SentSentrie stepped out of the house, wearing the white cloak he had received from Serin. He began analyzing possible ways to escape this place—there were several.
The first way was to destroy the realm itself.
The second, to kill the owner of this realm.
And the third, to leave through special means—such as teleportation, ritual, or some hidden exit.
He chose the first option: to destroy the place.Sentrie tried to use his power—his levitation ability—but it failed.
Shock struck him. His thoughts raced wildly.
Perhaps, he reasoned, the master of this realm possessed an anti-mobility power that prevented flight or levitation.
He chuckled quietly to himself, then attempted to use his explosive energy to obliterate the surroundings. Again, nothing happened. He stared in disbelief.
He remembered the one from the letter—the person who had brought him here.Whoever that person was, they must be powerful indeed; otherwise, they could never suppress his power.
He decided to give up on brute force and try another approach—finding a special exit.
He walked through crowds of people: families, friends, teachers and students.
The place was lively, filled with laughter and warmth.
He simply passed through them, not thinking much of it.
But as he was about to leave the village, a voice called out behind him:
Wait, my lord!"
Sentrie turned to see an elderly man walking toward him—a man with white hair, soft golden eyes, and a cheerful smile.
He wore a white shirt and long black trousers, and leaned on an old wooden staff.
He approached slowly, smiling all the while.
"Where are you headed, my lord?"
the old man asked brightly.
Sentrie gazed deep into the man's heart, observing his every feature.
He narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Who are you?"
Sentrie asked bluntly, his tone almost threatening.
He noticed that the villagers had begun watching him—some with fear, others with hope.
That surprised him.
He hadn't expected anyone to expect anything from him.
Something felt… off.
He recalled Serin's words—that he was someone from another world.
Perhaps that was why they saw him as a figure of hope.
But how did they know he'd been brought here?
The old man gave an awkward chuckle at Sentrie's rudeness, then noticed the way Sentrie was glancing around at the other villagers.
"I am the head of this village," the man said politely.
"My name is Ventigo Mesquite. It's an honor to meet you."
He bowed slightly, almost as if in fear.
Sentrie smirked inwardly. They even sent the village chief to see me? he thought. They must really be expecting something from me.
Ventigo gently placed a hand on Sentrie's shoulder, using his ability to sense Sentrie's power—only to find nothing. His eyes widened in shock.
Sentrie noticed what the man was doing but didn't stop him, for he knew he was currently powerless.
Ventigo withdrew his hand, then asked again:
"May I ask where you intend to go, my lord?"
His voice was calm now, filled only with curiosity.
Seeing their leader's reaction, the villagers gradually lost interest and dispersed.
Sentrie felt relieved that they had done so.
"I'm setting out to follow my purpose,"
Sentrie replied casually.
Ventigo nodded, understanding yet still puzzled. Without power, he thought, how could he possibly travel anywhere?
"Then please—be careful out there,"
the old man said, bowing once more before walking away.
Sentrie paid him no further attention and continued out of the village. The dirt path led him toward another settlement. Trees crowded both sides of the road, making it impossible to stray from the path. The sound of crickets echoed around him — sharp and irritating.
Sentrie looked up at the sky. It was bright blue and white, with sunlight streaming down upon him, as if the sun itself sought his presence.
He stopped walking, thinking for a moment.
"Where… am I?"
He chuckled softly. He had no idea where he was. With no power to sense his surroundings and without having asked for a map from the village chief, he was completely lost.
Still, after pausing for a while, he began walking again — knowing that if he kept following the path, it would eventually lead him to another village…
Until, along the path he was walking, Sentrie came across a group of people. He paid them no attention and simply chose to walk past.
But as he was passing by, one of the men — wearing a fur vest, long trousers, a knife strapped to his waist, and having orange hair — gave an evil grin before speaking.
"Hey, you — where do you think you're going?"
The man grabbed Sentrie's shoulder, forcing him to stop. Sentrie immediately realized that they were looking for trouble. The others in the group began whispering and laughing among themselves.
An older man with a long beard spoke up, his tone mocking and dismissive.
"You know, it's pretty dangerous for a kid like you to be wandering around here alone, don't you?"
The man gripping Sentrie's shoulder laughed wickedly, squeezing harder. Sentrie glanced at him briefly — then brushed the man's hand off.
The orange-haired man looked displeased, and the others began to take more interest in Sentrie's reaction. Some people started shouting, trying to stir up a fight.
"Hey, boss! You're just gonna let that slide?"
"That kid can't do anything to you anyway!"
"Or are you actually scared of him?"
Their taunts fueled the man's anger. He grabbed Sentrie by the collar and snarled,
"I was trying to be nice, and this is how you act!?"
Sentrie paid them no mind and continued walking past. As he did, the orange-haired man unleashed a surge of energy, pulling Sentrie back toward him.
"You think you can just walk away after picking a fight with someone?"
Sentrie glanced down at his body and noticed that he'd been injured by the man's attack.
Caught in the man's grasp, Sentrie swiftly kicked him, forcing the man to stumble backward..
They looked at each other with a sinister look, ready to attack the other.