Annoyed Guide

He had learned something new. Andrew doesn't lie.

Even when he spoke casually, even when his words sounded like a joke, he wasn't making things up.

Right now, that truth was more terrifying than reassuring.

Inside the cramped wooden shelter, Andrew sat at the table, calmly peeling mushrooms with a Wooden Knife. The soft scraping sound filled the room, an eerie contrast to the relentless banging on the door.

He, on the other hand, was curled up in the corner, as far away from the entrance as possible. He didn't want to go out there.

Whatever was outside… it was worse than Slimes.

His anxiety got the better of him. He'd already shoved extra planks against the door, reinforcing it with every bit of wood he could spare. It still wasn't enough. Every time the door rattled, his breath hitched. Every time the walls creaked, he flinched.

Andrew didn't even look up. "Told you you'd thank me."

"Shut up, I'm panicking."

Andrew didn't even pause in his work, calmly scraping the last bits of skin off the mushroom. "Well, you'll get used to it."

"How do people even live with this???" he hissed, gripping his knees as another thud shook the door. The growls outside sent a shiver down his spine.

Andrew shrugged. "Well, they normally live with other people. In secure places."

"Oh, great. So I'm just built different, huh?"

"More like built unfortunate."

"That... I agree on." He flinched again as another strong thud echoed through the shelter.

Silence followed. Awkward and tense—at least for him.

Andrew, on the other hand, seemed completely unbothered. As if the hammering against the door was nothing more than a light drizzle outside. He finished peeling the mushrooms and smoothly transitioned into weaving plant fibers with his knife.

"Well, since we're going to be here for a while, I might as well educate you on the creatures outside," he said casually, as if he were reading off a grocery list.

"..."

"Alright then," Andrew continued. "The groaning? That's from the Zombies. Reanimated corpses that crawl out at night. They don't think, don't feel, don't stop. They exist for the sole purpose of hunting down anything that breathes. Then you've got the Demon Eyes—floating eyeballs that hurl themselves at you like cannonballs. There's also the Feral Bats, just oversized bloodsuckers looking for a meal."

A particularly loud bang against the door made him flinch again. Andrew barely blinked.

"Normally, we'd have to worry about Weredogs too, but I haven't heard any howling yet," he added. "Guess we're lucky. Oh, and good thing we're far from the pine forests. That's where the Skinwalkers tend to crawl around."

The blood drained from his face. "...Skinwalkers?"

"Yup. Deceivers that will maul you alive and take your skin as a coat."

He stared at Andrew, horrified. The casual tone did not help.

"Oh, and up in the mountains, you might run into Owl Bears. Big, mean, and fast. As for the sky... if you ever look up at night, really far out, you might see a giant floating eyeball."

He swallowed hard. "...What."

"People call it the Omniscient Watcher. It's got incredible vision, and if it spots you, well... let's just say it's basically a bigger, meaner, more violent version of the Demon Eyes. You really don't want that thing noticing you."

Another heavy thud rattled the door. He instinctively pressed himself further into the corner of the shelter.

"So yeah," Andrew concluded, tying off the fibers with a satisfied nod. "Best not to go outside at night."

Andrew finished with the fibers and began weaving them together, his hands moving with practiced ease as he shaped them into a small basket.

Watching him work, he frowned. "Why aren't you using the Work Bench?" he asked, confused. "Didn't you say you can just use your mind to craft things there?"

Andrew glanced up briefly before returning to his task. "Oh, well, that only works for people with high Mana reserves. Normally, you need a minimum of... hmm..." He paused, tapping his chin in thought. "Think of Mana like water. To craft with your mind at the Work Bench, you need at least ten liters of it. You have twenty. I, on the other hand, only have seven."

He blinked. "Wait. So that means—"

"Yup. I'm below the threshold." Andrew shrugged, unconcerned. "So, I have to do things the old-fashioned way."

Now, he felt a little bad for Andrew—even if he didn't particularly like his smartass attitude.

"Don't feel bad," Andrew said casually, not even looking up from his work. It was almost like he had read his mind. "I don't do much, so I have plenty of free time."

He stayed silent, unsure how to respond.

Andrew smirked. "And besides, it's not impossible for me to raise my reserves. I just don't want to. Takes too much effort, and honestly? It's a pain."

He wasn't sure if Andrew was being lazy or just stubborn. Probably both.

"How so?"

Andrew leaned back slightly, still weaving the fibers. "See, to raise your pool, you need to gather some sort of essence. Mana doesn't just grow on its own."

He frowned. "Essence?"

"Yeah. And to get it, you need magical artifacts and stuff. The most common method is using Star Stones, which come from the populations living in the sky. So yeah, if you want more mana, you have to go up there, bargain, and maybe—maybe—slightly upgrade your reserves."

He blinked. "Wait, hold on—populations in the sky?"

"Mostly near mountains, or in rare cases, in gravity wells," Andrew explained, still focused on his weaving. "There are entire populations that live closer to the clouds."

He raised an eyebrow. "You're telling me people just... live in the sky?"

Andrew nodded. "Yep. Clouds sometimes rain mana, but the further it falls, the more it dissipates. Up there, it's much easier to gather and store. Makes it a prime location for those who rely on magic."

"...That's insane."

Andrew smirked. "You'll get used to it. I have a friend up there, actually. She's a Harpy."

Another thud.

He flinched, but it was weaker this time. Slowly, he was starting to tune out the constant banging against the door. His anxiety wasn't gone, but at least now he had more confidence in the walls around him.

"…I think it'll hold," he muttered, almost like he was trying to convince himself.

Andrew glanced up from his work and smirked. "See? You're already adapting."

He ignored the Guide, and looked into the nothingness. He started to slowly close his eyes...

Really slowly...

His head hanging low...

Slow... really slow...

Asleep.

Andrew watched in silence as his companion drifted off, head dipping lower with each passing second until he was completely still.

"Well, that was fast," the Guide murmured, setting aside his work.

Outside, the creatures of the night continued their relentless assault on the wooden walls, but the exhausted newcomer had finally succumbed to sleep, despite the ever-present noise.

Andrew sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Guess that means I'm on watch duty."

Andrew leaned back slightly, examining his handiwork. The woven casket was finished, though without stone, there was no chance of making a furnace tonight. A campfire would be possible, but... the only one who could craft it was currently passed out.

And outside was full of monsters. Not that it was a big deal. Setting a fire indoors was usually a terrible idea—unless, of course, one had the blessing of the Torch God. Thanks to that entity's influence, torches burned endlessly without consuming fuel, and most importantly, they wouldn't set nearby materials ablaze.

He glanced at the slumbering newcomer and then at the flickering torch on the table. "Lucky you," he muttered. "Most people would've frozen their first night."

The pounding outside continued, but Andrew had heard it all before. The night would pass, the creatures would eventually retreat, and in the morning, they'd move forward. For now, he kept watch, the torch's warm glow keeping the darkness at bay.

Andrew sighed, leaning against the table, fingers absentmindedly running over the wooden surface. With nothing but his own thoughts for company, he found himself circling back to the same question.

What was the deal with this guy?

Guides weren't assigned randomly. He knew that much. If he was here, then there had to be something about him that made it worth Andrew's time. But from what he'd seen so far, the guy was… painfully normal. No outstanding talent, no apparent destiny, not even a particularly open mind—just someone thrown into this world and stubbornly refusing to accept it.

Andrew had met Champions before, the kind of people who reshaped the world with their presence alone. The strongest warriors, the most gifted mages, the ones who left legends in their wake. But even they didn't start as Champions. They had to grow into it.

Maybe that was it? Maybe this guy had some hidden potential, something waiting to be drawn out?

But right now, all Andrew saw was a reluctant, confused newcomer, one who struggled with the simplest realities of this world. If there was something special about him, it was buried deep.

And until it revealed itself, Andrew was stuck figuring out how to drag him forward, one step at a time.

Andrew exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip tightening around his bow. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was the constant thudding gnawing at his patience. Or maybe—just maybe—wondering about that guy had put him in a worse mood than he realized.

Whatever the case, he was done with this nonsense.

With practiced ease, he strode toward the door, his mind already set. No hesitation. No second thoughts. He unlatched it and, without even glancing at what lurked outside, drove his foot forward in a powerful kick.

A sickly, rotting mass was sent stumbling backward—one of the zombies. Its gurgling moan barely had time to leave its throat before it crashed into the others behind it, sending them toppling over like sacks of spoiled meat.

Andrew wasted no time. He stepped out, swiftly shutting the door behind him to keep the noise from waking his reluctant companion.

In a single, fluid motion, he pulled out his bow, nocked an arrow, and took aim.

The first shot whistled through the air, piercing a zombie's decayed forehead. It barely slowed, but Andrew had already loosed a second arrow, embedding it deeper.

The Demon Eyes hovered erratically, their grotesque forms twitching as they locked onto him. Andrew kept moving, keeping his distance. His arrows flew with precision, striking eyes and skulls alike, each shot calculated, efficient.

The night was long, and the creatures weren't going to stop.

But neither was he.

Andrew moved with efficiency, his body acting on instinct. His mind barely registered the danger—just the overwhelming irritation bubbling beneath the surface.

He ducked under the swoop of a Demon Eye, pivoting on his heel to loose an arrow straight into its pupil. The grotesque orb let out a shrill screech before spiraling to the ground, twitching violently before going still.

A Feral Bat lunged at him from the side, its fangs bared and eyes gleaming with hunger. Andrew caught it mid-air, gripping the back of its neck tightly. With a grunt, he swung it like a crude weapon, slamming it into an approaching zombie's skull. The impact sent the rotting corpse staggering back, just in time for him to drive an arrow through its open mouth.

Another bat tried to latch onto his arm, but he twisted, yanking it free and throwing it into a group of undead. The creatures barely flinched, groaning as they shambled toward him, their hunger unwavering.

He kept moving. Tripping zombies by kicking their knees out from under them, rolling under another swooping Demon Eye, letting arrows fly as he regained his footing. His attacks weren't elegant—just practical, efficient. Every motion was done with the sole purpose of eliminating the annoying pests that refused to let him have a quiet night.

Andrew exhaled sharply, eyes scanning the darkened landscape. The night wasn't over. But that was fine.

If they wanted to keep coming, then he would just keep fighting.