Strange things, indeed.

  I stepped further into the village, the dirt path crunching softly under my boots. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers and woodsmoke. Children darted past, their laughter echoing, while villagers bustled about their daily chores. It all looked so normal, so peaceful. But the unease in my chest refused to fade.

  I wandered toward the edge of the village, where the fields gave way to a dense forest. The trees loomed tall and dark, their branches twisting like skeletal fingers against the sky. Something about the forest felt… alive. Watching. I shook my head, trying to push the thought away.

  Buzz

  Then it happened.

  The air in front of me buzzed, a low, electric hum that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I froze, my breath catching in my throat. The buzzing grew louder, sharper, until the air itself seemed to crackle and warp.

  The voice was mechanical, glitching in and out like a broken recording. It echoed in my head, not through my ears, and sent a jolt of panic through me. My heart pounded as a screen materialized in front of me, hovering in midair. The text flickered, distorted, as if struggling to hold itself together.

  I stumbled back, my boots scraping against the dirt. “What the hell is this?” My voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

  The screen glitched again, the text scrambling before reforming.

  I stared at the screen, my mind racing. This couldn’t be real. It had to be some kind of hallucination, a side effect of whatever had brought me here. But the buzzing in the air, the cold sweat on my skin—it all felt too real.

  “Wait—what?” I managed to choke out. “What is this? What do you mean, ‘chosen’?”

  The voice crackled, the glitches growing more pronounced.

  A shiver ran down my spine. “No… no way,” I gasped, my voice trembling.

  The screen flickered, the text stabilizing for a moment.

  The voice was firmer now, no glitches, no hesitation. It carried a weight, an authority that made my chest tighten.

  The screen dissolved into a shower of glowing particles, the buzzing fading into silence. I stood there, my heart pounding, my hands trembling at my sides. The forest loomed ahead, its shadows deeper now, more menacing.

  “Myrithar…” I whispered the name, testing it on my tongue. It felt foreign, heavy. A world that needed me? A system that was broken? None of this made sense.

  I stared at the empty air where the glitched screen had been moments ago, my mind racing. The voice, the text, the buzzing—it all felt like some kind of twisted joke. But the warmth from the stone still lingered in my chest, a constant reminder that this wasn’t a dream.

  “Alright, system,” I muttered, my voice low and cautious. “If you’re real, show yourself.”

  Nothing.

  I tried again, louder this time. “System! Open up!”

  Still nothing.

  Frustration bubbled up, and I ran a hand through my hair, tugging at the strands. “Great. A glitched system that doesn’t even work when I need it. Perfect.”

  I tried a few more variations, my tone shifting from annoyed to pleading. “Stats? Menu? Status window? Come on, you stupid thing, work!”

  Silence.

  I let out a sharp breath, my shoulders slumping. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll figure this out later.”

  Turning to leave, my boots scuffed against the dirt path. But just as I took my first step, the air in front of me buzzed violently, and the screen materialized with a loud

  “What the—!” I stumbled back, my heart leaping into my throat. The screen flickered, the text glitching in and out as if struggling to stay stable.

  “Oh, now you show up?” I snapped, glaring at the screen. “Real helpful, thanks.”

  The system didn’t respond, of course. It just hung there, glowing faintly, waiting.

  I sighed, running a hand over my face. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”

  Focusing on the screen, I waited, and after a moment, my stat window appeared.

  I scanned the stats, my brow furrowing slightly. “No health bar? That’s… unusual. Maybe it’s because the system’s glitched.”

  I paused, considering my options. “Alright, let’s see if I can improve anything. Strength seems like a good place to start.”

  Mentally, I assigned 3 points to , but the system glitched, the numbers flickering wildly. When the screen stabilized, the points had gone into instead.

  “Bro what?!” I stared at the screen, my jaw tightening. “I didn’t tell you to put them there! Fix it!”

  The system didn’t respond, of course.

  I growled under my breath, frustration mounting. “Fine. Let’s try this again.”

  I tried again, this time assigning 2 points to and 3 to . This time, the system seemed to work correctly, and the points went where I intended.

  “Okay, that’s better,” I said, a small sense of relief washing over me.

  Finally, I assigned the last 2 points to , but once again, the system glitched, and the points ended up in .

  “Alright, that’s… frustrating,” I admitted, keeping my tone as calm as possible but tinged with mild irritation. “But I guess I’ll have to work with what I’ve got.”

  Unallocated Points

  Points Available: 0

  I was about to dismiss the stat window when the screen flickered violently, the text scrambling into a chaotic mess of symbols and letters. For a moment, I thought the system had crashed entirely, but then a new prompt appeared, glowing faintly in the air:

  The text glitched, the words distorting and breaking apart before reforming.

  I blinked, my brow furrowing. “Save the village?”

  Before I could get any answers, the screen glitched again, the words distorting into gibberish.

  The prompt disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving me staring at empty air.

  “Wait, what?” I said aloud, my voice tinged with disbelief. “Save the village? From who? And how? I’m weaker than anyone here!”

  I clenched my fists, my frustration bubbling up again. “Fucking System, if you’re going to give me a mission, at least tell me what I’m supposed to do!”

  The air buzzed faintly, and for a moment, I thought the system might respond.

  Instead, a low-grade sword materialized in front of me, dropping into my hands with a dull clang.

  I stared at it, my annoyance giving way to a mix of confusion and resignation. The sword was simple—a basic ironwood blade with a worn leather grip. It wasn’t flashy, but it was better than nothing.

  I stood there for a moment, the weight of the sword in my hand grounding me.

  "This shit wants me dead."

  My grip tightened around the sword hilt before I shoved it into my belt. If there was something coming, I wasn’t about to wander around clueless.

  The only person I knew here was the woman who had taken me in.

  With that, I turned on my heel and headed back.

  The walk back felt longer than it should have. Maybe it was because my mind was spinning, trying to make sense of everything. The system’s glitched messages, the mission, this world itself. Nothing fit together. I needed clarity—anything that made sense—but all I had was more questions.

  The wooden door creaked as I pushed it open. The woman was already at the table, sorting through bundles of dried herbs, her expression calm, collected—like she hadn’t just nursed a complete stranger back to health.

  She looked up, her sharp gaze scanning me before settling on the sword at my waist. “That’s new.”

  I shifted on my feet, suddenly aware that I hadn’t even asked for her name. I had been too caught up in my own confusion to show any basic courtesy. Heat rose to my cheeks as I scratched the back of my head.

  “Uh… I just realized I never asked your name,” I admitted, avoiding her gaze. “You helped me, let me stay here, and I didn’t even properly thank you. So… thank you. For everything. If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

  A flicker of amusement crossed her face. “Took you long enough.” She wiped her hands on a cloth before crossing her arms. “My name is Elira.”

  Elira. The name fit, it wasn’t overly elegant or flowery, but it carried a quiet authority.

  She looked the part too—high cheekbones, sun-kissed skin that hinted at a life spent working outdoors, and dark brown hair streaked with silver, tied back in a loose braid. Her sharp, assessing eyes gave nothing away, but there was something steady about her presence, like she was the type of person who handled problems rather than panicked over them.

  I hesitated for a moment before saying, “I’m Zane.”

  She raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking slightly. “Yeah, even your name isn’t from around here.”

  She eyed me for a moment longer before letting out a small hum. “If you want to help, you can carry some of the groceries later. I need to head into the village for supplies.”

  I nodded, glad to have something—anything—to do that didn’t involve glitched quests.

  Elira, however, wasn’t done inspecting me. Her eyes traveled down to my clothes, and her expression twisted slightly. “You’re going to attract attention like that.”

  I glanced down at myself. Jeans. A t-shirt. A hoodie, now a little worse for wear. Normal. But in a world like this, where people wore tunics, cloaks, and armor, I might as well have been walking around with a flashing sign that said ‘outsider.’

  “Right,” I muttered. “Didn’t think about that.”

  She shook her head, grabbing a small coin pouch from the shelf. “Come on, we’ll find something for you to wear while we’re out.”

  The village center was alive with movement. Stalls lined the main street, their vendors calling out to passing villagers. The scent of fresh bread, herbs, and roasting meat filled the air, mixing with the chatter of bartering customers and laughing children weaving between adults. The noise was overwhelming, but not in a bad way. It was... alive.

  Elira led me through the crowd, occasionally stopping to pick up items while I trailed behind, carrying a growing number of bags. I wasn’t going to complain—it was the least I could do.

  Eventually, she steered us toward a modest shop near the edge of the market. Inside, bolts of fabric lined the shelves, and a few simple tunics and trousers hung on wooden racks. She wasted no time, picking out a dark tunic, a pair of sturdy trousers, and boots that looked like they’d actually survive some wear and tear.

  “These should fit you well enough,” she said, handing them over.

  I hesitated. “I don’t have money.”

  She gave me a flat look. “You can pay me back later.”

  I wanted to argue, but something about her tone made it clear I wasn’t winning this one. With a sigh, I took the clothes and changed into them in the back room. When I emerged, Elira gave an approving nod.

  “Better. Now you won’t stick out like a lost traveler.”

  She gave me a once-over, then smirked slightly. “Actually, you clean up well. You’ll have no trouble turning heads.”

  I blinked at her, caught off guard. “Uh… thanks?”

  A small mirror hung on the shop’s wooden wall, and curiosity got the better of me. I stepped closer, peering at my reflection.

  Decently long black hair, slightly messy but falling just past my ears. Dark eyes—so dark they looked almost like voids, swallowing light instead of reflecting it. My features weren’t anything extraordinary—strong but not too sharp, symmetrical but not unnaturally perfect. Yet, somehow, it all worked together better than it should have. Handsome, in a way I’d never really paid attention to before.

  Then again, the system given me a high Charisma stat. Was this part of that? Some passive effect that made me more naturally appealing? That would explain Elira’s comment—maybe even why people didn’t look at me like a complete outsider despite the strange clothes earlier.

  I frowned slightly, running a hand through my hair before stepping back.

  “Well,” I muttered, shaking off the weird feeling, “at least I don’t look completely out of place now.”

  With that, we returned to her house, dropping off the groceries before I found myself drawn back toward the village center.

  It wasn’t long before something caught my attention.

  A small clearing near the marketplace had been turned into a training ground. A few villagers stood with wooden swords, practicing basic drills while an older man barked corrections. My gaze lingered on them, a mix of curiosity and something else—something deeper.

  Fighting. Combat. It wasn’t something I had ever trained for, but if this world expected me to face whatever unknown threat was coming, I couldn’t just stand around clueless. Maybe watching would help me understand something.

  Just as I took a step closer, a blur of motion caught my eye.

  A child, no older than eight or nine, came running, weaving between people. I barely had time to react before she tripped, her momentum sending her straight toward me. Instinctively, I reached out to steady her.

  Her small hand grasped my arm, and the world shifted.

  At first, it was subtle—like a drop in temperature, a change in air pressure that made my ears pop. But then it hit all at once. The air turned thick, like I was suddenly wading through something invisible. Sounds stretched and warped, muffled as though they came from underwater. My breath caught in my throat.

  I looked down at her—big, wide eyes staring up at me, startled yet oddly familiar. Too familiar.

  A strange pressure built behind my skull, a dull throb that grew sharper the longer I held her gaze. Then, in a blink, the world around me wasn’t the same.

  I gasped. My chest tightened, my lungs struggling for air. I could hear it—the crackling fire, the frantic shouts, the clash of steel meeting flesh. But I wasn’t there. I was still in the village. It was still standing. Yet my body refused to believe it.

  The girl’s face overlapped with another—soot-streaked, tear-stained, filled with the same fear. My fingers twitched, the ghost of another hand clutching mine in desperation. A memory. No… not a memory. A dream.

  The dream.

  A sharp, stabbing pain exploded in my head. My vision blurred at the edges, a sickening nausea twisting my stomach. The weight of realization pressed down like a boulder crushing my ribs.

  This was it. The same village. The same layout, the same roads, the same houses. But alive. Untouched.

  My legs buckled.

  I collapsed, my knees slamming into the dirt. My breath came in ragged gasps as the world spun around me. The stalls, the people, the laughter—it all twisted, distorting into flickering images of fire and ruin.

  This village… I had seen it burn.

  And suddenly, the system’s words weren’t just cryptic nonsense anymore.

  

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