The forest had gone quiet.
Too quiet.
Arin tightened his grip around the branch he had picked up as a makeshift weapon. His heart still raced from the earlier encounter with the horned wolf, and though he had survived, the lingering adrenaline made every shadow feel alive.
"I need… people. A village. A road. Something," he muttered to himself, voice hoarse.
He stumbled forward, the trees towering like ancient sentinels. The golden light from his hand had saved him once, but he didn't know if it would happen again. And if another monster appeared…
Snap!
The sound of a twig breaking froze him in place. His eyes darted left. From the underbrush came a figure, slender but armed, an arrow already drawn against the string of a longbow.
"Don't move."
The voice was crisp, commanding, and very much human.
Relief and fear tangled inside him. "Wait! I—I'm not an enemy!" Arin lifted both hands, the branch clattering to the ground.
The archer stepped out of the shadows, revealing herself. She was a girl, perhaps his age or a little older, dressed in light leather armor the color of dusk. Her hair was a cascade of chestnut brown tied behind her head, and her eyes, sharp and emerald green, never left his face.
She didn't lower the bow. "You're dressed strangely. Not a hunter. Not a traveler. And definitely not a noble. What are you?"
Arin swallowed hard. He couldn't exactly say I was a high school student who fell asleep during exam prep.
"…Lost," he said finally. "I'm lost."
The arrow tip wavered slightly. She studied him for a long moment before lowering the bow. "Lost is a death sentence in the Great Wilderness. You're lucky I found you before the wolves did."
He let out a shaky laugh. "Actually… one already did."
Her gaze sharpened. "And you're alive?"
"I… got lucky."
Something flickered in her eyes, suspicion mixed with curiosity. She slung the bow across her shoulder and stepped closer. "Name?"
"…Arin. Arin Vale."
"Lyra Dawnfern," she replied, giving the faintest nod. "Follow me. Quietly. More monsters prowl when dusk falls."
Arin didn't hesitate. The moment she turned, he followed, grateful beyond words.
The forest path wound upward until the trees began to thin, and a faint road appeared beneath their feet—a dirt track worn by countless boots and carts. Arin almost sighed in relief at the sight of civilization's mark.
"So," Lyra began as they walked, her tone clipped but not unkind, "where exactly did you come from? No gear, no food, no coins—nothing but rags on your back. You'd be dead within a day if you wandered in from outside."
Arin scratched the back of his head. "It's… complicated."
"Try me."
He hesitated. She wouldn't believe the truth anyway. "Let's just say I'm… not from around here."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I figured. But listen carefully, Arin Vale. If you plan on surviving in the Great Wilderness, you need to learn three things fast: currency, ranks, and common sense."
He perked up. This was exactly what he needed.
Lyra held up three fingers. "First, currency. Out here, people trade with coins and crystals. Copper Shards are the lowest—you can buy bread or a bed for a night with them. Then Silver Marks, then Gold Crowns, and if you're filthy rich or running a kingdom, Platinum Sigils. Remember this: one hundred Copper Shards makes a Silver Mark, one hundred Silvers make a Gold Crown, and one hundred Golds make a Platinum."
Arin tried to keep track. His head spun. "So… Copper, Silver, Gold, Platinum. Like an RPG."
She gave him a blank look. "Like what?"
"Uh—never mind."
"Good," Lyra continued, "because most adventurers also deal in Soul Crystals. When you kill a monster, it sometimes leaves behind a glowing crystal. The stronger the monster, the more valuable the crystal. They can be sold for coins or used to train."
Arin's eyes widened. "Wait… that thing I fought—it left behind a small glowing stone."
She stopped in her tracks, staring at him. "You… killed a monster? Alone? Without weapons?"
"I… guess?" Arin scratched his cheek nervously.
Lyra shook her head, muttering under her breath. "Either you're suicidal or you've got insane luck." She resumed walking.
"Second thing: ranks. Everyone in this world is ranked from One to Ten. Rank One is where children and fresh adventurers start. Rank Ten… those are legends, kings, and monsters that can topple nations."
Arin swallowed. "And me?"
She glanced at him, scanning his scrawny form. "If you don't know your rank, you're probably at the bottom. But that golden light you mentioned…" Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "That's not normal for Rank One. You'll need to be tested at the academy."
"Academy?"
"Yes. Adventurers' Academy. Every city has one. It trains people like you and me, prepares us to survive dungeons."
The word sent a thrill down Arin's spine. "Dungeons… like, actual giant labyrinths filled with monsters and treasure?"
Lyra's lips quirked in the faintest of smirks. "You sound like a child hearing a fairytale. But yes. The Great Wilderness has seven great dungeons, each on a different continent, plus countless minor ones. That's where adventurers earn their glory—or die."
Arin felt his chest tighten. It was exactly like the games and stories he grew up on. Except this was real. Terrifyingly real.
"And the third thing?" he asked.
Lyra's face grew serious. "Common sense. Never trust strangers too easily. Never eat strange berries. Never camp without setting wards. And never, ever enter a dungeon without a team. Lone wolves don't last long."
He nodded quickly. "Got it."
"Good."
As they continued along the dirt road, the trees parted at last, revealing a valley bathed in twilight. At its heart lay a sprawling settlement—a city, ringed by high stone walls and watchtowers. Smoke curled from chimneys, and faint lights glittered like stars below.
Arin's breath caught. "A city…"
"Dawnlight," Lyra said, her voice carrying a note of pride. "My home. And now, yours too—if you can prove you belong."
They walked toward the gates, the sound of distant chatter and clattering carts growing louder. For the first time since awakening in this world, Arin felt a flicker of hope.
But deep within, he also felt the weight of the voice he had heard before—the one that spoke of ranks, gods, and destiny.
Seven continents. Seven dungeons. Rise to Rank Ten, or fade into dust.
His fists clenched. He didn't know how, but he would survive. He would grow stronger. And maybe… just maybe, he'd carve his name into this Great Wilderness.