To begin, the goblin stood in front of Matthew, whose face was sure and committed, his breath cycling without pause, and the blade he held thirsty for a syrupy strike.
Even now, Matthew grinned; a vague multifaceted impression of intentions lingering behind his expression—time would not pause for him.
He would have to guide it himself, his grip fiery in form, the edges of his blade twanging endlessly for justification. Furthermore, hidden with him lay thoughts of self-assuredness and the concept of being or becoming the epitome of grace and beauty—a process that needed both external and internal affirmation as demanding as two beggars on the streets glancing from side to side.
In conclusion, he raised his blade as if to slash.image [https://i.imgur.com/HGqTQL8.png]
Before this month, things were different, so different. If Matthew only knew, if he did, he wouldn't be thinking the way he was now, stuck in contemplation like some stuck-up little nobody too involved with his daydreams.
He was daydreaming indeed, his thoughts a hurricane of imagination and considerations like a scholar reading bookshelves-worth of information within any given year. It was excessive. It was wonderful. And it was nonsensical.
Moving into that daydreaming mind of his, sounds and pops emerged rectilinearly throughout, a process comparable to the connection between someone riding a horse into the sea and the over-beeping of a car horn. It was strange and excessive with little synchrony in between them, except for that sensation that they came in lines, similar to tasting orange after seeing a cloud when tripping out on hallucinogens. It didn't have the same energy as someone fighting with a blade or crushing an opponent in a life-or-death situation. It was just him making empty ideas in his brain in an imaginative way.
To explore his imaginative mind further, one could start with this bundle of ideas: "The briefness of flight and the sky hiding above—they all gather together to form my presence. My eyes know that I am alive."
Then, furthermore, this mind could be found more surreal and riveting with this statement: "A drop of ice cubes almost clanked in his ear before he was taken back to reality, where sounds zoomed and tore through the air. This could be likened to artistic noise cycling over a spreadsheet. With all of this poking his senses, he wanted to escape into his mind."
It kept going and going, not a single breath wasted. All energy was devoted to this cause of inspiration.
"Morning, night. It could be any other day. But today was different. He was here at home, eating breakfast. That was what separated his life from everyone else—he was who he was right now."
"He looked behind him, in front of him, and all around because this place was familiar and it was everything that he knew. If something took it all away, then he would lose his mind."
"This was his mental state, clear and unhindered, carrying out its duties as a soul would. This was his hope and his mind. This was where he placed himself consciously with ebbs and flows. This was self-awareness—the knowledge that as a consequence of his own thought, he existed."
"Breaking apart from this philosophical reflection, a quiet, magical song progressively intensified in the background like a green monster stalking in the shadows."
"Time passed. It was only a few seconds, but it was enough to make someone feel hurt and pain. It was enough to break a soul."
"He was here, and everywhere around him, there was life."
"From his left, cheers of excitement flew throughout the home, contrasting the possibilities of death staining this world."
"To his right, words about games oozed with hearty pleasure, taking the form of tangible sounds that conflicted with existential hardship."
"All around him, these voices echoed, mimicking the anticipation a student felt before their test results.:
"When they did, they passed each point of the house."
"And at each point, the various memories associated with it bloomed, imbuing Matthew with a nostalgic fondness for how temporary things could be."
"The silence continued to draw forth Matthew's introspection with whirling winds."
"Shifting to his expression, a smile stretched across his lips, holding up his light-weight cheeks."
"Nevertheless, he continued his assessment of his environment, imagining himself with his family forever and the feeling of losing them."
"The final touch of his thoughts involved the scent of acrylic wafting close. It hailed from the remains of an unfinished blue paint job. With a nearby sniff, it gloated with characteristics like honey and of a coming sourness."
"In the end, he found love in the people around him."
His thoughts continued on and on, and it never ended.
Meanwhile, Matthew's siblings at the same table were engaged in a conversation about a game.
"Yeah! and the fact that they used that champion is what scared me the most!" said Matthew's youngest brother, Jerome. "I already knew that game was over!"
"Yeah!" said Mark, the second-to-youngest brother, headphones slithering around his neck as it fell. But he caught it before his smile dampened.
Another voice pitched in, another of Matthew's brothers: "Do they even read patch notes? I'm honestly confuddled!"
They were all his brothers, but some family friends passed by. So it was a gathering.
Soon, the voices sounded more faint as Matthew faded sleepily into the night.
But before that happened, Matthew himself added: "No, of course not! At this point, they should just retire the players. Just kidding." He was the eldest.
As soon as Matthew's focus diverged from the conversation, he learned there was still more chicken, so he gestured. Eventually, someone passed it to him.
As soon as he began eating, movements slowed down, and the mood began to embody still life in its form. Though, in life, there was a cycle.
Consequently, Matthew himself noticed these realizations and realized that he was being mindful, making a smile.
Eventually, as he smiled, his thoughts and concerns stopped at the appearance of a familiar smell—burning.
For some reason, this time, that smell marked something new.
Things were shifting like the movements of a hurricane.
But life was always like that.
Yet, this situation was different. Things were morphing.
Meanwhile, he noticed that the streets outside his window had this green magical hue, but it disappeared when he removed his glasses. He realized that the light bounced against his glasses in a unique way, cultivating his curiosity for what lay ahead in his awesome life.
Pivoting his focus to his brothers, he noticed his brothers' voices crescendoing.
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But in a moment's notice, they turned pitch black, still as a picture.
Suddenly, Matthew's smile dropped, and he began to stare at them for a moment, realization creeping in, facial expressions warping through and through.
But he suddenly disappeared, his open mouth cut off, his scream making waves across the universe.
All those years with his brothers turned to ashes, resting solely upon his memories moving forward.
Soon, as quickly as he disappeared, his eyes opened like the flip of a switch.
This was when he stopped thinking. His eyes let in light.
Focusing on the moment and the colors and shapes in his vision, he started to get a creeping sense.
He opened and closed his eyes again and again like a paratrooper falling into enemy fire.
His internal systems were trembling, making way for realization.
Then, his physical body responded in the form of shakings and tremors all across his body.
He stopped breathing, but he took a breath at a time he didn't notice.
His body began to sweat.
Collapsing, he thought he was still standing.
His eyes darting around, the headaches surged.
He lay still.
This agony took 30 minutes to complete. At the end of it, he said his first words, "Am I..." He was in a new world.
Where was he? He looked around; even his eyes were strange.
With time, naturally, the color green and the forest sharpened in his vision.
He breathed deep, still unable to exhale efficiently.
The light was lighter now like a bottle of glass reflecting sunlight, and his mind was easier.
Breeze of this world touching his skin, it marked the first time he was in a different world.
He was here in a different world.
"What's happening?" he proclaimed, his voice waving around and spinning in different places. The sense of disorientation extended to his mouth.
Waiting, he fixed his breath, then tested it, then hyperventilated briefly before returning to normal. He sniffed the air and the organic smells. He yearned to know where he was right now.
His heart paused when it heard a rustle in the background.
Looking around, his heart revved up again, opened up room for a nagging emotion: chaos, anarchy, and a sense that nothing would be the same. But he hoped it was similar to what it was like being a teenager: feeling strong emotions and pain that soon disappeared as if they were never there.
The background rustle was forgotten.
"Where am I?" he asked, a forced smile making its way into his face.
Meanwhile, the rustle found its origin—a group of green monsters seeing him in the distance, their faces clearing by the second.
Actually, he didn't see them because he wasn't looking. Yes, his head was turned away.
Rapidly, the monsters increased their footsteps per second. They dashed.
Matthew heard them, turning around, seeing that moments were shortening now that the monsters were on the move.
He glared out of fear, stumbling a little.
He gasped, his huffing voice trailing behind him. He hadn't been able to find the time to breathe or say something. "What the hell!" he yelled with a croak, his voice puncturing his expression with the sense that he was going to die.
His voice parachuted behind him and echoed past the monsters, alerting them of his precise spot.
"Please!" He bolted, his heart leaping in lumps, shaking.
Several warty pigs emerged on his left side, taking off out from the bushes and stumbling along Matthew's path.
Several monsters caught up to them in the distance, their feet grabbing into the terrain.
He leapt, his mouth shaking. "No!"
Behind him, two monsters reached a tree, launching themselves several leaps forward.
Nearby, Matthew looked at them as time slowed. In the same breath, the pigs tripped and fell after he unintentionally dodged in their path.
From behind, ramping fast, a monster's weapon found its mark on a tree next to Matthew after it was thrown. It had pierced through a pig. Due to tunnel-visioning at the pigs, the opportunity to kill Matthew evaporated.
"Please! No!" Matthew pushed on, struggling recklessly, tearing a tiny hole in his shirt, as he pulled himself and struggled against the dense vegetation.
He climbed down a slope, but it was too steep and rugged, leaving little time to escape. He looked behind him and kept going, running down until he slipped on the sand-like material on the ground.
When he fell, his back hit the earth, and he screamed in pain.
The shadows of a set of weapons began hovering behind Matthew.
"No, no, please!" He closed his eyes, knowing that he could die at any moment.
He looked at the sky, his face crumping.
He yelled, seizing the next branch and pulling himself forward.
A moment afterwards, he was pulled against the monsters' fists, as he hollered with pain. He begged for his life, the blades striking through skin and muscle. Motions turned into succinct lines, and his heart became a sinking swine–like cry.
"Noo!" His voice was beaten to a crisp.
Long afterward, when Matthew came to his senses, the shadows of people drifted past him.
Also, in his daze, he could only make out the blades flying past his face. Indeed, he nearly died, so he stood up.
But he felt a hand touching his shoulder, healing his body.
"Thank you," he said, still unsure how to comprehend his situation, emotions becoming repressed in his saviors' wake.
"Who are you?" he continued, fixing his hair instinctively at the sight of a person.
The person who saved him, a healer, nodded, saying: "You should rest. Don't worry about us. We'll talk later." Behind her, a group of adventurers were running around, killing off the last goblins.
Now that he was given space, Matthew's eyes darted around, looking for safety, but he was in a state of disarray, broken beyond measure. But maybe, this day would end, and he would disappear. He was safe, but his mind remained tortured.
He smiled a broken smile, as the healer turned around and joined her teammates.
As he processed the past series of events, the adventurers who had saved him finished cleaning up the rest of the goblins, forming a circle where they ate and drank to celebrate.
"It's the fact that he was laughing at that that made me so surprised!"
A chorus of laughter followed.
"And, and as soon as he heard me, he was already out running!"
More laughter broke out.
In the meantime, nearby, Matthew began trying to talk with one of the adventurers.
"Yeah, we had to fix up the goblin list. It wasn't all that easy today..."
The adventurer kept talking on and on, including strange terminology, and Matthew overestimated his energy levels, not being able to analyze his words.
Matthew suddenly thanked him, extending this thanks to the whole group.
But days later, he burst into tears and grieved for his family that he loved back on Earth.
He said: "Ma... Dad... Mark... Jerome... Gabriel... I'm sorry."
This was every day of his life now.
However, with time, Matthew found it easier to focus his energy inward, as he aggregated his thoughts.
He was everything that everyone wanted to be, but he was trapped in a jail cell. It was like when he was younger and when things were still bad at home. During those days, he would look through the bars of the staircase, through the window, and through the arrows of the gate just to have his eyes meet with an enormous structure that blocked most of his view of the sky. He did this when he felt most trapped by his domestic circumstances, and this set of coincidental physical representations of his feelings gave him a sense of place. Now, he was reminded of this coincidence, and he wished that he could return home.
He was homesick and nostalgic like Swiss mercenaries who missed the beauty of the countryside. Even if Earth in 2024 was horrific in many ways, it was the only place he could call home. It was a horrible place that he had growth accustomed to and experienced a lot of good and bad things in that he felt that he could no longer go anywhere else without completely eliminating himself as a person.
His social life, family, friends, sources of happiness, coping mechanisms, history, past experiences, and interests all lay on Earth, not in this new world he was in. Even if he travelled on Earth, as long as he was still with his family, he could enjoy himself and still feel real and memorable. Even the bad things on Earth gave him a sense of purpose because he had been dealing with them long enough to feel that he could keep going and continue resisting them. However, in this new world, he would face new challenges that he had never faced before.
Essentially, he was an immigrant who had lost his stable native life and job to work at the bottom in a whole new country.
To be honest, if he had to lower the seriousness a bit, he would think about his favorite dishes like sinigang, pork sisig, and other Filipino food. Though, he did feel a sense of wonder for the dishes of this new world similar to how he felt about konbini food, or food found in Japanese convenience stores.
Maybe, he could be okay. That was also what the guy at the adventurer guild suggested: "You could be okay."
"I could," Matthew said with a smile on his face, that which he prepared for social situations. But no, he was happy to talk with someone. It was better than torture.
"I remember a lot of things," he continued. "I remember the sun, the earth, and all the flavors of the... time I was still just sitting down..."
"Huh?" the adventurer said. "What do you mean?"
"It's hard to explain." Matthew knew that nothing could explain what it felt like to exist.
It was too difficult for him.
He knew that isolation was a resultant threat to his sanity.
So with enough time to ponder, he looked around, his heart beating in all the wrong places. Indeed, he made up a motley of people, him being the most out of place. His clothes were still the white shirt and shorts he usually wore at home.
As for his current location, he was sitting inside an inn where tens of people were eating, drinking, and sharing stories and concerns. It was a hub of living people, and it was not the kind of place that he could just tamper with without considering his duties and rights.
If someone decided to punch him in the face, he could not just use the logic of his culture and society at Earth to justify the rationale behind his subsequent response.
He needed to align himself with this new world and its bylaws, which meant that he had to assess each person seriously with a great focus placed on how liked they were.
This way, he could trace the roots of likability in this new environment. Basically, his college degree did more than give him essays to write.
Additionally, it gave him a sense of agency in teams, so even though he lacked a team, he considered the people around him as team members.
All he had to do was find out exactly how each person fit into society.
It all started from this inn.