"Where am I?"
He muttered to himself, blinking in confusion as he realized he was lying in the middle of a vast meadow. The grass was a lush green, scattered with delicate flowers, and a gentle gust of wind swept across the field, making it ripple like the surface of a calm ocean under the moonlight—even if it didn't shimmer like one.
"How did I get here?"
He tried to dig through his memory, searching for any clue as to why—or how—he had ended up in this place. But nothing came. The last thing he remembered was sitting in his room, playing his favorite game, going on a guild raid with his friends. After that, everything turned blurry and indistinct, as if his mind refused to piece it together.
Lifting his gaze, his breath caught at the night sky, its black expanse dotted with stars that twinkled like scattered gems.
"What the hell?"
His eyes widened in shock. Hanging above him were not one, but two moons—one glowing a deep crimson, the other a strange, luminous green.
"I guess… I'm not in Kansas anymore."
He placed a hand on his chin and let out a slow breath, rubbing it thoughtfully. Is this what they call isekai? A portal fantasy where someone—usually some Japanese teenager—ends up in another world and has to fight a demon lord or whatever nonsense? In a situation like this, freaking out would probably be the normal reaction… not that I don't want to. I am freaked out by this entire ordeal, but it feels like something is holding me back. As if there's a chain around my neck I can feel, yet cannot see.
He gazed across the meadow and exhaled. "I suppose it might be better to move and try to find someone—or something—that could help with this predicament. Standing idle would do no good."
But which direction should he even start with? From where he stood, it looked as though he was at the center of an endless meadow, stretching wide and open in all four directions.
Besides, this was another world. He couldn't just walk off randomly; for all he knew, monsters could be lurking nearby, ready to turn a single misstep into his death.
And he was in no mood to die.
Then a thought struck him—something about isekai.
"Wait a minute… if I'm not wrong, don't these isekai guys usually get a bunch of freebies? Like some overpowered ability or special cheat skill?"
It was a common trope in these stories: the protagonist either gained absurdly powerful abilities, or something seemingly weak that turned out to be overpowered. Sometimes, they even got transmigrated as their game character, keeping all their skills and stats.
"Where's mine?"
He should get something—at least something. Otherwise, how was he going to survive this unknown world?
"Let me try this," he said, raising and extending his left hand. "Fire Ball!"
Nothing happened.
"Let's try again… Fire Ball."
Still nothing.
"Fire Ball!"
"Fire Ball!"
"Fire Ball!"
After the last attempt, he slowly lowered his hand. The empty meadow around him felt unusually quiet, almost mocking. It seemed he wasn't as lucky as the heroes from the novels he'd read. A part of him wanted to complain about the unfairness, but he knew it would be a waste of energy.
"Whatever…"
He shook his head, let out a sigh, and decided to walk north, leaving everything in God's hands. Either way, he felt doomed—whether he stayed here, standing still for who knows how long until someone showed up (if anyone ever did), or if he moved and risked dying on the road. At least if he chose the latter, he'd die while searching for some kind of possibility.
He walked, and walked, across meadow fields that stretched endlessly beneath the moonlight, passing clusters of flowers and tall, swaying grass that waved as the wind dictated. Yet there was no sign of life—only silence, broken by the faint whistle of the wind across the open field.
"Why is it so cold… here?"
The wind grew sharper, its chill grazing his neck and hands, both left exposed. He wore only his nightclothes: a long-sleeved V-neck shirt, plain black pants, and a pair of simple indoor slippers. They were never meant for travel, yet they were all he had—his slippers serving as makeshift shoes, carrying him step by step across the vast, lonely meadow.
At least I'm not naked… though this small mercy hardly eases my discomfort. If I had known, I certainly would have worn warm, woolen clothes instead.
He walked on and on, as hours slipped by—though how many, he couldn't say. With no watch on his wrist, time became meaningless, measured only by the ache in his legs and the endless meadow stretching before him. At last, his tiring march bore fruit: the boundary of a forest appeared ahead, a welcome sight compared to the monotony of open fields.
"Huh? What's that?"
Something lay motionless at the edge of the trees. His heart skipped a beat as he hurried closer—only to discover it was a body. A young man, handsome yet pale and withered. He looked freshly dead, as though life had only recently slipped away.
"Judging by the attire… this guy's a knight, or at least something close to it."
The man was clad in silver armor that gleamed faintly in the moonlight, though a gaping hole marred the stomach plate, the edges of the metal jagged and bent outward. Dark, congealing blood seeped from the wound, staining both the armor and the ground beneath him. A torn red cape trailed behind him, tattered and singed in places, and beside his hand lay a sword and a shattered shield.
It was obvious the man had been caught in some violent struggle that ended in his death. Yet, as he stepped closer, his eyes were drawn to the gaping hole in the knight's midsection. It didn't resemble a stab wound from a sword or dagger—the edges were too ragged, and there were no clean punctures. Nor did it look like a thrust from a spear, which would have left a narrow, precise mark. Instead, the wound was enormous, irregular, and brutal, as if something had torn through the armor with immense force. The hole was wide enough to fit both of his hands inside, stretching through metal, cloth, and flesh alike.
He felt a chill run down his spine, though his face betrayed nothing—some strange force seemed to prevent him from showing his emotions. Part of him wanted to vomit at the sight of this visceral horror, but he couldn't. Whatever had made this wound was strong enough to rip through not just armor, but the man himself.
"It has to be something inhumane… a monster with massive, powerful appendages capable of piercing both flesh and metal in a single strike," he said. Even if it was only his own theory, it seemed entirely possible—after all, this was a fantasy world. Unfortunately, that wasn't all.
A short distance away, more bodies lay scattered across the forest floor. Some had the same gaping holes in their torsos, others were missing heads, and a few had been severed clean in half. The ground itself was dark and damp with blood, the soil soaked through with the remnants of a brutal, violent carnage.
"This place is dangerous... I have to get the hell out of here," he said in a worried tone. If there really was a monster responsible for this, then there was no way he was going into that forest. Who knew what kind of dangerous beasts lurked in the shadows, waiting for prey? He had no intention of ending up like these knights.
His eyes then fell on the silver sword lying beside the fallen knight. He glanced at it, then at his own empty hands—then back at the blade, then again at himself.
"I know it's not right to loot corpses, but I need a weapon too," he muttered. "Sorry, man... but your sword is now mine."
He extended his hand and picked up the weapon from the ground, feeling the cold metal hilt press against his palm. Raising it toward the night sky, the blade shimmered brilliantly as moonlight bathed its surface, the reflection sharp and clear against the darkness of the night.
With that, he went from corpse to corpse, scavenging whatever seemed useful. He gathered bits of armor that fit well enough to give him some protection, found a red cloak—fluffy, though torn at the edges—and even secured a sturdy shield. A helmet with a narrow visor granted him clear vision while covering his face completely, making him look almost like a proper knight.
He also found a pouch belt, empty for now but promising. At the very least, it could hold potions, medicines, or anything else he might stumble upon later.
"So where should I go now? I'm certainly not going inside the forest, and I'm not turning back either. That way's too long, and this armor's heavy—the heat inside it will kill me. I'll have to take breaks in between just to cool down…"
What should he do? He had no idea.
"If I had a freebie like those isekai main characters, I wouldn't have to worry or overthink every single decision. I'd just go with the flow…" He paused, then exhaled sharply. "You know what? Screw this. I'm going inside the forest. Whatever happens, happens."
With that, he stepped past the tree line and disappeared into the shadows of the forest.