Hours had passed as I trudged down what seemed like an endless path leading to who knows where. "You just had to go and mess it all up," I muttered to myself, recalling the moment I stepped through that wardrobe. Regret washed over me, a cold reminder of my foolishness, made all the more tangible by the pyjamas I hadn't bothered to change out of. Each step was a pathetic slog, my feet aching from the rough path, the absence of shoes a glaring oversight.

The landscape around me was foreign and unforgiving. Dense forests flanked the narrow trail, their towering trees casting long shadows that stretched across my path. Occasionally, I heard the rustle of leaves and the distant call of unfamiliar birds, adding to my sense of isolation. The air was crisp and carried a damp, earthy scent, a stark contrast to the stale, confined atmosphere I had left behind.

"Surely the city is in this direction," I thought, though the last time I had taken a walk was so long ago that I could have easily wandered down a random trail. My memories were hazy, and the unfamiliar terrain only compounded my anxiety. The path itself was uneven, dotted with sharp stones and gnarled roots that threatened to trip me with every step. Blisters had begun to form on my heels, and with each painful step, I cursed my decision to embark on this journey so ill-prepared.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the landscape, but its beauty was lost on me as exhaustion and despair took hold. My stomach growled, a reminder that I hadn't eaten since breakfast, and my throat was parched. I scanned the area for any sign of a stream or a berry bush, but found none. The further I walked, the more I questioned my sense of direction. What if I was heading deeper into the wilderness instead of towards civilization?

As the hours dragged on, my thoughts grew darker. I had no idea where I was or how I would find my way back. My mind was a whirlwind of doubt and fear, each step feeling more futile than the last. The regret that had been a small nagging thought now loomed large, a constant reminder of my predicament.

Yet, despite the overwhelming sense of hopelessness, a small part of me clung to the belief that I would find help. It was this faint glimmer of hope that kept me moving forward, one painful step at a time.

After what felt like an eternity, my ears caught a distant sound—a rhythmic trotting noise. It was not a human, but an animal. A horse, perhaps? Where there are horses, there must be humans. Clinging to this sliver of hope, I ran towards the noise as if my life depended on it. The sound grew louder, and my heart pounded in my chest. Finally, after nearly a minute, I saw them: three men and two horses.

The horses were a sight to behold—enormous, much larger than any I had ever seen on Earth. Their coats shimmered in the fading light, one a deep, glossy black and the other a rich chestnut brown. They stood tall and proud, their muscles rippling under their sleek hides, and their eyes intelligent and aware. Their bridles and saddles were intricately adorned with silver and gold accents, suggesting they belonged to someone of importance.

The men, however, appeared to be ordinary Europeans, though their attire was distinctly medieval. They wore tunics of coarse wool and leather, belted at the waist, with sturdy boots that looked well-worn from travel. Each carried a sword at his side, and their cloaks, fastened with ornate brooches, fluttered gently in the breeze. One man, tall with a stern face and a bushy beard, held the reins of both horses. Another, younger with sharp eyes and a clean-shaven face, looked at me with curiosity. The third man, middle-aged and slightly stout, seemed to be the leader, his posture exuding authority. He had a scar running down his left cheek, giving him a rugged, battle-hardened appearance.

"Hey!" I shouted, instantly covering my mouth in shock. I had spoken in a language I had never heard before. "What the hell is happening?" My mind raced, but I found no answers. The leader, his voice deep and resonant, broke the silence. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Me? I am Yoshida," I replied, my voice trembling.

"Yoshida, huh," the leader remarked, his expression unreadable. "What a strange name. Why are you out here alone?"

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"I got lost," I admitted, "and I was looking for a way to the city."

"So, you need a ride to the city, do you? Well, come with us," the leader offered.

Relief washed over me as I stepped closer. The leader extended his hand, a gesture that seemed familiar yet odd in this setting. "Strange," I thought. Handshakes were an Earth custom, but perhaps these people had similar gestures. I took his hand, hopeful that this encounter might finally lead me to safety. As I grabbed his hand, I felt an unwavering grip, as if he would never let go. His strength was intimidating. Before I could fully comprehend what was happening, the man who had been holding the horse reins was no longer beside the carriage. In an astonishingly swift movement, he was now gripping his sword by the blade, his eyes filled with fierce determination.

Time seemed to slow down as I tried to process the sudden shift. In a split second, he moved with such speed and precision that I was left breathless. The last thing I saw was a flash of steel slicing through the air. A sharp, searing pain erupted at the tip of my chin, and everything went black as I was rendered completely unconscious.

I awoke with a start, my head throbbing and my senses disoriented. As I blinked away the fog of unconsciousness, the first thing I noticed was the cold, hard ground beneath me. The air was damp and musty, filled with the scent of mildew and decay. I struggled to sit up, my body protesting with every movement. The room around me was dimly lit, light coming from a small, barred window high on one wall and a single, flickering torch mounted on the wall outside which cast long, eerie shadows across the floor.

"Oh, you're finally awake," a voice suddenly remarked from behind me. "Where are you from? You look so strange."

Startled by the barrage of questions, I took a moment to process that someone was behind me. After a brief silence, I responded, "I don't know," as if this random man, barely visible in the dark corner, could possibly understand where I was from.

"The man from nowhere, eh?" he chuckled to himself, a grin barely visible in the darkness. Just as he was about to continue, I interrupted him.

"Where are we?" I asked, my confusion probably evident on my face.

The man stopped, looking almost bewildered. "Well, of course, we're in the great city of Pax," he said proudly. "The sanctuary city for all five nations of the world." In that moment, I realised I hadn't stumbled into a time portal to the past, but had stepped into a completely different dimension.

"The five nations?" The words fell out of my mouth unconsciously.

"Yes, the five nations," he responded. "If you don't even know that, then you must truly be from nowhere. There's the Cassis Empire, the strongest nation; their rivals, the Sylvan Empire, a bunch of tree huggers; the peaceful monks of Nierra; the lunatics of Draconia who believe they came from dragons; and the Holy State of Credeni, birthplace of the God of the Sky."

He paused for a moment, studying my reaction. "Pax is a unique city," he continued. "Here, violence and war are forbidden. It's a neutral ground where people from all five nations come to trade, discuss diplomacy, and seek refuge. The city's very existence is a testament to the possibility of peace and cooperation."

I tried to absorb everything he was saying. The names of the nations sounded both foreign and familiar, and the concept of a city dedicated to peace was almost too good to be true. "How... how did I get here?" I asked, more to myself than to him.

"That's a question only you can answer," he said, his tone suddenly serious. "People don't just end up in Pax by accident. There's always a reason, a purpose. Maybe you'll find yours soon enough."

I felt a tumultuous mix of anxiety and curiosity as I glanced around the dimly lit, cold, and musty cell. "Why are we in a prison cell?" I asked the mysterious man who shared my confinement.

"A prison cell? Oh no, boy, we're in the gauntlet." he replied, his voice laced with a grim acceptance.

"The gauntlet?" I echoed, confusion tinged with fear.

"Yes, the gauntlet," he said, a weary look settling on his face. "There is one exception to the rule of peace in Pax, and that is the gauntlet—a place where both ordinary and wealthy folk come to watch our sorry asses get slaughtered by animals, knights, or each other."

As his words sank in, I rifled through my thoughts, trying to make sense of our predicament. Finally, the pieces clicked together. "So, we're gladiators?"

Before the man could respond, an ear-shattering banging reverberated through the bars of our cell. I looked up to see a small, fat man standing there, not tall or well-built, but exuding an air of authority.

"You two, stop talking and get some rest. You both have jobs to do tomorrow," he commanded, his voice gruff and devoid of empathy.

The mysterious man in the corner of my cell turned his back to me and curled up, as if resigning himself to whatever fate awaited him. I watched him, then lay down on the hard, cold floor, trying to ignore the gnawing fear and uncertainty that gripped me. This world was foreign and hostile, and I couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom. As I closed my eyes, attempting to find sleep in this bleak environment, a single thought echoed in my mind: "What the hell did I get myself into?"

To be continued…