Craft’s astral body zipped through a tunnel made of disjoint panels of light. The panels seemed close enough to touch, but in reality, they were just so large that flying closer or farther wouldn’t change their size at all.
He reached out. Of course he couldn’t touch it. He closed his eyes, not knowing what to make of a world supposedly made for people like him. He couldn’t even begin to guess what it would look like. He’d asked Amacus and Enty, of course, but they just kept on saying, “Don’t stress about it,” “It’ll be fine,” “Don’t worry, they’re all nice” — as if a naturally meticulous ex-agent wouldn’t feel stressed about going into unexplored territory!
Well, anyway with Enty being who she was, he couldn’t imagine it to be anywhere near hostile.
But if there was one thing he was afraid of, it’s if the locals all took after their goddess. He wasn’t sure if he could survive everyone being as open as her, as insistent to deeply associate, and as willing to self-sacrifice in a way that would hurt him to watch. He’d much prefer a superficial relationship with the first normal human being he could find, at least until he felt more confident in his theory of what normalcy was supposed to be like: boring and mundane.
Without normalcy, he feared he’d fall back into the habits of his old life, but even if he needed it, the idea of the “boring and mundane” irked him somehow. Was he a good fit for it? Could he accomplish it? Such doubts clouded his mind.
Caught between that fear and disliking the very thing which would let him get away from it, that just went to show how much he didn’t know. In the end, he would have to get someone to cough up how it all actually worked.
Just as he was mentally interviewing that hypothetical person, flashes of blue squares popped in and out of his vision. He reached out to touch them, but then he also saw the same blue squares cladding his hands and arms, each one filled with scribbles of data he couldn’t decipher.
A larger one popped up right in his face, console text loading in one after the other. It was just like in a VR game.
[Found Identity: CRAFT BOWEN]
[Found Past Achievements: “Maze Wanderer”, “Flexible Mind”, “Dark Empath”, “God-Killer”]
[Hide Achievements? (Y/N)]
Two buttons appeared. Enthusia had mentioned something about this before he’d left the cottage. He didn’t want to bring his past into this, so he chose yes.
To have a choice at all—yet another thing to be grateful for.
[You may hide/unhide your Achievements at any time.]
[Blessing Found: “Bow Storage Shed”]
Huh, so it ended up with me, after all. It didn’t come with instructions, though.
[Hobby Found: “Bowmaking”]
Why did it feel the need to mention that?…
[Assessment Summary: Lethal; not looking for a fight; no gardening or farming skills; no ambition of defiance.]
[System Assignment: midRealm (92% match)]
[Routing New Summons: midRealm: World’s Origin]
[🎉 Enjoy your stay! -E]
The squares disappeared just as quickly, and everything went dark.
***
When he next opened his eyes, his sight was blurred. He was lying on hard ground, glassy by the touch of his fingers. When he lifted his head, he made out a bright circular window near the ceiling of the otherwise dark room, but with his blurred sight, he couldn’t make out anything else.
His heart was beating slow enough that he should be dead, and his throat was a bit dry, making him cough a few times, but otherwise, he was fine.
He only had to wait a short while before his eyes began to adjust. He was lying in the middle of a polished obsidian platform, he realized, and by instinct, he studied the room, mapping it in his mind. The circular window far above him really was the only source of light; the gray walls didn’t make it feel any brighter. The only path of escape was a pair of opened double doors at the end of a path leading down the edge of the platform.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
A blob in his vision shifted. He froze. What was that? His eyes hadn’t fully adjusted, and so he blinked as fast as he could, getting his eyes to tear up — wetting his eyes in a bid to bring his vision back to normal as soon as he could.
The blurriness faded. The blob turned into an outline, then into a trembling character. There, not far from the edge of the platform, was a shocked young woman holding a broom. She wore a black, wide-brimmed hat; the rest of her outfit made her out to be a trick-or-treatin’ witch.
Craft opened his mouth. “H-”
She turned tail and ran before he could even get to the vowel. It stung somewhat. There goes the welcoming committee, he thought. It reminded him of that one time he and a pilot crashed in the middle of Yellowstone Park. There had been a kid flying a kite. She’d run away the moment she saw him, but to be fair, anyone would run away from a limping guy covered in blood. Nobody really took chances with zombies anymore.
Anyway, he ought to go after the runaway committee. He sat up, pushing himself off the ground with an arm. He felt the low blood pressure kick in, but it wasn’t so bad. A quick pat-down later, it was nice that he wasn’t bleeding, but he found it curious that he was in brown trousers and a loose white buttoned shirt. Everything was a size larger, but at least it came with a belt.
For being standard-issue summoning clothes, though, why were shoes optional? He’d rather not run after the trick-or-treat-er barefoot.
No, wait. He turned over. As expected, he found his shoes; they must’ve popped off somehow. He grabbed hold of them … and they wouldn’t budge. Really? Even after trying a rocking motion, it was like they were glued to the ground. Seriously?
That’s when he noticed another pair of shoes nearby. It dawned on him that he couldn’t see its soles.
He looked down at his own shoes. It’s phased into the goddamn floor. How’d it get in there, anyway? A glitch? That’d be stupid!… Though, Enthusia had said, “it’s not a mature world.” Running into an edge case right in his first second of being alive might’ve just been shit luck on his part.
A witch hat poking around the door caught his attention. The lack of decent footwear besides, maybe the committee’s actually welcoming, after all? Please don’t run away.
When he looked, she retreated. Damn it. He didn’t really have a choice here, did he?
“Hello?” he called out. “Is this” — he thought back to the blue panel messages — “World’s Origin?”
The woman peeked out again. “Y-yeah?” she said, and he was barely able to hear it. Her voice was already soft, and the distance just made it worse.
He was making her nervous, wasn’t he? Looking from the outside-in, he was just a guy who’d popped in here out of nowhere. Whether this world was peaceful or not, anyone would freak out over an unannounced visit-by-teleport, and it wouldn’t be surprising if she’d call the police on him.
On the other hand, Enty and Amacus had kept on telling him “It’s fine. They’re nice.” He didn’t really have any choice here than to wager on it.
“I’m, uh” — he raised a hand as if asking a teacher a question — “I’m new here.” He hoped he’d at least succeed in showing just how downright confused he was.
There was a quiet mutter: “New?”
The woman zoomed across the floor faster than her steps would suggest. That speed shouldn’t be possible for a normal human being — he couldn’t even finish that thought before she was right up against his face. Visions of death seized him, and for a moment, he imagined his gore splattered all over the walls.
Such visions were shattered by the woman’s excited smile. “You’re new?!”
“Whoa, there,” he drew back. Previous experience told him not to mess with Class-A superhumans … but right now, he was being assailed by visions of a wagging tail behind her.
“S-sorry,” she drew back, herself, taking a few steps away. She tilted her head and eyed him with child-like curiosity, though, something which betrayed his knowledge and experience. Power in his world drove people to do things they normally wouldn’t. Instead of child-like curiosity, they’d have rather looked at him like he were a human spreadsheet to be experimented on and reconfigured — surgically, that is.
But for this woman in front of him, power was just…normally driving her. Even now, she was making pentagrams with a rubber band between her fingers. Had he not already met Rafflesia, he would have found this meeting utterly bizarre.
Was it possible that…he could actually just talk to her normally? He waved his hand to prompt her attention. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, but do you think can I talk to a manager somewhere?”
He lightly chuckled, trying to bring down the mood. Unfortunately, the mood spiked.
She pointed at herself with a smile and an approving nod. “I-I’m the assistant manager!” she said with the same brightness as someone who pointed at their name buried somewhere in a movie’s end credits.
Wait, I wasn’t serious. “Really? No kidding?”
“I’m not!”
Praise Big E, could he finally get a decent explanation about this place?
“C-can I ask” —
“You can!”
“Whoa, there.”
His chest loosened up; he didn’t even know he was tense at all. All the questions running through his mind could finally have an outlet, and who better to answer them than someone eager and willing, the complete opposite of hostile —
Shock. He felt struck by lightning. Looking past her superhuman abilities, she’s just someone easily spooked, and when she spooked him, she had the mind to give him space once she’d realized it. Could it be that he’d discovered … a decent human being?
… Decent? …
Shock. His priorities had been reversed all along! Normalcy? A distraction. What was he doing trying to operate at a level far above the things he needed first? A life of normalcy without decency would see him making enemies left and right, and in this second chance he’d been given, he’d sworn off such a thing.
So, perhaps not a ‘normal’ life, but a ‘decent’ one. It was a more comforting thought.
He looked up at her. He began to load up questions like “Where are we?” and “Can we be friends?” into his mind’s torpedo tubes. May it be that the person in front of him wasn’t ‘normal,’ but he had a strong suspicion that any time spent with her would be worthwhile.