Alan felt his feet sink into a patch of moss sitting just above the blades of grass. A soothing warmth traveled from the mana core in his solar plexus, down to his hips, through his thighs, and finally his heels. Bending his knees at a nearly ninety-degree angle, Alan entered a squatting position and then jumped. The moss and dirt beneath him scattered from the force, and Alan’s rough black hair flew back. Slipping through the canopy, he slowed to a stop a few feet above it, quickly spinning around, searching for a nearby town,

“There you are,” Alan’s eyes locked onto buildings poking just above the forest line. Noting the direction in his mind, his body fell, the soil cushioning his legs as he landed with a thump,

“I could probably go up two or three more mana core grades if I just focused on that right now…but that would take almost a week and I need answers first.” Alan’s face turned serious as his body disappeared, and gusts of wind shot throughout the surrounding area. The forest floor blurred as a form flickered in the trees, jumping from one to another as Alan rushed to the nearest town, passing any goblins he noticed below,

“I can easily rack up more souls just by killing stronger monsters…these guys aren’t worth it,” Alan mumbled, curiosity bubbling within as he wondered how different civilization was in whatever time he was thrown into.

Within a few minutes, Alan’s enhanced vision picked up on a small dirt path nestled gently in the foliage. It was nothing special, worn out and barely large enough to fit one carriage, but its direction was clear.

Perfect, Alan thought, maneuvering gently, his feet releasing less noise than a falling leaf as he jumped from one tree branch to another. With a clack, a small plume of dust hugged Alan’s ankles, before letting go and falling back to the path,

“One thing for sure, I’m in the outskirts,” Alan’s eyes scanned the road, and a touch of sadness lined his next words as memories of his first two regressions played in his mind, “I feel bad for the adventurers and merchants…riding on this is probably worse than fighting a horde of monsters.” He lifted his leg, and let the end of his foot trace the ground. It was bumpy. A carriage in Alan’s time would completely fall apart by the time it reached town. Alan sighed, looking at the weeds that littered the road, “I guess monsters aren’t a problem around here,” he looked away, slowing down his pace to a light stroll as he figured he was close.

“That sure is something,” Alan murmured, an interesting sight coming into view. Standing proudly above the canopy of trees, a powerful stone wall encircled the entire village. Watch towers stood even higher on the wall, with two guards each looking out into the forest. Other guards could be seen with spears, walking behind the teeth-like merlon, “For a village in the outskirts, this is impressive.” Alan’s eyes moved from the top of the wall, toward the end of the shabby dirt road. A massive wooden door reinforced with iron was lodged in the wall, only slightly open, just enough for a person to walk through. Two menacing guards clad in full plate armor stood on either side, hands firmly on the hilt of a sword sheathed on their hips, ready to draw it in an instant. Alan could feel their intense gaze on him the moment he stepped into view.

“State your business,” One of the guards yelled out, a frown visible on his face even through his helmet.

“I’m an adventurer,” Alan said, reaching into his pocket, “My party tried to complete this quest, but…” Alan handed the guard the worn piece of paper he discovered on one of the bodies, faking a saddened expression. He began to force shaking legs, and a solitary tear ran down his cheek, splattering onto the dirt before being absorbed by it. The guard unraveled the paper, reading it, and examining the stamp of authenticity, “I didn’t recognize you from that group of newbies,” the guard sighed, “I’m sorry about what happened.” He reached into his armor, pulling out a silver coin before flicking it, “Take this.” The guards relaxed, hands dropping to either side, their posture straightening.

Alan’s lip quivered, “Thank…you.” He gripped onto the silver coin, another tear falling to the dirt.

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“My brother was just like you. He had such a strong vision of grandeur. He imagined becoming a powerful adventurer, swimming in riches, and helping us out of this town. He went on a dangerous quest and was the only one who came back. He locked himself in his room for months, and eventually…you know.” The guard looked down, another sigh escaping his lips, “Just don’t go down that same path. I’m sure it wasn’t your fault. Adventuring isn’t for everyone. Try something else, and don’t just lock yourself away in your own sorrows.” He looked up, smiling, “Go on. And if you ever decide on becoming a guard, I’ll put a good word into our commander.” A firm hand landed on Alan’s shoulder, another holding up the quest paper.

“Okay,” Alan nodded, grabbing the shabby thing, forcing another tear, and stumbling away. Squeezing through the massive door, he turned around, watching as the guard’s returned to their duty.

“I thought that guy wouldn’t stop,” Alan’s demeanor changed completely. He wiped away the residuals of his fake tears, and all the shaking in his body stopped, “At least he was nice,” A grin appeared on Alan’s face as he flipped the silver coin before sliding it into the coin pouch attached to his hip,

“Now, I’m excited to see how different the world is,” Alan said, shoving the quest paper in a pocket, his eyes excitedly darting around, not knowing where to look first.

The streets were filled with people of all shapes and sizes. Some roamed from stall to stall, some buying unique foods that emitted a savory aroma, others buying wood or even burly-looking men browsing weapons. Others seemed to be on a stroll, talking to one another, smiles present on most faces. The various smells of food stalls attracted Alan’s attention, and his feet seemed to move on their own across the nicely paved stone road, carrying him to one of the more shabby, yet pleasant stalls.

“What can I get for you,” A middle-aged man with a missing right eye, and short black hair complimented by a perfectly shaven beard of the same color blurted out. His yellow teeth showed, and Alan noticed he wore ragged clothes with a stained apron.

“Aaahh,” Alan mumbled, hand cupping his chin as he scanned the food lying straight on a metal tray just above a wooden table. Heat emanated from the kebabs, and a wonderful smell danced in Alan’s nose. Dozens of kebabs, each with slight variations, gave off a similar aroma, oil seeping out, as Alan’s mouth began to water.

“I’ll take these two,” Without noticing, a smile appeared on Alan’s face, as he pointed to the two kebabs he thought looked the most delicious.

“That’ll be two copper coins,” The man lifted a calloused hand, palm facing the sky. Alan, unable to contain his hunger, shoved his hand into the pouch attached to his hip, drawing two copper coins, and dropping them into the man's open palm, “Thank you,” A grumble escaped him as he slid the copper into his apron. Slowly, his hands reached for the kebabs, lifting them with a surprising gentleness, “I hope you enjoy!” An unexpectedly warm smile appeared amidst the man’s rough features.

“I will,” Alan ripped the succulent food from the man's hands, taking a bite before he realized what happened. Alan nearly sank to his knees as warmth spread throughout his body. His tastebuds danced on his tongue, and he took another bite. Another followed, and then another, until one kebab was gone.

“You inhaled that,” the man laughed, “I’m happy you like it.” Ignoring the distraction, Alan finished the second faster than the first, his mouth alight with flavor,

“This food is heavenly,” Alan chuckled, “In my time I never had anything close to this.” A visible look of confusion shattered the man’s smile, “Thank you, sir!” Alan bowed, dropping the two kebab sticks in what looked to be a nearby trash can, continuing his scan of the town. The buildings had a similar architecture to what Alan was familiar with, but they looked more refined, and well-built. The clothes worn by the people of the town also seemed cleaner and made of a higher quality,

“Interesting,” Alan said, “Should I just ask someone what year it-,” He stopped, his eyes drawn to something unusual. Hundreds of posters were attached to almost every building, like a weird wallpaper. A few of these posters caught Alan’s attention when he first traversed through the door, but they were in such small amounts he didn’t think anything of it. But now, this was just absurd.

A few groups of people huddled around the posters, their chatter melding into incomprehensible mumbles and gasps. Alan could not hold back his curiosity, and walked over to an area of poster’s not surrounded by distressed townspeople. He arrived speedily, ripping off one of the poorly glued posters, and reading the headline written in large bold letters.

Founder of the Adventurers Guild, Eimmar Zomme, executed at 846 years old for colluding with demons.

“What…”