The darkness was a living entity, a palpable shroud that clung to the landscape like a mourner's veil. Only the sound of a grumbling engine, an alluring serenade through the empty night. Thorin Blackwood, a weathered roughneck with a face beginning to show the lines of time and experience, steered, his old ford, through the black void with the confidence of routine. The headlights cast an otherworldly glow, cutting through the darkness like the cold, unforgiving kiss of a winter's breeze.
As the ford rounded a sharp bend onto a crumbling county road, the tires shrieked in protest, the sound piercing the night like a cry of anguish. The old truck had always been a bit temperamental, but Thorin had learned its idiosyncrasies, to anticipate every quirk and hiccup. This was different. The road seemed to writhe beneath the wheels like a serpent, as if reality was unraveling, revealing an abyssal chasm beneath.
All four tires skidded, the truck careening out of control like a spooked horse, heading straight for the dark, yawning maw of a thicket. Thorin's heart was, frozen in his chest, as he felt the weight of fate crashing down upon him. The world narrowed to a singular point, a pinpoint of terror, and then...
It vanished.
It simply... vanished.
One moment Thorin was white knuckling the steering wheel, the next he was hurtling through a whirlwind of colors and lights that defied comprehension, a vortex of chaos that threatened to consume him whole. The truck's interior was a maelstrom of sound and fury, the fords metal body screaming in protest as if it were a living, tortured creature.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the vortex dissipated, leaving Thorin disoriented and stunned, his mind reeling like a ship lost at sea. The engine was dead, the body twisted, scarred, and smeared with the dark, mysterious residue of the unknown.
As Thorin stumbled out of the driver's seat, his legs trembling beneath him, he gazed out into the night, and his heart froze. Everything was... different. The stars shone with an otherworldly intensity, their light blazing like a thousand tiny suns. The air was charged with electricity, an almost palpable energy that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, like a thousand tiny fingers tracing the curve of his spine.
A shiver coursed through Thorin's very being as he realized that he had fallen through a doorway to the unknown. The world had shifted, tilted, and he was left standing on the precipice of a new, uncharted landscape, staring into the landscape with a mix of awe and terror.
And then everything went white...
...
...
Thorin blinks, disoriented. The endless white space around him is eerily silent, save for the quiet hum of a system initializing in his mind. Words appear, floating in his vision.
Working...
Extemporal entity detected...
Scaning...
System integration in process...
Working...
Status.
Name: Thorin Blackwood
Race: Human
Constitution: 2
Mana: Unknown
Strength: 3
Dexterity: 2
Agility: 2
Stamina: 2
Intelligence: 3
[Traits]
Auto Regenerate (Passive): Slowly heals over time to preexisting condition, faster if resting may affect aging.
Increased Skills Learning (Active): Gains skills and abilities faster than normal.
End of Status.
The white void pulses, and a voice fills his mind, seeming both distant and present at once.
System:
Welcome, Thorin Blackwood. You have been initialized into the Universal system.
Would You like to change your name [Y / N]
Note name change only available at integration stage.
Thorin shakes his head, trying to process the bizarre situation. He reaches out to touch his face, expecting something familiar but only feeling cold, smooth skin. Nothing feels wrong in his body… but everything feels off about the world around him.
Thorin:
"What the hell is going on? Where am I? Who... or what are you?"
The voice is silent for a moment before the prompt renews before him.
Would You like to change your name [Y / N]
Thorin's thoughts race, trying to make sense of the situation. Is this some kind of simulation? Is he dreaming? But the HUD... the system... it feels too real to just be a dream
"No" he responds with resignation.
He turns to look at his pickup.
Thorin steps cautiously toward the wrecked truck, its form battered and immobile in the white space. The engine’s hood is open, but everything inside looks... useless. Pieces of the engine are scattered, wires disconnected.
Thorin (thinking):
“This thing’s done for. No way this will ever start again. But…”
He kneels beside the truck and inspects it with meticulous attention, his hands turning the broken components. After a few moments of careful examination, something strange happens. A glowing prompt appears in his vision.
[Skill Gained: Appraise]
You have gained the ability to evaluate and inspect objects or entities, revealing details about their condition and possible uses.
Thorin blinks in surprise, unsure of how to process this. A voice in his head echoes softly:
System:
Skill acquired: Appraise. You can now assess the value, condition, and potential functionality of objects and entities. Use this to your advantage.
Thorin stands, his hands still resting on the hood, trying to absorb the weight of what just happened. He leans in further, inspecting the engine area, hoping to find some clue about his surroundings, some key to understanding what’s happened to him. That’s when he spots something unusual.
A faded, multilanguage sticker is stuck to the inside of the hood. Some of the words in another language he knows are etched into the surface.
He pauses, his eyes narrowing. As he focuses on the sticker, something clicks inside his mind. The symbols on the sticker slowly start to make sense as his brain processes the strange text.
[Skill Gained: Polyglot]
You have gained the ability to read and speak any language after hearing just one sentence. This skill allows you to understand and communicate in any language you encounter.
Thorin’s breath catches in his chest. He can suddenly read the rest of the sticker, three languages in one place.
Thorin steps back, trying to take it all in. The strange system he’s been thrust into, his new abilities.
Thorin (muttering to himself):
"Okay… now we're talking, I can read the signs now. Let's see where this takes me."
His gaze drifts around the vast white expanse,
The white expanse around Thorin begins to slowly fade, and with it, the sterile silence of the void gives way to the sounds of rustling leaves, distant bird calls, and the soft crackling of underbrush. A cool breeze brushes against his face as the world around him becomes more vivid and alive. Thorin blinks in surprise, looking around at the sudden change in scenery.
He finds himself standing on the edge of a dense woodland. Trees stretch high into the sky, their branches thick with leaves, casting long shadows on the forest floor. The ground is soft with moss and fallen leaves, and the air smells fresh with the scent of pine and earth.
Uncertain but cautious, Thorin looks back at the truck, now almost completely enveloped by the foliage, and spots the tire iron still wedged near the wheel well. He grabs it with firm hands, its cold, metal surface offering some semblance of comfort in the strange environment. The sense of isolation and confusion is still overwhelming, but he’s not helpless.
He uses his newly acquired Appraise skill on the tire iron.
[Tire Iron]
Item: Tire Iron
Type: Blunt Weapon
Durability: 100%
Damage: 5-10 Blunt Damage
Special: Can be used as a tool in mechanical repairs or to pry open objects, but not into other people's affairs...
Thorin nods, satisfied. The tire iron is a solid weapon, though not ideal for combat against creatures or anything too dangerous. Still, it would do for now though he wonders about that last part. He tucks it into his hand and looks around for anything else of use.
His eyes fall on his work jacket, still draped over the truck's seat. He quickly retrieves it, sliding his arms into the sleeves. The fabric feels a bit out of place in this wild forest, but it's better than nothing. He Appraises it as well.
[Work Jacket]
Item: Work Jacket
Type: Armor
Durability: 85%
Defense: +5 to Physical Defense
Special: Provides protection from minor slashing and abrasions. Suitable for casual labor environments.
Thorin feels a slight boost in confidence as he adjusts the jacket around his shoulders. It's not much in the way of armor, but it's something. With the tire iron in one hand and his jacket now covering his torso, he feels slightly more prepared for whatever this strange world might throw at him.
He takes a moment to orient himself in the woodland, taking a mental note of the direction, he's facing. The forest stretches in every direction, but there's a faint trail cutting through the trees to the north. It's not much, but it's something—maybe people, maybe answers, maybe danger.
Thorin (thinking):
"Alright, no sense standing around. If there’s anyone out here, I need to find them. And if there’s not… I guess I'll just have to find a way to survive until I can figure this mess out."
He sets off toward the trail, each step feeling heavier as the unknown looms larger with every step. His new skills, though helpful, are still a mystery to him, and he’s uncertain whether he can trust the strange system or if it’s playing a part in his disorientation.
As he walks, the sounds of the forest seem to shift, the birds chirping growing quieter, the wind brushing against the trees more pronounced. It feels like he's being watched... or perhaps just paranoid. The trail ahead bends slightly, disappearing into the shadows of the thick trees.
Thorin pushes through the dense underbrush, his mind racing as he takes in the unfamiliar forest. The sounds of nature seem peaceful, but there’s an unsettling feeling beneath it all like he's not alone, like the forest is watching. After a while, he hears something rustling in the bushes ahead, too quiet to be a person. Thorin hesitates but continues forward, determined to find some sign of life or answers.
Out of the foliage darts a small, furry creature, a squirrel no bigger than a rabbit, but its eyes gleam with an unnerving intelligence. It looks harmless at first—almost cute—until it lunges at him, its sharp claws extended.
Thorin stumbles back in shock as the squirrel sinks its claws into his jacket, scraping across his arm. He swipes at it with the tire iron, but it’s fast darting away before his swing can land. He curses under his breath, stepping back cautiously as the creature barks and circles him, its small body bristling with aggression.
He Appraises the squirrel out of instinct, trying to understand what he’s dealing with.
[Small Woodland squirrel]
Type: Common
Health: 50/50
Attack: 10-12 (Claw Attack)
Defense: 8
Special: Agile, quick strike. Can summon allies.
The heinous squirrel is faster than Thorin anticipated, darting in and out of his reach, swiping at him with claws that find places not covered by the fabric of his jacket. He tries to land a solid hit with the tire iron, but it’s like fighting a shadow every time he thinks he has it, it evades him.
After a few more exchanges, Thorin realizes he's losing the fight. The creature's speed is overwhelming, and his own stamina is being drained faster than he expected. He grits his teeth and decides to go on the defensive, trying to back away.
But as he stumbles backward, another rustling sound erupts from the undergrowth, and Thorin freezes in horror. Out of the trees emerge more squirrels at least three more, their eyes glowing in the shadows, their bodies sleek and dangerous.
Thorin's heart races, his predicament just went from bad to worse and he can't take them all on. Not like this.
Thorin (thinking):
Okay, this is bad. Way worse than I thought. I can't keep fighting. I need to get out of here.”
The creatures close in, their tiny, sharp claws clicking against the earth. They move with unsettling coordination, and Thorin realizes that they've already surrounded him. He grips the tire iron tighter, but his mind is already working out his options. There's no way he can win this. Not without more time, more experience... maybe more weapons.
Without warning, Thorin bolts, pushing his legs to their limit as he sprints through the dense woods. The creatures screech and hiss, giving chase, but Thorin knows his only chance is to outrun them. He crashes through the underbrush, ignoring the branches that whip at his face, the ground beneath him uneven and treacherous.
His heart pounds in his chest as he hears the creatures still behind him. The sound of their claws skittering across the ground grows fainter as he pushes forward, adrenaline coursing through him. He doesn't dare look back, not yet. If he stops, or slows, they will get him.
After what feels like an eternity, he finally hears the creatures’ sounds die away. His breath is ragged, his legs burning with exhaustion. He stumbles into a small clearing, the forest quiet now except for the pounding of his own heartbeat.
Thorin falls to his knees, gasping for air. His jacket is torn in places, and he's got a few cuts on his arms from the creature's claws. But he's alive.
Thorin (breathing heavily):
"That was too close... Too damn close."
His hands shake as he holds the tire iron, realizing just how unprepared he truly is for whatever dangers lurk in this strange world. He's learned one valuable lesson: never mess with the squirrels...
Thorin sits on the edge of a clearing, his back against a sturdy tree, taking slow, measured breaths to calm his racing heart. His jacket is still torn in places, but he’s healing, slowly regaining his strength as the effects of his Auto Regenerate trait kick in. His wounds, while not serious, sting with every movement, but they’re already starting to fade, leaving only the faintest of scars.
Looking up at the sky, the sun is starting its descent, but it's hard to judge how much time he has before it’s fully dark. The eerie silence of the forest has returned, and the distant sound of rustling leaves is the only sign of life—besides him.
Thorin (thinking):
"Night's coming fast. And I’ve got no idea what else roams these woods... probably worse than those squirrels. A fire’s probably my best bet for keeping something from creeping up on me."
With a grimace, he stands and scans the area, searching for dry wood and kindling. The forest floor is littered with fallen branches, some too large to use, others broken and dry enough to catch flame. He picks up a few, testing their weight and dryness with his hands, and then begins collecting them in a small pile. The forest’s odd quietness is both peaceful and ominous, as though everything around him is waiting.
Thorin’s mind is racing. He’s learned a few things already—like how quickly the world can turn dangerous, and how essential it is to be prepared. With his new skills, the chances are better, but he knows he needs more if he’s going to survive in this strange realm.
He works efficiently, piling up the wood in a circle to keep it contained and ready for a fire. Once that’s done, he starts to gather small twigs and dry leaves, stacking them in the center of the pile. Then, he pauses, looking around for something to start the fire with—rocks, flint, anything that could help spark a flame.
He appraises a few nearby rocks, hoping to find some kind of natural flint, but it’s no use. He doesn’t have the right tools for a proper spark.
[Appraise: Rock]
Item: Rock
Type: Natural Material
Durability: 100%
Special: Can be used as a blunt weapon or to aid in crafting tools.
The rock is useful for defensive purposes, but not for starting a fire. Thorin grits his teeth, frustrated, but then he notices something on the ground—a small, dry stick, likely from a nearby tree. He picks it up and, on a whim, Appraises it.
[Appraise: Stick]
Item: Stick
Type: Natural Material
Durability: 100%
Special: Can be used to create a fire through friction or as a tool.
There’s a flicker of hope as Thorin realizes that, with the right technique, he can use the stick to start a fire. A moment of pride passes through him; the skills in this system might not be perfect, but they are practical.
He kneels down next to the fire pit he’s created and begins rubbing the stick against a small pile of dry leaves, pressing it quickly back and forth to create friction. Sweat beads on his forehead as the effort strains his muscles, but soon enough, it begins to smoke, the first sign of success. He keeps going, determined not to fail.
Soon a small flame catches on the dry leaves, and soon the fire grows, crackling and snapping as it consumes the kindling. Thorin breathes a sigh of relief, watching the flames flicker in the growing darkness. The warmth feels good, almost like a barrier between him and the unknown.
Thorin (thinking):
"Okay, fire’s set. Now... I just need to keep it going until morning."
He sits back on a nearby log, the tire iron still in his hand, his senses alert. The fire flickers and dances, casting long shadows in the surrounding trees. Somewhere in the distance, he hears a howl—a deep, eerie sound that sends a chill down his spine.
Thorin (thinking):
"Yeah… this fire is just in time."
As the night deepens, Thorin watches the flames, listening to the strange noises of the forest around him. His mind races with questions. Where is he? What kind of place is this? And—more urgently—what else might be out there in the darkness?
Thorin’s eyes flicker toward the fire as the flames dance in the growing darkness. The warmth is comforting, but he knows it’s also his best defense against whatever lurks in the shadows of the forest. His muscles ache from the strain of his earlier sprint, but he forces himself to stand, grabbing more dry wood and feeding it into the fire. The flames crackle and pop as they greedily consume the new fuel.
Each time he adds more wood, the fire grows, casting long shadows around him. The forest seems to retreat in response, and the wind whispers through the trees. Thorin can’t shake the feeling that he’s being watched, and that the creatures in this world are more dangerous—than he can anticipate.
The howl he heard earlier echoes again, closer this time, a deep, rumbling sound that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
His hand grips the tire iron tighter.
Thorin (thinking): “Gotta keep the fire burning. Don’t let it go out. No telling what’s out there.”
He’s learned one painful lesson today: don’t underestimate the dangers, no matter how small or innocent they appear.
The squirrels were bad enough, but they were just a small taste of what’s in this forest. Thorin doesn’t know if the creatures he faces are natural, or something else but he can’t rest, not yet.
He stands by the fire, adding more wood as the night drags on. The fire’s warmth is comforting, but it also serves as a reminder of how fragile his survival is. The constant crackling of the fire is only broken by the occasional rustle of leaves or distant animal cry. Every sound sets his nerves on edge, but he stays vigilant, only allowing himself the briefest moments to close his eyes and rest, knowing full well he can’t afford to fall asleep.
Hours stretch on, he can’t tell how much time has passed, but it feels like an eternity. The forests darkened shape constantly changing in the shadows of the firelight. Thorin continues to feed the fire, fatigue is starting to take its toll, but he knows he can’t let it go out.
At one point, he hears something moving nearby. It’s not the usual sounds of the forest—this is heavier, more deliberate. Thorin’s grip tightens on the tire iron, and he prepares himself for whatever’s about to emerge from the darkness. His heart races in his chest, and he stands perfectly still, eyes fixed on the space just beyond the reach of the fire’s glow.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, the sound stops. Thorin’s breath catches in his throat, and he scans the area. Nothing. No movement. Only the crackling of the fire and the gentle wind.
Thorin (thinking):
“Probably just the wind... or something small. Doesn’t matter. I’ve got to keep my guard up.”
The fire is his lifeline. It’s the only thing between him and the darkness.
He’s got his tire iron; it’s not the best weapon. Maybe he can do more.
With a grunt, Thorin looks around the clearing. The forest offers little in the way of tools, but the abundance of branches catches his attention. He scans the ground for a suitable piece—something long, sturdy, and thick enough to be useful. After a few moments, he finds it: a slightly straight branch, thick enough for his purpose.
He picks it up and examines it, satisfied, he decides to turn it into a weapon. He kneels down by the fire, pulling a rough stone from the ground and using the jagged edges to scrape and sharpen the tip of the branch. The process is slow, his hands sore from the abuse, but after a few minutes, he’s managed to carve a crude point.
Next, he holds the sharpened tip to the fire, the warmth licking the wood as he waits for it to harden. The smell of burning wood fills the air, and Thorin keeps his eyes on the fire, making sure he doesn’t overdo it and weaken the shaft.
[Skill Acquired: Crafting: Woodworking]
Description: You have learned the basics of crafting with wood. You can now create basic wooden tools and simple items with greater efficiency and durability.
Special: Reduces the time and materials needed to craft wooden tools and items by 5%.
[Appraise: Crude Spear]
Item: Crude Spear
Type: Weapon
Durability: 65%
Damage: 4-8 Piercing Damage
Special: Poor quality, but functional. Sharpness is questionable. Great for an amateur, less effective against more resilient foes.
Thorin can't help but let out a dry laugh at the Appraise description. His first real weapon, and it’s not exactly going to win any awards for craftsmanship. Still, it’s something. Better than nothing.
Thorin (chuckling to himself):
“Yeah, well, I don’t need it to be perfect... I just need it to keep me alive.”
He tests the spear, feeling the weight of it in his hands. The tip is far from perfect, but it’s sharp enough to do some damage. The shaft, though rough and unpolished, feels sturdy enough for a quick thrust or jab if necessary.
With the spear now in his hands, Thorin feels a small sense of confidence. It’s barely passable, but it’s better than the tire iron for keeping something at a distance.
Thorin (thinking):
“Alright, this will have to do. Now, I just need to stay alert and keep that fire burning.
The night crawls on, and Thorin’s eyelids grow heavier with each passing hour. His muscles ache from the constant vigilance, and his mind flits between exhaustion and adrenaline. The fire, now reduced to a glowing pile of embers, requires constant attention—adding more wood, fanning the flames to keep them from dying down.
Thorin awoke to the crackling remnants of his fire in the early morning hours, his wounds from the squirrel fight and the jagged abrasions from the branches are already gone.
As dawn finally breaks over the horizon, the first light of day paints the sky in soft hues of pink and orange. The forest seems to wake along with it—birds chirping, leaves rustling in the gentle morning breeze.
[Skill Acquired: Vigilance]
Description: Your awareness of your surroundings has improved. You are more attuned to signs of danger or change around you, allowing you to spot things others might miss.
Special: +5% chance to detect hidden threats or important details in the environment.
With the first rays of the sun casting light over the clearing, Thorin stretches and checks his surroundings. The fire has burned down, leaving just a small pile of glowing embers, but it did its job—he survived the night. He grips his spear tightly and starts making his way toward the edge of the clearing, leaving the remnants of his fire behind.
His new Vigilance skill makes him more aware of the small details, the rustle of leaves or the pattern of animal tracks on the ground. He kneels, examining the earth closely, looking for any sign of life.
He finds several tracks—small, animal-sized prints that appear to have been left in the mud near the edge of the clearing. They seem to be heading in the direction of a small, rocky outcrop deeper into the woods. Thorin doesn’t hesitate—this could be his chance to find water, or even an animal to hunt. He follows the trail, moving cautiously and keeping his eyes peeled for anything that could be a threat.
[Skill Acquired: Tracking]
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Description: Small chance to identify tracks and direction traveled.
Thorin’s heart picks up speed as he follows the tracks. The prints lead him past dense underbrush and through a series of low shrubs. The forest is alive with morning sounds—chirping birds, rustling branches, the distant trickle of a stream, his new Vigilance skill making him even more aware of his surroundings.
As the trail winds through the forest, Thorin’s thinks of his need for water. His throat is dry, and he knows he can’t last long without drinking. The tracks seem to be leading him toward a small clearing, and as he approaches, he hears the faint sound of water trickling nearby.
Following the sound he finds a small stream, its gentle current running clear between the rocks. His thirst made itself known, and Thorin wasted no time kneeling beside the stream. He took a rough stick, digging into the soil next to the water's edge. He had heard somewhere that you could clean water by letting it soak through the earth first. He was hoping it was true.
He waited, keeping his eyes on the ground as the water slowly filtered through.
With the immediate concern progressing, Thorin turned his focus to food. The fish in the stream were his next target. He hefted his crude spear and crouched down by the water's edge, keeping still, his eyes scanning for movement.
Minutes passed, and then there it was. A fish, darting through the water. Thorin's spear shot forward, but the fish darted out of reach, evading the tip by a hair. Cursing under his breath, he sighed and stood up.
Walking over to the tree line he had gathered some more dry wood. Repeating lastnights process he started a new fire.
Once the fire was blazing again, Thorin returned to his spot by the stream. He kept his spear ready, watching intently for another fish. As time passed, he spotted one. This time, his aim was true. The fish skewered on the tip of his makeshift spear, and Thorin pulled it out of the water, grinning to himself. Finally success.
At this point the clear water started to collect in the hole he'd dug, and after a cautious sip, he felt the relief of quenching his thirst. Not bad for a first step in survival.
The fire crackled as he began to clean the fish, focusing on the task at hand. Just as he was about to start cooking, there was a rustle in the bushes. Thorin's hand instinctively went for his spear, but to his surprise, a young wyrm with two small wings a dragons head and no legs slipped out of the underbrush, its eyes glinting with mischief.
The wyrm was small, its scales shimmering in the sunlight as it cocked its head at Thorin with an air of amusement. Thorin tensed, but the creature didn't seem concerned. Instead, it flashed a toothy grin, its voice coming out in a casual drawl.
"Nice fish," the wyrm said, eyeing the meal with a critical gaze. "Or is that the best you can do? Looks like you missed your chance at something bigger. Then again, given the state of that spear, maybe I shouldn't be surprised."
Thorin narrowed his eyes, tightening his grip on the spear. "What are you? Some kind of lizard? Or just here to make fun of me?"
The wyrm chuckled, unfazed by Thorin's sharp tone. "Been watching you for a while. You're doing just enough not to die. Cute. Keep it up, and you'll make it another day. Or not. It's amusing either way."
Thorin stood still, trying to assess whether this creature was dangerous or just another annoyance. The wyrm, clearly not taking the situation seriously, stepped closer to the fire and flicked its tail nonchalantly.
"Oh, don't worry. I'm not here to help," it added, eyes glinting with amusement. "I just thought I'd see how long you last. Maybe you'll make it out of this one alive. Or not. It's funny either way."
Frustration bubbled inside Thorin. He wasn't sure whether to be irritated or intrigued by this creature. Finally, he couldn’t hold it in anymore.
"Are you going to do anything useful?" Thorin asked, his voice laced with frustration. "Or are you just going to stand there and watch me struggle?"
The wyrm snickered. "Help? Ha! No. But I'll stick around for the entertainment. It's not every day I get to see a human try to survive in this dump after pissing off the squirrels so much. Didn't anyone tell you that's second only to not getting in a land war in Asia and betting against a Sicilian when death is on the line?"
Thorin blinked, trying to make sense of the wyrm's bizarre humor. "What's that supposed to mean?"
The wyrm tilted its head and shrugged. "Squirrels. They're the worst. So, what's next, human? Gonna go after something bigger? Or are you gonna sit there and sulk?"
Thorin was growing more annoyed, but he couldn't ignore the wyrms words. "Okay, so what do you suggest I do? Just sit here with my fish and wait to die?"
The wyrm laughed again, its eyes glinting mischievously.
Vorn: "You’re not in your world anymore, human. Different world, different rules. Try not to die."
Thorin: "And you’re here to help? Out of the kindness of your lizard heart?"
Vorn: "Help? Ha! No. But watching you struggle is entertaining, and I'm not a lizard."
Thorin: "What do I do, then?"
Vorn: "Find a village. Avoid squirrels. Level up before something eats you, should be fun."
Thorin blinked, "Level up? How am I supposed to do that?"
The wyrm gave a lazy shrug. "Find a dungeon. One without squirrels. Maybe a village for supplies and gear. And don't forget level up or get eaten."
Thorin's mind raced as he tried to process the wyrm's cryptic advice. It didn't help that the wyrm seemed to be enjoying every minute of his confusion.
"Okay," Thorin said, rubbing his temples, "so... what else? Any more wisdom to drop on me?"
The wyrm, clearly in the mood to educate, began listing off things Thorin hadn't expected to hear. "The humans known as Norse and the Celts are up north, by the way. There are scattered towns with humans, elves, and dwarves. Some fiefdoms here and there. Nothing too impressive, though. You'll have to figure that out."
Thorin blinked. "Wait did you say the Celts? And Norse?"
The wyrm grinned. "Yep. The Norse. You know, those big Viking types who like to swing axes and scream at the sky. And the Celts. They've got their own thing going on. Just don't go bothering them. You'll need more than just a fish for that."
Thorin felt a strange mix of awe and confusion. "So... where am I really? What's this place?"
The wyrm flashed a sharp grin. "Not your problem right now. Right now, you need to survive. You'll figure it out."
"You might want to learn some languages too, human. It's not all common speech here." The wyrm's eyes gleamed as it prepared to show off.
"Alright, wise-ass," Thorin said, crossing his arms. "Prove it. Speak to me in all these languages you're bragging about."
The wyrm smirked and began speaking, switching languages effortlessly.
**In Norse:** "You wouldn’t even survive a squirrel army in that outfit."
**In Elvish:** "Nice try, but I’ve seen rocks with more survival instincts."
**In Draconic:** "Seriously? This is the best you can do?"
**In Celestial:** "You're hopeless. Hope you’re not relying on your brain."
**In Dwarvish:** "Did you think you'd just stumble through this? "
**In Gaelic:** "Might as well give up. You don't even know what you’re dealing with."
A notification blinked across Thorin's HUD, catching his attention.
**[Status Update: You are now fluent in the following languages:]**
*“Norse, Elvish, Draconic, Celestial, Dwarvish, and Gaelic.”*
Thorin cracked a smirk of his own. Maybe this wyrm wasn't entirely useless after all.
"Alright, that's helpful," he muttered. "Now, how do I get some coin for supplies?"
The wyrm's grin widened. "Quests, trade, or stealing. Your call. Maybe barter too. You'll figure it out. Everyone does."
-----------------------------------
Thorin sat by the fire, cleaning another fish he had caught, the warmth of the flames mingling with the satisfaction of finally having a decent meal. He glanced over at the wyrm, who seemed content just watching him, occasionally flicking its tail in the air with a lazy rhythm. The wyrm, didn’t seem to have any intention of leaving him alone.
After eating and drinking their fill, Thorin leaned back and sighed. His stomach finally felt full, and for the first time since he had woken up in this strange world, he felt like he might just survive another day.
“So, where’s the nearest tavern?” Thorin asked, wiping his hands on his pants as he glanced at Vorn. "I’m guessing there’s gotta be one if I’m supposed to do quests for hire, right?"
Vorn snorted, a small puff of smoke escaping from his nostrils. “Tavern? You’re looking for the most boring part of this world. Sure, there are a few—mostly in the villages. You’ll find one to the east, near the road. Good place for cheap jobs. But don’t get too cozy. These places are filled with drunks and drifters who think they're better than they actually are."
Thorin considered this, then took a deep breath. “Sounds like a good start. Better than wandering around here without a clue."
Vorn flicked his tail, clearly amused by Thorin’s bluntness. “I’m sure you’ll fit right in. You’re no hero material, but you’re not half-bad at getting by. You could probably almost make a living slaying rats or doing fetches.”
Thorin rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then glanced at the wyrm. “So, what’s your name, anyway? I guess I should know who I’m talking to after all this.”
Vorn tilted his head and narrowed his eyes,
“Vorn,” he said after a beat, his voice almost nonchalant.
“Vorn the young wingless wyrm, at your service. Well, not at your service, exactly, but I’m here, aren’t I? Not that you have a choice.”
Thorin stared at him, chewing on that name. “Vorn, huh?” He let the name roll around in his mind for a moment before asking the next question. “How old are you? You don’t exactly look... well, old.”
Vorn’s eyes flashed, and for the first time, Thorin noticed a slight edge to his tone. “Age is a relative concept, human. I’m... old enough to know better than to trust you and young enough to find entertainment in your misery. Does that answer your question?”
Thorin frowned, sensing that Vorn wasn’t eager to dive into his backstory. He knew when to push and when to leave well enough alone. “Fine,” he muttered.
Vorn, clearly growing bored of the conversation, suddenly hopped up and made a show of stretching his wings—only to remember there too small. Instead, he wriggled his tail dramatically, like a cat flicking its tail back and forth.
“So,” Vorn said, tail twitching in a way that made Thorin feel slightly uncomfortable, “what do you say about letting me ride on your shoulder? You know, to help you with... whatever it is you’re doing.”
Thorin blinked, surprised by the request. “Ride on my shoulder?” he repeated. “Why would you want that?”
Vorn’s grin was predatory, though his eyes sparkled with amusement. “Well, for one, you’re bigger, and I’m lazy.
But also... I’ve got something that might interest you. A little favor, in exchange.”
Thorin raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”
Vorn’s grin widened. “A dragon’s hoard. Dimensional storage spell. All the things you’ll need to survive in this world—without worrying about carrying everything around.” He paused, clearly savoring the effect of his words. “I could even teach you how to use it. Pretty nice, huh?”
Thorin scowled. "A dragon’s hoard? Yeah, right."
Vorn flicked his tail. "Not mine, but close. You in? I’ll even share some of the more... less valuable things I’ve ‘collected’ over the years.” He flicked his tail again, the motion almost teasing.
“You’ll want to carry all the tools, weapons, and junk you find on your way. And you’ll want me close by to explain everything. We both get what we want.”
Thorin raised a brow. "You ride my shoulder, and I get storage?"
Vorn grinned. "Yep. Not infinite, but plenty.
Finally, Thorin sighed and relented. “Fine, but you better keep your end of the deal, or I’ll toss you off it.”
Vorn’s eyes gleamed in approval, and he practically leapt onto Thorin’s shoulder, his tail curling around his neck like a scarf. “Smart decision, human. I’ll keep my end of the bargain. You just keep moving forward, and I’ll make sure you’ve got what you need.”
Vorn settled onto his shoulder.
“Alright,” Thorin said, standing up and adjusting the makeshift spear in his hand. “Let’s get to that village, see if I can find a tavern and figure out what comes next.”
Vorn smirked from his perch. “Keep your head down, try not to annoy anyone, and you’ll be fine... maybe.”
As Thorin began to make his way through the forest, Vorn shifted on his shoulder, his tail flicking idly. Thorin glanced up at him, trying to get used to the feeling of the wyrm perched there like some strange, miniature dragon.
“So,” Thorin said, trying to sound casual, “which direction to the road to the tavern?”
Vorn's head cocked slightly, and for a moment, he was silent, as if pondering the question. “Which direction? Honestly, if you knew how to read a map, I’d be a bit impressed. But since I’m dealing with you... let me think.” Vorn paused for a dramatic moment, then flicked his tail toward the right. “That way. Follow the trees. Don’t get distracted by any more squirrels.”
Thorin rolled his eyes. “Last time I checked, they didnt play well with others.” But sure, I’ll follow your lead. Just don’t expect me to carry you when you get bored and decide to fly away.”
Vorn gave a low chuckle. “Fly? Me? Oh, please. Besides, you’d be lost without me. No idea where you’re going, who’s going to try to rob you.”
Thorin shot a glance up at him. “Alright, smartass. I get it. You’re the expert here. So, no tavern for a while, huh? Anything else useful around?”
Vorn’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Oh, there’s plenty of things around here, human. Just watch for the bandits, wolves, and the occasional giant spider. You did want to level up, right?”
Thorin grimaced. “Bandits, wolves, giant spiders... yeah, that’s exactly what I was hoping for this morning.”
Vorn puffed out a tiny puff of smoke, clearly enjoying the sarcasm. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find the spiders to be a real ‘character-building’ experience. I’ll be there, cheering you on, from your shoulder, or over there.”
Thorin sighed, shaking his head,
“You’ll figure it out, human. For now, follow that road ahead. It’s not far. If you’re lucky, you’ll make it to the tavern before the sun sets. If not... well, let’s hope you like fighting in the dark.” Vorn’s voice had a teasing edge.
Thorin shot a look at the wyrm. “I’ll take my chances. Better to fight in the dark than listen to you talk.”
Vorn laughed. “Good one. You’re learning
[Skill Acquired: Walking]
Description: It's walking... No more baby steps.
Thorin sighs. Even his skills are mocking him.
Thorin walked, lost in thought. Why is Vorn really here? The little creature was helpful—sometimes—but something felt off.
Ahead, the road was blocked by thick webbing. A massive spider crouched in the center, its legs twitching, beady eyes gleaming.
Vorn nudged him. “You wanna tangle with that up close? Thought not. Use rocks.”
Thorin bent down, grabbing a stone. He took aim—whiff. The rock sailed wide. He threw another—too low, bouncing harmlessly off the dirt.
The spider reacted, its front legs shifting. Then, without warning, it lunged.
Thorin stumbled back just in time to avoid a sweeping leg. Fwip! A glob of webbing shot toward him—he twisted aside.
Evade skill acquired.
He barely had time to process that before the spider lunged again.
“Try hitting it this time,” Vorn said dryly.
Gritting his teeth, Thorin hurled another rock. It smacked into a leg, but the spider barely flinched. Another throw—miss. Another—thud.
Throwing skill acquired.
Encouraged, he kept at it. Most of his shots missed. His arm ached. The spider, growing agitated, lashed out. Thorin jumped back—Fwip! Another web shot. He twisted away just in time.
DING! Evade skill increased .10.
Sweat dripped down his temple. His breathing was ragged. Every dodge was getting slower, every throw more desperate.
One lucky rock cracked into the spider’s head. It reeled for a moment.
DING! Throwing skill increased .10.
Thorin saw an opening—he rushed forward, aiming a rock at its eyes. A leg swept toward him—too fast. He ducked but felt it graze his shoulder, sending him sprawling.
“Get up, get up,” Vorn urged.
Thorin rolled to his feet just as another web shot streaked toward him. He barely twisted aside.
DING! Evade skill increased .10.
This wasn’t working. He had to end it now. Gritting his teeth, he steadied himself, took careful aim—waited for the spider to move just right—then hurled his final rock with all his strength.
CRACK. The rock struck home. The spider twitched, then collapsed in a heap.
DING! Throwing skill increased .10.
Thorin dropped to his knees, gasping. His whole body ached.
Vorn grinned. “That looked exhausting.”
Thorin shot him a glare. “Next time, you throw the rocks.”
Thorin stood over the spider’s corpse, panting, arms aching, legs burning from dodging. His breath was ragged, but the battle was finally over.
+100 EXP
He dismissed the notification with a sigh. That fight had taken everything out of him.
Vorn tapped him on the back. "Not bad. Took you long enough, though."
Thorin ignored him, eyeing the massive corpse. "There’s gotta be something useful here, right?"
Vorn nodded. "Venom. Silk. Maybe some chitin, if you can break it off."
"Great. Only one problem." Thorin spread his hands. "No knife."
Vorn smirked. "Then figure something out."
Thorin scowled and crouched by the spider’s fangs. If there was venom, it’d be here. He picked up a rock and slammed it down, but the thick exoskeleton barely cracked. Gritting his teeth, he tried again, shifting his angle, using heavier blows. Finally, after way too much effort, one of the fangs split open, and dark venom dribbled out.
You have acquired [Harvesting (Novice)]
Thorin cupped his hands under the liquid—only for it to slip through his fingers, wasted.
"Damn it."
Vorn chuckled. "Oh, flawless technique."
Thorin shot him a glare, then exhaled. "Can you store liquids?"
Vorn nodded. "Of course." He nodded, and a small, glowing Dimensional Storage sigil hovered in the air. "Just put it in here."
Thorin quickly grabbed a piece of bark from the roadside, using it to scrape up what little venom he could salvage. Carefully, he held it near the glowing sigil, and the black liquid vanished as if swallowed by nothingness.
You have stored [Spider Venom (Impure)]
DING! Harvesting skill increased .10
"Neat trick," Thorin muttered.
"Handy, isn’t it?" Vorn smirked. "What’s next?"
Thorin turned to the web stretching across the road. "Silk, I guess."
He reached out to pull at a strand—only to have it instantly glue itself to his fingers. "Oh, come on." He yanked his hand free, nearly stumbling backward.
Vorn outright laughed. "Amazing technique, truly."
"Shut up," Thorin grumbled.
This time, he grabbed a smooth rock and pressed it into the web, trying to roll it up like thread. The silk stretched and clung stubbornly, but after several minutes of tedious work, he managed to scrape together a small, tangled bundle.
You have acquired [Spider Silk (Low-Quality)]
DING! Harvesting skill increased .10
Thorin held up the messy strands. "Can you store this too?"
Vorn nodded again, opening the Dimensional Storage portal. Thorin dropped the silk in, watching it disappear.
You have stored [Spider Silk (Low-Quality)]
"Easy," Vorn said smugly.
Thorin rolled his shoulders, exhausted. "I swear, that was harder than the fight."
Vorn grinned. "Welcome to survival."
With nothing left to harvest, Thorin turned back toward the road. "Let’s go."
Vorn fell into step beside him. "Think you’re getting the hang of it?"
Thorin sighed. "I’d rather fight another spider than do that again."
Vorn chuckled. "Oh, don’t worry. You probably will."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The road stretched before them, winding through dense underbrush and ancient trees. Thorin adjusted his grip on his tire iron, his mind turning over the many questions that had been burning within him since his arrival.
"So, is there a way back?" he asked, glancing at Vorn, who moved beside him with silent ease.
Vorn's gaze lingered on the distant horizon before he finally responded. "Paths travel in one direction more often than they do in two. Some roads end where they began, but that is a rare thing indeed."
Thorin frowned. "So... no?"
"A circle is a path, yet not all paths are circles."
Thorin sighed and kicked a loose stone in frustration. His thoughts were interrupted by a rustling in the underbrush. A large hare, nearly the size of a small dog, burst onto the road, its fangs bared. Instinct took over. He snatched up a rock and hurled it. The hare twisted, dodging the projectile, then lunged. Thorin barely managed to bring up his tire iron in time.
The fight dragged on as the hare danced around his swings, forcing him to chase it. His arm ached from throwing stones, most of them missing. But finally, one struck true, knocking the beast off balance. He closed the distance and finished it with a heavy swing of his weapon.
A soft ding echoed in his mind.
Throwing skill increased .10
100 XP gained
Panting, he wiped sweat from his brow. "That was tougher than I expected."
"Expectations weigh down the untested," Vorn mused. "Much like heavy boots in deep sand."
Thorin rolled his eyes. "Alright, next question. The elves—where do they come from?"
Vorn’s gaze drifted. "From three sources does their blood flow. Avian—of the ancient, winged kin, now lost to time. Humans, whose footsteps echo across many worlds. And nymphs, the spirit-kin of earth and air. From these three, elves were woven."
"Bird-people? Like, intelligent dinosaurs?"
"Once, yes. But fire and time take all things."
Thorin mulled over that information as they pressed forward. Another movement caught his eye—a massive crab, its shell gleaming like dull metal. This one was even larger than the hare. He hurled a stone, but it bounced harmlessly off the thick armor. The crab lunged, claws snapping.
Thorin dodged back, gripping his tire iron tighter. The thing was slow, but strong. His blows rang off its shell, jarring his arms. He changed tactics, aiming for the joints. His strikes became more precise, and after several heavy swings, he cracked through. The crab spasmed before collapsing.
Strength increased .10
100 XP gained
Flexing his aching fingers, he looked at Vorn. "That was rough."
"Adversity polishes the dull into something sharp."
"Yeah, yeah." Thorin exhaled and continued forward. "So, where do the other races come from?"
"Like you, they are wanderers, pulled from lands beyond. The threads of many worlds weave this tapestry. Humans walk many roads before they arrive here. Others come fewer and far between, but all have crossed unseen borders."
Another hare lunged from the undergrowth. Thorin barely had time to react before he dodged, barely avoiding its bite. He flung another rock, striking its hindquarters, then finished it off with a precise strike of his tire iron.
100 XP gained
Another rustling—two more hares. Thorin gritted his teeth and fell into the fight, dodging, striking, and learning their patterns. After a grueling few minutes, both lay still.
Agility increased .10
100 XP gained
100 XP gained
Thorin straightened, catching his breath. His legs felt stronger, faster. He was adapting.
Vorn gestured toward the fallen creatures. "Would you have me store them?"
"Yeah. No way I can carry all this.
Vorn gazed at the corpses, and a faint shimmer enveloped them before they vanished.
They continued down the road, Thorin still breathing hard. Another crab scuttled into their path. This time, Thorin was ready. He attacked with more confidence, aiming for the weak points. When he landed a perfect strike on the second joint of its claw, the shell cracked, and the beast shuddered.
Armor Piercing acquired
100 XP gained
Thorin grinned. "Finally getting the hang of this."
They had barely walked another five minutes when another hare sprang at him. By now, Thorin was moving faster, dodging with ease. He sidestepped, struck, and put it down in a few quick blows.
Mobility Speed skill acquired
100 XP gained
He shook out his limbs. His movements felt sharper, more controlled. He was improving.
Thorin’s voice broke the silence. "And dragons?"
Vorn glanced at him. "What about them?"
Thorin asked, "Are they from another realm too?"
"This world birthed them. They are of its bones, its breath, its fire." Vorn replies
"Not from other worlds like humans?"
"No. They are native."
Before Thorin could respond, a harsh, guttural snarl made him spin around. Two hunched figures stepped from the shadows—goblins. They were small, but their yellow eyes gleamed with malice. One wielded a crude spear, the other a jagged knife.
Thorin barely had time to react before the spear-wielding goblin lunged. He twisted out of the way, narrowly avoiding a thrust to his gut. The second goblin darted in from the side, slashing. Thorin staggered back, raising his tire iron just in time to deflect the blow.
It was the hardest fight yet. He hurled stones at them, but they dodged. Forced into melee, he fought defensively, barely keeping up. Every strike was met with a counter. Every mistake cost him ground.
Then, pure luck intervened. The spear-wielding goblin lunged again, but its foot caught on a root. It stumbled forward—directly onto its companion’s knife. The second goblin shrieked, collapsing. Thorin seized the moment, driving his tire iron into the last goblin’s skull.
Throwing skill increased .10
Evade skill increased .10
100 XP gained
100 XP gained
Chest heaving, he bent over the bodies, prying the spear from the fallen goblin’s grip. He also retrieved the jagged knife.
"Not bad for my second real fight," he muttered. "Barely made it, though."
"Survival is its own reward," Vorn said. "And now, these tools will serve you better than their last owners."
Thorin inspected the knife. "Actually… might as well make use of this."
He knelt and hacked off both goblins' ears, stuffing them into a small pouch in case there was a bounty. Then he looted what little they carried—small leather pouches, cloth scraps, and any usable leather from their makeshift armor.
"Alright," he finally said. "Let’s keep moving. I think I’m starting to get the hang of this."
Vorn nodded in silent agreement, and they continued down the road.
Thorin and Vorn round a bend in the road, revealing a small hamlet atop a raised earth mound. A circular wooden palisade, made of rough-hewn pikes, encloses the settlement. The sturdy barrier suggests defense against wandering beasts or worse.
At the heart of the hamlet stands a larger building, likely a tavern—the natural hub of trade, news, and weary travelers. Surrounding it in a loose ring are five smaller buildings, probably homes, workshops, or merchant stalls.
Smoke rises lazily from chimneys, and the scent of woodsmoke and cooking food drifts on the breeze. The muted sounds of daily life—hammers striking iron, voices haggling, and the occasional bark of a dog—carry across the air.
Vorn lingers at the edge of the path, his gaze fixed on the road behind them. His expression is unreadable, but something in the way he stares suggests deep contemplation.
"I hope she's right about this one... for both our sakes."
The thought coils in his mind like a serpent, lingering with an unease he dares not voice.
Thorin, still focused on the weight of the goblin spear in his hand and the ache in his limbs from the fights, pays no mind to Vorn’s lingering gaze. His mind is occupied with more immediate concerns—finding a place to rest, resupply, and perhaps even get some information about this world beyond Vorn’s cryptic responses.
The hamlet sits atop a raised earth mound, its wooden palisade weathered but sturdy. A simple gate stands open, guarded by two men clad in worn leather armor, their expressions wary but not immediately hostile.
Status.
Name: Thorin Blackwood
Race: Human
Thorin is currently at Level 4, with 200 XP needed to reach Level 5
Constitution: 6
Health 300
Intelligence: 3
Mana: Unknown
Strength: 3.10
Dexterity: 2
Agility: 2.10
Stamina: 2
Skills:
Mobility Speed
Armor Piercing
Evade 0.10
Throwing 0.30