The night deepened, above the plains of Pandora , the three moons watched silently. Luna shone bright silver. Vaelor glowed softly beside it. Cyris, the red moon, lingered like a quiet warning in the distance. Aragorn sat near a small cluster of rocks by the roadside. A weak fire burned in front of him. The wind had grown colder. For the first time since leaving Rivergate , there were no walls behind him.
No guards, No protection, No kingdom, Just open land. He wrapped his thin cloak tighter around himself.
"So this is freedom," he muttered.
A strange sound interrupted him. A low growl, he froze. The grass a few meters away began to move. Another growl followed sharper this time. From the shadows stepped two creatures. Their bodies were thin and gray, their eyes glowing faint yellow.
F-Rank Night Crawlers ( Small monsters, Weak, But dangerous to someone exhausted ) Aragorn slowly stood up. His hand moved toward his sword.
"Of course," he whispered. "First night outside and already a test."
The creatures circled him, One lunged. Aragorn barely reacted in time. He swung the sword clumsily. The blade struck the creature's side, not deep but enough to push it back. The second one jumped from the side. Claws scratched his arm.
"Ah !"
He stumbled but forced himself to stay upright. Back in his world, he had only played games. There was no reset here, the first creature attacked again. This time, Aragorn steadied his breathing. Don't panic, Watch their movement. As the monster leapt, he stepped aside and thrust his blade forward. The sword pierced through its chest. Warm blood spilled onto the ground. The second creature hesitated. Aragorn's heart pounded loudly. "I'm not… dying here," he growled. With a desperate swing, he cut across its neck. The body fell, silence returned. Only the wind moved again. Aragorn dropped to one knee, breathing heavily. His arm burned from the scratch, but it wasn't deep. He looked at the dead monsters.
"I survived..."
Not gracefully, Not like a hero but he survived. He fed more wood into the fire and stayed awake the rest of the night. He understood something clearly now this world would not show mercy.
Morning Arrival
When the first light of dawn spread across the plains, Aragorn continued walking. His body felt tired, but his steps were steadier than before. After several hours, wooden fences appeared in the distance. Small houses with straw roofs. Thin smoke rising from chimneys.
Ravenholt Village...!
It was smaller than he expected. Fields of wheat surrounded it. A narrow river flowed nearby. Chickens wandered freely across the dirt roads. No grand gates, No stone walls, Just simple life.
As he entered, a few villagers looked at him cautiously. An old man repairing a cart paused.
"You a traveler?" the old man asked.
"Yes," Aragorn replied. "Looking for work."
The old man studied his sword.
"You an adventurer?"
Aragorn hesitated...
"…Not officially."
The old man chuckled.
"That means you're broke."
Aragorn gave a small, tired smile.
"Something like that."
The old man extended his hand.
"Name's Daren. I handle most trade shipments here."
"Aragorn."
"Well, Aragorn, we don't get many sword carrying men here. Closest Adventurer Guild is two days north in Brightshore's territory."
"I'm not heading there yet."
Daren nodded slowly.
"If you can swing that blade and don't cause trouble, you can stay. We always need help guarding supply wagons and keeping wild beasts away from crops."
It wasn't glorious, It wasn't heroic, But it was honest.
"I'll take it," Aragorn said.
A Place to Stay Daren arranged a small empty storage house near the river for him. It had a wooden bed, a cracked window, and a table. Simple, But it was his. That evening, Aragorn sat on the edge of the bed. For the first time since being banished, he felt something unfamiliar stability.
"I'll grow slowly," he murmured.
"No more rushing."
If rank defined the world he would climb one step at a time. Through real fights, Real work, Real experience. Outside, villagers laughed as they returned from the fields. No one here cared about S-Rank or F-Rank. They cared about survival, and that felt… peaceful.
The Watching Shadows
Night fell once more, The three moons rose again over Ravenholt. But this night felt different. Far beyond the wheat fields, past the rolling hills… On the dark ridge of a distant mountain shapes moved.
Large...
Heavy....
Glowing eyes watched the village below. One of them spoke in a rough voice.
"Human settlement confirmed."
Another growled
"No strong aura detected."
A third voice laughed softly
"Easy prey."
From the shadows, multiple figures stepped forward. Not Night Crawlers, Something bigger, Something organized.
Ravenholt slept peacefully, Unaware...!
And in a small wooden house near the river the only man in the village carrying a sword slowly opened his eyes.
As if he felt it....The coming storm.....!!!!