Rick groaned softly as he regained consciousness, feeling a hard but cold surface beneath him. His fingers brushed against sharp edges, and his nose filled with the scent of rusted metal. He blinked his eyes open but could hardly see anything—his surroundings were engulfed in darkness.

“Where am I?” he muttered, trying to sit up. His hand accidentally knocked over a pile of metallic parts, sending a loud clatter echoing through the room. The noise made his heart race, and he froze. He was hoping that the sound would go unnoticed.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps approached. A door slid open with a silent hiss, and multiple hands grabbed him roughly. Before he could even understand his situation, they tied his hands and feet and dragged him into another room, the air thick with tension.

“Shut him up!” a male voice whispered sharply. Rick’s mind raced but was unable to keep up with the quick series of weird events. Who were these people? And why had they tied him up? Rick had no idea.

Once in the dim light of the new room, he saw them—three wary-looking people, their faces filled with fear and hope for survival. One of them knelt beside Rick and whispered, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? If the robots heard that noise, we’d all be dead by now.”

Rick’s throat went dry. “Ro…Robots?”

“Yes. Killing machines. Next time, you better keep quiet, or it won’t just be your life on the line.”

Rick swallowed, realizing that his scientific curiosity had been fulfilled landing him in a world far more dangerous than any fiction he’d ever read. It wasn’t that he hadn’t read of anything more dangerous but that fact that he was in danger himself right now.

The air was damp and heavy, carrying the stench of rust. Every breath Rick took tasted like metallic dust, and the silence was broken only by the faint whir of something mechanical far in the distance.

Rick was frightened by these people but he wished to give an explanation for the series of events and how he got there. Just as he was going to open his mouth and explain, The same voice from before aggressively whispered again “Shut him up!” Rick felt a rough hand clamp over his mouth making him unable to speak.

A woman crouched down beside him, her face twisted with fear and anger. “Do you have any idea how close you came to killing us all?” Despite the anger, these people managed to speak in a low voice.

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Ash opened his eyes slowly, feeling the cool air against his skin. The sight before him was one that he’d dreamed of a million times—majestic mountains, thick forests, and a sense of endless adventure. Yet, instead of leaping with excitement, a strange feeling of uncertainty held him back.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

He sat up from the lush green grass he was on. A tree beside was giving him shade from the hot sun. He slowly scanned his surroundings, Everything was as he’d imagined—untouched, and full of potential for discovery. But despite the beauty, he felt a small weight of uncertainty on his chest.

“Is this...real?” he thought to himself, moving his mouth but without making any sound. It was everything he had ever wanted, but now that it was here, he found himself hesitating. The towering mountains that had once excited him now felt intimidating. His limbs felt stiff as if his body needed time to adjust to the reality of being here.

Slowly, Ash stood and took a deep breath. The smell of coolness and earth filled his senses. He glanced at the dirt path leading into the unknown. His heart raced with a mixture of fear and excitement. “This is what I’ve always wanted, right?” he thought.

He knew he couldn’t stay still forever. The adventurer within him was itching to explore, but the enormity of the task ahead—navigating this world alone—was overwhelming. It wasn’t going to be as easy or romantic as he had read and imagined.

Taking his first steps, he reassured himself. “I’ll get used to it. This is what I wanted. I can’t fear it myself.”

As Ash was taking his first steps in the new world, he stumbled falling face flat on the grass he was lying in moments ago. He quickly got up and looked around feeling another round of uncertainty. This made him feel as if there could be more dangers waiting for him. This world looked like a beautiful place for exploration but in truth was a wild and untamed place.

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Lee’s eyes snapped open, and his breath caught in his throat. He was lying on a cold wooden floor. A faint, metallic scent hit his nose as he slowly pushed himself up. Blood.

The dimly lit room was cast in shadows, and as his eyes adjusted, he realized he was next to a large, old-fashioned study desk. His heart nearly stopped when he saw a figure slumped over in the chair—a man, dressed like a detective from an old movie, his head resting on the desk. Blood pooled around his head, and his hand gripping a revolver.

Lee’s body tensed, and he instinctively backed away, his breath shallow. “What...what happened here?” he whispered, his voice trembling.

He had read enough mystery novels to know what this looked like—an unsolved crime scene. But being in the middle of it, with a dead body in front of him, was far more terrifying than any book.

For a moment, he thought of running, but something deep within him urged him to stay. This was what he loved—mysteries, the thrill of unraveling the unknown. Yet, the fear was real, and it gripped him hard.

“I need to figure this out,” he thought, trying to swallow his fear. But first, he had to calm down. He took one more glance at the man, his mind racing with questions. Who was he? Why was he dead? And most importantly—where was Lee?

Though Lee had thought of figuring this case out he was contemplating running out of the house every passing moment. It was only his curiosity that was making him stay. Afraid of the dead body, Lee constantly tried to avoid having it in his range of vision.

The only light in the room came from a flickering bulb on the ceiling. Lee’s eyes kept returning to the pool of blood on the desk, thick and clotting, its dark stain creeping across the wooden desk. The revolver gleamed dully in the man’s lifeless hand, the barrel still pointed toward his head.

His eyes flicked between the dead man and the door, his feet itching to run. But then his gaze settled on the revolver again, on the stillness of the room. He had always craved mysteries, and always wanted to be the one to solve them. But this...this was real. Too real. And it terrified him.