As Thomas blinked the sleep from his eyes, his hand instinctively reached out toward the bedside table. He groped at the air, but his fingers found only empty space. There was no phone. Of course there wasn’t—he wasn't in his old world anymore. No alarm, no familiar screen to tap. Just the quiet rustling of trees outside his cabin, the faint smell of smoke still lingering from the fire last night.
He sighed and rolled over, muttering to himself. "Gonna take some getting used to." But as his groggy brain caught up with him, he remembered something that still made him feel somewhat normal—his internet skill. He mentally activated it, and suddenly his mind felt like it was hooked into Wi-Fi, scanning through the channels like flipping through old TV stations. Discord. He focused on it and, like magic, the app appeared in his mind’s eye.
He checked his usual chats. Nothing. The same memes, the same weird conversation between some strangers arguing about pineapple on pizza. No apocalyptic updates, no "Thomas, where the hell are you, bro?"
It was eerie, how normal everything seemed in his online world. Almost disappointing.
"Of course," Thomas mumbled. "Can’t even get a dramatic sendoff from the guys. Just... pineapple debates."
Shaking his head, he decided to check something that mattered: food. He rummaged through the small cabinet near the foot of his bed and found the dried deer jerky he had smoked and cooked the night before. Still plenty left. It wasn’t gourmet, but it would keep him alive. He grabbed a strip and chewed on it, the salty taste grounding him back into his strange, new reality.
“So, just another day, huh?” he muttered to the air, gnawing on the tough jerky. "Just me and this freakin' jerky."
As Thomas gnawed on the jerky, a notification blinked in his mind from Discord—a mention in the group chat. He mentally opened it.
@RuneMaster69: "Dude, you should totally do a livestream tour of wherever the hell you are. We wanna see the wild fantasy world. Could get mad views."
Thomas snorted, shaking his head. He made a mental note to reply later. Right now, he had more pressing matters to deal with.
Like figuring out this damn rune art.
He picked up the rune book he had snagged the previous night—a weathered, leather-bound thing with pages that felt like they could crumble at any second. He’d glanced through it before bed, but now he had more time to actually dig in.
He stared at the intricate designs in the book, each rune unique, like some ancient, mystical version of a QR code. He had no idea what half the symbols meant, but something about them felt... familiar? Then it hit him.
These look like programming codes. The realization felt like a lightbulb going off in his brain. It made sense—runes weren’t just fancy carvings or drawings. They were instructions, commands. Just like coding back in his world, except instead of running on electricity, they ran on magic. And the power source? That was where the magic stones came in.
He pulled one of the small stones from his pouch, holding it up to the light. The stone shimmered faintly, a soft glow pulsing inside it like a heartbeat. This was the fuel. The more potent the stone, the more powerful the rune.
Thomas flipped through the book again, his eyes scanning a passage that had caught his attention last night. What matters is the intention engraved within the runes.
That part had stuck with him. It wasn’t just about drawing the symbols correctly. The meaning, the purpose behind the rune—that’s what gave it power. Which meant... he could create his own runes someday. He grinned. If he could master this, he could design runes tailored to his needs, just like writing custom code.
But first, he had to figure out how the hell any of this worked.
Damn, I need more knowledge, he thought, closing the book with a heavy thud. Just deciphering these basic runes felt like cracking a decades-old, undocumented coding language
An idea hit Thomas like a brick to the face. If runes worked like coding, then he could build something practical—something useful. He wasn’t going to survive on jerky and cold meals forever. He needed a stove.
He stood up, the noble outfit he found draping comfortably over his shoulders. It felt strange wearing something so refined in a place that still smelled like damp stone and old smoke. But hey, if he was going to figure out magic runes, he might as well look the part.
He wandered through his new home, heading down the hallway past the bookstand where he’d discovered the rune book. The dim light from the cave barely illuminated the space, casting long shadows that flickered ominously as he moved. The walls, etched with age and mystery, felt both confining and... welcoming in a weird way. This place had secrets, and he intended to uncover every last one of them.
He found a clear, open spot in the corner of the cave near the spiral staircase. It was the perfect place for his experiment. The floor was flat, smooth, and ready to be inscribed with whatever crazy rune combination he could come up with.
"Alright," he muttered, pulling out his golden pen. "Let’s make a freakin’ stove."
The basic idea came together in his head. He needed runes to control input and output, a way to adjust the heat, and, most importantly, a connection to the magic stone as a power source. He flipped through the rune book again, cross-referencing different symbols. Some represented fire, others heat control. He even found one that resembled a dial, which could be useful for making adjustments.
Kneeling down, he began engraving runes into the stone floor. His hand moved fluidly with the pen, golden light tracing each symbol as he carved them with intention. The symbols glowed faintly once they were completed, like little neon signs waiting for power.
First, he wrote a rune to handle the fire, the basic heat source. Then, directly next to it, he added one for control—to adjust the intensity. After that, he inscribed a rune that represented containment, making sure the heat stayed localized. Lastly, he carved a small slot for the magic stone—the power source that would fuel the entire thing.
Once finished, he stood back and admired his work. It was rough, and he had no idea if it would blow up in his face or actually work, but it was something. He slid one of the smaller magic stones from his pouch and gently placed it into the slot he’d carved.
The runes flared to life, pulsing with a soft, golden glow. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a faint warmth radiated from the floor. Thomas grinned. He could feel it—his stove was working.
“Hell yeah,” he whispered to himself, stepping back and wiping the sweat from his forehead. “I’ve officially built a magic-powered stove. Next stop, Rune Engineering 101."
Thomas stood over his makeshift magic stove, basking in the warm glow of his success, but his stomach growled, reminding him of one very inconvenient truth: he had nothing to cook on it. Sure, he had some jerky, but that was about as useful on a stove as a rock in a microwave. He needed real supplies—a frying pan, kitchen utensils, maybe some seasonings. But that was a whole shopping list of problems he wasn’t ready to deal with yet.
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"Yeah, slow down, Thomas," he muttered, looking down at the glowing runes. "Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I can roast some meat, but pan-frying? That’s some next-level culinary sorcery."
As he stood there, planning out his imaginary fantasy kitchen, his mind wandered back to yesterday’s disaster—his less-than-dignified introduction to the world. He cringed just thinking about it. There he was, naked, with nothing but a few strategically placed leaves covering his manhood, trying to stop a merchant wagon. He’d been ignored. Completely dismissed. As if a naked man in the road wasn’t even worth the time of day.
"Yeah, probably for the best," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Would’ve been weird for them to stop and chat with me looking like a deranged forest hermit."
But now, things were different. He wasn’t some lunatic in a leaf loincloth anymore—he was dressed like a proper noble. Well, as proper as he could manage in this new world, anyway. With the noble outfit draped over him, he could finally walk into town with some dignity. This time, he wouldn’t be laughed off the road.
His grin widened as the thought formed in his mind. He could officially gather information now—economic information. If he wanted to survive, he needed to figure out how this world worked, what currency they used, and what the hell he could trade to get some decent food and supplies. He also needed to understand what the hell was valuable here. Magic stones? Runes? His internet skills? Or was it something else entirely?
"Alright," he said, stretching out and adjusting his noble outfit. "Time to enter town and act like I belong here. No more forest hobo vibes. I’m going full-on noble mode."
Thomas paused at the top of the spiral staircase, his plan to waltz into town in full noble mode coming to a screeching halt. What the hell was he going to sell? He couldn’t just show up empty-handed, and his magic stones were far too valuable. They were essentially batteries for his rune art and could be worth a small fortune—or could get him killed if people found out how valuable they were. Plus, the last thing he wanted was to reveal his rune abilities too soon. For all he knew, his skills might make him a walking target for every power-hungry kingdom around.
Yeah, let’s not kick off a two-kingdom war over little ol' me, he thought, smirking at the idea. As grandiose as it sounded, there was no denying that caution was the smart play.
His eyes wandered to the bow resting against the wall, a crude thing he’d hastily put together with weaved vines and a sturdy branch. It wasn’t much to look at—definitely not the kind of thing you’d find in a seasoned hunter’s arsenal—but it had worked so far. Still, he knew it wasn’t a permanent solution. The bow needed an upgrade, but for now, it’d do. He couldn’t risk inscribing runes on this half-assed contraption, though. One bad rune and it’d snap in half, or worse, blow up in his face.
Alright, let’s go old-school hunter for now. He could hunt some game, drag it into town, and sell it off to buy a better bow, maybe some iron ingots for forging. Hell, if he played his cards right, he could even craft his own sword. The thought of building his own weapons, enhanced with his own runes, was almost too tempting.
But first things first. Thomas grabbed the bow, slinging it over his shoulder. He checked his quiver—only a few makeshift arrows left. They’d do for a quick hunt, but he’d need more supplies soon.
One last thought crossed his mind before he headed out: runic protection. He wasn’t about to wander into town with all his runes out in the open for anyone to see, but nothing said he couldn’t protect himself in secret. Grabbing his magic pen, he began inscribing runes on his body—just small ones, hidden beneath his noble outfit. One for strength, to give him a little boost if things got physical, and one for speed, in case he needed to make a quick escape.
He glanced down at his work, satisfied with the barely visible marks hidden under his clothing. No one would see them unless he wanted them to.
"Alright," he muttered, rolling his shoulders and feeling the slight hum of magic beneath his skin. "Let’s go bag some game, make some cash, and maybe get my hands on some iron. And maybe... not get thrown into a dungeon this time."
Thomas walked through the dense forest, the smell of pine and damp earth surrounding him as he kept his senses sharp for any sign of game. He had already marked several trees with his knife, carving notches into the bark to track his path. Getting lost in this wilderness was the last thing he needed right now. Every few steps, he'd pause, listening for movement—anything that might signal a rabbit or deer nearby. His bow was ready, though in the back of his mind, he knew his makeshift arrows wouldn’t do much for bigger game.
Suddenly, he heard it. The sound of something heavy crashing through the underbrush. His instincts flared. Something’s coming. He spun around just in time to see it—a wild boar, massive, barreling toward him with terrifying speed.
“Shit!” he hissed, diving out of the way as the beast charged, barely avoiding its tusks. The boar skidded to a stop, snorting aggressively before turning its small, angry eyes on him again. It was bigger than most wild boars, easily a couple hundred pounds of pure muscle and rage.
This is bad, he thought, scrambling to his feet. He needed to think fast. His arrows wouldn’t stand a chance unless he did something drastic. That’s when the idea hit him—he could inscribe a rune onto one of his arrows. He grabbed an arrow from his quiver, quickly scratching an amplification rune onto the shaft with his magic pen. If he couldn’t make his arrow stronger physically, he’d do it magically.
The boar pawed at the ground, preparing to charge again, and Thomas moved, positioning himself near a thick tree. He grinned, an idea forming.
“Hey, porky!” he yelled, mocking the boar with a wave. The creature, furious, took the bait and charged, its hooves pounding the ground with terrifying speed. But Thomas was ready this time. At the last second, he dove out of the way, and the boar slammed headfirst into the tree with a sickening thud.
The boar staggered for a second, dazed from the impact. This was his chance. Thomas didn’t waste a second. He nocked the rune-inscribed arrow, drew back the bowstring, and let it fly. The arrow whistled through the air and struck the boar behind its shoulder, right into its heart. The amplification rune flared with a soft glow, and the arrow pierced deeper than it ever should have, sinking into the boar’s flesh with deadly precision.
The beast let out a final, guttural squeal before collapsing, its massive body hitting the forest floor with a heavy thud.
Thomas stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, his heart still racing from the encounter. He looked down at the now-dead boar and couldn’t help but grin.
“Not bad for a half-assed arrow,” he muttered, walking over to retrieve his kill. It wasn’t the rabbit or deer he had been expecting, but this was much better. A wild boar of this size would fetch a decent price in town. Enough to get him those iron ingots, maybe even a new bow.
He crouched down, inspecting the boar. The rune on the arrow had done its job, and now he had more than enough meat to sell. With a satisfied nod, Thomas began the grueling task of prepping the boar for transport, ready to haul his prize back to town.
Thomas yanked the arrow from the boar, its rune glowing faintly for a moment before sputtering out. He inspected it with a frown. The glowing was a sign of the rune doing its job, but as soon as the magic stone was removed or the mana ran out, it just... died. The truth was, he still had no clue how to control his own mana. Every time he used a rune, it felt like the magic stone was doing all the work. Without it, his runes were little more than fancy drawings.
“Eh, I’ll figure it out later,” he muttered, pocketing the magic stone. One thing at a time, Thomas, he thought. At least the runes on his body, the ones hidden beneath his noble outfit, were humming quietly with power, ready if he needed a boost in strength or speed. That gave him some confidence.
With the boar slung over his shoulder, Thomas retraced his steps, following the knife marks he’d carved into the trees. The weight of the boar was no joke, and by the time he finally found the dirt path again, his arms and back were screaming for mercy. Still, he pushed on, determined to make it to town and trade this beast for something more useful.
After what felt like an eternity of trudging through the woods, the trees finally thinned, and a clearing came into view. Thomas could see it up ahead—a stone-walled structure with gates and armed guards patrolling at the entrance. It had to be the town. The walls were solid, weathered by time, but still standing tall. The guards, though distant, looked alert.
Thomas smirked to himself. Definitely a better first impression than yesterday, he thought, remembering his embarrassing, leaf-clad fiasco. Now, he looked the part of a noble—well-dressed, carrying a boar on his back like a seasoned hunter. The guards would see him coming, and this time, they wouldn’t ignore him.
As he approached the gates, his thoughts wandered to the next step. He had to be careful. Walking into a new town without knowing the rules was always risky, especially since he had no idea what the locals valued or feared. The last thing he wanted was to flash magic runes and get himself thrown into some dungeon.
Keep it simple, he reminded himself. Sell the boar, gather some intel, buy a better bow, and maybe—just maybe—figure out how the hell to control his own mana without needing these magic stones. He adjusted his grip on the boar, feeling the weight of it shift.
“Alright, showtime,” he muttered under his breath, making his way toward the gates, ready to see what the town had in store for him.