Chapter 1: The first encounter in another world

A steam-filled kitchen, where chefs and waiters alike worked in a high pressure environment. Yelling, screaming, the chefs always show their dominance over the kitchen, but they do not stop working for but a second.

For they know they are not any better than the rest of the workers employed in the building. Even if one of them were to mess up, the whole kitchen will be sacked, and in this economy? Unemployment might as well be considered a death sentence. 

They are working with all kinds of precious ingredients that they would never otherwise get to see in their lifetimes. They cook fancy dishes to serve the rich everyday, but they have never seen or heard of any of their customers.  But most of them would never think of stealing, even of the wasteful scraps the rich throw away. The last person to do that was sentenced to two years of unpaid labor at the "Farm", a sentence worse than death.

"Kid! Work them hands! Stop slacking, will ya?"

"Hey Charlie, haul this sack to the peelers!"

Tossing his nutritious jelly package squeezed clean of its content into the trash bin, a young man tiredly roused from the stoll he was sitting. His break wasn't even over yet, but he understood his co-workers' urging - he would too if someone on the team takes a break when the customers are waiting for their meal with thin patience. So Charlie hoisted the bag of potatoes to the designated peelers and continued to caramelize onion as he was doing before.

Charlie doesn't feel sad or pity, not anymore since he turned twenty. 

He now just works and eats and sleeps and then works again. Just like his parents. Just like millions upon millions of the labor class.

A true corporate drone.

Nothing but an obedience drone, a slave to an unfair hierarchy that he was born into.

At least he still gets paid and can afford the cheapest nutritious jelly and rent of his apartment that he shared with his brother.

Besides working, Charlie's only entertainment output was gaming, but the exhaustion has been catching up to him much easier lately, so his gaming time would get cut short.

What a terrible life.

He thought as a sad smile appeared on his lips as he curled onto the synthetic plank he called bed.

===

"Huh?"

Charlie exclaimed. His back was wet and cold, his head ached and limbs dulled. The sunlight pierced the green, thick tree branches, streaming down golden rays of light.

He slowly sat up, eyes opened wide. 

Where am I? - He thought, looking down at his two hands. 

He was not in his room where he last laid down and slept. He was not wearing his favorite pajama, but a weird medieval-ish outfit consisting of a loose shirt, a leather vest and breeches, his feets are covered with cloth wrappings, held in place by ropes tied on his ankles.

Panic started to set in. Charlie heaved, the cold, damp air completely woke him up. 

Cold. 

He instinctively trembled and took a look around him. He's currently sitting in a small clearing, surrounded by trees and bushes, thick foliage and brambles.

This is definitely not my room. 

He gritted his teeth, tears welled up on the corner of his eyes.

"How did I get here? Was I kidnapped?"

He muttered while standing up. At least he is not bound or restrained. His body ached and was lethargic. 

Charlie now paid attention to the unusual items laying on the grass around him. A leather backpack, lid closed neatly leaning on a small boulder, a quiver with arrows and a wooden longbow with simple carving. A small dagger, still in scabbard and a handaxe laid next to the bow, and finally a small knife with wooden handle, its blade plunged deep in the grass.

Charlie didn't seem to think anymore. This is too much information for any sane person to handle at once. So he reached out for the backpack. He unlocked the metal loop, lifting the leather lid up and looking at the content inside. The first thing he saw inside was a roll of rope, a wooden stake with cloth wrapped at one end, he assumed it was a torch, a brownish bag full of liquid and a small pouch with 10 golden coins inside. There is a metal box that Charlie realizes is a mess kit - a simple portable container that can be used as a pan, a plate or a cup, usually equipped for marching soldiers and the like. Inside the mess kit was a fork, a portion of dried meat and hard biscuits wrapped in green leaf and a box of tinder. There is a small bottle of black liquid with a long, white feather - paired together, Charlie guessed that they are ink and quill. And finally, a piece of leathery material, wrapped in itself and tied with a red band - a scroll of sorts.

Charlie took the scroll out and pulled on the band to untie it. 

"This is my handwriting…" - he said, opening up the scroll and peering at the content inside. An intriguing emotion appeared on Charlie's face. He recognized the writing inside.

Dexterity, Strength, Constitution

Current HP, Armor Class

Huh… interesting…

"I am inside a game, am I not?" - He asked, but there was no answer. The corner of his mouth curled up at the sudden relief, his eyes closed shut as if he was savoring a delicacy of sorts. 

Very funny, brother... 

Charlie thought and dropped the scroll, bringing both of his hands to his face and attempted to grab the space before his eyes. But he grasped nothing. He stood there silently and tried again to no avail. He pushed his hand on his cheeks with an upward motion until his fingers brushed his hair. 

"This is… not VR…huh?" 

He uttered, still holding his hands still. 

"Fuck."

Oh how he had hoped that he was actually pranked by his brother while asleep. He had hoped that his hands would reach the non-existent virtual reality device. Yet, he was not in any kind of game, no VR game at that time could simulate all his senses like that. The damp, cold air, the wet sensation of the dew, seeped through his back.

There is no other explanation.

===

"So, I am stuck in another world huh…"

Charlie exclaimed, sitting on a small boulder. He has equipped the backpack and took in every piece of equipment on the ground. The handaxe was hung on the loop of his breeches waist, the dagger he hoisted on the side of his leather vest. The paring knife he wrapped with a piece of leaf and hid inside his cloth footwear. Charlie was strangely calm despite the absurdity of the situation, his hand holding the scrolled up piece of soft leather. He leaned back and looked up to the tall branches and breathed out dramatically.

"I can't believe this is happening…"

He has already read through the content of the scroll twice, while trying to find any clue to how he was abandoned inside a forest to no avail. But Charlie understood what the scroll's content was. 

Strength - 12, Dexterity - 12,  Constitution - 12, Intelligence - 13, Wisdom - 15, Charisma - 12

This was the so-called stats - the basic status - the bread and butter of any RPGs. And it looked like he was pretty average on every stat. Nothing stood out, except for maybe the Wisdom. Charlie sighed, it is true that he was a pretty average guy, struggling to keep in shape and have difficulty in social interaction.

Current HP - 11, Max - 11

Enough said, that was his Hit points, his health, his lifeforce. 11. Not an encouraging number, or so it seemed. When it hit 0, would he die? Would he get transported back to his world, on his bed under his blanket? Would it be like a lucid dream - a dream where he had gained consciousness and the only way to escape was to kill himself? He didn't know, and he didn't have the guts to try. Charlie took a glance at his axe and quickly averted his eyes. If this is a dream, it is too real… I'm not taking any chances…

Armor class - 12

Now this was an important aspect. Armor class. Not many games use this term. Charlie pondered, he understood the system, and Armor class is usually a term used in tabletop games. This is the stat correlated to his protection, as well as his evasive ability. The higher the number, the harder it is for attacks to damage him. He could either wear more armor or practice dodging to increase his Armor class - or so he remembered.

Charleston Fogsorrow - Male Variant Human Ranger - Level 1

This was the most confusing part for Charlie. The name Charleston Fogsorrow was obviously not his name. He was Charlie Fortman. But of course, if he was holding a bow and arrow and daggers, this world might be a fantasy world, so modern names such as his might not be appropriate. But Fogsorrow? What kind of name is that? Terrible…

Ranger - Level 1

So it would seem Charlie appeared to be a Ranger - a type of warrior who is skilled at fighting the creatures that endanger the outskirts of society—human-like invaders, wild animals and horrors, fearsome giants, and even dragons. A ranger's skills and powers are sharpened with lethal intent on the grim mission of defending the frontiers. And he was currently level 1 - the usual starting level for any player. Could he level up? Will he get stronger? More HP? More stats? How would leveling up work in real life? Charlie didn't know.

Not my usual class - Charlie thought, as he would prefer to be a Sorcerer or a Barbarian, but of course, he was not. A Sorcerer must have innate ability to use magic, and a Barbarian must have the strength to do so. But Charlie is a human, not a genius spellcaster nor a strongman. 

And finally, at the bottom of the scroll, an unknown handwriting reveals a sentence

O great Sage, do travel to the end of the world, on the Northern Grand mountain range , I will see you again by our white wisteria. 

"Hmmm… So what would I do first in this kind of game?"

He has collected his starting equipment - a bow and quiver with arrows, a dagger, a knife, a handaxe and a backpack full of necessary adventuring items. So the next logical thing to do was…

Charlie pulled the dagger out of the scabbard hanging on his leather vest and gripped tightly. He spun the blade around, holding the dagger in a reverse position, then he flicked his wrist to point it forward. He was proficient enough with a knife as he used them everyday for his job.

He has not seen any dangerous monsters or wild animals yet. The forest was quiet. Weirdly quiet.

So at least, he can protect himself with the weapons he's given. He didn't choose the longbow because he has never used one before, and it was unexpectedly difficult for him to fully pull the string taut, the handaxe seems too top heavy, so he decided that the dagger will have to do.

Charlie stood up and slowly walked toward the treeline. The forest was thick with foliage, but it was not difficult to traverse. Charlie carefully stepped around the bushes to walk randomly in a direction. He had no thought in mind, except - I must find a town or someone to help me.

He walked and walked, passing through the soft ground covered in leaves, jumping over puddles and rocks and fallen branches. He had never felt this easy to move around. The terrain was littered with stones and bushes, uneven grounds and muddy pits. But he traversed them all with ease.

Might be the innate Ranger ability.

He quickly dashed through the forest for a good amount of time before stopping dead in his tracks. Sounds. Something loud could be heard ahead of him. It constantly rumbled, as if a train was passing by or thunder clouds continuously rumbling.

Is it… a river…?

He continued on walking forward. If there was a river, he could follow it upstream to find a village or a town - Charlie thought that was how humans choose to build their home, near a source of clean water and food, at least that was what remained of the little knowledge he learned in school. He excitedly skipped over a large boulder, and the trees seemed to become more sparse. The sound of rushing water got louder and louder, confirming that a river must be coursing through nearby.

Charlie was instinctively running now. His equipment felt too heavy, but he still ran as fast as he could despite stepping in the murky water puddles he had carefully evaded till now. The slimy liquid seeped into his cloth footwear, making him more uncomfortable than he would care to admit. 

And suddenly, he left the treeline behind. He was standing on the bank of an aggressively flowing river, breathing like a horse. 

A river… yes! Now I just need to go upstream… The river is flowing to the right, so I will go to the left!

He nodded, thinking that it's logical enough to follow the river for now. He looked to his left and started walking, his mind eased with the thought that soon he will be able to find help. He walked and walked, the air was refreshing and clear and the sun shined. Normal weather had become a rare occurrence in Charlie's old world due to the irreversible environmental damage caused by the ever growing corporation and population. Since birth, Charlie had never directly felt sunlight on his skin and breathed natural air - man made lights and chemically filtered air was the necessity for life in Charlie's poisonous world.

But now, he breathed lungfuls of sweet, moist air.

He was bathing in warm sunlight.

And he contemplated.

And then he saw them as he reached a narrow clearing.

Humanoid creatures with green skin, standing as tall as a human child. Their faces radiated a strangely devious expression, with their long noses. Without any doubt, Charlie identified them as Goblins. There seemed to be three goblins ahead of him, two of which were trying to pull some kind of sack towards the treeline while one stood guard. 

Goblins are generally evil and mischievous and most sentient races consider them to be monsters. But are these goblins evil - Charlie pondered, as in the modern media, not all goblins were represented as simple-minded monsters - Should I leave them be? Charlie definitely didn't want any trouble with them, risking his life right now would not be the wisest choice of action. His stats were merely average for a level 1, he had no training on how to use a bladed weapon, let alone a longbow. He had light leather armor, easily pierced with any kind of weapon.

But then Charlie froze and instinctively swallowed his saliva. He didn't notice at first, but now with a second glance, those goblins were pulling on a body by its arms. The body looked small and slim, only as big as a large sack of potatoes. Charlie can now see the crimson red color on the outfit of the body. 

He heard the goblins bickered and bantered, their protruding fangs moved with their laughter when one kicked the unconscious captive.

"H…Hey!..."

He called out and immediately regretted his action. His voice sounded like a wet mew from a kitten as his throat dried out causing him to swallow again. All three goblins turned around, their jolly banter stopped and fixed their gazes on him, their dull, yellow eyes looking like they're bulging out of their head.

Fuck! I fucked up!

Charlie took a step back, gripping his dagger tight, his back and forehead slicked with sweat. The goblins, on the other hand, laughed menacingly, yelling out their distinct, filthy language while pulling out their weapons.

"HUMAN… KILL HUMAN!"

"MORE FOOD! KILL KILL!"

"GO QUICK QUICK! HUMAN RUN!"

Somehow, Charlie could understand their simple tongue. Their voices sounded cruel and unusually high, mixed with evil intent. Their language sounded crude and merely made of basic nouns and verbs, yet somehow he could understand it directly without even thinking. His legs shook uncontrollably, his dagger-holding hand raised in an attempt to dissuade the monsters from approaching him. But it seemed that his amateur stance and profusely shaking hands didn't help.

The goblins immediately dashed toward him, raising their crude weapons. One goblin held a wooden spear whose head is made from sharpened stone, another a stone hatchet. And the third one…

A hiss cut through the air, and Charlie got knocked down on his behind. His left shoulder burned with a sharp pain, a pain he has never experienced before.

"Guhhh!"

He cried out, his right hand creeping up to find the crude wooden shaft of an arrow, lodged in the leather shoulder pad. Blood began to trickle out onto his palm. But this wasn't time to pass out. If he couldn't move now, he would be slain by these goblins. He scrambled and crawled to stand up and ran. Every step he took sent a shockwave from his wound throughout his entire body. 

This pain was real. Too real.

Ah… I feel light headed…

Should I pull the arrow out? No way… I can barely move right now…

He took off running, dropping his dagger on the ground. The goblins don't give up their prey that easily, their cackling sent shivers down his spine. Charlie unsheathed his handaxe, his whole left arm is now numb. With a smooth motion, he turned around and located the evil monsters, who were running toward him with terrible terrible thoughts in their little heads.

I must fight back… I can't run much farther…

His blood had dyed the shirt red. 

He held the handaxe by the end of the handle, leaned back and threw it with all his might. 

It might have been luck, it might have been an incredible coincidence. The spear-wielding goblin, who was leading the charge, immediately fell, a spurt of red blood creating an arc in the air. The handaxe found its target in between the creature's brows.

"GRAAA HUMAN KILL! HUMAN BAD!!!"

The archer goblin yells, raising his shortbow to seek revenge for his fallen comrade. Goblins are simple creatures. They love killing and stealing for their own good, they don't mind raiding villages and towns, kidnapping women and children and stealing stocks and tools. And they love killing those who harm their family. Not because they loved the other goblins but simply because they wanted revenge. Less goblins meant more food for themselves, less goblins meant more chances for them to mate. 

Yet… Goblins and other creatures did not match. They were the pawns of chaos - they hunt, they kill, they mate, they multiply,...

The archer released the bowstring, the arrow flew straight, finding purchase on his right thigh. Charlie yelled out in pain, tears and sweat dropped indiscriminately down his cheeks and chin. But he gritted his teeth, kneeling down and taking out his small knife.

I'm gonna die… I'm gonna die, am I not?

The goblin with the hatchet rushed to him, its cruel yellow eyes glared at Charlie and its tongue licked its lips. With the rest of his strength, Charlie pounced on the goblin with his left leg, bringing the knife with an upward thrust from below. The motion burned his shoulder and thigh, but the knife striked true. The blade stabbed the green creature in its rib with a sickly tearing sound and soon deep red blood oozed out on Charlie's hand. The goblin dropped its hatchet and clawed at the knife, its mouth muttering nonsense: "ga guu guu ga..". Charlie twisted his hand, the blade scraped against hard rib bone with a cruel cracking sound and the goblin slumped on him, clearly any life left in the creature was now gone.

It hurts…it fucking hurt….

Charlie released the knife handle, his vision gone blurry from the pain the arrows inflicted. He felt as if there were two red hot balls attached to his shoulder and thigh. And before long, he lost consciousness.