1 Prelude

The young man sat crouched in the kitchen of what he had assumed was an abandoned farmhouse. Night had fallen and what little light the young man had came through the kitchen windows over a countertop for cutting up fruits and vegetables and meats right in between two cupboards. The young man wished there wasn't any light. Because he could see the shadows as his teeth sank and tore at a stale loaf of bread. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about the bodies.

The bodies. They reeked of rotting flesh and meat. Even the blood stained floor around the bodies gave off a putrid odor.

The young man vomited upon the kitchen floor. He couldn't help it. The bodies, the smell, and the taste of moldy bread was too much for him to take. The light from the moon gave off a twisted and distorted reflection in the small puddle of vomit.

The young man's stomach growled and ached. He'd been running and walking all day. He was so hungry. Lost and afraid. An alien.

That's right. He was an alien here. Unwelcome and uninvited, into another world. A cruel world. A cruel world that made no sense to the young man. Everything about it was just so wrong. It was nothing like what the media he had been exposed to had suggested.

His first thoughts, his first words in this brand new world had been to declare it a "dream come true!"

That was of course after he'd nearly been killed in an accident. He never believed it could've happened to him. But isn't that what everyone thought when their mortality was faced with a cold check from reality.

Initially it had been a miracle. His head should have been split open from the tree. He should have lost the ability to feel. He should at the least have been paralized for life. But somehow, against all odds. He had missed the tree. Instead he had landed and rolled across patches of rough terrain and soft green grass.

His life had been spared by whatever deity had been watching over his sorry excuse for a life.

Was it a sorry excuse for a life? To many that answer would be "no." But not to Rhys.

One second, it was late in the evening. The next, it was early morning. The impact had left him dizzy and confused, covered in scrapes, bruises, and a couple of broken bones. But he had lived. That was the important thing, right?

Rhys had laughed and laughed where he had arrived in this new world.

Not only was his life spared by the gods but he was in a whole other world.

Surrounded by strange flora and wildlife not native to Earth.

The tricky bit was finding civilization. Rhys was still looking, that was why he was lost.

Then he met the monsters. Huge carnivorous beasts that wanted to have Rhys for breakfast.

His "dream come true," had become a living nightmare.

Rhys still didn't know who or what had summoned him into this world. That was how these things worked according to most media centered on young men like himself reincarnating into another world. But he hadn't died. He was sure beyond one hundred percent that he had survived the crash.

Weren't other worlds supposed to be filled with magic and adventure? Second chances and large harems? Not barely scraping by in a not so abandoned farm house with a pair of mutilated dead bodies.

Rhys took another bite of moldy bread and gagged. His reflexes, his instincts, and his tongue wanted him to spit it out. It tasted so dry. Every little bite he took produced a tiny cloud of moldy mist in front of his eyes. The first time he had sneezed on the moldy loaf in his hands.

It had been so long since he had eaten anything though… His stomach was aching terribly and he knew that he had to eat something. So Rys wiped the snot off of the moldy bread and took yet another bite.

His eyes stung with tears.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Just a couple days ago he had been at work. A summer time job in between college semesters. Where had it all gone wrong?

There was a sudden shift in the light pouring in from the window over Rhy's shoulders. A faint orange glow eating away at the shadows.

Rhys's breath hitched and he stared at the bodies.

With each passing minute the light grew stronger until most of the kitchen was basking in orange light.

Rhys sat the moldy bread down on the counter and slowly pushed himself up, making sure to keep himself out of view from the window.

Was he just imagining it or were those lights moving like fire? Had the person who'd killed these farmers come back to burn the evidence of the crime to nothing but ashes?

Rhys sneaked a small peek through the bottom corner of the window and covered his eyes from the intensity of the flames. He blinked. Were those…torches?

They were in fact torches. Not just a couple. There were dozens. Shadowy figures held burning sticks in one hand and weapons in the other.

Rhys scrambled away from the window and tripped over one of the bodies. His head smacked into the floor and he tried to get up but his foot had gotten caught beneath an arm from one of the bodies. Rhys kicked.

He could hear voices now.

"-hear that? Sounds like one of them murdering bastards is till inside!"

Wait.

Was this a mob?

Did they think he had killed the two farmers?

Rhys touched his head and groaned. That hurt.

"I say we torch the damn house! Flush em' out!"

"They won't get away with this!"

"String them up by the old muin tree!"

Rhys grabbed a wooden stool. It wasn't much of a weapon. He dropped it and grabbed a small cutting knife from a table.

This is bad!

Rhys clutched the knife to his chest and approached the front door.

From car crash, to monsters, to food poisoning, to murderous villagers.

"Well, it looks like I finally found civilization in this world."