In the vast darkness, a voice quivered with mock reverence, "All-powerful and wise God of Mysterious Paths, this humble human stands before your divine greatness. Supreme—"

"State what you want, human," the God interrupted with a note of boredom in his omnipotent tone. "Don't think I can't sniff out flattery and foul play."

The voice tried again, a hint of desperation seeping through. "Magnanimous and—"

"Quick," the God demanded, impatience clear.

"Your most wise divinity, this humble human seeks the power to create anything."

The God eyed the soul, amusement coloring his voice. "An interesting request. You're a greedy one, aren't you, human?"

"Forgive me if I overstepped," the soul stumbled over the words.

"Oh, there's no forgiveness here, child. Let's give you exactly what you asked for." The God's smile was nothing short of wicked.

The void warped, swallowing the soul and spitting it out into a different world.

--- \\ ---

Consciousness crept back to Luke as he squinted against the harsh morning light. His gaze darted from an archaic stone well to thatched roofs, landing on a woman in medieval garb bustling with a covered basket. "What in the nine hells?" he muttered, trying to piece together why he was in what looked like a medieval movie set instead of his bedroom.

Then, the unthinkable happened. A torrent of foul-smelling slop drenched him from above.

"Gods, how could you do such a vile thing?" he cried out, glaring at the woman with the bucket. He jumped up, frantically trying to rid himself of the noxious goo.

"You get what you deserve, loitering under honest folks' homes, you beggar!" the woman scolded before vanishing inside.

"This isn't happening! Wake up, Luke, wake up!" He clenched his eyes shut, willing the stench away, praying it was all just a terrible dream.

And then he remembered. Through a series of unexpected and bizarre events, Luke had been granted a boon by a pagan god. The last memory in his mind was the deity's malevolent grin as it promised to fulfill his wish.

"No! This can't be real," Luke exclaimed, frantically seeking a way to cleanse the filth enveloping him.

He visited the tales of transmigration, isekai, and portal fantasies in his mind. Encountering a real God made the impossible seem eerily plausible.

Spotting a nearby pond, he grimaced at its murky waters. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't dream of touching such filth, but desperation drove him. Muttering disbelievingly, he trudged towards it.

Passersby gave him wide berths, confirming his odor was as repulsive to them as it was to him. Reaching the pond, he abandoned all pretense of dignity and plunged in.

The decision proved foolish as the shallow water barely reached half a meter. "Ouch!" he yelped, pain shooting through his head as it collided with the pond's bottom. His outcry caused him to gulp down some of the vile water, choking and sputtering.

The foul taste was the last straw. He did the unthinkable, retching over the pond's edge, feeling utterly defeated.

As he struggled to grasp his surreal predicament, a group of armed men approached, flanked by furious villagers.

"This is the beggar causing trouble," a toothless elder accused, pointing at Luke.

"Wait, sirs, I am no beggar. Allow me to explain this unfortunate misunderstanding..." Luke's plea was cut short as the men seized him, dragging him out of the pond.

Luke's woes deepened as he realized he still reeked. The guards grimaced as they held him, while onlookers stepped back, pinching their noses and muttering disgusted comments. "Oh God, I'm disgusting," Luke muttered, his mood sinking.

He wanted to revoke his wish and return. The romanticized medieval settings in novels were far from reality. Lacking hygiene, education, and comfort, who would choose such a life? Magic in a steampunk or space opera setting seemed so much more appealing than this dismal medieval life.

Absorbed in his thoughts, Luke was manhandled into a grim stone tower resembling a prison. He tried to plead his innocence, but the guards ignored him. At least they spoke English, or some magical translation was at work.

The guards, with no regard for dignity, shoved him against a wall. They stripped him and scrubbed him down with mop-like tools, a humiliating but oddly relieving experience.

"Put these on!" They tossed him some rags and used shoes once they finished, leaving him feeling battered but clean.

"Sirs, please, I need to explain—" Luke began, approaching the guards, only to be halted by their menacing glares.

Dressing hastily, Luke nervously sniffed himself, relieved the stench was gone.

Then a tall, black-haired man in a finer uniform entered, followed by a scruffy, scholarly youth with a book and pen. The man sized Luke up with a stoic gaze.

"Name and previous occupation?" he demanded.

Realizing that this was a critical moment to establish his own plot in this unfamiliar realm, Luke straightened up and replied with feigned confidence, "Luke Adrian, at your service, sir." He paused, crafting a plausible backstory. "Former Artificer, sir." Noticing the guards' skepticism, he hastily amended, "Apprentice Artificer, actually."

"And where did you serve this apprenticeship?" the stern man pressed.

Unfazed, Luke responded, "Bag End, sir." The name, plucked from a well-known fantasy tale, was the first to spring to mind.

The man's expression remained unreadable, but the guards exchanged puzzled glances, evidently unsure if they recognized the place.

"Why were you causing a disturbance and bathing in the central square's water reservoir?" the man questioned after a brief pause.

"Forgive my undignified behavior, sir. I was bewildered and accosted by a lady who, rather unkindly, dumped some... unsavory items on me," Luke explained, battling to keep his revulsion in check.

"So that's the source of the odor?" the man inquired, his stern facade nearly slipping.

"Yes, sir. I assure you, I was quite presentable before that unfortunate incident," Luke asserted.

"Given that no harm was done to property or persons, we'll let it slide. This time only," the man decided, then addressing the guards, "If Mr. Adrian is found in misconduct again, leniency will not be an option."

"Thank you, sir," Luke bowed, though the man had already turned to leave.

Escorted from the tower by the guards, who seemed eager to be rid of him, Luke took the opportunity to scrutinize his surroundings, extracting any useful information about this world. The guards' well-crafted weapons indicated advanced metalworking skills. The variety in clothing styles and materials suggested a diverse textile industry, while the woodwork and construction appeared standard.

Crossing the tower's threshold, Luke's attention was drawn to a woman in a blue robe, clutching a staff. She was part of a quartet: a burly man with a hefty sword, a skinny figure in a hoody without visible weapons, and another woman with a bow on her back.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Adventurers,” he deduced, his gaze lingering on the mage's staff. Magic existed in this world. Accepting his fate here, Luke found solace in the possibility of magic. Maybe life here wouldn't be so dull.

He trailed the group at a safe distance, keen to observe their dynamics and destinations. Aligning with such folk seemed inevitable.

The nature of the boon from the god remained a mystery to him. Was it a cheat, a special power? He speculated it would involve magic. Understanding how mages used magic was crucial. Or could his boon be something beyond spellcasting?

His wish had been to create anything, but did the god truly grant that? Luke decided to temper his expectations. The group entered a tavern, and he casually followed, only to freeze as a knife pressed against his neck.

"Hi there," he stammered, attempting and failing to sound nonchalant. The knife's edge bit into his skin as a cold, detached voice demanded, "Why were you following us?"

The knife-wielder had to be from the adventurer party. But how...?

"Answer," the voice insisted, pressing harder.

"Sorry, sorry," Luke hurriedly explained, "I was just curious about adventurers' work."

Luke couldn't fabricate a lie now; his only option was to offer a sheepish apology. His prospects of making a good first impression were rapidly diminishing.

"Just curious?" the voice probed again. Luke nodded gingerly, careful not to worsen the situation, and murmured an affirmative.

"Alright. Next time, just approach us directly. Rule one: don't sneak up on adventurers," the man advised, finally releasing Luke.

"Sorry, I was about to approach you at the tavern," Luke said, hoping to salvage some dignity.

"Hmm?" The man, who Luke now recognized as the hooded figure from the group, scrutinized him. "You can't get in there without an adventurer's badge or company. That's the guild, mate. Adventurers only, unless you're meeting one."

Luke's face flushed with realization and embarrassment. His chance to impress this group had slipped away. Maybe it was best to wait for another team.

Observing Luke's dejected expression, the man seemed to contemplate something. "You're an odd one... Come on, let's go inside," he said, heading towards the guild.

"But you said I couldn't get in—" Luke began.

"You're with me," Dilan interrupted, sounding a bit annoyed. Luke, chastened, thanked him and hurried to catch up.

"I'm Dilan," the man introduced himself.

"Luke," he replied.

The guild's interior resembled a typical tavern: a long counter staffed by a bored, freckle-faced young woman with short hair, several tables, and a large doorway leading to another room. Then, Luke spotted the job board near the counter, confirming this was indeed a guild.

"Catch a beggar, Di?" the bow-wielding woman teased.

Luke tried not to take offense, remembering his current disheveled state.

"Yeah, brought him along. He's curious about adventurers," Dilan said, joining his teammates at a table.

"Unusual beggar, indeed," the woman commented, sipping from her mug.

"That's why I brought him in," Dilan chimed in.

"I'm not a beggar," Luke asserted, unable to let the jibe slide.

"Right, and your choice of attire and lack of coins is because of...?" the woman quipped, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Luke bit back a retort. "Unfortunate circumstances," he replied, not questioning how they knew he was penniless.

"Unfortunate circumstances," she echoed with a laugh, finding amusement in his predicament.

"So," she began, glancing at Dilan, who supplied, "Luke." She nodded, "What do you want to know about our line of work?"

"Just the basics," Luke said bluntly.

"Not much beyond common knowledge. It's dangerous, potentially lucrative if you're brave and lucky. Always work in a team, and don't get greedy. That's pretty much it," she summarized.

"How does one join? Pick a job from the board? Are you paid just for the task, or can you sell any loot?" Luke fired off his questions. She leaned back, smiling, and looked towards the burly man.

Meanwhile, Luke glanced at the mage, who had been silent, engrossed in a scroll, barely acknowledging him.

With a slightly exasperated air, as if he were always tasked with explanations, the burly man began, "You pay ten silver drakes for registration, then you get a rankless badge. You can later upgrade to copper, bronze, silver, gold, or platinum, based on completing certain jobs. Job ranks match badge ranks. You're paid for the job, and you can sell unlisted loot."

Luke, cautious not to reveal his ignorance about the currency, hid his dismay at needing to pay for registration. The last thing he wanted was to beg for pity, especially after being so thoroughly humiliated already in this world.

"You didn't think joining would be free, did you?" the bow-wielding woman teased.

Luke responded with a sheepish smile.

"See, a beggar after all," she gloated.

"Can you help me?" Luke asked, his voice marked with reluctance.

"And now he begs, true to form," she chuckled.

"Sorry, man," the burly man apologized. "We're just a bronze team scraping by, saving for better gear."

Taken aback, he complained in his mind, "If they're upgrading, they could spare some help."

"You have a smell," the mage, previously engrossed in her scroll, interjected.

Luke's face flushed, recalling the earlier stench. He thought he'd cleansed it away, but apparently not.

"I had an... unfortunate incident earlier. I thought it was gone, but..." Luke stammered, embarrassment and annoyance in his voice.

"No, it smells like magic," the mage corrected, sniffing curiously at him. Luke noticed the table's attention now fixed on him, their expressions ranging from surprise to confusion.

"I can't identify it, but it's unlike anything I've smelled," the mage mused.

"Is it enchantment or... dark magic?" the bow-wielder asked, her tone dropping ominously.

"No. I'm not sure what it is, but it’s not any of those," the mage admitted.

Feeling awkward under their scrutiny, Luke also felt a thrill – he had magic. Though, the mage's uncertainty about its nature was disconcerting. Being a hidden master seemed preferable to the limelight sought by typical novel protagonists.

"What's your magic?" the mage asked, giving up on her olfactory investigation.

"It's complicated," Luke replied, uneasy about revealing or fabricating the truth.

"We respect your privacy," the sturdy man assured quickly. "We're just looking for a battle mage. Rachel's a water healer, which is great for survival, but a magic hitter could open up better job opportunities for us."

Luke cast a surreptitious glance at Rachel, mulling over her abilities. The conversation was a goldmine of information about magic. There were battle mages, likely utility mages too, healers of various elements, and mentions of dark magic and enchantments.

Here was his chance. They needed a mage, and though he wasn't certain about being a battle mage, 'creating anything' might just work. He decided to keep the specifics to himself.

"I... I'm still figuring out my magic," Luke said, carefully vague. "I thought adventuring might help me understand and control it better."

He wasn't deceiving them, just seeking an opportunity. He'd make it up to them somehow.

"Oh, an irregular mage then," the bow woman guessed. Luke responded with a noncommittal smile, deducing that there were mages who strained from conventional categories.

"Training magic can be costly and risky in town," the burly man added.

A silent exchange of looks passed among the team. It was clear they were considering inviting him to join.

"I'm in," the bow woman declared. "We can spare ten silver drakes." The others nodded. Rachel's gaze lingered on Luke, a mix of curiosity and something else.

"Bart," the burly man introduced himself, handing Luke ten silver coins bearing a winged wizard. "Register at the counter, and we'll pick a job for tomorrow."

"Simone," the bow woman added.

"I'm honored," Luke replied with an exaggerated bow, drawing a chuckle from Simone.

At the counter, he announced his intention to register. The clerk eyed his attire skeptically, but the sight of the silver drakes on the counter prompted compliance. She returned swiftly with a form, a book, a badge, and a peculiar circular device resembling a compass.

"Fill this out," she instructed, sliding the form across the counter. "And drop your blood here," she continued, pointing to the compass-like tool. Luke picked up the pen, scanning the form. The language was familiar. He filled in his name, age, origin (Bag End), and class (irregular mage). Her eyebrows arched in surprise as she reviewed his answers.

Luke hesitated at the blood-dropping part, clueless about the mechanism. Noticing his confusion, she calmly directed him to prick his finger on the center pin. He cautiously did so, and the pin pricked his finger, collecting a drop of blood without any pressure. Startled, Luke jerked back, but the woman continued unfazed.

She placed the tool over the badge, which shimmered, turning a semi-transparent grey, presumably indicating 'rankless'. She then recorded his name and badge number in the book, handed him the badge, and said, "Welcome to the Guild."

"Thank you," Luke replied, returning to the table.

Bart then took him to examine the job board. The board, half the wall in size, displayed over 20 jobs. Bart zeroed in on the copper rank ones at the bottom, explaining that Luke's rankless status meant they'd start with these jobs.

Luke felt a little guilty, not wanting to slow the team's progress towards silver rank. Bart, noticing his discomfort, reassured him he'd quickly advance to copper rank.

There were five copper rank jobs, but Bart chose the one Luke dreaded: slimes. It confirmed the world's traditional fantasy setting. Unsure if these slimes were like those from stories and games, Luke couldn't help but feel apprehensive.

The job involved exterminating slimes, rewarding one copper snake for every two shards collected. Bart tore off the job post, offering it to Luke to peruse. As they rejoined the team, they briefed him on the task.

Slimes, as Luke suspected, were low rank monsters, yielding mana shards instead of crystals. Though not inherently dangerous, their corrosive nature could cause burns, and in large numbers, they could be even lethal. The job post included a basic map of the slimes' habitat, but the primary goal was collecting shards.

They agreed to rendezvous at the gates at dawn. The team had lodgings at the Guild, costing two silver drakes per room. They didn't extend an invitation to Luke, and he didn't press the issue, sensing mutual discomfort regarding his living situation.

Luke didn't want to impose further on the team. Forming a long-term, beneficial partnership was his aim. However, facing a night outdoors in an unfamiliar town was scary.

With daylight to spare, Luke scouted the town for a shelter. The medieval settlement was as expected: modest houses, sparse stores, interspersed with occasional displays of magic.

As dusk approached, he stumbled upon an empty warehouse, seemingly a stable for merchants. Unlocked and mostly vacant, it seemed a suitable refuge. He just hoped it wasn't a house for diseases or pests left by its animal occupants.

Soon, darkness fully enveloped the town. Luke settled into the warehouse, vigilant for any unexpected company or unwelcome disruptions. His stomach grumbled in protest, but he shrugged off the hunger pangs. Surviving one night without food seemed a small price to pay for the promise of tomorrow.

Reflecting on his past life, he couldn't help but sigh at the sudden change. Just days ago, he was comfortable in his apartment, now he was homeless and defenseless. But that last problem would soon be resolved, with the other troubles hopefully following.