Merlin stood alone. Again.
Panic returned immediately, coiled and tight in his chest. The sheer openness above, that vast blank ceiling, made his stomach clench. Still, something quiet inside held the fear back. This was not his own doing, more like the presence of a hand on his shoulder, unseen but steady.
He gave his head a brisk shake, wiped his palm across his face, and lowered his gaze toward the jungle. The treeline stood thick and unwelcoming, a dense mass of tangled green that seemed to eat the light rather than filter it.
No deliberation was needed. The instinct was immediate: find shelter. It was basic survival logic. Anyone who had touched a survival game knew: before you explore, before you fight, before you think, you find somewhere to sleep. A place with cover. Somewhere to avoid becoming dinner.
He turned his back to the trees and made for the cliffside, hoping he might spot an alcove, a fold in the rock, a bit of shadow to crawl into. Maybe even a cave, if luck liked him today.
He didn’t get far. The edge came quick, and when he looked down, his stomach dropped. The cliff fell away in a vertical plunge. He couldn’t see the bottom. The drop was massive, easily twice the Eiffel Tower’s height, maybe more. He looked left, then right.
“Shit.”
The wall of stone stretched on without a break. No path down. No ridgeline to test. Nothing but a hard no from every angle. He wasn’t getting off this plateau. The forest behind him wasn’t optional. It was all he had.
He let out a long breath and dropped onto a flat rock, elbows on his knees, gaze drifting toward the sea.
“Alright... let’s try this damn power.”
He activated [Analyse], and blue-tinted text blinked softly into view across his retina.
[Tree]
[Grass]
[Rock]
He frowned.
"That's it?"
He had expected more. Something useful. A breakdown of stats. Materials. Loot drops. Instead, he focused again—one item at a time this time—and let the skill dig deeper.
[Analyse: Tree]
Plant. Absorbs CO?. Releases oxygen. Can be climbed. Watch for snakes.
[Analyse: Grass]
Plant. Can be trimmed. Pleasant under bare feet, except in winter.
[Analyse: Rock]
Mineral. Can be thrown. Aim carefully. Accidents happen.
He stared at the results for a moment, then let out a quiet laugh that had no humor in it.
“Seriously? This is my big power? A fun-fact generator?”
Rubbing his temples, he tried to push back the headache threatening to bloom.
“Great. An analysis skill that doesn’t analyze squat.”
He’d hoped for rare item tags, durability ratings, even magic indicators. But now that he thought about it, this outcome made perfect sense. [Analyse] wasn’t pulling info from the world. It was pulling it from him. If he didn’t know something, the skill didn’t either.
He’d seen protagonists in other stories, the kind who spouted paragraphs on metallurgy after one glance at a blade. He wasn’t that guy. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure he could recognize maple on sight. Actually, no. He couldn’t.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
He reopened his status sheet. There, on the Profile line, something had shifted. Two strings of text overlapped. One said #ERROR in bold. The other—faint, almost erased—hovered just behind.
He squinted.
“Hera...? Hero?”
[Profile]: Hero / #ERROR
There it was. But the word meant nothing.
He remembered Gara had mentioned it. Hero. Was there a connection?
He immediately pictured those types: wielding glowing greatswords, hurling fireballs with one hand while saving a village with the other. Always talking about justice or destiny, usually kind of dumb, but full of good intentions.
Definitely not his vibe. With his background, he was more “shady mercenary.” On a good day.
He sighed again, longer this time. Everything in this place was a riddle.
His hand drifted to his forehead, fingers brushing the base of his horns. They felt lighter than before. Smaller? He shook the thought off.
Probably his imagination.
He dropped his hand and glanced once more at the spot where Gara had vanished. The only directive given was: meet him in Karkin—whatever that meant. With the vague promise of a way home, as a bonus.
He filled his lungs, held the breath for a second, then let it go.
Not yet. Turning, he scanned behind him. A game reflex. Sometimes, if you doubled back at the very start of a level, you’d find a secret chest. Something left behind by a bored developer. A little gift for the curious. It was silly. But right now, silly felt solid.
So he walked. The jungle closed around him. The clearing behind disappeared in the dim light under the canopy. The air changed, heavier and wetter, rich with the scent of rot and blossoms. Moss. Humid bark. Sweetness hidden in decay.
The ground beneath his boots gave slightly. Layers of leaves, crisscrossed roots, and moisture-warped earth. Vines draped from branches, brushing his shoulders as he passed.
He didn’t like hiking. Never had. Too many insects. Too much mess. But something about this place felt... different. Not friendly, but not malicious. More like an old ruin that had forgotten to care.
His feet kept moving. Without realizing, he began counting his steps.
At one hundred, he stopped.
There was movement ahead.
Through the shadows cast by the branches, a massive silhouette emerged.
He stepped forward, slowly.
What came into view was enormous.
It looked human for a second. But no, it wasn’t. A snake-man. A towering creature, easily three meters tall. Its upper half wore cracked black armor, heavy and stained. A thick tail dragged behind, weaving through the brush. Its eyes, narrow and burning red, locked onto him immediately.
"Out," the thing hissed. "Karkin... other way."
The words sat in the air like a warning.
And then something inside Merlin cracked.
He’d rolled with it all so far. New world, strange powers, divine beings. Shuffled around like a game piece. But this, this was his limit. He looked the creature in the eye.
“And if I don’t?”
A cruel smile twisted across the serpent’s face. One talon lifted. And the ground split open. A clean line of force sliced through the jungle, felling trees and tearing apart soil like paper. The sound of breaking trunks echoed around them, followed by the heavy thump of branches collapsing into dust.
“If walk,” it said, voice curling with amusement, “I eat you. My right.”
Merlin took a step back. Dust burned his throat.
“Alright, alright. I’ll turn back. But could you at least tell me where to find somewhere safe around here? A shelter, a cave, anything?”
Silence.
His jaw clenched. But he turned.
Back in the clearing, he paused. He stood there, eyes fixed on the horizon, where the cliffs cut sharply above the ocean. Behind him, he could still feel that red gaze.
He inhaled deeply to steady the vertigo that had haunted him since the encounter.
He needed an anchor. A foothold. Anything to bring a little order to this madness. It sounded stupid, but it was all he had: pretend this was just an isekai.
At the start of every adventure, there was usually a key encounter. A princess to save, or a rich merchant. Something to unlock the powers, the loot, the path forward.
“Keep your eyes peeled. Never know,” he muttered, a joyless smile on his lips.
He looked up one last time at the sky—vast, empty, crushing. Just looking at it made him nauseous.
Then he pushed forward.
As soon as he crossed the treeline, the jungle closed in around him. Heavy. Thick. The path barely visible, like it hadn’t been used in ages. He made sure to walk dead center.
More rustlings. Quick movements in the brush, just out of sight. Too blurry to identify.
Merlin froze. Held his breath. Then he heard them. Low growls. Deep and rough. Raspy snarls from deep within the jungle.
And in those sounds, a clear message: he wasn’t welcome.
He swallowed, strained to hear, but saw nothing. Just invisible presences circling, never revealing themselves. Even the air felt charged with a static tension, ready to snap.
So he forced himself forward. Don’t stop. Keep moving.
Fear clawed at him, but he pushed it down. Hesitant prey doesn’t last. Time blurred. Every step got heavier. Exhaustion crept in, but he stayed sharp, senses wired, mind taut like a bowstring. Every sound, every shadow, made his heart lurch. Adrenaline carried him more than willpower.
Then, without warning, something appeared on the path.
An humanoid at a glance, but only in the most basic sense. Its build was short and wide, body corded with muscle beneath a glistening layer of slick skin. Its head bulged, round and glossy, with two featureless black eyes staring without blinking.
It didn’t move. Just watched him.
“What the hell…”
Merlin triggered [Analyse].
[Analyse: Humanoid with Toad Head]
- #ERROR
- #ERROR
- Note: “What the hell…”
His breath escaped as a whisper.
“Great…”
The moment shattered. The thing rushed him, its speed horrifying for something that size.
Merlin’s mind blanked. His body moved on its own. Before he even understood, he was behind it. Heat surged beneath his skin, lighting up his nerves. He flinched, teeth clenched tight.
His fist rose. He was going to strike. He wanted to. But he stopped. His arm trembled.
The creature turned slowly, eyes full of confusion. In a rush of instinct, Merlin shoved it with all his might. The toad-man toppled backward, landing with a heavy thud.
Merlin didn’t wait. He spun and vanished into the trees.
He ran, without looking back.