John had been trudging along the meandering, dusty trail for three days. His solitary silhouette was the only thing of note amidst the trees, plants, and various scurrying wildlife. Aside from the weathered trail and the farmstead he saw on his first day, he couldn’t even be sure if other people existed. It wasn’t until the second day of walking that he realized what he initially classified as a hill was likely more of a mountain. "Man, maybe I just walk slower compared to other people," he thought to himself. He had nothing but time to consider what was going on, yet slowly but surely, he kept marching forward.
It wasn’t until the afternoon of the third day that the modest farm he had spotted earlier gradually emerged in the distance. Its weathered wooden structures seemed to merge with the ground, surrounded by fields of golden wheat swaying in the breeze. As he drew closer, a distinct aroma filled the air—a scent that seemed out of place in this idyllic setting. It was the unmistakable smell of Parmesan mixed with a faint scent of lavender. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was absolutely jarring. John found himself sniffing at the plants and noticed that the taller ones smelled more like aged Parmesan, whereas the smaller ones smelled more of lavender.
It was a serene day on the farm, the sun's warm rays casting a golden hue over the vast fields. Amidst the rolling expanse of crops, a boy labored alongside his father. Together they guided a weathered plow through the rich, dark soil. The boy's youthful vigor contrasted with his father's weathered stoicism, yet they moved together in perfect harmony.
The father, sturdy and weather-beaten, led the way with measured steps. His hands firmly gripped the wooden plow handles as he moved steadily forward. His weathered face spoke of years spent under the sun, lines etched with the wisdom of seasons past. The boy followed in his father’s footsteps, his face filled with determination, matching each deliberate stride with hopeful enthusiasm. “Good!” the father commented happily. “Now don’t pull too hard on the handles. You want it to glide forward.”
Both were dressed in plain, lightly colored clothes with stains of dirt on the knees and elbows. Their clothes were well-worn and slightly torn in various places but also cared for, as was evident by the patches that had been sewn on. Their gloved hands occasionally wiped away sweat that renewed itself moments after disappearing.
The rhythmic symphony of their labor filled the air, punctuated by the sturdy cadence of the plow slicing through the dirt. The boy's earnest effort was evident as he struggled to maintain the plow's straight course, his gaze fixated on the task at hand. Meanwhile, his father's weathered hands expertly guided the plow's path, years of experience and hard-earned skill ensuring that the lines were straight.
Together, father and son toiled under the watchful gaze of the sun. And they weren’t alone. As John approached the farm, he could see other small groups of locals tending to their daily chores, their weary gazes speaking volumes. They were real salt-of-the-earth types of people, and he had always found himself able to get along with their type easily enough.
Drawing closer, John put on his most sincere smile. "I just hope this works," he thought to himself. Salt-of-the-earth people were good people. Another thought popped into his head as he mentally prepared himself to pour on the trademarked John charm. "Just appeal to their good nature, and I'll be golden. Honestly, as long as I don't look manic, I should be fine," he thought as he timidly approached.
"Hey there, neighbor-inos! Beautiful day in the neighborhood, isn't it?" he called out from about 15 meters away, forcing a cheerful grin. Inwardly, he cringed hard. "Neighbor-inos? Really, John? What are you, some kind of discount Ned Flanders?" He cleared his throat, desperately wishing he could rewind time and erase that moment from existence.
The man he assumed to be a father looked up at John, a smile on his face until what John looked like registered with him. From the instant change in his demeanor, John guessed his face had gone for the manic look after all. John noticed that he was significantly shorter than the man and had to look up slightly to meet his eyes.
"'Ello," the farmer said matter-of-factly as he looked at John. He nodded, but that was all the expression his face gave. However, John saw him stepping between himself and the boy as if John meant either of them harm. He was already mostly between them, so his adjustment was subtle but noticeable enough. He tried to look calm, but John could tell he wasn't as his eyes darted around slightly quickly.
Not approaching any closer, John held up his arm to shield his eyes from the sun. "Sorry to bother you, sir, but I appear to be a bit...uh...lost?" John said, trying to sound as timid as possible. It probably helped that John looked like a girl, and his voice was fairly soft.
"...Yup," the man replied, not looking to remedy John’s problems.
"So, I'm sorry to intrude, but do you mind helping me out?" John held up his hands in a gesture meant to show no harm. "Geez," he thought, "I hope the ‘I surrender’ look is universal."
"Depends," the farmer said. He turned his head to the side and whispered something. The boy, who from this distance appeared to be no more than about ten years old, ran back towards one of the buildings. Once the boy was about 20 more meters away, the father’s stance appeared to relax some. Not much, but some.
"Look..." John put his hands in front of him in a placating gesture and tried his best to appear small. He had to squint some as the sun was bright. Luckily, it was overhead, so it didn’t completely blind him. "I kind of just appeared on a hill about three days back that way.” He motioned with his head and nodded once towards the hill that was nearly the size of a mountain. “I don't know where I am or what's going on. I'm hopeful I can find some people to maybe give me some direction."
As John spoke, the words kind of came spilling out. Every word was true and became more frustrated and quicker than the last. "I'm not asking for much, but I'd appreciate it, man to man, if you'd just help me out and point me in the right direction. I don't want trouble."
His eyes raised, and John could tell from the confusion on the farmer's face that he had a very different understanding of what “man to man” meant. John thought to himself, "I used confusion. It’s super effective." He shook his head in frustration. "Man to woman. Woman to man. Ugh! You know what I mean." John could feel himself getting flustered.
A few moments later, another man arrived. He wore slightly different clothes—overalls made of some denim-like material that was covered in grease stains. His short hair was slicked back, plastered to his scalp and forehead. Sharp features made him relatively appealing, but what stood out most was his equipment. He had various farming tools scattered about his person: small metal boxes in a pocket of the overalls, some wrenches in others, a pitchfork in his left hand, and some crossbow-like device with a bolt on a string in his right.
He was about to ask the older farmer—his father or boss, John couldn’t tell—what the problem was, but then he saw John. His eyebrows shot up, and he instantly tensed on the crossbow-like weapon. He didn't raise it, but John could tell he'd use it if need be.
John’s stomach growled, and his hand instantly went to cover it up, hoping it would quiet down. His tail swished indignantly. At that, the man with the weapon pointed it towards John. "Thrice damned demons you keep..." he half growled, and the older farmer put his hand on top of the bolt. His hand gently pushed the weapon down.
"Never heard of a hungry demon, but heard of plenty of hungry half-breeds," he said, looked at the other guy, and then nodded his head towards John. "I think she might be telling the truth." Now that he spoke more than single-syllable words, John could hear a slight southern drawl in his voice.
"Where are ya from?" he asked John.
"I doubt you've heard of it, but I'm from Earth," John replied, relief and hope creeping into his voice.
The farmer looked at John with confusion and raised an eyebrow. At least, John assumed it was a sign of confusion. John shook his head and waved his hand back and forth quickly. "Like I said, I doubt you've heard of it. Where is here anyway?"
"Muh farm," the farmer said with a slight smirk on his lips.
John appreciated a good smartass response as much as the next guy, but honestly, he wasn’t in the mood for it right now. So John looked blankly back at him. His eyes blinked slowly.
"You're in the kingdom of Aerolith," the farmer clarified. John’s look didn't change. "Spires fall, girl. How far away is your land?"
"Uhhh...let's say far. Very…very far," John tried to keep his expression deadpan.
The farmer pointed somewhere to the south. "Look, you need help I can't give ya. Can you walk?"
John looked down at his boots, which were still in surprisingly good condition. "Yep," he said as cheerfully as possible. Hope started to well in his chest now that he might finally get some help.
"Go that way for about two days." John felt his flicker of hope waver. "You'll come to a major road where you'll see travelers. Most of them will be going to the east another day or two towards a city." John’s flicker of hope got cold water thrown on it. "In the city, you'll find some guilds, and maybe someone could help ya." John felt crestfallen. Three or four more days of walking and, in the end, a “Maybe someone can help.”
His stomach growled again, letting him know it was rather upset with his life choices up until now. His tail still swished indignantly.
The man looked at John’s stomach and then at his face. "Sorry," John said and held his belly again.
“Spires fall, girl, when was the last time you ate?”
John wanted to say never, but he thought that might be TMI. The truth was still bad enough to hear. “I didn’t wake up with food. So three days?”
The farmer sighed and reached into a bag at his waist. He detached it and tossed the small sack at John. John opened it and looked inside, where it had some bread, a grain bar, and a few berries in it.
John looked down at it, then back up at the farmer, who nodded at him. John greedily stuffed it down his gullet. The bread was great, and the grain bar was filling. The berries tasted oddly sweet and left a super bitter aftertaste.
A notification appeared in the upper right corner of his vision.
Debuff:
Species Sustenance Mismatch (Poison)
Level: 2
Effect:
* Reduces overall health by 10%
* Inflicts minor poison damage over time.
* Decreases stamina by 15%
* Causes periodic waves of nausea, reducing focus and brief but intense bouts of pain.
* Your body will vacate this food
Duration: 10 minutes / 6 hours
Special note: Due to your glutton perk, you do not suffer the negative effects of being poisoned. This does not mean that your body will not vacate the food.
Note: Ah, the joys of cross-species cuisine. Next time, maybe stick to your own menu unless you enjoy the taste of regret. And keep near a toilet in a few hours.
John noticed after a few seconds that the debuff icon changed slightly, going from an angry red to a slightly less angry orange. For the moment at least, his belly felt full and gurgled happily as it digested everything he had given it. The farmer watched John eat the berries and seemed to give a guttural "Huh" as if he was curious if John could even eat them safely.
He pointed to them and said, "You can probably find lots of bushes of 'em along the road. They're about this big when ripe. If they're blue, don't eat 'em. If they look pink, they're good to eat. If you see another farm, go west." He pointed in the direction the sun rose from.
John pointed towards where the morning sun rose from and said, "You said west?" He was a bit confused as he thought the sun rose in the east and set in the west.
"Yup," the farmer said, seemingly missing John’s confusion.
John shrugged and held out a hand for him to shake. "Thank you."
The farmer looked a bit confused but reached for the hand. John went to grab his hand, but the farmer grabbed his wrist, and his large hand completely wrapped around it. He waived it back and forth instead of up and down. "Oh, where are my manners, miss? Name's Gary."
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
John was about to say John, but hearing the farmer call him ‘miss’ made him freeze. He still hadn’t chosen a name. ‘Crap,’ he thought to himself. ‘I could say my name is John, but this guy thinks I’m a girl. John isn’t exactly a girl’s name. And like it or not, I definitely look like a girl.’
Gary, unaware of the internal debate John was having, continued to introduce him to everyone. He motioned to the man with the weapon. "This is my son, John. You saw my other son, Federico. And if you come by a woman in a field with a small girl, that'd be my wife, Jess, and my daughter, Elena." He then looked at John expectantly.
"It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is also John." The farmer looked taken aback and looked him up and down. It was the most shocked he’d seen the farmer. ‘Well, shit,’ he thought. ‘Yeah, John isn’t going to work. What was his daughter’s name? Elena?’
He spoke up quickly. “Sorry, I meant Elena. My name is also Elena.”
The farmer looked at John suspiciously but nodded slowly. The farmer looked back up and down him some more. “Yeah, you seem like an Elena. Mine is trouble too.”
It felt weird for him to say and yet even weirder to hear the farmer confirm he looked like an Elena. He felt like part of himself died again right then and there. But if the farmer’s response was indicative of what others would think, maybe his name needed to be at least somewhat feminine. And that was as good a name as anything else. ‘Maybe I can just treat this as a character I’m cosplaying as?’ he wondered to himself.
John made his way for another two days in the direction Gary pointed. He imagined that by horse, this would be a much quicker journey, but unfortunately, he didn't have one. His only company was his own brain and tail, which seemed to not operate on the same nervous system. He tried to get it to move to the left or right, and it would flip or move up and down. Or just kind of swish between the two. And it scared him more than once when he tried going to sleep at night.
Over the next few days, he grew to enjoy the taste of the berries but hated the IBS they gave him. He'd eat berries for lunch or breakfast and by evening was violently evacuating them from his system. After the first day, he happened to look at the debuff and saw it had changed slightly.
Debuff:
Species Sustenance Mismatch (Poison)
Level: 2
Effect:
* Reduces overall health by 10%
* Inflicts minor poison damage over time.
* Decreases stamina by 15%
* Causes periodic waves of nausea, reducing focus and brief but intense bouts of pain.
* Your body will vacate this food
Duration: 10 minutes / 6 hours
Special note: Due to your glutton perk, you do not suffer the negative effects of being poisoned. This does not mean that your body will not vacate the food.
Note: Ah, the joys of cross-species cuisine. Next time, maybe stick to your own menu unless you enjoy the taste of regret. I keep trying to tell you that you’ve eaten food not viable for your species. If you thought the past day was bad, tonight will be worse.
"Thanks a bunch," he mumbled to himself as he popped another berry in his mouth. "And please don’t threaten me like that. It’s not like I have a choice here." He found they tasted like a very sweet persimmon but were the shape of a large blueberry.
Whenever he was alone, he spent time working on his spells and magic. He tried to see if he could use it, what he could use it on, or what the limitations were. He figured out fairly quickly that while his spells didn’t exactly list the limitations, there were quite a few. Mana bleed and blood control require a source of mana or a creature with blood. Piercing blood had to have a target he could see, and anything between him and the target could get hit. Hemokinesis really only worked on blood that was outside of a body.
It was the middle of the second day that John ran into another farm. The people here were far less friendly than the last farm. And by less friendly, he learned that Demonic Taint bane could potentially get him killed. For instance, people with those crossbow-looking things are surprisingly willing to shoot first and ask questions never. He found out it fired a bolt using the power of explosions and bullshit, and those bolts would embed themselves into creatures with a durable cord. The attacker could then launch a second shot into the ground in an attempt to keep the creature from leaving. The person with the bow could also flip a switch and retract the bolt.
John found all of this out because apparently he also classified as a creature, and his arm was the thing that didn't want to leave. Which was unfortunate because the rest of him did. When the first shot hit his arm, it hit with enough force to fracture his bone. It HURT.
The operator flipped a switch, and the bolt came back and started to pull John along for the ride. He yanked it out, fearful of what would happen if he got dragged back to the farmer. So he ended up running. Fast. Significantly faster than the guy with the crossbow, which luckily only seemed to have a range of about 10-15 meters.
With a limp arm, he heeded the original direction he was given and continued on his journey, heading east. Or as the locals called it, west. Leaving the humble farm behind, he checked his health. Apparently, the crossbow had taken about 30 health away. Half his health from a single shot. Luckily it hit his arm. "If it had pierced my stomach or spine…" he didn’t continue the thought, but even that little bit made him shudder. Remembering his video gaming days, John quickly realized he wasn't the tank.
When he left the farm and was safely in the woods again, he used his magic to sort of heal himself. It was a very quick process but mana-intensive, and he got the feeling it wasn’t quite what his powers were designed to do. It worked, but unlike gory armaments, it seemed like it was stretching what his powers could do because it was very mana-intensive and not as quick as he imagined a healing spell to be.
His blood flowed back into the wound, and his muscle stitched itself back together. After a few seconds, he could barely tell there was a wound in the first place. Next, he cleaned away the blood on his clothes. That was much quicker and far less costly mana-wise. Now all he had to do was stitch up where the bolt pierced his arm, and there'd be no proof he was even shot.
The road to the city was a large, well-trodden road flanked by lush greenery and colorful wildflowers. Birds chirped merrily from the branches of nearby trees, their songs blending into a harmonious symphony that accompanied his steps. The road was surprisingly wide, at least 30 feet, and just as surprisingly full of people. Many of whom gave John a wide berth. Wagons laden with goods trundled past, their wheels creaking under the weight of too many barrels and crates. Drivers, a mix of merchants, farmers, and hired help, offered nods or polite waves to other vehicles and occasionally would call out names in friendly greeting.
Occasionally, a child or two would run by or peek out from under canvas coverings, and John could see their eyes wide with curiosity and excitement as they passed him by. A few even said some hushed words to other kids as they passed him. “Mommy, she’s a demon,” one girl said in not-so-hushed tones as John walked past. Her mother pulled the child close to her for safety.
John also noticed several animals which only vaguely reminded him of animals from Earth. White birds the size of a seagull with iridescent plumage and three sets of wings chirped merrily from branches of nearby trees. One of them rustled its feathers, and feathers like a peacock fanned out behind it. A herd of creatures that looked like sheep grazed in a nearby field, but they had twisted spiral horns and vibrant multi-colored coats. The shepherd, leaning on his staff, kept a watchful eye on them while his loyal six-legged dog-like creature darted around, keeping the flock in line. Further along, a pair of sleek, scaled horses with glistening hides and faces a bit like a hairless wolf trotted gracefully. The back of their necks still sported a beautiful flowing mane that danced in the wind as they pulled an elegant carriage.
People of all kinds traveled without a cart as well. Some armed and armored, their faces set with determination and purpose. Some just wandering with a simple bindle on their back. He noted that a surprisingly large number of people were also model-esque in their beauty. One of the groups he saw was a group of people sitting on a fence by the roadside. They were just talking and laughing, and their voices carried. But as John got close, their attractiveness was almost enough to stun him into just staring. Each one seemed to possess a perfect combination of strength and beauty, their well-defined muscles and chiseled features highlighted by the dappled sunlight.
John’s eyes were drawn to a strikingly beautiful woman with long, flowing silver hair that shimmered like moonlight. Her eyes were a piercing blue, and her skin had an almost ethereal glow. She wore elegant lightweight armor that accentuated her athletic figure. On her back was a bow that seemed to be almost too finely crafted to be real. And next to her was another supermodel of a woman, her hair a rich fiery red that rumbled in wild curls around her shoulders. Her green eyes sparkled with mischief and energy, and a constellation of freckles dotted her sun-kissed skin. She wore light leather armor and had a pair of short swords strapped to her hips.
Hell, even the men were attractive, and John wasn’t attracted to men. One of the men standing next to her was a tall, imposing man with dark wavy hair and nearly midnight skin. His broad shoulders and muscular build were evident even under his heavy armor, which gleamed with meticulous care. His pink eyes pierced into John as he approached. A few hushed words were directed towards his companions, who all turned to look at John and had their own hushed words. John just waved at them, and the man gave a warm and genuine smile back. As John passed, the obsidian man gave a slight wave of his own and said, “Good morning.” His deep voice resonated through John.
A passing wagon that had five or six people in the back pulled up to John. "Need a lift?" the man in the driver’s seat asked. He pointed to the back, where a woman held out a hand for John. She was also not human, and from the shape of her ears, John would guess she was an elf. John grabbed her offered hand, and he felt a static discharge. The elven girl looked and nodded at John, who gave her a quizzical look in return. The elf easily helped John get into the back of the wagon.
From how easily she pulled him up, John realized she was strong. Her strawberry blond hair cascaded in gentle waves, reminiscent of the hues of a summer sunset, and seemed to radiate a soft golden glow in the dappled light of the shaded road. Each delicate strand framed her face like strands of spun gold, adding to her otherworldly allure. This was John’s first time seeing an elf in the flesh. ‘Man,’ he thought. ‘If all of her race looks like her, I get why folks fantasized about elves so much back on Earth. The movies don’t do them justice.’
Her features were striking yet delicate, her pointed ears tapering elegantly to graceful points. Her eyes, a vivid shade of iridescent green, sparkled with a mischievous glimmer. Her slender frame moved with a natural grace, her every gesture as fluid as the dance of leaves in the wind. Clad in a gown of flowing fabric that mirrored the colors of spring, she seemed to blend seamlessly with the natural splendor behind her. Needless to say, she was quite pretty and quite possibly the most supermodel-esque woman he had seen in person.
Benches lined the sides of the wagon, and the other five occupants were all sitting down, some attentive, some half-asleep. Everyone in the wagon was attractive, but only two of them were beautiful. As John looked around at the other faces, he realized the elf girl was only the second prettiest. Two seats down from her was another blue-skinned girl, and damn was she gorgeous. Ethereal and graceful, with a slightly fragile appearance. She had shimmery skin with a faint bluish tint, reminiscent of the blue sky. Her hair flowed like wisps of clouds, varying from white to light blond. Her eyes sparkled with a light citrine color. Her clothes were light and flowing, caught in the breeze.
She looked over at John and then seemed to put him out of her mind. He mentally rolled his eyes. ‘As different as this world is, it’s good to know that pretty girls still act the same.’ John looked away and saw the elven woman across from her looking at him expectantly.
"Sorry, I was distracted," he said to her. Internally, however, he admonished himself. ‘Stupid lizard brain. One pretty girl and suddenly everyone else disappears? C’mon, John. You can do better than stare at her gorgeous eyes. Think. Did she say something? Shit, I can’t remember.’ "S'alright," the elf said, her cheerful face smiling slyly. She knew what John saw, and from what he guessed, he wasn't the first person and wouldn’t be the last to look at the blue girl and have his brain shut off.
"Anyways, on your way to Zephyr's Reach, luv?" Her accent was almost cockney.
"If that's the city we're headed to, yes," John replied.
"What's ya name, luv?" the elven girl asked.
John checked his character sheet. Since he had only really called himself one female name so far that was even remotely feminine, he mentally typed in Elena and set it. "Elena," he said simply. ‘I guess if I'm going to tell people this is my name, I might as well own it,’ he thought to himself.
"Oh, that's a lovely name, innit?" she smiled and then nodded her head towards the cart. "I'm Lehara. This is Marcus. That's Lila. The sleepy one is Grumpy, that's Rowan, and finally Sven." She motioned to each of the people in the caravan, and John noted that Grumpy flicked her off when she said his name. He pulled the hood of his cloak over his face more and settled down further into the seat, almost slouching. His chest rose and fell as if he had fallen asleep, but considering John thought he was asleep before he flicked off Lehara, he wondered if he was actually asleep this time.
"So, what brings ya to Zephyr's Reach? Fame? Adventure? Money? Bored?" Lehara asked.
The cart jostled and bumped on the road. John’s ass came down hard on his tail, and he yelped. He rubbed his back and tail. He didn't feel like telling his life story to these people. At this point, he was tired, hungry, and just wanted a bed to sleep in. His back felt surprisingly good for sleeping on the dirt for three days, but he was starting to miss the simple joys a hot shower and mattress would bring. "Honestly, I don't know. Just looking for people to help, I guess."
"Oh, well, there's plenty of that around here, luv. Everybody's lookin' for help." She looked a little sad, and the mood in the cart changed for the worse. John wanted to ask some questions about the world he was now in, but the woman spoke with the man in front of her in hushed tones, and John thought it’d be rude to just butt in.
The cart moved along at a brisk pace, much faster than John had been walking. It got to the gates of the city, and at the edge of the drawbridge, the passengers all got up and exited the wagon. "Pleasure to meet ya, luv. Best of luck on helpin' folks. Everyone needs it."
The cart got to the gate, and it stopped. The city was impressive for a fantasy world. A towering metropolis that sprawled across the horizon, the city seemed to rise from the planet in a majestic display of architectural prowess. Its buildings reached for the sky like behemoths of steel and glass. Some of the tallest buildings might have been 20 stories tall. John felt like a tourist in New York, looking up at the impressive buildings. The streets beyond the gate bustled with activity, a vibrant tapestry of diverse cultures and thriving street markets. Flags of different colors fluttered in the wind, each emblem representing a different faction or guild vying for dominance within the city walls.
The guards came up to the wagon and spoke to the guy on the cart. "Bringing in one?"
The guy on the cart looked back at John and then the rest of the empty cart and said, "Yep."
The guard looked at John and soured, his face scrunched up into a scowl. He came back and ordered him off the cart. He complied and looked at the man. The guard was honestly impressive to look at. His polished breastplate and weapon looked both sturdy and deadly. His face was weathered with age, but even he looked nearly model-esque. His hazel eyes looked at John as if he was an animal to be broken. He gave John a look that conveyed displeasure and distrust. And that’s when John felt something odd. He wasn’t sure what it was, but the guard became mentally taller and more intimidating, pressuring John into complying with his wishes.
It was almost as if he had a presence, and that presence was forcing him to do whatever the guard wanted. And what he wanted was for John to be meek, obedient, and subservient. It made John feel like disobeying this guard was going against the law and that the slightest mark would be enough to throw him in jail and lock him away for good.
It also made him feel kind of pissed off. "What the hell, man," John thought to himself. "I haven’t done anything wrong. I wasn't planning on breaking any laws." The fact that this guard was assuming he was going to do something stupid bothered John on some deep intrinsic level.
So John stood up straighter, almost rigid, put his hand to his forehead, and saluted. "Sir, yes sir!" he said in his most mocking tone. He could tell from the look in the guard’s eyes he was trying to determine if he was insulting him or complying. After seeing no hint of mocking in John’s face, he decided his words of warning were good enough and stepped aside, letting him pass.