Arin Vale awoke to the sound of wind.
It wasn't the kind of wind he was used to—the dusty breeze that rattled his apartment windows during summer storms. No, this wind carried scents that didn't belong anywhere on Earth. The air was sharper, rawer, as though it had never been tainted by cities or machines. When Arin's eyes cracked open, he saw a sky far too vivid to be real: vast, endless blue, streaked with floating islands suspended in the heavens like fragments of broken stars.
He sat up abruptly, wincing as pain stabbed through his skull. His fingers dug into soil that was damp, cool, and alive with faint pulses of energy. He blinked, his heart hammering.
"W-Where…?" His voice was hoarse, his throat dry.
The last thing he remembered was slumping over his desk in his cramped apartment, buried under textbooks and empty ramen cups. The weight of exams, the dull ache of disappointment, the thought that maybe life had little else in store for him. And then—darkness.
Yet now he was here, in a forest unlike any he had ever seen. The trees were impossibly tall, their trunks silver-white, their leaves shimmering with a faint glow as though catching light from unseen moons. Strange birdlike creatures wheeled overhead, wings trailing sparks.
A cold shiver ran down his spine. "This isn't Earth."
And then a voice spoke.
It wasn't a voice in the air, nor one carried on the wind. It was inside his head, resonating deep in his bones—calm, ancient, and filled with an authority that made his skin crawl.
"Arin Vale. Welcome to the Great Wilderness."
Arin staggered back, nearly tripping over a root. "Wh—who's there?!" His words echoed uselessly into the trees.
No one answered. Instead, glowing text burned itself into the very air before his eyes, letters formed of light:
Seven Continents, named after the Gods.
Seven Great Dungeons, guardians of fate.
Rise from Rank One to Rank Ten, or perish in the attempt.
Arin's stomach twisted. He tried to wipe the words away, but his hand passed straight through them.
"This… this looks like some kind of game interface…" he whispered, trembling.
But the soil under his nails, the ache in his muscles, the biting chill of the wind—none of this felt like a game.
A low growl broke his thoughts.
Arin's head snapped toward the trees. Two glowing eyes stared back at him from the shadows. A creature padded into view—something like a wolf, but not. Its fur was the color of ash, rippling with black smoke, and from its head jutted two curved horns that gleamed like polished obsidian. Saliva dripped from its maw, sizzling where it struck the grass.
Arin froze. His mind screamed to run, but his legs refused to move.
The beast lowered itself into a crouch. Muscles coiled. Then it lunged.
"Shit!" Arin scrambled backward, throwing himself to the side. The monster's claws slashed where his chest had been a heartbeat earlier, tearing a gash through the earth.
He bolted. Branches whipped against his arms as he ran through the undergrowth, heart hammering so loud it drowned out thought. He didn't know where he was going—only that if he stopped, he would die.
The growl followed, closer, closer.
His foot caught on a root. He crashed hard, pain flaring in his shoulder. He rolled onto his back just in time to see the horned wolf leap, its fangs aimed for his throat.
"No!"
He threw his hand up in desperation—
—and light burst from his palm.
A golden flare erupted like a miniature sun, slamming into the beast with a thunderous crack. The wolf howled, flung backward into a tree with bone-shattering force. Splinters rained down as the monster crumpled to the ground, dazed.
Arin sat frozen, staring at his trembling hand. "What… what the hell was that…?"
The voice returned, implacable.
"The path begins here. Survive. Grow. Conquer. Reach Rank Ten… or fade into dust."
Arin's breathing was ragged, his chest heaving. He wanted to deny it, to scream that this was impossible. But the glow still lingered faintly in his palm, proof that something inside him had awakened.
The beast staggered back to its feet, blood dripping from its maw. Its golden eyes still burned with hunger.
Arin swallowed, fear clashing with something else—a spark of defiance.
He clenched his fist. "If this world wants me dead… it'll have to try harder."
He rose shakily to his feet as the horned wolf lowered itself to pounce again. The Great Wilderness had delivered its first trial, and Arin Vale refused to fall at the starting line.