ¡°With what? My charming personality?¡± The wolf growled louder, stepping closer. Its muscles tensed, and I could tell it was sizing me up. My heart pounded in my chest. My instincts screamed at me to run, but I knew better. Turning my back would only make me prey. Instead, I grabbed a burning branch from the fire, holding it out in front of me like a torch. The wolf hesitated, its eyes narrowing as the flames flickered. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s right,¡± I said, my voice shaking. ¡°Not so tough now, huh?¡± It didn¡¯t back off completely, but it stopped advancing. I took a step forward, waving the branch. The wolf snarled, snapping its jaws, but it retreated a few paces, its yellow eyes still locked on me. The System chimed again. First Combat Initiated Objective: Survive the encounter. Reward: +25 EXP. ¡°Couldn¡¯t have mentioned that earlier?¡± I muttered, sweat dripping down my brow. The wolf circled, its movements slow and deliberate. It was testing me, waiting for an opening. I held the branch tighter, the heat licking at my fingers. My mind raced, searching for a plan, but all I could think about was keeping that thing away from me. The wolf lunged. I swung the branch wildly, the flames catching it across the face. It yelped, pulling back with a sharp growl, but the fire had done its job. I didn¡¯t stop to think. I thrust the branch toward it again, forcing it to back up farther. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the wolf turned and bolted into the trees, its growls fading into the night. I stood there, chest heaving, the burning branch still clutched in my hand. My arms trembled, and I dropped the branch back into the fire, letting it settle with a hiss. The System chimed one more time. Quest Completed: First Combat Reward: +25 EXP. Level Up! The notification hovered in front of me, but I barely processed it. My legs gave out, and I sank to the ground, my back against the tree. I was alive. Somehow. The fire crackled softly, its light feeling a little less fragile now. I stared at the glowing screen in front of me, my breath finally starting to steady. ¡°Alright,¡± I muttered. ¡°Let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve got for me now.¡± Chapter Fourteen: A Lesson in Survival The glowing screen hovered in front of me, its soft light almost soothing after the chaos of the fight. I was still slumped against the tree, my breath slowing, though my body refused to relax. Level Up! Congratulations, Adventurer! You have reached Level 2. Benefits Unlocked: I blinked, rereading the words. It sounded promising, but it also left me with a dozen questions. ¡°Inventory?¡± I muttered. ¡°Where the hell is that supposed to be?¡± I sat up straighter, my muscles protesting as I glanced around the clearing. Nothing had appeared¡ªnot in my hands, not on the ground. The firelight cast flickering shadows on the trees, but there wasn¡¯t a sign of anything new. The screen shifted, displaying my stats. Current Stats: Stat Points Available: +3. I stared at the list, weighing my options. Strength and Endurance both seemed like solid choices¡ªafter all, the last fight had left me feeling painfully outmatched. But Agility was already my highest stat, and boosting it further might give me an edge in speed and reflexes. After a moment¡¯s hesitation, I distributed the points: +2 to Endurance and +1 to Strength. Updated Stats: The faint warmth that followed felt almost like a reassuring pat on the back. I flexed my hands experimentally. I didn¡¯t feel stronger exactly, but I also didn¡¯t feel as drained as before. The next notification appeared. Innate Race Perk Unlocked: Indomitable Human Spirit: When faced with overwhelming odds, Humans gain temporary boosts to Endurance and Willpower, allowing them to push through dire situations. I read it twice, a faint smile tugging at my lips. ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll take it,¡± I muttered. The screen shifted again. Class Perk Unlocked: Natural Tracker: As a Ranger, your keen senses allow you to identify tracks, clues, and disturbances in the environment more effectively. ¡°That¡¯ll come in handy,¡± I murmured, though the thought of tracking anything in these woods wasn¡¯t exactly appealing right now. Finally, the next notification appeared. Perk Selection Available:
  1. Quick Hands: Gain faster item usage and trap-setting speed.
  2. Focused Aim: Increase accuracy with ranged weapons.
  3. Survival Instinct: Detect nearby threats more easily.
I thought about the fight with the dire wolf. If I¡¯d had even a few seconds of warning, it might¡¯ve gone a lot smoother. ¡°Survival Instinct,¡± I said, and the screen flickered in acknowledgment.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. The glow faded slightly, leaving one final message. Basic Survival Kit: Now accessible in your Inventory. The word Inventory blinked faintly, and I frowned. ¡°How do I even¡­?¡± I reached out tentatively, poking at the air where the word hovered. To my surprise, a new screen popped up, displaying a grid with a handful of icons. There it was. A small, box-shaped icon labeled Basic Survival Kit. ¡°Alright,¡± I muttered, tapping the icon. Nothing happened. I tapped it again, harder this time, like it was a stubborn app on my phone. Still nothing. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me,¡± I grumbled, swiping at the screen in frustration. Finally, a faint chime sounded, and the box materialized on the ground in front of me. The kit was small, about the size of a lunchbox, made of sturdy leather with metal buckles. It looked well-worn, like something that had seen its fair share of use. I reached for it eagerly, flipping open the buckles, only to find that they didn¡¯t budge. ¡°Oh, come on,¡± I muttered, tugging at the straps. The System chimed again, another screen appearing in front of me. Tutorial: To open secured kits, apply light pressure to the center emblem. I blinked at the instructions, glancing down at the small circular emblem stamped into the leather lid. ¡°You couldn¡¯t have just said that earlier?¡± Pressing down on the emblem, I heard a soft click, and the buckles released with ease. Inside, the kit was packed with an assortment of items: I let out a breath I hadn¡¯t realized I¡¯d been holding. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was enough to survive. The fire crackled softly behind me as I sat cross-legged on the forest floor, inspecting each item carefully. ¡°Guess I¡¯ve got my work cut out for me,¡± I muttered. Closing the kit, I placed it beside me and leaned back against the tree. For now, the night seemed quiet, but I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that it wouldn¡¯t stay that way for long. Whatever this world had in store, I¡¯d face it one step at a time. And for the first time, I didn¡¯t feel completely unprepared. I leaned back against the tree, exhaustion settling over me like a heavy blanket. The fire crackled softly, its light casting long shadows across the clearing. I was just starting to feel the tension drain from my shoulders when another chime rang out. ¡°Now what?¡± I muttered, sitting up as a glowing notification appeared in front of me. New Items Available in Inventory. I groaned, rubbing the back of my neck. ¡°Inventory again, huh? Great. That was so easy the first time.¡± I stared at the faintly glowing word, willing it to respond. Nothing. ¡°Alright,¡± I said aloud. ¡°Let¡¯s try this again.¡± I swiped at the air, tapped at it, even tried miming a pull gesture like opening a drawer. Still nothing. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me,¡± I muttered, frustration bubbling up. I clenched my fists and took a deep breath. ¡°Focus, Connor. It¡¯s not rocket science. Just think.¡± I closed my eyes for a moment, picturing the Inventory screen in my mind. When I opened them again, the grid reappeared, faintly shimmering in front of me. ¡°Well, would you look at that,¡± I said, half laughing. ¡°Maybe I am getting the hang of this.¡± Inside the grid, new icons had appeared. A bow, a quiver of arrows, and what looked like a bundle of clothing were neatly arranged next to the basic survival kit. I tapped one of the icons¡ªthe bow¡ªand a soft chime sounded. A moment later, the bow materialized in front of me, lying on the ground. It was simple but well-crafted, the wood polished and sturdy, the string taut and ready. ¡°Not bad,¡± I muttered, picking it up and testing the tension of the string. Next, I tapped the quiver. Thirty arrows appeared beside the bow, their shafts straight and their fletchings clean. ¡°Okay, this is actually kind of cool,¡± I said, a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. I moved on to the bundle of clothing. When it appeared, I saw it was a set of basic leather armor¡ªworn but serviceable. A hunting knife and a small trapper kit were tucked neatly inside the bundle. ¡°This¡¯ll do,¡± I said, running my fingers over the rough leather. I inspected the trapper kit briefly¡ªsnares, tripwires, and a few small tools for setting traps. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was better than nothing. Placing everything carefully beside me, I leaned back against the tree once more. The night was still dark and full of unknowns, but now I wasn¡¯t just a lost delivery driver. I was armed. And I was ready. Chapter Fifteen: The Rangers Haven The rain hammered against the roof of my lean-to, a relentless drumming that drowned out the usual sounds of the forest. The shelter wasn¡¯t perfect¡ªwater dripped through here and there, soaking patches of the dirt floor¡ªbut it was better than nothing. It was mine, and for now, it was enough. I sat near the entrance, my legs crossed and my hunting knife resting on my lap. The fire just outside the lean-to sputtered in the rain, but the stone ring I¡¯d built around it kept it from going out completely. I let out a slow breath, leaning back against one of the sturdy wooden beams. It had taken me two full days to gather the materials and build this thing, and I still couldn¡¯t believe I¡¯d managed to pull it off. It started when I¡¯d stumbled on the Ranger Buildings tab in the System Menu. The moment I¡¯d tapped it, a glowing blueprint appeared in front of me, showing the outline of a simple lean-to with clear labels for the materials I needed. Logs, grass thatch, sturdy branches. The System had made it easier than it should¡¯ve been, highlighting patches of grass and fallen trees like a navigation app. Even so, the work had been grueling. By the time I¡¯d gathered everything and followed the blueprint step by step, my hands were raw, my arms ached, and I had a newfound appreciation for people who built anything by hand. But seeing it come together¡ªwatching the glowing blueprint solidify piece by piece¡ªhad been worth it. Now, sitting inside the finished structure, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a swell of pride. It wasn¡¯t just a shelter. It was proof that I could survive out here. The fire crackled softly outside, its light casting flickering shadows across the clearing. My gaze drifted to the hunting knife on my lap, its blade glinting faintly. I thought back to the wolf¡ªthe yellow-eyed predator that had nearly ended me. The fire had been enough to scare it off that time, but what about next time? What if it wasn¡¯t just a wolf? I clenched my jaw, the weight of the question settling over me like the damp chill of the air. That was when my mind wandered to a name I hadn¡¯t thought of in years. ¡°Skyrim,¡± I muttered, the word barely louder than the rain. The memories came back all at once. Countless late nights spent sneaking through dungeons, a bow in hand, picking off enemies one by one. No matter how many times I started a new game, I always ended up playing the same way: stealth archer. I chuckled softly, shaking my head. It was a running joke in the gaming world, how overpowered stealth archers were. The kind of build that let you clear an entire room without ever being seen, reducing bosses to nothing but pincushions from the shadows. But it worked. Every time. ¡°Maybe that¡¯s the answer,¡± I murmured, staring at the bow propped up in the corner of the lean-to. ¡°Stay quiet, stay smart, and strike from a distance.¡± I picked up the bow, running my fingers over the smooth wood. It wasn¡¯t anything fancy¡ªjust a simple weapon, as basic as they came¡ªbut it felt right in my hands. A plan began to take shape in my mind. If I was going to survive this world, I needed to stop reacting to it and start preparing for it. That meant leveling up, honing my skills, and making the most of everything the System had to offer. It wasn¡¯t just a game anymore. But the strategies I¡¯d spent years perfecting? Those were as real as anything. I tightened my grip on the bow, a flicker of determination sparking in my chest. ¡°Alright, Skyrim logic,¡± I said, a faint smile tugging at my lips. ¡°Let¡¯s see if you work in the real world.¡± The forest had become my proving ground. Every day was a new challenge: hunting, foraging, completing tasks the System threw my way. Each quest was straightforward, but the forest didn¡¯t make anything easy. The more I ventured into its depths, the more it felt alive¡ªwatching, waiting to see if I was worth its secrets.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Quest: Harvest Wild Game. Reward: +50 EXP. Quest: Gather Rare Herbs. Reward: +30 EXP. Quest: Eliminate Forest Vermin. Reward: +75 EXP. The first hunts were laughable disasters. My aim was shaky, my steps too loud, and every animal within miles probably saw me as more of a clumsy intruder than a predator. But after a few days, something clicked. A rabbit here. A grouse there. Before long, the fire pit outside my lean-to was regularly hosting meals of game, and my hunting knife was earning its keep. The lean-to itself, my first real victory, was still standing strong. The System¡¯s blueprint had been a lifesaver, guiding me through the process of gathering logs, branches, and grass thatch to assemble a shelter that could withstand the rain and cold. The System Menu had become my constant companion. Each day, I dug deeper into its functions, learning what it could do and what I could unlock if I kept pushing myself. From level 3 onward, I poured every single stat point into Agility. Speed and precision were my edge, and I doubled down on that edge every chance I got. Level 3¨C10 Stat Allocation: Final Agility: 25. I moved faster, quieter, more precisely than ever before. Climbing trees, navigating uneven terrain, lining up a shot¡ªit all felt natural now, like my body had adapted to the demands of this world. The night I hit level 10, the forest was eerily still. The rain had stopped, leaving the air cool and damp, and the moon cast pale beams through the canopy above. I returned to my lean-to after another successful hunt, the weight of a small deer slung across my shoulders. Dropping the game outside the shelter, I sat near the fire pit and let myself breathe for a moment. The System chimed softly, and a glowing notification appeared. Congratulations, Adventurer! You have reached Level 10. I sat up straighter, my pulse quickening as a flood of new messages filled my vision. Spellcasting Unlocked for Rangers. The first screen displayed a list of spells, simple but versatile:
  1. Hunter¡¯s Mark: Tag an enemy to increase damage and track their location. (Mana Cost: 5)
  2. Eagle Eye: Enhance your vision for precise long-distance shots. (Mana Cost: 10)
  3. Camouflage Veil: Cloak yourself in a shimmer, blending into your surroundings. (Mana Cost: 8)
The next message was even better. Major Perk Unlocked: Shadow Stalker. You are nearly invisible in darkness and shadow, and your first attack from stealth deals double damage. I let out a low whistle. ¡°Now that¡¯s what I¡¯m talking about.¡± Before I could savor it, another screen popped up. Choose One Additional Perk:
  1. Echo Reflex: Briefly rewind time by one second to correct a mistake or avoid danger. (Cooldown: 2 minutes.)
  2. Temporal Snare: Set a trap that slows enemies caught within its radius. (Cooldown: 10 minutes.)
  3. Clockwork Precision: Your movements and attacks are unnervingly accurate during critical moments, granting a temporary boost to Agility. (Activation: 3 times per day.)
I stared at the list, my mind racing. The first option¡ªEcho Reflex¡ªcaught my attention immediately. One second wasn¡¯t much, but in the middle of a fight, it could be the difference between life and death. Temporal Snare sounded useful for controlling enemies, while Clockwork Precision promised devastating bursts of accuracy. After a moment¡¯s thought, I chose Echo Reflex. A faint warmth spread through my chest as the System confirmed my decision. The final notification appeared with a soft glow. Ranger Kit Unlocked. The kit materialized on the ground in front of me, its leather bindings pristine and faintly glowing. I leaned forward, flipping it open to reveal its contents: I ran my fingers over the bow, testing the string¡¯s tension. It felt natural in my hands, like an extension of myself. The quiver was light but packed with enough arrows to keep me hunting for weeks. The cloak, when draped over my shoulders, seemed to almost disappear into the shadows. I couldn¡¯t stop the grin spreading across my face. This wasn¡¯t just survival anymore. This was preparation. I stepped out of the lean-to, the cloak swirling softly around me as I slung the bow over my shoulder. The forest was alive with the sounds of night¡ªchirping crickets, the faint rustle of leaves, the distant hoot of an owl. Nocking one of the new arrows, I drew the bowstring and stared into the trees. The world seemed sharper now, more vibrant, as if I could feel every movement in the forest. With my newfound skills, weapons, and perks, I wasn¡¯t just surviving anymore. I was thriving. ¡°Alright,¡± I murmured, my voice quiet but steady. ¡°Let¡¯s see what else this world has for me.¡± And with that, I disappeared into the shadows. Chapter Sixteen: A First Job Rachel Turner The guildhall was alive with noise¡ªbooming laughter, clinking mugs, and the occasional bark of a dog. Adventurers crowded around long wooden tables, their voices echoing off the stone walls as they shared stories and tall tales of their exploits. I stood near the entrance, trying not to look like I didn¡¯t belong. My leather jerkin and sturdy boots were practical enough, but compared to the heavily armored warriors and robed mages in the room, I looked like someone¡¯s apprentice who had wandered in by mistake. ¡°Alright, Rachel,¡± I whispered to myself, forcing my feet to move. ¡°Just act normal. You¡¯ve got this.¡± I made my way to the counter where a bored-looking clerk sat flipping through a ledger. His clothes were plain, his face lined with the kind of exhaustion that only dealing with adventurers all day could bring. ¡°Hi,¡± I said, offering what I hoped was a confident smile. ¡°I¡¯d like to join the guild.¡± The clerk glanced up, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked me over. ¡°You want to join the guild?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I said, straightening my posture. ¡°I¡¯m a Duelist. Blade Dancer subclass.¡± The words hung in the air like a bad joke. The clerk¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°You¡¯re a what now?¡± ¡°A Duelist,¡± I repeated. ¡°Subclass: Blade Dancer.¡± He stared at me, his confusion slowly morphing into something closer to pity. ¡°Never heard of it. What¡¯s a subclass supposed to be?¡± ¡°It¡¯s part of the System,¡± I said, gesturing vaguely as if that would explain everything. ¡°You know, stats, quests, perks¡­¡± The room around me seemed to quiet. Adventurers at nearby tables turned to look, their conversations dying down as my words sank in.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°What the hell is she talking about?¡± someone muttered. ¡°She¡¯s cracked, that¡¯s what,¡± another said, chuckling. The clerk leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter. ¡°Let me get this straight. You¡¯re saying you¡¯ve got some¡­ invisible system? Telling you what to do?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I said, my voice faltering slightly. He snorted. ¡°Lady, if you¡¯re trying to get attention, there are better ways to do it. No one¡¯s got time for whatever nonsense you¡¯re peddling.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not making it up,¡± I said defensively. ¡°It¡¯s real. I can see it.¡± ¡°Uh-huh,¡± he said, his tone dripping with skepticism. ¡°Tell you what, newbie. I¡¯ll humor you. You want to join the guild? Fine. We¡¯ll start you at Bronze Rank. You can prove your¡­ ¡®system¡¯ works by not dying on your first job.¡± He scribbled something in his ledger and slid a small bronze badge across the counter. ¡°Congratulations,¡± he said dryly. ¡°You¡¯re officially the lowest of the low. Don¡¯t let it go to your head.¡± I pinned the badge to my jerkin, trying to ignore the heat rising in my cheeks. The clerk motioned toward the noticeboard on the far wall, a massive wooden slab covered in papers, each one scrawled with a quest. I approached it cautiously, aware of the stares following me as I moved. The quests were marked with symbols to indicate their rank¡ªbronze, silver, gold. The bronze quests were less than inspiring. Quest: Gather Five Medicinal Herbs Reward: 10 Silver Quest: Deal with Local Vermin Problem Reward: 8 Silver Quest: Escort Farmer¡¯s Cart to Nearby Village Reward: 5 Silver I reached for the herb-gathering quest, but hesitated. The thought of wandering aimlessly in the forest, trying to tell one plant from another, didn¡¯t exactly scream ¡°heroic adventurer.¡± Instead, I grabbed the cart escort quest. It seemed straightforward enough, and maybe it would give me a chance to see more of the area. As I turned to leave, I caught snippets of conversation from the adventurers at the nearby tables. ¡°Poor thing,¡± one of them said, loud enough for me to hear. ¡°Probably thinks she¡¯s in a fairy tale.¡± ¡°Bronze Rank won¡¯t last a week,¡± another muttered. I clenched my jaw, ignoring them as I headed for the door. Outside, the sun was dipping low, casting the village in warm orange light. I unfolded the quest paper, scanning the details. The farmer¡¯s cart was set to leave from the eastern gate at sunrise, bound for a village a few miles away. The instructions were clear: keep the cart safe, help unload at the destination, and return with confirmation of delivery. Simple enough. I adjusted the rapier at my side and squared my shoulders. ¡°They think I¡¯m crazy,¡± I muttered, ¡°but I¡¯ll show them.¡± And with that, I headed off to prepare for the job. Chapter Seventeen: Trial by Fire The eastern gate was quiet when I arrived at sunrise, the first rays of light casting long shadows across the dirt road. A weathered cart loaded with sacks of grain and crates of vegetables stood waiting, its wheels creaking faintly as the farmer adjusted the reins on his tired-looking mule. He was an older man, his face lined from years in the sun, with a straw hat pulled low over his graying hair. When he saw me approach, his expression turned skeptical. ¡°You the guard the guild sent?¡± he asked, his voice gruff. ¡°Yes,¡± I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. ¡°Rachel Turner. Bronze Rank.¡± The farmer grunted, his eyes flicking over me and the rapier at my side. ¡°You look barely older than my youngest, and she¡¯s got no business guarding a cart, either.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll do my best,¡± I said, forcing a smile. He muttered something under his breath, climbing onto the cart¡¯s bench. ¡°Well, get on with it, then. Don¡¯t have all day.¡± I nodded, falling into step beside the cart as the mule started forward. The road was peaceful at first, winding through rolling fields and small patches of trees. The cart creaked along steadily, the mule plodding at a leisurely pace. The farmer was quiet, and I didn¡¯t mind. My thoughts were already swirling, replaying the looks and muttered words from the guildhall the day before. They thought I was crazy¡ªor worse, completely out of my depth. I tightened my grip on the rapier¡¯s hilt, glancing around at the empty road. Prove them wrong, Rachel. The peaceful silence stretched on as we approached the edge of the forest. The trees loomed ahead, their shadows dark and inviting, the canopy thick enough to block out most of the morning light. The cart rolled forward, the sound of the wheels crunching against the dirt seeming louder as the forest swallowed the road. That¡¯s when I saw it. A red marker appeared in my vision, hovering just above the treeline. I blinked, trying to make sense of it, and then another marker appeared, followed by two more. Bandit - Level 3 Bandit - Level 3 Bandit - Level 3 Bandit - Level 3 My heart sank. ¡°Stop!¡± I hissed, grabbing the cart¡¯s edge. The farmer frowned, pulling back on the reins. ¡°What is it?¡± Before I could answer, they stepped out of the shadows¡ªfour men dressed in patched leather armor, their weapons crude but sharp. One carried a rusted sword, another a dagger, and the two in the back held bows, arrows already nocked. ¡°Well, well,¡± the one with the sword said, a grin spreading across his dirt-streaked face. ¡°Looks like we¡¯ve got ourselves a delivery.¡± ¡°Keep the goods and let us go,¡± I said, my voice steady despite the fear crawling up my spine. The bandit laughed. ¡°Oh, we¡¯ll keep the goods, alright. And we¡¯ll see what else you¡¯ve got to offer.¡± The farmer cursed under his breath, reaching for something under the bench. I stepped in front of him, drawing my rapier. The bandit¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Looks like the little bird wants to play hero.¡± The fight started fast. Too fast. I lunged forward, aiming for the grinning bandit with the sword. He parried sloppily, his movements slow enough for me to dart past him and slash across his arm. He cursed, backing up as blood dripped down his sleeve. -6 HP The number flashed above his head, and for a split second, I felt a rush of confidence. That confidence disappeared the moment the other three closed in. The dagger-wielding bandit darted toward me, his blade catching the sunlight as it slashed toward my side. I twisted away, the edge grazing my jerkin, and countered with a quick thrust that sent him stumbling back. -8 HP An arrow zipped past my shoulder, too close for comfort, and I spun around to see the two archers nocking their next shots. ¡°Damn it,¡± I hissed, trying to move faster than my body wanted to. The sword bandit lunged again, his blade heavy and wild. I deflected it with my rapier, but the impact jarred my arm, making my grip falter. Before I could recover, the dagger bandit was on me, his blade catching me across the arm. -10 HP A sharp sting shot up my arm, and a red warning appeared in the corner of my vision: HP Low. Seek Healing Immediately. Panic set in. My breaths came faster, and my movements became sloppy. The sword bandit kicked at my knee, sending me staggering back, and the archers loosed another volley. One arrow missed entirely, but the other grazed my leg, leaving a shallow cut.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. I swung wildly, more to keep them at bay than to land a hit, but it wasn¡¯t enough. They were closing in, and I was out of time. And then I saw him. A shadow moved in the trees, perched on one of the thick branches. His silhouette was barely visible, but his eyes glowed faintly, catching the light like embers. The bandits froze, their attention snapping toward the figure. ¡°What the hell is that?¡± one of them muttered, his voice shaky. The shadow figure didn¡¯t answer. He didn¡¯t move. He just watched. The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves in the wind. The two archers, their bows now trained on the shadowy figure in the treetops, moved with tense precision. ¡°Don¡¯t even think about it!¡± one of the bandits shouted, his voice shaking as he drew the string back. The shadow didn¡¯t flinch. Before the bandit could release his arrow, two arrows flew from the treetops with uncanny speed, their fletching barely visible as they sliced through the air. Both archers staggered backward, the arrows burying themselves deep into their chests. Blood spilled from their mouths as they collapsed onto the ground, lifeless. The remaining two bandits screamed in rage, their weapons trembling in their hands. ¡°Get down here, coward!¡± one of them yelled, his voice cracking. The shadow figure moved. Effortlessly, he dropped from the tree, landing in the clearing with a practiced ease that made him look more predator than man. The faint glow of his eyes dimmed as he stepped into the firelight, revealing his face. It was a man, young but weathered, with messy brown hair and sharp eyes that seemed to take in everything. He was dressed in muted greens and browns, his cloak blending perfectly with the forest around him. He stood there, calm and composed, as if the two bandits screaming at him were nothing more than a mild inconvenience. ¡°This is my forest,¡± he said, his voice low but steady. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have come here.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll pay for that!¡± one of the bandits roared, charging forward with his sword raised. The man didn¡¯t move until the last second. Then, in one smooth motion, he reached for his hunting dagger. His posture shifted, his body language changing as if he had activated some unseen switch.
Ability Activated: Predator¡¯s Instinct Hand-to-hand and melee combat effectiveness significantly increased for 60 seconds.
The charging bandit swung wildly, but the man ducked under the blade, his movements fluid and precise. He drove his dagger into the bandit¡¯s side, twisting it before shoving him back with brutal efficiency. The second bandit hesitated but screamed and lunged forward with his dagger. The man sidestepped easily, grabbing the bandit¡¯s wrist and slamming his elbow into the bandit¡¯s face. Blood sprayed as the bandit¡¯s nose broke, and he stumbled back, clutching his face. Without hesitation, the man spun and delivered a sharp kick to the bandit¡¯s knee, dropping him to the ground. The first bandit, still clutching his side, tried to recover, but the man was faster. He moved in close, slamming his palm into the bandit¡¯s wrist to disarm him, then drove the hilt of his dagger into the bandit¡¯s temple. The bandit collapsed in a heap, unconscious. The second bandit groaned on the ground, trying to crawl away, but the man stepped forward and pressed the blade of his dagger to the bandit¡¯s neck. ¡°This is your last warning,¡± the man said coldly. ¡°Run.¡± The bandit didn¡¯t need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet and bolted into the forest, leaving his fallen comrades behind. The man straightened, wiping the blood from his dagger before turning to face me and the farmer. I stared at him, my mouth dry and my heart racing. ¡°You okay?¡± he asked, his tone softening as he looked at me. ¡°Who¡­ who are you?¡± I managed to stammer. He hesitated, his eyes scanning my face before settling on my rapier. ¡°Connor,¡± he said. ¡°Connor Hayes. And you¡¯re lucky I was here.¡± The farmer finally found his voice, stepping forward cautiously. ¡°You¡¯re not from around here, are you?¡± Connor gave a faint smile, almost amused. ¡°Not exactly.¡± He turned his attention back to me, his gaze sharp but not unkind. ¡°You¡¯re not from around here, either, are you?¡± I opened my mouth to respond but stopped. How could he know that? Connor¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable. ¡°We¡¯ll talk later. For now, let¡¯s get this cart moving before anyone else shows up.¡± I nodded, still too stunned to argue, and helped the farmer steady the mule as Connor retrieved his arrows from the fallen bandits. Whoever this Connor was, one thing was clear: he was dangerous. And maybe, just maybe, he was exactly what I needed to survive. The farmer started muttering under his breath as we got the cart moving again, the mule trudging forward reluctantly. At first, I couldn¡¯t make out what he was saying, but as the adrenaline of the fight wore off and the silence stretched, his words grew louder. ¡°This is what they send?¡± he grumbled, shaking his head. ¡°A Bronze Rank with a fancy stick? Almost got us both killed!¡± I felt my cheeks flush, my grip tightening on the rapier at my side. ¡°I tried my best,¡± I said, though the words felt weak even as I said them. ¡°Your best nearly got me skewered,¡± the farmer snapped, his face red with frustration. ¡°I hired a guard, not some¡ªsome child playing adventurer!¡± I opened my mouth to respond, but Connor cut in before I could. ¡°Enough,¡± he said, his tone calm but firm. ¡°She held her ground. That¡¯s more than most people would¡¯ve done.¡± The farmer huffed but didn¡¯t argue further, his muttering falling to a sullen silence. Connor turned to me, his sharp eyes softening slightly as he reached into a pouch at his side. He pulled out a small glass vial filled with a glowing green liquid. ¡°Here,¡± he said, holding it out. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± I asked, taking the vial hesitantly. ¡°Healing remedy,¡± Connor said. ¡°Made it myself. Drink it.¡± I glanced at the vial, then at him, and finally at the red warning still flashing in the corner of my vision: HP Low. Seek Healing Immediately. Without another word, I uncorked the vial and downed the liquid in one go. It tasted sharp and herbal, like chewing on mint leaves mixed with something bitter, but the effect was immediate. Warmth spread through my body, the pain in my arm and leg fading as if it had never been there. The red warning disappeared, replaced by a new message: HP Restored: Full Health. ¡°Better?¡± Connor asked. I nodded, still processing the sudden relief. ¡°Yeah. Thanks.¡± He gave a small nod, then turned his attention back to the road. The rest of the trip was uneventful. The forest gave way to open fields as we approached the village, its stone walls and thatched roofs coming into view against the orange glow of the setting sun. When we arrived, the farmer pulled the cart to a stop near the market square, hopping down with surprising agility for his age. He muttered a curt ¡°wait here¡± before heading toward a merchant stall, leaving Connor and me by the cart. ¡°You alright?¡± Connor asked after a moment. ¡°I¡¯ll live,¡± I said, glancing at him. ¡°Though I¡¯m pretty sure that farmer hates me.¡± Connor smirked faintly. ¡°Farmers tend to hate anyone they think isn¡¯t useful. Don¡¯t take it personally.¡± Before I could respond, the farmer returned, shoving a small pouch of coins into Connor¡¯s hand. ¡°Here,¡± he said gruffly. ¡°For saving my hide. And hers.¡± He jerked his thumb in my direction, his tone making it clear he didn¡¯t think I deserved much credit. Connor accepted the pouch without comment, watching as the farmer climbed back onto the cart and drove it toward a nearby stable. ¡°Well,¡± I said, exhaling slowly. ¡°That was humiliating.¡± Connor glanced at me, his expression unreadable for a moment before he spoke. ¡°You need a drink.¡± ¡°What?¡± I blinked, caught off guard. ¡°There¡¯s a tavern not far from here,¡± he said, motioning toward the village center. ¡°Come on. I¡¯ll buy you a round.¡± I hesitated, the weight of the day pressing down on me. A drink didn¡¯t sound like a bad idea, especially after the disaster this escort quest had been. ¡°Alright,¡± I said finally. ¡°Lead the way.¡± Connor smirked faintly and started walking, his cloak trailing behind him. I followed, still trying to wrap my head around the strange turn my day had taken. Who was this guy? And how the hell had he shown up exactly when I needed him most? One thing was certain: I wasn¡¯t letting him out of my sight. Chapter Eighteen: A Quiet Place Connor Hayes The tavern wasn¡¯t much to look at, but it didn¡¯t have to be. The building was old, with walls of uneven stone and a roof patched with mismatched shingles. A wooden sign above the door swung lazily in the breeze, its paint faded to the point where the name¡ªsomething like ¡°The Rusty Kettle¡±¡ªwas barely legible. It was perfect. I pushed the door open, the creak of the hinges blending with the low hum of conversation and the occasional clink of tankards. The smell of roasted meat and stale ale hit me immediately, a familiar mix that felt oddly comforting. Rachel followed close behind, her steps hesitant as she glanced around the room. It wasn¡¯t crowded¡ªjust a handful of patrons scattered at tables near the fireplace, their conversations low and murmured. A stout barkeep stood behind the bar, polishing a mug with the kind of focus that suggested he¡¯d been doing it for years. I headed for a corner table, motioning for Rachel to follow. ¡°Is it always this quiet?¡± she asked as she slid into the seat across from me. ¡°Depends on the time of day,¡± I said, leaning back in my chair. ¡°And the kind of trouble the locals are dealing with.¡± She gave me a skeptical look but didn¡¯t press further. The barkeep approached, his face lined with age but his movements steady. He looked me over, his eyes lingering on the bow slung across my back before shifting to Rachel. ¡°What¡¯ll it be?¡± he asked, his voice gruff but not unfriendly. ¡°Two ales,¡± I said, sliding a few coins from the pouch the farmer had handed me. The barkeep nodded, taking the coins without comment and disappearing back to the bar. Rachel fidgeted in her seat, her fingers drumming against the edge of the table. ¡°You don¡¯t seem like the tavern type,¡± she said after a moment, her tone light but probing. I shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m the type that appreciates a place to sit and a drink that doesn¡¯t taste like river water.¡± She snorted, a small smile breaking through her guarded expression. ¡°Fair enough.¡± The barkeep returned quickly, placing two mugs of ale on the table before retreating to his post. I took a long sip, the bitter taste washing away the dryness in my throat. Rachel stared at her mug for a moment before taking a tentative sip, her nose wrinkling slightly. ¡°Not a fan?¡± I asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ strong,¡± she said, setting the mug down. ¡°I¡¯m more of a wine person.¡± I chuckled softly, taking another sip. ¡°Figures.¡± She shot me a look but didn¡¯t say anything. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied me. ¡°So, are you going to tell me how you ended up saving my ass back there?¡± ¡°Right place, right time,¡± I said, keeping my tone casual. ¡°Uh-huh,¡± she said, clearly not buying it. ¡°And the whole ¡®this is my forest¡¯ bit? What¡¯s that about?¡± I shrugged, setting my mug down. ¡°I¡¯ve been here a while. Long enough to know the lay of the land. Long enough to make it mine.¡± She tilted her head, curiosity flashing in her eyes. ¡°And long enough to pull off those ridiculous shots?¡± A faint smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth. ¡°Practice.¡± She rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her ale. The conversation lapsed into silence for a moment, the sounds of the tavern filling the gap. Rachel¡¯s gaze drifted to the window, her fingers tapping idly against the mug. ¡°You¡¯re not from around here, are you?¡± I asked, breaking the silence. Her eyes snapped back to mine, her expression shifting to something more guarded. ¡°What makes you say that?¡± ¡°The way you talk. The way you fight.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Doesn¡¯t add up.¡± She hesitated, her fingers tightening around the mug. ¡°What if I said the same about you?¡±Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. I smirked, leaning forward slightly. ¡°Fair point.¡± Her lips twitched in a half-smile, but the guarded look in her eyes didn¡¯t fade. ¡°I¡¯m just trying to survive,¡± she said finally, her voice quiet but steady. ¡°Same as you.¡± I nodded, lifting my mug in a small toast. ¡°To survival, then.¡± She clinked her mug against mine, her smile softening just a little. For now, that was enough. Rachel tilted her head, her curiosity obvious. ¡°You said this forest is yours. Did you just¡­ decide that, or is there more to it?¡± I took another sip of my ale, savoring the brief pause before answering. ¡°Depends. You want the truth, or the easy answer?¡± Her lips quirked in a faint smirk. ¡°Truth. Definitely.¡± I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair. ¡°I¡¯m from Kansas.¡± ¡°Kansas,¡± she repeated, like she was trying to fit the word into the picture of this medieval world. ¡°You¡¯re really from Kansas?¡± ¡°Born and raised,¡± I said, leaning back in my chair. ¡°Midwest U.S. Cornfields, tornadoes, you name it. Not exactly the kind of place you¡¯d expect someone to end up¡­ here.¡± She set her mug down, her brow furrowing. ¡°I¡¯m from London. And I thought I was the only one¡­¡± ¡°Trust me, I had the same thought at first,¡± I said. ¡°Until now, I figured I was alone in this.¡± Rachel stared at me, her voice dropping. ¡°And you¡¯ve got the system too? Like, stats, perks, all that?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, nodding. ¡°Ranger class. Got a quick tutorial on the basics after I unlocked it¡ªstats, quests, inventory. It was a lot to take in, but it got me through those first few days.¡± Her jaw dropped slightly. ¡°You got a tutorial?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, smirking faintly. ¡°It wasn¡¯t much, but it explained enough to keep me from getting killed. I take it you didn¡¯t get one?¡± ¡°No!¡± she said, throwing up her hands. ¡°I just woke up in a tavern with a sword and a bunch of stats I barely understood! No tutorial, no guide, nothing!¡± I chuckled softly, taking another sip of ale. ¡°Sounds rough.¡± She glared at me, but there was a flicker of amusement behind it. ¡°And how much have you¡­ figured out? You said you¡¯re a Ranger? What level are you?¡± ¡°Ten,¡± I said simply. Rachel froze, her eyes going wide. She blinked, then glanced upward at what I assumed was her HUD. Her lips parted in shock as her gaze locked onto something only she could see. ¡°Level ten,¡± she repeated, her voice almost a whisper. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, watching her carefully. ¡°Why?¡± Her eyes darted back to me, and she gestured vaguely toward her own HUD. ¡°Because I¡¯m still level one.¡± I couldn¡¯t help it¡ªI laughed. Not a mean laugh, but the kind that bubbles up when someone says something you completely weren¡¯t expecting. ¡°Hey!¡± she said, her cheeks flushing. ¡°It¡¯s not funny!¡± ¡°Sorry,¡± I said, holding up a hand. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ it takes time, alright? You¡¯ll get there. Leveling up isn¡¯t exactly fast in this place.¡± Her glare softened slightly, but the frustration lingered. ¡°So, what, you just¡­ hunted things in the woods until you hit level ten?¡± ¡°Pretty much,¡± I said. ¡°Quests helped. The system throws random ones at you sometimes¡ªhunt this, gather that. It¡¯s not glamorous, but it gets the job done.¡± Rachel leaned back in her chair, her hand rubbing the bridge of her nose. ¡°And here I am, struggling to survive one escort job without getting stabbed to death. Great.¡± ¡°You survived, didn¡¯t you?¡± I pointed out. ¡°And you¡¯ll keep surviving, as long as you stay smart.¡± She didn¡¯t answer right away, her gaze flicking toward the window where the moonlight spilled across the cobbled street outside. When she turned back to me, her expression was more thoughtful. ¡°What¡¯s it like?¡± she asked. ¡°Getting stronger. Unlocking¡­ stuff.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a rush,¡± I admitted. ¡°The first few levels, you barely notice a difference. But then the perks start kicking in, and suddenly, you¡¯re faster, sharper, better. You feel like you can take on anything.¡± Rachel studied me, her eyes narrowing slightly. ¡°And what happens when you run into something you can¡¯t take on?¡± My smirk faded, and I met her gaze evenly. ¡°Then you run. Or you die.¡± The weight of my words hung between us, and for a moment, neither of us said anything. Finally, Rachel exhaled, reaching for her mug. ¡°Guess I¡¯d better start leveling up, then.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the spirit,¡± I said, raising my own mug. She clinked hers against mine, her faint smile softening some of the tension in her face. Maybe, just maybe, I wasn¡¯t the only one who¡¯d figure out how to survive in this world. The faint chime of the System rang in my ears just as I finished my ale, the soft glow of a notification appearing in the corner of my vision. Party Member Added: Rachel Turner Name: Rachel Turner Class: Duelist (Blade Dancer) Level: 1 Health: 100/100 Mana: 50/50 Note: Party members can locate each other using the Map feature. Access unlocked. I blinked, momentarily stunned. Before I could say anything, Rachel sat bolt upright, her eyes wide. ¡°You got that too?¡± she asked, her voice tinged with both curiosity and disbelief. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, nodding. ¡°Guess we¡¯re officially a team now.¡± Rachel frowned, her gaze shifting upward, likely scanning her own HUD. ¡°It says we can find each other on a map¡­ I didn¡¯t even know there was a map.¡± ¡°Neither did I,¡± I admitted. I opened the System Menu and tapped the newly added Map tab. A detailed topographical layout of the area appeared, with markers showing our exact positions¡ªtwo glowing dots close together in the tavern, surrounded by the outline of the village and the sprawling forest beyond. ¡°This is useful,¡± I said, smirking as I studied the screen. Rachel tapped at her HUD, her expression a mix of awe and relief. ¡°It¡¯s like a GPS. Finally, something that makes sense.¡± I chuckled, closing the map and pulling up my inventory. After scrolling past the usual items¡ªarrows, tools, herbs¡ªI found the pouch of coins I¡¯d accumulated over the past few weeks. With a flick of my fingers, I materialized the pouch on the table between us. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Rachel asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Call it a loan,¡± I said, smirking. ¡°Fifty gold coins, some silver, a bit of copper. Enough to keep you alive while you figure things out.¡± Her mouth fell open. ¡°You¡¯re giving me all this? Why?¡± ¡°Because you need it more than I do,¡± I said simply. ¡°I¡¯m doing fine in the forest. You¡¯re starting from scratch.¡± She stared at the pouch, her expression torn between gratitude and disbelief. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know what to say.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t say anything,¡± I said, standing and finishing the last of my ale. Rachel blinked, looking up at me as I slung my bow over my shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m heading back to the forest,¡± I said, adjusting my cloak. ¡°You know where to find me if you need help.¡± ¡°Wait¡ª¡± she started, but I held up a hand, cutting her off. ¡°Good luck, Rachel,¡± I said, smirking faintly. ¡°You¡¯re going to need it.¡± Before she could argue, I turned and walked out of the tavern, the cool night air greeting me as the door swung shut behind me. The forest was calling, and I wasn¡¯t about to keep it waiting. Chapter Nineteen: The Protector Liam Carter The city was a labyrinth of narrow streets and towering stone buildings, the air thick with the mingling scents of baked bread, sewage, and smoke. As I wandered through the crowded thoroughfares, my boots scuffing against uneven cobblestones, I couldn¡¯t shake the gnawing feeling of displacement. The sights and sounds of this world were so different from the city life I¡¯d known back in Sydney. Here, every corner felt like it held secrets, dangers, and possibilities I hadn¡¯t even begun to understand. People bustled past, hawkers shouted about their wares, and the occasional beggar held out a shaking hand, their pleas blending into the constant hum of the city. I had no direction, no plan¡ªjust my shield strapped to my back and the faint hope that walking would clear my head. I turned a corner into a quieter street, the noise of the main market fading behind me. The alley ahead was shadowed, the buildings on either side leaning close enough to almost blot out the late afternoon sun. That was when I heard it¡ªa woman¡¯s voice, sharp and frightened. ¡°Please, just take it and leave me alone!¡± I stopped dead, my hand instinctively reaching for the shield strapped to my back. I moved toward the source of the voice, my footsteps silent against the cobblestones. As I approached the alley¡¯s mouth, I saw them. A woman with dark hair stood against the wall, her back pressed to the cold stone. She clutched a leather satchel to her chest, her wide eyes darting between the four men surrounding her. The bandits were lean and wiry, their clothes dirty and patched. Each of them held a weapon¡ªa dagger here, a short sword there. They looked confident, smug even, like they¡¯d done this a thousand times before. ¡°Smart girl,¡± one of them sneered, yanking the satchel from her hands. ¡°We¡¯ll be taking this. And if you¡¯re lucky, we won¡¯t take anything else.¡± The others laughed, their voices low and cruel. The woman¡ªbarely older than me, maybe late twenties¡ªheld her ground, though fear was etched into every line of her face. ¡°Evelyn,¡± she said suddenly, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. ¡°My name¡¯s Evelyn. If you¡¯re going to rob me, at least have the decency to remember who you¡¯ve wronged.¡± The leader of the group chuckled, slinging the satchel over his shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Evelyn. We¡¯ll remember you.¡± They turned to leave.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. I stepped forward. The first bandit barely had time to register my presence before my shield crashed into his face. The impact sent him sprawling, blood spraying from his broken nose as he crumpled to the ground. The other three spun around, their eyes wide with shock. ¡°Who the hell are you?¡± one of them snarled, raising his dagger. I didn¡¯t answer. I didn¡¯t need to. My shield came up again, deflecting a wild swing from another bandit. With my free hand, I grabbed the hilt of the hunting knife at my side, the blade slipping free with a faint hiss. The second bandit lunged at me, his short sword aimed for my chest. I sidestepped, slamming the edge of my shield into his ribs. He let out a pained grunt, doubling over, and I followed up with a quick thrust of my knife, the blade sinking deep into his side. -20 HP. Fatal wound inflicted. The message flashed in my HUD, but I didn¡¯t have time to process it. The remaining two bandits circled me, their faces twisted with fear and fury. ¡°You¡¯re dead!¡± one of them screamed, rushing at me with his dagger raised. I raised my shield, catching his wrist mid-swing and twisting it sharply. The dagger clattered to the ground as he screamed, and I drove my knife into his chest without hesitation. -25 HP. Fatal wound inflicted. The last bandit hesitated, his eyes darting between me and the bodies of his comrades. ¡°Don¡¯t do it,¡± I said, my voice low and steady. He ignored me, letting out a desperate cry as he charged. I stepped forward, meeting him head-on. My shield caught him square in the face, the force of the blow snapping his head back. Before he could recover, I grabbed him by the collar and drove my knife into his throat. He choked, blood spilling down his front as he staggered and fell. -30 HP. Fatal wound inflicted. The alley was silent again, save for the faint rasp of my breathing. I wiped the blood from my knife on one of the bandits¡¯ shirts before sliding it back into its sheath. The woman¡ªEvelyn¡ªstared at me, her eyes wide and unblinking. ¡°Are you alright?¡± I asked, turning to face her. She nodded slowly, her hands trembling as she adjusted the satchel slung over her shoulder. ¡°I¡­ I think so. Thank you.¡± Her voice was quiet but steady, her gaze flicking between me and the bodies on the ground. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have been out here alone,¡± I said, my tone soft but firm. ¡°I didn¡¯t think¡­¡± She shook her head, her voice trailing off. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. You saved me.¡± I nodded, stepping past her to the alley¡¯s entrance. ¡°The streets aren¡¯t safe after dark. Stick to the main roads, and don¡¯t trust anyone who approaches you.¡± Evelyn hesitated, then gave a faint smile. ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind.¡± With a final glance over my shoulder, I walked away, the weight of the shield on my back feeling heavier than before. As I reached the edge of the alley, Evelyn¡¯s voice cut through the silence. ¡°Wait!¡± she called out, her tone sharp but laced with urgency. I paused, turning just enough to glance over my shoulder. She was standing a few paces behind me, her satchel clutched tightly, her wide eyes fixed on me like I was something out of a storybook. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± she asked, her voice louder now, echoing slightly off the stone walls. For a moment, I considered just walking away. Names didn¡¯t matter here, and I wasn¡¯t looking to make friends. But something in her expression made me hesitate. ¡°Liam,¡± I said finally, my voice steady. ¡°Liam Carter.¡± Her brow furrowed, the name clearly catching her off guard. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ unusual,¡± she murmured, more to herself than to me. ¡°Where are you from?¡± I didn¡¯t answer. Before she could press further, I turned and continued walking, my boots scuffing against the cobblestones. ¡°Wait!¡± she called again, but I didn¡¯t stop. By the time she reached the mouth of the alley, I was gone, disappearing into the crowd of the busy street beyond. Chapter Twenty: The Weight of the Shield The streets were alive again as I stepped out of the shadowed alley and into the city¡¯s chaos. Merchants hawked their wares, children ran laughing between carts, and blacksmiths hammered rhythmically in their forges. It was as if the world had chosen to forget the violence I¡¯d just left behind. But I couldn¡¯t. The weight of my shield seemed heavier with every step, the echoes of the fight replaying in my mind. Each strike, each life ended¡ªit all lingered, an invisible stain that no amount of walking would shake off. Still, I didn¡¯t regret it. Not for a second. They¡¯d made their choice when they picked up those blades. I kept moving, weaving through the crowd without a destination in mind. The smells of roasted meat and fresh bread wafted from market stalls, but I ignored the ache in my stomach. My focus was on the rhythm of my steps, the steady cadence that kept my thoughts from spiraling. A voice broke through the noise, calling after me. ¡°Wait!¡± I recognized it immediately, but I didn¡¯t turn around. ¡°Liam!¡± Evelyn¡¯s voice carried over the din of the marketplace, louder this time. I sighed, slowing my pace just enough for her to catch up. She appeared at my side, her breath coming in short gasps as she clutched the satchel tightly. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to just leave,¡± she said, her tone somewhere between exasperation and gratitude. I shrugged, keeping my eyes on the road ahead. ¡°You were fine. I made sure of it.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not the point,¡± she said, falling into step beside me. ¡°You saved me. I didn¡¯t even get a chance to thank you properly.¡± ¡°You just did,¡± I said flatly, quickening my pace. But she wasn¡¯t letting it go. ¡°Liam Carter,¡± she said, testing the name like it didn¡¯t quite fit in her mouth. ¡°That¡¯s not exactly a local name, is it?¡± I froze for half a beat before forcing myself to keep walking. ¡°What makes you say that?¡± ¡°It¡¯s obvious,¡± she said, sidestepping a cart laden with barrels. ¡°You¡¯re not from here. And you¡¯re definitely not like anyone else I¡¯ve met in this world.¡± I didn¡¯t respond. Instead, I stopped near the edge of the marketplace, letting the noise of the crowd fill the space between us. ¡°Let me guess,¡± she said, stepping in front of me to block my path. ¡°You¡¯re one of us. Like me.¡± Her words hung in the air, sharp and deliberate. I met her gaze, my jaw tightening. ¡°And what exactly are you?¡± Her lips twitched into a faint smile, though it didn¡¯t reach her eyes. ¡°Someone who doesn¡¯t belong here. Someone who woke up with more questions than answers and something called a system telling me how to survive.¡± The corner of my mouth twitched, but I kept my face neutral. ¡°You think we¡¯re the only ones?¡±Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she said, her expression softening. ¡°But I¡¯ve seen enough to know I can¡¯t be the only one. Not anymore.¡± I leaned against a nearby wall, crossing my arms over my chest. ¡°So, what¡¯s your plan, then? You¡¯ve got a system. What are you going to do with it?¡± Her gaze faltered for a moment, her fingers tightening around the strap of her satchel. ¡°I don¡¯t know yet,¡± she admitted. ¡°But I do know I can¡¯t do it alone.¡± ¡°Strength in numbers,¡± I said, the words more to myself than to her. Evelyn nodded, her eyes searching mine. ¡°I¡¯m not asking for much. Just some help figuring this out. We¡¯re both in the same mess, aren¡¯t we?¡± I studied her for a moment, weighing her words. She wasn¡¯t wrong, and she wasn¡¯t weak either. That much was clear from the way she¡¯d held her ground in the alley. But there was something else¡ªsomething guarded in her posture, in the way her eyes darted toward the shadows like she expected them to come alive. ¡°Alright,¡± I said finally. ¡°You¡¯ve got my attention. For now.¡± Her shoulders relaxed slightly, but she didn¡¯t smile. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said quietly. ¡°Don¡¯t thank me yet,¡± I said, pushing off the wall. ¡°You might not like the way I do things.¡± She tilted her head, her curiosity flashing again. ¡°And how do you do things?¡± I didn¡¯t answer right away. Instead, I started walking, the weight of my shield a familiar comfort against my back. ¡°You¡¯ll figure it out,¡± I said over my shoulder. ¡°If you stick around long enough.¡± As we reached the edge of the marketplace, a faint chime echoed in my ears. My steps faltered as a glowing notification appeared in my vision, the soft light standing out against the muted colors of the world around me. Party Member Added: Evelyn Harper Name: Evelyn Harper Class: Warlock (Shadowbound) Level: 1 Health: 80/80 Mana: 120/120 Note: Party members can locate each other using the Map feature. Access unlocked. I glanced at Evelyn, whose wide-eyed expression told me she¡¯d gotten the same message. ¡°You seeing this?¡± I asked, my voice low. She nodded, her gaze flicking between me and some point above her line of sight. ¡°Yeah. Party member¡­ Does that mean we¡¯re stuck together now?¡± ¡°Looks that way,¡± I said, crossing my arms. Evelyn frowned, reaching out toward the air as if swiping through an invisible menu. ¡°It says we can find each other using the map feature. I didn¡¯t even know there was a map.¡± ¡°Neither did I,¡± I admitted, opening the System Menu with a thought. Sure enough, a new Map tab had appeared, and when I tapped it, a detailed topographical layout filled my vision. Two glowing dots marked our locations in the city, along with a few faint icons indicating nearby points of interest. ¡°Well, that¡¯s handy,¡± I said, closing the map. Evelyn lowered her hand, looking more thoughtful than surprised. ¡°It¡¯s like the system is nudging us to work together.¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± I said, shrugging. ¡°Or maybe it just wants to keep track of us.¡± Her expression darkened slightly, but she didn¡¯t argue. After a moment, Evelyn sighed, her shoulders slumping. ¡°Alright, so we¡¯re a party now. What¡¯s our next move?¡± ¡°Money,¡± I said without hesitation. She raised an eyebrow. ¡°Money?¡± ¡°We both need it,¡± I said, gesturing to the worn satchel slung over her shoulder. ¡°For supplies, gear, food. And judging by that alley, neither of us is rolling in gold right now.¡± She glanced at the satchel, her lips pressing into a thin line. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong. But what are we supposed to do? Rob a merchant?¡± ¡°No,¡± I said flatly. ¡°We find work. Legitimate work.¡± Evelyn snorted. ¡°Right, because legitimate work pays so well around here.¡± I ignored the sarcasm, scanning the bustling market. Vendors shouted about fresh produce and handcrafted goods, while tradesmen advertised their services. Somewhere in this chaos, there had to be an opportunity. ¡°Adventurers make money,¡± I said, half to myself. ¡°Yeah, but they also don¡¯t live long,¡± Evelyn pointed out. ¡°Then we find something low risk,¡± I said, my mind already churning. ¡°Merchants hire guards. Farmers need laborers. Maybe there¡¯s a guild offering bounties.¡± ¡°Bounties?¡± Evelyn asked, her tone wary. ¡°For pests,¡± I clarified. ¡°Not people. Rats, wolves, whatever¡¯s causing trouble around here.¡± She folded her arms, her expression skeptical. ¡°And you think that¡¯ll be enough to keep us afloat?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a start,¡± I said. ¡°Unless you¡¯ve got a better idea.¡± She sighed, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s see what we can find. But if we end up chasing rats for a few copper, I¡¯m blaming you.¡± I smirked faintly, already scanning the crowd for anyone who looked like they might need help. ¡°Deal.¡± Together, we set off into the city, two strangers bound by the whims of a system neither of us fully understood. Chapter Twenty-One: Into the Unknown The bounty board outside the guildhall was a mess of crumpled parchment and overlapping notices, most of which looked like they hadn¡¯t been touched in weeks. The jobs ranged from painfully boring¡ªherb gathering, pest control¡ªto downright terrifying, with crudely drawn monsters and skull-shaped warning icons. Evelyn stood next to me, her arms crossed as she scanned the board with a look of mild disgust. ¡°Are all the jobs here this¡­ bleak?¡± ¡°Pretty much,¡± I said, pulling down a notice with a sketch of a goblin on it. Bounty: Goblin Hideout Location: Eastern Woods, approximately two miles outside the city. Objective: Eliminate the goblin threat. Proof of kills required (goblin ears). Reward: 50 silver per goblin. Additional 100 silver for clearing the hideout entirely. Evelyn leaned in to read over my shoulder, her brow furrowing. ¡°Fifty silver per goblin. That doesn¡¯t sound terrible. What¡¯s the catch?¡± ¡°The catch,¡± I said, folding the paper, ¡°is that it¡¯s goblins. Plural. No idea how many.¡± She frowned. ¡°And you¡¯re seriously thinking about this?¡± ¡°It¡¯s better than chasing rats for two copper a tail,¡± I said, tucking the notice into my belt. ¡°Sure,¡± she muttered, glancing back at the board. ¡°But goblins?¡± I gave her a pointed look. ¡°You got a better idea?¡± Evelyn sighed, clearly debating whether or not to argue further. Finally, she threw up her hands. ¡°Fine. Goblins it is. But if this goes sideways, I¡¯m blaming you.¡± ¡°Fair enough,¡± I said with a faint smirk. ¡°Let¡¯s get moving.¡± The road out of the city was quieter than I expected, the clamor of the marketplace fading into the distance as we followed the dirt path toward the eastern woods. The air was cooler here, the breeze carrying the faint scent of damp earth and pine. Evelyn walked beside me, her satchel bouncing lightly against her hip with each step. For a while, neither of us spoke, the silence between us heavy with unspoken questions. Finally, she broke the quiet. ¡°So, Liam Carter,¡± she said, her tone curious but cautious. ¡°What about me?¡± I asked, glancing her way. ¡°Who are you?¡± she asked, shifting the satchel on her shoulder. ¡°Before all this, I mean. Where are you from?¡± I considered brushing it off, but there wasn¡¯t much point. ¡°Sydney,¡± I said finally. ¡°Australia. I worked as a bouncer.¡± Her eyebrows shot up. ¡°A bouncer?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Nightclubs, mostly. Breaking up fights, throwing out drunks, keeping the peace.¡± Evelyn tilted her head, studying me. ¡°That explains a lot, actually.¡± ¡°Does it?¡± I asked, smirking faintly. ¡°You¡¯ve got that whole ¡®stoic protector¡¯ thing going on,¡± she said, gesturing vaguely. ¡°I mean, you jumped into that alley without a second thought.¡± I shrugged, adjusting the strap of my shield. ¡°It¡¯s just what I do.¡± She chuckled softly, shaking her head. ¡°So, what, you just went from tossing out rowdy club-goers to stabbing goblins?¡± ¡°Something like that,¡± I said. ¡°Your turn. Who were you?¡± Her expression grew more thoughtful, her fingers brushing the strap of her satchel. ¡°A librarian,¡± she said after a moment. ¡°In Toronto. I spent most of my days shelving books, hosting events, and dealing with annoying patrons.¡± ¡°A librarian?¡± I asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Yep,¡± she said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. ¡°And I was good at it, too. But somehow, I don¡¯t think cataloging skills are going to help much here.¡± I snorted. ¡°You never know. Goblins might be sticklers for the Dewey Decimal System.¡± Evelyn laughed, the sound light and genuine. ¡°If only.¡± The treeline loomed ahead, the dense canopy casting long shadows across the road. The wind rustled the leaves, the sound carrying a faint sense of foreboding. ¡°So,¡± Evelyn said, breaking the silence. ¡°A bouncer and a librarian walk into a medieval world. What are the odds?¡± ¡°Pretty slim,¡± I said with a smirk. She shook her head, glancing at me. ¡°And yet, here we are.¡± ¡°Here we are,¡± I echoed, my gaze fixed on the path ahead. The forest swallowed the road as we stepped into its shadows, the weight of the bounty pressing down on us both. Goblins, danger, and whatever else this world had in store¡ªwe¡¯d face it. Together. The forest was alive with noise as we moved deeper into the woods. The rustling of leaves, the chirping of unseen birds, and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot created a constant backdrop of sound. But the closer we got to the hideout¡¯s marked location on the map, the quieter it became. Evelyn walked beside me, her expression tense as her fingers fidgeted with the strap of her satchel. ¡°Are we sure about this?¡± she asked, her voice low but sharp. ¡°No,¡± I admitted, keeping my eyes on the path ahead. ¡°But we¡¯re here now. Might as well see it through.¡± She didn¡¯t look convinced, but she didn¡¯t argue. The clearing came into view suddenly, the trees giving way to an open space dominated by a crude wooden palisade. The makeshift walls were jagged and uneven, lashed together with frayed ropes, and the smell of smoke and rot hung heavy in the air. ¡°That¡¯s the hideout?¡± Evelyn asked, wrinkling her nose. ¡°Looks like it,¡± I said, crouching behind a bush and motioning for her to do the same. We scanned the area, but at first, the place seemed deserted. No movement, no sounds¡ªjust the faint crackle of a dying fire near the center of the clearing. ¡°Where are they?¡± Evelyn whispered, her voice tight with unease. Before I could answer, a guttural screech cut through the silence, sending a chill down my spine. They came pouring out of the hideout like a tide of filth¡ªsmall, green-skinned creatures with jagged teeth, crude weapons clutched in their clawed hands. Goblins. ¡°There¡¯s a lot of them,¡± Evelyn muttered, her wide eyes darting between the swarm of creatures. I counted quickly, my chest tightening with each number. ¡°About twenty.¡± ¡°Twenty?¡± she hissed, her voice rising in pitch. ¡°You said this was low risk!¡± ¡°I said it was better than rats,¡± I corrected, gripping the hilt of my sword. Her glare could have melted steel, but we didn¡¯t have time for an argument.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. At the rear of the group, a larger goblin stepped forward. Unlike the others, this one wore scraps of armor and carried a rusted but wickedly sharp axe. A crude crown made of bones and teeth sat atop his head. Goblin Chief - Level 3 The glowing marker above his head confirmed what I¡¯d already guessed¡ªthis guy was in charge. ¡°Well,¡± I said, keeping my voice steady. ¡°There¡¯s our target.¡± Evelyn¡¯s HUD lit up as a notification appeared in the corner of her vision. Judging by the way her face paled, it wasn¡¯t good news. Warning: Party Outnumbered. Caution Advised. ¡°Caution?¡± she muttered, gripping the strap of her satchel like it might keep her grounded. ¡°What part of this looks cautious to you?¡± ¡°Stay calm,¡± I said, watching as the goblins spread out, forming a loose semicircle around the clearing. ¡°We¡¯ve got this.¡± ¡°You keep saying that,¡± she said, her voice trembling. ¡°And yet, I¡¯m not feeling particularly ¡®got.¡¯¡± The goblins stopped advancing, their screeching voices quieting as the chief stepped forward. His yellow eyes glinted with malice, and he raised his axe high, letting out a guttural roar that echoed through the clearing. The smaller goblins responded with their own shrieks and howls, the sound grating and chaotic. ¡°Alright,¡± I said, gripping my shield tightly and glancing at Evelyn. ¡°Here¡¯s the plan: I¡¯ll hold the line. You hit them with whatever you¡¯ve got.¡± ¡°Hit them with what?¡± she asked, panic flashing in her eyes. ¡°Anything,¡± I said. ¡°Magic, rocks, insults¡ªwhatever works.¡± She stared at me for a beat, then exhaled sharply. ¡°Fine. But if we die, I¡¯m haunting you.¡± I smirked faintly, standing and raising my shield. ¡°Deal.¡± The goblins surged forward, a swarm of shrieks, jagged weapons, and wild, glowing eyes. I stepped into their path, my longsword gleaming in the faint light that pierced the forest canopy, and raised my shield. ¡°Evelyn!¡± I shouted, my voice strained over the growing din. ¡°Magic! Now would be good!¡± Behind me, Evelyn stood frozen, her wide eyes darting between the advancing goblins and the glowing icons in her HUD. Her hands trembled as she swiped wildly at the air, trying and failing to activate a spell. ¡°I¡ªI can¡¯t!¡± she stammered, her voice cracking. ¡°I don¡¯t know how!¡± ¡°Figure it out!¡± I barked, stepping forward as the first goblin lunged at me. The creature was quick, its rusted spear darting toward my chest. I blocked it with my shield, the impact rattling my arm, and countered with a sharp thrust of my longsword. The blade bit deep into its chest, and the goblin crumpled with a gurgled screech. Another one darted in from the side, swinging a crude axe. I parried the attack, twisting the goblin¡¯s weapon aside before driving my sword into its gut. Two down. Too many left to go. My HUD flashed red as a jagged blade scraped across my leg, the goblin¡¯s cackle drowned out by the pain shooting up my thigh. HP: 75/100 I gritted my teeth, forcing the pain down as I shoved my shield into the offending goblin¡¯s face, sending it sprawling to the ground. ¡°Evelyn!¡± I roared, cleaving another goblin in half as it charged. ¡°I can¡¯t hold them all off!¡± ¡°I¡¯m trying!¡± she yelled back, her voice thick with panic. ¡°It¡¯s not working¡ªI don¡¯t know what I¡¯m doing!¡± I couldn¡¯t afford to look back at her. My focus was entirely on the wave of goblins pressing in, their jagged weapons flashing in the dim light. I was outnumbered, and even with my shield and sword, I couldn¡¯t last like this forever. Then I felt it¡ªthat familiar surge of warmth and power coursing through me. Divine Smite Activated. Your weapon is imbued with divine energy. Bonus damage applied for the next 10 seconds. The blade of my longsword flared to life, radiant energy cascading down its length. The goblins screeched and recoiled, their beady eyes fixed on the glowing weapon in my hand. I stepped forward, swinging the sword in a wide arc. The first goblin didn¡¯t stand a chance, its body cleaved cleanly in two by the burning light. Another lunged at me, its dagger aiming for my throat. I sidestepped the attack, bringing the glowing blade down on its shoulder and cutting through its torso with ease. The divine energy hummed with every strike, tearing through the goblins like they were nothing. Their chaotic movements slowed, hesitation creeping into their attacks as I pushed them back. For a moment, I thought we might actually win this. Then the chief came. The goblin chief was a hulking brute, towering over the others with a rusted axe in his gnarled hands. Scraps of mismatched armor hung from his bulky frame, and a crude crown of bones sat crooked on his head. Goblin Chief - Level 3 He roared, his guttural voice shaking the air, and charged straight for me. I raised my shield just in time to block the first strike. The impact was like being hit by a battering ram, and the force sent me stumbling back. My HUD blared a warning. HP: 50/100 The chief didn¡¯t give me a chance to recover. His axe came down again, and I barely managed to deflect it with my sword. The vibrations from the clash shot up my arms, making my muscles scream in protest. ¡°Evelyn!¡± I called, desperation creeping into my voice. ¡°I need backup!¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know how!¡± she shouted, her panic clear. ¡°I can¡¯t¡ª¡± The chief¡¯s next swing caught the edge of my shield, tearing it from my grasp and sending it skidding across the ground. I staggered back, raising my sword as the massive goblin advanced. His yellow eyes gleamed with triumph, and he raised his axe high, ready to finish me off. A sudden blast of dark energy slammed into the chief¡¯s chest, knocking him back with a guttural snarl. He stumbled, his attack faltering as black tendrils crackled across his armor. I glanced back to see Evelyn, her hand outstretched and her expression one of wide-eyed disbelief. Wisps of shadowy magic clung to her fingers, fading as she slowly lowered her hand. ¡°I¡­ I did it,¡± she whispered, staring at her trembling fingers. ¡°Good timing,¡± I muttered, lunging forward to grab my shield from the ground. The chief shook off the blast, his glare shifting toward Evelyn. I stepped between them, raising my shield and tightening my grip on my sword. ¡°Stay behind me,¡± I said, my voice firm. Evelyn nodded, shadowy energy flickering to life around her hands again. The goblin chief roared, swinging his massive axe in a wide arc. I ducked under the blow, the blade passing so close I felt the wind whip against my face. ¡°Evelyn, keep him distracted!¡± I yelled, stepping to the side to dodge a smaller goblin charging with a jagged spear. Evelyn raised her hands, shadowy energy flickering to life around her fingers. A blast of dark magic shot out, hitting the chief square in the chest. He stumbled, snarling as he regained his balance, but the attack gave me enough time to regain my footing. Two more goblins rushed at me from opposite sides. My shield caught one, slamming it into the ground with a crunch, while my longsword cleaved through the other in a single radiant strike. Divine Smite Activated. -30 HP. Fatal wound inflicted. The goblin collapsed, its shrieks silenced as the light seared through its chest. The chief lunged at me again, his axe raised high. I met him head-on, my sword glowing as I brought it up to block the strike. The force of the impact sent vibrations through my arms, but I held my ground. ¡°Hit him again!¡± I shouted, gritting my teeth. Evelyn muttered something under her breath, her hands trembling as she launched another blast of shadowy energy. It struck the chief¡¯s side, staggering him long enough for me to press the advantage. I stepped forward, driving my sword into his shoulder. The divine light flared brightly, and the chief let out a guttural roar as the blade sank deep. -40 HP. Fatal wound inflicted. The massive goblin swayed, his weapon slipping from his grasp as he toppled forward into the dirt. The smaller goblins froze, their eyes darting between me and the chief¡¯s lifeless body. One by one, they turned to flee, their shrieks fading into the distance as they disappeared into the forest. The clearing fell silent except for the sound of my labored breathing. My HUD flashed, a chime ringing in my ears. Level Up! You have reached Level 3. I grinned despite the ache in my limbs. ¡°Not bad,¡± I muttered, lowering my sword. ¡°Not bad?¡± Evelyn snapped, her voice shaky. ¡°We just took down twenty goblins and a chief! You¡¯re lucky you didn¡¯t get yourself killed!¡± I turned to face her, noting the faint glow around her as her own HUD lit up. Her eyes widened as she stared at it. Evelyn Harper Level Up! You have reached Level 2. The notification hovered in my vision, the soft chime ringing in my ears. ¡°Wait¡­¡± I muttered, blinking as another notification appeared almost immediately. Level Up! You have reached Level 3. ¡°What the hell?¡± I said aloud, my gaze darting to Liam, who was wiping his sword clean. ¡°You¡¯re leveling up,¡± he said casually, as if that explained anything. ¡°Well, yeah, I figured that out,¡± I shot back, swiping at the glowing Stats button in my HUD. ¡°But two levels? That seems¡­ a bit much.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve got a lot of catching up to do,¡± Liam said with a smirk. I ignored him, focusing on the glowing menu. Stat Points Available: 6 I stared at the screen for a moment, then started distributing points. A warmth spread through me as the changes took effect, and I felt a flicker of energy return to my limbs. New Ability Unlocked: Minor Shadowbind Innate Perk Unlocked: Umbral Surge ¡°What¡¯s Umbral Surge?¡± I murmured, tapping the description. Umbral Surge: Your shadow-based abilities deal 10% more damage and regenerate 5% of your max mana every time you kill an enemy with a spell. A grin tugged at my lips. ¡°Now that¡¯s more like it.¡± Liam sheathed his sword, opening his own HUD. ¡°I got an innate perk too,¡± he said, his tone casual but satisfied. ¡°Iron Resolve. Extra damage resistance when I¡¯m below half health.¡± ¡°That sounds annoyingly perfect for you,¡± I said, rolling my eyes. ¡°Perks of being a Paladin,¡± he said with a smirk. ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± I muttered, dismissing the menus as I glanced around the clearing. The goblin chief¡¯s body lay a few feet away, his crude crown tilted askew. ¡°Alright,¡± Liam said, crouching next to one of the smaller goblins. ¡°Time to finish the job.¡± I frowned. ¡°What do you mean?¡± He pulled out a dagger, gesturing to the goblin¡¯s ear. ¡°Oh.¡± I grimaced, glancing at the dozens of bodies scattered across the clearing. ¡°This is going to be disgusting.¡± Liam shrugged, already slicing into the first goblin¡¯s ear. ¡°Disgusting pays.¡± I sighed, pulling out my own blade. ¡°I better be getting hazard pay for this.¡± Chapter Twenty-Two: Blood and Silver Liam Carter The walk back to the city was quiet. The weight of the burlap sack over my shoulder¡ªthe one filled with freshly severed goblin ears¡ªmade every step feel heavier than it should have. Evelyn trudged beside me, her face pale but set with a determination that was almost impressive. She hadn¡¯t complained once about the smell coming from the bag, which was more than I could say for myself. ¡°Do you think they¡¯re going to count them?¡± she asked after a long stretch of silence. ¡°Probably,¡± I muttered. ¡°No way they¡¯re handing over silver without verifying.¡± She made a face, glancing at the sack with visible distaste. ¡°That¡¯s someone¡¯s job? Counting goblin ears?¡± ¡°Someone¡¯s got to do it,¡± I said, shrugging. ¡°Might as well be them.¡± The city gates came into view as the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the stone walls. The guards at the entrance gave us curious looks as we passed, but neither of them said a word. The guildhall was bustling when we arrived, the air thick with the smells of sweat, ale, and roasted meat. Adventurers crowded around the long tables, swapping stories and laughing loudly over their drinks. I headed straight for the clerk at the counter, dropping the sack onto the wood with a dull thud. Evelyn stayed a step behind me, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable. The clerk, a thin man with a perpetual scowl, raised an eyebrow. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± ¡°Goblin ears,¡± I said. ¡°Twenty-one, plus a chief. Hideout cleared.¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. The room quieted slightly as heads turned in our direction. ¡°Twenty-one?¡± the clerk repeated, his tone skeptical. ¡°And the chief,¡± Evelyn added, her voice steady. ¡°It¡¯s all there.¡± The clerk sighed, pulling the sack closer and opening it. The faint stench made him grimace, but he started counting, his fingers moving quickly through the pile of bloody trophies. After a few minutes, he nodded, looking up at us with a faint trace of respect. ¡°Twenty-one, like you said. Plus the chief. That¡¯s fifty silver per goblin and an extra hundred for clearing the hideout.¡± He scribbled something in a ledger, then pulled out a heavy pouch from beneath the counter. ¡°Your total: one thousand one hundred fifty silver.¡± I took the pouch, its weight satisfying in my hand. Evelyn¡¯s eyes widened slightly, but she didn¡¯t say anything. ¡°Good work,¡± the clerk said gruffly. ¡°You¡¯re free to take another quest if you¡¯re interested.¡± We stepped away from the counter, finding an empty table near the corner of the room. I dropped the pouch onto the wood, pulling out a handful of coins to divide between us. ¡°Five hundred seventy-five each,¡± I said, sliding her share across the table. Evelyn hesitated, then took the coins, her fingers brushing the silver with an almost reverent look. ¡°I can¡¯t believe we actually made that much.¡± ¡°Believe it,¡± I said, tucking my share into my pouch. ¡°But don¡¯t get used to it. Not every job¡¯s going to pay this well.¡± She nodded, still staring at the coins before tucking them into her satchel. ¡°So¡­ now what?¡± I gestured toward the bounty board near the entrance. ¡°We see what else is on offer.¡± The board was just as cluttered as before, but one notice stood out. It was newer than the others, the ink fresh and the parchment still crisp. Quest: Stop a Local Ranger Location: Western Woods, near the Elder Grove. Objective: Prevent a rogue ranger from slaughtering wildlife indiscriminately. Reward: 300 silver. Evelyn raised an eyebrow, glancing at me. ¡°A ranger? Doesn¡¯t that sound¡­ backwards? Aren¡¯t they supposed to protect the forest?¡± ¡°Supposed to,¡± I said, pulling the notice from the board. ¡°But if this guy¡¯s rogue, there¡¯s no telling what his deal is.¡± ¡°Three hundred silver doesn¡¯t seem like much,¡± she pointed out. ¡°Three hundred more than we had this morning,¡± I said. She sighed, crossing her arms. ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s do it. But if this guy turns out to be some sort of psycho, I¡¯m blaming you.¡± ¡°Fair enough,¡± I said with a smirk, tucking the notice into my belt. ¡°Let¡¯s head out.¡± Chapter Twenty-Three: The Call of the Dungeon Connor Hayes The forest felt quieter than usual as I moved through the underbrush, my bow slung across my back and my steps light on the soft earth. The birdsong that typically filled the canopy was absent, replaced by an eerie stillness that made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. Something was out here. I crouched low, scanning the treeline for movement. The forest had been good to me so far, providing food, shelter, and more than enough challenges to keep me busy. But this silence? It was unnatural. Pushing forward, I brushed aside a low-hanging branch, revealing a clearing I¡¯d never seen before. At the center stood a jagged stone structure, its surface covered in moss and vines. The entrance, a dark maw framed by crumbling pillars, seemed to breathe unease into the air around it. A faint glow flickered above the archway, and as I approached, glowing text materialized in my HUD. Dungeon Discovered: Hollowfang Burrow Recommended Level: 10 I stopped, my hand resting on the hilt of my hunting knife. ¡°Level 10,¡± I muttered, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. ¡°Looks like I¡¯m right on time.¡± The entrance loomed before me, dark and foreboding, but I didn¡¯t hesitate. Opening my System Menu, I did a quick check of my stats and gear. Connor Hayes Level: 10 Health: 420/420 Mana: 80/80 Stamina: 1,200/1,200 I scrolled through my inventory, noting the essentials: arrows, basic healing potions, and a few rations. My bow was in good shape, and the hunting dagger strapped to my belt had seen enough action to prove itself reliable. ¡°Looks like I¡¯m ready,¡± I muttered, gripping the bow tightly. With a deep breath, I stepped into the dungeon. The air grew colder the moment I crossed the threshold. The walls of the tunnel were rough-hewn stone, slick with moisture and lined with patches of faintly glowing moss. A faint drip of water echoed in the distance, and the smell of damp earth mixed with something sour lingered in the air. The HUD blinked, a new notification appearing in the corner of my vision. Dungeon Objective: Clear All Floors Completion Rewards: Randomized loot, bonus experience. ¡°Clear all floors,¡± I said, my voice low. ¡°Sure. Easy.¡± The first chamber was eerily empty, save for the scattered remains of long-forgotten battles. Rusted weapons and shattered bones littered the ground, and a single torch flickered weakly on the far wall. I moved cautiously, my bow at the ready. The silence pressed down on me, every step echoing louder than it should have. The first enemy appeared as I rounded a corner: a gaunt, wolf-like creature with glowing red eyes and jagged teeth. Its fur was patchy and matted with filth, and its claws scraped against the stone as it crouched low, snarling. Hollowfang Stalker - Level 8 ¡°Level 8,¡± I muttered, drawing an arrow. ¡°You¡¯ll do.¡± I loosed the arrow, the string snapping against my fingers as the shaft flew true. It struck the creature in the shoulder, eliciting a sharp yelp as it staggered back.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. -35 HP. The Stalker didn¡¯t hesitate, leaping toward me with surprising speed. I rolled to the side, my stamina bar barely ticking down, and drew another arrow. As the creature turned, I fired, the arrow burying itself in its neck. -50 HP. Fatal wound inflicted. The Stalker crumpled, dissolving into black mist that drifted into the air. I exhaled, my grip on the bow steady as I notched another arrow. The next few chambers were similar, each one presenting a handful of Stalkers. They were fast and vicious, but my stamina outlasted theirs every time. Rolling, dodging, firing¡ªI moved like I was back in the woods, hunting for game. My HUD flashed with notifications of stamina usage, but the bar barely dipped below half even after several encounters. ¡°Endurance training¡¯s paying off,¡± I muttered, smirking as I wiped sweat from my brow. Then I entered the larger chamber. The space opened up suddenly, the ceiling arched high above and the walls lined with torches that burned with a faint, greenish light. Claws scraped against stone as shadows moved in the corners of the room. A pack of Hollowfangs emerged from the darkness, their glowing eyes fixed on me. Six of them, snarling and snapping, their bodies low to the ground as they spread out to surround me. ¡°Alright,¡± I said, raising my bow. ¡°Let¡¯s dance.¡± The Hollowfang pack snarled as they closed in, their glowing eyes locked onto me like I was already dead meat. My grip tightened on the bow as I notched an arrow, pulling the string back until it creaked. The first Stalker lunged. I released the arrow, and it struck true, burying itself in the creature¡¯s chest. It stumbled, yelping as its body dissolved into black mist. -50 HP. Fatal wound inflicted. But there wasn¡¯t time to celebrate. Another Stalker darted in from the side, its claws slashing toward my leg. I leapt back, feeling the sting of its strike as it grazed my thigh. HP: 380/420 ¡°Damn it,¡± I muttered, rolling to the side as another Stalker lunged. I activated an ability without hesitation, the words forming in my mind like second nature. Ability Activated: Quickstep Your movement speed increases by 50% for 5 seconds. Stamina drain reduced during this time. The world seemed to slow as I moved, each step faster and lighter than before. The nearest Stalker snapped at the air where I¡¯d been an instant earlier, its claws swiping harmlessly as I dodged to the side. I fired another arrow mid-step, the shot punching through a second Stalker¡¯s skull. -55 HP. Fatal wound inflicted. Another Stalker closed in, its claws aiming for my torso. I dropped into a crouch, flipping the bow over my shoulder and drawing my hunting knife in one fluid motion. ¡°Your turn,¡± I muttered, lunging forward. Ability Activated: Precision Strike Your next melee attack deals 75% increased damage. The knife glowed faintly as it plunged into the Stalker¡¯s chest, cutting through its hide like butter. The creature let out a shriek before collapsing, its body evaporating into mist. -85 HP. Fatal wound inflicted. I pivoted, my senses heightened as the remaining three Stalkers circled me. One feinted to the left while another darted to the right, their coordination unnervingly sharp. A claw raked across my arm, pain blooming as blood spattered onto the stone floor. HP: 340/420 I gritted my teeth, raising my bow again. Two arrows loosed in quick succession, the first striking a Stalker in the shoulder while the second took it down with a shot to the neck. -50 HP. Fatal wound inflicted. The last two lunged simultaneously, one aiming high and the other low. Ability Activated: Snare Trap Deploys a tripwire that roots enemies for 3 seconds. The trap sprung at my feet as the first Stalker crossed its threshold. The creature yelped as glowing tendrils of energy wrapped around its legs, holding it in place. I turned, plunging my knife into the second Stalker as it closed in, the blade sinking deep into its ribs. -70 HP. Fatal wound inflicted. The trapped Stalker snarled, thrashing against the binding tendrils. Before it could break free, I notched an arrow and fired, the shot striking it square in the head. -60 HP. Fatal wound inflicted. The chamber fell silent, save for the sound of my ragged breathing. My HUD pulsed faintly, the health bar reminding me of every hit I¡¯d taken. HP: 340/420 I slung my bow over my shoulder, reaching into my inventory with a thought. A faint shimmer appeared in my hand as I pulled out a small glass vial filled with bright red liquid. Healing Potion: Restores 100 HP. The cork popped easily, and I downed the potion in one go. It tasted bitter, like overripe fruit, but the warmth that spread through my body was immediate. The aches and cuts faded, and my HUD updated with a soft chime. HP: 420/420 I exhaled, wiping the sweat from my brow. ¡°Okay,¡± I muttered, surveying the now-empty chamber. ¡°That wasn¡¯t so bad.¡± The faint flicker of light in the next hallway told me the dungeon wasn¡¯t done with me yet. ¡°Alright, Hollowfang Burrow,¡± I said, gripping my bow again. ¡°Let¡¯s see what else you¡¯ve got.¡±