Evan Stone wakes up under a canopy of rustling leaves. Sunlight dances on the fern-strewn ground, and the air smells of pine and damp earth. He blinks, his head aching with confusion. Moments ago he was another life entirely – now he is alone, disoriented, and far from anywhere familiar. The last thing he remembers is a flash of pain and a crumbling ceiling... but that is a memory of a past life he barely understands anymore. Grasping at the edges of his mind, he recalls falling during a city street battle – before darkness overtook him and something cold kissed his cheek. It's a jarring revelation: he has died and been reborn in this new, strange land.
A faint mechanical whir echoes in his thoughts. A translucent blue panel floats before him – a status interface, like those in the games he used to play. Evan Stone the interface reads, with his name in bold letters and a tiny wooden sword icon at Level 1. His shoulder and arm scream from jolts of pain as he tries to sit up. He is panting and weak. He notices other stats listed:
HP: 25/25
Strength: 3
Agility: 4
Endurance: 3
and his only skill: Basic Slash: Lvl 1. That's all. No legendary dexterity, no special powers – just a thin, jittery teenager with starting gear. Evan's mouth dries out.
He lifts a hand to his bruised cheek, dragging his fingers through his short dark hair. "Oof," he groans at the stiffness. He looks around: towering oak trees circle the clearing, birds chirping in oblivious morning calm. In the distance, through a break in the trees, he spies a wisp of smoke rising skyward. A village? he thinks. Every instinct tells him to move toward civilization — perhaps that's where he can find answers and help.
Shifting onto unsteady legs, Evan stands, though his knees shake and sweat beads on his brow. He is clutching a simple leather scabbard at his side, and he realizes there is a sword inside – a cheap iron shortsword with a rough wooden hilt. How this ended up with him is a mystery. He didn't pack it. Did someone drop it here for him? Was it always part of his kit from the interface? In any case, it feels heavy and foreign in his pale fist. Evan swallows hard but decides to press on.
Slowly, he steps out of the clearing and into the dense woods beyond. Each footstep causes twigs to crack and leaves to rustle. The interface shows him a tiny map icon: a black dot (himself) moving slowly toward another dot that marks Valemont, presumably the town. There's no hurry given on the interface; he'll find his way, one careful step at a time.
Not five minutes later, Evan's heart begins to hammer. From the underbrush ahead comes a terrifying sound: low snuffling that swells into a bone-chilling snort. A boar, massive and bristly and anger personified, bursts through a thicket a few dozen paces in front of him. Its tusks curve wickedly from a mean snout, and its small beady eyes lock onto Evan. Dark blood trickles from gashes on its side. The boar blinks; it clearly has been wounded or attacked before. Evan barely has time to gasp before the creature charges.
In a panicked rush of adrenaline, he raises his iron shortsword with trembling arms. The world seems to slow. He remembers martial arts he once practiced in his old life – the drills of forms and strikes – but under pressure, everything goes blank. Still, instinct takes over: Evan dodges left and swings his blade in a wide arc. The iron edge scrapes along the boar's thick hide with a clang! The beast squeals, staggers, and Evan's next swing – frenzied and off-balance – manages a deeper cut. The boar staggers, lunges again, but Evan charges forward. He presses all his weight into one desperate thrust, his legs trembling: Pierce!
The boar screeches and collapses onto its side. Evan is moments away from vomiting. He stands panting and dripping with sweat, the forest spinning slowly around him. A faint golden glow erupts around his sword, and in Evan's head he hears a little chime: "Slash skill increased!" Tiny floating numbers – 1 turning to 2 – flash for a heartbeat. He blinks in amazement. Even injured as he is, that tingling satisfaction of improvement is undeniable. He has taken his first step in this new world.
His hands shake as he checks the status panel again.
Basic Slash: Lvl 2
He's a bit stronger than before. Evan pulls the sword from the boar's shoulder with a wet squish and drops it back in his scabbard. The boar, grievously wounded, is beyond saving. Evan feels no triumph – only exhaustion and a sliver of fear. He certainly had to rely on luck more than skill. Limping around the creature, he wipes his blade on its fur out of instinct, not understanding that hides and pelts hold value.
Despite his near-calamitous first battle, Evan's confidence takes a tiny leap. He survived, and he lives. That's something. He pulls himself together and continues on. The town of Valemont draws nearer. As the sun climbs higher, Evan steps out of the forest and onto a dirt road. The smell of baked bread, horses, and woodsmoke greets him. Ahead, wooden stalls line the street and villagers bustle about. Smoke rises from chimneys and the distant clanging of a blacksmith's hammer rings in the air.
Evan squints at a large wooden sign hanging above a fenced yard near the town center: "Valemont Adventurers Guild" painted in fading green letters. Curious travelers, mercenaries in worn armor, and a pair of rangers stand around chatting near the entrance. Evan feels a nervous pit in his stomach. He doesn't know what comes next, but he knows he needs help and answers – and where better to find them than at the one place called out for warriors?
Steeling himself, Evan takes a cautious step toward the Guild Hall. Pain radiates from his leg, but a strange excitement beats through him. This is the dawn of something new: he's stepped onto a path that might just change his destiny forever.