Irena was in a good mood. She was about to start working on a garden she got as an inheritance, and there was nothing she enjoyed more than that.

Sure, the circumstances of inheriting land from dead family members were unpleasant, but you can’t mope forever, and those juicy fruits of her upcoming labor would make them proud anyway.

She strolled over to the gate, fiddled with keys, and opened it.

Inside, the garden was pretty damn wild. Nothing was cut, nothing tended to. The vegetation was overgrown to the point, that she couldn’t see anything beyond her arms’ reach.

But, hey, it wasn’t all that bad. She did take a machete, even if she regretted it being only a single-handed 18 incher, instead of something a little bigger. Like an eight ton harvester.

She made her way through brush, trying to get to a building- any building.

She didn’t let go of her water bottle, sandwiches she had in the front pocket of her pants, nor her shovel, because this brush was so thick, there was a serious risk of losing it all. She didn’t want to have her lunch stolen by a local trash panda.

 She was glad for her work boots and trousers, because man, those stinging nettles could compete in a world championship for plants, if something like that existed.

It was a hot day, so she entertained the thought of wearing something lighter at first, but reason won, and her legs would prevail against those damn thorns and acids.

Not that she complained about those growing here. They were a pain in the ass for locals as well, so no one bothered to go through trouble of dumping garbage in the beautiful, wild garden of her parents.

Sure, it was overgrown, but once she made pathways, and planted some nice, tough plants, her work would be done.  She believed that uniformly trimmed grass and plants growing in their assigned places (and nowhere else), were a mistake.

The true appeal of gardens laid in their freedom.

You were supposed to stroll among plant life, sometimes looking high up at nesting birds, sometimes bending to walk under an odd branch with flowers too beautiful to just cut it down, as if you were bowing in gratitude for the experience.

Good garden had to have thick, dense vegetation, so that your eye couldn’t reach the outside. It would let you take your mind off everyday matters, and focus on what you came there for.

On your garden.

Lena continued to swing her machete, but even after getting tired, didn’t find a shack or anything.

It was a bit problematic, cause she kinda wanted to pick flowers. The second flowers.

To that end, she started to dig a makeshift latrine. Thank again for the shovel. She almost thought it wouldn’t come in handy today.

She bend down, her trousers near her ankles, and made a pose similar to how a ski jumping champion would prepare for the best score of his life.

She felt a relief, and after making sure that nothing else comes out, looked around for some moss, because of course she forgot the damn toilet paper.

To her surprise, there was no signs of the hole she dug. Nor was there any waste she thought she excreted. She found moss, however wiping didn’t give expected results.

 Clean, like the past five minutes were a lie.

She looked at her surroundings, somewhat creeped out. The trees and vegetation seemed a little different, jasmine flowers nowhere to be found.

She started walking. She was no longer certain to be in a garden. This looked more like a forest.

There was almost no underbrush. Just groundcover, and trees.

‘Strange. Those trees don’t look old enough to give this much shade. And was there really a place like this in this garden?

Last time I was here was only a decade ago, but I think I would remember this massive of a number of young trees.’

It was pretty weird. She continued walking, and noticed a slope in the terrain.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

‘Pretty sure this place was flat.’ She thought without certainty.

‘I always thought places get smaller when you grow up.’ This garden however, didn’t seem to follow those rules of boring adults.

Suddenly, she heard a noise in the leaves. She turned her ears towards it, and…

 ‘Wait. Did I just fukin’ move my ears?’

She reached out to grab them, and what she felt, was pointy. Way too long and pointy.

‘Is it exhaustion?’ She thought, but discarded the idea.

Irena was damn proud of her strength, and she would trust it. No amount of chopping would have her hallucinating.

‘Did something happen? Am I no longer in my garden?’ Her heart started beating faster.

She shifted her attention to another noise, this time seeing a large mouse, or perhaps a small rat. The rodent looked around, but upon seeing Irena move, it started running away.

 Her reaction was something ingrained in her from childhood. It really couldn’t be helped, that she reached for her shovel and quickly disposed of the pest, cutting it in half.

Before she could feel remorse for killing innocent forest creature without reason, she comprehended a message.

[You have killed a Dire Rat LV. 6] [For defeating a foe above your level, bonus experience is granted.]

‘What. What the. What the fuck?’ Irena felt her head spinning.

This was the closest she was to collapsing since times immemorial, but remain standing she did.

“What dire rat, what LV, what foe, what defeat, what the shit?” She said aloud.

She calmed down her panic a little bit. ‘First, where am I?’

She touched her long, pointy and wiggly ear. ‘Second, what am I?’

This time, the comprehension was easier to stomach, as if it was always there, just covered with dust that was now wiped off.

[Name: Irena Bestla

Race: Fearie Giant.

Class 1:-----------

Innate skills:

{Size manipulation} LV.1

{Faes’ shyness} LV.1

{Self regeneration} LV. 1

General skills:

{Maata Standard language, LV 3.}

{Linguistic Leap, LV 5}

Stats:

Vitality: 20

Endurance: 5

Strength: 40

Intelligence: 8

Dexterity: 4

Wisdom: 5

Health : 200/200

Mana 50/50

Stamina 50/50]

‘Oh. So when people said life isn’t a game, they were not entirely right. This feels like an RPG alright.’

She pinched her cheek, and then one of suspicious ears.

Both hurt.

‘That reminds me. Fantasy or not, I’m still alone in the wilderness. I should secure my immediate survival. Let’s go over my resources.’

She looked into her deep pockets, and found as follows.

Pocket knife.

A pair of tweezers for those damn ticks.

A water bottle with a filter.

A matchbox that most likely stayed in her pants since the last cemetery visit.

There was also a machete, and a shovel.

There was no phone, since she didn’t have anyone to call either way, and documents were probably left in the car. Whatever, It’s not like she would care, even if someone steals her ride now.

Same with the keys. Whatever happened to those, was no longer her business.

She started walking in random direction. The day was slowly coming to an end, hence she barely noticed a clearing in the woods. The grass was pretty short for a wild growth.

‘Well, maybe it’s just the matter of species.’ She concluded.

That being said, the place seemed perfect for a night’s rest.

‘Okay, let’s try gathering some wood.’ She decided, and looked at the ground.

Her search was not without success. She hauled a fallen tree to her campsite, and saw a message again.

[You have proven greater strength and endurance. Strength +5, Endurance +1]

‘Uuu, nice. Wonder what that means. Come to think of it, I wonder what any of this means.’

Instead of chopping the wood immediately, She sat down on it. The thing creaked a little, but that wasn’t unusual for a tree this thin.

‘Okay. I’m in a world with magic. Not sure about swords, maybe they have mana nukes here instead, but the point is, this is pretty fantasy like. Now then, what do my stats mean? There is a pretty big disparity between my dexterity and strength. Am I monstrously strong, or incredibly clumsy?’

Somewhere deep inside, she had a feeling it was a bit of both.

‘Well. Guess one way to find out. But we’ll get to this in a minute. First, what does my race mean?

Judging by the ears I would take a wild guess that I should be an elf, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. Faerie Giant? What part of me is gigantic, dammit?’

It was actually something she got frustrated a lot about. Her entire family was huge. 6’6 wasn’t uncommon even for females, in fact, that was how tall was her grandma, back when she could stand with a straight back. Or at all.

Meanwhile, Irena could barely reach average height. In heels and a top hat, that is. Sure, she was still really strong for her size, but that didn’t really help when every single shelf in her parents’ house was unreachable.

At least she wasn’t flat, or people would still ask her if she got separated from her parents in a supermarket.

That’s when it dawned on her.

‘That fucking thing must’ve mistaken me for a big pixie, and decided my race like that.’ She looked at imaginary Isekai office worker. ‘Where are my wings then, huh?’

She shrugged, and sighed.

‘Right, there are [Innate skills]. Probably something with my race.’

‘I wonder what that size manipulation is, it sounds promising.’

As if responding to her question, a description came.

[Size Manipulation uses mana to let you change size.]

‘Vague. I need the cost. I hope it comes later, or maybe I’ll have to experiment. What about [Faes’ Shyness]?’

{[Faes’ Shyness] Lets you remain undetected much easier, should you choose to hide from prying eyes. The effect is limited due to Faerie Giants immense size, and strengthened in presence of nature.}

‘Okay, that sounds surprisingly helpful. But jab me about my size again, huh?’

Judging it unnecessary to read about self regeneration, and a bit irked off, Irena grabbed her machete, and started working on wood. It was fairly dry, so the work wasn’t easy, but it would pay off at night.

Thump. Cling. Thump. Cling. Thump. The blade resounded through the forest.

When Irena stopped for a moment, to readjust her grip, She heard steps behind her. She quickly away, to face potential threat.

The adversary looked at her with hostility, and let out a mighty roar that shook nearby trees.

BBAAAAAAAAA!!!!

A ram shook its wooly head, and prepared for a charge.