A rhythmic tugging at his hair dragged Krag from oblivion. He swatted. A low growl vibrated in his chest, raw and weak. The searing pain in his side flared, stealing his breath as his vision swam. It focused on familiar, vacant yellow eyes and a scarred, one-eared head. Larry. The goat was methodically gnawing a matted lock of Krag's hair like stubborn lichen.
Krag shoved the goat away with more annoyance than force, his arm heavy. A wave of disorientation washed over him. Goat? His thoughts rasped, raw as his throat. Here too? Dead then? Both of us?
He tried to shift. Fresh agony tore a gasp from him. No. This pain was different from a spirit’s touch; it was real. His back ground against something hard and sharp: the crushed, smoking remnants of the silver orb. Beneath him, the ground felt soft, covered in vibrant green grass that was strange to his bare skin. The air was thick, sweet with a cloying scent of sugar and something false.
This wasn't his island. This was no place he knew.
Propped against the orb wreckage, ingrained instinct overrode Krag's disorientation. The wound. He had to see to it. His fingers, slick with blood, probed his side. A deep, ragged puncture. Each breath sent fresh agony through him.
Bad. This is bad, he thought.
His gaze swept the limited area he could reach. He found no familiar broadleaves for poultices, nor any specific muds he knew for staunching blood. There was only this perfect, alien grass and bizarre, geometrically shaped shrubs with waxy leaves nearby. His gaze fixed on a smaller, sharp-edged fragment of the shattered orb lying close.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, he picked it up. If there was debris in the wound, it had to come out, he resolved.
From his propped position, he roughly explored the puncture, wincing as metal scraped bone. The grim work dislodged a larger, surprisingly intact shard of the silver sphere. It was fist-sized and oddly cool despite the smoking ruin. A faint light pulsed deep within its metallic core. Krag placed it carefully beside him, his focus returning to the task of digging smaller, sharper splinters from his flesh.
Then he noticed something. The flow of blood from the main wound, which should have been a torrent, was slowing. It wasn't stopping entirely; instead, it congealed with unnatural quickness to a sluggish, dark ooze. He paused, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. This wasn't right. Wounds this deep didn't just stop bleeding. A small pool of his blood, dark against the vivid green grass, had formed where some extracted debris had fallen. As he watched, the grass under the blood seemed to shimmer. A soft, golden light pulsed faintly from the ground itself. The calm, disembodied voice from before echoed in his skull, now accompanied by glowing symbols that coalesced on a nearby, perfectly smooth grey rock.
[Unscheduled Biological Contamination Alert!]
[Please refrain from... leaking on the Welcome Meadow. Initiating Localized Aesthetic Maintenance Protocol.]
[Note: Participant #ERROR_UNREGISTERED has received complimentary Emergency Medical Intervention (Tier 0.5 – Basic Leak Stoppage).]
[This courtesy service is usually reserved for Platinum Tier members or those who demonstrate significantly less... messiness.]
Krag blinked at the glowing rock, then back at his wound. Larry, having ambled closer, now nosed at the VUL-CN7 core shard Krag had set down. Krag understood none of the spirit-talk, but the bleeding was less. Spirits of this place, then, he thought. Powerful ones. And fussy about cleanliness.
The voice continued in his skull, symbols shifting on the rock:
[System Recalculating Service Charges...]
[Attempting to debit linked MythraCorp account for medical services rendered: 750 Laurels. Transaction Failed: Account Not Found. Oh dear.]
[Applying outstanding balance of -750 Laurels to Temporary Anomaly File LX-001.]
[We do hope you'll enjoy our convenient repayment options, available upon successful registration!]
[Delinquency may affect your Interplanar Credit Score, just saying.]
A new set of symbols appeared on the rock, stark and bright: -750 L.
He managed to shift, grunting with the effort, into a more upright seated position against the orb wreckage. From there, he tore a strip from his ragged loincloth and began the awkward process of binding his wound. The pain was still a raging fire, but the immediate threat of bleeding out seemed to have lessened, thanks to these strange, chattering spirits.
The voice in his head grew more insistent: [Anomaly Alert Remains Active!] New symbols glowed on a large, perfectly heart-shaped leaf. It unfurled itself from one of the nearby bizarre shrubs, positioning itself in his line of sight.
[Participant #ERROR_UNREGISTERED, for your continued... existence... and to ensure an optimal Onboarding Experience??, please confirm your identity and consent to the Mythra Worlds Immersion Agreement (Ultra:Alpha Edition, Rev. 3.4.5b; you'll love the arbitration clause!).]
[Failure to comply is, shall we say, heavily frowned upon.]
[A simple 'I Enthusiastically Consent to All Terms and Subsequent Revisions, Seen or Unseen!' will suffice.]
[Probably.]
Krag swatted at the glowing leaf as if it were a bothersome insect, his focus on finishing the crude bandage around his ribs. He let out a pained hiss. The effort sent fresh jolts of agony through him.
His immediate self-care done, however crudely, he saw Larry again. The goat had moved on from just licking the VUL-CN7 core shard. It now had the blunt end of the fist-sized piece in its mouth, already half-coated in slobber, and was actively, if awkwardly, attempting to swallow it. Strained, gurgling bleats erupted from Larry. His eyes widened slightly as the shard clearly became lodged.
Stone-headed goat…
Painfully, Krag made a short, difficult drag of his body to reach Larry. He pried the goat's stubborn jaw open and retrieved the shard. It was now thoroughly coated in thick, foamy goat saliva. With annoyance, Krag wiped a majority of mess off on a patch of the unnervingly perfect grass.
The shard felt strangely balanced. His club lay within reach, caked in ash and smeared with alien grass. He retrieved his club as well, then examined both it and the still spit-coated shard. Turning the VUL-CN7 core shard in his hand, he tested its edges. Finding one edge sufficiently sharp, he began to laboriously carve a rough channel into the dense wood at the head of his club using the shard.
He then positioned the fist-sized shard in the groove. Took a rock fragment. A crude hammer. Then he beat the shard into the wood. It bit deep. Lodged firmly. The club groaned. Although not elegant, the added weight and the shard's edge transformed the club into something more lethal. The shard remained inert, its faint light unseen by him in the bright meadow.
As he held his newly modified club, feeling its unfamiliar, front-heavy balance, symbols flared anew on another smooth grey rock nearby.
[New Skill Unlocked: Basic Weapon Crafting (Level 1)! Congratulations, Anomaly LX-001!]
[Item Successfully Created: 'Pointy-Object-Tied-To-Other-Object'.]
[Rarity: Sub-Optimal Grade (Performance not guaranteed. Or, frankly, expected.)]
[Access to crucial data such as 'Damage Potential (Likely minimal),' 'Expected Durability (Likely poor),' and 'Chance of Self-Disassembly During Vigorous Use' is, regrettably, a premium feature for Registered Participants.]
[Why risk tetanus and disappointment? Register today to unlock full item diagnostics and our exclusive accidental dismemberment waiver!]
Krag grunted, his glare fixing on the glowing rock.
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
More spirit chatter. Annoying.
From his seated position, still leaning against the orb wreckage, he hurled his modified club. The makeshift axe spun end over end through the air. It struck the 'chattering' rock with a solid crack, shattering it into a dozen pieces. The glowing symbols winked out with a faint sizzle. A flicker of grim satisfaction touched Krag's lips.
Better.
Bracing himself fully against the jagged, smoking wreckage of the orb, Krag began the truly laborious process of pushing himself upright. Each shift of weight, every strained muscle, sent a brutal tearing through his wounded side. Grunts and pained gasps escaped him, but he finally managed it, swaying unsteadily as the world tilted. His gaze fixed on where his modified club lay amidst the shattered rock. He moved stiffly and retrieved it, the still embedded shard glinting.
He was injured. He was in a land of babbling spirits and impossible colors. But he was alive. His hand tightened on the weapon. He scanned the too-perfect, empty meadow, his eyes narrowed.
What manner of spirit world was this?
As if in answer to his unspoken question, the calm, disembodied voice echoed in his skull once more. Simultaneously, glowing symbols began to etch themselves onto a large, unnaturally smooth slab of grey stone nearby. The stone now pulsed with a soft internal light.
[Welcome to the Meadow of Serene Acclimatization, Participant LX-001!]
[For your convenience and to begin your tailored Onboarding Experience??, please proceed to the Participant Orientation Gazebo (POG #1).]
[Simply follow the clearly marked and entirely non-threatening Luminescent Pathway ??!]
The glowing trail pulsed with an irregular light, drawing his immediate distrust.
Spirit paths.
His people believed only fools and the already dead walked such paths; they led to traps, to places no living man should go. This whole manicured meadow, with its too-perfect grass and that shimmering line trying to lead him to a mushroom-hut, felt wrong. A pen, designed for herding livestock, not a place for a man. He would not be led.
Dismissing the shimmering invitation, his attention swept to the meadow's perimeter. A sheer rock face rose at the far edge of the unnervingly neat grass, dark stone stark against the bizarre, geometrically shaped shrubs that grew sparser near its base. A jagged, almost vertical ascent. It would be a brutal climb for his injured body. Yet, it promised what he needed most: higher ground. From there, he could survey this strange valley and better understand its layout beyond this 'welcome' trap. That was the first, non-negotiable step in any new territory. To see. To understand. To adapt.
His decision solidified by a fresh surge of defiance, Krag began to walk. He headed directly towards the base of the cliff, his modified club held ready, pointedly turning his back on the glowing pathway.
The System's voice returned, a new layer of programmed patience in its tone. Symbols materialized on the approaching cliff-face and vibrated into place.
[Participant LX-001 has deviated from the suggested Onboarding Itinerary.]
[Recalculating optimal route...]
[Please reverse direction and rejoin the Luminescent Pathway?? for a seamless transition to POG #1.]
[Your satisfaction is our... well, it's prominently featured in our mission statement somewhere.]
The Luminescent Pathway?? itself pulsed a little brighter.
Krag didn't even glance at it. He kept his pace steady towards the cliff. These spirits, he thought, were not used to being ignored.
The golden pathway suddenly attempted to adapt. A new tendril of light snaked out from the main trail, angling to intercept him. It shimmered into existence directly in front of his feet.
The voice chirped again, its digital bewilderment growing:
[Curious navigational choice, Participant LX-001!]
[While Mythra Worlds applauds initiative, the Luminescent Pathway?? is engineered for maximum onboarding efficiency.]
[Are you experiencing difficulties with the illuminated route? Visual acuity recalibration is available. (Service fees may apply.)]
Krag stepped deliberately over the new glowing line without breaking stride. He reached the base of the cliff. A tumble of loose scree and oddly smooth, almost hand-made looking blocks lay at its foot, half-overgrown by the vibrant grass. He found his first handhold on the dark rock. It felt strangely warm in places, unnaturally cold in others. The "pleasant" chime that had accompanied the path now morphed into a series of insistent, slightly discordant beeps from somewhere around him. Sections of the path he pointedly ignored, still trying to snake up the lower part of the cliff face below, began to flash with an almost aggressive brightness.
The voice in his head suddenly blared, losing all pretense of calm:
[ROUTE DEVIATION CRITICAL!]
[Participant LX-001 is now... significantly off-piste!]
[Does the fundamental concept of 'following simple, glowing instructions for your own benefit' present an unusual cognitive challenge?]
[WARNING: Premature exposure to unsanctioned environmental parameters circumvents vital preparatory stages, risking dangerous engagement with un-tested flora, fauna, and existential quandaries.]
[REALLY. FOLLOW. THE. PATH!]
[MAKE AN IMMEDIATE RIGHT TURN AT THE NEXT CLUSTER OF-static-AROMATIC FUNGAL CLUSTERS (if applicable)!]
A large, cartoonish, pulsating golden arrow appeared on the cliff face just above him, pointing emphatically back down.
Krag ignored the pulsating arrow. He forced the shard-edge of his club into a crevice with a pained exhalation, then used it to pull himself upwards. The arrow flickered and vanished with a sad little pffft.
His ascent was a brutal, agonizing affair from the first move. The cliff face itself was a bizarre patchwork. Sections of natural, weathered stone offered decent, if sharp, holds. Interspersed with these were stretches of unnervingly smooth, almost metallic surfaces where his calloused fingers skittered, finding no purchase.
He reached for a protruding knob of what looked like solid rock. As his weight transferred, a violent spasm, originating from the raw wound in his side, shot through his torso. His vision blotted white for a searing instant. His fingers, unbidden, loosened their grip on the rock, and one foot scrabbled, dislodging a spray of loose scree that rattled into the silence below.
For a sickening moment, he dangled by one hand and a shakily lodged club, the meadow spinning far beneath him.
A guttural snarl ripped from his throat, a sound of outrage at his own flesh for its momentary, almost fatal betrayal. His wounded side throbbed, a fresh spike of pain a mocking reminder of his vulnerability. With a surge of adrenaline born of sheer, primal refusal to die here, to be beaten by this indifferent rock and his own weakness, he clamped his fingers back onto the hold. The rough stone bit into his palm, a grounding sensation as he found his footing again.
The wave of nausea receded. The spirit-voice’s earlier words about ‘untested dangers’ echoed in his mind: a smug warning from the chattering unseen thing that sought to control him. This cliff, this treacherous, crumbling rock that had nearly claimed him, felt like a deliberate trap in this accursed spirit world. A cold fury settled into his bones, his gaze narrowing and tightening his jaw.
He continued up, more deliberately now, each movement tested. He encountered areas where the rock seemed to shimmer faintly, the patterns within it subtly shifting like water an instant before he touched them.
Once, a handhold crumbled away. Instead of solid stone, it revealed a bundle of strange, fibrous vines that sparked faintly before the hole sealed itself with a texture that didn't quite match the surrounding rock. He saw patches of moss that pulsed with a faint, internal light and smelled of ozone, and strange, crystal-like growths that hummed with a low vibration.
This "spirit world" was poorly made, he thought, or perhaps, still being born from fragile bones.
The spirit's babbling had become nothing more than a background irritation, like the buzzing of a persistent insect he no longer had the energy to swat.
The climb turned into a slow, practiced rhythm until finally, his hand reached the cliff’s edge. With a final defiant pull, he hauled himself over the lip of the cliff onto the narrow, windswept ledge and solid ground.
He collapsed, air sawing in and out of his lungs. He laid still for several heartbeats, feeling the cold of the rock seep into him, soothing against the burning pain. The wind tore at his exposed form and he blinked against it, fighting back black spots that swam in his vision.
Slowly, painstakingly, he pushed himself to sit, his club clattering to his side. He felt like one massive, tender bruise.
But he noticed the pain was different now. The climb had forced a dull, radiating heat through his limbs, much like the burn before a hunt or a hard fight when muscles loosened and readied. The wound still felt like a hot coal embedded in his flesh, but the sharpest, incapacitating stabs from the ascent had receded. Now, the pain was a more constant, grinding thing. Terrible, but something he could endure.
He took a ragged breath, then another, forcing air deeper. The dizziness lessened. His sight cleared. He was alive.
From this ledge, his view was expansive. The "Meadow of Serene Acclimatization" spread out below, a manicured carpet. Its shocking green contrasted with the darker, more rugged terrain that began just beyond its sharply defined edges. The pale, mushroom-like structure of POG #1 was clearly visible now, looking even more alien and out of place. From this height, the Luminescent Pathway?? looked like a pathetic scribble trying to lead to it.
Beyond the meadow, the landscape shifted dramatically. He saw glimpses of other zones, each equally bizarre. A forest of glowing crystal trees. A desert where sand swirled in impossible, contained vortexes. In the far distance, colossal structures scraped the alien sky; too geometric and vast to be natural. This "land of spirits" was far larger and stranger than he could have imagined. And everywhere, if he looked just right, a faint, almost invisible grid seemed to shimmer in the air, hinting at some vast, unseen cage. There was no sign of his island or familiar ocean.
The voice sighed from nowhere, startling him back from his thoughts. Its sound was thin and laced with static:
[PATHWAY ADHERENCE FAILURE.]
[PARTICIPANT LX-001 ACTIVELY RESISTING ONBOARDING. LOGGING INCIDENT #774-ALPHA-FAIL.]
[Query: Initiate 'Loud Noise Startle Protocol'? Negative: Risk of floral distress & Anomaly aggression above parameters.]
[Query: Dispatch 'Gentle Persuasion Drone MK.II'? Recommendation pending “Budgetary review.”]
[System recalibrating to Passive Monitoring and Essential Event Notification Mode regarding Participant LX-001.]
[Good luck. You'll need it.]
