The warmth of the morning light gently stirred him from slumber.
Soft rays, not from one, but two directions, spilled through the gaps in his rough shelter—one bold and golden from the east, another fainter, silver-touched beam from the northwest. The two suns of Loria rose together, each painting the sky with its own color, their lights crossing like a blessing over the boy who slept under them.
Slowly, reluctantly, he opened his eyes.
The world was already awake—waves whispering along the shore, a salty breeze running playful fingers through the trees, the distant cries of unseen birds greeting the day.
He blinked at the brightness, stretched his thin limbs with a soft groan, and sat up, brushing off bits of leaves and sand that clung to him.
"Good morning, me," he murmured under his breath with a tired smile.
He splashed water from his flask onto his face, letting the icy touch wipe away the last shreds of sleep. He watched the droplets fall onto the dusty ground, feeling the refreshing cold seep into his skin and sharpen his mind. Stretching again with a satisfying pop of his shoulders, he slung his old backpack over one shoulder and turned his gaze toward the forest that loomed at his back.
The massive trees stood tall and silent, cloaked in deep green. In the shadows under their boughs, the world seemed older, heavier.
Today, he would search.
Today, he would try to find a monster, a beast—anything he could hunt, defeat, and sell for some coins. The villages and towns thrived on the materials harvested from creatures: hides for armor, bones for crafting, blood for potions and alchemy. Mana engineering, medicine, weapon-making—everything in Loria depended on these resources.
He took a deep breath and stepped into the cool shade of the forest.
Hours seemed to stretch and twist inside the endless green.
He moved carefully, trying to make as little noise as possible, scanning every bush and branch with alert eyes.
But two hours passed, and he found nothing.
Not a beast, not even a tiny monster.
The forest was strangely empty.
It wasn't a bad sign, though—in fact, it might even be a blessing.
He knew from his readings and the games he once loved that when forests close to towns were this quiet, it usually meant that adventurers actively patrolled the area. Dangerous monsters were pushed farther away. This place, this long stretch of ancient trees, had already been claimed by civilization.
He sighed, wiping sweat from his forehead, and took a few sips of water.
"The adventurers near this town are way too active," he muttered under his breath, half complaining, half laughing at himself.
His stomach grumbled softly, but he ignored it. Instead, he fixed his gaze toward the distant mountain he had seen before—the one wrapped in swirling storm clouds like a crown of black fire. That was his landmark, his compass.
If he kept walking toward it, he should reach the coast soon.
And maybe, just maybe, find a village.
The salty breeze grew stronger as he moved forward. The murmur of the sea grew louder, steadier, like a drumbeat calling him home.
Another half hour passed. His legs ached. His back was sore. His mind wandered lazily between dreams and memories.
And then—
He saw it.
Near the shore, a handful of boats floated on the waves.
Not wooden ships like the ones he had seen in his old world's stories—no, these were different. Their hulls were patched with plates of metal and runes carved in glowing patterns along the sides. At the rear of each boat, a small engine hissed and roared, powered by fire runes that spat steam into the salty air.
He stopped in awe, shielding his eyes against the sun with one hand.
"Magic engineering," he whispered, amazement filling his voice.
"This is the magic engineering I've heard about."
It was one thing to read about it. Another thing entirely to see it with his own eyes.
Loria was alive with wonders he could barely begin to grasp.
Fishermen, clad in simple leather and rune-woven tunics, tossed nets into the water. Flames flickered under their rune-engines, keeping their boats moving steadily. The harmony of magic and craftsmanship left him breathless for a moment. How many other secrets waited in this world, hidden just out of sight?
He smiled faintly, a whisper of excitement stirring in his tired chest.
Adventure. Discovery. Mystery.
This world was so much bigger, so much richer, than he had ever dared to imagine.
He continued walking along the sandy shore, his worn shoes kicking up fine clouds of dust with each step.
And then, farther down the coastline, he saw it:
A village.
Simple but lively.
Small houses, half-built from wood, half-reinforced with mud and stone shaped by alchemy. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys. Runes glowed faintly over doorways, warding off pests or monsters. Clothes fluttered on lines strung between poles.
Children ran barefoot across the sand, chasing a worn ball.
Laughter echoed faintly in the air.
He paused, stunned.
They were playing football.
Just like he used to.
Just like the evenings when he would sneak away from work, just for a few stolen minutes of freedom with his sister and cousins, kicking a ball around until they collapsed into the grass, laughing and breathless.
Those memories hit him like a punch to the chest.
He stood there for a long moment, watching the kids play, his heart squeezing painfully with bittersweet joy.
The salty wind brushed past him, pulling at his clothes.
He sighed softly and forced himself to move forward.
No one noticed him.
No one pointed, or stared, or called out.
It was as if he didn't exist—a shadow moving quietly along the edges of their busy lives.
A ghost passing through the living.
Maybe it was better that way.
He had no money, no permit, no identity in this world.
He was just a wandering boy with no name worth speaking here.
He tightened the straps on his backpack and turned away from the main path.
There was no reason to step into the village itself.
He couldn't stay.
Not yet.
For now, he would continue walking.
Following the coast.
Searching.
Learning.
Surviving.
The future was a wide, unexplored sea stretching before him.
And he, small and silent, was just a boy standing at the edge of it—wondering how far he could go before the waves swallowed him whole.
But even so, he smiled.
Because for the first time in a long time, he wasn't trapped.
He wasn't caged.
He was free.
And freedom, even when it was lonely and uncertain and terrifying, was beautiful.
The two suns climbed higher behind him, casting long shadows across the sand.
The world waited.
And he would meet it, one small step at a time.
........
Hello everyone,
I'm writing this with a heavy heart.
After giving it a lot of thought, I've decided to pause posting this story for now.
For the past week, not a single comment has appeared — no feedback, no words, no signs that anyone is out there following this journey.
It feels like shouting into an empty world.
I poured my heart, my late nights, and my hopes into every chapter, dreaming that someone would connect with this world, these characters, even a little.
But it seems... maybe this story isn't something people are waiting for. Maybe it's not the right time.
I want to believe that one day, someone will find this story and feel what I felt when writing it.
But for now, I need to step back.
I need to breathe.
It hurts too much to keep giving when it feels like no one notices at all.
Thank you to anyone who ever read even a single word.
Maybe one day, I'll return.
Until then, take care, and chase your dreams — even when it hurts.
...From the author who just wanted to tell a story