"It seems... still failing."
A faint voice. Distant, echoing through the night wind. Or perhaps... just the remnants of a dream not yet faded.
Slowly, his eyelids fluttered open.
The first thing he saw—the night sky.
Vast. Dark. Filled with thousands of twinkling stars, silently gazing back at him from afar.
"...Hah?"
The sound escaped his lips unbidden. He didn't know who he was asking, or why. But the unfamiliar weight in his chest... was hard to ignore.
His body slowly rose from the ground. His arms and legs felt light, yet awkward. As if this were the first time he had truly felt them.
Grass brushed against his fingertips. Cold. Damp. The night wind blew softly, carrying the scent of leaves and moist earth.
He stood.
Then turned.
Behind him, a stone tower loomed. Tall, sturdy, silent. No light. No sound from within. Yet its presence was overwhelming, as if marking the beginning of something.
He looked around.
A grassy plain.
The night sky.
A stone tower.
And himself... who knew not who he was, where he was, or even why he was here.
"...Where is this...?"
No answer came.
Only the whisper of the wind, rustling through the grass, accompanying him in the silence.
His gaze drifted further, spotting flickering points of light in the distance—perhaps a town.
And so, he began walking along a narrow path toward the town illuminated by those distant flames.
No light guided his way, save for a lone firefly that flitted ahead, casting just enough glow to keep him on the path.
Before long, he saw it—a massive fortress gate, guarded by two figures clad in armor, wielding long weapons, their equipment resembling something from...
"...The Middle Ages..."
He murmured the words, then froze.
*'What did I just say...?'*
His brow furrowed. The term felt foreign, yet somehow familiar. As if it belonged to another place—a place he couldn't remember.
A place now lost.
His eyes returned to the guards. They hadn't noticed him yet, but he knew... that gate was the next step.
"Hey, stop right there."
A sharp voice cut through the night.
Instantly, a spear was leveled at him—cold, unyielding.
The dark-haired young man froze, his body tensing reflexively. His left hand rose slightly, as if to show he meant no harm... though he wasn't even sure what was happening.
*'Danger...'*
The instinct came from nowhere, but his body reacted faster than his thoughts.
"...Eh?"
A short, confused sound escaped his lips—like a lost child.
One of the guards stepped forward. Even in the dim torchlight, his gaze was piercing.
"Who are you? Where did you come from?"
A simple question. But he had no answer.
The young man opened his mouth—but no words came out.
"I... My name is..."
His tongue felt heavy. His mind clawed at the darkness, searching for something... anything. A name. A home. A reason.
But there was nothing.
Only emptiness... and the sound of the night wind.
"..."
The guard on the right—slightly shorter—glanced at his companion and muttered under his breath, just loud enough to hear.
"Hey, aren't we being a little too harsh?"
The other guard snorted.
"Relax. If we go soft and let just anyone in, we'll be the ones answering to the Captain if something goes wrong."
"Yeah, I guess..."
They exchanged hushed words, but the spear remained pointed at him.
The young man stood motionless, his eyes downcast, as if searching for answers in his own shadow.
Then...
"...My name... is Ren."
The words were soft, nearly lost in the wind.
The guards exchanged glances before one of them turned back to him.
"Ren...?"
The young man—now calling himself Ren—nodded slowly.
"Yes... My name is Ren," he said, clearer this time. "I just woke up in the grasslands... near a stone tower."
For a moment, only the crackling of torches and the wind filled the silence. The guards studied him more intently, their expressions shifting... from suspicion to something else.
"...Ah. Another one, huh?"
The guard on the right sighed, lowering his spear slightly.
"Looks like we've got another Lost Child."
"Lost... Child?" Ren repeated silently. The term was unfamiliar... yet, for some reason, it felt like it had always belonged to him.
"Oi, you. Call the Captain."
"R-Right!"
The left guard quickly turned and rushed toward the gate, his footsteps echoing on the stone path. The other remained, though his stance was far more relaxed now.
Ren stood still, staring at the flickering torches along the wall. His heart still felt hollow. But at least... he had one thing now.
A name.
"Ooh... so this is the Lost Child?"
A deep, gravelly voice boomed from behind the partially opened gate. Heavy footsteps approached, each one shaking the ground slightly.
The man who emerged was massive—too large to be normal. Over two meters tall, his body built like carved stone. His head was bald, and a long scar ran down his left temple—proof that he was no stranger to life-or-death battles.
Slung across his back was a massive axe—nearly as tall as Ren himself.
Ren swallowed hard.
"Y-Yeah..." he stammered. "I just woke up in the grasslands... near a stone tower."
The giant man's eyes narrowed, but his smile... wasn't threatening. If anything, it was calm—like someone who had seen too many strange things to be fazed anymore.
"Relax. No need to look so tense."
A large hand clapped Ren's shoulder—gentle by the man's standards, but strong enough to make Ren stagger half a step back.
"Uhm..." Ren dared to ask. "Where... is this place? And what's a Lost Child?"
The giant man paused, his gaze lifting to the star-filled sky as if searching for answers.
"Hmm..."
Then he looked back at Ren, his expression serious.
"I can only tell you one thing..."
His deep voice was quiet but firm.
"This place... is Midgard."
"Midgard..." Ren repeated, letting the name resonate in his mind.
"As for your second question..." The man grinned slightly but offered no further explanation.
"I'm not the one to answer that. You'd better head to the Adventurers' Association. They'll explain the rest."
"Adventurers'... Association?" Ren echoed, still confused.
The Captain simply nodded, pointing down the stone road leading from the gate.
"Just follow that path. When you reach the fork, take the left. At the end, you'll see a building with a sign... a cat holding the moon."
Ren blinked.
"...A cat holding the moon?"
"Yeah. You can't miss it. The symbol's pretty noticeable."
Ren nodded slowly.
"A-Alright. Thanks..."
"Then get going." The Captain hefted his axe and turned away, as if this were just another minor matter settled.
Ren stood for a moment longer before the massive gate, staring into the town that slowly swallowed him in the night's darkness.
No one followed his steps. No voice called out to him.
Only himself... and the road ahead.
Slowly, he walked on. His footsteps echoed softly against the cold, damp stone. The town felt ancient—and asleep. Stone buildings lined both sides of the road, their wooden windows tightly shut. The torches along the walls flickered weakly, their orange glow barely enough to push back the darkness... but not the loneliness.
Step by step, Ren moved through the quiet alley.
At the crossroads, his gaze was drawn to two diverging paths.
To the right—an uphill road. At its end stood the shadow of a castle. Dark, imposing, partially hidden behind high stone walls. Only its tallest tower was visible in the night mist, piercing the sky like a needle.
That place...
Felt... distant.
Not in distance, but in existence.
Ren stared for a moment. The wind blew cold and silent down that road. He imagined someone important lived there. A noble. A ruler. Or... someone else entirely.
But his feet did not turn that way.
Instead, he chose the left path—narrower, lower, but warmer with the glow of distant torches.
The road to the Adventurers' Association.
That was his destination now.
Not the castle. Not the mysteries behind those high stone walls.
But the first step.
To understand this world.
And to understand himself.
The path led him down a slight slope, past low buildings of aged stone and wood. The light here was slightly brighter, perhaps because the structures were more open than those on the previous road.
And finally, he saw it.
A large building stood alone at the road's end. Its outer walls were dark wood, charred in places but sturdy and well-kept. Above the entrance hung a wooden sign with a distinct carving—a curled cat embracing a crescent moon.
"...This is it."
He paused before the door, watching the sign sway gently in the night breeze. His heart beat a little faster. Not from fear... but from the unknown awaiting him beyond.
Ren raised his hand and pushed open the heavy wooden door.
Creeeak—
The hinges groaned loudly, and warm light spilled out, momentarily blinding him.
When his eyes adjusted...
Ren froze.
Inside... was nothing like the cold silence of the town outside.
A vast, high-ceilinged hall buzzed with laughter, chatter, and the clinking of glasses. Wooden tables were scattered throughout, and in every corner, figures clad in armor, tattered robes, and weapons slung across their backs filled the space.
Adventurers.
So varied in shape, attire, and face—some laughing loudly over drinks, others leaning quietly against walls, a few even bickering over card games.
A strong aroma filled the air—ale, aged wood, and roasted meat.
Ren stood at the threshold, transfixed.
This place was alive. Full.
And he—who had woken up in an unfamiliar field mere hours ago—now stood in the heart of a world he did not yet know.
"...Is this really the first step...?"
With slow, deliberate steps, Ren finally crossed the threshold.
One small step,
Into a world that was just beginning to unfold before him.