An endless, suffocating void wrapped around Obei like a cocoon. He could no longer feel the cold warehouse floor beneath him, nor the pain in his side. The last thing he remembered was the gun barrel, the finality of death staring him in the face.
Then, nothing.
No light, no sound. Just emptiness.
Then—air.
A violent gasp tore through his lungs as his eyes snapped open. His body jolted upright, heart hammering in his chest. Cold air bit at his skin, sharp and real. He could feel again.
He was alive.
The night sky stretched above him, vast and endless, littered with unfamiliar stars. The ground beneath him was rough, uneven—dirt and something else.
Bodies.
His breath hitched. He wasn't alone. Around him, lifeless corpses were strewn across the field, their vacant eyes staring into the void. Some had been slashed apart, others burned beyond recognition. The air reeked of blood and decay, thick enough to choke on.
His hands pressed into the dirt as he struggled to rise, muscles trembling, foreign. His body felt different—stronger, leaner, unfamiliar in ways that made his skin crawl.
Obei looked down at himself.
His clothes were different—no longer the jacket and jeans he had died in. Instead, a tattered cloak hung over his shoulders, dark pants clinging to his form. His hands were rougher, calloused, as if they had known a life of hardship he hadn't lived.
This wasn't his body.
Panic swelled in his chest, but he swallowed it down. Now wasn't the time.
A gust of wind carried distant voices. He stiffened.
Near the edge of the field, a dirt road cut through the landscape. Two figures approached, lanterns swinging in their grasp. Their armor clinked with each step, weapons strapped to their sides. Soldiers, mercenaries—he didn't know.
His instincts screamed at him to stay hidden.
Obei crouched low, pressing himself into the shadows of the dead. He wasn't about to throw himself into the arms of strangers in a world he didn't understand.
As the figures passed, their conversation drifted through the still night air.
"…another raid last night. The village to the east was wiped out."
"Damn monsters. When will the king send reinforcements?"
"Reinforcements? Ha! He's too busy lining his pockets to care about the likes of us."
Obei's grip tightened on the dirt beneath him. Monsters? Raids? Whatever this world was, it was dangerous.
His eyes flicked to the corpse beside him—a man clad in battered leather, a rusted dagger clutched in his stiff fingers. Obei hesitated for only a moment before prying it free.
It wasn't much. But it was something.
The soldiers' voices faded into the distance. He exhaled, steadying himself.
If he wanted to survive, he needed information.
The road led to civilization, but walking in blind was a risk. He could follow the soldiers, wait and observe. Or he could search the bodies, gather supplies before moving on.
Either way, one thing was certain—this was only the beginning.
The wind howled through the field of the dead. Obei—no, that wasn't his name anymore. He wasn't sure who he was, but "Obei" had died in a warehouse back on Earth. Whoever he was now, he was a survivor.
He exhaled slowly and turned his focus to the corpses around him.
Looting the dead wasn't something he had ever done before, but hesitation would get him killed.
He crouched beside a fallen man, his leather armor torn open by something sharp. A sword wound. His fingers trembled slightly as he searched the body. The man's belt had a small pouch. David untied it, his heart pounding in his ears. Inside, he found a few dull copper coins, a strip of dried meat, and a vial of thick, black liquid.
'Could be medicine. Could be poison.' He tucked it away regardless.
His hands moved quickly now. Another corpse—a woman, dressed in dark fabric. Her grip was still locked around a short sword. It took effort to pry it free from her stiff fingers, but when he did, it felt... right. He tested its weight, then wiped the blood on her cloak before sheathing it at his side.
He searched three more bodies before stopping. Most of them had nothing of value—some torn clothes, shattered weapons. Whatever had attacked them had taken everything worth stealing.
Obei exhaled, adjusting the stolen belt around his waist.
Ahead, the soldiers he had been following were growing distant. Their lanterns bobbed in the darkness, leading the way down the dirt road. He clenched his jaw and followed, keeping to the shadows.
The walk was long, stretching under a sky so vast it made him feel like a ghost wandering an unfamiliar world.
Then—smoke. Not thick, acrid death, but something controlled. Campfires.
The road dipped, revealing a fort nestled against the cliffs ahead. Wooden walls, reinforced with sharpened stakes, loomed over the entrance. Torches lined the perimeter, their glow flickering against the night. The fort wasn't large, but it was built for defense. The gates stood tall, manned by guards whose armor was mismatched, their expressions grim.
Obei crouched low, watching as the soldiers reached the entrance.
"Anything to report?" a guard called from the top of the gate.
"Nothing but corpses," one of the returning men grunted. "The eastern village is gone."
A heavy silence followed. One of the guards spat into the dirt. "Damn monsters. We can't keep this up."
"No choice," another muttered. "Either we fight or end up like them."
Obei narrowed his eyes. Monsters. Villages wiped out. This world was far more dangerous then he had first anticipated.
The fort's gates groaned as they were pulled open, the soldiers stepping inside. The guards didn't look relieved—just tired.
Obei clenched his fists. If he wanted answers, he needed to get inside.
He had two choices.
He could sneak in, find a weak point in the walls and slip inside unseen. If caught, he'd be an intruder—and they might not ask questions before killing him.
Or he could walk to the front gate, play the part of a lost traveler seeking shelter. It was a risk. If these people were paranoid, they might not trust a stranger.
Either way, he had to move.
The fort loomed before him, torches flickering like watching eyes.
Obei took a breath.
Obei pressed himself against the cold earth, his eyes locked onto the fort's gate as it groaned shut behind the soldiers. The night stretched on, the occasional flicker of torchlight casting long shadows over the palisade walls.
He wasn't going to take any chances.
Rushing in, unprepared and ignorant of the situation inside, was a death sentence. He needed to watch, wait, and listen.
Lying low in the underbrush near the road, he steadied his breathing. The scent of charred wood and sweat lingered in the air, carried by the wind from the fort.
The guards at the gate spoke in hushed voices, their words barely audible over the distant howl of wolves.
"...we need more men. If another raid happens, we won't hold."
"You know that we aren't going to get reinforcements, and if reinforcements were to arrive things would get complicated."
"I heard the captain already sent word to the capital. Reinforcements should've been here by now."
A bitter scoff. "The capital doesn't care about us. We're just another fort on the border, buying time before the whole damn kingdom falls."
Obei's grip tightened around the hilt of his stolen sword. So this wasn't just a single attack—this world was already drowning in conflict.
Another voice, rough and impatient, joined the conversation. "Forget the capital. What about the old man?"
Obei's ears perked up.
"He's inside with the last of the survivors," the first guard muttered. "Trying to calm the children. It's useless. They all saw what happened."
"So? You think he has a plan?"
A pause. Then, the voice dropped lower. "I don't trust him, everything he's had us do is inexcusable, If reinforcements are to arrive there is no doubt we will all be found out."
Obei narrowed his eyes.
'The old man… inexcusable actions?"
There was someone important inside the fort. Someone these soldiers didn't trust. Something that could potentially go wrong.
He remained still, muscles tense. If the soldiers were wary of their own people, then that meant there was more at play than just a random monster raid.
The minutes stretched into an hour. The guards rotated shifts. The torches burned low. Inside the fort, faint figures moved past windows and fire pits.
Obei's patience held firm. He wouldn't move until he had a clear picture of the situation.
He watched. He listened.
And slowly, the pieces began to fall into place.