The forest began to thin as Arlen moved north, the dense, twisted trees giving way to more open ground. The oppressive silence of the Ghostwood was behind him, but the night remained his constant companion. Fenri padded quietly at his side, the wolf’s eyes glowing faintly in the moonlight, ever watchful.

For hours, Arlen had walked in near silence, the eerie stillness gnawing at his thoughts. He wasn’t sure what to expect beyond the forest, but he needed answers. He needed to know where he was, what this world was. The interface, the shadows, his new abilities—they were all mysteries that gnawed at him.

Then, ahead, the path opened. A road.

Arlen stopped, crouching down as he surveyed the area. It was a well-worn road, the kind made by the passage of carts and horses over many years. Dirt and gravel stretched ahead in both directions, a sign of civilization. For the first time since his arrival in this strange place, hope flickered in his chest.

‘Finally…’ he thought, his eyes narrowing. ‘There’s something here.’

He moved to the edge of the road, keeping low in the shadows, his gaze darting up to the sky. His breath caught in his throat.

Seven moons.

They hung like ghostly orbs in the night sky, each one a different size, but all casting an eerie pale light over the landscape. Arlen’s heart pounded in his chest as the sight drove home a painful truth—he was no longer on Earth. Whatever this place was, it wasn’t home. He clenched his fists, the shadows swirling slightly around him in response to his mounting frustration.

Fenri’s low growl pulled him back to reality. Arlen glanced down at his companion, who was staring intently toward the road. Movement. Arlen’s eyes followed the direction of Fenri’s gaze. In the distance, faint shapes moved along the road, too far to make out clearly, but the presence of others was undeniable.

‘Not alone after all,’ Arlen thought, a twinge of both anticipation and wariness settling in his chest. He wasn’t sure if the beings of this world would be human or something else entirely. Either way, he couldn’t risk direct contact. Not yet.

Stepping lightly, Arlen stuck to the shadows, moving parallel to the road. The landscape around him shifted as he walked—fields of dry grass, sparse trees, and the occasional farmhouse dotting the horizon. He continued northward, his mind racing with questions.

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Eventually, he saw it.

A small village appeared in the distance, nestled a few hundred yards from the road. The faint glow of torches flickered from between wooden houses, their structures simple and medieval. A simple chest height stone wall encapsulated the village. Stone wells dotted the village, and a lone horse stable stood near its edge. There was no sign of any modern technology—no streetlights, no power lines—just torches and the quiet clinking of chains in the night air.

‘Medieval…’ Arlen noted silently. He scanned the area, his sharp eye picking out details—the uneven cobblestone paths, the worn wooden beams of the houses, the thatched roofs. Everything about the village felt as if it had been pulled from an ancient history book. There was no doubt in his mind now: this world was far removed from the one he knew.

Fenri nudged his leg, and Arlen crouched low again, watching the movements around the village. Figures moved through the streets—patrolling guards, their helmets gleaming faintly in the torchlight. Arlen’s gaze sharpened. The guards wore leather armor with chainmail beneath, and their faces were hidden behind metal helms. Each carried a spear, and they moved with the discipline of trained soldiers.

‘Guards…’ Arlen thought. ‘Is there a war going on? Or is this place just dangerous?’

He moved silently, slipping through the shadows as he made his way closer to the village. The guards passed by, unaware of his presence. Arlen blended effortlessly into the darkness, his stealth skills coming naturally now. The shadows wrapped around him like a second skin, muffling his movements as he crept closer to the heart of the village.

He paused behind a stack of crates near one of the houses, listening intently. The guards’ voices drifted over to him, muffled but clear enough to understand.

“Another patrol tonight?” one of the guards asked, his voice gruff and low.

“Of course,” came the reply. “The captain’s orders. No one slacks, not with the beasts lurking around.”

Arlen’s brow furrowed. Beasts? Was that why the guards were out in force? He filed the information away, his mind racing with possibilities. But something else gnawed at him—he could understand them. The language they were speaking was unfamiliar, yet the words were clear as if they were speaking English.

‘How…?’ Arlen wondered, a sense of unease settling over him. These people clearly weren’t speaking English. Something wasn’t adding up.

Curious, Arlen opened his status screen with a thought. The familiar interface blinked to life in front of him, and his gaze immediately went to his list of skills.

There, at the bottom, a new skill had appeared:

Myriad Tongues.

Arlen stared at it, his heart skipping a beat.

‘Another gift from this… world,’ he thought, closing the interface and narrowing his eye as he watched the guards move on. ‘Does that mean I can speak many language or just understand them? Maybe If I were to talk to them they could understand me!’

His curiosity deepened, but the need for caution remained. He didn’t know enough about this place, these people, or the creatures they feared. For now, stealth was his best option. He slipped further into the shadows, moving unseen through the village, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.