If you said isekai, you meant: boost your stats, hoard skills, test your limits. Merlin had to get stronger. Not just to survive, but to make things afraid. Monsters, enemies, anything that wanted him dead.

  But for that, he needed a fight he could actually win. Something manageable, just to start without gambling his life on the opening round.

  He opened [Inventory], hesitated, then pulled out the dull twin daggers and the leather belt. The blades were worn down, but they were all he had. He strapped them on tight at his hip, ready to draw the second trouble showed its face.

  He moved out, cautious. Each step deliberate. Tense, he angled toward the path. If it came to a fight, better to have some visibility. A few minutes in, movement caught his eye between the trees. He stopped cold, breath thinning.

  A massive shape stepped from the shadows. It was a monster, huge and muscled, almost unreal. It looked like a Goliath, the nearly unkillable boss from that old game he had replayed recently. Same hulking build, but this one was covered in fur, black and matted, thick as a carpet, streaked with dried mud and old scars.

  Its face was somewhere between bear and lion, but off, proportions skewed. Each paw ended in claws the length of short swords, glinting, murder-sharp. And its eyes, pale slits, unmoving, searched the gloom with unnerving precision. It wasn’t looking. It was scanning. Hunting.

  Nope.

  Merlin backed off, crouched, slipped behind a bush, and took the long way around. Quiet exit.

  Next.

  Fifteen minutes later, a black mist unrolled between the trees. Floating in its center: a dog-shaped specter, levitating just off the ground like it had been born from the fog itself. Its eyes glowed sickly white. Just being near it smelled like death.

  Neeext.

  He eased away, speeding up slightly, careful not to draw attention.

  Time passed.

  The trail widened as the jungle thinned, and sunlight began to pour through the canopy. Heat settled over him, heavy and unrelenting. Dust clung to his boots. Each step felt heavier than the one before.

  Then the last trees gave way, and the horizon opened.

  There he was. Gara. Still seated atop his mountain. Motionless, leaned back against the impossible slope, one arm resting on a bent knee, chin cradled in his palm. From this far, his face was unreadable, but Merlin still felt the weight of his gaze.

  "Hey, Gara..."

  He squinted up, brow creased.

  "Tell me you didn’t mistake that mountain for an outhouse."

  Silence.

  "You know sitting too long’s the best way to earn yourself hemorrhoids, right? Your mom never warned you?"

  He sighed and kept walking. Hunger was already creeping back in. From his [Inventory], he pulled a small pink fruit, shaped like a tiny banana. He bit into it. The effect hit instantly, wiping the hunger away like it had never existed. Perfect. One more magic fruit down, and a few still in reserve.

  He set off again as the sun climbed higher, drawing long shadows across the path. But still, there was nothing. No real opponent to speak of. Only abominations.

  First, a black ostrich with coal-dark feathers and eyes burning with fire. Its scream ignited actual flames, literally. The ground around it was scorched, still smoldering.

  Next, a gray wraith. It hung almost motionless in the dark, hovering in place, then blinked out of existence, leaving only a drifting haze of ash.

  Then, a storm made flesh. A furious giant crackling with electricity, shattering boulders with its bare hands. Each impact echoed like thunder. Behind it, nothing but pulverized ruins.

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  These weren’t monsters. They were catastrophes. And every one of them seemed determined to deliver the same message: you don’t belong here.

  But then Merlin noticed something. None of them came near the path. They lingered just beyond its edge, held back, like an unseen force was barring their way.

  Merlin stopped, standing right in the middle of the trail. Fists clenched. Jaw locked. He wanted a fight. Needed it. But not against walking nightmares.

  He glanced upward. Bad idea. The sky pressed down on him like a weight, and he staggered, knees buckling under the sudden wave of vertigo.

  Back into the jungle? No. Too dangerous.

  So he kept walking. For a long time. The trees grew sparse, the trail widened. He remembered the savannah he had seen from the top of a tree yesterday. A few more kilometers and he would be free of it.

  Then a shape blocked the road.

  At first it was just a blur beyond the leaves.

  A wavering form, barely visible in the morning haze.

  It stepped forward, slowly, into the light.

  A man. Or something that had once been one. A walking corpse in rusted armor, pitted and broken by age and war. A torn cape fluttered behind him, ragged and wind-whipped. In one hand, an enormous greatsword dragging across the dirt with a grinding shriek.

  Beneath a cracked helmet, a decaying face. Gray skin stretched over dry bone, a crooked jaw with only a few teeth left. The empty sockets looked lifeless, but Merlin felt the killing intent roll off it like heat.

  The dead knight lunged. Fast. A burst of dust erupted where it had stood.

  Merlin didn’t think. His body simply moved. He twisted aside, dodging the blade by a hair. His breath shifted. His stance adjusted. He moved with a precision that didn’t feel like his.

  But this time, something snapped. He had been carrying it all since morning: the monsters, the fear, the helplessness. It surged up at once and tore free. Rage followed, sudden and searing.

  The zombie struck again. Merlin caught the blade with a quick deflection from his dagger. Too easy. A crooked grin tugged at his face.

  "That all you’ve got?"

  He knew the undead wouldn’t understand. Might not even hear him. Didn’t matter. He dodged another blow, stepped back. His voice carried a twisted edge of excitement.

  "You're too slow."

  He circled the creature, untouchable. Every strike was predicted, countered, evaded. Merlin was in complete control. But he didn’t attack. Not really. Every time he could have finished it, he held back. Every gap, every opening, simply left untouched.

  And he paid for it.

  The greatsword whooshed past his head, close enough to part the air. He stumbled. Reflex took over. One heartbeat later, he was at the zombie’s flank, dagger sliding deep into its throat. No blood. No scream. Not even a twitch. Just that slick, nauseating resistance.

  His stomach turned. He yanked the blade free. The corpse dropped with a dull thud.

  Then, without warning, light flared. A glowing message blinked into view before his eyes.

  [Zombie Knight defeated]

  Would you like to loot the corpse?

  → [Yes]  [No]

  Merlin blinked, disoriented. The nausea vanished instantly.

  "Wait… what?"

  A shiver of pleasure rippled through him as he stared at the display. So [Analyse] had a loot function?

  "That’s so… cool!"

  Without thinking, he mentally selected "yes."

  Another message appeared immediately.

  [Loot acquired]

  + Light-blue crystal ×1

  + Rusted greatsword ×1

  + Rusted armor ×1

  Once the gear dissolved, the knight’s remains evaporated into mist and ash.

  Merlin didn’t even watch it fade. He opened [Inventory] and summoned the recovered items. The sword first. Then the armor. Both hit the ground with a sickening, wet-sounding thud, like they hadn’t fully dried out. The smell followed in a wave, thick and rancid, ancient. Rust tangled with rot. Black sludge seeped from the joints, slow and syrupy. The sword stuck to his fingers just from touching it.

  No way he was ever using that. Not even in a nightmare.

  He frowned and checked the description of the third item.

  [Light-blue crystal]: #ERROR.

  Of course. Had to be one glitchy thing to ruin the mood.

  He was about to close the screen when a new detail appeared. A line he’d never seen before.

  [Victims]: 1

  His gut tightened. He could still feel the dagger in his hand, the exact moment it cut through the knight’s cold throat. But… had he really killed someone? No. That hadn’t been human. Just a shell, pushed into motion by whatever force had reanimated it.

  Merlin let out a slow breath, shook his head, and forced himself to move on.

  His eyes drifted toward the horizon. The jungle stopped dead, as though it had been carved away by a blade. Beyond that, the land opened into a pale yellow plain, dry and quiet. The ground was cracked in places, and tall clumps of sunburnt grass swayed gently in the warm wind.

  Merlin stood there for a while, unmoving. He had won, and that felt good. But he had let himself get cocky, and it had nearly gotten him killed. Next time, he needed to be sharper, more aware. He couldn’t afford to drift. He had to think more clearly, react faster, and be stronger.

  Hm…?

  Stronger?

  He looked down and pulled up his status window.

  His eyes scanned it quickly. A single line, maybe. A quiet notification. He flicked through the menus one by one, heart still thudding. Slowed down. Scrolled back. Refreshed the display.

  Nothing.

  He did it again, slower this time.

  Still nothing.

  A hollow ache spread in his chest. The tension was gone now, but in its place, only emptiness. No XP. No boost. Not even a "mission complete."

  "Seriously?"

  Merlin let himself drop flat on his back, arms outstretched, gaze lost in the endless blue overhead. His body felt drained. His mood, even more so. He lay there for a few seconds, staring into nothing, then exhaled and muttered, tired:

  "Pff... Damn isekai."