*Date: 33,480 Second Quarter - Iron Confederacy, Safe Hollow*
Morning light crept through the patched curtains of Demir's hut, glinting off the steel pommel of Wolf's Vow resting beside his bedroll. The sword gleamed faintly, almost as if it was alive. It reflected the soft crackle of the nearby forge's dying embers. Demir stretched, rubbed his sore arms, and grumbled, "Feels like I wrestled Asena all night."
He washed his face with cold basin water, the shock bringing him fully awake. Strapped on his belt. Today's the day, he thought. Time to stop being just the guy who swings a hammer and start being the guy who builds something worth defending.
Marco pushed open the door without knocking, grinning. "Good, beautiful day in Safe Hollow, isn't it?"
"Is that the official name of the town?" Demir asked, toweling his face dry.
"Well, Sel calls it that."
"Sel. Sel. Really." Demir's eyebrows shot up. "Oh my, what happened when I was gone?"
Marco's ears turned red. "Shut up. I'm married in another universe."
"Sure, sure." Demir laughed.
When he stepped outside, Safe Hollow was waking up. Still half mud, half miracle. Smoke curled from makeshift chimneys. Children carried buckets of water from the well. Hunters dragged haunches of meat toward the cookfires. The settlement was growing, raw but determined.
Demir made his way to the headquarters, a repurposed barn with a stitched-together banner fluttering over it. The fabric was patched from old clothes and torn tents. He knocked twice and stepped inside.
Thalia was at a desk covered in parchment, eyes shadowed with sleeplessness. Her usually neat hair was coming loose from its braid. Across from her, Roderic sat in a chair, chest wrapped in fresh bandages. His once steady hands trembled slightly as he tried to lift a cup of tea.
"Roderic," Demir said quietly, genuine concern in his voice. "You look better."
The old soldier chuckled hoarsely. "Better? I can barely raise a mug. But I'm alive, thanks to your sword arm."
Thalia glanced up, relief washing over her tired features. "Demir, I heard you were back. I am glad you are alive."
"I have news," Demir said, stepping forward. His boots left mud prints on the wooden floor. "And... something bigger than news. I need to speak to everyone. Not just the council. Everyone who calls this place home."
Roderic frowned, setting down his cup with shaking hands. "All two hundred of them?"
"Yes," Demir said firmly. "Every last one."
An hour later, a crowd formed in the open square. A ring of wooden houses, stone foundations, and a single forge puffing lazy smoke. The wind carried the scent of roasting meat and iron dust. People clustered together, whispering. Miners with coal-stained hands. Mages in tattered robes. Hunters with bows across their backs.
Demir stood on a crate in front of them, Wolf's Vow in one hand, his Wyvern-scale shield strapped to the other. His voice carried over the murmuring crowd.
"Everyone! I know what you've all been feeling these last few years." He paused, breath visible in the morning chill. "We came here for fun, for skills, for danger-free excitement. We used to level up by grinding or following practiced builds. But now..." His voice grew stronger. "Now the system's changed."
One person shouted from the back, "No! It's closed!"
"No," Demir corrected firmly. "It's changed. I had a theory, but now I'm sure."
He held up his sword, letting the light catch its blade. The orichalcum gleamed with inner fire. "You've all seen it, haven't you? That flash. That flicker, like lightning in your head for just a second. When you're focused or desperate. That's not a glitch. That's the world telling you something."
People nodded. Miners, mages, hunters. They'd all felt it. The whispered agreement rippled through the crowd.
"That," Demir said, voice rising with conviction, "is how this world works now. The old leveling system's gone. The game isn't feeding us skills anymore. We earn them by being the thing. By living it." He paced on the crate, gesturing. "Swing your sword enough, you'll gain the instincts of a fighter. Brew enough potions, you'll become an alchemist. Build. Fail. Try again. That's how you gain your titles."
He lifted the shield next, scales catching sunlight in rainbow patterns. "I made these with my own hands. And I couldn't have done it without masters showing me the way. So I'm telling you this. Find your mentors. Teach each other. Learn by doing. You can all forge, heal, hunt, cast. You just don't have the buttons anymore."
The crowd was silent. But the air buzzed with something electric. Hope. Then murmurs began spreading. Hope mixed with disbelief. Laughter from some corners.
Thalia stepped closer, her mage staff clicking on stone. "Demir, you're saying anyone can gain these titles?"
"Exactly," he said, meeting her eyes. "Anyone who's willing to bleed for them."
He looked out across the settlers. People who'd once been players, farmers, soldiers. "We've lost the comfort of systems, but we've gained something better. Freedom to shape ourselves."
Then he grinned, raising his sword high. "Also, anyone with iron or steel, bring it to me! I'll forge weapons, armor, tools, whatever you need. Payment? Just patience."
Laughter rippled through the crowd, releasing tension.
"And one last thing," he added, pointing toward the forest ridge. "If you see a giant wolf about this tall..." He gestured with his hand far above his head. "Don't panic. Her name's Asena. She's... complicated. Think of her as the settlement's very grumpy protector."
The laughter grew louder, more genuine. Someone in the back shouted, "You sure you're not the one being tamed?"
Demir smirked. "I'm working on that."
The speech ended in cheers and clapping. It wasn't polished. But it was honest.
Matthis and Thalia approached afterward, peppering him with questions. How the flashes worked. Whether crafting titles could overlap. Before Demir could answer everything, Marven appeared. Bow slung across her back and a teasing smile on her lips.
"Quite the speech, hero," she said, voice pitched to carry just enough. "You can't make bows, can you?"
Demir laughed. "Not yet. Why, you want one?"
"If you can make one like your sword."
"If we can find the right ingredients. But first, I may need your help?"
"Anything for you." She looked sideways provocatively, green eyes sparkling.
Demir gulped and blushed, heat rising to his cheeks. "You are one of the hunters of the settlement. You know almost everything about the forest nearby, right?"
"Like the back of my hand."
"Okay. Show me the weakest animals."
Her grin widened. "Oh, this I have to see."
They set out into the forest that afternoon. Marven moved like a shadow between the trees, footsteps silent on moss and leaves. Demir clanked after her like a one-man band, armor creaking with every step.
"Step lighter," she hissed, crouching behind a fallen log. "You're scaring everything from here to the next kingdom."
"I'm trying," Demir whispered back, attempting to tiptoe in full gear. "Not everyone was born a sneaky elf wannabe."
Marven stifled a laugh as a squirrel darted across their path, bushy tail flicking. "There! That's your target. Go on, mighty beast tamer."
Demir crouched, hands out like he was approaching a holy relic. Moving slowly. Very slowly. "Easy now, little guy. Hey! Come back!" The squirrel vanished up a tree in seconds.
Marven was doubled over laughing, clutching her sides. "Oh, this is gold. The slayer of goblins, defeated by a squirrel."
Demir sighed, brushing bark from his gloves. "Maybe rabbits?"
They spent the afternoon like that. Demir trying to tame anything that moved. From squirrels to birds. Each attempt ended in mild disaster. A bird stole his hair tie and flew away with it. A rabbit bit him hard enough to draw blood. And at one point, he tripped face-first into a bush full of thorns.
Marven was nearly crying from laughter, wiping tears from her eyes. "You're not taming! You're filming a comedy show!"
"Laugh it up," Demir grumbled, pulling thorns from his cheek one by one. "You're selling the same joke Carter did." He paused. "I'll have the last laugh when I'm riding into battle on a squirrel steed."
When they returned to Safe Hollow at dusk, the smell of cooked meat filled the air. Smoke rose from multiple cookfires. Asena appeared at the edge of the woods, tail flicking, golden eyes gleaming in twilight.
Marven whistled low. "And here comes your jealous girlfriend."
Asena growled, the sound vibrating through the ground.
"Don't provoke her," Demir hissed urgently. "Last time she shoved me into a river."
"I remember." Marven was still grinning.
That night became a rhythm that stretched into days. Demir forging weapons and armor by morning. Training by afternoon. And testing his patience with Asena by evening.
Sometimes, Asena brought back her own "gifts." A deer carcass dumped proudly at his feet. Or once, an entire tree she'd uprooted trying to chase a bear. The trunk was still smoking.
"Stop showing off," Demir muttered as she dropped a massive stag beside his tent. The animal must have weighed three hundred pounds.
Asena huffed, clearly unimpressed with his smaller hauls.
Marven called from the forge, laughing. "You know, for a spirit of the woods, she's got a petty streak."
Demir scowled. "Don't encourage her."
By the third week, Safe Hollow was alive with purpose. The forge blazed day and night. Hunters swapped tips with miners on crafting traps. Mages experimented with alchemical brews using old notes and new ingredients.
Demir moved among them, giving advice. Checking metals. Sometimes laughing when a novice's creation exploded into smoke and sparks.
He even started naming his forge apprentices. Half seriously, half mockingly.
"Alright, Arlo, you're 'Hammer Dropper' now. Don't hit the anvil like it owes you money."
"Yes, Master Demir!" came the chorus of laughter from the forge.
Late one evening, Demir stood at the forest edge again. Watching Asena's glowing eyes reflect the moonlight. He tossed her a chunk of meat, watching it arc through the air. "I'm onto you," he said conversationally. "You're not protecting me. You're just making sure I don't embarrass you again."
She snorted and trotted ahead into the darkness.
Demir sighed, then started walking beside her. The forest was peaceful at night. Crickets sang. Leaves rustled.
Before long, it turned into another silent contest. Demir jogging. Asena trotting faster. Demir running. Asena darting ahead and waiting, tail flicking mockingly.
"Fine," he panted, hands on knees. "You win. Again."
Asena growled softly, almost amused. She bumped him gently with her head. A push that turned a little too strong. Demir yelped, lost his balance, and tumbled down the small grassy slope into a puddle. Cold water splashed everywhere.
When he looked up, sputtering, Asena was looming over him. Tongue lolling in a wolfish grin.
"Yeah, yeah," Demir muttered, wiping mud from his face. "You win every time, don't you?"
Asena gave a satisfied huff and padded away toward the ridge, disappearing into shadow.
Demir sat there for a moment, laughing quietly to himself. Then it came. That familiar sensation.
[Bzzzt!]
The interference washed over him. Brief but unmistakable. He'd gained something. Not a level. But something.
He smiled, pushing himself to his feet. Covered in mud and exhausted. But somehow, for the first time in years, he felt like he was building toward something real.
Tomorrow, he'd forge more. Train more. Maybe even convince a rabbit not to bite him.
But tonight, sitting in mud with his impossible wolf companion watching from the trees, Demir Strovan was exactly where he needed to be.