but at least from this distance, it doesn't seem there are supposed to be four roads to enter in from. I get closer, and as soon as I am within talking distance, both men ready their spears.
"Halt, who goes there?"
I put my hands up in surrender "Chill, man, I don't got any identification or anything like that, but the name is Lock if you're asking."
One of the guards says, oh. Never mind. He must be new. Are these guys even trustworthy? Maybe I should book it.
"Before you think about running newbie, this guy over here is level five and I'm level 10 meaning were both far faster than you." He extends his hand and flashes a kind smile "I'm guard captain Mishima." He's a bit older than me, probably in his 30s. Brown hair, broad shoulders, brown eyes. But he's well kept, and all that muscle he carries with the heavy plated armor he wears makes him look imposing.
I shake his hand "Well, Mishima, you have the honor of meeting the great Lock Heartreaver. These NPCs seem pretty friendly on the surface, but it's not like I have any other choice. Maybe I could have tried to survive out in the woods, but without a single weapon, I'm pretty much dead in the water.
He cringes. "Right, well, follow me. Once we get you registered, we'll get you set up with work as soon as possible."
"Wait, a job? No, bro, I don't want to work," I exclaim.
He narrows his eyes, "Well, that's the only way you're gonna be able to get housing and food from any of us."
"Okay, do I at least get to choose?" I ask.
"Of course, from what's available, unless you're actually okay with the first option, but you look a delicate sort, or at least someone who really cares about appearance." He scratches his cheek.
I sigh, "Whatever, old man, I'm following you."
Well, I guess this isn't so bad. Things could be a lot worse considering I've been transported to a strange place without any way of getting home. I follow Mishima closely. Some of the townfolk give me short nods and looks of pity as we walk by. Mishima has a spare knife on his belt. The only thing on my screen that says I can do are these things called mystic eyes. By locking eyes with someone, I can paralyze them for a full six seconds. Currently, this ability has a 30-second cooldown, and I don't really know why, but I have full confidence I can just activate my ability whenever I want.
Should I just tap him on the shoulder, paralyze him, take his knife, and run? I need information, though, so maybe that's not the best yet. You stop in front of a normal-looking building.
"Hey, Mishima, before we enter, you mind if I check the windows?" I ask. He turns to me. In that instance, I'm ready to lock eyes with him and paralyze him, and he says, "Oh, sure. You must be worried that I've taken you somewhere strange, but don't worry, it's nothing like that."
I peer into one of the windows. There seems to be a bunch of people in there drinking, some of them laughing. And there are people who look like me in modern-day-looking clothes, nervously shuffling at one of the tables.
"I'm guessing you expected me to arrive?"
"You're sharp, that will serve you well. I don't know much about the amount of jobs we have left."
"That's Mirahi's thing, but once you're in there, you'll start getting answers."
"Okay, if I leave you here, you seem like you can introduce yourself just fine."
"Hmm. He knows that I'm looking for answers." Well, no need to hesitate. "Yeah, you're good. I won't leave and run off somewhere I know and get you in trouble." I stopped right in front of the door. Wait a minute. Am I of legal drinking age here? Back at home, they said I had to wait until 22, and every day since I've been wanting to die because of that. I know how hard it is to get booze. My father made sure that he had people both following me in and out of the house to make sure I wouldn't go and booze up anyone or get boozed myself.
Mishima responds, "I mean, yeah. I don't see how drinking is a big issue."
I push open the front doors, a wide grin on my face. "Go, Mishima. I have a destiny to lay claim, too."
He scratches his head and leaves. No one in the tavern really pays me any mind, besides a loud bang at the front doors. I walk up to the front, and I see the most beautiful lady I've ever seen in my life.
Utterly flawless skin, short red hair, and pristine violet eyes. Her chest doesn't have much to speak of, but her presence feels awe-inspiring, as if she lights up the entire room. Her composure is like some of the rich chicks that my dad would have me hang around during events.
She gives me a small smile. "You must be new. Are you ready to get registered?" She pushes a small square note with a pen to me. As she leans, her tits push up against the countertop, a greedy look swimming in her eyes. "Your name right here." She's got to be into me; this might be the easiest bucket I have ever made.
I take the pen and write down my name on the card while saying, "I can think of a couple of places where I would rather register my name." I flick the card back, smooth as a baby's ass, but my fucking dick got in the way of my speech. Please, Lord, let it come off funny.
She looks at my stats, then back to me, and flashes me a pitying smile. A soft chuckle escapes her. "Unfortunately, I don't think you're strong enough for that yet. Why don't you just join the rest of them? And I'll be with you all shortly." She walks away towards the bass, swaying those voluptuous hips.
"So it's not a no?" I shout.
She looks back and, only for a moment, gives me the do-me eyes, licking her canines before leaving.
Let's fucking GO! I'm so fucking in there. With that, I walked to the table and plopped down into my seat, looking at the other seven at the table: four dudes and three girls.
Two guys with brown hair, amber and green eyes, respectively. They kind of look like brothers, but they have their dissimilarities. Their physique is a prime example. The amber-eyed guy has a slimmer physique, while the green-eyed guy has a much tougher physique. It's quite similar to Mishima's except younger and a little less trained.
There's a guy in the back with black hair, red eyes, scary-looking scars all over his face, and a physique just as heavy as Mishima's.
Then there's one last boy all the way towards the back, pink hair and blue eyes. He's very lean and looks a little frail. All of them are about my age.
As for the rest, the first of the girls is a petite blonde with twintails and a very dainty body that looks delicate to the touch. The other had short, red hair, green eyes, a very sporty figure, a finely toned stomach, very well-toned arms, and a great-sized chest to boot.
Lastly, the girl at the back truly captivates me: long, moonlight-touched hair, deep, striking violet eyes, and a quiet, princess-like composure with a perfected hourglass-proportioned body.
So I got a spit game immediately, but before I can even open my mouth, the black-haired dude with scary scars on his face speaks. "What world are you from?"
"Pardon?"
He repeats, like I got nothing else better to confess, "You heard me. What world are you from?"
"This some kind of fucking joke? I'm from Earth," I spit back.
This guy's wearing modern clothes, like me too, so I don't know why he's asking me dumb questions.
The only people who aren't are the sporty chick and the girl with the violet eyes, and the sporty chick has rather ragtag, untamed, barbarian-like clothing, while the moonlit girl is wearing rogue leathers with a dark hood laced with bird feathers. It really doesn't make her any less noticeable, though.
"I'm from Earth," he mocks before groaning, "you're the fourth Earthling today. This group might be really fucking screwed." He scratches his head furiously.
"If my existence is some type of mistake, we can fight about it, and just so you know ahead of time, I won't be the one losing."
He cracks a smile. "Oh, you're one of the feistier earthlings. That's great. I was looking for a punching bag to beat in."
I gesture to him to come at me, ready to activate my eyes. "If you want to brawl, bitch, just say when."
"I'm Awakener, dumbass. I'm practically superhuman compared to your regular stat ass." He materializes a sword, staring me down. I don't back down, ready to launch from my seat when he makes the first move.