A Week in a New World
It had been a week since I arrived in this strange world. I stood by the window, watching adventurers appear and disappear as if they controlled the very laws of space. They could revive even after death, showing no fear of dying.
They seemed immortal, touching invisible things in the air. I noticed they all had similar blue floating text above them.
Listening closely to their conversations, I learned they weren't from this world.
They couldn't freely enter or leave it. I wondered if I could do the same. I heard them chanting, "Log out." I tried it, but nothing happened. It was as if I was bound to this world, just like the merchants and innkeepers who seemed trapped here too. They acted as if this was normal.
From what I gathered, these immortals called this place a "game." The floating text was called a "system." It could disappear if you willed it and reappear when you called it in your mind or said "system" aloud.
Adventurers talked about quests and hidden quests—missions that rewarded them. They reminded me of mercenaries from my world. Many were on par with knights and swordmasters.
They relied on levels and strength, which they called stats. But mine were all question marks. The system couldn't analyze my strength—it looked broken and flickered constantly.
I planned to try some quests, but when I asked around, the adventurers refused to give me any. They said I was already too strong and didn't need quests.
They even said something strange: "You don't seem like a player. Who are you? " as if they knew I wasn't from this world.
I made up an excuse that I was a wandering mercenary, and they believed me. I didn't push for quests—it might raise suspicion or bring troublesome tasks.
Instead, I left the town where the adventurers gathered and followed them secretly, hiding in the trees.
They were fighting wolves and struggling. After watching for a while, I left to hunt bigger monsters.
The creatures here were weak compared to my world. I spotted a giant one-eyed monster—a Cyclops. There were three of them. I shot an arrow into one eye with half my strength.
The eyeball exploded, and the Cyclops's head followed. I had only used one percent of my strength—I didn't expect them to be this weak, or maybe I was just stronger.
I fired two arrows simultaneously to finish the other two.
The system flashed "You level up" ten times in a row. My level jumped to 10, and I gained 10 points. The question marks in my stats disappeared, replaced by numbers and plus signs:
Hans: Level 11
Age: 25
Strength: 100/999 +
Agility: 100/999 +
Stamina: 100/999 +
Mana: 0/0 +
Endurance: 100/999 +
It was clear I had no mana, but the plus signs meant I could add points. I tried to put all 10 points into mana, hoping to feel it in my body. At first, nothing happened, and my hope faded.
Then, suddenly, a surge of mana flowed through me. Joy overwhelmed me—it was the first time I had ever felt mana.
The books I had read as a mercenary taught me mana flowed like water and made you stronger.
I tried pulling my bowstring, pouring mana into the arrow, and shooting at a tree. The arrow's power was incredible—it created a strong wind, bending trees and blowing holes through them.
Over fifty trees were destroyed with a single shot. I cried tears of joy, thankful to feel mana and to be summoned to this world.
I planned to start my mercenary career here and continue my legacy—for my comrades who sacrificed everything so I wouldn't have to run away again.
Some said overexerting mana caused tiredness and dizziness, but I felt nothing. I ignored it for now and studied my stats. The 100/999 numbers had a lock icon, meaning they were sealed.
Perhaps my stats would increase as I leveled up.
Even though the system couldn't fully analyze my strength, I didn't feel weaker—only stronger.
Maybe it was because I now had mana, though it didn't feel different yet. Or maybe it was just the error data.
The Cyclops disappeared, dropping something shiny.
I looked closer—it was gold. It was my first time seeing monsters drop gold. In my old world, monsters didn't drop anything valuable; you worked for nobles to get missions.
Here, monsters dropped gold and equipment, though most looked like trash. I threw the trash away—it was no match for my gear.
Checking my system, a text appeared: Rank: Mythical. My equipment and arrows looked good, judging by their color and rank. I gathered the Cyclops's drops and stored them in the system's subspace.
They might sell for a good price.
Suddenly, I sensed someone approaching. I climbed a tree and hid, concealing my presence. Why were they coming here?