The morning air was fresh. Crisp, with just a hint of dew still clinging to the moss and stones. A soft breeze stirred the leaves above, and for the first time since I arrived in this world, I felt a little lighter. A little braver.
Which meant, obviously, it was time to do something cool.
I stood at the edge of the broken tower floor, peering down.
"Alright" I muttered, backing up a few steps. "Let's see if that jump thing was a fluke."
I ran forward and launched myself into the open air.
For a second, maybe less, I was flying.
Then I landed with a perfect three-point superhero pose. Total cliché. But it felt amazing.
"Nailed it."
Dust swirled around me like I'd just stepped out of an action movie. All I needed was a slow-motion camera and a dramatic sting of music.
I brushed myself off and began picking my way through the ruins again, this time with the early light helping me see the details I'd missed yesterday.
There, nestled into a collapsed structure half-swallowed by vines, something caught the light.
A rusty old sword.
Long. Straight. Cracked near the hilt. Its blade was pocked with rust and age, but somehow, it still held together. The leather grip had mostly disintegrated, and one edge was more saw than sword.
"And they said Excalibur would be hard to find."
I picked it up carefully. It was heavier than I expected, awkward and uneven, but it felt... right. Like I was supposed to have it.
"Alright, rusty deathstick. Let's not kill me first."
I gave it a cautious swing, which mostly ended in me nearly chopping my own foot off. Balance was... a work in progress.
Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd need it soon.
The ruins weren't going to be a permanent home. Too exposed. Too eerie. Too many undead creepers with staring skulls.
"I should find a better place to build shelter," I said aloud, to no one but the birds. "Y'know. Just a small summer cabin. Maybe a porch and monster-proof windows."
I adjusted the sword on my shoulder and started walking.
Not far beyond the ruins, the trees began to thin, and sunlight poured more freely through the gaps. I pushed past the last line of brush and stumbled into a wide, open field.
Rolling grass swayed gently in the wind, dotted with flowers and low shrubs. At the far end, the creek curved gently into view, just a silver ribbon cutting through the forest's edge.
It was perfect.
"This seems like as good a place as any."
And that's when I heard it.
Grunting.
Heavy, rapid footsteps.
I spun around, and froze.
Tusks.
Big ones. As long as my forearm. They jutted from the snarling face of a massive boar, its eyes red and wild, its body as large as a small car. Coarse black fur bristled across its thick frame, and each stomp made the ground shudder slightly beneath my feet.
"Holy!"
I dove.
The boar charged past where I'd been standing a second ago, plowing through the grass like a living tank. I rolled across the dirt, scrambling to my feet and yanking the sword into a defensive grip.
It was heavier than I remembered.
The boar wheeled around with shocking speed, snorting violently.
"Okay," I muttered, steadying my stance.
"This is fine. Just fight the pig. Can't be harder than midterms, right?"
It charged again.
I swung.
Missed.
The boar clipped me with its shoulder, sending me stumbling to the side. Somehow, I didn't fall. My feet moved faster than they should've, faster than they should've. Reflexes I didn't know I had kicked in, and I twisted just in time to bring the sword up as the boar made a second pass.
The blade caught its side.
The impact jarred my arms, but the sword bit deep.
The boar shrieked in rage, rearing back.
"Whoa, yeah, this is actually happening!"
It lunged again, tusks aiming for my chest.
I dropped low, instincts guiding me, then surged forward, driving the sword upward into its belly as I passed beneath it.
With a pained screech, the creature buckled.
It staggered.
Collapsed.
Dead.
I stood there, panting, sword shaking in my hand, blood splattered on the grass, and somehow... not a scratch on me.
"I just killed a monster boar" I said, blinking. "With a garbage sword."
I stared at the corpse.
My heart was still hammering.
"I mean, I'm not a ninja" I added, wiping my face, "but I think I'm something close to a fantasy-action protagonist with zero training and a lot of luck."
The sword was still glowing faintly at the edge, as if feeding on the adrenaline.
I sheathed it, if you could call jamming it into a makeshift cloth wrap sheathing and looked out over the field again.
"I survived my first monster. I have a field. I have a creek. And I didn't die."
I paused.
"But I really need to be careful. Because monsters? Yeah. They're real."