The tension in the air melted away as quickly as it had risen. The panther, with a sudden burst of grace, strode forward, closing the distance between itself and Mason in a heartbeat. Mason held his breath, unsure of what to expect—yet not feeling threatened. Then, with surprising gentleness, the large feline nudged its head into his open palm, the smooth fur pressing against his skin.
Mason blinked in surprise, his instincts taking over as his hand moved to pet the massive cat. The panther's fur was sleek, soft—so much like his own orange tabby back home. A small smile tugged at his lips. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all. His family checked in on him every couple of days, so there was no need to worry about his cat. His parents or one of his brothers would make sure the little troublemaker was fed and cared for. That thought alone put him at ease.
His hand moved instinctively, running along the panther's neck and down its broad back. The panther purred—a deep, rumbling sound that reverberated through its chest—and Mason found himself laughing softly. "You're just a big kitty, aren't you?" he murmured, scratching behind the panther's ears. The animal responded by leaning into his touch, content and calm.
As his fingers traced along the panther's spine, Mason couldn't help but marvel at how smooth the fur was. There was something almost therapeutic about it, the sensation grounding him in this strange new reality. His earlier nervousness had vanished, replaced with a quiet calm. Somehow, he knew everything was going to be alright.
Out of the corner of his eye, something on a nearby rock caught his attention. His gaze shifted to the smooth surface, where a beautifully bound leather book sat, its dark cover gleaming in the sunlight. Beside it, an intricately designed leather bag rested, the kind made for durability and utility. It had a thick strap, built to rest comfortably over the shoulder and hug close to the body—perfect for travel and easily hidden under a jacket. The craftsmanship was impressive, and it looked as though it could withstand the wear and tear of many journeys.
Curiosity piqued, Mason glanced down at the grass where his head had rested earlier. He could still make out the impression of his body in the flattened blades, right next to the rock where the book and bag lay. How had he not noticed them before?
The panther nudged his arm with its head again, reminding him that he still had an eager companion to attend to. Mason chuckled, scratching the cat's neck once more. "Alright, alright," he said softly, his voice almost soothing as he continued to pet the large feline. He let his fingers trace along its tail, marveling at the way the fur shimmered in the sunlight. The panther responded by stretching luxuriously, clearly enjoying the attention.
Mason's heart, which had been racing earlier, had long since settled. This strange, massive cat didn't make him nervous anymore. In fact, the more time he spent with the panther, the more he felt at ease. It was as though some unspoken connection had formed between them, and he just knew, deep down, that everything was fine.
After a few more moments of petting, Mason sat back in the grass beside the rock, the soft ground cushioning him as he settled in. The panther watched him with intelligent eyes, its gaze following his movements. Mason reached for the book first, his fingers brushing over the smooth, cool leather as he picked it up. The cover was beautiful—dark brown, with intricate detailing along the edges. In the center of the cover was an odd symbol, something Mason had never seen before. It looked like a flame, but not quite. There was something abstract about it, something that made it feel both familiar and strange at the same time.
As Mason studied the cover, the panther, seemingly deciding that it hadn't gotten quite enough attention, began to nudge its way closer to him. With a slow, deliberate movement, it tried to settle into his lap—though it was far too large to fit. The panther ended up sprawled mostly across the ground, its head resting heavily on Mason's leg as it gazed up at him with those piercing yellow eyes.
Mason couldn't help but laugh softly. "You're not exactly lap-sized, you know," he said, his voice gentle as he scratched the cat's head. The panther's eyes closed in contentment, clearly unfazed by the fact that it was far too large to be lounging like this.
With a small chuckle, Mason placed the book on the panther's broad back and carefully opened it, his fingers brushing over the pages as he turned to the first. The leather cover creaked softly as the book fell open, revealing the first page. At the top, in simple, elegant lettering, was what Mason assumed was the title: Guild Book.
His brow furrowed slightly. Guild Book? The name felt oddly familiar, stirring a sense of déjà vu within him. His fingers traced over the words, the texture of the paper soft beneath his touch. It reminded him of something out of Guild Wars 2, but that didn't make sense. What was this doing here?
He turned the page again, revealing an index of sorts, with various sections listed, each with their corresponding page numbers. The layout was clean, almost too structured. It felt very much like something out of a video game menu.
Mason glanced down at the panther, who was still resting contentedly across his legs. The cat's tail flicked lazily back and forth, its eyes half-closed as it basked in the attention. "What do you think, huh?" Mason mused aloud, scratching behind the cat's ears again. "Doesn't this feel a little… off?"
The panther didn't respond, of course, but Mason felt a strange calm wash over him, as though the presence of the big feline somehow made the oddness of the situation less alarming. He took a deep breath and turned to the next page.
The title at the top of the page read Hero Panel, and below it, there were details that made Mason's mind spin. His pulse quickened as his eyes darted over the familiar terminology—the kind of language he'd seen countless times before, but only in the context of Guild Wars 2.
He paused, closing the book gently, his mind racing with questions. But as strange as it all was, there was no panic in him. The world around him—the creek, the forest, the open prairie beyond—remained peaceful, undisturbed.
Whatever this was, it felt oddly… right. Like this was where he was supposed to be, as strange as that sounded.
Mason leaned back into the grass, letting the cool breeze brush over his skin as the panther purred softly beside him. There was more to discover, he knew that much. And something told him that this book—this world—held answers. He just had to keep exploring.
Mason stared at the open pages of the book, feeling both curiosity and a sense of unease. The Hero Panel showed a moving image of him, mirroring his current appearance: no shirt, pajama pants, no shoes, and no socks. The figure shifted slightly, adjusting posture as if waiting for his next command. The layout was uncannily familiar, yet Mason reminded himself not to jump to conclusions. Just because this book looked like something out of Guild Wars 2 didn't mean it followed the same rules.
His eyes flicked over to the tabs on the left side of the page:
Equipment, the current tab, showed his present attire—or lack thereof.Wardrobe and Dyes were likely customization options, though he had no gear to change into at the moment.Gliders and Mounts—features from the game, but he had no reason to believe they would work here.Fishing, Skiffs, Novelties, Jade Bots, Miniatures, Finishers, and Mail Carriers—familiar terms, though their purpose in this strange world remained to be seen.Build, a more intriguing tab, promised information on skills and weapon proficiencies.
Mason's hand hovered over the Build tab, but he hesitated. What if this world didn't follow the same logic as the game? He couldn't afford to assume anything. If his life here was at stake, he needed to proceed carefully. The Build tab could wait until he knew more.
Instead, he flipped to the next page, arriving at the Journal. In Guild Wars 2, this section had been filled with quests and objectives, but here, the page was entirely blank. The emptiness stirred a strange feeling inside him, as if the book were waiting for him to write his own story. No entries, no guidance, just a void. It made him realize that, while some elements were familiar, this world might be less structured than he had anticipated.
"Figures," he muttered under his breath. Nothing would be as straightforward as it seemed.
The panther beside him stirred, pressing its large head into his hand for more attention. He obliged absentmindedly, scratching behind its ears as he moved on to the next section.
Crafting greeted him with a list of professions that mirrored the game—Weaponsmith, Armorsmith, Chef, Jeweler, and several others—but once again, the page was blank. It looked like the potential for crafting was there, but nothing had been unlocked yet. Or maybe he just hadn't started anything in this world. The thought left him with more questions than answers.
Achievements followed the same pattern: a clean slate, with no accomplishments recorded. And curiously, there were no Mastery Points listed. It was strange, but Mason filed the information away for now. He'd have to explore the mechanics of this world further before jumping to any conclusions.
His attention turned back to the Hero Panel, where the figure continued to move as he did, a mirror image of his real self. Mason watched it for a moment, half-expecting it to give him some kind of clue, but it simply adjusted its posture, arms now crossed.
Sighing, Mason flipped to the next page—and was greeted with another familiar sight: the Guild system. The layout was almost identical to what he had known from his years in Guild Wars 2. Categories for members, ranks, roles—but the Guild Hall button was conspicuously missing.
He frowned at that. In the game, the Guild Hall was a core part of building a community, a place for members to meet and plan. But here, in this book, it simply wasn't there. More troubling still, the list of members was entirely blank. No names, no familiar faces, nothing. It was like starting from scratch. This wasn't one of the guilds he had been a part of back in the game. This was something else.
Mason's mind raced. Was this world trying to give him a chance to create something new? Or was it something more cryptic, a reflection of the fact that he was alone in this strange place? He had no answers, only more questions.
His eyes trailed back to the book's pages. Everything seemed structured like the game he had loved, yet there was no telling if it worked the same way. He'd have to explore and test the limits of what was possible in this world. Until then, assuming that things worked like the game could be dangerous. The book, as familiar as it felt, wasn't enough to go on.
The panther nuzzled him again, its large body warm against his leg. Mason absentmindedly ran his fingers through its fur as he stared down at the empty guild roster. It was strange being in a world that seemed so vast, so open, and yet so empty. There was potential here—he could feel it—but there was also uncertainty.
He flipped back to the earlier pages, skimming the tabs he hadn't explored fully yet. There were layers to this book, layers that he would need to uncover carefully, one step at a time. The Hero Panel, the Journal, the Crafting, the Guild system—they were all pieces of a puzzle he wasn't sure he was ready to solve just yet.
Mason kept the book open in his lap, running his fingers over the leather-bound edges, thinking. He wasn't done with it yet—there was more to explore, more to understand—but for now, the answers wouldn't come easy. The book was a tool, and like any tool, it would require skill and patience to use properly.
The panther yawned lazily, shifting beside him as the wind rustled through the tall grass, bringing with it the scent of earth and water. The creek babbled gently in the background, a soothing soundtrack to this surreal moment.
Mason furrowed his brow as he flipped to the skills page in the book, expecting to see a list of abilities, yet finding nothing. The page was blank, save for the header indicating "Skills." He glanced over the familiar layout, but it didn't show any indication of what his class might be. Was he a warrior? Or maybe one of the magic classes? He knew that in Guild Wars 2, even warriors had access to some forms of magic, as did rangers, thieves, and other classes. Magic was woven into nearly every aspect of the game's professions. But here, nothing was listed. No skills, no proficiencies—nothing.
He turned his attention to the list of weapon proficiencies next, but they were all blanked out as well. That made sense. After all, he hadn't used any weapons in this world yet. There was no telling what kind of fighting—or magic—he might have to deal with. He couldn't make any assumptions about how this world worked based on the game.
Flipping back to the index, Mason noticed there was a section for skills. That gave him a bit of hope. But oddly, it wasn't on the Hero Panel or its tabs. Confused, he prepared to flip to the corresponding page when something caught his eye—a small pen icon etched near the spine of the book. It was subtle, almost hidden, as though it didn't want to be noticed unless you were really paying attention.
Curiosity getting the better of him, Mason brushed his fingers lightly over the icon. The response was immediate. With a quick snap, a feather shot halfway out of the spine, nearly startling him. He pulled his hand back instinctively but then leaned in closer, intrigued. The feather was mostly black with faint streaks of white running through it, and at the base, it connected to a slim metal cylinder. Mason had a good idea of what this was.
With confidence, he reached out, gently grasping the metal base, still embedded in the spine. With a slight tug, the feather and metal cylinder slid out smoothly, revealing a fountain pen with an elegant black feather on the end. The design was almost beautiful, intricate in its simplicity. He turned it over in his hand, the weight of it oddly comforting.
Maybe this was a way for him to write in the journal himself. The blank pages in the journal could possibly be filled with his own experiences or records. The thought of chronicling his journey intrigued him. With a small grin, he carefully pushed the pen back into the spine. The moment the metal cylinder touched the book, the feather disappeared at lightning speed, slipping back into its hidden compartment as if it had never been there.
"I'll deal with that later," Mason murmured to himself. Writing could wait. Right now, survival came first. He needed to know if he could learn any abilities. That was the key to navigating this world safely.
Growing increasingly puzzled. None of the sections listed in the index had page numbers next to them. The only reason he had found the Hero Panel earlier was because it had been placed just after the index, a fortunate coincidence. He hadn't thought much of it at the time, but now, with no page numbers to guide him, he wondered how he was supposed to navigate this strange book.
His eyes flicked back to the word Skills in the index, and he absentmindedly brushed his finger over the letters. To his surprise, the book reacted immediately. The pages snapped to life, flipping themselves without any effort from him. Wind brushed across his face as the pages fluttered, eventually settling on the section for skills. Mason blinked in mild surprise. So, all he had to do was touch the section he wanted, and the book would guide him there?
He smiled faintly at the revelation. "Well, that makes things easier."
Looking down at the page in front of him, he saw a brief introduction to the various classes and their respective skills. Each class had its own section, with subcategories for physical, magical, and hybrid abilities. It all looked very much like the system he knew from Guild Wars 2. But again, there was no indication of what class Mason belonged to, if any. Was he tied to one class, or was he free to choose from multiple paths?
The only way to find out was to try.
Mason navigated the page with ease. His finger hovered over the Warrior icon, and as soon as he tapped it, the book responded. The pages flitted once more, flipping rapidly until they landed on the warrior skills section. The layout was familiar, with abilities listed neatly in categories: physical attacks, defensive maneuvers, and then—what he was looking for—Signets.
He scanned the list, his eyes quickly finding the Signet skills. He tapped the heading, and once again, the book fluttered to the next page, displaying the specific Signet abilities available to warriors. Mason's gaze immediately locked onto what he was looking for: Healing Signet.
The description was brief but clear. In the game, the Healing Signet provided passive regeneration, constantly healing wounds and keeping the warrior in top condition. The active use of the signet would offer a burst of healing, though at the cost of temporarily suspending the passive effect. What intrigued Mason most was the regenerative factor. While not quite on the level of Wolverine's legendary healing ability, it wasn't far off. The Healing Signet's passive regeneration was only slightly slower—just enough that it would take a few moments longer to heal significant wounds, but still remarkably fast.
He studied the page for a moment, feeling a sense of anticipation building. This skill would be invaluable in a world he knew so little about. Whether he faced wild animals, magical threats, or even other people, Healing Signet would give him the edge he needed to survive.
Mason's hand hovered over the description of the Healing Signet, his fingers twitching slightly in eagerness. This was it. This was the first step toward understanding what he could do in this world.
Mason tapped the Healing Signet skill, expecting a simple explanation of the ability to appear. The page flipped as the book responded to his touch, but what he saw next was far from straightforward. Instead of a clear description of the skill, the pages were filled with diagrams and detailed, complex magical theory. It was dense, intricate, and nothing like what he had imagined.
He stared at the diagrams, his eyes tracing the arcane symbols and patterns that filled the page. Magical formations were drawn with precise lines, curves, and sigils, all interconnected in ways that were hard to follow at first glance. Mason squinted, trying to make sense of it. It wasn't just a matter of tapping the skill and learning it instantly. This was far more involved—something that required study and understanding.
As Mason continued to pore over the diagrams, he started to see how it worked. The Healing Signet wasn't just an ability you learned with a click. It appeared to function by inscribing a magical formation directly into the user's body. The idea reminded him of meridians in Chinese cultivation novels, though this wasn't about unlocking pre-existing paths in the body. There were no "qi" channels or anything like that here. Instead, the patterns had to be carved into the flesh itself, creating a new kind of magical pathway.
The diagrams showed how the formation worked like an engine. Once inscribed into the body, the formation would passively draw energy from the world around it, storing it within the body like a battery. This stored energy would keep the Signet charged, allowing for passive healing to occur continuously. Any injuries would be mended as the formation guided the energy to the damaged areas, healing them over time. And, of course, the Healing Signet could also be used actively to release a burst of energy for instant recovery, though that would drain the stored energy and leave the passive effect temporarily disabled until the formation recharged itself.
It was an elegant system—one that combined both simplicity and complexity in equal measure. The signet formation would ensure that Mason's body healed automatically, like a machine constantly replenishing its fuel. And the best part? It would keep running as long as there was energy to pull from the world. But as Mason scanned the page, a question began to form in his mind. If the Signet relied on energy from the world, did that mean it used magic? Was this some kind of magical energy?
He leaned back, pondering the implications. The book made it sound so matter-of-fact, but the more he thought about it, the more questions arose. This energy—whatever it was—would have to be accessible to him somehow. But how? And if he had the ability to tap into this energy, didn't that mean he could use magic too? He glanced back down at the book. There were no instructions here for accessing magic directly—only how to create the Signet formation. But clearly, if the book had appeared to him, he must have some kind of magical capability, right?
Mason's thoughts churned as he stared at the diagrams. If he could inscribe this formation into his body, he'd need to first figure out how to access the magical energy required to power it. Without that, none of this would work. He flipped the page back to the index, hoping to find answers.
His eyes scanned the list of topics, and once again, he noticed something peculiar—none of the entries had page numbers listed. He now understood why. This book wasn't meant to be navigated by flipping pages one by one. That would be impossible. Even as he skimmed through the sections, he realized that the book's pages seemed to stretch endlessly. It felt as though it had infinite pages, a never-ending supply of knowledge crammed into its mystical bindings. No matter how many times he tried, he wouldn't be able to flip through it like a normal book.
The topics he glimpsed as he flipped through the middle of the book were random, and none of them were relevant to what he needed. Some were completely nonsensical, others were obscure and seemingly useless. It became clear to Mason why the book had that odd touch-based navigation system. There was simply no other way to find what you needed.
Shaking his head at the absurdity of it all, Mason focused back on the index. The answer had to be here somewhere, hidden in the vast labyrinth of knowledge the book contained. But with the strange way the pages worked, he would have to rely on the same method he had used earlier—touching the index to guide him.
"Alright, magic… where are you?" he muttered under his breath, scanning the list carefully.
He didn't need to search for long. His fingers hovered over a section titled Magic Theory, and with a soft tap, the book reacted once again. The pages began to flip, fluttering in rapid succession as they carried him toward the section on magic. Mason waited, the wind from the flipping pages brushing against his face, as the book guided him toward the answers he sought.