John closed the door to his room, the wooden latch clicking into place. He let out a long breath, leaning back against the door for a moment before crossing the small space to the simple bed. His body ached from the day’s battles, but it was the heaviness in his chest that weighed on him the most.

He dropped his gear onto the floor—his knife, his shirt stiff with dried sweat and goblin blood. Sitting on the edge of the bed, John rubbed his face with both hands, as if trying to scrub away the images burned into his mind.

The goblins hadn’t vanished.

He glanced at his knife, the blade still as dark and sharp as ever, and thought back to the field just outside the forest. The goblin bodies were still there, twisted and lifeless. The blood that stained his hands wasn’t some imaginary effect or virtual texture. It was sticky and real.

Kaia had explained it earlier when he’d asked, her voice calm and understanding, but distant. “Your adventurer’s looting ability works on creatures of lesser complexity—things like wolves, rats, and slimes. They dissolve because they’re more... elemental. Goblins, or anything with intelligence, don’t work that way. They’re more real.”

More real.

John chuckled bitterly to himself, shaking his head. He’d nodded along, pretending to understand at the time, but the words lingered now, gnawing at him.

“I always thought I’d be fine with this,” he muttered to the empty room.

He’d read so many books, and played countless games. He knew what it was like for those heroes—how they wrestled with morality, with the weight of taking lives, even in the name of survival. But sitting here now, he realized something none of those stories could truly prepare him for: the permanence of it. He didn't want to be a main character whining about moral dilemmas all day. He wanted to be a badass swashbuckling rogue.

In the games, in the stories, it was easy to compartmentalize. Goblins were NPCs, just obstacles. Kill one, and it vanishes, leaving behind loot or experience points. But in this world, they didn’t just disappear. Their bodies stayed, broken and still, a grim reminder of what he’d done.

And the goblins weren’t the only ones who felt real. Thorin’s gruff laugh, Kaia’s kind smiles—they weren’t just characters in some narrative. They were people. Real, living, breathing people.

So were the goblins until he killed them.

John clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. He thought of Sarah, Rosie, and Sander. His family was waiting for him—or at least, he hoped they were.

He stared at his hands, the memory of the goblins’ blood vivid in his mind. “This won’t be the last time,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know that.”

If he wanted to get home and see his family again, he couldn’t afford to hesitate. This wasn’t a game. This wasn’t some heroic story. It was his life now, and the stakes were higher than anything he’d ever imagined.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he said firmly, his jaw tightening. “Nothing will stop me.”

The words echoed in the quiet room, heavy and final.

After a moment, he fell onto the bed, pulling the blanket over himself. He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling as exhaustion pulled at him. His thoughts swirled, filled with faces—Sarah’s smile, Rosie’s laugh, Sander’s teen angst. And then, the lifeless gazes of the goblins.

It took a long time for sleep to come.

***

The sunlight filtered through the thin curtains of John’s room at the inn, rousing him from restless sleep. He groaned, sitting up and rubbing his face. His body still ached from the previous day’s exertion, though Kaia’s healing magic had patched up the worst of it.

After taking a moment to collect himself, he dressed and headed downstairs to meet Kaia and Thorin. They were already waiting in the common area.

“Morning,” John said, yawning as he dropped into a chair.

“Good morning,” Kaia replied brightly. “You’re up earlier than I expected.”

“No rest for the wicked,” John grumbled, stretching his arms. “Fought goblins, saved the day, and still no level. I thought grinding was supposed to pay off.”

Thorin chuckled. “You’ll get there. These things take time—more time than most adventurers think.”

Kaia gave him a reassuring smile. “You did well yesterday, John. The way you flanked that goblin to protect me? That was quick thinking.”

John shrugged, though her praise warmed him more than he cared to admit. “Just doing my part. Still feels like the world’s got me stuck in tutorial mode.”

Thorin smirked. “Patience, friend. You’ve got potential—it just needs time to grow.”

As they were standing up to leave, a villager approached their table, an older man with a weathered face and a curious look in his eyes. He paused, staring at John.

“Do I know you?” the man asked, tilting his head.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

John froze for a split second before shaking his head with a practiced grin. “I get that a lot. Guess I’ve got one of those faces.”

The man nodded slowly, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t press further. He muttered a polite farewell and walked off.

Kaia raised an eyebrow. “That happen often?”

“More than you’d think,” John replied, taking a sip of water. “Guess I remind people of someone. Anyway, what’s the plan for today?”

Kaia leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Before we head out, we thought it might be good to show you more of the town. Bjornfell’s got some useful resources, and you might want to think about picking up a craft profession.”

“A craft?” John asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Most rogues take up leatherworking,” Kaia explained. “It’s practical, and you’ll always have something useful to make. Crafting helps with growth too—it’s not just about fighting.”

Thorin nodded. “I’ve done a bit of smithing myself. Comes in handy for maintaining gear.”

Kaia smiled. “And I’m a trained herbalist. My mother taught me everything I know before I joined the temple. It’s saved us more times than I can count.”

John tapped his fingers on the table, considering. “Leatherworking, huh? Could be worth looking into. Not like I’ve got much else to do when we’re not fighting.”

“It’s more than worth it,” Kaia said. “You’d be surprised how much it helps, especially with making your own gear .”

“Fair point,” John said. “I’ll think about it.”

Before they left the inn, John asked one more question. “By the way, you’ve mentioned the gods before, but I only know that dick that bright me here. I haven't gotten the full rundown. Who’s who?”

Kaia and Thorin exchanged a glance, and Kaia took the lead. “There are twelve major gods in our pantheon, evenly divided between male and female. Each one oversees a specific domain. You’ve got Akron, the God of War, and Amara, the Goddess of Love. Then there’s Caelix—Trickery—and Morvrath, Death. Nerion rules the Seas, while Seraphis is the Goddess of Healing. Elynor oversees the Forests, Persephone governs Knowledge, Feradyn the Harvest, Brandir Fire, Aequina Justice, and Sylvara Animals.”

“That’s a lot of names,” John said, blinking.

Kaia laughed softly. “You’ll get used to them. They’re not as distant as you might think—gods in this world are very… involved.”

John smirked. “Involved like plucking people from other worlds? I’ll keep an eye out for divine meddling.”

With that, the trio left the inn, stepping into the bustling streets of Bjornfell. John found himself marveling at the village’s liveliness despite its rugged charm. They passed vendors selling everything from baked goods to tools, children chasing each other in the muddy streets, and villagers tending to their daily tasks.

“Let’s start with some food,” Thorin suggested, leading the way toward a stall with sizzling skewers of meat.

John followed, his mind buzzing with the day’s possibilities. He wasn’t sure what he’d uncover about the tournament or the town, but one thing was certain—his journey was just getting started.

***

Bjornfell’s streets were alive with the bustle of villagers, the crisp mountain air carrying the scent of roasting meat and fresh bread. John’s stomach growled as he wandered past a vendor flipping skewers over an open flame.

He stopped, eyeing the sizzling meat. “I can’t resist. This smells way too good.”

“You’re should be saving your coin for gear,” Kaia warned from behind him.

“Kaia, I’m practically on vacation. New world, new flavors. I always try the local cuisine when I travel.” John handed a few copper coins to the vendor then added " besides I literally get money magically drop out of animal bodies"

Kaia shrugged nodding her head.

The vendor grinned, handing him a skewer loaded with seasoned boar meat. John took a bite, his eyes widening. “Oh, this is incredible. It’s like… smoky bacon wrapped around steak.”

Thorin, chewing on his own skewer, smirked. “Good, right? Bjornfell’s known for its hunters. Fresh game every day.”

John wiped his mouth and nodded toward another stall, where a woman was ladling out thick stew into wooden bowls. “What’s that?”

“Mountain hare stew,” Kaia said. “It’ll warm you up faster than any fire.”

John didn’t need more convincing. A few minutes later, he was balancing a steaming bowl of stew while gnawing on the remainder of his skewer.

“I could get used to this,” he mumbled between bites.

Kaia watched him with a shake of her head but smiled faintly. “You act like you’re at a festival.”

John shrugged. “Why not? If I’m stuck here, I might as well enjoy the perks.”

As they made their way toward the village square, John stopped to chat with one of the stew vendors, a burly man with a thick beard and flour-dusted apron.

“Busy out today,” John said, gesturing to the crowd.

“First thaw of spring always brings folks out,” the vendor replied. “Good time for trade. You’re new, yeah? Came from the South by the looks of you”

John nodded. “You can take the boy out the South but you can't take the South out the boy”

The vendor chuckled. “We don’t get many strangers. Not since the last tournament at least. That had a lot of travelers coming through.”

John perked up at that. “The tournament? I heard rumors about a big contest. What do you know?”

The vendor leaned on his counter. “Last one was several years ago. Lotta folk came from all over. Not sure when the next one is or where. It's every ten years though so can't be long off.”

“Thanks that's a starting point.” John filed that away."

“Your very welcome I hope you find what you looking for”

Before John could say any more, an older woman nearby squinted at him. She approached, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Oi, you!” she called.

John blinked and glanced behind him. “Me?”

She nodded, studying his face closely. “You look just like Orin Blackthorn. By the gods, I thought you were him for a second.”

“Uh, I’m guessing that’s not me,” John replied with an awkward smile. “But he must be a handsome devil.”

Kaia snorted.

John tightened his grip on the skewer. “Then we’re definitely getting to the bottom of this."

***

John popped the last bite of a roasted meat skewer into his mouth as they made their way through Bjornfell’s winding streets. The morning had quickly turned into an improvised food tour, with John sampling everything from savory hand pies to candied nuts.

“This place might be a backwater, but they know their way around a spit roast,” John said, licking his fingers.

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” Kaia said with a smirk. “But we should focus on gathering information now. The tournament won’t wait forever.”

“Fine, fine,” John replied, rolling his eyes. “But if we pass another stall selling those sweet rolls, I’m stopping again. No negotiation.”

They began visiting shops, starting with a weaponsmith. The burly man behind the counter glared at them as they approached.

"Can I help you? The man said.

Kaia began to open her mouth when John shit eating grin plastered on his face said " Top of the morning good sir we're looking for some information "

The weaponsmith starteed at John with a disinterested face

"I deal on weapons not info"

John's face reflected the desire to choke this man to death. He really hated smug bastards.

"Have you sold any weapons to people going to any tournaments?" John said with annoyance clear in his voice.

The man shrugged turning and walking away. John lunged after the man large mad reaching for him only for Thorins strong hands to restrain him at the last moment.

"Let's go John he doesn't know or won't say" Thorin said.

John stood up and straightened his Hawaiian shirt. As Thorin and Kaia turned to go John opened his hand and counted the 3 gold coins pick pocketed from that asshole. Smiling he followed his friends.

Their next stop was an apothecary, where Kaia and the shopkeeper exchanged herbalist tips while John poked around. His eyes lit up when he spotted a jar labeled Pixie Dust, but Kaia dragged him away before he could investigate further.

As they left, Thorin spoke up. “Did you hear what she said about a dungeon nearby?”

Kaia frowned. “I heard. Apparently, some adventurers—back when we had them—explored it years ago. But no one’s been there since.”

“Dungeon crawling,” John muttered. “Classic.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Kaia warned. “Dungeons are dangerous. We’d need to prepare.”

They continued their circuit through the town, stopping at a blacksmith, a general store, and even a bookseller. The general consensus was that the tournament was happening in the next few years, but no one could agree on when or where it would be held.

At one point, they overheard two villagers whispering about a thieves’ den hidden in town. John’s ears perked up, but when he tried to press them for details, they clammed up.

“Thieves’ den, huh?” John said as they walked away. “Sounds like trouble.”

“Sounds like your kind of people,” Kaia teased.

“I resent that,” John replied with mock indignation. I'm a dashing adventurer"

“Barely,” Thorin said with a grin.

Their banter carried them to a tailor’s shop, where John insisted on going in alone. He emerged ten minutes later with a huge grin on his face.

“What’s got you so pleased?” Kaia asked.

John waved her off. “I’ll explain later. Let’s just say I met a delightful man also named John who looked exactly like that dude from Miami Vice.”

Kaia and Thorin stared at him, baffled.

“Never mind,” John said, chuckling. “You’d have to be there. Anyway, where to next?”

They moved on, stopping at a few more shops and chatting with villagers. Most conversations were unproductive, but John didn’t mind. He soaked in the sights, sounds, and smells of Bjornfell, marveling at the little details that made the town feel alive.

By midday, they’d gathered enough to piece together a loose plan. The tournament was likely years away, and they’d need to travel to Goldspire to learn more. But the dungeon rumors and whispers of the thieves’ den offered immediate opportunities.

The day wasn’t over, but John felt like he was finally getting the hang of things.