Noon sunlight pressed down heavily on the beach.
The sea breeze brushed gently against Ash's face, carrying with it the rhythmic white noise of waves crashing onto the shore. He slowly opened his eyes, greeted by an endless stretch of blue sky, drifting white clouds, and a dazzling sun hanging mercilessly overhead.
"No wonder my face feels like it's on fire," Ash muttered, raising a hand to shield his eyes.
He was just about to roll over and surrender himself to another nap when his foggy thoughts snapped into place. His drowsy eyes widened instantly.
He remembered it clearly. Manila airport. Boarding procedures. His next stop was supposed to be Semporna in East Malaysia, white beaches and clear waters waiting for him.
So why was he already lying on one?
Ash pushed himself upright and scanned his surroundings. He was still wearing his blue-and-white floral beach shirt, swim trunks, and coconut sandals. But his travel backpack was gone. His streaming equipment was gone too.
Blue sky. White clouds. Ocean. Sand. Coconut trees.
"Don't tell me I got kidnapped," Ash said blankly.
That idea sounded ridiculous, yet the silence around him made his stomach tighten.
"Yeah, no, that makes zero sense," he added, forcing a dry laugh.
He swallowed, slapped his cheeks hard, and took a slow breath, calming himself before looking around again with sharper focus.
"Dense coconut groves, warm climate… this should still be somewhere near Southeast Asia," he reasoned. "But this beach is way too empty. If this is a kidnapping, these guys are seriously careless."
Another thought crept in, one he almost laughed at.
"Or did I get isekai'd? Seriously? Some island survival novel cliché?" Ash scoffed. "If that's the case, where's my cheat? System, hurry up and say hello."
The joke did nothing to ease the unease gnawing at him.
Standing up, Ash looked deeper inland, and that was when he saw it. Thin columns of smoke rising beyond the treeline.
"…Smoke?" he murmured.
At first glance, it looked like cooking fires.
Curiosity stirred, quickly followed by caution. Smoke meant people, but people also meant danger.
"That's a lot of smoke," Ash muttered. "Unless an entire army decided to cook lunch together, it shouldn't be that bad."
He exhaled sharply and shook his head.
"And even if I hide, hide where? It's ocean on all sides."
Decision made, Ash started walking toward the smoke, his pace steady and measured.
"When a man dies, his spirit faces the sky," he muttered under his breath. "If I live, I live. If not, maybe I get reincarnated properly next time."
Running was out of the question. Soft sand drained stamina fast, and wasting energy without knowing the situation was just stupid.
As for the faint trembling in his legs, Ash chose to ignore it completely.
What looked close from a distance turned out to be anything but. By the time he reached the edge of the island's interior, nearly half an hour had passed.
That was when the sounds hit him.
Cursing. Screaming. The clang of metal. Occasional gunshots. Women crying. Children wailing. Maniacal laughter layered over the crackle of burning wood.
Ash stopped cold.
"That's not cooking smoke," he said slowly.
The gray-black haze rising into the sky came from burning houses.
"I must be blind," he muttered. "Cooking smoke is white. That should've been obvious."
He was standing at the edge of a forest overlooking cultivated fields that bordered a village. Trees blocked his direct view, but the chaos was impossible to mistake.
Even without seeing it, the truth was clear.
"This is a raid," Ash said grimly. "Pirates, probably."
Any thought of getting closer vanished instantly.
Just as he took a step back, preparing to retreat quietly, a faint crunch sounded near his ear.
Every hair on Ash's body stood on end.
He darted sideways several steps and spun around.
A burly man stood a few meters away, scowling at a snapped dead branch beneath his foot. The man wore a greenish-gray turban, a sleeveless gray vest, and held a machete loosely in one hand.
A pirate.
"What kind of lunatic sneaks up on someone with a blade?" Ash thought.
The man's lips curled into a vicious grin.
The answer came instantly.
Ash turned and ran.
"Eehahaha!" the pirate cackled. "Fast reaction! I like that. Run more, it just makes this fun!"
Ash ignored him, focusing entirely on sprinting forward. His heartbeat thundered in his ears as heavy footsteps closed in behind him.
"Eehah!"
That laugh came from right behind him.
Instinct forced Ash to glance back.
The pirate had leapt into the air, both hands gripping the machete as he raised it overhead, bringing it down in a brutal arc.
Ash dropped into a crouch, covering his head without thinking.
"Idiot," he thought in a flash of clarity. "That's not stopping anything."
But fate had other ideas.
His foot came down on a hoe lying along the field ridge. The wooden handle snapped upward from the leverage, shooting straight toward the pirate's face.
The pirate's eyes widened in shock. There was no footing in midair, no time to adjust his swing.
He yanked his head back desperately.
The handle missed his eye, but slammed straight into his neck.
The machete slipped from his hands and clattered onto the ground.
The pirate crashed down heavily beside Ash, his body slamming into the ridge.
A strangled cry escaped his throat.
Unluckily for him, a row of farming tools lay nearby.
His shoulder came down directly onto a rake.
Ash froze for a split second, staring.
Blood seeped from the corner of the pirate's mouth, and several jagged puncture wounds bloomed across his shoulder, dark red and bubbling.
The machete lay right in front of Ash.
Their eyes met.
Ash's expression was pale from adrenaline and disbelief. The pirate's was twisted in agony.
In the next instant, Ash moved.
He grabbed the machete, turned, and brought it down with controlled brutality.
Once. Twice.
Not wildly, not panicked, but precise enough to end the threat.
When it was over, Ash stood there, chest heaving, the weight of the blade heavy in his hand.
He stared down at the fallen pirate, his gaze cold.
"So this is the world I woke up in," Ash said quietly.
A faint certainty settled in his chest.
"Oh Lord, I'm f*cked".