The worst death for a construction worker isn't being crushed by a concrete beam or falling into a slurry of cement and sand. The worst death for us is being swallowed alive by the roots of a deeply strange tree. A tree so enormous it refuses to be felled.
A tropical sun was scorching our project site when that harrowing incident occurred. The air was brutally hot, and dust from the excavator billowed in every direction.
The last thing that crossed my mind was the moment the excavator's steel blade touched bark as hard as stone — the ground beneath my feet suddenly split open. The sound wasn't like wood being cleaved and broken, but like glass shattering into a thousand pieces.
The tree's roots appeared pitch black, then rose from the loosening earth. They moved like octopus tentacles. Then they coiled around my body with crushing force, as though intent on grinding my bones to dust.
It happened so fast that none of the other workers likely saw a thing. I didn't even manage a single scream. My body was dragged down into the darkness beneath those roots. The tree swallowed me whole, and I remember nothing after that.
Then I was roused by a salty taste on my tongue. As my eyes struggled to open, my nose caught the sharp reek of sulfur.
Cough... cough... I hacked and spluttered. Seawater poured from my mouth, mixed with a little sand. I tried to push myself up from the stretch of white sand and the lapping surf. This place was foreign. I couldn't recognize anything around me. My head throbbed with pain.
This was clearly not a road-leveling project site. It wasn't a hospital either — let alone the afterlife. But if I truly was dead, would the realm of the dead have a violet-blue sky?
"Get out of my way, you lowly creature!"
I felt a sharp kick land squarely on my ribs. I was slammed back into the wet sand. "Ow!" I yelped.
The pain from that kick was all too real. Which meant I was still breathing.
I looked up, squinting against the blinding glare of the sun. For some reason, the sun here felt more scorching, more punishing.
Before me stood the figure of a tall, gaunt man. His ears were pointed. His hair was the color of moss — filthy with sea mud.
He wore a silk robe that was soaking wet and tattered. It might once have been beautiful and luxurious.
In his palm, I spotted a clump of golden liquid glowing with a blinding brilliance. The substance shimmered even under the blazing heat.
"Magically defective. Reeking of working-class sweat. Hmph! Utterly useless," the elf hissed. His eyes regarded me with disgust, as though I were toxic waste fouling his environment.
He continued, "Dimensional refuse spat out by the Lagoon's current. Don't you dare let a single drop of your drool near our fresh water supply, Human!"
The elf turned away with an imperious toss of his body, then rejoined a group of individuals dressed similarly to himself. The cluster of elves had gathered in the shade of a colossal coconut tree.
They spoke loudly among themselves in a foreign tongue — yet strangely, I could understand every word they said. It seemed they were squabbling over shaded spots. Several elves flaunted sparking bursts of luminous energy from their hands to intimidate one another.
I clutched my aching ribs where I'd been kicked. I forced myself to stand, then looked around for somewhere to sit.
In the distance, an even more bewildering sight spread before my eyes. Utterly incomprehensible to me.
Half-human, half-ape creatures were scaling enormous trees. Not one or two — dozens of them. They howled wildly, brawling, clawing, and fighting over spiky fruits dangling from the branches of giant pines.
In another corner of the beach, I spotted chunks of rust-covered, humanoid-shaped metal. Perhaps the remains of failed android robots. These machines sat motionless like mechanical corpses, the energy cores in their chests flickering dimly.
A little further toward the lagoon, a wooden outrigger boat was moored in the shallows. Its sail was worn and ragged. The water was clear as glass.
Fishermen with very dark skin watched the gathered outcasts — elf and ape-man alike — with wary, unblinking eyes. Their hands gripped serrated spears. They looked ready to kill anyone bold enough to encroach on their waters.
Where on earth was I?
Panic seized my chest. I plunged my hand into the wet pocket of my work uniform. I searched for my phone and wallet — but there was nothing. Not a single thing.
My panic deepened.
It seemed there was no way home.
Had I been stranded in a world different from my own? Was this a world of magic?
I was just an ordinary person. An ordinary civil engineer. I certainly had no combat ability whatsoever. I'd probably gasp for breath just from running fast.
I realized I had become the lowest, most vulnerable link in the food chain. I could easily become prey for the creatures here.
I was fully aware that I was surrounded by starving, outcast races, feral mutants, arrogant beings, and a place I didn't understand at all.
My old world had operated on the laws of physics. Work, and you get paid. But here, after watching the moss-haired elf ignite the tip of a branch with a flick of his slender fingers, I understood one thing with absolute clarity: Magic.
And to my misfortune, I didn't have a single drop of that mystical energy inside me.
I began to despair.
The image of my wife cooking dinner. The image of my child waiting by the front door. Those visions were torment.
If the world I was standing in were a game, I couldn't even qualify as the lowest-ranked slave. In the eyes of these creatures, I was probably just a lump of flesh not even worth eating.
Then I heard a rustling sound at my feet. A giant crab — the size of a full-grown dog.
It was crawling toward me.
Its shell was nothing like an ordinary crab's. The creature's back appeared to be made of thick, dark iron plating.
Its oversized claws clamped onto my work boot, as though trying to tear through the leather.
I was resigned to my life ending right then and there. There was nothing I could do.
But then the world around me flickered.
Not my eyes — reality itself appeared to glitch, like software lagging.
The vivid colors around me dimmed, fading to monochrome. Everything, except that iron crab. The creature was bathed in bright neon-blue outlines.
I heard a mechanical sound — like a notification prompt from urban design software. The sound hummed clearly inside my head.
[Interface Initialization Complete. Neural Integration Successful.]
[System 'The Blueprint Eye' Activated.]
Suddenly, crisp blue holographic text floated in the air like an Augmented Reality display.
[Target Detected: Pest-Class Specimen — Cancer Metallicus.]
[Material Status: Structural Integrity 100% (Low-Grade Organic Steel).]
[Weakness Analysis: Left Claw Hinge showing wear. Underside shell thickness: 0.2 cm.]
[Resource Extraction Potential: 0.5 Kilograms Raw Iron. Requires exposure to 200°C Teja heat radiation for optimal smelting process.]
I stood dumbstruck. My eyes blinked over and over. A stream of data kept flowing into my mind without pause.
I tried turning toward the strange palm tree where the outcast elves were sheltering in the distance. The moment my eyes locked onto the tree, a new holographic display instantly appeared.
[Natural Structure Detected: Iron-Nut Palm.]
[Hydration Capacity Per Fruit: 400ml. High electrolyte content.]
[Wood Durability Rating: High (Equivalent to Medium-Grade K-250 Concrete).]
[Recommended Usage: Foundation construction for saltwater bridges or wave-retaining structures.]
I shifted my gaze to both my palms, then swept my eyes across the entire island. This place was utterly foreign — a land where outcast creatures despised one another, blamed one another, and were perhaps willing to kill one another over fresh water.
They saw this land as a living hell. The outcast elves mourned their fates, while the ape-men had turned this place into a brutal arena.
And then, all at once, the Blueprint Eye's blue lines began mapping the island's contours inside my head — displaying topographic data, hidden energy flows, and structural stress calculations of the natural materials around me.
My despair vanished. In its place came a surge of adrenaline that hammered through my heart.
"All right," I muttered to myself. I kicked the iron crab squarely at its weakened left claw hinge. The strange creature went flying.
"Time to draw up the Bill of Quantities."