In the world of Orion, far from the chaos of battle, life carried on in peaceful harmony. In Wealden, a city surrounded by high stone walls, the citizens went about their daily routines under the blazing midday sun.
The market district of Wealden was a sea of people. The shouts of merchants peddling fresh vegetables and woven fabrics echoed through the air, competing with the rhythmic footsteps of patrolling iron-booted guards.
On a street corner, little kids ran around chasing stray dogs. Meanwhile, at a fruit stall, two middle-aged women were busy sorting apples while exchanging enthusiastic whispers.
"Hey, did you hear the news about Elara, my chatty neighbor's daughter?" asked the plump woman, weighing an apple in her hand.
Her friend, a skinny woman in a knitted scarf, leaned in closer. "Oh? The Elara who sews on her porch all day? What about her?"
"This morning, a Gold-Rank adventurer came to propose to her! He brought a horse-drawn carriage full of silver coins and rare monster pelts as a dowry."
The plump woman continued, her eyes sparkling. "They say the adventurer fell in love at first sight when he saw Elara lost on the edge of the Eastern Forest last week. Imagine that, a Gold-Rank! That girl will never have to sew another stitch for the rest of her life."
"Goodness, what a lucky girl!"
While the hustle and bustle of the market continued below, the atmosphere in the watchtower near the city's main gate was a stark contrast. A gentle breeze blew lazily, bringing a wave of drowsiness to anyone on guard duty that afternoon.
Garrick, a veteran guard with greying hair and a scar across his cheek, glared sharply at his younger partner.
Elian, a guard who hadn't even been on duty for a year, was leaning against his spear with half-closed eyes, letting out a massive yawn.
"Straighten your back, boy," Garrick growled, lightly kicking Elian's iron boot. "You're guarding the city gate, not herding sheep."
"Why have you been yawning since sunrise? We are paid to stay vigilant," the veteran continued.
Elian wiped his watery eyes and forced a grin. "Sorry, Uncle Garrick. The weather is just too warm."
"Besides... I stayed up late last night at the 'Red Rose' brothel," the young man chuckled. "Lily, my favorite girl, was very aggressive last night. My back feels like it's going to break."
Garrick snorted in disgust. He gripped the hilt of his sword, ready to lecture the useless youth in front of him. "You worthless brat. You waste your hard-earned salary just to satisfy your lust at—"
Garrick's words were cut short. Elian suddenly flinched.
The drowsiness vanished from the young man's face instantly, replaced by a pale, shocked expression. He raised a trembling hand, pointing at the vast blue sky behind Garrick's back.
"Uncle... up there. F-falling stars!" Elian screamed.
Garrick frowned in annoyance. "Are you still drunk? There's no such thing as falling stars in broad day—"
As the veteran guard turned around, the words caught in his throat.
The cloudless afternoon sky was now torn apart by hundreds of bright lights. Streaks of colorful fire plummeted from the heavens, dragging blinding tails of light behind them.
The earth was being showered by magical meteors, falling in eerie silence.
Garrick was mesmerized for a few seconds, glued to the unnatural beauty of the cosmic phenomenon. But his warrior instincts quickly took over.
Realizing that those objects were hurtling violently toward the earth, Garrick turned and sprinted with all his might toward the warning bell in the center of the tower.
CLANG!
CLANG!
CLANG!
"FALLING STARS! TAKE COVER! EVERYONE, TAKE COVER!" Garrick's scream echoed through the market.
Panic exploded instantly. The once peaceful crowd turned into absolute chaos. Merchants abandoned their goods, mothers screamed as they hugged their children, and people scrambled to find shelter.
From the top of the tower, Garrick watched as one of the giant projectiles of light took a sharp dive toward the Eastern Forest, just a few miles from Wealden's city walls.
He gripped the tower's stone railing, shut his eyes tightly, and tensed his muscles, bracing for the shockwave of an explosion that would surely destroy everything.
One second. Three seconds. Ten seconds.
Silence fell. The devastating explosion he waited for never came. There was no earthquake, no deafening boom.
Hesitantly, Garrick opened his eyes. The sky was clear blue once again.
The lights had vanished without a trace, as if the apocalyptic phenomenon just moments ago was nothing but a collective optical illusion.
Garrick was still panting heavily. His heart was pounding. Down below, the frantic screams of the citizens could still be heard, proving that what just happened wasn't a daydream.
Elian, the young guard, slumped to the tower's stone floor, his legs trembling. His face was as pale as paper. "W-what was that, Uncle? The wrath of the gods?"
Before Garrick could answer, the wooden trapdoor on the tower floor was violently kicked open from below.
BANG!
A burly man in silver armor adorned with lion motifs stomped in. He was out of breath, sweat drenching his forehead and thick beard. It was Commander Kaelen, the leader of Wealden's city defense garrison.
Following closely behind him was an old man in a gray robe—Master Vane, the head of Wealden's council of mages.
"Garrick! Emergency report!" Kaelen barked, his voice overpowering the commotion. He gripped Garrick's shoulder tightly. "You have the highest vantage point. What just fell from the sky? Where did it land?"
Garrick hurriedly saluted, though his hands were still shaking slightly. "L-lights, Commander. Hundreds of projectiles of light."
"One of the largest ones dove straight toward the Eastern Forest, but... there was no explosion. The object just vanished before it touched the ground," the guard explained with a stutter.
"Vanished, you say?" Master Vane stepped forward. His wrinkled hands were trembling violently, not from age, but because of the object he was holding.
A mana detection crystal the size of a tennis ball rested in the master's palm. Normally, the crystal only emitted a faint glow, but now it was blindingly bright, radiating a deep blue color.
Worse still, tiny cracks were beginning to spread across the surface of the crystal, as if it couldn't withstand the energetic pressure in the air.
"Those objects didn't vanish, Guard," Master Vane said in a hoarse voice. He raised the crystal, pointing it straight toward the canopy of the Eastern Forest in the distance.
"They landed. And whatever fell in that forest... carries a mana fluctuation so dense that it's destroying our measuring tools from this distance."
Commander Kaelen rubbed his face roughly. "An ancient dragon? Or a disaster-class monster?"
"Only the gods know," Vane muttered, staring at the widening cracks on his crystal. "One thing is certain: the natural flow of mana in the Eastern Forest is being forcibly disrupted. If that entity has malicious intent, our city walls won't last a single night."
Kaelen immediately spun around, glaring at Elian, who was still sitting on the floor. "Boy! Sound the level-one alarm! Call all cavalry and combat mages to stand on full alert at the eastern gate."
"We are sending an elite scout squad to investigate the Eastern Forest immediately," the Commander ordered sternly.
Garrick gulped. The warm afternoon breeze now felt bone-chilling. The peace of their world had just been violently torn apart.
The scent of damp earth, fresh grass, and pine needles pierced his senses.
Alphonse regained consciousness. His eyes fluttered open slowly, squinting as the sunlight pierced through the gaps in the dense canopy above him. The chirping of birds echoed around him, accompanied by a cool breeze that brushed against his face.
This was not his gaming pod.
He sat up, looking around with a furrowed brow. Towering trees, wild bushes, and moss clinging to wet rocks filled his vision.
"Where is this?" he muttered softly.
Floating quietly just to his right was Stella Obscura. The miniature nebula inside the black crystal spun slowly, emitting a familiar magical glow.
Alphonse touched the monocle on his face, then felt his wolf-fur collar. He was still fully wearing his in-game avatar's equipment.
Wasn't the system supposed to execute an automatic log-out and send his consciousness back to his real body on Earth when the server update began? Why was he still here?
He looked straight ahead. Clear.
There was no User Interface (UI). No red HP bar, no blue Mana bar, no mini-map in the corner of his eye, and no digital clock.
His vision was completely natural, free from the augmented reality filters of Orion Online.
Alphonse tried swiping his hand in the air, performing the specific gesture to open the menu. "Menu."
No panel appeared.
"Log out. Status. Guild terminal," he listed off rapidly.
Nothing. There was absolutely zero response from the system.
Faced with this anomaly, Alphonse didn't panic. His analytical and rational brain immediately processed the available variables.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The oxygen entering his lungs felt pure. He could feel the humidity in the air against his skin and the warm sensation of the afternoon sun.
This realism went far beyond the neural simulation capabilities of even the most advanced gaming pods.
He opened his eyes again. An absurd speculation crossed his mind.
Did I get reincarnated? Into a real world that shares the same laws as the game?
Back then, Arcus used to ramble endlessly about fantasy novels and comics with this exact plot, using an annoyingly hopeful tone. Alphonse had always brushed it off as cheap, fictional nonsense.
But now, he was the main character of that exact scenario.
Alphonse stood up. The moment his feet touched the ground, he realized something.
His body felt as light as a feather.
The chronic fatigue, stiff posture, and physical weakness of his modern human body on Earth had evaporated. In its place, he felt a surge of pure energy pulsing fiercely through his veins. There was a new power living inside him—a vast, dense magical strength.
Curiosity took over. He walked toward a giant oak tree, about two meters in diameter.
Taking a short breath, Alphonse clenched his right fist and threw a straight punch at the tree trunk without using a single damage-boosting skill. It was purely an instinctual movement.
CRASH!
The sound of splintering wood echoed loudly. His fist pierced through the bark and the dense fibers inside as if the tree were made of wet paper.
The trunk shattered to pieces at the point of impact. The upper structure of the tree lost its balance, groaned loudly, and finally collapsed with a massive thud that shook the ground and sent a flock of birds flying away in a panic.
Alphonse pulled his hand back. He stared at his knuckles. There wasn't a single scratch, nor did he feel any pain. There were only wood splinters stuck to his gauntlet.
He stood in silence for a moment, amazed by his own raw physical strength.
"Damn... am I Superman now?"
However, that fleeting euphoria was quickly extinguished by his logic. Physical strength alone wasn't enough. He needed to know how much of his equipment had carried over to this world.
Alphonse raised his hand, attempting the downward swiping gesture usually used to summon his Inventory. In Orion Online, this gesture would open a panel containing hundreds of dimensional storage slots.
His hand merely sliced through empty air.
Alphonse's brow furrowed. He tried again, this time focusing his mind, visualizing the dimensional pocket space where he stored thousands of gold coins, rare materials, and backup weapons.
Nothing. There was no spatial distortion. No interface screen.
He looked down, inspecting his silk cloak, his monocle, and Stella Obscura floating loyally by his side.
His hand felt the leather belt at his waist, finding a small pouch that he had equipped as an accessory for quick access to emergency potions.
He opened the pouch; two glass vials filled with red liquid and a few mana crystals clinked inside.
A cold realization hit his mind.
"The inventory is gone too," Alphonse muttered quietly. "Only equipped items became real."
All the items stored in his inventory... were gone. Deleted along with the death of the game.
A harsh rustling sound from the bushes interrupted his thoughts.
Alphonse turned his head slowly. From behind the thick, dark green foliage, a pair of glowing red eyes stared at him with intense hunger.
A wolf the size of a pony stepped out. Its fur was a dirty gray and sharp as needles, while sticky saliva dripped from its open jaws.
Just by seeing its silhouette, Alphonse's memory immediately recognized the creature. A Dire Wolf.
In Orion Online, it was just a level 15 monster often used as a punching bag for newbie players to level up.
The giant wolf growled deeply, bearing fangs the size of daggers.
"Even a low-tier monster like a Dire Wolf looks intimidating when it becomes real," Alphonse commented, his flat tone contrasting sharply with the threat in front of him.
As if provoked by its prey's calmness, the Dire Wolf howled in anger and lunged forward.
Its massive body launched through the air at high speed. Its jaws were wide open, aiming straight for his neck.
Alphonse didn't dodge. He simply raised his left arm to protect his face.
The wolf's jaws clamped down with bone-crushing force right on Alphonse's left arm. But the razor-sharp fangs scraped harshly against the fabric of his legendary-tier cloak.
Instead of tearing into flesh, the monster's teeth slipped, completely blocked by the fabric. Alphonse didn't even feel pain; he only felt a pressure equivalent to a puppy's bite.
The Dire Wolf's eyes widened in confusion. Alphonse didn't let the opportunity go to waste.
With his right hand, he grabbed the thick scruff of the wolf's neck.
Exerting his newfound physical strength, Alphonse lifted the monster, which weighed hundreds of kilograms, into the air, and slammed it brutally onto the clay ground below.
BOOM!
The earth trembled. The sound of ribs and a spine snapping rang out, sharp and horrifying.
The Dire Wolf vomited black blood, howling in despair and agony as all of its internal organs were crushed by the gravitational force and the monstrous power that struck it.
Alphonse stood tall, letting the wolf convulse beneath his feet.
He looked down, inspecting the left sleeve of his cloak, which was still intact without a single thread out of place. However, his brow immediately furrowed in disgust when he saw the foul-smelling saliva sticking to the luxurious silk fabric.
With a cold expression, he lifted his boot, then stomped down on the dying wolf's neck with one powerful thrust.
Snap.
The monster's neck bone broke. Its body went limp instantly, completely dead.
Alphonse flicked the remaining dirt off his hands, looking down at the giant carcass with a condescending glare.
"I hope in your next life you become a pet dog," Alphonse said casually, "so your master can help you brush your teeth."