A Rude Awakening

Kain Rivel woke up coughing, his lungs rattling like a broken engine. The air reeked of damp straw and faintly of manure—not the afterlife he'd pictured. His last memory was choking on a ramen noodle while skimming The Blade of Eternity on Web Novel, a fittingly pathetic end for someone as average as him. So why was he sprawled on a lumpy cot in a shack straight out of the Middle Ages?

He sat up, joints creaking like old hinges. His hands were thin, shaky, and pale—not his. A cracked mirror on the wall showed a stranger: gaunt cheeks, sweaty brown hair, and wide, panicked eyes. "This isn't me," he croaked, voice a feeble rasp. Then it clicked. The straw bed. The wooden beams. The distant clatter of a village waking up. He'd read this scene.

"No," he muttered, clutching his chest. "No, no, no." He stumbled to the window, peering at a dirt path lined with huts. Chickens pecked the ground. A burly man hauled firewood. This was Rivermist Village from The Blade of Eternity, a fantasy novel about Leon Valtor, the sword-wielding hero who'd slay dragons and win Mya Seraphine's heart. Kain wasn't Leon. He wasn't even a sidekick.

"I'm an extra," he whispered, dread sinking in. He knew Rivermist's fate. Chapter 5: shadow wolves raided, killing half the village—including a nameless sick villager who died coughing in his shack. That was him. Kain Rivel, doomed nobody.

He paced the tiny room, mind racing. "Okay, think. You know the plot. Just leave before the wolves." He grabbed a moth-eaten cloak, then froze. Leaning against the wall were two rusty axes—dual axes, short-handled, chipped, and heavy. "What the—?" He reached for one, nearly dropping it as his arm trembled. "Who leaves weapons in a sick guy's house?" Probably some farmer's leftovers, but they screamed trouble.

He slung the cloak on, leaving the axes—until a creak outside made him jump. "Better safe than sorry," he muttered, grabbing them despite his shaking hands. He could barely lift them, but he hooked them onto his belt, wincing as they clanked. He shuffled out, every step a struggle.

The village hummed with life. A woman churned butter, glaring at him. A kid's ball nearly tripped him. Kain aimed for the outskirts, axes dragging at his hips. He'd made it past the well when a growl stopped him cold.

He turned slowly. A shadow wolf loomed at the tree line, red eyes glowing, jaws dripping. "No way," he whimpered. "It's too early! Chapter 5, not 1!" The wolf lunged. Kain shrieked, stumbling back—one axe slipped free, tangling his legs. He fell, rolling downhill into a ditch, the second axe clattering after him. A crunch rang out.

Silence. Kain peeked up, heart pounding. The wolf lay dead, its head smashed against a jagged rock, black blood pooling. "Did I…?" No—he'd tripped. The wolf must've slipped chasing him, killing itself. Dumb luck.

Footsteps thundered. "Kain!" Marta the baker shouted, gaping at the wolf, then at him, muddied and clutching an axe. "You slew it! With those axes!"

"No, I didn't—" Kain started, coughing violently. He dropped the axe, fumbling for the other. "They're not even mine!"

"Saved us!" a man yelled.

"Look at those blades—born for battle!"

Kain waved his trembling hands. "I tripped! It's a fluke!" Another cough doubled him over. The villagers gasped, then nodded.

"Fights even while ill," Marta said, awed. "A true hero."

"I'm not!" he croaked, but they ignored him, hoisting the wolf's corpse and chanting his name. Kain slumped by the well, axes at his feet. Attention meant death in this world.

A soft laugh froze his blood. Across the square stood a figure in a dark cloak, silver hair spilling out, a sword at her hip. Mya Seraphine. Too early. Her violet eyes locked on him, a smile curling her lips.

"Interesting," she murmured, stepping closer. "A villager with dual axes, felling a wolf. You're no ordinary man, are you?"

"I'm super ordinary!" Kain pleaded, hefting an axe—it wobbled, nearly hitting his shin. "See? I can't even hold these!"

She tilted her head, smile sharpening. "Yet it's dead. And you're alive."

"It was the rock!" he shouted, but the villagers cheered louder. Mya closed the gap, her gaze unyielding.

"I'm Mya Seraphine," she said, voice low. "I'll stay a while, Kain Rivel. To see what those axes—and you—can do."

Kain sank to his knees, mud soaking him. "I'm so dead," he whispered. The axes glinted mockingly as the nightmare began.