The wind drifted lazily across the sky, gently herding the white clouds like sheep. Leaves rustled in the trees, adding a peaceful rhythm to the scene, while birds chirped softly overhead. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting flickering shadows across the face of a boy lying on the grass.

  His eyes fluttered open.

  He raised a hand to shield them from the brilliance of the sun, blinking against the light.

  “What an interesting dream,” he muttered, his voice groggy.

  Stretching his arm toward the sky, he reached as if to grasp the drifting clouds—then abruptly sat upright, staring at his hands. He turned them over, then quickly pressed them against his cheeks, feeling the smooth skin, the firmness of youth.

  Looking down at himself, he froze. His body was... different.

  Nearby, a small pond shimmered under the morning light. Crawling toward it on his hands and knees, he leaned over and peered into the water.

  A young face stared back.

  Gone were the wrinkles, the age-worn skin he’d seen in the mirror every day for the last few decades. But more than that—it wasn’t even the younger version of himself he remembered. No, this face was different.

  He took a deep breath and focused.

  As he concentrated, his reflection began to shift. His chin sharpened, his features grew more defined, and his eyes widened. The soft, androgynous look he’d worn moments ago gave way to something stronger, more familiar—his old high school self. His skin darkened slightly, and his eyebrows arched into that confident glare he’d once carried with ease.

  It was strange. Surreal.

  But it made sense.

  This was the version of himself he had clung to in his dreams. The golden years of his fantasy—youth, vigor, and unrestrained imagination. It was who he saw himself as, deep inside.

  As he relaxed, his features softened again—his eyes narrowing just a touch, his skin lightening, his jaw smoothing. The image in the pond became gentler, more fluid. Still him, but free of strict definition.

  He smiled at the reflection.

  “It’s strange… but I guess it’s no surprise this is how I see myself. How many light novel protagonists have I read about—or seen in manga and anime—with features like this?”

  He stood, brushing dirt from his trousers, and stretched high toward the sky. His back arched, his joints popped, and he let out a satisfied sigh.

  “Ah… how long has it been since I could stretch like this?”

  Looking over himself again, he noted the dark brown boots rising to mid-calf, the lightweight black trousers, the white pleated shirt tucked beneath a red sash belt, and the brown woven cloak fluttering around his legs.

  These clothes…

  They were familiar.

  He had worn them in his rune visions, back in his old life. He had walked the astral plane in this very outfit when learning his craft. It wasn’t just nostalgia—it was part of who he was, and always had been.

  Turning back, he spotted his old staff leaning against the trunk of a towering cedar. He approached slowly, eyes tracing the thick, moss-covered bark that twisted upward into a vast canopy above. The branches stretched in every direction like the ribs of a cathedral, casting light and shadow across the forest floor. The scent of pine and earth filled the air—ancient and grounding.

  A single shaft of sunlight cut through the leaves, illuminating the staff like a divine spotlight.

  “Fitting, I suppose,” he murmured with a grin.

  Excitement bubbled up inside him.

  “Finally!” he shouted, arms wide—then quickly slapped a hand over his mouth. The forest felt sacred, like a place not meant for loud voices.

  More subdued, he whispered, “Open Status.”

  A glowing plate materialized in the air before him, flickering with unstable light. Lines of divine script twisted, rearranged, and then settled into place.

  He stared.

  A goofy grin spread across his face. This wasn’t a dream.

  It was real.

  He had been reborn into a fantasy world. Magic. Skills. Classes. All of it.

  But as his eyes moved down the screen, his smile faltered. Then his eyebrows rose. His jaw dropped.

  “What the hell is this?!” he shouted, completely forgetting his earlier reverence.

  Name: Ren

  Race: Human??? (Demigod???)

  Alignment: Chaotic Good

  Deity: Heimdall

  Class: Mage???

  Level: ????

  Title(s): Apostle of Heimdall, Guardian Watcher, Blessed by the Fates, World Creator

  [Additional Detail to be added]

  After the initial shock of seeing his absurd status screen, Ren finally returned to his senses. He had expected to be overpowered—as an apostle of a major god like Heimdall, that much was inevitable—but this was beyond anything he imagined.

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  It was ridiculous.

  And worrying.

  If Heimdall had warned him to be cautious around other apostles—demi-gods, really—then there were clearly beings out there who could rival or surpass him. That alone was enough to keep him alert.

  Two other thoughts came to mind.

  First, there was no way he could ever show anyone his status. Not like this.

  Second, the way things stood now... the world wouldn't be any fun. He wasn’t ready to jump into divine duties just yet. There would be time for that—fighting outsiders and dealing with cosmic threats—but right now? He just wanted to live a slow life and get used to his new strength. Maybe learn how this fantasy world worked for normal people.

  “Ah,” he sighed. “I always did like those protagonists who just wanted to live the easy life.”

  He picked up his staff and glanced around. From the look of things, he was deep within a medieval forest. His senses, now finely tuned with divine perception, picked up on nearby creatures—but none dared approach. They instinctively sensed his presence.

  “Hm,” he murmured. “Let’s start by hiding my stats.”

  The simplest method, he figured, would be to seal away the more troublesome ones. Thankfully, he had max-level identity protection. That should keep him safe from casual appraisal.

  Then a thought struck him.

  A look of realization crossed his face. “Ah, of course. I can use my World Creation skill to generate a fake status window. I’ll seal away my divinity—while setting a safeguard to automatically release it if I’m ever in mortal danger.”

  He nodded to himself.

  “Keep Danger Sense and Appraisal at max but hidden… Class can stay as Mage for now, and Race as Human. Eventually, I’ll probably switch to a Fighter-Mage Elf—that was always my favorite setup in the old RPGs.”

  Muttering to himself, he pieced together the design like an old character sheet from his tabletop days. Once satisfied, he waved his hand.

  “Status Open.”

  The same blue window appeared, but this time the divine script settled into something much more... normal-looking.

  Name: Ren

  Race: Human (Demigod [Hidden])

  Alignment: Chaotic Good

  Deity: Heimdall

  Class: Mage

  Level: 21

  Title(s): None

  Apostle of Heimdall [Hidden], Guardian Watcher [Hidden], Blessed by the Fates [Hidden], World Creator [Hidden]

  [Additional Detail to be added]

  He exhaled in relief.

  “Much better. That’s one problem taken care of.”

  With another wave of his hand, a small globe materialized in his palm. A miniature world spun slowly in the air, complete with a glowing sun and two moons drifting in orbit.

  He studied it carefully.

  Three major continents spread across the surface, with clusters of smaller islands dotting the oceans. A small red dot pulsed gently on one of the central continents—his current location.

  As he zoomed in, something strange caught his eye.

  The world looked like a planet viewed from space, but there were no other planets orbiting the sun. More curious still, a translucent golden lattice surrounded the globe—a barrier of some kind, positioned halfway between the planet and its moons.

  Frowning, Ren glanced up at the sky.

  Nothing was visible with the naked eye.

  He activated his All-Seeing Eye.

  His vision shifted. The clouds swelled in size, the blue of the sky grew lighter… and slowly, the golden barrier revealed itself.

  “Ah,” he murmured. “So this shield covers the whole world... Maybe it’s part of what stabilizes the astral realm. Keeps it from warping constantly as people's thoughts shift.”

  He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, the gesture making him look like a sage or philosopher. Of course, seeing such a serious pose on someone with the face of a teenager was more than a little comical.

  Refocusing on the globe in his palm, the image zoomed further. The red dot expanded, and the world slowly flattened, unfolding like a parchment map.

  A dense forest spread in every direction.

  Ren swiped across the vision, revealing the surrounding region. Beyond the forest, green and golden grasslands rolled gently over the hills. He spotted something—gray, rounded walls at the edge of the clearing.

  Zooming in, his eyes lit up.

  It was a town. A walled city, small but well-structured. Stone streets, timber-framed houses, and a castle keep rising from the center.

  It didn’t look huge—maybe seventy thousand people, tops—but that wasn’t what excited him most.

  He could see movement.

  Tiny figures walked the streets. Carriages pulled by massive, lizard-like creatures—smaller than dinosaurs, about the size of a bison or a Clydesdale horse—traveled along the main roads.

  His grin widened.

  “This is it. The starting town,” he said, clapping his hands. “Every protagonist needs one.”

  He turned his eyes back to the map. “Let’s head there and learn about this world properly. Even if I know some things… I really have no clue what this world is like yet. This is exciting!”

  The grin on his face was so wide, his cheeks actually started to ache. He hadn't smiled this much in years.

  “Alright! Time for an adventure.”

  He studied the road leading from the gate into the forest. “Let’s start just inside the treeline—better to appear there so no one sees us pop in. That’ll give me time to gather my thoughts.”

  Focusing on a spot near the forest’s edge, Ren closed his eyes. His brow twitched with concentration.

  And in the blink of an eye—

  He vanished from the center of the woods and reappeared at its edge, where the sunlight poured over golden grasslands. A well-worn dirt road stretched out before him, cutting through the pasture like a path into destiny.

  As Ren took his first step out of the forest, a high-pitched shriek pierced the air ahead. He focused his hearing and picked out the frantic sounds of shouting.

  “Don’t let them surround us! Leah, move to the right! Cale, target the big one at the back—I’m sure that’s the leader! Dominic, get Mary back and heal her. I’ll cover you, but make it quick!”

  Low, guttural growls mixed with the sharp whistle of steel and the grunts of effort. Ren sharpened his focus and spotted a merchant carriage under attack by a pack of massive wolves—each nearly the size of a small horse. One of the carriage’s horses was already down, its throat clamped in the fangs of a black-furred beast. The other reared in terror, trying to escape, neighing frantically as it dragged the carriage sideways.

  The merchant standing atop the driver’s seat clung to the reins in vain. With a loud crash, the wheels caught in a rut and the carriage capsized. The panicked horse broke free, snapping its harness and bolting straight toward Ren, a wolf nipping at its heels.

  Foam sprayed from the horse’s mouth, its eyes wild. Without hesitation, Ren sprinted forward. Swinging his staff in a tight arc, he thrust it toward the sky. A blade of sharpened earth erupted beneath the pursuing wolf, slicing it cleanly in half.

  Without slowing, he spun his staff again. A horizontal gust of wind spiraled forward like a mini tornado, slamming into the terrified horse and creating a headwind that slowed its charge. The beast stumbled, its breath ragged, foam dripping from its muzzle. At last, it collapsed near Ren, sides heaving, eyes rolling in exhaustion.

  Ren placed a hand gently against its neck and released a wave of calming energy. The warmth of the spell eased its panic, and the horse lay still, utterly spent but safe.

  A hundred meters ahead, the overturned carriage lay still as five people struggled to fend off six wolves that circled like predators closing in for the kill. They moved in a synchronized rhythm—one lunged while the others waited, constantly shifting, keeping their enemies on edge.

  Further back, on a low rise in the grassland, a large gray wolf stood snarling. Its deep growls and howls acted like commands, orchestrating the attacks. It was clearly the leader.

  A knight in chainmail and a steel helm tried repeatedly to charge the alpha wolf, only to be intercepted each time by snapping jaws and flashing claws. His shield bore fresh claw marks, already dented from the repeated blows.

  On the ground, a woman in red robes struggled to sit up, assisted by another knight wearing a breastplate. His hands glowed with soft light as he desperately channeled healing energy into her. Against the side of the carriage crouched a teenage girl with a bow, her back pressed to the wood as she fired arrows with precision. But the wolves were nimble, evading each shot with unnatural agility.

  Another man, bare-armed and clad in a sleeveless leather vest and studded greaves, fought with iron gauntlets on his fists. He launched a flurry of rapid punches at a lunging wolf. The beast ducked away, only for another to leap from the side. The man spun gracefully and slammed a punch into its chest, the force of his gauntlet crushing bone as the wolf crumpled.

  The alpha howled, and two more wolves charged the gauntlet fighter. He dodged the first, but the second barreled into his back, knocking him down. Its jaws snapped at his throat as he wrestled with it, arms straining to hold the fangs at bay.

  A flash of silver arced from the side. A sword sliced clean through the wolf’s neck, blood spurting across the man below. Before he could recover, another wolf turned, but an arrow pierced its eye mid-lunge, dropping it atop him in a heap.

  Three wolves remained—until a sphere of fire exploded among them.

  The woman in red robes, swaying on her feet, held her hands outstretched. Flames licked through fur, turning snarls to yelps. Two wolves fell, fire swirling and consuming them. The last wolf limped backward toward its leader, its fur scorched, eyes blazing with desperation.

  Then, without warning, a bolt of lightning split the sky. It struck the final wolf directly, electricity dancing over its body, fur standing on end. With one last twitch, it collapsed, lifeless.

  The large gray wolf stood still. Its mournful howl echoed over the field. It looked over the remains of its pack, lingering briefly on the last to fall, then turned its gaze on the group of humans. Growling low, as if swearing vengeance, it vanished into the tall grass.

  When it became clear the danger had passed, the battered party collapsed in exhaustion.

  Ren approached slowly.

  The knight in chainmail stood first, wary. But as he took in Ren’s youthful appearance, the tension in his stance faded.

  “Thank you for your help,” he said, his voice tired but sincere. “You’re a mage, I take it?” He glanced at the still-smoldering corpse of the lightning-struck wolf. “And quite an accomplished one at that—for someone your age. It’s not often you see someone blessed with lightning magic.”

  Ren hesitated. He still had no real context for what was considered normal in this world.

  “Thank you,” he replied politely. “But you all fought impressively as well. Your sword strike was precise, and your coordination against the wolves was admirable.”

  His gaze shifted to the mage in red, now slumped on the grass.

  “You have a gifted mage among you too,” he added. Then, remembering his manners, he offered a hand. “My name is Ren. It’s very nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” the knight replied with a faint smile. “My name is Cale.”