The air punched out of Renji's lungs as he hit the ground. The world wasn't pavement and neon lights anymore—it was dirt, pine needles, and the smell of damp moss. He rolled, groaning, clutching his ribs. No pain from the satellite's impact. Just soreness, as if he'd been dropped into this place like luggage tossed onto a conveyor belt.
He pushed himself up onto his elbows. A forest stretched in every direction, dim and cold, the canopy blotting out the sky. The trunks rose like pillars, and the shadows between them shifted with the suggestion of movement.
Renji blinked. "This… isn't Earth."
His voice sounded thin in the silence. The words misted in the air, gone as quickly as breath. He rubbed his arms, shivering, and forced himself to his feet.
No streets. No lights. No traffic. Just trees, moss, and the faint sound of running water.
Renji started walking. What else could he do? The forest floor was uneven, roots jutting through the dirt. Branches clawed at his jacket, snagged his hair. Every sound set his teeth on edge—the groan of trees shifting in the wind, the dry snap of something moving in the undergrowth.
More than once, he spun in place, convinced he was being followed. The shadows seemed to twitch just out of sight. His mind supplied goblins, wolves, worse. He half-expected the god's smug voice to chime in at any second, mocking him for panicking.
None came. Just silence.
His throat grew dry. The buzz of panic gave way to thirst. After what felt like hours, he caught the sound again—running water, steady and clear.
He pushed through a curtain of brush and found it.
A spring bubbled at the base of a cluster of rocks, spilling into a small pool. The surface mirrored the moonlight, silver ripples drifting across its glassy calm. A thread of steam curled upward. The air smelled clean.
Renji crouched at the edge, cupping water in his hands. Cold, fresh. He drank greedily, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. For a moment, the panic slipped away.
"This isn't so bad," he muttered. "If I have to be stuck in a fantasy forest, at least there's a free water feature."
He leaned back, letting out a shaky laugh. "Maybe the god isn't completely useless. Maybe they dropped me here on purpose. Running water, clean air, no traffic noise… it's not the worst reset button."
The words sounded strange even to him. Complimenting the god felt wrong, but for that moment, under the stars, with cool water in his throat, he almost believed it.
He allowed himself to imagine this world as a fresh start. A chance to do things differently. Friends, adventure, maybe even romance—things he'd let slip by back on Earth.
The thought lasted three seconds.
A low growl broke the quiet.
Renji froze. Slowly, he turned his head.
A figure stood in the shadows on the far side of the pool. Small, hunched, green-skinned. Its beady yellow eyes gleamed, teeth bared in a jagged grin.
A goblin.
It shuffled forward, clutching a chipped knife. Its voice was a hiss, somewhere between laughter and a snarl.
Renji stumbled backward on his hands. "Nope. Nope, nope—" His palm smacked into something hard. He groped blindly and dragged it up.
A crusty letter opener. Rust flecked, the handle worn smooth, the tip more decorative than sharp.
"…Seriously?" Renji croaked.
The goblin shrieked and charged.
Renji scrambled to his feet, flailing with the opener more out of desperation than skill. The first swing clipped the goblin's shoulder, slowing it but not stopping the attack. Its knife slashed across his arm, shallow but burning. He cried out, stumbling back, hot blood trailing down his sleeve.
The goblin pressed in, snarling, stone blade flashing again. Renji barely twisted aside. Bark splintered as the strike bit into a nearby tree.
His heart hammered so hard it drowned everything else out. The stink of the goblin hit him—rot, sweat, copper.
He thought of every manga he'd read, every RPG where a goblin was supposed to be weak, a starter enemy. They never mentioned the smell. Or the blood. Or how much it hurts when the knife doesn't stop!
Panic shoved him forward. He swung again, catching the goblin's face. It screeched, staggering. He drove the letter opener into its throat before it could recover.
The goblin convulsed once, clawed at his arm, and collapsed twitching in the dirt.
Renji staggered away, chest heaving, the so-called weapon clutched in his shaking hand. He stared at the corpse. The stink of iron and rot rolled out. His stomach lurched.
"…Why the hell is my first weapon in another world a letter opener?"
A pane of light snapped into existence before his eyes.
[Status Window]
Level: 1 → 2
Vitality +1
Inventory Updated: Crusty Letter Opener
Renji blinked. "Wait—you're serious?"
The letters shimmered, rearranging themselves.
[Status Window??]
Congratulations, Champ!
You beat up a goblin barely smarter than moss.
Reward: One tetanus-infected letter opener. Don't stab yourself.
Renji slapped the screen. "Shut up! Shut up, shut up—this isn't funny!"
The pane blinked out. Silence pressed in again.
He crouched beside the corpse, tugging at its knife. The leather-wrapped handle came free with a wet sound. Sticky, filthy, crude. He grimaced and tossed it aside.
The letter opener fit his hand better. Not well. Not comfortably. But it was his.
"Guess you're stuck with me," he muttered. "Goddamn trademark weapon. Perfect."
The god's voice flickered faint in his head, smug as ever: "Trademarks are important, champ."
Renji groaned. "I hate you."
He pressed his hand against his cut, wincing. It wasn't deep, but the blood didn't stop immediately. He crouched at the pool, washing the wound in the spring water, teeth gritted against the sting. The water was cold, numbing, but at least it came away clean.
He stared at his reflection in the pool. The moonlight bent across his pale face, eyes wide, jaw tight. He looked like some half-starved runaway, not a champion. For a moment, he whispered: "Maybe the god wanted me to see this. That it isn't a dream. That I can survive it."
Then he glanced at the goblin corpse and nearly retched.
For a long moment he sat there, fighting the urge to puke, hands trembling. Infection, disease, rot—he wanted nothing to do with it. He kept the letter opener but left the goblin's knife half-buried in the dirt. Even desperation had limits.
Branches rustled behind him.
Voices.
Not goblin snarls. Not beastly growls. Human voices, drifting closer.
Renji froze. Relief surged—then panic right after. What would they see? A blood-streaked stranger crouched over a goblin corpse with a rusty letter opener.
"Great," he muttered. "They're gonna think I'm some lunatic bandit."
The voices drew closer. He heard three. Two firm, one light and teasing.
Renji tightened his grip on the useless weapon. His throat worked as the branches parted.
Three figures stepped into the clearing.
The first was a tall woman with a longsword at her hip, the hilt worn smooth from use. Her armor was worn but well-kept, her hair tied back, her eyes sharp and wary. She carried herself with the easy command of someone used to danger, and her gaze cut straight to the blood running down Renji's arm.
The second was a beastkin man with the bulk of a soldier. His ears stood tall and triangular, fur thick and patterned in shades of grey and black like an Alaskan malamute. His heavy tail swayed low, steady and controlled. His eyes lingered on the goblin corpse, then returned to Renji with open suspicion.
The third was younger, smaller. A black-and-white cat-girl, ears angled forward, green eyes fixed on Renji with bright curiosity. She stayed where she was at first, tail curling idly behind her.
The woman's hand went to her sword. "You there. What happened?"
Renji froze, letter opener clutched tight. "Goblin. I… killed it."
The beastkin man sniffed, his deep voice calm but firm. "Blood's real. Goblin blood. He fought."
The cat-girl tilted her head, nose twitching as she stepped closer. "And he doesn't smell like malice. It's… different. Maybe even nice." Her grin slipped in, teasing but unsure. "Weird choice of weapon, though."
Renji flushed. "It—it worked!"
She laughed, soft and surprised. "Guess so. Still, you'll get in trouble if another one shows up."
The woman closed the distance and took Renji's arm to inspect his wound. Her touch was steady, businesslike, and Renji's face burned hotter for it.
"It's shallow," she said. "You'll live. But you shouldn't be out here alone. We came to fill our waterskins at the spring. Once we've done that, you'll walk with us to the nearest town. We'll check you properly there."
Renji muttered, lowering the opener. "…Like I have a choice."
The screen flickered to life.
[Temporary Party Escort: ???]
Weapon: Rusted Letter Opener (Trademark Acquired)
Status: Injured, embarrassed, possibly surrounded by trouble.
Romantic Prospects: 2 nearby. Probability of future complications: inevitable.
Renji groaned aloud. The cat-girl giggled at his reaction, and even the swordswoman's lips twitched before she masked it again.