The village was still smouldering as the sun began to set behind the northern mountain line. Soldiers were picking through the wreckage, looking for survivors, and more importantly valuables.
A guard was reluctantly shifting wooden boards with the haft of a spear when he heard coughing just ahead. He carefully climbed over some rubble and with the help of his spear, levered the remains of a charred table to reveal a dusty lad who looked mostly intact.
The guard crouched down while leaning on the spear, and with one hand, grabbed the boy's ankle and dragged him to safety. The table collapsed behind him in a cloud of ash, as the man withdrew the spear and inspected the lad.
"You alive sonny boy?"
The lad coughed weakly and opened his eyes. He tried to move before a flash of pain in his ribs threatened to steal his consciousness away. The Guard harrumphed before dragging the boy up by his arm, lending his spear as support.
"World's blessing on you me lad, never seen a sorrier sight than this if I'm to be honest. Those tribesmen took everything that wasn't nailed down and burned 'n killed what they couldn't! The guard whittered on, oblivious to the boy's pain, "The checkpoint is just up ahead, and we can get some warm brew in ye."
The two staggered their way to a manned checkpoint lit by torches. Soldiers were milling about, loading scavenged goods on to mule drawn carts. A frantic woman with singed hair was pacing around until she caught sight of the two tottering up to the checkpoint. She leapt down from the cart and ran up to them.
"Toli is that you? My son, oh gods please let it be you!" As she drew closer, the light of hope in her eyes was extinguished as recognition crept in, "Exill, World's blessing you are safe. Have you seen Toli? He should have been home when they attacked, did you see him at all?" The woman pleaded as she walked alongside the pair, desperately wringing her hands against her chest as she continued to throw questions at Exill.
"Calm ye' tits woman, can't you see the lad can barely breathe let alone answer ye' questions?" The Guard sighed in exasperation as they eventually reached the cart and unceremoniously pushed Exill over the side before retrieving his spear. He turned to the distraught mother and hesitated, likely searching deep down for every inch of tact, a gentle way to let this grieving woman down.
"The search is called off for today, it's late and growing dark, we'll look for ye' son tomorrow ma'am so please make ye' way back to camp."
The woman whimpered as the Guard gently shoved her into the cart before giving the driver a signal to set off. Perhaps now he could kick his boots off and get off his feet. Today was a miserable day and his parched throat needed a wetting from breathing in all those smouldering fumes.
***
Exill lay uncomfortably in the crowded cart as salvaged possessions poked his tender sides. The pain was tolerable, but he was stuck in a daze as he looked up into the dimming sky, filled with unfamiliar constellations. Two moons shone brightly up ahead.
'What in the…' Exill mouthed as his mind raced, thinking back on what had happened moments earlier. He remembered cycling to site Alpha, the breath fogging up the night air. He remembered a bright flash as a stream of protons fried his sight. Lastly, he could recall a vague sense of regret, something about a book he had been reading. The next memory was of blinding pain and a sweaty armoured man standing over him.
'It's real. My name is Exill and I've transmigrated into another world!' He thought excitedly, before quickly spamming all the usual tropes to invoke his status screen. Exhausting all the options that came to mind, he was about to give up when he tried whispering a name under his breath,
"Exill…"
A dim light flared up from the edge of his vision and looking down, he could see what looked like a baseball card floating above his upturned palm. With great effort he lifted his arm to better see the information displayed on the card. He was surprised to see sections expand intuitively as he mentally focused on tabs that caught his eye.
Exill of Lindtree Village.
Human, age 17.
His main job was Farmer, and his secondary job was blank, unassigned.
Attempting to assign a new job to the unassigned slot, he was greeted with a list of potential candidates:
[Forager], [Crafter], [Hunter], [Cook], [Planeswalker].
One was not like the others! Focusing on [Planeswalker], a more detailed explanation popped up:
'You forcibly entered this plane. You are unwelcome and the World rejects you.'
Beneath the ominous text there was a description of the associated skills and abilities:
[Rule Break]: Active skill/Passive buff: The World dares to weigh you down with artificial chains. Why should you submit..?
Warning: skill usage will increase rejection and you will suffer tribulations. Rejection: 5/100
Exill lost focus as the cart suddenly stumbled to a halt and soldiers emerged from the sides to unload the contents. Sitting up to look around him, he stumbled off the cart and winced as pain shot up his bruised sides. Exill looked around while gathering himself and spotted the woman who had mistaken him for her son, being led to a collection of tents.
Breathing shallowly as he struggled to keep up, he followed the woman and accompanying official through a bustling crowd of active soldiers. Over the hubbub of shouted orders he could barely overhear the conversation between the two.
"Ma'am, I hate to be rude but we are pressed for time. Do you have combat related or production jobs useful to the war effort?" The official asked, as they approached the secure entryway that led to a collection of tents.
"I'm sorry, I'm a farmer and a cook... Could you tell me what time you will restart the search for survivors in Lindtree?" The woman interjected with her own questions as the guard was about to speak.
"On sunrise, you have my word. Kindly let me check your Card and I will point you to the correct camp." The official glanced at the Card floating on the woman's palm before nodding and pointed her to an entrance on the right. Turning on his heel, he was startled as his eyes fell on the bedraggled Exill. "Lindtree survivor?" the man asked.
Exill nodded, his throat too parched to answer, he added, "f…farmer"
Leaning against the stockade as a sudden coughing fit threatened to burst his bruised sides, the official patiently supported him as the coughs subsided. Exill held his palm up to confirm his status. The uniformed man nodded as if something was self-explanatory:
"I see you've recently turned 17, explains why you don't have a secondary job yet. No problem, just follow that woman earlier to the right."
Before Exill could thank him, or even ask why it was obvious he didn't have a secondary job, the harried man had spun on his heel and made his way to the cart which was halfway unloaded by now. Turning towards the direction the official had pointed him, Exill had to stabilise himself as a sense of vertigo overwhelmed him.
The ground tremored again.
Soldiers in the distance could be heard cheering as the tremors grew closer, and even the personnel unloading the carts paused, looking back to identify the cause of the uproar. A gargantuan construct came round the hill, the sound of raw stone grinding against each other as the war machine rumbled into view. It was four storeys tall, squat, humanoid in shape, its heavy knuckled fists barely clearing the ground. A squad of green robed men and archers could be seen, bustling on the battlements where its head and shoulders should be.
Exill strained his ears, focusing on the conversation beside him over the cheering din of the soldiers.
"What in Spirit's name is that?" a young guard, eyes wide with wonder asked his grizzled companion.
"That be reinforcements son, must have redeployed some of the War Colossi protectin' the mountains up north." The veteran explained, tapping his heart twice as he was reminded of the monstrosities they guarded against.
The titanic construct disappeared from view and Exill came to his senses, displaying his Card to the young guard guarding the gates. After a cursory glance, he was waved through to the hastily erected camp. Circles of rag-tag tents were set up around several campfires and the smell of cooking wafted through the air. A sigh escaped Exill's lips as he made his way to a bubbling cauldron attended by two middle-aged women who appeared to be struggling over control of the ladle.