Assaulted by a pain that seemed hell-bent on ripping him into shreds, Michael jumped to his feet, howling. Unfortunately, the rapid ascent was cut short by the low ceiling above the bed he was in.

Skin and mortal flesh, in general, were no match against the stone. Therefore, what followed was a short sequence of two thumps. One against the unforgiving rock above and a second against the bed, which was, unfortunately, made out of the same material.

Michael fell into the Abyss of unconsciousness with a groan, though, luckily for him, there was no pain to be felt.

The journey didn't last long, as a voice seemed to guide him from his unwilling slumber.

[Sanctuary was never meant for humankind. It was forged as a refuge from the war between the High Heavens and the Burning Hells. Instead, it became a new battleground in this Eternal Conflict...](?)

It was the rough voice of an older man seemingly telling a story, as whispers belonging to children could also be heard through giggles and gasps.

'Shit... my head hurts so damn bad! Sanctuary? High Heavens and the Burning Hells? The 'Eternal Conflict' as well... Fuck me sideways! There's no doubt about it anymore. I've been somehow transported into the world of the game.

Does that mean that in the beginning, I could observe the actions of those four because it was only a memory of someone? Hmm... maybe my soul or consciousness was drawn there due to the summoning of Lilith?

But the fact that the demon could 'see' and somehow attack me is not good. I don't know if there is any lasting damage that I can't point out due to the difference in strength. Fortunately, I can at least feel my limbs again, which is very much welcomed.'

Slightly panicking but recovering fast since he was no longer a disembodied soul, Michael did various field tests by moving his fingers and ensuring that everything worked as it should while keeping his eyes closed to avoid drawing unwanted attention to him.

While he was scared shitless by the odd situation and the unfamiliar 'room,' acting irrationally was a recipe for sure death in an unknown and dangerous place.

[A secretive group called the Horadrim has kept mortals safe. But now, this once-powerful order is a husk of what it was, and Sanctuary's ancient creators have returned to claim the hearts of humankind. This is the story of their downfall.](?)

[Old man! You're scaring the children again?](?)

[Little Martha, I did no such thing. The truth must be spoken so everyone can partake in it.](?)

[Truth? Hah! It's only the Church's nonsense aimed at taking whatever few savings we have left. They keep preaching left and right about doing this and that, yet they are never the ones to follow the precepts. Tell me, Old man Al, why should we listen to them at all?](Martha)

[Little Martha... *sigh* You've heard the whispers yourself. Every village is talking about it in hushed voices. While the Church is screaming joyously about Father Inarius descending upon our world once more, the common folk whisper about the Sacred Mother walking among us as if she's our route to salvation. Shouldn't the children know the stories?](Al)

[Maybe later in their lives, but not now when they need to know only of the innocence of childhood. And certainly not before going to bed! You know how these brats had nightmares when you told them about the Wanderer and his fight against the Lord of Terror... Their parents will complain again and always come to me instead of you.](Martha)

[Hahaha! My bad! It is my bad, little Martha. Okay, kids, we'll stop here with the stories. Grandpa Al needs to speak with the wounded Wanderer over there.](Al)

[Grandpa Al! Do you think this Wanderer is also preparing to fight the Lord of Terror?](?)

'Oi! The brat over there, watch your mouth!!! Don't randomly raise flags out of nowhere!!!'

[What Lord of Terror, child? Didn't I tell you heroes of old long sealed him away? Go now. It's time for supper. If you linger any longer, there will be no food left for you to eat.](Al)

The group of lively children left hurriedly, and Michael slowly stood on his bed, avoiding getting knocked out again.

Looking at his surroundings, he quickly mapped out the escape routes in case he needed to make a run for it after realizing that he had no apparent wounds and wasn't tied either.

He calmed down quite a bit when he noticed an old man walking towards the 'bed' as he took in the 'room' he was in. It looked more like a cave than a house, and the rough walls, ceiling, and floor with huge rocks embedded in them only confirmed that further.

Then, he turned his eyes to the man walking his way. He looked in his 70s and was dressed with what seemed to be a gunny sack, for lack of a better description, and a rope around his waist.

On his feet, he had some wooden sandals exposing his bare feet. From what Michael could feel on his face, it was undoubtedly the Winter season! So, with this man being as exposed to the elements as he is and not shivering like he was supposed to... made it a strange sight.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

'Oh... right! I almost forgot that the world of Sanctuary is set in the Middle Ages. Normal people are usually as poor as peasants, and even in the cities, there is little difference. Maybe he is just used to the weather due to 'experience'? What about me, then?'

Ignoring the old man, he stood up from his bed and inspected his clothes. Well, he was better dressed, that's for sure. There was an inner cloth that wasn't as rough to the skin as the gunny sack seemed to be, and that was the case for both his shirt and pants.

The outerwear was only animal fur placed on top of the inner cloth and sewn, keeping his body warm regardless of the temperature outside. Also, he had boots on his legs that went all the way up to his knees. The fur inside them is just as thick and feels even more comfortable.

[We didn't touch your possessions, Wanderer. The horse and your scythe are also safe, with the animal well-fed and sheltered from the cold winds, while the weapon is hidden in one of my cabinets so the children won't harm themselves in their boundless curiosity.](Al)

Michael blanched momentarily when hearing the words 'horse' and 'scythe' but quickly regained his bearings. After mulling things over for a second, it seems he could extract some information from this old man, so he did his best to roleplay into this 'wanderer' persona as much as he could.

"Thank you for the shelter and nursing, old man. Where am I?"

[Just a small village in the Desolate Highlands. It's a mountain camp used when the wolves outside become too hungry and the winter winds too strong. Four days ago, you came here feverish and barely riding on the horse. An intelligent animal, that one!

He smelled the smoke and slowly approached our settlement, where we took you in. You haven't been eating these days due to the high fever, so you should be starving. Follow me, and let's grab a bite before those little hungry ghosts devour everything clean.](Al)

Michael just nodded in acquiescence while following in the old man's footsteps. He came here on a horse while plagued with a high fever that rendered him unconscious for the past four days. He was better dressed than the folk he saw on his way to the 'eatery' in the middle of the encampment, and since the old man mentioned that he had a weapon, they treated him as an adventurer of sorts.

They held no love for him, made evident through the pointed stares and muffled voices, no doubt discussing him. And he could understand it from a psychological point of view.

A stranger armed with a goddam scythe popped out of nowhere in their small enclosed society, obviously interrupting their daily lives.

'It's not like I did anything wrong, but they probably don't want to risk harming themselves and their youths by allowing a liability in their midst. It seems that I should hit the road as soon as possible to avoid being kicked out more harshly. Though, I can try something first...'

With temporary plans being made, he hungrily devoured the porridge in the wooden bowl, doing his best to ignore how bland and terrible it tasted. His stomach didn't protest as it hurried to digest its first meal in Heaven knows how long.

The cogs in his brain kept turning, and finally, he reached a feasible solution to extend his stay in this settlement until he better grasped the new reality around him. He no doubt transmigrated into this world and had almost zero knowledge of his situation or any common sense that would help him fit in.

Remembering the summoning ritual and those demonlings attacking the party, he shuddered as he swallowed the last scoop of food in his bowl.

"Old man, can I do anything to repay your kindness for nursing and providing me with shelter these past days?"

To his surprise, however, the surroundings became deathly silent, so much that Michael wished he had the scythe previously mentioned for good measure. Even the whispering stopped as the villagers appeared hopeful, while old man Al looked troubled.

[Don't bother yourself, Wanderer. We are fine as...](Al)

[Old man, if he wants to repay us, let him.](Martha)

[*Sigh* You little brats... My apologies, Wanderer, but we seem to need some assistance after all.](Al)

"Don't worry, old man. I asked the question, so don't bother being courteous to me. As long as I can help, I'll do my best to do so. If I can't, I'll find other ways to make it up to you."

[Well... you probably noticed from the lack of meat in our food that our supplies are not doing particularly great. Our hunters and trappers can usually find enough to get us through the winter, but this time, the wolves are too active and either hunted down or scared away any potential catch. Can you help us stock up on provisions so our camp can survive the winter?](Al)

"I..."

Michael wanted to ask more questions, but a blue exclamation mark appeared in his view above the old man's head, reminding him of quests in the actual game.

While thinking and yelling 'No way!' in his mind, he gulped and whispered 'Inventory' to confirm his conjecture. Yet, nothing happened.

Thinking back to the old Diablo games he played and their mechanics, he almost yelled 'Character' in excitement but stopped himself when noticing he was still the center of attention.

Fortunately, this time, a virtual page opened in front of his eyes towards the right side of his view. Noticing no change from the villagers, he calmly closed it by willing it so and coughed to end the awkward silence.

"I understand. I will do my best to assist, but you must be more specific about what I can help you with. Do you wish me to hunt and help you shore up provisions that way, or do you wish me to kill the wolves nearby and rid yourselves of a bigger potential problem for this winter?"

[Wanderer, by getting rid of the wolves and bringing their carcasses back, we can take care of both problems at the same time. Young wolf meat tastes similar to chicken, while matured ones closely taste like pork. We can also cure it into rations, which easily last throughout the winter. Though the packs have been very aggressive lately, two of our hunters returned with severe injuries after a more dangerous encounter... It's like they've gone mad all of a sudden.](Al)

Mulling things over for a bit, a plan was taking shape in his mind, so he calmly continued.

"I understand. I will see what I can do tomorrow, but I need to understand the area surrounding this camp and the hunting grounds of the wolves from your hunters.

That way, I won't run randomly through the forest hoping to encounter them, but rather, head straight for their caves. It will be more time efficient."

The mood shifted, and the old man, alongside a couple of veteran hunters, provided him with more details about the camp's surrounding area.

A clear 'PING' sound made him dizzy briefly after the hunters stopped explaining the surroundings. Scared, he initially thought that the villagers poisoned the food, but soon, information poured into his mind, making him mutter the word 'Map' involuntarily.

'Goddamn! An actual ancient map covers most of my view, though it is mostly unexplored. All I can see is a marker showing myself and a somewhat blurry silhouette of the camp.'

Having a rough idea of how this map might work, using the excuse of walking around to 'digest his meal properly,' he began exploring every nook and cranny of the camp, except for the people's homes.

The map became more apparent in a matter of minutes, and some annotations became evident on it, like the cave he woke up in being called 'Old Man Al's cave.' Nothing fancy, but this gave me an idea about what to do next.