Looking at my progress, I was gradually treated with the awe-inspiring size of the mountains. Simply fucking grand. I may have been too arrogant in assuming that I could climb such a thing. This beauty of geological formations was much more barren in its forestry compared to the ones I hiked during camp and extracurriculars.
If you ignore certain aspects of this world, like the crippling loneliness, this place has a charm to it. There's no human in view, rarely an animal, only nature's flat… plains. Yeah, plains. I swear on my Ah Mah I had no desire to write "chest".
I've sometimes thought of what it would be like to grow up in a less developed area; to have the freedom of exploring vast untouched plains and forestry. The idea is surreal to me and sure, you're alone, but loneliness is a companion herself.
Did the Gods send me here to acquaint me with nature? If that's the case, I'm fully persuaded. Screw humans, they don't deserve to pollute and tarnish this world, let alone live on it. They can all die if I have this place to myself.
My controversial views aside, out of the corner of my eyes I noticed small shapes blurring, shooting through grass and leaving light flutters. I immediately assumed it was some kind of hole digging mole rat thing. The critter quickly went out of view and I followed its aftershadow. To no surprise, there was a hole in the ground. I squatted there for a moment, contemplating my next move. To dig or to not dig?
Because, you know, dear reader, what if burrowing rats are the dominant and sentient species here, and I need to establish first contact between man and mole rat? Gathering my courage, I began digging.
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Here's an interesting story: I just wasted 15 minutes of my life
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In accordance with the ending of the last chapter, It appears we will indeed meet before the 'morrow, as I grew bored and began writing immediately after the first entry. For the topic of this chapter, I suppose it will be rather unconventional that I'll discuss what happened chronologically before the first chapter, but you will have to cope with that, my imaginary audience.
My purpose here is to consider "how" I got here and "why" I was sent here. I actually meant to write those two words in italics for emphasis, but you can't really tell on paper, so you will have to deal with quotation signs for the time being. If there is magic in this world, perhaps I will be able to acquire an enchanted pen that can write in italics. Until I obtain such a commodity, you will have to bear with "these" signs.
Now, when I came about in this world, it was as if I was opening my eyes for the first time from a long darkness. There, I felt all traces of fatigue leave me unnaturally. I initally thought I was laid down on my bed, but the oddly cool and ticklish grass pressed beneath me told me otherwise.
I was frozen still on the ground for a long moment as the sky stared upon me without reaction. Naturally, I was very confused. As I finally began to sluggishly lift my head forward, the first sight I was greeted to were the mountains. After that, there was a short period of bewilderment before I had a good idea of what was going on.
The confusion was because, as you may remember, caused by the fact that I have no knowledge of how I arrived here. The obvious conclusion is that I somehow lost my memories during my transition to this area. More likely than not, it has been suppressed either by drugs or some kind of magic, because despite my lack of medical knowledge, I do not believe amnesia can work so precisely and conveniently. A good portion of my memories are certainly hazy, which makes this conclusion more likely.
That also suggests a group or person is actively interfering with me, which is concerning but will be addressed later.
As for what I can recall from my past, I believe it was around when the month was coming to an end that my memories began to waver and fog. I have faint visions of visiting some old antique store to browse around, presumably to buy this old hardcover book that I'm holding now. Beyond that, I couldn't remember any more details. The human brain has a knack for recognizing faces, but I couldn't seem to recall any of the ones that I had seen around that time. The men and women were colourless and formless shapes, shadowing over me and their voices a hypnotic buzz.
In fact, I don't even remember seeing my parents. Not even school. Not even friends. Just a fog of unclear emotions.
Depending on your preferences in fictional works, this may lead you to the conclusion that I have been drugged and thrown into a death game or something as a social experiment or (I twisted my ankle, ouch) as amusement for the powerful.
But that doesn't make sense. Why choose me for the death game? Because I'm interesting? Because a certain [Evil Organization] wants to research human psychology?
Both are ridiculous at best. I will admit, I am situated quite decently on the ladder of society, and touching me could very well mean poking at some particular people with a lot of strings to pull. At the very least, my dissapearance will provoke a lot of outrage in my city, if only because a student went missing, something which, as you know, has next to zero chances of occurring. This is not something a concealed [Evil Organization] wants if they don't want to drain their pockets trying to clean it up.
Of course, since I know nothing of my situation, I can't really tell anyways. I will be honest and admit that I discarded this possibility simply because I dislike it. The "Battle Royale" and "Death Game" fervor has outgrown its originality as a theme. There is no way you can improve such a bland genre. I will now cease to comment on this subject, as I fear to provoke the sleeping tiger known as the "fandom".
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
Those fucking pigs...
Otherwise, I would prefer what's known as an "Isekai" or "travel to another world" themed adventure. I will now bring up some critique and say that in these stories, the protagonist who finds himself in another world is occasionally an "otaku" who has extensive knowledge of the genre he's stuck in. However, I can count on less than half a hand the times where a MC will comment on the excessive number of tropes he encounters.
In this case, it makes me, the protagonist, discussing the genre he's in rather ironic (or is it meta?), but also a unique type of flower. Yes, I am a precious little snowflake.
Anyways, isekai stories usually tend to go very well for the protagonist, who finds new joy by using his powers for vague motivations, earning the adoration of female slaves everywhere while grandly pissing off the poorly written nobility and religious orders. If not, it will usually turn out to be an edgy clusterfuck of poorly formed ideas and recycled tropes. Not that your standard isekais are any better, of course.
If you've never viewed such an inferior selection of fictional works, perhaps you've only been acquainted with its even more retarded cousins: transmigration, reincarnation, and OP system in another world novels. The part about retardation may be an overstatement, seeing that transmigration stories have more history than any of the genres I just mentioned, but "travel to another world" was the theme of the first web novel I've read. Thus, it will always have precedence in my head.
And no, I will not tell you the title of the novel. I will never quote or mention the title of any of these insignificantly bad works for fear it may ruin all my credibility as a scholar and a human being. You're seriously telling me to quote a fucking webnovel?
The common factor with all of these genres, however, is their liberal use of power fantasy and appealing to males of the... lower social class. And these are granted in the form of horribly designed and even more horribly inconsistent cheat systems.
If I had such a thing... By having OP self-evolving abilities, I will essentially receive the "you're good, man" insurance ticket from God, giving me the choice of either destroying the world or hiding in a man cave for the rest of eternity, both of which sound very appealing. It must be wonderful to dwell in such safety.
Although, the color of the sky is giving me some chills. What's with the grey color? Don't you know it's very unsettling? The sky's supposed to be bright blue to emphasize the beauty of the [New World]!
I'm scared.
I want my OP system.
"Status?"
Come on, Gods who sent me here.
"Show Status"
Give it to me.
"Open Status"
You know you want to.
"Well, shit."
Nothing happened.
It looks like this journey will be interesting after all, if possibly very dangerous without supernatural powers at the beginning.
That might be a problem for our typical heroic protagonist, but I, great lord Tereszia, possesses a rare and powerful [Skill] known as [Self-Preservation]. You can be assured I won't be stepping in to fight bandits attacking a caravan.
In addition, not having abilities adds suspense and risk to a genre filled with overpowered and obnoxious protagonists.
At least, that's what I'll keep telling myself, because I'm pissing my pants right now.
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Around ten minutes after I added some finishing touches to the first chapter, I noticed with more and more attention a growing itch around my legs. How preposterous, this world dares to touch my delicate and masculine self...
The immediate suspect source for this annoyance was the grass, but a quick search revealed small red bumps across my legs. This is the moment where I realized my first opponent in this new world: insects.
I drew the meagre combat knife from my jacket. While I'd like to write that "its impressive size compared to my hands embellished a sharp curve of death", It was really just a typical civilian model: not the cream of the crop, but rather the sour sugar that failed to dissolve at the bottom of the cup.
I have no special background. No grand motivation. No tragedy. No oddparents from a bloodline of vampire killers, and no demon seal. Nothing. The only weapon I possess, the bloody work of man, is his steel. So, I charged into the fray with every intent to win.
I failed.
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New World: 2
Terrezia: 0
So far, I've lost twice: first against the burrowers and now the insects. Both times I barely managed to escape with my life and limb intact… truly a dangerous world I've arrived in, and this is only in the span of one chapter, too.
And I haven't even encountered a single intelligent being yet.
I suppose this is what they call "loneliness". But nonetheless, I must persevere. After all, it's only been an hou
Oh, that's a bird. I just saw a bird. Nice.
Anyways, if my internal clock is to be trusted, I've spent nearly an hour and a half walking. I can't measure the exact distance I've traversed, as I have no instruments of measurement. I do have a compass on hand, so if you're a special snowflake who knows some math tricks, you might be able to figure something out.
However, I do not count myself among the mathematical snowflakes. The only way to assess distance is therefore by using statistics. It's said that the average human can travel at 6.4 kilometres per hour by taking a brisk walking pace. But there are certain factors that need to be taken into account for lower error magins; the body composition plays a large role in walking speed. Take for example: my grandmother, a fairly average and fit woman. She will not be able to walk at 6.4 kilometres per second. I'm not sure she can even walk for one mile in ten hours.
Of course, this is given that my grandmother is dead.
I myself am decently built (last measured, 30th percentile out of the average teenage male), with average proportions and a height of nearly 170cm. I suppose I don't have to remind you that this is absolutely the ideal male form: there are no limits to surpass from here. Human evolution has truly reached its peak.
And yet, I lost to mere insects. Is this the limit of human ability?
It appears that the Gods are cruel.
It also appears that I've reached my desired ~2k word count (I counted myself, Dad are you proud of me). I would like to keep you entertained for longer, but I'm afraid I'll bore you to death with my long essay on the nature of reality that I planned, or perhaps a discussion of otherwise completely meaningless topics. One topic such as the complete list of people I have and ever had sexual attraction towards, including my fifth grade homeroom and math teacher, Ms. Page.
Ok... I didn't mean to write that. But I'll leave it there as our little secret. Of course, you can't tell anyone about this, or uncle Terry will do bad things to you when you drop your soap in the showers.
And you don't want uncle Terry to do bad things to you in the showers.