As consciousness returned, so did an overwhelming sense of unease. It wasn’t immediate, more like the slow creep of realization. Maybe it was the crispness of the air, the faint breeze brushing against my skin, or the fact that I was waking up in the middle of a forest. Did I drink last night? I tried to piece it together. I remembered getting home from work... and then, nothing.

  Maybe it’s a dream. But who actually questions their reality in a dream? That thought alone made me uneasy.

  The ground beneath me was soft, the grass cool against my bare feet. Great. I was in a forest with no shoes. But as I took a step, I realized I could feel the moisture in the grass beneath my feet. The air, it was… I couldn’t think of a better way to describe it other than really fresh. The kind of fresh people always talked about when they mentioned going to the mountains. I used to think they were exaggerating or maybe I just didn’t get it because I’d never lived in a polluted city. But here it was undeniable. The air felt alive, clean in a way that made every breath feel easier somehow.

  I started walking, unsure of where I was heading, and immediately stepped on something hard, an acorn-like fruit scattered across the forest floor. Pain shot through my foot. Definitely not a dream.

  An afterlife, maybe? But I’d never been much of a believer. And seriously, who wakes up in heaven wearing nothing but jeans, a black t-shirt, and—barefoot, of all things? Sure, the place looked pristine enough, but I wouldn’t have called it heaven. For one, heaven would definitely have shoes. Or at least the option to pick a pair.

  Drugs maybe? I couldn’t be sure—I’d never touched hard drugs, so if this was some kind of drug-induced trip, I suddenly understood how people got addicted. But the crisp air and the clarity of my thoughts made that seem as unlikely as the other alternatives.

  That left only one possibility, as absurd as it sounded… aliens. I’d seen enough movies to know abductions didn’t always end well, and the thought sent a chill down my spine.

  I kept moving, trying to shake off the growing dread pooling in my stomach. The forest was eerily quiet, too quiet. Wasn’t it supposed to be noisy in a forest? Birds chirping, leaves rustling, something? But there was nothing, just an unsettling silence. Then, a flicker of light in the corner of my vision, and suddenly, a bird-like creature came rushing at me. Out of pure luck more than anything, I managed to drop to the ground just in time to avoid its attack.

  I scrambled to my feet and rushed to a nearby tree, desperately scanning the area for the attacker. But there was nothing—no sign of it, as if it had vanished into thin air. I pressed my back against the tree, rotating around it, trying to stay a step ahead. Then, another flicker of light, and the bird was on me again.

  This time, the tree made it easier to dodge. I ducked just as the creature’s claws slashed into the bark. Maybe I was really on drugs, because I could’ve sworn I saw it vanish after hitting the tree. I reached out and touched the gashes left in the bark. They felt real, as real as the tree itself.

  If those claws could do that to a tree, they’d do the same to my skin. I wasn’t about to risk my life, not even if there was only a tiny chance this was real.

  A weapon—I needed a weapon. Scanning my surroundings, my eyes landed on a fallen branch. It didn’t take long to snap off the dried twigs, leaving me with something more solid. A stick… no, a club. That sounded far better for defense.

  I couldn’t spend the whole day hiding behind a tree. Gripping my makeshift club, I forced myself to move forward, hoping I was moving out of range of the bird’s nest or whatever it was trying to protect.

  As I walked, a sobering thought struck me—night would fall sooner or later, and without any tools, starting a fire would be nearly impossible. Instinctively, I patted my pockets, though I didn’t expect to find anything useful.

  Nothing.

  Except for a neatly folded piece of paper.

  Curiosity got the better of me. I stepped closer to a tree, leaning against it for protection more than support, and carefully unfolded the note.

  “Sorry for bringing you here. But look on the bright side—there is magic in this world. At least, that’s how they call it.”

  I wasn’t sure what shocked me more—the another world part or the magic part. Okay, on second thought, definitely the magic.

  “But if it makes you feel better, let’s call it a fifth fundamental force. Use it! And please, don’t die!”

  I stared at the words, my mind racing. Magic? A fifth fundamental force? This had to be some kind of joke. But the gashes in the tree and the vanishing bird-thing were real enough. If this was a prank, it was an elaborate one. And if it wasn’t… well, I had no choice but to take it seriously.

  I might not even be on Earth. With that realization, I finally started paying attention to my surroundings.

  The grass looked… well, like grass. I couldn’t spot anything too unusual. The plants seemed familiar enough, no bizarre alien growths or glowing leaves. As for the trees, they were trees. I wasn’t exactly a tree expert. I could maybe identify an oak by its leaves, so they weren’t much help.

  I tilted my head back and scanned the sky. Clear blue, the normal kind, with a full moon hanging there. I almost glanced away, but something about it made me pause. My eyes lingered.

  The color. That was it. It was just plain white. Featureless. Smooth.

  Again, I wasn’t a moon expert or anything, but I’d stared at it enough to know it had black patches, craters, something. This one looked wrong, like someone had drawn it in with a blank marker.

  It wasn’t much, but paired with the everything earlier, and the fact that someone or something could take you to another world, it was enough to confirm I was no longer on Earth. Or at least, not my Earth.

  This was bad. Not some far-off, “how am I getting home?” bad, but immediate bad—like, “what wild animals or other magical monsters might be lurking nearby?” kind of bad.

  A surge of panic began to bubble up, and I forced myself to take deep breaths. Inhale. Exhale. Panic wouldn’t keep me alive here. I needed to think. Think.

  Magic! The message said I magic. I had no idea what that actually meant here. Sure, fantasy stories gave me an idea but who knew if any of that applied?

  Taking another deep breath, I decided to just roll with it. After all, as the saying goes, ‘When in Rome...’

  Magic meant spells, right? At least, that’s what I hoped. The idea of a fifth fundamental force gave me absolutely nothing to work with.

  I glanced at a pile of leaves nearby and decided to give it a shot. “Fireball,” I said, half-expecting something dramatic to happen. Nothing. Well, obviously nothing happened—did I really expect a fireball to materialize out of thin air? Okay, maybe not out of thin air, but still. I raised my hand, pointing at the leaves, and said “Fireball” again. Surprise, surprise—still nothing. Maybe a manual would’ve been more useful than that cryptic note.

  After what felt like thirty minutes of trying everything from “Fireball” to obscure spells I remembered from video games, it became painfully clear that whatever magic was, it wasn’t about shouting random words and hoping for the best. Frustrated, I sat down on a nearby rock, running a hand through my hair. If magic wasn’t about speaking names or phrases, then what was it? And how was I supposed to figure it out before something in this forest decided I looked like a snack?

  The first hints of thirst reminded me that I no longer had the luxury of running water. Magic existing was incredible and all, but I still needed to eat and drink. So, for now, experiments would have to wait. After scanning the area for a path with a downward slope, I pressed on hoping to hit a stream.

  Unfortunately, all I found were those damn birds. And this time, he brought friends. There were now four or five, I couldn’t really be sure—because they appeared and disappeared after every attack. I weaved around the trees, but eventually one of the claws slashed my back. As I suspected, it hurt a lot. The pain made me lose focus, and I slid across a patch of mud, landing on my back.

  I saw two of them rotating above and launching themselves in my direction. I raised my hands instinctively to cover my face, knowing this would hurt more. If only this damn magic worked and protected me. As they attacked, I closed my eyes, waiting for the pain to flare up—but all I felt was like someone pushed on my arms. I opened my eyes and saw the birds trying to gnaw and peck at my hands, but my skin remained intact. It was like there was an invisible barrier between the birds and my skin.

  Waving my hands around, I even managed to hit one of the birds, and they disappeared like they did before. Was that magic? How did I activate it? Was it something subconscious you had to bring forth?

  Maybe the fear of the attack, or as they say, necessity is the mother of all invention. Thought I hoped I could discover spells without being in mortal danger.

  The birds were still around but attacked with decreasing frequency, as if they understood that something new was needed.

  A stroke of luck finally came my way in the form of a small stream trickling before me. Lacking any containers to hold water for boiling, I decided to take my chances with it. It appeared clean enough, but more immediate concerns pressed on me, like the fading light and the creeping cold. My clothes weren’t going to offer much warmth, so I could only hope the nights here wouldn’t be too long or too cold.

  I tried to conjure up some kind of offensive spell to hit them back, but nothing worked. A fireball, even if I could manage one, would’ve been too slow to hit a moving target. What I needed was something fast—like lightning. But no matter how much I focused or how desperate I felt, nothing happened. I was starting to get really hungry now, and I thought maybe necessity would kick-start the magic. Turns out, necessity isn’t the mother of magic after all. At least, not in this world.

  Not that it mattered much anymore. It was getting dark, and the fading light made it harder and harder to see the birds. Dodging their attacks was becoming impossible, not that I bothered much—the Mana Shield, as I’d taken to calling it, was still holding up. But I couldn’t rely on it forever. I needed to build a shelter, not for defense but for warmth. The temperature was dropping fast, and the cold was starting to bite.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  That thought was quickly put on hold when another attack slammed into the shield. At first, I wasn’t too concerned, but then more and more attacks came, each one hitting with increasing frequency. I could barely see the birds now, but they must’ve called in reinforcements. Panic began to rise in my chest. How long could the shield last? If it failed, I was dead. By now, there had to be a whole flock out there, their attacks coming in an almost continuous barrage.

  Desperation washed over me. The spell had to work, or I was done for. I waved my hands frantically, trying anything and everything, but nothing happened. Instead, I felt the shield shift—a strange, new sensation I couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t a good sign, not with the relentless pounding it was taking.

  This was it. I could feel the shield collapsing. I had seconds left. If those birds could vanish and reappear, then a lightning bolt shouldn’t be impossible. It was just a stream of electrons, right?

  Maybe the closeness of death triggered something, because suddenly, a single lightning bolt erupted from my hand, shooting into the sky. It struck a few of the birds mid-air, and they plummeted to the ground. The rest scattered, leaving me finally, blessedly alone.

  I stood there, breathing heavily. I stared at my hand, half expecting it to burn or sizzle. But no, it felt fine, better than fine. I glanced down at the fallen birds, then at my hand, wondering what the hell had just happened—and if I could do it again.

  Spotting a fallen tree a few meters ahead, I said, “Lightning Bolt...” waiting for any sign of the spell. A few seconds went by, and still, nothing happened.

  Changing my approach, I raised my right hand and again and just thought about the Lightning Bolt.

  To my utter amazement, an actual electrical arc rushed toward the target, connecting with it in a bright flash.

  I tried again, more intentionally this time. Another spark. A bigger one. I couldn’t stop the grin that spread across my face. Excitement surged through me. I did it again and again, watching the charred tree trunk split and smolder. Was this real? Could I actually cast spells?

  Part of me still clung to the idea that this was some kind of dream or drug-induced hallucination, and I was just playing along. But seeing the spell actually work snapped me into the realization that I might not be in Kansas anymore.

  After the increasing cold forced me to gathering a few strange purple leaves that seemed the thickest, I completed my makeshift bed, celebrating it with another drink of water. I thought about making a fire using my new spell, but decided against it. Who knew what creatures lurked in a world where magic was real? I preferred the cold.

  Sleep, of course, eluded me. I wasn’t surprised, the slight chill, the uncomfortable bed of leaves, and the eerie moonlight casting odd shapes everywhere made it hard to relax enough for sleep to take hold. Not to mention the whole "magic is real" thing. Still, I’d always been an optimist. I focused on the positives: sure, I was far from home, but magic had to make up for some of that. I wasn’t freezing to death, there were no creepy animal noises, and if fantasy stories were to be believed, I’d meet someone soon enough.

  Since sleep wasn’t coming anytime soon, I decided to experiment. I thought about Mana Shield, hoping for some sign or feeling to tell me if it was off or on.

  Nothing happened. No flashy lights, no magical glow, not even a breeze to suggest something had shifted. Assuming it might require mana or some other random resource. I tried to sense any change in myself, but every attempt to gauge this “mana” resource turned up empty. No inner reserve of energy I could tap into, no helpful note popping up to confirm whether the spell was active or not.

  Was this supposed to be instinctual? Did I have to feel my way through it, like learning a skill in the real world? Frustration began to creep in. I couldn’t help but wonder if the spell was even working at all. Or maybe I hadn’t activated it properly?

  There was a simple way to test it, I suppose, so I picked up a few leaves and tossed them above my hand. To my surprise, they stopped just short of touching my skin, hovering in midair or more likely resting on the barrier the shield created. After tossing a few more leaves, I realized it was going to be a hassle remembering if this spell was active.

  ─── ????? ───

  A sound jolted me awake from the tree my back had been resting against. Since I barely heard it, the direction of the noise eluded me. Tensing, I reached for the stick. Yes, I knew I now had an offensive spell, but after 27 years on a planet without magic, the stick offered me a sense of psychological comfort.

  When the sound repeated, the direction became clear. The part of me that watched too many spoof horror movies screamed to go the other way, but I was beginning to understand the protagonists. Curiosity is a powerful thing, and I was all alone in a forest with no idea if there was an exit somewhere. Armed with my trusted stick and magic, I slowly made my way toward the sound.

  Upon arriving at the source, I discovered three... wolf-sized armadillos surrounding a woman. The two dead creatures nearby suggested she hadn’t been idle in her fight. However, her limp while retreating made it clear that she had faced some setbacks. After a brief moment of hesitation, I raised my hand, focusing on the idea of casting a lightning bolt. This time, it came easier—almost instinctively. A crackling bolt of energy shot from my fingertips, striking one of the distracted creatures with pinpoint accuracy. It let out a sharp, startled cry before collapsing to the ground. I stood there, my hand still tingling, staring at the fallen creature.

  The other two looked at me and, as if sensing the tide was turning, made a quick retreat, finally giving me a chance to take a better look at the woman.

  She was tall and athletic, with short, dark brown or black hair, hard to tell in the low light, almost touching her shoulders. She wore a backpack and clothes that seemed to have seen better days. Near her, a short sword like a gladius was dropped along with its scabbard. Surprisingly, there were no pointy ears.

  Now the moment of truth. First impressions tend to be important. To say I was nervous would have been an understatement. Laying my stick on the ground, I raised my hands to shoulder height, palms open, and despite feeling a bit awkward, I couldn’t resist saying, “I come in peace.”

  I had expected there to be a language barrier, yet her quick response stunned me: “Well, you helped with that,” she said, pointing at the smoking corpse, “so I might be inclined to believe you.”

  “You understand me?” I managed to respond after a lengthy pause on my part.

  She grimaced as she checked her leg. “Why wouldn’t I?” she said, like it would be the most obvious thing in the world.

  "Wait...don’t tell me this is your first day here?” she continued, and the question seemed more rhetorical than anything.

  But I replied anyway, “In this forest, yes.” Surely, she didn’t mean what I thought she did.

  “I meant in this world,” she cleared it up.

  Regaining my composure, I replied, “Well then, I’m guessing you won’t find it strange that I woke up on this planet just yesterday.” My tone was a mix of disbelief and humor.

  “So just one day? And you’re already casting spells? Seems like you’ve adapted quite well,” she said, clearly surprised. “You wouldn’t happen to have a healing spell, would you? My leg is killing me.”

  However, I could tell she didn’t hold out much hope for that. “No, sorry.”

  “At least you got one good spell,” she said while taking something from her backpack and spreading it on her wound, an ointment of some kind.

  “So…” she said, glancing at me for a moment. “I imagine you have loads of questions, considering it’s your first day and all. Since you just helped me, the least I can do is answer them.” The last part came out in a high-pitched voice as she bandaged her wound, and it was clear that it hurt.

  I did have questions, so I launched into them almost immediately. “What’s the name of the planet? Can you get back home somehow? And…sorry…What’s your name?” She held out a hand in a universal stop sign as I was starting another question.

  “Easy there. Maybe let me get some answers,” she said.

  “First, the planet? We call it Earth,” she grimaced again while bandaging. “Getting back? Not that I know of. Well, unless you impress some god and you convince him to send you back.”

  “Gods are real here?” I couldn’t keep myself from interrupting her.

  “Obviously gods are real,” she said, a little upset “And my name is Alira.”

  “Guess Earth is a logical name to call it,” I laughed, but it only lasted a moment as a touch of sadness washed over me. “Well, if I have to get stuck here, at least there’s magic.”

  She raised an eyebrow. "You sound surprised!"

  “Well, yeah, there is no magic where I’m from.”

  "No magic?" Her disbelief was clear. "I've never heard of a world with no magic. Sure, each world has its own twist on it, but none at all? Damn. Your world must be something else. Wait, don't tell me you don't have gods either."

  “Not really. That’s actually why I was asking. I said, though there was a trace of humor in my voice.

  She shook her head. “Well, you’d better start believing fast. Faith is important if you want to be powerful. You can’t fake it—trust me, I’ve tried.” There was a bitterness in her tone that I couldn’t miss.

  I actually started to laugh, though it came out more like a bitter chuckle. “Then I’m doomed, because I was never a believer.”

  She smiled subtly, a faint curve of her lips that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “With no gods, I can understand it somewhat.”

  Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if she was mocking me or offering a sliver of sympathy. Either way, it didn’t change the fact that I was stuck in a world where the rules were written in a language I didn’t speak.

  Starting to feel self-conscious, I asked, “Is it really that bad?”

  She tilted her head, considering. “Well, normally I’d say yes, because all the classes require at least some faith—with the exception of Mages, which I’m assuming you are?”

  “There are classes?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

  “Yes,” she replied, nodding. “Each person channels magic in different ways. We call them skills. Over time, people have tried to classify them into groups. For example, you cast an offensive spell, so most would call you a Mage.”

  “And why am I so privileged not to need any faith?” I pressed, raising an eyebrow.

  She nodded, as if expecting the question. “All classes, how should I put this, scale with two things. In my case, agility which I can train, and faith which requires actual devotion. It’s much harder to scale because you have to practice meditation and all that asceticism bullshit.” She did seem really touchy about that subject but carried on, “Mages, on the other hand, rely more on knowledge and willpower. Less faith, more… figuring out how to make things explode.”

  I couldn’t help but smirk at that. “So, I’m the lucky one?”

  “Lucky?” She gave me a wry smile. “Depends on how you look at it. Mages might not need faith, but you can’t just train or kiss some god’s ass to get stronger. Instead, you have to study all day long, hoping to stumble on some breakthrough. And good luck finding help—most mages hoard their knowledge like dragons guarding treasure. So, yeah, good luck with that.”

  “There are dragons here?” This was just too much. My mind was already spinning from everything else, and now dragons?

  She laughed, a light, almost musical sound. “Allegedly. There are plenty of stories about them, but few people have actually seen one.”

  She must have finished bandaging her leg, because she stood up, grabbed her sword, and slid it smoothly into its scabbard. The movement was practiced, almost effortless, despite the injury. She adjusted the strap across her shoulder, “It was an interesting conversation, but that ointment was not cheap, I’ll tell you that. So I have to go find some materials to at least come out even.”

  “Can I come?” pointing at my lack of shoes, “Some money sounds very good, or do they give stuff away free for good looks in this world?”

  She almost had to sit from the laughter, but regained her composure. “You should stick to hard coin, though since you helped me and all that, I’ll buy you a nice pair of shoes and call us even.”

  “That seems more than fair to me,” I replied.

  “Follow me...” she paused, looking at me, then continued with a grin, “What should I call you? Armadillo slayer?”

  Facepalming, I responded, “I’m so sorry. I forgot to introduce myself. I was just so caught up in the questions. My name is Tiberius.”

  “Come then, Tiberius, slayer of exactly one Armadillo,” she said with a smile.

  I couldn’t help but notice she had a very nice smile.

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