Reinitializing

"I told you to delay the ritual!" a man's voice, firm and edged with anger, cut through the fog in Giri's mind. "I found his tracks. I would have found him."

Giri's eyes fluttered open, revealing not the rain-soaked forest but a small, simple room. A man with messy black hair sat at a rough wooden table, frustration etched on his face. Beside him was the woman from before, her expression now marked by worry. Across the table sat an older woman, ancient and wrinkled, with hair of white and grey, draped in a long, flowing robe—the same as the hooded figure by the campfire.

Sunlight poured through small windows, brightening the room. It was morning. The rough-hewn log walls, packed with straw and daub, gave it the appearance of a simple shack, yet it was clean and tidy. A few unlit oil lamps hung from the rafters.

As his gaze swept across the room, he noticed another figure. A young woman, likely not even twenty, sat on the edge of his bed. She shared the same shade of blonde hair as his… mother? but hers was shorter, with intricate braids woven around the crown of her head.

"It's fortunate he survived," the old woman said, her voice raspy, like dry leaves skittering across stone. "But I couldn't delay the ritual any longer. Any moment more, those… creatures could have reached the village."

"Fortunate?" The man scoffed, the sound sharp and brittle, like cracking ice. "It's a miracle. That kind of lightning strike… it could take down a Wulfang with a single blow." Giri could feel the tension in the room, thick and heavy like the humid air outside.

The old woman remained silent. Firelight flickered over her wrinkled face, deepening the shadows around her eyes. Her expression was a blend of sternness and something else—perhaps regret? Unapologetic for her choice, she exuded a heaviness of unspoken words.

Then, the young girl on the bed turned. Her blue eyes, wide and luminous in the dim light, met Giri's. A small gasp escaped her lips. "Mom. Dad." Her voice was soft, hesitant, barely a whisper. "He's awake."

The man lowered his voice, the sharp edge still present but now softened. "We should continue this conversation later."

The woman, his… mother, rushed to the side of his bed, her hand hovering hesitantly over his arm before gently resting there. "Are you alright, Vel? You've been sleeping for two days." Giri could see small, dark bags under her eyes. She hadn't slept at all.

The old woman, the one in the robe, gave a curt nod in Giri's direction. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, assessing, before she turned and walked towards the door, the hem of her robe rustling softly against the wooden floor.

The man now stood closer to Giri's bed, near his head, his face etched with a mixture of worry and frustration.* "What on Aeon were you thinking, Vel? Didn't you hear the bells from the guard tower?!"* he scolded, his voice low but still carrying a sharp reprimand.

"Aeon?" Giri's eyes widened, a jolt of disbelief shooting through him. He focused on that single word, the world around him momentarily receding. *Aeon? *

His mother placed a gentle hand on the man's arm. "Dear," she said softly, her voice pleading. "Let's not do this right now."

She turned to the younger woman, who was still looking at Giri with a mixture of concern and something else… curiosity? "You should rest, Landre."

Landre held Giri's gaze for another moment, her blue eyes searching his. Then, with a slow, almost reluctant movement, she stood up and walked away, her footsteps light on the wooden floor.

The mother turned back to Giri, her expression softening. "Your sister hasn't been sleeping either," she whispered, her voice filled with a weary tenderness.

Giri tried to sit up, wincing as a dull ache spread through his back and legs. The sharp pain in his chest was gone, replaced by a deep muscle soreness. He looked at his… mother and father. They were both watching him intently, their expressions a mixture of concern and anticipation, waiting for an answer.

What do I say? His mind raced. He didn't remember anything before waking up in the forest, before the lightning, before… anything. He was a blank slate, inhabiting a child's body with the memories of a man. Think, Giri, think. Then, the pragmatic, problem-solving part of his adult consciousness took over. Let's play dumb for now. It's the safest option.

"I… I don't remember anything," he said, his voice small and hesitant, like a child's.

"Anything?!" His mother's voice was filled with alarm, her hand tightening slightly on his arm. His father's expression turned grave, his brow furrowing.

"Do you know where we are right now, Vel?" his father asked, his voice low and concerned. "Do you even know who we are?" He glanced at his wife, a shared worry passing between them.

"But you knew who I was, right, dear?" his mother added, her voice softer, more pleading. "I heard you… you called me Mom."

Giri's mind raced. He knew they were in a village, and the room certainly felt like a home. But their names… he had no idea. He struggled to find an answer, his mind a blank. Think, think! What's the safest thing to say? He needed to buy time, to gather more information.

He looked around the room again, trying to grasp at any detail that might jog his memory. The rough wooden walls, the flickering fire in the hearth, the scent of woodsmoke… nothing.

He looked back at his parents, their faces etched with worry. He had to say something. He took a deep breath and chose the safest, most obvious answer he could think of. "We're… in the village," he said slowly, his voice still hesitant. "At… home."

As for their names… he couldn't say. He simply didn't know. He swallowed hard, bracing himself for their reaction.

His mother's brow furrowed slightly. "Yes, dear, we're home. In Oakhaven." She paused, her eyes searching his. "And… I'm…?" She trailed off, giving him a gentle nudge.

His father placed a hand on his shoulder, his grip firm but reassuring. "And I'm…?" he echoed, his voice warm but laced with concern.

Giri's mind remained stubbornly blank. Oakhaven. It sounded… vaguely familiar, but nothing concrete came to mind. As for their names… nothing. He felt a wave of panic rising in his chest. He had to say something, anything.

Vel focused on his mother's kind eyes and the worry lines around them, grasping for any memory or connection. A faint image flickered—a warm hand on his forehead, a soft voice humming a lullaby. It was hazy, but it was something.

*"You're… Mom," *he whispered, the word feeling strange and unfamiliar on his tongue. He looked at his father, searching for a similar spark of recognition. Nothing. He felt a lump forming in his throat. He had to be honest, at least partially. "I… I don't remember your name," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

His mother's expression softened, a hint of sadness entering her eyes. "It's Mari, dear," she said gently, her hand tightening slightly on his arm. "I'm your mother, Mari."

His father's hand on his shoulder gave a reassuring squeeze. "And I'm Von, your father." He looked at Giri, his eyes filled with concern. "It's alright, Vel. These things happen sometimes… especially after… well, after what happened."

Mari. The name echoed in Giri's mind. Mari… Wait. He remembered the shout from the gate. "Someone tell Mari, we found him!" That's what the guard had yelled. That's right.

He looked at his father, Von. He was wearing the same type of leather armor as the guards at the gate, with reinforced shoulder guards and thick leather bracers covering his forearms. Giri could see the muscles beneath the leather, taut and strong. A realization dawned on him. You're one of the village guards.

A smile spread across Von's face, a genuine smile that eased some of the worry lines around his eyes. "That's right, Vel," he said, his voice warm and proud. "I am."

Just then, another guard appeared in the doorway, his voice booming through the small room. "Von! The Chief's about to make an important announcement. We need to be there."

Von's smile faded slightly, a look of duty settling on his face. He glanced back at Giri, a mixture of reluctance and concern in his eyes. "See you later, Vel," he said, his voice now more serious. "Duty calls."

He gave Mari a quick nod, a silent message passing between them, before turning and following the guard out of the house. The guard at the door gave Mari and Giri a brief, respectful nod before closing the door behind them.

Mari turned back to Giri, her expression filled with concern. "Are you feeling alright, dear?" she asked softly, her hand gently touching his forehead. "Can you walk?"

Giri wiggled his toes, then flexed his feet, testing his legs. A dull ache remained in his muscles, but the sharp pain was gone. "Yes, I think I can, Mom," he replied.

Mari's brow furrowed slightly. His response, while reassuring, sounded… different. A tad too formal, too polite. It wasn't like Vel at all.

"Good," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of confusion. "Next time, when you hear the bells, you come straight back to the village, okay?" Her tone shifted to one of gentle scolding. "You don't wander too far from the village without a grown-up, Vel. It's not safe."

Giri simply nodded. He didn't know what else to say. He was still trying to process everything that had happened. Then, a question surfaced in his mind. "What… what happens when the bells ring, Mom?" he asked, his voice small and hesitant.

Mari's gaze shifted to the window for a moment, a fleeting shadow of worry crossing her face before she turned back to Giri. "The bells mean danger, Vel. Immediate danger. It's a signal for everyone to take shelter, to prepare for the worst." She paused, her voice becoming lower, more serious. "This time… it was the worst kind. One of the Seers—they sensed disturbances in the… the veil, we call it—he felt something… bad coming through."

She took a deep breath, her hands tightening in her lap. "Monsters, Vel. creatures from… somewhere else. They were coming for Oakhaven. Kazar"—she nodded towards the door where the old woman had gone— "she had to act. She performed the Stormbringer ritual. It calls down the lightning, a protective measure to keep the creatures away. It's… powerful. But it's indiscriminate. Anything outside the village's protection risks being struck." Her eyes met Giri's, a look of deep concern in them.

The word "Stormbringer" resonated in Giri's mind. He knew that name. In Aeonalus, it was a mid-tier evocation spell, typically wielded by magic caster. A wide-area effect, channeling atmospheric energy into a series of lightning strikes that targeted random hostile entities within the spell's radius. He didn't recall it being a ritual, though. It was a channeled spell, pure arcane energy manipulation.

Then, another fragment of information surfaced. Shaman… They'd been introduced in the Awakened expansion. Not a core class, but more of a specialized archetype, tied to the new lore. Shamans operated on different principles than usual mages. They didn't directly manipulate mana through incantations and gestures. They used components like herbs, stones and sigils in elaborate rituals to channel natural forces. Unlike mages who shaped magic through will alone, Shamans needed careful preparation. Their magic demanded sacrifice.

He recalled the campfire and chanting figures from when he'd been carried in. They were part of the ritual, serving as conduits. The Stormbringer's massive scale proved this was no minor spell, but a high-level ritual demanding substantial resources.

Then, another detail clicked into place. The Rifts. That was it. The core mechanic of Aeonalus. Unstable rifts between dimensions, constantly needing to be monitored and contained. Left unattended, they would leak energy, attracting hostile entities from other planes. And then… they would spawn. Monsters, pouring out into the world. That was the constant threat, the driving force behind most of the game's quests and storylines.

Mari's voice broke through his thoughts. She was looking out the window, her gaze fixed on the now-clear sky. Then, she turned back to him, her expression still etched with worry. "Are you sure you're alright, Vel?" she asked, her voice soft. "I need to get back to the farm. We need to make sure the crops are alright after the downpour."

Giri blinked, snapping back to the present. He looked down at his small hands, then slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed. He stood up, his legs still a little shaky, but he managed to maintain his balance. "I'm fine," he said, trying to sound reassuring. "It's okay, Mom. I'll see you later."

Mari approached him, a gentle smile gracing her lips. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Be good, alright?" she murmured, her voice filled with affection. She then picked up a simple straw hat that was lying nearby, gave Giri one last lingering look, and then exited the room, closing the door softly behind her.

Giri was left alone in the quiet room. A strange mix of emotions swirled within him. This woman… Mari. He didn't know her. Not really. Yet, her caring demeanor, the gentle touch of her hand, the kiss on his forehead… it evoked a powerful sense of warmth within him. A feeling he hadn't experienced in… well, he couldn't remember. It was as if a deep, primal part of him recognized her, trusted her implicitly. As if he could trust this woman with his life. It was unsettling, this immediate and unconditional trust for a stranger, but it was also… comforting.

The comfort vanished as cold dread seized him. Mom. Her worried face, lit with hope, flashed in his mind. The promise to visit... Did I really die? The thought pierced him like ice. He couldn't bear imagining her receiving the news, the devastation it would bring.

And Dad, alone in the elderly home. Who will check on him now? The guilt of abandoning them crushed his chest. I can't leave them.

His thoughts spiraled, chaotic and overwhelming. Tears cut through the grime on his face. This isn't real.

Pain shot through his chest, stealing his breath. He clutched at it with his small hand, struggling to breathe as grief consumed him. His legs gave way, and he crumpled to his knees, head bowed as tears fell freely.

It's real.

The thought surfaced, but he tried to push it away, as if denying it would make it false. But it clung to him, relentless, whispering in the spaces between his ragged breaths.

I'm gone.

The weight of it was suffocating. His real life—his mother's warm laughter, his father's steady voice, the hum of the city, the comforting glow of his monitor—vanished in an instant. He tried to hold on to the memories, but they felt distant, slipping through his grasp like sand through open fingers.

I'll never see her smile again… never hear his stories.

His body trembled, a deep, aching hollowness expanding in his chest. A life left behind, erased. The promise to visit. The call he never made. The routine he thought would always be there. His family, his world—snatched away. And in its place, this. This small body, this strange room, this unfamiliar world that smelled of damp straw and old wood.

No more visits. No more conversations. No more… them.

His breathing hitched. He curled his fingers into the fabric of his tunic, seeking some kind of anchor, something to tether him to reality before the grief swallowed him whole. But the more he focused on it, the more he realized—this wasn't fading. The warmth of his own skin, the cool press of the wooden floor beneath him, the distant murmur of voices outside…

This was real.

A quiet shudder ran through him. The panic clawing at his chest began to dull—not because the loss hurt any less, but because something deeper, something instinctual, began to take root.

He had spent years building systems, designing worlds, debugging problems. He was a problem solver. And right now, his biggest problem wasn't his grief. It was the fact that he didn't understand what had happened to him.

His pulse steadied.

If this was real, then that meant there was logic to it. A cause. A reason.

If there was a way in…

He exhaled, the breath still shaky but more controlled.

…then there might be a way out.

His fingers loosened their grip on his tunic. His tears slowed. The ache in his chest remained, but it no longer felt like an endless abyss. It was still there, but so was something else—something sharper, more focused.

I need to understand this world.

Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe it was a hyper-realistic simulation, an anomaly in the system, a glitch in the game's code. Or maybe… he really was trapped within Aeonalus itself.

Either way, the answer wouldn't come from drowning in despair. It would come from observation, from learning, from adapting.

Vel inhaled deeply and wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. His hands were still shaking, but his mind was clear.

If this world thought it could swallow him whole, it was wrong.

He wasn't done yet.

One step at a time. That's how he'd always approached problems, from coding complex game mechanics to navigating difficult family situations to dealing with demanding coworkers. He would analyze, strategize, and persevere. He would not give up. He'd never given up before. Not on his game, not on his family, not on himself.

Why should he give up now?

With renewed determination, he wiped the remaining tears from his face, pushing himself to his feet. He swayed slightly, his legs still weak, but he steadied himself. I need information. He thought, his mind now focused on the task at hand. I know the where—this village, Aeonalus. But I need to know the how, the why, and the when.

He looked around the room, taking stock. It was a simple space, clearly serving as both a living room and bedroom. His bed, a simple mattress on a wooden frame, was pushed against one wall. On the opposite side of the room, another similar bed sat neatly made, Landre sleeping soundly beneath a thin blanket.

Giri glanced through the small window. Narrow alleyways wound between single-story wooden and straw houses, their bases lined with rough stones. Iron hinges shimmered on doors, and the uneven dirt road bore the marks of countless footsteps. A faint scent of smoke hung in the air, anchoring him in a strangely vivid reality. It felt like Aeonalus—and it was unmistakably not his old world.

This is Oakhaven, he thought, remembering the name Mari had spoken. But I don't remember ever hearing that name before.

His mind, trained to analyze and debug complex systems, began to sift through the fragments of his memory. Programming instincts kicked in, forcing him to reconstruct the sequence of events. Recall previous states.

He was in the S.I.P. room. The machine… had it malfunctioned? Or had it been compromised? It didn't matter now. What mattered was the result. He had felt it. The searing pain, the overwhelming surge of energy… it had killed him. He was certain of it. The faint sound of footsteps he'd vaguely registered just before… they were irrelevant now.

He had been electrocuted. He had died.

Vel had also been struck by lightning, Mari had said. And judging by the state he was in, Vel had likely died as well.

Giri had a father, a mother, a sister. Vel also had a father, a mother, and a sister. A coincidence? Unlikely. The odds were astronomically small.

A theory began to form in his mind, a working hypothesis based on the limited data he had. It was a long shot, a wild guess, but it was the only explanation that seemed to fit. Somehow, the events in the S.I.P. room and the lightning strike had intersected, creating a… a transfer. His consciousness, his very being, had been moved. Transferred. Into Vel.

In the language of the anime and games Giri'd enjoyed, this was what they called Isekai. Reincarnation into another world. Except… this wasn't some fantastical story. This was his reality now. He'd been trying to connect to Aeonalus, to experience its world in a way no one else had. And now… he was in it. Or at least, in something that resembled it far too closely.

But this was too real. No VR technology, no matter how advanced, could possibly create a world this tangible, this immersive. The sheer amount of detail was staggering. The rough grain of the wood beneath his fingers, the individual fibers in the woven blanket on Landre's bed, the way the sunlight filtered through the dust motes in the air… it was all rendered with a level of fidelity that defied explanation. To simulate a world like this, with every tiny detail accounted for, would require near-impossible data storage. Exabytes? Zettabytes? Even those astronomical figures seemed insufficient to contain the sheer volume of information that would be necessary to create this reality. The air he breathed, the wood he touched, the pain he felt… it was all undeniably real.

He stared blankly ahead, lost in thought, his expression distant. Then, a sudden realization snapped him back to the present.

I am Vel now.

The boy who would be dead, if not for… whatever had happened. His consciousness now resided in this child's body. This was his reality now.

Vel looked around the small house, a frown creasing his brow. So, this is it, he thought. My grand return to a world I created. No fanfare, no dramatic entrance. Just… this. He glanced at a chipped wooden bowl on the table. Definitely not the epic Isekai adventure I envisioned.

If something as improbable as this could happen… then what else was possible?

Is this a story? he wondered, his mind briefly entertaining the idea. Am I a character in a story? Or… am I still in a game? But a game that's become… real? He even briefly considered the possibility of an audience, some unseen observers watching his every move. Are they… entertained?

He quickly dismissed the thought, a wry smile twisting his lips. That's ridiculous, he thought. Utterly ridiculous. Who would be watching? And why? He shook his head slightly. I'm getting carried away. I need to focus on the problem at hand. This is real. This is my life now. Whatever it is.

Vel took a deep breath, the fleeting moment of philosophical contemplation over. He needed to focus. He turned and slowly walked towards the door, his hand reaching for the latch. He wanted to get outside, to take a closer look at this world, to confirm with his own eyes that it was truly as real as it felt.

Then, a soft voice called out from behind him. "Vel?"

He turned to see Landre sitting up in her bed, her blue eyes wide and slightly confused. She was awake, alerted by the creak of the opening door.

"Where are you going?" she asked, her voice still sleepy.

Vel hesitated, then offered a simple explanation. "I… just wanted to see our village."

Landre's brow furrowed.

"Going out already?" She pushed the blankets aside and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, stretching with a small groan.

"Hold on," she said, her voice laced with a mixture of concern and something else… perhaps lingering hurt. "Mom told me to keep an eye on you, yes, but…" She hesitated, her blue eyes meeting his. "There's something we need to talk about." Her expression turned serious. "About… before."

A few minutes later, the door creaked open, revealing the bright morning light. The house, from the outside, was a simple, rectangular structure built of roughly hewn logs and daub. The roof was thatched with straw, slightly uneven and patched in several places. A small, roughly constructed chimney poked out from one side, a wisp of smoke still curling from it. A single, small window, similar to the one in their room, was visible on the front wall.

Landre stepped out first, followed by Vel. She immediately took his hand, her small fingers wrapping around his. Vel felt a strange sensation, a mix of awkwardness and… something else. He rarely held hands with girls. The last time… it must have been years ago. But then he remembered. This was Landre. His sister. Just like Hanna. The thought brought a small, almost imperceptible softening to his expression.

They started walking, following a well-worn path that led out of the small alley where their house was situated and towards what seemed to be the main hub of the village.

"Where did you want to go?" Landre asked, her voice light.

Vel suddenly felt a pang of… restriction. A loss of the freedom he was used to. But then he reminded himself: he was in a child's body now. He had to adapt. And this was also an opportunity. Landre, as his sister, would likely know more about this world than anyone else.

"Landre," Vel began, then paused, trying to sound casual, "what's the history of our village?"

Landre stopped walking, her hand tightening around his. She turned to face him, her blue eyes wide with surprise

"What's gotten into you, Vel?" she asked, her voice soft and hesitant. "Why… why aren't you calling me 'Lan-neechan' anymore? Are you… still upset?"

Bathed in the morning sunlight, Vel finally got a good look at Landre. She was… beautiful. Her blonde hair, neatly styled, shimmered in the light. She wore a similar outfit to their mother—a long-sleeved white undershirt beneath a blue and leather dress, though Landre's had more intricate stitching and details, cinched at the waist by a simple leather belt. The sight almost made Vel's heart skip a beat. It was a strange sensation, a mix of appreciation and… something else.

"Sorry," Vel mumbled, forcing a sheepish grin. "I guess I haven't fully recovered from… what happened. It seems some memories are still finding their way back."

A frown creased Landre's brow, a look of guilt shadowing her features. "You really don't remember it?" she asked, her voice soft and laced with worry.

Vel shook his head slowly, trying to appear genuinely confused.

Landre sighed, her gaze shifting to the ground. "We… we had a fight," she mumbled, her voice barely audible. "Right before the bells rang." She looked back up at him, her blue eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and regret.

"And then… you ran away."

Vel looked at Landre, seeing the weight of guilt in her eyes. "A fight?" he asked softly, trying to sound genuinely curious. "What… what was it about?"

Landre hesitated, her gaze shifting to the dirt path beneath their feet. "It was… about this," she mumbled, reaching into the neckline of her dress and pulling out a small, roughly carved piece of wood. It was a complex design: a large triangle framing a smaller, inverted triangle, all enclosed within a rough circle divided into seven segments. One of the lines dividing the segments was jagged and uneven. "I… I was trying to make an amulet," she continued.

Vel's brow furrowed. He recognized the symbol, though he couldn't place it. It was… vaguely familiar, like something he'd seen in a history book or perhaps in Aeonalus lore.

"I was using your knife," Landre continued, her voice barely above a whisper, her fingers tracing the jagged line on the wooden carving. "The one Dad gave you. The one with the wolf's head. And… I messed it up." She looked up at him, her eyes pleading for understanding. "I chipped the blade. Trying to get this part just right."

"You know what my dream is, Vel," she said, her voice filled with a quiet intensity. "I want to become a Saint. To serve the… to serve and help people in our village." She paused, taking a shaky breath. "So I need to start working for the church. This… this amulet was supposed to be a symbol of my commitment. A way to show them I'm serious."

She looked down at the damaged carving again, her expression filled with disappointment. "And then… you got so angry. You said… I was always messing with your things, that I didn't respect them. And then you just… left." She looked back at him, her blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I tried to call you back, but you wouldn't listen. And then… the bells started ringing."

"Where…where's the knife?" Vel asked, his voice soft.

Landre's expression turned even more apologetic.

"You… you were so angry," she mumbled, her gaze dropping to the dirt path beneath their feet. "You threw it. At me."

She reached into a small pocket in her dress and pulled out the sheathed knife, offering it to him.

"Here."

Vel took the knife. The smooth leather of the sheath felt familiar in his hand. This Vel is one freaking dumb kid, he thought, shaking his head slightly. He examined the sheath, noting the worn edges and the faint scratches on the leather. Then, he carefully drew the knife. The blade was indeed chipped near the tip, a small but noticeable imperfection that marred the otherwise well-maintained edge. He looked back at Landre, his expression softening.

"You know, Lan-neechan," he said gently, using the familiar term she'd mentioned earlier, "from now on, if you want anything, simply tell me. Don't hold back. I promise I'll never lose my temper over things like this again. Not once."

He paused, then added,

"In fact… you can keep the knife."

Landre's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise and then a hesitant joy in them.

"No," she said quickly, shaking her head, her blonde braids swaying slightly. "It's yours. It was Dad's gift to you. I can't take it."

Despite her words, a small smile played on her lips, and Vel could see she was clearly pleased by the offer.

"So," Vel began, shifting the knife in his hand. "After I… ran off… what happened then? With the bells and everything?"

Landre waved a hand dismissively, her good mood seemingly restored.

"Oh, that," she said, her voice lighter. "It's all right now. What were you asking me again, Vel?"

"It's…the history of our village," Vel replied.

"Right," Landre said, nodding. They started walking again, the dirt path winding between the simple houses. Landre began to explain.

"This village, Oakhaven, belongs to the Iz'mir Kingdom. It's one of the five major kingdoms. The capital city, Lona, is right in the center of the kingdom. It's a huge, well-protected city, with impenetrable walls wrapped all the way around it. That's where the… well, the special people live. Mostly nobles and those close to the royal family."

She paused, kicking at a small stone in the path.

"As Lona grew, the population increased so much that there wasn't enough room for everyone inside the walls. So, the King started what he calls the 'Expansion Campaign.' He ordered many settlements built far away from the city, trying to expand the size of the kingdom itself. Places like Oakhaven."

She gestured around at the simple houses.

"But these lands…" she continued, her voice becoming slightly more somber, "…they're mostly unexplored. And sometimes… dangerous. While we're technically under the King's rule, we're mostly independent. It's almost like we're exiles, forced to live outside the safety of the walls."

She looked at Vel, her expression serious.

"If a settlement does well, if it grows and prospers, then the kingdom will eventually send support – supplies, soldiers, maybe even some officials. They'll officially incorporate the area into the kingdom's territory."

Her voice dropped to a near whisper.

"But some settlements… they aren't so lucky. They get destroyed. Raided by bandits, sometimes even wiped out by monsters."

Inside Vel's head, Giri's memories stirred. Lona… He knew that name. In Aeonalus, it was a major hub, a central gathering point for players. A sprawling metropolis that boasted everything a player could need: guild headquarters, bustling marketplaces, grand cathedrals, even a massive military training center. It was a place of opportunity, a symbol of the kingdom's strength.

But something didn't add up. In the game, Lona was designed to be self-sustaining. Its strategic location and abundant resources meant it shouldn't have had any issues with overpopulation. The idea of people being forced to live outside the walls due to lack of space… it was completely foreign to Giri's memories of the game.

That doesn't make sense, he thought, a frown creasing his brow. Lona was designed to be self-sufficient. It shouldn't be overcrowded.

He looked at Landre, trying to reconcile her description with his memories.

"So… we're not… noble?" Vel asked, carefully choosing his words. "Despite being… from Lona?"

Landre shook her head, a hint of weariness in her eyes.

"No, Vel," she said, her voice matter-of-fact. "We're generations after the Expansion Campaign started. The nobles and the royal family, they live in the inner layer of the capital. Inside the main walls. The outer layers… those are for the rich merchants, the wealthy landowners, people like that."

She paused, gesturing vaguely towards the horizon.

"And then… even further out, there are more layers, for regular residents. And then… well, after that… anyone who can't find a place to live in the capital, they're… encouraged to leave. To join settlements like Oakhaven."

Giri considered this. It actually made a strange sort of sense. He'd meticulously designed the city of Lona, crafted its history and background, ensured the lore was consistent and engaging. But he'd overlooked one crucial aspect: the passage of time.

It was understandable, really. In a game, time was often compressed, events happening much faster than they would in reality. Simulating the slow, gradual changes that occur over generations—the growth of cities, the shifts in social structures, the evolution of cultures—was incredibly complex, bordering on impossible. It was like trying to predict the future. How each kingdom would grow, how its population would shift, how its policies would change… it was beyond his ability to foresee.

Of course, he thought, a sense of dawning realization washing over him. I created the initial conditions, but I didn't account for how those conditions would evolve over time.

As he thought, something struck him. Wait… Time. He looked up at Landre, a sudden urgency in his expression.

"Do you know the King's name?" Vel asked quickly.

"Of course," Landre replied, looking at him strangely. "Everyone knows the King's name. King Korivan Garnos the Seventh."

"The Seventh?" Vel repeated, his mind racing. The Awakened update had mentioned a General Garnos, a key figure who provided assistance to players and offered multiple questlines. Don't tell me…

"How long has it been since the first Garnos King?" Vel asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"About five hundred years, I think," Landre replied, shrugging slightly.

A strange feeling washed over Giri. Five hundred years. Five centuries had passed since the events of the Awakened update. No wonder the world was so different. No wonder Lona was overcrowded. Five hundred years was an eternity in game terms. Entire empires could rise and fall in that time.

No wonder, he thought, a sense of dawning realization settling in. Five hundred years have passed since the events in the Awakened update. Which means everything I know about this world would have changed drastically. This is going to complicate things.

"Why are you suddenly so interested in all this, Vel?" Landre asked, tilting her head slightly. "It's not like you can understand all of it."

Vel scrambled for an excuse. He couldn't tell her the truth—that he was from another world and knew the history of this place from a game. He needed something believable, something a child might say.

"I… I just want to know more about where we live," he stammered, trying to sound innocent. "Mom always tells stories about the kingdom, about Lona and the King. I just… wanted to know more about how it all connects to us." He added quickly, "Especially after… you know… what happened. It made me think."

"Maybe… maybe I want to visit Lona," Vel said, the idea suddenly solidifying in his mind. A city as vast and important as Lona… it had to hold answers. Perhaps even a way back to his own world.

Landre stopped walking abruptly, turning back to face Vel, her expression a mix of surprise and gentle mockery.

"What?" she asked, a slight incredulity in her voice.

"There's no chance for us there, Vel," she continued, shaking her head slightly. "How are you even going to make a living in Lona? It's… it's a completely different world."

She paused, her expression softening slightly.

"For me," she said, looking off into the distance, "unless I get accepted by the church and climb the ranks… maybe, one day, I could provide a place for our family there. But as for us… right now…" She trailed off, dismissing the idea with a wave of her hand.

The thought of her own ambitions seemed to take hold of Landre's mind, her gaze becoming distant as she drifted into her own thoughts.

As they both stood there, lost in their own contemplations, a firm shout echoed through the village. It came from a group of guards, gathered in neat lines near the center of the settlement.

"Look, it's Father," Landre said, her attention snapping back to the present.

Vel looked over. A group of guards stood at attention, saluting a man standing on a raised wooden platform. He was likely the Chief of the village, judging by the way he commanded the guards' attention, meticulously ensuring their lines were straight and their posture perfect.

The announcement, Vel thought, remembering the guard's words to Von.

He gestured to Landre to walk closer to the gathering. Landre seemed equally curious about the announcement. They both started walking towards the gathering, joining the other villagers who were also converging on the central area.

Vel did a quick headcount. There were roughly thirty guards in total, all wearing similar, functional-looking armor – perhaps boiled leather reinforced with metal plates at the shoulders and knees. He scanned the lines, trying to spot Von, but couldn't pick him out. He'd only seen the man once this morning, after all, and that was through Vel's eyes, not his own.

"There," Landre whispered, pointing discreetly. "Fifth from the right, second row."

The crowd hushed as the Chief raised his hand, signaling for silence. He stood tall on the wooden platform, his voice clear and authoritative as it carried across the village square.

"Residents of Oakhaven," he began, his gaze sweeping across the assembled villagers, "I have called you here today to address a matter of grave importance."

He paused, his expression becoming more serious.

"As you all know, a portal has manifested nearby. This is not a trivial matter. It's a significant threat to the very existence of our village. A threat of… life and death. Many settlements have perished due to similar occurrences."

A wave of worried whispers rippled through the crowd.

"I have consulted with our Seers," the Chief continued, his voice regaining its firmness, "and we have devised a plan. We will attempt to make contact with the Adventurers' Guild in Elnor, the nearest town. Hopefully," he added, a hint of hope in his voice, "we can persuade some skilled adventurers to come and close the portal."

He paused again, his gaze briefly shifting towards the lines of guards.

"In the meantime," he said, his voice becoming more stern, "I urge everyone to remain vigilant. All children will be monitored strictly." He paused, his gaze lingering on Von for a moment, but the guard remained impassive, his posture ramrod straight. "Any activity outside the village walls will require an escort of at least two guards. In the worst-case scenario, we will be forced to perform another ritual."

He addressed the guards directly.

"The rest of you, please spread this news to anyone who is not yet aware. You are dismissed. Return to your duties."

The guards saluted in unison before dispersing, some moving to spread the word throughout the village, others resuming their patrols. The crowd of villagers began to disperse as well, murmuring amongst themselves.

As they approached, they could see him more clearly. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with weathered features and a stern but kind expression. He wore the same type of armor as the other guards, but his was slightly more ornate, with additional metal plating and a small emblem on his shoulder.

He noticed them approaching and a warm smile spread across his face.

"Vel! Landre!" he called out, his voice booming slightly. He opened his arms and both children ran to him, embracing him tightly.

"Did you hear the Chief's announcement?" he asked, his voice now softer as he held them close.

Yes, Father," Landre replied, nodding solemnly.

"We did," Vel added, his mind still reeling from the implications of the portal.

Their father sighed, his expression turning grave. He knelt down, placing a hand on each of their shoulders.

"Things are going to be different for a while," he said, his voice low and serious. "Because of this… portal… things are more dangerous now. You both need to be extra careful."

He looked at them, his eyes filled with concern.

"No going outside the walls without a guard, understand? Not even to the edge of the forest. And stay close to home. I don't want either of you wandering off."

He paused, then added,

"This… this isn't like the usual monster sightings. This is… different. This could be very serious."

"Yes, Father," Landre replied, nodding solemnly.

Vel nodded as well, but his mind was racing. Portals… creatures… He knew exactly what that meant. This was his creation, after all. He'd designed the lore, the monsters, the very fabric of this world. He knew what kinds of horrors could crawl through those rifts between dimensions.

He remembered the mechanics he'd implemented in Aeonalus. Some Portals were unstable conduits, spewing forth increasingly powerful creatures based on how long they remained open. The longer a portal remained active, the greater the risk. And if it was left unchecked for too long… well, that's how entire zones in the game became corrupted, overrun by monstrous hordes.

He looked back at his father, his brow furrowed slightly.

"What makes this different, Father?" Vel asked, trying to keep his voice steady. "You said it's not like the usual monster sightings."

Their father sighed, his gaze drifting towards the distant hills.

"The usual monster sightings," he explained, his voice low, "are… well, they're usually just beasts. Animals driven out of the forest, or perhaps some stray creature that's wandered too far from its territory. We can usually handle them with a few guards."

He looked back at them, his expression grave.

"But this… this is a portal. Not just some magical occurrence or a stray beast. It's a tear in the fabric of reality. It connects… other places. Other realities."

He paused, choosing his words carefully.

"Things that come through portals… they aren't bound by the natural laws of this world. They can be… anything. Beasts, yes, but also… other things. Things we don't understand. Things that are… unnatural."

He lowered his voice even further, almost to a whisper.

"Some say that portals can even bring forth creatures from the Outer Void. Things that drive men mad just by looking at them.

Inside Vel's head, Giri's thoughts raced. So, at least this hasn't changed much from the game, he thought. Everything their father had mentioned—the distinction between normal monsters and portal creatures, the whispers of the Outer Void—it was all consistent with the lore he'd created for Aeonalus. He knew what to expect.

Normal monsters that naturally inhabited this realm were generally weak, easily dispatched by even low-level adventurers. There were a few exceptions, of course, powerful beasts that could pose a threat, but they were rare. Think of them as early-game enemies, designed to challenge new players.

The portals, however… those were a different story entirely. In Aeonalus, portals were designed as party-based content, requiring coordinated teamwork and strategic planning. The difficulty was significantly higher. Even experienced players, playing as powerful adventurers, could still fail to close a portal if they weren't careful.

And if the guards here were equivalent to in-game NPCs… Giri's stomach churned. The chances of them successfully defending the village against a portal-spawned incursion were abysmal. NPCs were simply not designed to handle that level of threat.

Giri felt a surge of worry. If only there was a way for him to gauge the strength of the guards, to get a sense of their "level," as it were. That would give him a better understanding of just how dire their situation truly was.

Then an idea struck him. He looked up at his father.

"Father," Vel asked, tilting his head slightly, "do you know any… martial arts?"

His father chuckled, a warm sound that Vel hadn't heard in… well, he couldn't remember.

"Yes," his father replied. "I know a few sword art moves. Why? Are you interested in learning?"

Vel played along, a small smile forming on his face.

"Yes, Father," he said enthusiastically. "What's the strongest move you can perform?"

His father puffed out his chest slightly, a hint of pride in his voice.

"Well," he said, "I can manage a few rounds of Whirlwind Blade and a decent Air Cutter."

That was… surprising. Those were mid-tier sword arts, not the basic, low-tier moves that normal NPC guards would use. Wait, Giri thought, his mind racing. Unless… unless my father is an Elite NPC.

"Can everyone else do that too?" Vel asked, trying to sound casual.

His father laughed, shaking his head.

"Of course not," he said, a touch of playful boasting in his voice. "Your father is special. It's just me and a few others who can perform those techniques."

Based on this information, Giri made a quick calculation. Whirlwind Blade and Air Cutter… those were skills typically learned around level 20-25 in Aeonalus. If his father could perform them proficiently, that put him somewhere around level 25. And if the other guards couldn't use those skills, they were likely in the level 10-15 range, the standard level for basic guards.

The lowest level of a portal monster was 30. That was a five-level gap.

As the former game master of Aeonalus, Giri knew exactly what that meant. A five-level gap was significant, though not insurmountable. Sometimes players could manage to clear content while underleveled, but it required perfect strategy, flawless execution, and a healthy dose of luck.

But even with perfect strategy, there was still the element of trial and error. Knowing the enemies' weaknesses was crucial, and that often came from experience, from observing their attack patterns and vulnerabilities. The guards wouldn't have that luxury. They'd be facing these creatures for the first time, with no prior knowledge of their abilities.

If a confrontation broke out… how could he convey his knowledge to them? How could he tell them about the monsters' weaknesses, their attack patterns, their vulnerabilities, without revealing his true nature? He couldn't just suddenly start spouting game mechanics and monster stats. They'd think he was crazy.

Vel's mind raced, trying to find a solution.

As he was deep in thought, a firm voice boomed across the square.

"Von!"

It was the Chief.

"Didn't you hear my orders?"

Von, caught up in the conversation with his children, had almost completely forgotten his duty. He snapped to attention, quickly saluting the Chief. He cast a brief, apologetic look at Vel and Landre before hurrying back towards the other guards.

Vel watched him go, then glanced at the Chief. The Chief's gaze was fixed on him for a moment—a stern, unwavering look that sent a shiver down Vel's spine. Then, without a word, the Chief turned and slowly walked back towards his cabin, a small, sturdy building near the center of the village square.

"We should head back home," Landre said wearily, her voice soft. "Mom will know about the news soon enough."

Vel nodded absently, his mind still grappling with the problem at hand. There was no guarantee that the monsters spawning from the portal would be level 30. It could always be higher. But if they truly were in a low-level zone, then level 30 seemed like a reasonable starting point.

He just needed to know what kind of portal it was. In Aeonalus, there were different types of portals, each with its own unique characteristics and associated dangers. Some were small, unstable rifts that spawned only a few weak creatures. Others were massive, swirling vortexes that could unleash hordes of powerful monsters.

The only way to find out… was to take a look himself. Or, perhaps, ask someone who had already seen it. He pondered this as they walked back towards their house, the weight of responsibility settling heavily on his young shoulders.

The days that followed the Chief's announcement were filled with a tense undercurrent of fear and uncertainty. The village, once a place of simple routines and quiet evenings, now buzzed with anxious whispers and watchful eyes.

(Day 1)

The village square was abuzz with activity. Boys Landre's age, emboldened by the recent events and perhaps hoping to impress her, were putting on displays of their skills. One boy, Elric, showed off his archery prowess, hitting a distant target with practiced ease. Another, Finn, presented her with a small bouquet of wildflowers he'd gathered from the edge of the forest (carefully escorted by two guards, of course). Landre politely thanked them, her responses brief and polite, her mind clearly elsewhere. Elric's arrows and Finn's flowers were met with polite smiles, but her eyes held no spark of interest, leaving the boys embarrassed in front of their friends. She wasn't bothered in the slightest that she was of age and hadn't found a love interest. Her focus was singular. She spent most of her time at the small village shrine, diligently studying ancient texts and practicing her prayers.

(Day 2)

Vel, meanwhile, was struggling to adapt. His adult mind was trapped in a child's body, a constant source of frustration. Simple tasks like chopping wood or carrying water felt awkward and clumsy. He couldn't even properly hold the carving knife without feeling a phantom weight in his adult hand. He was trying to read a notice posted on the village notice board—something about new patrol schedules—but the symbols were completely foreign. He frowned, tracing one of the unfamiliar characters with his finger. It was then that the realization hit him: he couldn't read. The language of this world, while familiar in its spoken form, was completely different in its written form. Giri, the creator of Aeonalus, the architect of its lore and history, couldn't decipher the simplest written word. He had designed the concept of language for the game, but the actual written form was a detail filled in by the world itself.

"What are you doing, Vel?" Landre asked, approaching him.

"I… I can't read this," he admitted, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck.

Landre tilted her head, then pointed to a few of the symbols.

"That's 'patrol,' and that one means 'north gate,'" she explained patiently.

(Day 3)

Tension mounted in the village as guards increased their patrols, faces grim. Rumors circulated about strange lights and sounds near the portal. Though the Chief had contacted Elnor, aid remained uncertain. Landre prayed more intensely at the shrine while Vel observed, his stomach churning. He struggled to find a way to investigate the portal without drawing attention, the burden of his secret knowledge growing heavier.

The fourth day after the Chief's announcement dawned under heavy gloom. Thick, low-hanging clouds obscured the sun, casting long shadows across the village. The air was thick with moisture, promising rain.

Vel bounced up from his bed, instantly awake. Right, the Seers, he thought, the idea from the previous night returning in full force. They were the ones who had detected the portal's presence. They were the key. He needed to talk to them.

But how do I even start that conversation? he wondered. "Hey, I know you detected a reality-rending rift because I designed them in a video game"? Probably not the best opener. He briefly considered asking Landre for help. She seemed to have a good rapport with some of the village elders, perhaps she could introduce him. He looked around the small house. It was empty. Everyone had likely already gone out to their daily tasks. The gloomy morning mirrored the growing unease in his heart.

Well, no time like the present, he thought, pulling his thin tunic tighter around himself against the morning chill. He shivered slightly. Besides, if no one's home, no one can stop me. He gave a small, almost imperceptible smirk, a flicker of Giri's old confidence showing through.

The path to the Seers' dwelling wasn't difficult to find. It was a small, secluded hut on the edge of the village, nestled amongst a cluster of ancient oak trees. The trees themselves seemed older than the village, their gnarled branches reaching towards the sky like skeletal fingers. The air around them felt heavy, almost… still. As he approached, he noticed a faint wisp of smoke curling from the hut's chimney, suggesting that someone was inside. He hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and walked towards the rough wooden door.

He raised his hand and knocked firmly.

No one answered. He knocked again, a little louder this time. Still nothing. Did I get the wrong house? he wondered, tilting his head to look at the surrounding trees. The gnarled branches and thick moss clinging to the bark certainly fit the description he'd heard. Or maybe no one's home after all.

Just as he was about to give up and try again later, he heard an unusual commotion coming from the direction of the village gate. It was the sound of many voices, a mix of excited chatter and confused murmurs, much louder than the usual village sounds.

Curiosity piqued, Vel turned and started walking towards the gate. As he approached, he could see a small crowd gathering near the entrance. And then he saw them. A group of people, clearly from outside the village, were entering through the gate. Their faces were unfamiliar, their features distinct, and their outfits… well, they stood out like brightly colored birds in a flock of sparrows.

Vel walked closer to the gate, drawn by the commotion. As he got a better look, Giri quickly scanned the newcomers. There were four of them.

One was a hulking figure of a man, his muscles bulging from head to toe. He was bald, with thick, corded veins visible on his head and arms, and wore nothing but animal furs wrapped around his body.

Another wore an elegant robe, white at the edges and predominantly green in the main body. A small, leather-bound book hung from a strap on his back.

A third was clad in sleek, comfortable-looking leather armor, quite different from the guards' more practical gear. A wide-brimmed hat with a single, brightly colored feather tucked into the band sat atop her head. A small hand crossbow was strapped to the back of her belt. It was a woman, with sharp features and a confident air.

The last one wore full plate armor, except for her head, which revealed a woman with short, practical brown hair and a determined look. A large, two-handed sword was strapped to her back, its hilt rising above her shoulder.

Vel looked closer and spotted something else, a detail he hadn't noticed at first glance. Each of them wore a small, square trinket. Some wore it on a chain around their neck, others had it attached to their belt or pinned to their chest.

No mistaking it, Giri thought, his heart quickening. It's an Adventurer's Card. Every registered adventurer in Aeonalus was issued one. It was used to track their progress, record their completed quests, and display their rank within the Adventurers' Guild.

The woman in full plate armor had a light blue card. The bald man carried a yellow one. Both the robed man and the woman in leather had white cards.

By their appearance and equipment, Giri quickly made some deductions based on his extensive knowledge of Aeonalus.

The woman in full plate armor, with her practical demeanor and large sword, was almost certainly a Knight-class. The light blue card… that corresponded to Platinum Rank. High ranking, definitely, but still not the highest tier.

The bald man, with his muscular physique and simple attire, fit the profile of a Monk-class. His yellow card indicated Gold Rank, a respectable position within the guild.

The woman in leather armor, with her sleek gear and hand crossbow, was undoubtedly a Hunter-class. Her white card signified Silver Rank.

The man in the green robe, with the book at his back, was most likely a Cleric-class. His white card also placed him at Silver Rank. It wouldn't make much sense if he were a Wizard or Sorcerer-class, Giri thought. A party like this would almost certainly need a dedicated healer.

The Chief, having noticed the arrival of the newcomers, quickly stepped forward to greet them. The village Seers accompanied him, their presence adding a sense of formality to the occasion. After a brief exchange of words, the Chief ascended the wooden platform once more, raising his hand to address the assembled villagers.

"People of Oakhaven," he announced, his voice booming across the square, "I present to you the adventurers who have graciously answered our call for aid."

He gestured to each of them in turn, introducing them one by one, starting with the lowest rank and working his way up.

"These two brave individuals, both of Silver Rank, are Mora the Hunter and Bestiel the Cleric."

Mora, the woman in leather armor, gave a small, confident nod, while Bestiel, the robed man, offered a polite bow.

"Next, we have Honka, a Gold Rank Monk, whose strength and skill will be invaluable in the challenges ahead."

Honka, the bald, muscular man, grinned broadly, flexing his biceps to a few cheers from the crowd.

Finally, the Chief turned to the woman in full plate armor.

"And leading this valiant group, we have Clara, a Knight of Platinum Rank."

Clara simply stood at attention, her posture unwavering, her expression composed. She offered no smile, no boastful gesture. Just a quiet, unwavering presence.

The villagers erupted in applause, grateful for the arrival of these skilled warriors. Mora, Bestiel, and Honka visibly basked in the attention, striking heroic poses and exchanging excited glances. Clara, however, remained unmoved, her composure unshaken by the crowd's enthusiasm.

Such composure, Giri thought, impressed. Fitting of a Platinum Rank.

As the applause began to die down, Giri muttered to himself, a dry remark escaping his lips.

"So," he murmured, barely audible, "this is going to be a four-man raid."

—

End of Chapter 3