The village was quiet, save for the occasional clink of chainmail and the low murmur of guards as they passed each other on patrol. Arlen moved like a shadow through the narrow alleys between the wooden houses, his body blending effortlessly with the darkness. The flickering torchlight barely touched him as he slipped from one hiding place to the next.

Fenri, ever watchful, padded silently at his side, his dark fur making him too almost invisible in the night.

Arlen’s mind raced with questions, each one spiraling into the next as he observed the village. The medieval architecture, the lack of technology, the presence of guards—it all hinted at a world far removed from the one he had known. ‘But why the guards? Are they really for protection against wild beasts, or is there something else lurking just beyond the reach of the village’s torches?’ Arlen chuckled to himself as he thought about how he is doing just that.

‘And what the hell is Myriad Tongues?’ he thought, glancing once more at his status screen. The skill sat there, almost innocuous in its simplicity, but the implications were anything but.

He had heard the guards speaking—clearly not in English—and yet their words had been perfectly understandable to him. Whatever this world was, it was determined to give him the tools to survive. But why? And what other abilities lay hidden, waiting for him to unlock? He needed more information, and the best way to get it was to stay hidden and listen.

He crept closer to the center of the village, where the guards had gathered. There was a small fire burning near the well, and three guards stood around it, their helmets removed as they warmed their hands against the chill of the night. ‘Humans!? Or at least they appear to be so.’ Arlen thought as he positioned himself behind a low wall, his body hidden into the shadows, as he listened to their conversation.

“I don’t like this,” one of the guards muttered, his voice low. He was younger than the others, with a nervous energy that made him shift from foot to foot.

“None of us do,” another guard replied, older and more grizzled, his leather armor worn and patched. “But orders are orders. The beasts have been getting bolder. We have to be ready.”

The younger guard frowned. “But why? They’ve never come this close to the village before. What’s changed?”

There was a pause. The older guard glanced around, as if checking to make sure they were alone. Then, in a quieter voice, he said, “It’s not just the beasts. There are… other things coming from the west.”

Arlen’s pulse quickened. He leaned in closer, his gaze sharpening as he listened.

The third guard, a tall, silent figure who had been leaning against the well, finally spoke. “The dead walk again,” he said grimly. “The captain doesn’t want to admit it, but that’s what’s stirring the beasts. The undead.”

Arlen’s stomach tightened. Undead? He had fought in warzones, dealt with fires and emergencies, but this… this was something beyond anything he had ever imagined. His hand instinctively moved toward the hilt of his knife, a habit born from years of training, but he stopped himself. He needed to hear more.

The younger guard looked visibly shaken. “You mean the stories about the Castle of Shattered Souls? I thought they were just legends.”

“Legends don’t kill,” the older guard replied, his voice grim. “That castle is cursed, boy. The kingdom that once ruled from it was wiped out by some ancient force, and now their dead rise from the ruins. That’s what’s stirring the beasts. The captain has been sending scouts west, but none of them have returned.”

Arlen felt a chill run down his spine. A ruined castle, an ancient kingdom, and the dead rising from their graves. It sounded like something from a nightmare. But it also explained why the village was so heavily guarded—if the undead were coming from the west, the people here were on the front line.

“They say the dead are moving further east every day,” the tall guard continued. “Sooner or later, they’ll reach us. And when they do…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

Arlen didn’t need to hear the rest. The village was under threat, not just from wild beasts, but from something far worse. He needed to leave before he got caught in the middle of whatever was coming.

But where would he go? The guards had mentioned the Castle of Shattered Souls, but that sounded like a place best avoided. Still, if the dead were moving east, there might be something—or someone—in the west controlling them. Maybe that was the key to understanding this world.

Satisfied that he had learned enough, Arlen slipped away from the well and made his way back through the village. His mind raced with the implications of what he had heard. If the undead were moving east, it was only a matter of time before they reached this village—and he had no intention of being here when that happened.

But as he moved, something caught his eye. A flicker of movement near one of the houses. Arlen froze, blending into the darkness as his gaze locked onto the figure moving between the shadows.

It wasn’t a guard.

The figure was smaller, dressed in dark clothes, their face obscured by a hood. They moved quickly, darting from shadow to shadow with practiced ease. Arlen narrowed his eye, his instincts flaring. This person wasn’t just avoiding the guards—they were up to something.

Arlen considered his options. He could let the figure go and continue on his way, or he could follow. Something told him that this stranger wasn’t part of the village—at least, not openly. And if they were hiding something, it might be worth finding out what.

He glanced down at Fenri, who was watching the figure intently, his ears perked and alert.

“Stay close,” Arlen whispered, and with that, he melted into the shadows, following the mysterious figure as they slipped through the village and out into the night.

Arlen moved like a wraith, his body merging with the darkness as he followed the hooded figure through the village. The figure was fast, darting between buildings, keeping to the shadows. But not fast enough to outrun his enhanced stealth. Arlen trailed behind, unseen, his steps silent as he watched the figure slip through the alleys.

Fenri followed at a distance, his glowing eyes locked on the figure ahead, ready to react if necessary.

Arlen’s curiosity gnawed at him. This person clearly wasn’t a guard or a villager going about their business. The way they moved was too careful, too deliberate. Whoever they were, they knew how to stay hidden—but they weren’t as skilled as Arlen.

‘What are you after?’ Arlen wondered, his gaze narrowing as he followed the figure.

The figure moved with a purpose, though their steps were uneven, almost hesitant. Every so often, they glanced over their shoulder, checking to see if they were being followed. Arlen remained a shadow in the darkness, his breath silent, his presence unnoticed.

Eventually, the figure slowed down. They reached the edge of the village, near a crumbling stone wall that bordered an empty field. The moonlight bathed the area in a soft, pale glow, making it harder for the figure to stay completely hidden. Arlen crouched behind a low wall, watching intently as the figure began searching the ground near the base of the stone wall.

‘What are you looking for?’ Arlen wondered, his instincts flaring.

The figure knelt down, rummaging through the tall grass near the wall. They moved with quiet desperation, as though time was running out. Arlen watched silently, his mind racing with questions.

After several tense minutes, the figure stood abruptly, their shoulders rising and falling with a heavy sigh. Their hands slipped under their cloak, revealing a small satchel and a few bottles. Arlen’s eyes narrowed. Medicine. The bottles were filled with herbs and mixtures, not weapons or valuables.

‘Why would they need medicine?’ Arlen thought, watching closely.

The figure took a step back, glancing around nervously. Due to his enhanced vision, Arlen caught a glimpse of their face as the hood shifted. A young woman. No more than twenty years old, with sharp features and dark hair falling across her eyes.

Arlen’s curiosity deepened. This wasn’t just a thief looking for valuables. She was after something specific—something urgent.

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She moved toward a small pouch she had hidden in the grass. Arlen watched her carefully as she opened the pouch and pulled out a handful of coins, counting them with trembling fingers. The sight of the paltry amount she held caused her shoulders to slump in frustration.

‘She’s probably stealing based on this secretive nature... but why?’ Arlen thought.

As if answering his silent question, the woman muttered under her breath, barely loud enough for Arlen to hear. “It’s not enough… not nearly enough.”

Arlen’s mind raced. She wasn’t stealing out of greed—she was desperate. The medicine, the stolen coins—it all pointed to something larger. He stayed hidden, listening, observing.

The woman slipped the coins into her pouch and tied it securely to her belt. She looked back toward the village with weary eyes, her gaze lingering on the houses and the guards patrolling nearby. Arlen noticed her jaw clench in frustration. It wasn’t just about survival—there was pain in her eyes, a burden too heavy for someone her age.

She began to walk away, heading toward the far side of the village, when she froze. Her hand instinctively reached toward her belt, gripping the pouch tightly.

Fenri let out a low growl, his instincts reacting to the tension in the air.

The young woman’s head snapped up, her eyes wide with fear. She scanned the area, her gaze darting over the darkness. Arlen remained perfectly still, his body blending with the shadows, watching her closely.

For a moment, their eyes seemed to meet, though he knew she couldn’t see him. Her posture tensed, her fingers tightening around the pouch of stolen goods. Arlen could sense her fear. But instead of running, she hesitated, as if debating whether to continue.

Finally, after a long, tense moment, she shook her head and whispered, “I need more… for them.”

She turned and hurried off, slipping deeper into the village’s outskirts. Arlen stood slowly, his mind turning over what he had learned. The medicine, the coins—she was stealing for someone. It wasn’t greed. It was survival.

Arlen trailed her, keeping his distance. She moved quickly, darting between buildings and avoiding the guards’ patrols. He followed silently, determined to understand the full story.

As the woman ducked into a narrow alley, Arlen caught up and, without a sound, emerged from the shadows behind her. She had stopped at the back entrance of a small, worn-down house. From the way she moved, it was clear she knew this place well. She reached into her cloak, pulling out the bottles of medicine and the small pouch of coins.

Arlen watched as she entered the house, her shoulders heavy with exhaustion.

He stepped closer, keeping to the shadows as he peered through a small crack in the door. Inside, he could see her setting down the stolen goods beside a small cot where a boy—no older than ten—lay coughing weakly. Her mother, an older woman with a pale face and sunken eyes, sat beside him, wringing her hands in worry.

The woman knelt beside the boy, whispering soothing words as she handed her mother the medicine. Arlen’s breath caught in his throat as the truth became clear.

She wasn’t a thief out of greed—she was a thief out of necessity. Her brother was sick. Her mother, too weak to work, sat helpless as their small family struggled to survive. And their father... from the faded portrait on the wall, Arlen could see the image of a soldier in armor.

Her father was gone. Dead in some war long past. This young woman was the only one left to care for them.

Arlen stepped back from the door, his mind whirling. He had seen desperation before—people pushed to their limits, forced to do whatever it took to survive. But this… it was different.

She had nothing. No money to pay for a doctor. No healer to ease her family’s suffering. Just stolen medicine and a few coins, barely enough to last the week.

Arlen lingered in the shadows, torn. He had no intention of revealing himself, but something about the scene tugged at him. This woman, this thief, wasn’t his enemy. She was just trying to survive in a world that had taken everything from her.

He turned to leave, intending to disappear into the night without a trace. He had seen enough.

Arlen lingered in the shadows, watching as the young woman moved through the small house. He knew he should leave—there was nothing more for him here. And yet, something kept him rooted to the spot, his curiosity outweighing his better judgment.

‘Just go,’ he thought, his mind at war with itself. But he didn’t move.

He felt a pang of guilt, knowing he was intruding on something deeply personal. This woman was struggling to keep her family alive, stealing to provide for them in a world that had clearly taken so much from her. And here he was, standing in the darkness, watching her like some silent voyeur.

But his curiosity held him fast. He had seen desperation before—men and women doing whatever it took to survive. And something about this woman’s situation resonated with him. She wasn’t a villain. She wasn’t an enemy. She was just trying to survive in a world that seemed to be falling apart.

The woman gently placed a damp cloth on her brother’s forehead, her voice soft as she murmured comforting words to him. Arlen couldn’t hear exactly what she said, but the tenderness in her voice was unmistakable. Her mother, seated nearby, watched with tired, grateful eyes. The scene tugged at something deep within Arlen—something he hadn’t felt in a long time. A memory came to him.

Earth

“It’s okay” a woman spoke in a soft voice. The woman looked sickly sitting in her hospital bed. The human Arlen looked up and through his blurry vision he eyed his dying mother. ‘Why her of all people? She has done nothing but help others.’ Arlen thought as the tears streamed down his face. His mother, Vanessa, was a beautiful woman inside and out. She had given up her carreer as a Pediatrician to travel the world and help impoverished countries. She even started a charity which she had put every penny of her savings into just to get it off of the ground.

‘She is so kind hearted, so why is the world so cruel to her?’ Arlen thought as he remembered her diagnosis of brain cancer after going to a clinic for a headache of all things. Now here she was fourteen months later after only being given six months to live. She had foregone chemo or radiation so that she didn’t have to live the rest of her life in pain or in a hospital. It would have only prolongued her suffering anyway not cured her.

“Baby, thanks for the flowers they’re beautiful.” She tried to pick up the bouquet but she was too weak for even that. Arlen cried harder and nuzzled his head againts her shoulder.

“Mom, thank you.” Arlen barely got out.

“For what dear?” Vanessa asked as she lightly kissed the top of her son’s head. “For being you i guess.” Arlen lauged as a bit of snot ran out of his nostril. Embarrased, he grabbed a tissue and wiped his face dry. After chatting for what felt like hours Arlen had to go home. That had been his last time seeing his mother alive.

"Other World"

Arlen smiled as he remembered his mother. He took a step back, intending to leave, but the soft creak of the floorboards inside the house made him freeze. The woman stood up, glancing toward the door with an expression of weary determination. Arlen watched as she grabbed a small bucket and headed toward the door.

Fenri’s ears perked up, sensing movement.

The woman stepped outside, pulling her hood back up over her head. She glanced around briefly before making her way toward the village well, the bucket swinging lightly in her hand.

Arlen’s body tensed. He had no reason to keep watching her—he had already seen more than enough. And yet, he found himself following her, his steps silent as he melted into the shadows.

‘Why am I doing this?’ he thought, a surge of guilt hitting him again. But his legs kept moving.

The woman reached the well, her body moving with practiced efficiency as she dropped the bucket into the water and began pulling it up. Arlen crouched nearby, hidden behind a low stone wall, his eyes fixed on her as she worked. There was something about the quiet strength in her movements, the way she carried herself despite the heavy burden she bore, that made him reluctant to leave.

As the woman lifted the bucket from the well, her movements slowed. Her head turned slightly, her eyes narrowing as if sensing something out of place.

Arlen froze, his breath catching in his throat. He had been so careful—so silent. But something had changed. She was on edge.

The woman stood still for a moment, her eyes scanning the darkness around the well. She took a step forward, her posture tense, and that’s when it happened.

A soft rustle—a sound so faint it was barely audible, but in the stillness of the night, it was enough.

The woman’s head snapped toward the noise, her eyes locking directly onto where Arlen crouched.

For a long, tense moment, they stared at each other. Arlen’s body remained perfectly still, hidden in the shadows, but he knew it was too late. She had seen him—felt him. Her eyes widened, and she took a cautious step back, her grip tightening on the handle of the bucket.

Arlen’s heart pounded in his chest. He had been discovered.

For a brief second, he debated his options—he could disappear into the night, vanish without a trace. But something in the way she looked at him, a mixture of fear and determination, made him hesitate.

He stepped out of the shadows, his tall, shadowy form emerging into the faint moonlight. The woman gasped softly, her hand flying to her mouth as she took another step back, her eyes wide with shock. Arlen raised his hands slowly, trying to show he wasn’t a threat.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Arlen said, his voice low and calm, though he knew how strange it must sound in this situation.

The woman’s eyes darted between him and the path back to her house, her body tense and ready to flee. For a moment, Arlen thought she might run, but she stayed rooted to the spot, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

“What… what are you?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Arlen opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. How could he explain what he was when he barely understood it himself? He wasn’t human anymore, but he wasn’t a monster either—or at least, he hoped he wasn’t.

“I’m just… passing through,” he finally said, his voice still calm. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The woman took another step back, her eyes never leaving his. Her fear was palpable, but there was something else in her gaze—something like curiosity, mirroring his own.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice steadier now, though still laced with fear.

Arlen hesitated. He didn’t know how much to reveal, or if she would even believe him. But there was no going back now. He had been seen.

“My name is Arlen,” he said simply. “I’ve been… watching. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she took another cautious step toward him, her fear tempered by a growing sense of confusion.

“Why were you watching?” she asked, her voice more curious than accusatory now.

Arlen’s gaze shifted slightly, his mind racing for an answer that made sense. He couldn’t explain his curiosity, not in a way that didn’t make him sound like some strange, shadowy figure lurking in the dark. But the truth was, he had seen her desperation, her struggle—and something in him had connected to that.

“I wanted to know more,” Arlen admitted, his voice low. “About you. About this place.”

The woman’s eyes softened, though the tension in her body remained. She studied him for a moment, as if weighing his words. Then, with a slow, hesitant nod, she took another step forward, her fear replaced by a cautious curiosity.