Lux did not move for a long time.
He stood under the canopy, breathing shallowly, listening to the forest as if it might explain itself. The air was damp and cold, and it carried a thousand quiet sounds: insects hidden in leaves, distant birds, the gentle scrape of branches shifting in the wind. None of it cared that he had been stolen from another life.
Lux looked down at the sword again. The rust was real. The weight was real. His hands felt stronger than they should, but not strong enough to make this feel safe.
He forced his mind to stop spinning.
If he panicked, he would die.
That thought arrived clean and sharp, and it steadied him more than any comforting lie ever had.
Lux checked his body first, because that was what you did when you fell into the unknown. No blood. No broken bones. His palms were scraped from the fall, but nothing serious. The leather shirt fit him as if it had always been his. The belt at his waist held a small pouch that he had not noticed at first.
Lux opened it carefully.
Two things lay inside: a flat piece of dried meat and a small metal coin. The coin was dull, stamped with a symbol he did not recognize. It was not any currency from home. The edges were worn, as if it had passed through many hands.
He stared at it, then closed the pouch again.
So he had been given supplies.
That meant this was not random.
The thought made his stomach tighten.
Lux turned his head slowly, scanning the forest. The trees were thick. The ground was uneven, covered in damp leaves and roots that rose like knuckles. He could not see far, and that made every shadow feel like a threat.
He needed a direction.
Lux picked a point between two trees and started walking.
At first he moved too fast, driven by the urge to escape the place where he had landed, as if the ground itself might pull him down again. But the forest punished speed. Branches caught his sleeves. Roots tried to trip him. Wet leaves slid under his boots.
Boots.
Lux looked down. He had boots now too, worn but solid. The soles were thick. Whoever had dressed him had expected him to walk.
Lux slowed. He forced himself to watch the ground, to listen ahead, to measure each step. His grip on the sword was awkward. He had held pens and keyboards his entire life. The sword did not belong in his hand, yet the leather wrap on the hilt felt familiar in a way that bothered him.
Minutes passed. Maybe more.
Lux followed the faintest sign of a path, a place where the plants grew lower, where the ground felt slightly more packed down. It could have been made by animals. It could have been made by people. Either way, it was better than blindly pushing through the undergrowth.
He breathed in through his nose and caught another scent beneath the wood and soil.
Smoke.
Lux froze.
He held his breath and listened.
Nothing immediate. No voices, no footsteps, no obvious danger. But smoke meant fire, and fire meant people, and people meant answers.
Or problems.
Lux adjusted his grip on the sword and moved again, slower now, keeping low where he could, pushing aside branches carefully so they would not snap and announce him.
The smell grew stronger.
Lux crept to the edge of a small rise and parted the leaves.
Below, the forest opened into a clearing.
Lux's heart thudded hard.
A dirt road cut through the clearing, narrow and uneven, but undeniably a road. It curved away between the trees, disappearing into the distance. Near the road stood a broken wagon, its wooden side splintered as if something had hit it. One wheel had come off and lay on its side like a fallen shield.
A small campfire burned nearby, low and smoky. Someone had tried to put it out, but it still smoldered, sending up a thin column of gray.
Lux scanned the clearing.
No people.
But there were signs of struggle. Deep grooves in the dirt. Footprints. Dark stains that could have been mud, or something worse. A sack lay torn open near the wagon, its contents scattered and trampled.
Lux's mouth went dry.
This place was not empty because no one traveled here.
It was empty because something had happened.
Lux stayed hidden for a long moment, weighing the risk.
He needed supplies. He needed information. He needed to know if the road led to a village, a city, anything that was not endless forest.
But if whatever attacked this wagon was still nearby, stepping into the clearing would be the stupidest thing he had ever done.
Lux swallowed.
He told himself he would only take a quick look. Only a few seconds. Then he would leave.
He descended the small rise carefully, keeping the trees between him and the road until he reached the edge of the clearing. The open space felt exposed, like standing under a spotlight. Lux's skin prickled.
He stepped out.
The ground felt softer here, churned up by boots and wheels. Lux kept his eyes moving, never focusing on one spot too long.
He approached the wagon. The wood was cracked. The front bar was snapped cleanly. A scratch mark ran along the side like something with claws had dragged across it.
Lux crouched and picked up a piece of cloth from the ground. It was rough, dyed a faded red. He sniffed it, then wished he had not. It smelled metallic.
Blood.
Lux's stomach turned.
He dropped the cloth and stood quickly, suddenly feeling as if the forest itself had leaned closer.
A sound came from the trees.
Not a voice.
A wet, clicking noise, like stones tapped together inside a throat.
Lux froze.
The sound came again, closer.
Lux slowly lifted the sword into a ready position, though he had no idea what ready meant. His arms felt too stiff. His shoulders too tense.
He backed toward the road, eyes fixed on the tree line.
Leaves rustled.
A shape moved between the trunks.
Lux's breath hitched.
It was small, but not an animal. It walked upright, hunched forward, its movements quick and twitchy. Its skin was a sickly green, and its arms were long enough that its knuckles almost brushed the ground. Its head was too large for its body, with pointed ears and a mouth full of uneven teeth.
A goblin.
The word rose from somewhere in Lux's memory, not from anything he had seen, but from stories, games, myths. Yet the moment he saw it, he knew what it was, the way you knew fire was hot without needing to touch it twice.
The goblin stepped into the clearing and sniffed the air.
Its black eyes snapped toward Lux.
It grinned.
Lux's body reacted before his mind could. He raised the sword higher, feet shifting into a stance that felt wrong but was better than nothing.
The goblin made a sharp sound, almost like a laugh, then turned its head toward the trees and clicked again.
Answering clicks came back.
Lux's blood went cold.
More.
Two more goblins emerged from the shadows, both holding crude weapons. One carried a jagged knife made from bone. The other held a club wrapped in dirty cloth.
They spread out slightly, circling.
Lux's mind screamed at him to run, but his legs did not move. The road behind him offered a straight path, but running would mean showing his back, and he did not trust that he could outrun creatures built for this place.
The first goblin stepped closer, slow and confident.
Lux's grip tightened until his fingers hurt.
He had survived once, somehow. Or maybe he had not yet. Maybe that had been luck. Maybe luck did not come twice.
Lux swallowed and forced his voice out.
"Stay back."
The goblin blinked as if it did not understand the language, then grinned wider.
It lunged.
Lux swung.
The rusty blade cut through the air with a rough hiss, and Lux felt the impact jar up his arms as the sword connected with something solid. The goblin shrieked and stumbled back, clutching its shoulder where the blade had torn flesh.
Lux's eyes widened.
He had hit it.
The goblins hesitated, surprised for half a second.
Then the one with the bone knife darted in low, fast.
Lux barely saw it. He twisted, clumsy, and the knife scraped his leather pants, cutting through and biting into his thigh.
Pain flared white.
Lux gasped and staggered.
The goblins cackled.
Lux's vision narrowed. His heart hammered so hard he could feel it in his throat. He swung again, wild, forcing distance. The goblins danced back, quick and light, ready to strike when he lost balance.
Lux's leg burned. Blood soaked into the leather. His breathing became ragged.
He realized something terrifying.
He did not know how to fight.
He was holding a sword, but he was not a swordsman. He had no training, no instincts, no experience.
He was a man from an office.
In a clearing.
Surrounded by monsters.
Lux backed toward the wagon, using it as cover, but the goblins kept their distance, waiting for him to weaken. One of them picked up a stone and threw it. It struck Lux's shoulder and made his arm go numb.
Lux hissed in pain.
Another stone hit his ribs.
Lux's knees threatened to buckle.
He needed an opening. Something. Anything.
His eyes flicked to the smoldering campfire.
The embers were still alive.
Lux did not think. He acted.
He kicked dirt into the fire, sending up a cloud of ash and smoke. The goblins screeched and flinched, waving their hands in front of their faces.
Lux grabbed a burning stick from the edge of the fire.
Heat seared his palm, but he held on.
He thrust the burning stick toward the nearest goblin.
The goblin shrieked and jumped back.
Lux swung the sword with his other hand, aiming low this time, where its legs would be.
The rusty blade bit deep.
The goblin fell, screaming, and Lux's whole body shook with the reality of it. Blood sprayed across the dirt. The goblin's scream turned into a wet gurgle.
Lux stared at it, horror and disbelief crashing together in his chest.
He had killed it.
The moment the goblin's body went still, Lux felt something surge through him.
Not adrenaline.
Something else.
A violent rush, like power flooding into empty space, filling him from the inside. His muscles tightened. His senses sharpened. The burning in his thigh dulled slightly, not healed, but less overwhelming.
Lux's eyes snapped up.
The other goblins stepped back, suddenly wary.
Lux's breathing slowed, not because he was calm, but because his body suddenly could.
He tightened his grip on the sword, and for the first time since arriving here, his stance felt less wrong.
Lux did not understand what had just happened.
But the goblins did.
They snarled, uncertain now, their confidence cracked.
Lux lifted the sword and took one step forward.
And in that step, he realized a brutal truth.
Killing made him stronger.
And if that was the rule of this world, then this world was about to change him.