The last thing Matthew remembered was the chaos of the apartment fire. The screams, the crackling flames, the weight of his gear as he climbed the stairs. He remembered finding the children huddled in the bathroom, their faces smeared with soot. He remembered guiding them down the fire escape, making trip after trip until they were all safe.

  Then came the dizziness. His vision blurred as he collapsed outside the building. Snippets of conversation as he was loaded into the ambulance. "Carbon monoxide... levels too high... losing him..."

  And then darkness.

  Now, consciousness returned in waves. The first thing he noticed was the smell—fresh air, pine, soil, and something unfamiliar yet pleasant. The second was the sound—birds chirping, leaves rustling, nothing like the city noise he was accustomed to.

  His eyes fluttered open. Above him was a canopy of leaves, sunlight filtering through in dappled patterns. He was lying on soft grass in a small clearing.

  As he tried to sit up, a sharp pain in his head forced him back down. He raised a hand to his temple and noticed something strange—a faint, shimmering mark on his wrist that wasn't there before. It resembled a small flame, pulsing with an inner light.

  "That's quite an interesting mark you've got there," came a voice.

  Startled, he turned his head to see an older man with a gray beard standing at the edge of the clearing. He wore what looked like homespun clothing—a simple tunic and leather vest—and carried a wooden staff. A small cart with herb bundles sat behind him.

  "Where am I?" Matthew managed to ask, his throat dry. "Is this... am I in a hospital?"

  The old man's brow furrowed. "Hospital? No, young man. You're about a mile outside of Oakridge, at the edge of the Whispering Pines." He approached cautiously. "I'm Gareth, the town herbalist. I was gathering supplies when I noticed you lying here."

  None of this made sense. Oakridge? Whispering Pines? The last thing Matthew remembered was being in the ambulance.

  "Here," Gareth offered a waterskin. "You look confused. Did you hit your head? Or perhaps..." his eyes drifted to the mark on Matthew's wrist, "...perhaps you're not from around here at all."

  "No... I'm not. I'm from Alexandria. Are we near the Luray Caverns and the Skyline?" Matthew asked, trying to orient himself.

  Gareth tilted his head, his expression a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

  "Alexandria? Luray Caverns? Skyline?" he repeated, testing the unfamiliar words. "I'm afraid I don't recognize those places, young man. This is the land of Terra—we're near a town called Oakridge, at the edge of the forest known as the Whispering Pines."

  He studied Matthew's face more carefully, then glanced again at the mark on his wrist.

  "I've seen this before," he said quietly. "People appearing from... elsewhere. It happens from time to time." He offered Matthew a hand to help him stand. "The forest has its mysteries."

  As Matthew got to his feet, a wave of dizziness washed over him. Looking down, he noticed his clothes had changed—instead of his firefighter gear, he was wearing simple traveling clothes: a tunic, trousers, and leather boots.

  "The mark on your wrist," Gareth continued, "is unusual. It might mean something important." He gestured toward a path through the trees. "Come. Oakridge is just beyond that ridge. You should speak with Martin at the Adventurer's Guild. He might know more about your situation."

  In the distance, Matthew could see the tops of wooden watchtowers rising above the treeline, and beyond them, what appeared to be farmland.

  "Unless," Gareth added, "you'd prefer to rest here a while longer? You seem quite disoriented."

  Matthew tried to get up and immediately vomited.

  "Yeah, no. I'm sorry, I don't think I'm going anywhere anytime soon," he said, propping himself up against a tree. "Do you have any water?"

  Gareth nodded with understanding, not at all surprised by Matthew's reaction. He set down his herb basket and reached for the waterskin at his belt.

  "Of course," he said, handing it to Matthew. "Drink slowly. Those who appear as you have often need time to adjust."

  Matthew took the waterskin with shaky hands and sipped the cool, fresh water. It tasted cleaner than any water he'd had before.

  Gareth knelt beside him and pulled a small cloth pouch from his vest. He opened it and removed what looked like dried leaves, crushing them between his fingers.

  "This will help with the nausea," he explained, offering Matthew the crushed herbs. "Place it under your tongue. It's made from sentinel root—grows only in the shade of the oldest trees."

  Matthew took the dried herbs from Gareth and placed them under his tongue. Almost immediately, a surprising sensation began to spread through his body. Unlike any medicine he'd taken before, the herbs released a cool, tingling energy that seemed to radiate outward from his mouth, down his throat, and into his stomach.

  The nausea subsided rapidly—too rapidly to be natural—and a strange warmth replaced it. His vision briefly blurred, then sharpened dramatically. The colors of the forest around him seemed more vibrant, the sounds clearer.

  As the herbs dissolved completely, his mind began to drift. Images flashed before him:

  The apartment fire. Children screaming. Smoke so thick he could barely see his hand in front of his face. But somehow, he found every child—even the one hiding in the closet that no one knew was there. Fifteen children total, when there should have only been twelve according to the initial report.

  Then darkness, and a presence. A figure in a black cloak, holding what looked like an old-fashioned ledger. Words appeared in his mind rather than being spoken aloud:

  [ANOMALY DETECTED] [SUBJECT: MATTHEW] [STATUS: TERMINATED] [SOULS COLLECTED: 1/16] [ERROR: SUBJECT ALTERED FATE THREAD OF 15 OTHERS] [SYSTEM INTERVENTION REQUESTED]

  Another presence appeared—this one bright, almost blinding. It seemed to evaluate him.

  [SUBJECT EVALUATION: BRAVE. SELFLESS. POTENTIAL DETECTED.] [RECOMMENDATION: TRANSFER TO ALTERNATE DOMAIN] [MARK: ASSIGNED – CLASS POTENTIAL: GUARDIAN] [TRANSFER INITIATED]

  He remembered gasping, trying to speak: "The children—are they safe?"

  The bright presence answered:

  [SUBJECTS OF CONCERN: UNAFFECTED] [DEATH COLLECTOR WAS ASSIGNED ONLY TO PRIMARY SUBJECT] [THE CHILDREN LIVE]

  Relief washed over him, and then a sensation of being pulled apart and reassembled. Pain and peace simultaneously. And then...

  Matthew blinked, and suddenly it was night. The forest around him was dark except for a small fire that crackled nearby. He was still sitting against the tree, but Gareth had arranged a makeshift camp. He was sitting across from Matthew, adding small sticks to the fire.

  "Welcome back," he said quietly, noticing Matthew's alertness. "You've been in a trance for several hours. The sentinel root sometimes has that effect on... newcomers. How do you feel?"

  The mark on Matthew's wrist pulsed softly in the firelight, seeming brighter than before.

  "This is real, isn't it?" Matthew asked. "What do these newcomers do in this new world? How can I repay you for your care?"

  Gareth studied Matthew's face in the firelight, nodding slowly at his questions.

  "Yes," he said quietly, "this is very real." He poked at the fire with a stick, sending a shower of sparks upward. "As for newcomers like yourself... they adapt. They find their place. Some become farmers, craftsmen, or merchants. Many, especially those with marks like yours, become adventurers."

  He gestured toward the guild medallion hanging from his belt—a simple copper disc with an engraved emblem.

  "The Adventurer's Guild offers structure and purpose. They take on tasks ranging from gathering herbs to hunting monsters. The world can be dangerous, but those with the right skills can thrive." He looked pointedly at Matthew's wrist where the mark glowed softly. "That mark suggests you might have an aptitude for it."

  When Matthew mentioned repayment, Gareth waved his hand dismissively.

  "No need for repayment. Helping those in need is what I do." He reached into his pack and pulled out a small loaf of bread and some dried meat. "Here, you should eat something. The sentinel root takes a toll on the body."

  He offered Matthew the food and continued, "Tomorrow, I'll take you to Oakridge. Martin at the guild can explain things better than I can. He's helped others like you before."

  Gareth glanced up at the stars visible through gaps in the canopy.

  "Rest now. The forest is relatively safe in this area, and I'll keep watch." He added softly, "Your old life is behind you, Matthew. But that doesn't mean you can't build something worthwhile here."

  Matthew slipped into a restless slumber. Nightmares and worries of people he left behind plagued his dreams. He never left a will, his family—his mom and dad would be distraught, his sister would be beside herself, his cousins... he left not one family, but ten. He just wanted to make sure they were okay.

  As he drifted into sleep, his dreams were turbulent and fragmented. Images of the fire mixed with faces of loved ones—his parents with worry etched into their features, his sister crying at what must be his funeral, cousins standing solemnly in black attire. His unconscious mind grappled with the enormity of what he'd lost.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  In his dream, he reached out to them, trying to tell them he was okay, but they couldn't hear him. The distance felt insurmountable.

  Sometime in the deepest part of the night, his dream shifted. He saw a shimmering presence—similar to the one from his earlier memory. It didn't speak in words but conveyed a sensation of reassurance. Somehow, he understood that those he left behind would eventually find peace, that his sacrifice was recognized, that his legacy continued through the lives he saved.

  When he finally woke, the first light of dawn was filtering through the trees. His body felt sore but stronger than yesterday. The mark on his wrist pulsed gently, almost in rhythm with his heartbeat.

  Gareth was already awake, packing his meager supplies into his basket. He noticed Matthew's movement and offered a simple wooden cup filled with what smelled like tea.

  "The first night is always the hardest," he said knowingly. "The dreams... they're part of the transition. Your old life saying goodbye, in a way."

  He sat beside Matthew, his weathered face solemn.

  "I can't tell you that your family won't grieve—they will. But in my experience helping others who've come through like you, there seems to be a... balance to things. The universe rarely takes without giving back in some form."

  Gareth looked toward the direction of Oakridge, barely visible through the trees.

  "You have a chance here that few are given—to start anew, carrying the best parts of who you were into a world that needs good people." He stood, offering Matthew a hand. "Are you ready to see your new home?"

  "Are you a newcomer?" Matthew asked suddenly.

  Gareth looked at him for a long moment, then a slight smile crossed his weathered face. He glanced down at his copper medallion, then back at Matthew.

  "Yes," he admitted quietly. "I am. Though it's been so long now that Terra feels more like home than the place I came from." He ran a hand along his beard, his eyes distant with memory.

  "I arrived in these woods nearly forty years ago. I was a botanist in my... previous life. Studying medicinal plants in rainforests when there was an accident. A flood, a fall from a cliff..." He shook his head. "The details blur with time."

  Gareth offered Matthew more tea and continued, "The transition is different for each of us. Some adapt quickly, others struggle for years. I was fortunate—my knowledge of plants transferred well to this world, though I had to learn which ones could kill me and which could heal."

  He gestured to the herb basket. "Made myself useful to Oakridge as their herbalist. Eventually joined the guild—made it to Copper rank before I decided adventuring wasn't for me. Too old for that now, anyway."

  His eyes focused on Matthew's mark again. "That's different, though. My mark was green—tied to my affinity for plant life. Yours... yours suggests something else. Fire, perhaps. Protection."

  Gareth stood slowly, stretching his back.

  "There are others in Oakridge. Not many, but enough. Martin at the guild is one—though he doesn't speak of it often. Ivy at the Sleeping Dragon, too." He offered Matthew a hand. "We look out for each other. You won't be alone in this, Matthew."

  "Where did you come from as a botanist?" Matthew asked, curious about his newfound companion.

  Gareth gave a small chuckle as Matthew asked about his origins. He looked around, as if making sure they were alone, then spoke in a lower voice.

  "I was working at Columbia University's Botanical Research Center in New New York," he said with unexpected clarity. "This was after the Resource Wars, of course—what you might have called World War III in your time. The coastal barriers had just been completed, and we were researching plants that could grow in irradiated soil."

  He pulled out a strange-looking root from his pouch, examining it in the morning light.

  "I had just received a hologram transmission from our satellite facility in Neo-Shanghai when I went to check on our experimental garden." He shook his head. "There was some kind of accident with the radiation containment field. One moment I was taking readings, the next I was here, disoriented and terrified, much like you."

  The mention of New New York, Resource Wars, coastal barriers, and hologram transmissions made it unmistakably clear he was from a different future Earth than Matthew's 2020s world.

  "The transition is easier for some than others," he continued. "My knowledge of botany transferred well, but I had to unlearn my dependence on genetic sequencers and nanotech cultivation tools." He smiled ruefully. "Took me years to learn to work with my hands again."

  Gareth offered Matthew a hand to help him up.

  "Where did you come from, Matthew? What year was it for you? The newcomers I've met have all been from different times, different versions of Earth. Some recognize the names of places I knew, others don't."

  "Alexandria, Virginia," Matthew replied. "Grew up from immigrant parents who wanted a better life. America was it, and they were right. It wasn't easy but it was hell of a lot better than 'make it rich in the Philippines.' There, even when you were rich, you were still from a poor country. My parents gave up a lot to come here. Dad was a scientist and mom an accountant. Dad became a brick layer then studied his ass off to be an HVAC tech. Mom went from cashier job to cashier job till she got a job in the backrooms as the accountant."

  Gareth listened intently as Matthew shared his story, nodding occasionally in recognition.

  "Alexandria, Virginia," he repeated, testing the name. "I know of a different Alexandria from my world's history, but not yours. It's fascinating how Earth seems to exist in so many variations."

  He helped Matthew to his feet, steadying him when he wavered slightly.

  "Your parents sound like remarkable people," he said with genuine respect. "That kind of determination—giving up everything familiar to build a better life—that's a quality that serves well here in Terra too."

  As they began walking slowly along the forest path toward Oakridge, Gareth continued, "The newcomers I've met often share that trait—resilience. Perhaps that's why we're chosen." He glanced at Matthew's mark. "Your parents' journey from the Philippines to America, your journey from firefighter to... whatever you'll become here. Not so different in spirit."

  The trees began to thin as they walked, revealing glimpses of farmland ahead. In the distance, wooden watchtowers rose above a palisade wall.

  "Oakridge was my second chance," Gareth said. "It can be yours too. The guild will help you find your footing. Martin will explain the ranking system, the quests. Willow can outfit you with basic gear." He gestured to Matthew's clothes. "What you're wearing now won't protect you much if you venture into the forest."

  As they approached the edge of the trees, he added, "The people of Oakridge are good folks. Some know about newcomers, others don't. It's usually best not to speak too openly about where you came from. Not everyone understands."

  The morning sun illuminated the full view of Oakridge before them—the walled inner settlement, the surrounding farmlands with workers already tending crops, the three guard posts positioned at the perimeter.

  "Welcome to your new home, Matthew," Gareth said. "Ready to meet it?"

  "No," Matthew said bluntly. "Is anybody?"

  Gareth's weathered face broke into a sympathetic smile as he stopped walking.

  "No," he said quietly. "No one ever is."

  He glanced back at the forest, then to Oakridge, then to Matthew.

  "I spent my first three days in Terra hiding in a hollow log," he admitted. "Convinced I was hallucinating from radiation poisoning." He let out a small laugh. "The first time I saw a slime bouncing through the underbrush, I nearly lost my mind."

  Gareth leaned on his staff, giving Matthew time.

  "We can wait here a while longer if you need. Or find a quiet way into town—there's a small gate near the eastern watchtower used mostly by farmers. Fewer curious eyes."

  He reached into his pouch and pulled out a small, smooth stone with faint runes etched into its surface.

  "Here," he offered it to Matthew. "A worry stone. Local custom. When things get overwhelming, rub your thumb across it. Helps ground you to the present. I carried one for years."

  He looked at Matthew with understanding in his eyes.

  "It's okay to not be ready. It's okay to be afraid. This world can wait another hour, or another day. We take it one step at a time."

  "No way," Matthew responded with surprising determination. "Firefighters are about accepting, learning, and adapting. Can we find a slime first? Is it like a video game?"

  Gareth's eyes lit up at Matthew's words, and he gave a genuine laugh.

  "That's the spirit! Firefighters adapt—I should have known," he said with appreciation. "And yes, we can certainly find a slime first. There's a small clearing not far from here where they tend to gather in the mornings."

  He adjusted his course, leading Matthew along a different path that skirted the edge of the farmland.

  "As for whether it's like a video game..." Gareth considered this carefully. "Yes and no. There are certainly elements that might feel familiar—the Adventurer's Guild has a ranking system, there are quests, monsters drop useful items. But this is real life, Matthew. Real pain, real consequences."

  He pointed to a small scar on his forearm. "Got that from a minor slime when I first arrived. Thought it would be harmless. It wasn't."

  As they walked, he explained further: "The simplest slimes aren't too dangerous—they're actually perfect for beginners. The guild often sends Iron-rank adventurers to deal with them when they get too close to the farmlands. They're attracted to farm plots during dry spells."

  Ahead, they saw a small meadow where several bluish, translucent masses about the size of basketballs bounced lazily among the wildflowers.

  "There they are," Gareth whispered, crouching behind a fallen log. "Water slimes—the most common type. See how they absorb moisture from the grass as they move? They're mostly harmless unless provoked, but even these little ones can give you a nasty burn if the water inside them is compressed suddenly."

  He handed Matthew a small knife from his belt. "Want to try your hand at your first monster? Just be careful—approach from behind, strike quickly, and move away. If you damage them enough, they'll sort of... pop. Sometimes they leave behind a core—a small crystallized essence. Those are valuable to alchemists like Elira in town."

  Gareth watches as Matthew takes the knife with determination, approaching the water slime with the confidence of someone who's faced similar challenges in games.

  The slime notices Matthew too late as he lunges forward, but his strike misses as the gelatinous creature bounces unexpectedly to the side. Its body quivers—a sign of aggression—and it launches itself toward him.

  Matthew dodges one attack, then another, showing surprising agility. When he finally connects with a stab, his hand pushes partially into its body. He immediately pulls back with a pained expression, his skin reddened where the slime's water made contact.

  "They're more acidic than they look," Gareth comments quietly, letting Matthew handle this challenge on his own.

  Matthew's tactical thinking kicks in as he grabs a nearby rock and hurls it at the slime. The creature engulfs the stone but can't process it, its movements becoming awkward and unbalanced. With keen observation, he notices a deeper blue-green spot within its translucent body—something like an organ or nucleus.

  With newfound purpose, Matthew strikes precisely at this spot. The slime shudders, then bursts with a splash of harmless water. Where it stood moments ago lies a small blue crystal about the size of his thumbnail, gleaming in the morning light.

  A strange sensation washes over Matthew as knowledge seems to imprint itself directly into his mind:

  [SLIME DEFEATED] [EXP GAINED: 5] [ITEM DROPPED: MINOR WATER CORE] [SKILL GAINED: MONSTER IDENTIFICATION LVL 1]

  "Well done," Gareth says, approaching with a cloth to wrap around Matthew's reddened hand. "Not many newcomers handle their first monster so effectively. You adapted quickly—noticed the core location on your own. That's impressive."

  Gareth picks up the core and hands it to Matthew. "This is yours. First trophy as an adventurer. It's worth about 2 copper at the guild—not much, but it's a start. More importantly, you've gained your first skill."

  He looks at Matthew with new respect. "Did you... receive any sort of message? In your mind?"

  "Yeah, how did you know?" Matthew asked. "Do you have the same thing?"

  Gareth's stoic expression softened slightly, a flash of recognition crossing his face.

  "Yes," he replied, his voice lowering. "It happened to me too, after my first encounter. Different for everyone, but similar enough." He glanced around, ensuring they were alone.

  "The system, as some call it. Seems to be part of how this world works—at least for people like us." He tapped his temple. "Messages in the mind. Skills that develop suddenly. It's as if Terra itself recognizes what we do and rewards it."

  Gareth carefully put his cloth and supplies back in his pouch, movements deliberate and practiced.

  "It's not something the locals experience, at least not in the same way. They learn skills gradually, through practice. But newcomers..." He looked directly at Matthew. "We seem to be... recognized differently by whatever power governs this world."

  He gestured toward the path to Oakridge.

  "Martin can explain it better than I can. He's studied it more extensively. Some newcomers become obsessed with gaining levels and skills, treating everything like a game." His expression hardened. "Those are the ones who don't last long. This world has real consequences, even with its game-like elements."

  Gareth started walking, indicating Matthew should follow.

  "What skills did you receive? Monster Identification?" He nodded approvingly. "Useful. Helps you spot weaknesses, know which creatures to approach and which to avoid."

  As they continued toward Oakridge, Matthew rolled the small blue crystal between his fingers, feeling its cool smoothness. The mark on his wrist pulsed in time with his heartbeat, a constant reminder that his life had changed forever. Behind them, more slimes bounced peacefully in the meadow, unaware of the significance of this moment.

  The walls of Oakridge grew larger on the horizon, a new beginning waiting just beyond.