Pain flared through Noa’s head, then cracked, fizzed, and... sizzled?

System [Total Assimilation] Complete.

Status effect [Base Class Exp Bonus +30%]

What the... hell?

Opening his eyes, Noa groaned at the daylight that assaulted them, exacerbating the pain pounding against his skull with an incessant fervor that told him he’d been drinking. A cheek scratched against grainy soil as he urged himself to move, placing his arms on either side of him. His success went about as far as pushing himself over, staring up at a bright blue sky, and a severe lack of skyscrapers. Not to mention, the ground was flat.

“You’re not in Seattle anymore, Dorothy,” he grumbled to himself. While he should have been more alarmed, he found himself strangely at peace with his surroundings, or perhaps too distracted by the headache. Maybe both.

Alright, over this, he thought, forcing himself up. The view in front of him certainly wasn’t of a noisy Seattle with the cityline cascading over sharp hills, but rather a patchy area of grass with short deciduous trees, grown in deliberate lines. Apples laid across the ground at their bases, and Noa’s immediate imagining was that he’d been whisked away to the other side of the state with its open farmland and abundance of apple orchards.

Yeah... but no.

No way had some loser dragged his drunk self to the other side of the state and dumped him on an apple farm. Scratching that idea, and pushing through the throbbing, Noa got himself up on his feet. Turning about, he spied some workers atop ladders in the distance, and started that direction while he wracked his brain for clues on what happened.

“I got home,” he said aloud, counting the events on his fingers like that would help. “Hung up the keys, took a shower...” Pausing, he looked down at himself. Loose tee, boxers, and socks. At least he wasn’t in Seattle’s typical rainy weather right now—in fact, despite the lack of clothes, he was comfortably warm.

“Home, keys, shower, boxers,” he repeated to himself, and stopped in his tracks altogether. He hadn't been alone in his apartment.

When he emerged from his bedroom after dressing, a pan flew from off the back of the stove, skidding across the wood flooring towards him until Noa wised up and immediately locked himself in his bedroom. He whole-heartedly embraced his cowardice━the brave always died first... in horror films, that was.

Movement and sound behind him had Noa whipping about in just enough time to see the shutters close over the singular window, unmanned. Oh hell no. He jumped to the door, pinching at air where the lock should have been, but instead found that it was missing, a metal stump in its place, as if someone had taken the thing right off with a grinder. He gulped, heart plummeting to the pit of his stomach, and rushed towards the balcony doors—not that it would do him much good, given that he was on the fourth floor. He ripped on the door handle, his sweaty fingers slipping right off. Gripping the thing with both hands, he pulled. It didn't budge, not even a creak from his attempts. Hell’s bells!

Noa yanked again, then jolted when a different door slammed shut. Looking at the source of the sound━his bathroom door━he cursed, and resumed his fruitless task. The only thing that pulled him out of it was when the glass on the balcony door screeched.

He jumped back as sharp and jagged scratches gouged its surface, accompanied with a chill bathing over him like a breeze kissed his skin, if bristling needles could kiss.

I’ve finally come for you, it read.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

Snatching his lamp off the nightstand and ripping the cord out of the wall, Noa banged at the writing with the base of it, the words giving off a ghastly glow from the city lights behind it as the room plunged into darkness. He banged the lamp against it again. Again. And again, until the base of the lamp snapped, the piece bouncing off the unmarred glass, not at all inhibited by the cords still attached to the rest of the lamp as it recoiled directly into his face.

Blinking himself out of the memory, Noa felt at his forehead, fingers running into a sizable bump. It stung to the touch, and he hissed.

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Hesitantly, he looked over his shoulder, almost expecting something to be following him. You’re not going to see it, dimwit, he told himself, then looked back towards the workers. At least they probably could tell him where he was.

He stepped forward, directly onto what felt like a LEGO. Hopping onto one foot with a wince, he looked down at the object, and was dismayed at the sight of the metallic door lock sitting in the grass, like Fate was laughing at him.

He picked it up, cringing at the thing. Whatever brought him here could do the same for other things. Deciding the little metal bit was bad juju, he tossed it over his shoulder and continued towards the workers. Take that, Fate.

“Thief!”

Noa started, whirling towards the woman at his right, who pointed an accusatory finger. Where did she come from! he thought, and bolted away as she charged him like a ripped football player during a fifty yard dash, except in a skirt. He might have been taller than her, but he certainly was not going to contend with a woman that appeared to have three times as much muscle than him. He worked retail, for heaven's sake!

“I wasn’t stealing anything!” he yelled, moving at a full sprint in the opposite direction of the barreling she-monstrosity.

“Lies! I saw you throw that pit over your shoulder!”

That accursed lock! Noa ran harder, trees whizzing by him, and yet, he could still hear the woman behind him, impressively keeping up in that skirt of hers. He was grateful for his cross-country years in high school, driving his tattooed legs forward, but the last few years of folding clothing in a store didn’t do him any favors. He panted hard, his racing heart just as helpful as his cash register experience, but when he saw the edge of the treeline ahead, opening into a collection of dully painted wooden buildings, he pushed. He could probably lose her in a town, even if it remained quite the distance away, enough that he hadn't seen it before.

“Stop him!” the woman hollered, and Noa looked at the figure to his right, this one a man wearing a tan tunic. Huh. The sense of fashion here was a bit outdated. That, or Noa had ended up in some renaissance immersion town, if such a thing existed.

He veered left, weaving around a tree as the bulky man joined the chase, then he heard a thump, followed by a series of grunts. Casting a lookover his shoulder, he grinned at the sight of his pursuers laying in a mass of muscle on the ground, his sharp turn having caused them to collide. At least something was going right for him, probably against Fate’s best efforts.

With the opportunity granted by the two on the ground, Noa darted back in the direction of the town, passing a group of workers that were positioned behind trees, two of them on ladders. He banked on the fact that it would take them a second to orient themselves, and yet, doubt inched in at the back of his mind while his legs ached. But as the treeline grew closer, doubt stretched further away.

He could already feel the freedom of breaking out into town, then losing all his pursuers to the streets, maybe even finding a place to hide and lay low. Holding to that thought desperately, he vanquished the multitude of others that reminded him that he had no idea where he was, and that his attempts to escape might be in vain.

Something hit the ground near his feet with a splat, and Noa briefly found the remains of a rotten apple splayed across the grass as he sped onward. He spared a glance over his shoulder, the woman lumbering after him once again, except she had a handful of rotten apples and was now accompanied by three more harvesters. She threw another, which punched a tree just as Noa passed it, and the bits of the afterspray scratched across his face.

Oh hell.

He did not want to be on the receiving end of one of those apples! He bobbed and weaved around trees, first dodging apples, then weaving past the men and women that'd joined the fray. Yet he continued in his sprint, though less directly, towards the town.

Just a little further!

An apple exploded across his back. The sheer force of the impact sent him hurtling forward, rolling against the ground with his shoulders aching from taking the brunt of the impact. Pushing himself back up, he grimaced at the spot that was hit, stinging almost like the apple was lodged into his back. How did an apple picker get an arm like that? And while running, no less!

The time lost in that moment pounded at Noa’s head, aggravated by the encroaching footfalls of impending capture. His heart nearly bounced out of his chest as a hand grappled his shirt, desperation driving him to shed the layer by sinking to the ground and slipping right out of the tee. Shwoop! He rolled under a second, thinner hand swiping out at him, deftly avoiding another grab.

The treeline was so close! Noa raced to cross it, a reminder to his cross country days. Though he wasn't racing against people, but rather away, he felt the drive to beat them across this proverbial finish line all the same. He pushed hard, heavy beads of sweat dripping from his brow. Each stride was a step closer to escape.

Exhilaration coursed through Noa as he crossed the treeline and raced between buildings. He'd outrunned a she-monstrosity and her gang of apple-picking athletes! He could taste it━freedom, offered by the narrow streets of rustic buildings.

Then an arm flew at his face.