We’d finally left the dead tree forest behind, though the happenings from yesterday were still fresh in our mind. Ahead, a cracked, crumbling road snaked its way through dead fields, winding like a lazy river through the hills. Once, maybe, this had been a road to a thriving vineyard or some old country village. Now, it was barely more than a memory—weatherworn stone choked by creeping moss and weeds, flanked on both sides by farmland long since abandoned. What few crops remained were brittle and blackened, swallowed by a greenish carpet of moss that shimmered faintly in the light like it was trying to stay alive out of spite.
Sherry groaned and swatted the air in front of her although nothing was there. “Look at this garbage.” It had to be the interface again—the strange system all of us had started seeing after falling into this world.
Location: Somewhere, probably.
Another message popped up under it.
Monsters Nearby: A possibility
I sighed. “As helpful as ever.”
“What’s the point of this anyway?” Sherry squinted. “My level went from one to a bunch of question marks.”
Level: ??? (Just try your best!)
Behind us, Rumiel trudged along the road, humming a happy, disjointed tune. Her halo spun idly in her hands as she fiddled with it like a broken toy. She couldn’t fly anymore and walked like the rest of us, occasionally stumbling on rocks and muttering divine curses under her breath.
She paused and gave the halo a shake, then tapped it gently against her palm. “Hmm… might be time for an update.”
I slowed my pace and glanced back. “Update?”
Rumiel grinned. “Yeah. You’re running an alpha version of the interface. Knoriel created it out of boredom and has been updating it periodically ever since.”
“Your brother made this?” Sherry asked, aghast. “I’d like to speak to him. Maybe punch him in the face.”
Rumiel twirled the halo on one finger. “No need. I rummaged through his stuff and found the latest version.”
Before anyone could protest, she zipped forward, raised her halo like a frying pan, and whacked me on the top of the head.
A soft chime to accompany my pain rang out, and my interface flared with light.
System Update Complete!
Barrett – Level 1 | Class: Rookie
Equipment: Neglected Shortsword
HP: 100/100
Strength: 5 (+1)
Defense: 9
Magic: 1
Dexterity: 5
Intellect: 6
Speed: 6
Class Change Unlocks at LV 10!
“Oh hey,” I blinked. “That... actually worked?”
Meryl backed away. “She’s not hitting me with that thing.”
Too late. Rumiel spun toward her with a mischievous grin and an unholy amount of determination.
“Meryl, brace for impact—”
System Update Complete!
Meryl – Level 1 | Class: Rookie
Equipment: Neglected Shortsword
HP: 35/35
Strength: 9 (+1)
Defense: 5
Magic: 1
Dexterity: 7
Intellect: 3
Speed: 6
Class Change Unlocks at LV 10!
Sherry tried to run, but Rumiel was faster. She chased her down the road with the grace of someone who’d once flown and had not adjusted to walking yet, nearly tripping over her own feet. When she finally caught up, she leapt like a gremlin and came down swinging.
WHUMP!
“You’re gonna pay for that!” Sherry yelled, holding her head.
System Update Complete!
Sherry – Level 1 | Class: Rookie
Equipment: Neglected Shortsword
HP: 80/80
Strength: 7 (+1)
Defense: 7
Magic: 3
Dexterity: 6
Intellect: 7
Speed: 6
Class Change Unlocks at LV 10!
Rumiel stood triumphant, slightly out of breath, holding her flickering halo above her head like a trophy. “See? All fixed. I’m amazing. Also my halo might be... slightly concave now.”
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Sherry groaned. “We’re still level one? We fought two level twenty-eight wolves yesterday!”
Rumiel coughed awkwardly. “Ah. Yes. About that. You were earning... emotional XP.”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, technically, experience gain was disabled in the alpha interface because of ‘emotional development prioritization’ protocols. You’ve all grown so much on the inside!”
“You definitely made that last part up,” Sherry muttered, still rubbing her scalp.
“Don’t worry,” Rumiel said with a wink. “Next patch’ll be wireless. Probably.”
We were still chuckling when a sudden shout cut through the air, sharp and desperate—The laughter died down just in time for us to hear it again: a frantic voice echoing over the hills.
“HELP! HELP! I’M TOO YOUNG TO BE HAYBAIT!”
Our heads turned in unison.
A figure sprinted toward us down the winding road, flailing a pitchfork like it was the only thing keeping death at bay. He was young with a mop of sun-bleached hair, mud-streaked clothes, and a face stuck in permanent panic mode.
Behind him bounded three grotesque figures, stumbling with jerky movements. Scarecrows. At least, scarecrow-shaped things. Their faces were stitched burlap sacks, half-torn and flapping in the wind, with glowing button eyes that clicked when they turned. Their limbs were stuffed with straw but twisted unnaturally, and rusty scythes poked out where hands should’ve been.
“Are those... scarecrows?” Meryl blinked.
“With scythes for hands,” Sherry sighed. “Of course they have scythes for hands.”
The man tripped and rolled, scrambling upright again with wild eyes. “Little help? Please?!”
I drew my sword and positioned myself for combat. “On it!”
Combat initialized…
Barrett – Level 1 | Class: Rookie
Equipment: Neglected Shortsword
HP: 100
Strength: 5 (+1)
Defense: 9
Magic: 1
Dexterity: 5
Intellect: 6
Speed: 6
Enemy identified: Scarecrow – Level 2
Exp gain: 5
The scarecrows let out dry, rustling screeches like paper being torn in half. One lunged forward, flailing its scythe-arms in wide, clumsy arcs.
I sidestepped, barely. "Okay! These things are slower than the wolves!"
"Which means we might actually win this time!" Sherry shouted, drawing her sword.
The scarecrow swiped at her. She ducked low, slashing at its leg. Straw exploded from the wound in a satisfying puff.
5 Damage!
“Ow! My eye!” she yelped as something ricocheted off her face.
“Sorry!” I shouted. I’d tried to kick a rock at the scarecrow—missed—and somehow managed to bounce it off her head instead.
“BARRETT!”
“I said I was sorry!” I really was.
Meryl charged past us with his sword raised high in the air. “Get away from him, you freaky haystack!”
With an ungraceful yell, he brought the sword down on one of the scarecrows’ heads. It crumpled like a soda can, its body flailing before collapsing into a lifeless pile of fabric and straw.
10 Damage!
The farmer scrambled behind us, clutching his pitchfork. “Okay—okay! This is fine! I’m alive! That’s what matters!”
Another scarecrow lunged for us, but I met it mid-swing. Our weapons clashed—metal to rusted metal—and I pushed forward with all the strength my very unimpressive stats could muster.
5 Damage!
Sherry joined in from the side, slicing through the scarecrow’s middle and sending half of it flying.
5 Damage!
“Down to one!” she grinned.
The last scarecrow hissed and turned toward Rumiel—who was hiding behind a nearby tree with both hands over her face.
“Oh no,” she whimpered. “Tell me when it’s over.”
It took a step toward her.
She peeked through her fingers. “Still alive?”
“Yes!” Meryl shouted. “But not for long!”
Meryl rushed in again, but the scarecrow turned just in time. It slashed at her, grazing her arm.
“Gah—ow, okay, that stung!” she gritted her teeth.
I darted in, taking advantage of the distraction to jam my sword into the scarecrow’s side. Sherry was already there, cutting the other side. Meryl, undeterred, brought her staff down on its head a second time.
7 Damage!
The scarecrow spasmed—then exploded into harmless straw and cloth scraps.
Combat Victory!
3 Scarecrows defeated!
EXP gained: 15
New Total: 15/30
Rumiel peeked out from the tree, then stepped forward, clapping enthusiastically. “You guys were so brave! And Barrett didn’t even cry this time!”
“I wasn’t crying last time,” I asserted.
“You definitely were,” Rumiel replied sweetly.
The farmer stood, panting, still gripping his pitchfork like a lifeline. “I—thank you. I thought I was done for. Those things came outta nowhere.”
Meryl wiped her brow. “Yeah, well, welcome to the club. Weird crap keeps happening to us too.”
Sherry crossed her arms. “You got a name, pitchfork guy?”
He blinked. “Orren. Orren Ferrel. Uh… I owe you one.”
Rumiel offered a thumbs-up. “We accept beer, wine, vodka, gin, tequila—”
“Hey! Not so loud” Orren warned, his eyes darting wildly around as if the trees had ears. “The Chaliceguard is always listening!”
We all froze.
Sherryl blinked. “The what now?”
“How do you not know The Chaliceguard?” he looked perplexed, lowering his voice to a frantic whisper. “They’re the Council’s enforcers—they patrol the towns and sniff out any form of alcohol. You so much as think the word ‘beer’ too loud and one of ‘em’ll crawl out of your shadow ready to put you in custody!”
“They really take this seriously, huh?” Sherry said to herself.
“I’ve seen it happen! Well—my neighbor saw it happen. Poor guy. All he did was toast his wife with dandelion tea and they dragged him off for ‘intent to brew.’ We haven’t seen him since.”
Orren seemed bewildered, as if what he was saying was common knowledge known by everyone in the land. Well, it probably was. It seemed the Council’s grip had reached into every corner of society, from the way people greeted each other to what they dared cook in their kitchens, and yet here we were—three strangers and a wingless angel—wandering around like tourists who’d missed the entire last fifty years of history. It was a miracle we hadn’t been arrested just for existing.
“It’s like you guys missed the last fifty years and fell outta the sky or somethin’,” Orren said, squinting at us.
Rumiel snorted softly, and we all exchanged a glance.
“Something like that… and yeah, we’re a little behind on current events,” I said, hoping to keep things vague.
Orren shook his head and motioned down the path. “C’mon. My homestead’s in Alerensia—just past that ridge. It ain’t fancy, but I can offer food, a dry place to sleep, and a roof that only leaks when the rain really means it.”
“Sounds like luxury to me,” Sherry said.
We followed him, our boots crunching over gravel and the occasional tangle of vine. The farther we walked, the quieter the world became, like the land itself was holding its breath.
