The Road to Somewhere

The road stretches ahead of us, winding through endless fields of golden wheat and patches of wildflowers swaying in the breeze. The sun sits high in the sky, casting long shadows over the dirt path, its warmth seeping into my skin.

It should feel familiar.

This world—my world—should be a place I know.

But it isn't.

The land is beautiful, vibrant, full of life. Yet, to me, it is nothing more than a painting without context, a story whose pages I have never read.

And that unfamiliarity?

It gnaws at me.

I tighten my grip on my sword hilt, the weight of my weapons reassuring against my body.

Beside me, Elias walks with an ease that is both casual and calculated, his long black robes shifting with every step. He is quiet, his gaze flicking between the landscape and me as if he is observing, analysing—waiting.

I do not like it.

It makes me feel watched.

I break the silence first.

"How far is the village?"

Elias hums, thoughtful. "Not sure. There was a village near the starting area in the game, but I never actually played."

I pause mid-step.

"You never—what?"

He glances at me, smirking slightly at my reaction. "I told you, didn't I? I created you and never actually played."

A wave of irritation crawls up my spine.

"You mean to tell me," I say slowly, "that we are both lost?"

His smirk falters. "…I wouldn't call it lost."

"What would you call it, then?"

"A learning experience?"

I scowl. "I could strangle you."

Elias chuckles under his breath, clearly far too entertained by my frustration.

——

The road is long.

And inconveniently heavy.

My weapons are balanced for combat, not for carrying over long distances. The bow across my back is manageable, but my polearm—while a perfect instrument for striking down an enemy—is ridiculously cumbersome to lug around like this.

After a while, I start shifting it from one hand to the other, adjusting my grip, trying to find a position that doesn't make my shoulders ache.

Elias watches.

His gaze lingers for a while before he finally sighs.

"Give it to me."

I glance at him, frowning. "What?"

He gestures toward the polearm in my hands. "The spear. Give it to me."

I hesitate. "You can carry things?"

Elias rolls his eyes. "What do you think I am, a ghost?"

I don't respond right away, mostly because I don't know what he is.

He looks human. He moves like one. His voice, his expressions, his mannerisms—none of it suggests he is anything other than real.

But I know better.

He is not human.

He is my Black Spirit.

A being that should have been a wisp of darkness, floating near my shoulder, whispering in my ear. A guide. A curse.

And yet, here he is—flesh and blood, walking beside me, offering to carry my weapon.

It is wrong.

But it is also convenient.

I huff, reluctantly holding out the polearm. "Fine."

Elias takes it with little effort, adjusting his grip before resting it against his shoulder with a natural ease.

He smirks. "Was that so hard?"

I ignore him and keep walking.

——

We walk for what feels like forever.

The wheat fields give way to patches of rolling hills, the dirt road widening slightly as it curves toward what I assume must be civilization.

The wind carries the distant sound of birds, the rustling of leaves, and the soft weight of silence that settles between us.

And then, out of nowhere—

Elias sighs. Loudly.

"This sucks."

I glance at him, unimpressed. "What sucks?"

He shifts the spear against his shoulder, tilting his head up toward the sky. "Walking. Carrying things. Having a physical body."

I frown. "What do you mean?"

Elias exhales through his nose. "In the game, players had an inventory. A magical storage space where you could dump all your gear without worrying about weight or space. But here? We actually have to carry everything."

I blink.

He keeps talking, mostly to himself now. "No teleportation, no quick travel, no system menus—just endless walking. No wonder NPCs are always complaining about long journeys."

I keep staring at him.

"…You realise I have no idea what you're talking about, right?"

Elias stops walking.

Slowly, slowly, he turns to look at me, as if realizing something deeply concerning for the first time.

"You—" He blinks. "You really don't have any of that, do you?"

I raise a brow. "Any of what?"

His lips parted slightly as if he was trying to find the right words.

Then, with slow, dawning horror, he mutters—

"You don't have a guidance interface."

I stare at him blankly. "A what?"

"Lists. Quest logs. An inventory."

I shake my head.

"Skill trees?"

Another shake.

Elias visibly processes this information.

Then, almost helplessly, he says—

"How do you know how strong you are?"

I blink at him, confused. "I… feel it?"

Elias exhales, running a hand through his hair. "That's—" He stops himself, shaking his head. "No, that actually makes sense. You're real. You were never supposed to see the system stuff."

I frown at the way he says that. "And you were?"

He pauses.

His grip on my polearm tightens just slightly.

Then, after a moment—

"I don't know."

The way he says it—slow, deliberate—sends a shiver down my spine.

——

The road continues.

The air is warm.

The journey is slow.

And in the distance, far beyond the hills, I swear I see the faintest outline of a village waiting for us.

But we are not there yet.

We still have a long way to go.