The old man in the corner told Raymond a story about greed.
His name was Gumede, a third-level wizard apprentice. He'd spent his life wandering, studying, dreaming of becoming a true wizard.
That morning, his favorite apprentice, Talant, had ambushed him in this very room. The boy had tried to loot everything the old man owned. Gumede managed to wound him and drive him off, but not before Talant's petrification spell had landed. Now Gumede sat here, slowly turning to stone, with no way to stop it.
So when he realized Raymond wasn't his simpleton servant, the old man actually looked relieved—despite fighting for his life against the petrification creeping through his body. He'd struck a deal with Raymond. Not that Raymond had any say in it.
The terms: within three years, Raymond had to deliver Gumede's journal to a place called Golan Heights and hand it to a first-level wizard named Mishur. He'd also have to tell Mishur everything that happened here.
In return, Raymond got all of Gumede's belongings, plus a way past the blood-sucking insects swarming outside—a special ointment that would let him escape before the fire consumed everything.
The fire from the stable had already spread to the main building. Raymond stood in the doorway, skin slathered with a greasy, foul-smelling paste that made his pale face look even sicklier. He'd traded the servant's rags for a white robe like the old man's. A gleaming badge hung from his chest, about palm-sized, covered in intricate lines that vaguely formed a pointed tower. Below the tower were a few strange symbols.
A small bundle hung from his hand. On his feet were short boots that felt like animal hide.
He turned back one last time. The flames had reached the old man, who was now completely stone from head to toe. Fire licked at his petrified body, dancing across his rigid face. Raymond gave a slow bow, then turned and walked out.
The reeking paste did its job. The swarming blood-sucking insects buzzing outside scattered the moment Raymond stepped through the door, desperate to avoid him.
According to Gumede's instructions, he needed to cross the forest ahead, leave the Oran Empire—the land Talant served—find a port with ships bound for Golan Heights, and actually make it on board one.
Raymond looked down the path leading to the nearby town and let out a bitter laugh. Gumede had pointed him in the exact opposite direction—toward the far side of this dark, looming forest.
He knew the forest was dangerous. The shadows between those trees probably hid a hundred ways to die. But he didn't have a choice. The town down that road? Still part of the Oran Empire. Talant's territory.
No map. No useful memories to draw on. Just a direction.
Raymond turned his back on the town path and plunged into the black forest.
He walked all night, keeping a straight line as best he could. The chip's night vision came in handy—no need to stumble around with a torch, painting a target on his back.
The chip also analyzed the air. Different from Earth's. Higher oxygen content. Weirder inert gases. And something else—active particles it couldn't fully identify. Trace radiation, the chip reported. Low-level, but constant. Harmful over time.
Definitely not Earth anymore.
Dawn broke, and Raymond kept walking. With the chip's night vision, he'd already seen plenty of strange things during the dark hours—plants and animals that had no business existing on any planet he knew.
A lizard-like thing with three heads, faint red flames flickering along its skin.
A bird with no feathers, wrapped in six sets of wings, hanging upside down from a branch.
Transparent insects that moved in swarms, giving off a sharp, irritating smell.
He hadn't run into serious trouble yet. But the chip's monitoring picked up plenty of eyes in the darkness. Nocturnal hunters, watching from the shadows, studying him. Some growled low warnings as he passed. The chip spotted them from far enough away that Raymond could circle around their territories.
By dawn, his storage had a growing library of audio clips and images—forest sounds, animal calls, things to avoid.
But as he pushed deeper, the plants started becoming a problem.
A tree that looked like an ordinary banyan would blast out a cloud of black mist whenever an animal got too close. The mist knocked them out cold. Then thin branches would slowly reach down, wrap around the victim, and hoist them up into the canopy. Fertilizer.
Vines hiding on the ground would suddenly lash out, coiling tight around anything that stepped near. They'd squeeze until their prey turned into paste, then absorb everything—blood, bone, the works. Nothing left.
By daytime, the real predators came out. Big things. Mean-looking things. Things Raymond had no interest in meeting.
He slowed down.
Moving through the shadows, he kept collecting data. Every growl, every roar, every screech—the chip stored it all. And Raymond figured out how to use them.
If he played back the right sounds at the right time...
The chip helped him map out predator-prey relationships. Some of the scariest beasts had natural enemies that terrified them. Size didn't always matter. He watched a three-meter tall monster—something like a bear crossed with a tiger—get taken down in seconds by a bird no bigger than his head.
He avoided everything. Kept his distance. Played it safe.
Then came day three.
Raymond crested a small hill, and a cave mouth opened up right in front of him. Before he could react, something burst out.
A beast. Three meters tall. Built like a bear, but wrong—too many teeth, too much muscle, eyes that locked onto him like he was prey.
Raymond's blood went cold.
It roared. Deep. Angry. The sound of something defending its territory.
Shit.
"Playback," he commanded the chip. "Loud."
ROOOAR! A different roar blasted from... somewhere. From him. The chip projected it outward, a sound that didn't belong to any creature Raymond had seen.
The bear-thing froze. Its eyes went wide for half a second.
Then they turned red.
Wrong move.
The roar didn't scare it. It enraged it.
The beast dropped to all fours and charged.
Raymond turned and ran. His foot hit something—a root, a rock, he didn't know—and suddenly he was tumbling, rolling down the hill, branches whipping his face, rocks digging into his ribs. He caught a glimpse over his shoulder as he fell—
The beast leaped.
Its red eyes locked on him. Its massive body sailed through the air, jaws open, claws outstretched.
Right behind him.