It started as an ache in my leg, nothing I wasn't used to.

But then it got worse.

Slowly, it moved up my leg, spreading to my arms and chest, and before I knew it, my whole body felt like it was on fire.

The dull throb turned into a sharp, searing pain, like molten lava flowing through my veins.

I gasped, but no sound came out, only a strangled breath as the agony intensified. The burning sensation deepened, as if every nerve ending was being seared, each one screaming out in protest. My bones felt like they were being ground to dust and reassembled, each movement sending shockwaves of torment through me. It was as if my very essence was being torn apart and rebuilt, piece by excruciating piece.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, a frantic rhythm that only seemed to amplify the agony. What must've been moments felt like they had been stretched to hours; my salvation only came in the form of passing out.

----------------------------------------

I woke up to a loud thud, gasping for air as my back hit the ground.

I clutched my chest, taking deep breaths to calm myself down. The memories of the pain I experienced were still vivid.

‘What the hell was that?’ My eyes darted around the room.

The walls were made of worn-out, chipped bricks. The ceiling was high, covered in cracks and dust, with faint beams of light filtering through gaps in the stone.

I took a couple of moments to calm myself before finally sitting up.

A few broken wooden crates were scattered in the corners, and a single torch flickered weakly on the wall, casting just enough light to reveal the outlines of strange symbols etched into the walls.

On the far right of the room stood a simple wooden table and chair, both looking as though they hadn't been used in ages.

Similarly, to the left of the table was a mostly empty bookshelf, with only a dozen or so tattered books left haphazardly on its shelves, their spines cracked and worn.

The ground beneath me held a heavy layer of grime, though I could still make out the incredibly faint outline of a large, circular design in the center of the room, a couple of feet in front of me.

I took another deep breath, trying to clear my mind. There was no way this was a dream anymore. The chill in the air, the gritty texture of the stone beneath my fingers, the eerie silence broken only by the distant drip of water—it all felt too real.

‘I need to get out of here.’

Maybe it was because of the adrenaline, but I managed to stand up without much difficulty.

The only issue now was that, while I could walk, I would still be incredibly slow without something to support my leg.

Scanning the ground for a cane that might have magically been teleported here with me, my gaze landed on the broken wooden crates in the corner of the room.

Squinting my eyes, I managed to make out a piece of wood that would act as the perfect makeshift cane. It wasn't much, just a splintered length of wood, but it was sturdy enough.

I waddled over to it, ignoring the growing ache in my leg, and picked it up, testing its weight.

It would do.

‘Alright, now I just need to find a way out—’ My thought was cut off by the sudden appearance of an eerily familiar blue square.

Tutorial Quest:

Summon a Familiar!

Objective: Restore the ancient summoning circle and summon your first companion.

I carefully reached out, pressing my hand against the floating square, only for it to pass through.

The sensation—or rather, the lack of it—sent a shiver down my spine.

Images of the endless void flashed through my mind.

The character creator… Had I actually been transported into some sort of game world? I dismissed the thought for now.

Even if that was the case, I'd like to think there was still a chance of meeting my family again. The idea of never seeing them again was too terrifying to contemplate.

Maybe I had a severe stroke while I was asleep, and I was just dreaming up this world while I was under anesthesia. Yeah, that sounded more plausible.

I scanned the room once more, hoping to find a clue, or some sort of reassurance that this wasn't real.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

But there was nothing.

“Shit!” The exclamation slipped out before I could stop it.

My breath quickened, each inhalation sharp and shallow. There was no door, no window, no form of any exit for that matter. The reality—or unreality—of the situation began to close in on me.

I could feel my heart begin to beat against my chest, a frantic rhythm that echoed the rising panic in my mind. My hands trembled, and a cold sweat broke out on my forehead. I tried to steady my breathing, but each breath felt like I was drawing in ice, cold and sharp, making my lungs burn. My thoughts spiraled, each one darker than the last.

What if I was stuck here forever?

What if this was some twisted version of reality, where I had really been cast into a game world with no way out?

The thought was suffocating, a heavy weight settling in my chest.

I felt the beginnings of a panic attack, my vision narrowing as the room seemed to spin around me. My mind raced, searching for a logical explanation, something, anything I could latch onto that made sense, and my mind chose to latch onto the blue square floating in the middle of the room.

Tutorial Quest:

Summon a Familiar!

Objective: Restore the ancient summoning circle and summon your first companion.

‘Tutorial.’ The word echoed around in my head.

In many games, the tutorial would take place in an isolated place, away from the events of the main game. Maybe this was supposed to be something like that?

Maybe… if I completed the ‘tutorial,’ I'd be let out?

I took a couple more deep breaths, calming myself down. This was the answer I had been looking for.

Tightening my grip around my makeshift cane, I surveyed the room with fresh eyes.

My eyes shifted to the floor beneath my feet, where the large circular design I'd noticed before was drawn out.

‘Yeah, that's definitely a summoning circle if I've ever seen one.’

But how the hell was I meant to restore it? Didn't tutorials usually come with instructions?

I continued scanning the room more methodically, looking for anything that could be used to restore the circle.

‘There,’ I thought, marching over to the faraway table.

The closer I got, the more I realized just how untouched everything seemed, as if this place had been sealed away for centuries.

The table was covered in a fine layer of dust, and on its surface lay a single pristine dagger.

I was no dagger connoisseur, but even I could tell that it was beautifully crafted, the blade gleaming even in the dim light. The hilt was adorned with intricate patterns, giving it an almost ceremonial air. I reached out and picked it up, the cool metal sending a shiver through my hand. It felt significant, almost as if it had a purpose beyond just being a weapon. ‘

I'll be taking this later.’ I placed the dagger back in its place.

Moving my attention away from the table, I shuffled over to the dilapidated bookshelf nearby.

The shelves were lined with books that had clearly seen better days.

Many of them were worn out, their covers barely hanging on, and the text either too faded to read or written in languages I couldn't even recognize.

I pulled a few off the shelf, flipping through pages that crumbled at the touch.

“I think that’s Korean?” I muttered, tossing aside another book filled with indecipherable symbols.

After sifting through several more books that offered no help, I finally stumbled upon a volume that looked promising.

I gently blew the dust off the book's cover, revealing the faded gold lettering more clearly.

Secrets of the Summoner Volume 1: Summoning Rituals and Their Components.

My fingers traced the worn edges as I opened the tome, careful not to further damage the fragile pages. Flipping through the brittle parchment, I expected to find a wealth of knowledge within. Instead, I was met with disappointment: the book was completely empty, save for a few pages filled with intricate diagrams and detailed instructions on restoring a summoning circle.

The rest of the pages were blank, their yellowed surfaces smooth and untouched by ink.

I sat down on the dusty floor, the makeshift cane resting beside me, and carefully examined the filled pages. It was as if the book contained only what I needed at that moment, no more and no less.

The specificity of the information felt oddly deliberate, almost as if the book itself were guiding me.

"The Circle," I muttered, reading aloud the sparse instructions. "The circle is the foundation of any summoning ritual. It acts as a conduit for magical energy, focusing and directing it to create a controlled environment. The chalk must be pure, and the lines precise, ensuring no gaps or breaks. The symbols around the circle are not mere decoration; each one channels specific energies and must be replicated exactly to maintain the circle's integrity. This careful delineation forms a boundary that both contains the summoned entity and protects the summoner."

Turning to the next section, I found a brief description of the anchor. "The Anchor: The anchor is the crucial element that binds the summoned entity to this plane. It acts as a stabilizing force, preventing the creature from becoming uncontrolled or dissipating back to its origin. The use of the summoner's own blood as an anchor is particularly potent because it creates a personal connection, infusing the ritual with the summoner's life force. This bond ensures loyalty and control, as the familiar is tied directly to the summoner's essence. A small amount of blood is sufficient to establish this link, serving as both a medium and a mark of ownership."

"The Chant: The chant serves as the invocation, calling forth the desired entity from its realm. It is not merely a verbal command but a spell that bridges the gap between worlds. The words must be spoken with clear intent and purpose, as they define the nature of the summon and the terms of its binding. This particular chant is concise, designed to summon a familiar: 'From the astral beyond, I summon thee. By this blood, be bound to me. Come forth, my familiar, and serve.' The chant's simplicity belies its power, focusing the summoner's will and the ritual's components into a single, decisive act."

As I finished reading the last page of the sparse instructions, I couldn't help but let out a sigh of frustration.

"Really? That's all they give me?" I muttered, closing the book with a thud.

"Lazy game developers, cutting corners by leaving out the rest of the book. And where the hell am I supposed to find chalk!?”

Still grumbling under my breath, I tossed the book onto the bottom shelf, only to be greeted by the sound of a soft clang as the book struck metal.

‘What the hell?’ I leaned forward, idly scanning the bottom shelf, before something caught my eye—a small, rusty lockbox, almost hidden in the shadows.

Curiosity piqued, I reached down and pulled it out.

The box was surprisingly heavy for its size, the metal cool and rough under my fingers. It looked ancient, the kind of thing you'd expect to find in a treasure chest in a dusty attic. The lock was old and corroded, but thankfully, it didn't seem to be locked. With a bit of effort, I managed to pry it open.

Inside, nestled amongst bits of fabric and some old, crumbling papers, were several sticks of chalk.

I carefully picked one up, examining it in the dim light. A small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.

At least now I had the tools I needed to perform the ritual properly.

The developers may have left out the details in the book, but finding this box felt like a small victory.

Chuckling to myself, I carefully placed the chalk sticks back into the lockbox before standing up using my makeshift cane.

Guess all that was left now was to restore the summoning circle.