Welcome

He remembers waking up.

The sharp blades of grass prickled against his skin, and the warmth of the sun pressed against his eyelids. It was a gentle call—one he couldn't ignore.

With a groan, he pushed himself up, his body stiff and unsteady. Blinking, he took in his surroundings, confusion settling in his chest.

Where… was he?

It seemed like a peaceful, green forest. An open meadow stretched around him, dotted with trees swaying in the breeze. Birds chirped, small critters darted through the grass—it was almost serene.

Almost.

The strangest thing wasn't the unfamiliar scenery, but the man standing nearby. He watched him with an easy, welcoming smile.

"Hey."

He could only stare, confusion written across his face.

The stranger remained unfazed, his smile steady, his tone calm.

"I'm the Guide. Your Guide, specifically." He gestured around them. "I'll teach you about the dangers of this world."

There was something unsettling about how casually he said it—like danger was inevitable. Like it was only a matter of time.

"What... what do you mean, dangers?"

The Guide chuckled, crossing his arms. "Well, danger as in danger, my friend. You do know what the word means, right?"

There was no urgency in his voice, no alarm—just a casual, almost amused tone. As if the idea of life-threatening peril was nothing more than an everyday occurrence.

That didn't make him feel any better.

"This is going too fast..."

The Guide tilted his head, considering the statement. "Hm, I suppose you're right. Now that I think about it, introducing myself as your Guide and immediately bringing up the dangers of this world might be a bit much..."

"Still don't get it."

Andrew let out a small chuckle. "Alright, let me put it simply. You can call me Andrew. My role and job is that of a Guide, part of a society called the Order of the Guides. We know almost everything about this world, and it's our duty to teach others—civilians, adventurers, merchants, and more."

His voice was steady, practiced, like he'd explained this a thousand times before. But that only raised more questions.

Who exactly was he?

Where was this place?

And why did he need a Guide in the first place?

"What am I, then?" His voice wavered slightly. "Why do I need a Guide in the first place?"

Andrew's smile didn't falter, but there was a glint in his eyes—like he had expected the question.

"That, my friend, is the real mystery, isn't it?" He spread his arms slightly, as if gesturing to the world around them. "You woke up here, without memory or purpose. That means you are something special—or perhaps, something unfortunate."

He took a step closer, lowering his voice just a bit.

"The reason you need a Guide?" A pause. "Because this world will try to kill you."

"What..!" The sudden drop in Andrew's voice made it feel like a threat.

Instinctively, he took a step back.

Andrew didn't move, but his smile didn't fade either. "What's wrong? You truly need me to survive this place."

That didn't answer much. If anything, it only raised more questions.

What was he?

Why had he woken up in the middle of nowhere?

And why had this supposed Order of the Guides assigned someone to him specifically?

None of it made sense. But one thing was clear—he wasn't getting out of this conversation anytime soon.

He swallowed, trying to steady his thoughts. His body still felt sluggish, as if he'd been asleep for far too long. The grass beneath his feet, the breeze against his skin—everything felt real. But his mind was blank.

No memories.

No answers.

Just confusion.

"I don't get it," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "What's so dangerous about this place?"

Andrew's smile turned knowing, like a teacher humoring a student's ignorance. Without a word, he raised a hand and pointed toward the treeline.

"See for yourself."

At first, he saw nothing. Just the peaceful swaying of the trees, the rustling of leaves.

Then—movement.

A cold, gelatinous mass suddenly pressed against his back. Before he could react, a tremendous force slammed into him, sending shockwaves through his ribs. It felt like he'd been hit by something heavy—hundreds of pounds, at least.

He staggered forward, nearly falling over from the knockback, panic setting in. He scrambled behind Andrew, breath shaky, eyes darting toward the attacker.

A purple blob bounced toward them. Its surface shimmered in the light, its form jiggling unnaturally as it moved.

His first enemy.

And it was a Slime.

At first, it felt ironic—maybe even downright stupid.

How could anyone be wary—let alone terrified—of a mere Slime?

But any sense of mockery vanished the moment it trembled violently, shifting its mass in rapid waves before launching itself into the air.

Two, maybe three meters high.

And considering the sheer weight he had felt—hundreds of pounds, at least—this thing was no joke.

It looked pathetic.

But even this was dangerous.

Andrew withdrew a bow and arrow from seemingly nowhere, like he had pulled it straight from thin air. A magic storage? Some kind of pocket dimension?

There was no time to question it.

With a smooth motion, he nocked an arrow and let it fly. The projectile struck the Slime, halting its momentum as it skidded backward.

"That's what I mean by dangerous," Andrew said calmly. "And consider the fact that these are just fodder."

Fodder.

The word rang in his head as he stared at the creature.

A bouncing blob, hundreds of pounds in weight, capable of launching itself several meters into the air… and it was fodder?

A sinking feeling settled in his stomach. If this was weak, what did the real monsters look like?

Before he could dwell on that thought, the Slime began to tremble again—faster this time, like it was angry.

Andrew, unfazed, reached into his storage once more and pulled out a small weapon. A short sword, its orange-metallic surface dull yet sturdy.

"Use this Copper Shortsword," he said, offering it. "It's not much, but it'll help. Just keep your distance."

His grip tightened around the hilt as he took the weapon.

He took a deep breath, gripping the Copper Shortsword tighter. It was light, almost toy-like in his hands, but the weight of the situation kept his focus sharp.

The Purple Slime trembled again, then shot forward.

"Step to the side."

Andrew's command was calm, spoken with authority but never shouted. Without thinking, he obeyed, pivoting just as the Slime crashed into the ground where he had stood. Dirt scattered from the impact.

"Good. Now stab. Quick, small strikes."

He lunged forward, jabbing the shortsword into the gelatinous mass. The blade pierced in shallowly, the resistance weirdly spongy. The Slime quivered, but he barely knocked it back.

It retaliated instantly, wiggling violently before launching again.

"Back! Let it land before attacking."

He scrambled backward, feeling the wind rush past as the Slime barely missed him. The moment it hit the ground, Andrew loosed another arrow, forcing it to skid back.

"Now. Stab again. Aim low."

He dashed in, delivering a flurry of rapid stabs. The Slime's body rippled with each hit, but it still pressed forward, its jiggling mass undeterred. Even with its slow recoil, he could feel the weight behind every bounce.

Andrew moved with precision, each of his arrows keeping the creature at bay just long enough for him to reposition.

"Don't overcommit," Andrew warned. "The moment you lose rhythm, you'll take a hit."

He stepped back, breathing heavy, as the Slime trembled faster, preparing another leap.

This wasn't just hacking at a weak enemy. This was learning—a rhythm of attack, retreat, and counter.

And this was just fodder.

The Purple Slime trembled violently, its form unstable after repeated strikes. It bounced one last time, sluggishly, before collapsing into a quivering heap. With a final stab, the blade pierced deep, and the Slime let out a wet, unnatural squelch.

Then, just like that—it burst.

Splattering across the ground, it left behind a strange, purple gelatin where its body once was.

He stared at the remains, catching his breath. That's it?

Andrew, as composed as ever, strode forward and picked up a chunk of the gelatin. He held it up, inspecting the glossy, wobbling material.

"This," he said, "is actually quite sweet and safe to eat. Doesn't offer much in terms of nutrition, but it's edible."

He turned the gelatin in his fingers before continuing.

"However, its best use is in making torches. It's highly flammable."

He tossed the piece over, and he caught it instinctively. It felt cold and soft, but something about knowing it had just been a living creature made it unsettling.

Edible, huh?

He wasn't sure if he was desperate enough to test that yet.

Without hesitation, Andrew took a bite of the purple gelatin.

The soft, squishy texture gave way easily, and he chewed thoughtfully before swallowing.

"Though, it gives a small energy boost thanks to the sugars in it," he remarked casually, as if he hadn't just eaten a monster like it was an afternoon snack.

He just stared.

"…You eat these things?"

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "You'll be eating worse eventually."

That wasn't exactly comforting.

He looked down at the gelatin in his hand, then back at the spot where the Slime had been.

Maybe later.

Andrew dusted off his hands, completely unfazed by the fight.

"Welp, the threat is gone. Don't worry, we'll probably run into weaker Slimes from now on."

He gestured to the surrounding forest and meadow.

"In these kinds of biomes, Slimes are generally weak and basic. Green Slimes are the most common, but Purple Slimes? They're the strongest of the bunch here."

He kicked a stray piece of the gelatin with his boot.

"Though they're rare. Purple Slimes require more energy than their green counterparts, so they develop specialized pigments to absorb sunlight more efficiently—sort of like chlorophyll in plants."

He knelt down and picked up another piece of the gelatin, stretching it slightly between his fingers.

"See the color? That deep purple comes from unique pigments that enhance their energy absorption. Unlike normal Slimes, which rely mostly on consuming organic material, Purples can supplement their energy through sunlight. It's why they tend to be out during the day and are more active than Greens."

He let the gelatin drop and stood back up.

"Of course, they still need to eat. Can't survive on sunlight alone."

He turned to face him, smirking slightly.

"But hey, at least you took down one of the strongest 'fodder' monsters already. Progress!"

Somehow, that didn't feel very reassuring.

Andrew clapped his hands together, his tone shifting back to business.

"This already set us back too much. Wasted some time, but hey—at least you understand the threats now."

He reached into seemingly nowhere again, pulling out a Copper Axe, and handed it over.

"Now, chop chop. Get to work. We need wood, and you're chopping down the trees."

He blinked, staring at the axe in his hands.

"…Wait. You're not gonna help?"

Andrew smirked. "I'm the Guide. I guide you. Not do all the work for you."

That sounded like an excuse, but there wasn't much room to argue.

With a sigh, he adjusted his grip on the axe and approached the nearest tree. Time to get to work.

He started swinging.

At first, he braced himself for the impact, expecting a jarring recoil—but surprisingly, there was almost none. Even with his trashy, full-power swings, the resistance he expected from the dense wood barely existed.

Then, after just a few swings—far too few—the entire tree… exploded.

Not in the way trees should fall, with cracking and splintering. No, it just burst apart into neatly cut logs and acorns, scattering across the grass like a dropped pile of supplies.

No shockwave. No debris flying dangerously. Just… instant disassembly.

He stood there, axe still raised, staring at the spot where the tree used to be.

"…What."

Andrew, unfazed, nodded approvingly. "Good. Now onto the next one."

He turned to face him, still dumbfounded. "That's not how trees work."

Andrew just gave a knowing smirk. "Welcome to this world."

He turned to Andrew, still gripping the axe like it had personally offended him.

"No, no, don't pull this bullshit on me. Trees don't work like that."

Andrew shrugged, completely unfazed. "In this world, they do."

He pointed to another tree. "Go ahead, do it again."

Still in disbelief, he stomped over to the next tree, raised the axe, and swung.

A few hits later—boom. Another tree exploded into neatly cut logs and acorns.

He stood there, staring at the organized chaos before him.

Andrew crossed his arms. "See? You get used to it."

"I don't want to get used to it!"

Andrew raised an eyebrow, smirking.

"Sheesh, you were more composed after seeing a Slime."

He turned, waving a hand dismissively as if trees randomly exploding into perfect resources was completely normal.

"But sure, freak out over efficient lumber gathering. That's the real horror here."

He gritted his teeth. "Because this—this is unnatural! How the hell does a tree just disassemble itself like a freaking loot box?!"

Andrew just chuckled, picking up some logs. "Nature works in mysterious ways. Now hurry up and gather more. We're on a schedule."

Seeing that trying to apply logic with the smartass wasn't getting him anywhere, he sighed and obliged.

Grumbling under his breath, he moved to the next tree and swung the axe.

A few hits later—boom. Another one down. More perfectly cut logs. More acorns that just magically popped out like some sort of reward system.

He barely reacted this time. Just picked up the wood, dead inside, and moved to the next.

Andrew nodded in approval. "See? You're adapting already."

"Shut up."

Andrew watched as he finished chopping another tree, then clapped his hands together.

"Alright, now let's talk about your Inventory."

He blinked. "My what?"

Andrew smirked. "Exactly. You haven't even noticed where all that wood went, have you?"

He paused. Looked at his hands—empty. Looked at the ground—no wood.

"...Oh, come on."

"Check your Inventory. It's a hammerspace unique to... well, let's just say 'special people.' That includes you."

Andrew gestured vaguely, as if that explained anything.

Skeptical but out of options, he focused—and suddenly, he just knew. He could feel the wood somewhere in an unseen space, as if it were in an invisible pocket.

"…This is weird."

"Get used to it. Now, take out some wood and craft a Work Bench."

"Craft a what?"

Andrew sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Alright, let me dumb it down. You can shape materials instantly into useful items, as long as you know how. Focus, picture a workbench, and make it."

Still confused but willing to try, he concentrated.

Then—pop.

A fully built wooden workbench suddenly appeared in front of him.

He stared.

Andrew gave a satisfied nod. "Good. Now we can actually start making real tools."

"...I hate this world."

Andrew crossed his arms. "Well, it doesn't care what you think."

Then, he pointed at the Work Bench. "Now, craft a Wooden Sword. Slashing is better than stabbing for inexperienced people—like you."

He frowned. "Wow. Rude."

Andrew smiled. "Honest."

Sighing, he focused again. Just like with the Work Bench, the knowledge of how to make a Wooden Sword just... appeared in his mind. He reached into his Inventory, selected the wood—

Pop.

A freshly made Wooden Sword appeared in his hands.

He gave it a test swing. It was light, kinda rough, and... well, it was better than the toothpick of a Copper Shortsword Andrew gave him earlier.

Andrew nodded approvingly. "Good. That should help you fend off weaker enemies more easily."

He looked at the sword, then back at Andrew.

"Can I make a gun?"

Andrew stared at him blankly.

"No."

Andrew sighed. "Well, at least not now."

He squinted. "So I can make a gun?"

Andrew smiled but said nothing. Instead, he turned away and gestured toward the trees. "Now, get more wood. We'll need walls, a door, and a roof before nightfall."

That... didn't sound good.

"Why before nightfall?"

Andrew glanced back at him, his usual smirk fading just a little.

"Because that's when the real threats come out."

Real threats.

And considering that Slimes—hundreds-of-pounds, meter-jumping, man-flattening Slimes—were considered fodder, he could only wonder what a real threat looked like.

He swallowed. "You know, I'm suddenly very motivated to build this house."

Andrew chuckled. "Good. Now get chopping."

After a few hours—mostly consisting of him trying to understand how building worked, along with a brief mental breakdown over floating blocks (seriously, why did weight not matter as long as something was attached in some way?)—the house was finally done.

From the outside, it looked like... a box. A glorified wooden shoebox.

Inside, it was simple: a Work Bench, a Table, and two Chairs. A single Torch flickered on the Table, casting warm light in the otherwise empty space.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead. "I hate everything about this, but at least it's done."

Andrew gave an approving nod. "Good enough for a first shelter. It'll keep out most things."

He blinked. "Most?"

Andrew simply smiled. "You'll see."

"Yeah, at this point, I'm ignoring you because you're doing a bad job as the Guide."

Andrew put a hand on his chest, mock-offended. "C'mon, I'm not that bad, am I?"

"I'm going inside."

Without another word, he stepped into his wooden shoebox of a house and shut the door.

Andrew chuckled outside. "You'll thank me when night falls!"

Hours passed. He was still feeling petty—and maybe a little scared, though he wouldn't admit it.

From time to time, he'd crack open the door just a bit, peeking outside to see what Andrew was up to.

Mostly? Shooting Slimes. Watching birds. Eating gelatin.

At some point, Andrew also started gathering mushrooms—red-dotted, yellow ones. He plucked them from the grass with a practiced ease, inspecting each one before tossing them into his inventory.

"You're just looting mushrooms now?" he finally asked, still half-hidden behind the door.

Andrew looked up, smirking. "These ones are useful. They're mild restoratives."

"So you're eating floor mushrooms for health?"

Andrew laughed. "You're acting like that's the weirdest thing today."

"Just because you're correct doesn't mean you're right."

Andrew chuckled, tossing another mushroom into his inventory. "Again, you'll thank me later."

He huffed and shut the door again. "Doubt."