“Ahhh!” Glenn screamed as he fell blindly into the darkness, certain that he’d end up as a meat crêpe. Suddenly, he hit the ground and sprung back up.

  “…Ah?”

  He bounced up and down a few times before finally coming to a stop. A large cloud of dust rose, forcing him to cough out his lungs.

  “Cough, what? Cough, cough…” Glenn chased away the particles by waving his hand. He was lying on a tightly stretched piece of fabric, which had absorbed the momentum.

  If it wasn’t for this cloth, he’d probably be dead. Or paraplegic. Which was more or less the same in his situation.

  After the powder settled, he hesitantly pushed himself up, only to slip and fall back on the musky textile. After struggling for a few more minutes, Glenn rolled to the edge of the trap. He disgracefully tumbled on the dirt, bruising his knees. Nonetheless, the small pain was a worthy sacrifice if it meant salvation.

  “Cough. This dust might be deadlier than those monsters, I swear!” Glenn spat angrily, taking a moment to catch his breath.

  A mechanical sound churned above. The opening he fell through started to close, and with it, the moonlight dimmed. Glenn’s eyes widened, and he hurriedly looked around for a solution—a light source, anything. He quickly found an unlit torch nearby and frowned as he realized cultists had likely left it there.

  The ceiling would soon close entirely, and the darkness would swallow him. He wasn’t particularly scared of the dark, but he’d sure feel more comfortable with something to guide his way.

  “The flint!” Glenn suddenly remembered as he rummaged through his meager belongings. He unsheathed his sword, striking it against the flint to produce sparks.

  Once the ceiling sealed shut, there was nothing left to illuminate the room. But Glenn didn’t despair. He continued to strike blindly, aiming at the torch with questionable precision.

  Finally, a spark landed on the torch’s oily basin and the fire started, startling Glenn. He jumped back like a caveman.

  “Just in fucking time…” Glenn cursed.

  “Good call keeping this flint, but a lighter would’ve been way less stress,” he muttered as he looked around the room.

  It was a large chamber with engraved walls, where torch-holders hung from towering pillars. A tent stood at the center.

  So that’s the dusty piece of fabric that saved me. Not at all out of place in this ancient, immemorial structure.

  If there was a campsite, that meant there was someone around, right? Glenn raised his torch, failing to find any figures lurking in the shadows.

  “…Hello?” Only his echoing voice replied to him.

  Glenn gulped. “Is anyone here?”

  Still nothing. He shook his head and sighed.

  “I might as well treat this as good news. Free shelter for me, ain’t that right?” He chuckled.

  He quickly checked the chamber, finding only a single exit: a dark and very deep hallway that he had no desire to explore.

  Glenn carefully approached the tent. He lifted the flap, peering inside for any hidden individuals or… corpses.

  Better safe than sorry.

  The tent’s interior welcomed the warm hue of the flames, revealing a few objects of interest. The first was a camp bed. That sight put a wide smile on Glenn’s face.

  “Excellent. No sleeping on the ground.” He sighed with relief.

  In the center, there was a small, metal trash can filled with ashes. Glenn placed the torch in the bin before turning to the last object that truly interested him. There was a desk and a chair alongside a notebook, but most importantly, there was a chest.

  And a chest meant loot!

  Without a hint of hesitation, Glenn kneeled in front of it, grinning with excitement. What was he going to find? Rare, magical weapons? A large pile of glittering gold?

  Glenn opened the chest and frowned. No riches, nor ornate blades. Just clothing.

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  I’m disappointed, but… He looked at the rags he wore and grimaced. He could certainly use something clean. Pulling the clothes out one by one, he held them to the light.

  “They look pretty nice…” He whistled, finding several copies of black cotton pants alongside white, airy shirts. A black trench coat that reached his knees completed the outfit.

  Anything was better than Glenn’s tattered garments. He examined the clothes further and chuckled when he realized they were the same sizes as him.

  Glenn noted the absence of underwear but decided it was a minor concern. He quickly took off his attire, wincing at the numerous scratches and bruises on his body. Shaking his head dejectedly, he threw his old clothes into the bin, letting them burn like the trash they were.

  “Bye, bye, rags…” Glenn cackled.

  This wasn’t efficient, but getting rid of a reminder of that battlefield was a good way to work out his frustration, fear, and everything he felt since he arrived in this world.

  The only thing he kept was his belt, sword, and scabbard, for obvious reasons. Oh, and the snacks and lifesaving flint, of course.

  He didn’t waste another second and quickly changed, groaning in satisfaction as he caressed the soft fabric.

  “I love it already,” Glenn said as he checked himself out.

  Sadly for him, there wasn’t a bathtub anywhere in the tent, which wasn’t surprising. He patted himself a few times before sighing. This style of clothing didn’t seem common, almost a little luxurious as he guessed from the quality of the weave. Was this tent’s owner a noble or something? A rich explorer?

  He then turned his attention back to the desk. An open book lay on the stern wood, as well as a pen and a bottle of ink. A half-consumed candle spilled its wax across the surface.

  Glenn lit the candle, grabbed the notebook, and put his feet on the desk. He opened the book and coughed slightly as dust fell from it.

  He used the candle to shower the dusty pages in light. There, waiting for him, was an entirely new alphabet made of convoluted characters. After struggling to understand it, Glenn decrypted it, little by little.

  “How- …ard, Jeff- …erson?” Glenn read out loud. That must have been the name of the author.

  “The Adven- …tures of the See- Seeker!” Glenn rubbed his eyes, trying to figure out his translation ability. He kept concentrating on the very long title.

  “Seeker of New and Old… Jefferson Howard. Huh, it’s getting easier,” Glenn remarked.

  He moistened his lips and turned the next page, wincing at the cryptic document. His head ached painfully, and he only wanted one thing: sleep. Glenn yawned and put the book back on the desk. That would have to wait until tomorrow morning. He snuffed out the candle’s flames and plopped on the camp bed.

  “Hah…” Glenn sighed, already thinking about what he was going to do once he had woken up. He’d have to decrypt the notebook. There might be some important information in there, and alongside that, he wanted to test the limits of his new power.

  Glenn closed his eyes and fell peacefully asleep, finally getting a well-deserved rest.

  ***

  “Hey, hey, come on. Come on, we’re going to miss it!”

  A small, pale hand tugged Glenn away as he followed reluctantly. As the two of them approached a vast crowd, Glenn took the lead. He pulled his little sister, Lina, close to him, so the creeps couldn’t try something weird.

  The music was beating loudly, surrounding them from all sides as many people danced to the rhythm. Even Lina bobbed her head with each beat.

  “Enjoying yourself?” he shouted over the bass.

  Lina nodded with a soft smile, the most Glenn had managed to get from her since…

  It felt good to see her happy and not with those dull, lifeless eyes she usually bore. Glenn couldn’t blame her, though. He also felt a little guilty each time he enjoyed himself.

  Still, it was good news that the little one got those events out of her head. As long as she was happy, he was happy.

  A drunken man suddenly bumped into Glenn, spilling two full cups of beer all over his clothes. Glenn bounced back in surprise.

  “Shit, for real? That was my best shirt, asshole!” Glenn cursed, grabbing the barfly’s collar.

  The man gazed at him with hazy, rolled-back eyes. Glenn winced and let him go; the drunkard crashed on the ground like a squid. His complaints were useless if the guy was already asleep. He wiped his hands on a random passerby’s jacket and looked at them in wonder.

  Hands?

  Where was Lina? Glenn’s heart stopped. His vision blurring as fear took over. He shoved through the crowd, looking for that cute, tiny head of pink hair.

  “Lina? Lina!” Glenn yelled desperately, but she was nowhere in sight.

  He hopped on a table, disregarding the cups. He’d apologize later; his sister was more important than anything. Ignoring the protest of the partygoers, he surveyed the scene nervously.

  “Damn it. Where the hell is that pink-headed idiot?” Glenn hissed, his worry growing with each passing second.

  He was about to yell his sister’s name once more, only to be interrupted by a chilling cry from within the crowd.

  “He’s got a syringe!”

  The partygoers reacted instantly, some with cries of panic and others with hot-blooded anger. It had become a trend for scum to drug people at festivals. Most folks were careful not to get their drinks spiked, so creeps had to resort to other methods.

  “I see him! Fuck him up!”

  Glenn jumped off the table, his teeth clenched. “Where… Where…”

  “There’s the victim! We need a doctor!” someone shouted.

  Glenn felt his blood freeze in his veins.

  It couldn’t be, right?

  He dashed through the mob, almost collapsing when he saw the pink-headed girl lying on the floor, surrounded by a worried public.

  “Shit! Lina!” He roared as he pushed the poor bystanders out of the way. His heart beat loudly in his ears as he helplessly watched his sister’s droopy eyes close.

  “No. No! Stay with me! Hey, can you hear me? Shit. Shit!” Glenn panicked as the light in Lina’s eye faded, her happy smile from the festivities frozen in time.