Warmth is spreading from my chest to my entire body, making me tingle all over. The intensity of the heat increases in meager increments until it becomes unbearable.

Already screaming, I open my eyes.

The room is ablaze. A vivid fire is spreading at an alarming rate, consuming furniture, cloth, and walls. Frozen in place, I stare at the flames for a few seconds. In the next instant, I throw the covers aside. I jump out of bed and make a run for the door. There’s nowhere to hide, no escape. Not only are the flames following me, but it also seems that I’m their source.

From within, my body’s burning. The flames are a part of me. It tingles, it hurts, and at the same time, it doesn’t. When I open my mouth to scream, more flames burst through like an enraged dragon’s breath.

I drop to the floor. I roll from one side to the other in a futile attempt to put out the fire. It doesn’t do any good. I shriek again, in outrage and desperation, until my throat feels raw.

The agony ends with a few raspy words. “Rest easy, child. This is your path, your destiny.”

I recognize the voice of the old hag who cursed me.

I gather all my willpower to scream at her—

Then I wake up.

My chest is heaving as I struggle with the rapid breaths I’m taking. I clench my fists so hard my knuckles turn white. Sweat coats my entire body, and—by God—I reek.

I’m all alone in the room—not my bedroom—and pale rays of sunlight glimmer on the walls.

The door opens. The woman I saw at the counter last night walks in with a tray. I breathe in the heady aroma of baked bread. My stomach growls in protest.

A timid smile marks her lips when she sets the tray next to me. I notice a small bowl filled with what looks like strawberry jam. My mother used to make a fresh batch of strawberry jam every year for me, and it looked exactly like that.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my throat still raw. The first thing I grab is the water pitcher to gulp down the refreshing liquid. Plain water never tasted so fine.

The woman nods, turns, and then walks away. She’s not even out the door when I start wolfing down the food. I guess I was hungrier than I realized. Warm bread and strawberry jam—I must have landed in my private heaven.

After I finish eating, I grab my sword. I look everywhere for the scroll to read the incantation and get on with the mission I received last night. No matter how much I look, I can’t find it anywhere. I call it quits and head downstairs.

Holding a tray of hot beverages, Greta is heading toward one of the tables. I grab her arm to stop her. “Do you know by any chance how I can get to the place for my next mission?”

“Use the scroll Tharn gave you.”

I blink the confusion away. Then I realize that Tharn is the old man who gave me the reward items and then sent me on another fool’s errand. “I can’t find it anymore. It’s as if it vanished. Is there any other way I could get there?” I ask, a trace of hope lingering in my question.

She nods. “Use the gates located on the west side of the village. It will get you close enough to see the hunting grounds.” She jerks free and walks away.

“Thanks, Greta. You’re a sweetheart,” I shout after her. Is that a blush on her cheeks? I embarrassed her, and the cuteness of the involuntary gesture makes me smile.

When I walk out the door, the rays of the sun hit me like a thousand needles. I squint against the intense light. I study the sun’s current location for a few moments. Since it’s morning now, and the sun is toward the east, I need to head in the opposite direction.

I start walking, minutes ticking by. I don’t see the gates at first, but the more I walk, the closer I get until they come into view. They look nothing like the other ones. No one is guarding them. On both sides of the gates, two torches are burning in broad daylight. These people sure do have some odd ways of doing things.

I walk past the torches, heading toward the stairs. I take them two at a time, anxious to complete my mission. When I get to the top, I freeze. The field is crawling with countless skeletons. They’re scarier-looking than the ones I had to slay before.

Some of the skeletons are archers, each holding a bow in one hand. Instead of having a few arrows, they have a quiver of arrows fully packed on their backs. Their clothing is not as ragged as the skeletons from the previous mission were wearing. They stand up straighter and move without taking a break as if they’re alive and breathing. The equipment they’re holding doesn’t scare me. Their teeth do. They look like tiny saws that are protruding from their mouth instead of pearly whites.

The other skeletons are holding some kind of long shield with a pointy edge that resembles a sword. These look as if someone braided bones onto their skulls.

Movement in my peripheral vision on the left draws my attention. I turn as fast as I can. There’s a man in the field of monsters. A transparent blue animal that looks more like a pony than it does a horse accompanies him. A strange light blooms in the palm of his hand until it reaches the size of a wizard’s orb. He throws the ball of light toward the creature closest to him, dealing a killing blow.

“Hey!” I yell and wave at him. Given that he’s wearing a suit, I’m inclined to believe he’s from my world and can help me get back. If not, then he can at least give me a crash course in what living here means. By the time I gather my wits to call for him again, some sort of bright portal opens beneath his feet. He starts glimmering and then completely vanishes.

Hell.

I blew my chance at speaking with him. I drop my head and stare at the ground. I take a few deep breaths to calm down. When I accept that fact, my attention gets back to the skeletons moving around. They look like they’re biding their time waiting for prey to fall into their clutches. An involuntary shiver runs through my body, raising goosebumps on my skin.

I walk behind an archer, the least scary creature, to attack it. I killed the other archers by hiding behind them, so the same strategy should work again, right? As soon as I land my first hit, I realize how wrong I’ve been. The skeleton takes a few quick steps back. It turns toward me. Its stance changes as it gets into a shooting position and then pulls the string to let the arrow loose.

I rush after it to land another hit with my sword. I don’t get to it because the arrow embeds in my shoulder. It vanishes in a couple of seconds. I don’t know if it’s the heat of the moment, but I am numb. A trickle of blood changes the color of my tunic where the arrow used to be. When I finally get close to the skeleton and swing my sword trying to kill it, I have to bite back a cry of pain.

No other creature comes to its aid as we exchange blows. I’m using the sword to fight the skeleton. The sack of bones keeps shooting arrows at me. The fight lasts longer than I anticipated.

As minutes go by, I become weaker. I’m now full of tiny wounds. They start closing as the fight continues. The pace they’re healing at is not fast enough to keep me at full strength. I hit the skeleton wherever I can, hoping it would give up and die already.

I finally land the killing blow. I’m struggling for each breath. My body is a mass of aches and pains, and I collapse to the ground. While I rest, I try to count the number of hits I needed to kill the creature. Were they twenty or thirty? I’m inclined to believe it was closer to thirty.

I’d better stay away from archers for a while. My other option is the other creature prowling the field. I raise my sword to attack one of those. The skeleton strikes back as the archer did in the previous fight. That’s when I figure out that what I thought to be a shield is a crossbow. The impact of the bolts pushes me back each time they hit me.

I use my sword relentlessly, dealing blow after blow, until I fall to my knees from exhaustion, panting heavily. My body is a mass of sores and pain—I don’t know how many bolts pierced my flesh. The skeleton raises its left hand, holding the crossbow. A flash of panic makes me think I’m taking my last breath. When the creature reaches with its right hand to shoot the projectile, I see an opening. With the last of my strength, I raise my sword with both hands and plunge it deep between the creature’s ribs.

My opponent vanishes. I collapse to the ground again and curl into a fetal position. I wait to recover while my hand is still clenching around the hilt of my sword. I can’t stop thinking that the skeleton with the crossbow was much harder to kill than the one with the bow. I guess I’m going to have to stick to killing archers.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Once I recover, I get back on my feet and attack the next archer. I have to rest after each fight. I do this like a typical routine: kill a creature, sit down, rest, stand up, and start again. I realize how fast time has passed when I notice the field getting a reddish hue as the sun is setting. I slay one more creature and then stop for the day.

After a well-deserved rest, I get up and go back to the village. The torches are still burning bright at the gates. My destination is the inn, to talk with Greta and Tharn. On my way there, I can’t stop thinking that I haven’t collected any kind of token to have as proof for the number of creatures killed.

I hope that I won’t need it. I haven’t even noticed whether the creatures had any items or not. If I have to go back to the field, I’m going to have a fit.

The inn is as deserted as ever. Greta is not there. Tharn is sitting in a rocking chair with his eyes closed. The floor squeaks under my bare, frozen feet, and he lazily opens one eye to look at me.

“Welcome back. Did you kill all the monsters?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

Twin eyebrows rise almost to touching his white hair. “The exact number was written on the scroll.”

“I don’t have it anymore. I couldn’t find it this morning.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” he mutters under his breath.

My questions die in my throat.

From his pocket, he pulls out a pile of scrolls, a few conical flask bottles filled with a red liquid, and some pieces of black ore. He puts all the items on the table. “Take them. If you killed all the monsters you had to, then you’ll be able to obtain them,” he explains.

Using both hands, I grab the scrolls first. After a few seconds of holding them, they fade away into nothingness, and I’m left empty-handed. I take the bottles next, and then black ore pieces. The same happens to them. Why did I not notice this phenomenon happening last night with the jewelry and the scroll?

I raise inquisitive eyes at Tharn.

A wide grin spreads across his face. “It seems that you killed enough creatures,” he comments. He crosses his arms on his chest, leans backward, and puts the rocking chair in motion.

I get that I’m supposed to understand something important, but the information doesn’t click with me. I stare at the old man long enough until he chooses to enlighten me. “You still had the scroll with you.”

I’m still staring at him.

“Do I need to spell it for you?” He huffs. “The system menu does not display the information, so you do not see the items you have in inventory.”

“Oh…” I whisper meekly. The realization hits me square in the face. “Oh!”

“Yeah…oh! Younglings these days…” he says, shaking his head.

If there’s a system menu, then this world is more like a game than I thought. There are so many details I don’t have, so much information missing. What level am I? Do I have skills? What do I have in my inventory?

What are the available options in the system menu?

I have one pressing question that I say aloud.

“How do I activate the system menu?”

Tharn gets up from the chair, goes to the counter, and grabs a glass. He fills it with water, I think, and then turns toward me. “Don’t know. Don’t care. You’ll need to find someone who has that kind of information.” He takes a sip. “Now, tell me. Are you ready to change your destiny and become stronger still?”

Something clues me in that I’m about to receive another quest.

“I sure am.”

After all, what do I have to lose?

“Good. You’ve trained well for a novice adventurer. To become more, go to Captain Bastien in the town of Lugdo. He’s the one who entrusted me with training new adventurers, and you’ve aced all the tests. I’m sure he’d be delighted to meet you.”

“I get it. Is there anything else I should do?”

“How about another hunt before you get there?”

I chuckle. Another quest, I saw this one coming. “Let’s say I’m interested. What do I have to do?”

“Speak with Elayna, Greta’s sister, in Lugdo. She will tell you exactly where to go and what to do.”

I wait for him to tell me how to get to Lugdo, give me a scroll or something, or at least tell me what direction I should take. He keeps quiet and takes another sip from his glass. When he turns his back to me, I realize he does not intend to say anything.

I hurry after him, place one hand on his shoulder, and turn his toward me. “Old man, how do I get where I’m going?”

He snorts. “Just take the northern road. Walk until you hit the crossroads and when you do, go left. Keep walking until you reach the town.”

I nod. “Thanks.” A grin spreads across my face. Then, referring to the extra information he had provided, I comment teasingly, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Go on your way and leave me alone,” he grumbles, but I see a trace of a smile on his lips. The old coot is having fun.

I leave him be and walk out the door. I go straight toward the gates on the west side of the village because I already know where they are. I’m not sure the information I recall is correct, but one of the fields with creatures had a dirt road at its very edge. Keeping a steady pace, I run past the skeletons. I leave behind the broken fence and the field without grass. With the sun already set, the moon is my only source of light, but it’s enough to see my surroundings.

On both sides of the path, thick pillars are the last indication that I’m leaving the village. I reach the crossroads faster than expected. Several leafless trees mark the intersection. On my right side, there are two roads. One goes uphill, and the other gets lost downward, I’m assuming in a valley somewhere. On the left, hills and trees flank the only visible road.

Tharn said I should take a left, so I turn in that direction and break into a run. Keeping a steady pace, I end up close to a road sign marking another intersection. Three wooden arrows with markings on them show the way. I try reading the inscription, but I can’t understand or recognize the language. That gets me nowhere.

Going back is out of the question. Tharn didn’t mention anything about going right, so the other option that’s left is to walk straight ahead. Large boulders, surrounded by trees and grass, decorate the hill on my left. If I look up, I can see the night sky dotted with stars.

I run again for a while until exhaustion is creeping in. Luckily, I see a house ahead. In front of the house, a wooden structure with a modest roof is visible. By the looks of it, it’s a well. My mouth is suddenly as dry as the desert. I see no light coming through the windows, so I pick up speed to get there faster. The wooden fence looks ready to collapse. I find a way inside the yard and rush to the well.

I doubt anyone would mind if I drink some water. I use the rope to pull out the bucket. The water looks clear—I can see the moon reflected on its surface. I drink greedily from the bucket without any second thoughts. Germs and impurities can be damned. I’m too thirsty to care.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and then look one more time at the house. The structure looks ready to collapse. The outer layer of paint has holes in too many places. The three front stairs are in serious need of repair, and straws are the best choice for a roof. They work for emergencies, but in the end, they’re not worth the effort.

I try to open the front door, but it wouldn’t budge. At least something is sturdy here.

Next to the well, there’s an open-air shed, I suspect for animals, currently empty. On the other side, a few barrels mark the front of the house, along with a thick tree log with an ax embedded in it.

“Anyone home?” I yell. The sound echoes into the quiet night, but I get no answer whatsoever.

I shrug, ready to go on my merry way. Before leaving, I want to test a little theory I concocted. I grab the handle of the ax and remove it from the log. I watch it as it slowly disappears from my hand. If Tharn is correct, then the ax should now be in my inventory. I can’t wait to find out whether it’s there or not.

Back on the road, I walk at a slower pace. Fatigue settles in my body, making me feel as I’ve run to the moon and back. I can’t keep a fast pace anymore. My feet feel wobbly, the muscles in my neck and shoulders tense. I can’t begin to describe how tempted I am to lie down and get some sleep. I know what dozing off does to me, and I’d rather not face the nightmares yet. I take slow breaths and keep on walking.

After a while, I end up at yet another crossroads. This one is unmarked. On the left, I can see the tile rooftops of several houses and thin streams of grayish smoke rising toward the sky, a clear indication someone is living there. Straight ahead, the road continues, hidden between the hills on the right and the trees on the left. I don’t recall Tharn having said anything about taking a left turn, so I keep walking forward.

The susurration of the water is music to my ears.

I reach the river and look at the gentle waves reflecting the pale moonlight. I close my eyes to inhale the fresh scent.

A few seconds of respite feel so good.

I can’t afford any delays. The longer I stay here, the more time I’ll need to find a way out of here and back to my old life. I sigh and go on my way.

The river shoreline is steep near the hills, and the road does not have any kind of railing. I have to be extra careful on the path and stay close to the slope of the hill.

Night becomes day, as the sun casts pale rays from between the clouds. Given that it’s been a long time since I started walking, I want to keep asking the same question the way kids do.

Am I there yet?

I come to an old wooden bridge and cross the river without any issues. From there the road makes a right and finally, I see a town in the distance. Twin towers made of rock dominate the landscape, a clear indication that I’m close to my destination.

Like an athlete, I try to give my best at the end of the race and find the strength to pick up speed again. I stop at roughly sixty feet away from the guards, staring at them and the stronghold in front of me.

I need answers to a few questions, including whether I’m in the right place or not. While trying to determine who is more approachable, I sense someone creeping up on me. I don’t get the chance to turn and face the other person. Something wickedly sharp—a knife most likely—pierces my back. I choke on saliva and cough and sputter. With whatever determination I have left, I try to face my attacker. Another plunge of the wicked blade close to my spinal cord leaves me incapacitated. I let out a groan of pain, and I fall to the ground.

I’m as good as dead.