I awoke before the sun, the kind of darkness that isn't so much night as it is the last stubborn shade before morning finally wins. My tiny room looked even smaller by lamplight. I didn't waste time with nostalgia or regret. I'd spent enough of two lives in this dump; the only thing I'd miss was the door I'd broken.
I dressed quietly, tucking my hair under the hooded cloak stolen from my father's wardrobe. My travel bundle felt pitifully light, but the stolen gold was reassuringly heavy, pressing against my ribs like a promise. I gave the room one last look the battered desk, the cracked mirror, the single lopsided chair then slipped out, shutting the door with a gentle finality.
Down the hall, I paused. My family's snores echoed like the chorus of a dying walrus. Good. I'd rather leave as a shadow than endure one more shriek about "ruined doors" or "disgraceful daughters." I crept out the back, boots crunching on dew-soaked grass, and made for the village edge.
Not a hint of sadness. Just relief pure and honest, like the air after a storm.
The world was still asleep as I hurried down the muddy road, cloak wrapped tight, hood low. I kept to the shadows, ears pricked for the clank of armor or the shout of an overeager knight. Every crow caw, every rustle in the underbrush made my heart skip. If those armored idiots spotted me now, I'd have to run again.
But luck (or the system) was on my side. The only creatures awake were a few ambitious chickens and one suspicious goat, who eyed me as if I might steal its breakfast.
I kept going, never looking back.
By the time the first rays of sun crested the distant hills, I'd left the village well behind. The road wound through rolling fields and untamed forest, dew glinting on wildflowers and spider webs. The world seemed to expand with every step I took, as if the air itself was giving me permission to dream bigger.
There was just one tiny, inconvenient detail: I had no idea where I was going.
Not in the "I'm lost" way, but in the "I've never left my miserable village and the world map in my head is literally blank" way.
I stopped at a fork in the path, chewing my lip.
"System," I muttered, "how exactly does one get to the capital when one's entire travel experience consists of running from bears and hunting rabbits?"
[Glad you asked, Host. Allow me to introduce you to something revolutionary: a map.]
A shimmering blue window appeared in the air before me, expanding with a dramatic whoosh that nearly made me drop my bundle.
It showed not just the immediate area, but the whole known world a sprawling continent ringed by wild seas, dotted with countless towns, forests, and mountains. The land was carved into regions, each one colored and labeled with names I could barely pronounce.
[Let's start with the basics:]
[1. The Human Realms:
The Heartland: Rolling fields, bustling towns, the human capital "Aurelia."
The Northern Marches: Cold, harsh, filled with wolf monsters and people who wrestle bears for fun.]
2. The Demon Dominions:
The Ashen Wastes: Volcanic badlands, ruled by demon lords who think dueling is a friendly greeting.
The Obsidian Spires: Black stone cities and night markets. Not recommended for beginners.]
3. The Celestial Skies:
Floating islands and cloud cities, ruled by angels with shiny hair and massive egos. Tourists not welcome. Travel insurance mandatory.]
4. The Elven Wilds:
Ancient forests, impossible to navigate unless you're an elf or very, very lucky. Home to magical beasts, immortal drama, and wine that makes you see your past lives.]
5. The Dwarven Underlands:
Endless tunnels, glittering cities beneath mountains, run by dwarves who'd sell you a magic pickaxe and then bet against you in a cave-in.]
6. The Spirit Valleys:
Haunted woods and rivers, teeming with spirits, dryads, will-o'-the-wisps, and more. Beautiful, but possibly cursed.]
7. The Mermaid Archipelago:
Countless islands, some full of sun and song, others full of sea monsters that eat boats for breakfast.]
8. The Bestiary Isles:
Not a single human, elf, or dwarf just monsters, from adorable slimes to things with way too many tentacles. Not recommended for holidays.]
9. The Ruins of the Old World:
Crumbling towers, labyrinths, and dungeons bursting with magic, traps, and more monsters. Also, "instant death" warnings on at least half the map.]
I blinked at the sheer size of it all. My entire existence had been a mud puddle at the edge of a forest. Now, the world sprawled before me dangerous, wild, and dizzyingly alive.
[For your immediate purposes, Host, follow the east road. It leads to the town of Millcross. From there, take the northbound trade route. The capital city of Aurelia is three weeks' travel, longer if you get lost, which let's be honest is a near certainty.]
"Great," I muttered, "so, just don't die for three weeks. That's the plan."
[Addendum: Do NOT trust strangers, even if they smile. Especially if they smile. This world is full of monsters both the obvious and the polite. Bandits, slavers, con artists, wandering cultists, and the ever-popular 'friendly' traveling merchant with magic beans.]
I started walking, boots squelching in the mud. "Noted. Trust no one, avoid magic beans, try not to die before I can waste all this gold on snacks and new boots."
[And Host remember: everywhere outside a walled city is monster territory. Dungeons appear at random. Beasts roam every road. Even the chickens here can be suspicious.]
I eyed the map, noting bright red X's marking known monster nests and dungeons. One of them wasn't far from my current route a ruined tower surrounded by ominous little skull icons.
[Yes, that's the "Whispering Tower." Recommend detour unless you fancy being eaten by a shadow beast. And no, shadow beast meat is NOT nutritious.]
I grinned despite myself. "A challenge for another day, then."
[Be smart. Be careful. And, if all else fails, run fast and throw fire.]
I started walking east, the morning sky blazing gold. With every step, I felt the world grow bigger and myself with it.
No fear. No regrets. No looking back.
Just Arielle, a battered cloak, a purse full of stolen dreams, and a system who was finally more help than headache.
"Let's see what this world's really made of," I whispered.
And I walked on, into the wild, wonderful, dangerous unknown.