"A Korean guy, another compatriot, I am sure I did not see wrong."
"Are you sure that he is Korean? You might confuse him with someone from Northern China, Japan, or even a mix of similar ethnic groups. Or are you able to distinguish people as precisely as a machine?"
"Not at all, you're just not paying close enough attention. Koreans, Japanese, and Chinese may belong to the same race, but they still have distinct features."
"So in that moment, did you intuitively feel that he could be a potential ally?"
"He looks like one of those male leads from Korean romance dramas—handsome, cold, mysterious. How could that not make women fall for him?" Aldo sighs.
I smirk, "Is that so?"
I glance at Aldo, then at the vast Kethem River, which stretches more than two kilometers from where we sit. The river's water is muddy brown, different from the usual image of a clear river. Ignorant people would think the water is dirty, but in fact, it's due to the large amount of silt. It's no surprise that along both riverbanks, fields of golden wheat flourish, their yellow stalks like strands of straw, covering the plains with their golden hue, filling the air with a light, milky fragrance, as soft sunlight gently enhances this picturesque scene.
Suddenly, Aldo stands up and walks away.
"Hey, Aldo, where are you going?" I turn my head, bewildered.
"Scouting the area. I suspect the Sapphic cult might have a base here too," Aldo replies.
"If that's the case, count me in!" I respond hurriedly, standing up and running after Aldo.
We leave the city's cultivated area within fifteen minutes, then approach a nearby pine forest. We weave our way through narrow gaps between the dark brown pine trees. Glowing butterflies flutter through the air like tiny crystals. The sound of a waterfall dominates the tight space, while the strong scent of honey, anise, and pine cones fills the air, intoxicating us both. Despite nature's beauty, Aldo doesn't bother to utter a word.
"Aldo? Aldo!" I shout as I follow him.
"Is something wrong?" Aldo turns around, frowning at me with visible irritation.
"Do you think that..." I begin.
Aldo sighs.
"Veritas, if you want to present your thoughts or opinions to someone, can you stop with the 'do you think'? Let's communicate directly and concisely."
I nod.
"Good. So, what were you trying to say earlier?" Aldo asks indifferently, turning his head forward.
"Should we talk a little?" I ask.
"That's it?" Aldo presses.
This sudden question leaves me at a loss. It's the last response I expected. My mind spins with random thoughts like "Why did he say that?" and "Is Aldo upset about something?"
I respond with a simple nod.
"Back on Earth, what social media platforms did you use?" I ask.
"Facebook, Zalo, Skype, YouTube," Aldo replies.
"Oh... so you didn't use TikTok, Instagram, Snapchat, or Discord? Is there a reason for that?" I continue.
We walk through the forest, and Aldo remains silent. Is he really taking the time to think about such a simple question? Do all introverts act like they're answering a job interview?
" Not necessary. Those four platforms are enough for communication and entertainment, " Aldo finally responds.
We keep walking in the forest, and now it's my turn to stay silent, thinking of ways to keep the conversation going with this awful conversationalist, Aldo.
" In Vietnam, people mostly use Facebook, YouTube, and Zalo, but not many use Skype. It's mainly for contacting foreign friends or businesses, " I say.
"Well..." Aldo starts to say, then falls silent. In his eyes, I can see that Aldo struggles even with answering simple questions. After a long pause, he stays silent, which frustrates me.
I guess I'll have to change the subject.
" Do you know any K-pop bands? " I ask.
" No, " Aldo replies curtly.
" No? ", I ask him again.
" No .", he insists.
I raise my eyebrow, "Really, you don't know any bands? Not even world-famous ones?"
Aldo nods. "I only remember song titles, not the artists."
" Moreover, while knowledge of or admiration for such figures may be commonplace or even a hobby for some, I find it personally superfluous. "
This guy is so pragmatic.
"Do you have any favorite models or actors?"
"You remind me I haven't watched a single movie in the past five years!"
This guy is *too* pragmatic.
"Slow down!" Aldo suddenly raises his hand, interrupting my thoughts.
"What's going on?" I ask, puzzled.
"There are two women in the forest, 12 meters away in the direction I'm facing," Aldo slightly tilts his head to the right, and I follow his gaze.
Sure enough, there are two women. Both are young, fair-skinned, and relatively tall. The woman on the left has long, straight black hair and sharp hazel eyes, which seem to be able to see through anyone. She is dressed elegantly in a pale pink coat, a white turtleneck, a tweed skirt, and a pearl necklace. The other woman, slightly taller, has almond-colored eyes and short, sporty hair (a tomboy cut, perhaps?) and is wearing a long white cloak with a sword at her waist. They are deep in conversation, though I cannot make out the content.
"That Korean girl has a modern look, quite different from the usual attire of women in this era. I suspect she might be from Earth, just like us," Aldo remarks.
I widen my eyes in surprise before narrowing them again. "I think your Fleshmorph ability is allowing you to identify the race of the person opposite you."
Aldo pulls me behind a large tree, and we hide there.
"Aldo, I've seen enough movies to know one thing directors keep recycling: if we stay, we'll definitely get caught. One scenario is that we'll be captured—they could be independents, allies, or from the Sapphic faction. Another possibility is that we'll get entangled in a new problem, like a challenge or a new enemy," I say, squinting and pointing at Aldo's chest in complaint.
"How many enemies do we have so far?" Aldo asks.
"The Sapphic Church, that's for sure and obvious. Then there's the Arian Bandits, whom we defeated at Jejimon. They still ambush us from time to time, most recently when Zihao crossed the desert to reach Noir. The newest enemy is the Bone Collector, someone we know nothing about except the name and the possibility that they can fully change their gender, unlike the usual surgical or hormonal methods. Too many enemies already," I respond.
"Let's run!" Aldo declares, darting ahead.
I'm about to yell, "Wait!" but my instincts warn me that doing so would get us both caught, so I stay quiet and run after him.
"Trouble averted!" I sigh in relief.
Suddenly, while we are running, Aldo grabs my sleeve and swiftly pulls me to the ground, taking me with him. As I lie there in confusion, a large tree beside us falls in our direction. I push Aldo away and roll. We are both thrown backward but manage to avoid being crushed by the falling tree.
Aldo glances at the tree stump. "Perfect cut!"
"How is that possible? We didn't leave any traces. How did they track us?" I ask, bewildered.
Just then, the woman in the long white cloak with the sword steps out from behind another tree.
"You were eavesdropping on us. I have no choice but to eliminate you both," the woman says emotionlessly, her gaze piercing as she stares at us.
"Aldo," I whisper, tugging at his arm as he prepares to defend himself.
"What? Make it quick. We're being hunted!" Aldo snaps without turning toward me.
"Based on my observation and experience, the material of that sword is D2 steel—gray alloy with a smooth, polished surface, highly resistant to wear, corrosion, and heat," I explain.
"So, what does that mean?" Aldo raises an eyebrow.
"What does it mean? Think, Aldo! In this cursed medieval fantasy world, the most advanced metals are steel or cast iron, maybe some other alloys. But D2 steel? It's likely brought here from Earth through some advanced technology."
As soon as I finish speaking, Aldo grabs my sleeve again and runs as fast as he can, dragging me along. The woman quickly pursues us.
"Aldo, why are you running?" I ask, frowning.
"Veritas, we're just a couple of 14-year-olds, nothing more. We were summoned to this world as slaves, either by accident or on purpose. We escaped, and now we're trying to find a way back to Earth. No system, no significant power boosts, and not even a trace of magic!" Aldo retorts.
"But we're still strong enough to defeat enemies up to a certain point. The fact that we consumed parts of Fleshmorphs and Metallers to become Neo-Fleshmorph and Neo-Metaller wasn't just for show!" I argue.
"Not against her," Aldo replies curtly.
As if on cue, only a few seconds later, the woman pushes both of us hard against a massive ancient tree. We collapse to the ground, barely able to move.
The woman hurls her sword towards Aldo. The blade pierces through his chest and pins him down with such speed that I cannot follow its movement. A stream of bright red blood flows from Aldo's chest. Without hesitation, she rushes towards me at lightning speed. As soon as she approaches, three tentacles swiftly wrap around her legs and waist, pulling her back towards Aldo. Ah, it is Aldo who has transformed his arms into tentacles (and removed the sword from his chest, with the wound quickly healing), a power of both the fleshmorph and neo-fleshmorph.
"What? A monster like you still isn't dead!?" The woman gasps in shock at Aldo's ability (clearly, she knows nothing about fleshmorphs), but she quickly regains her composure. She pulls a dagger from her side and slices through the tentacles. The severed parts immediately turn black and disintegrate.
"See, Aldo? This power is finally proving useful," I exclaim.
"Speak in Vietnamese. I'm sure the enemy doesn't understand it," Aldo replies.
The woman assumes a combat stance, while Aldo returns his arms to normal and readies himself in a defensive position, though he secretly signals for me to run. I quietly slip away. A layer of black fabric envelops Aldo—it's just his A-causa suit. The Japanese woman is, of course, surprised, but she remains unflustered. What she doesn't expect is that Aldo uses this suit to become invisible and flee.
She looks around, confused, even casting a spell to see through invisibility, but finds nothing. At this moment, another woman arrives, panting, sweating, and slightly flushed with exhaustion.
"They escaped?" the second woman asks.
"Yes, the two of them fled, using quite a few tricks," the woman in the cloak responds, sighing, her face showing disappointment and worry. "That nerdy-looking one, he has more abilities than I expected."
"Is that so…" the second woman strokes her chin, then glances at her companion. "Where's your sword?"
The woman in the cloak now looks around in confusion, staring at her hand, her eyes widening in shock and concern. "That nerd, he took it too…"
"No matter," the second woman reassures her. "Tell Rita to track them down and bring them back to my villa." She smiles confidently.
After successfully escaping, Aldo and I begin cutting down some nearby banana trees.
"Why are there so many kinds of bananas here? Blue, red, yellow, purple, black bananas!" Aldo exclaims in amazement.
"Never mind that. If we can, let's take some seeds back to plant or sell," I respond, continuing to use the sword I stole from the woman to chop down the trees.
Once we finish cutting down several trunks, we use plant fibers to bind them together into a raft. The process is quite challenging and tiring since we have little experience with this kind of task. In fact, it takes us three attempts to make a decent raft. The first failure is due to Aldo selecting heavily rotted trunks. The second failure occurs because I tie the ropes carelessly, too loosely, and then release the raft like a fool, causing it to break apart and float away down the Kethem River. The third time is successful after we fix these weaknesses. With the makeshift raft complete, we step aboard, checking for gaps and weight distribution before cutting the ropes tying it to the riverbank to set sail. The rushing water crashes against the raft, causing it to rock violently. Aldo and I struggle to maintain our balance so as not to capsize.
After a while, the river calms down, and the water no longer rushes. Aldo grabs a piece of wood to use as a paddle and starts rowing to increase our speed.
"There's no need to hurry; it's already noon," I say, glancing at my brass pocket watch. "Let's take it easy and enjoy the scenery along the riverbanks." I smile. "Honestly, Aldo, sometimes we should relax a little."
Aldo nods slightly and gazes at a stretch of river to our left.
The golden fields of wheat shimmer before me, a scene both familiar and yet elusive, calling to me from the depths of my memory. Within, I find myself drifting back to those sun-soaked afternoons, where I once ran freely across endless rice paddies, my feet stirring the soft earth of a world that I have long left behind—a world called Earth. I pause now, in the stillness, and draw in a deep breath, savoring the air as it fills my lungs. An intense, almost overwhelming feeling rises within me, a longing to capture this quiet moment and cradle it in my hands, to preserve it as it is, untouched by the passage of time. How strange, how bittersweet, to feel so grounded in this place and yet so far from it.
I close my eyes, hoping for time to halt, for the world to cease its spinning, so that the delicate hues of this memory might never fade. And oh, the scent that lingers here—it is sweet, so sweet, but not in the heavy way of indulgence; it is a sweetness that is light, ethereal, like the dawn when the air is filled with the warmth of freshly baked bread. There is a comfort in it, a sense of belonging, like the embrace of something known and loved, yet rediscovered in a new form.
And somewhere, woven within that gentle sweetness, there is the unmistakable fragrance of nature itself—the raw, untamed scent of wild grasses mingling with the rich, seductive musk of the soil beneath. It is a smell so wild, so primal, it feels almost foreign, yet alluring all the same. And in that wildness, faint but present, there lies a softness—an irresistible, delicate perfume carried on the breeze from the wildflowers scattered across the forgotten corners of the field.
People often liken the beauty of a maiden to the blossoming of flowers, but I find myself thinking the opposite. It is the beauty of the maiden that should be the measure of the flower's grace. Where others seek perfection in the manicured rows of tulip gardens or the sculpted beds of roses and hydrangeas, I lose myself in the untamed, unpolished splendor of the flowers that grow unnoticed among the tall, swaying grasses, where the wild and forgotten meet.
There is a symphony here, rising up from the earth itself—a chorus of fragrances, a blending of the wild with the human, the labor of the farmer etched into the fields, balanced perfectly against the forces of nature. And in this mingling of effort and wildness, I feel the pulse of something timeless, something pure. Only by pausing, by truly breathing it in and cherishing it, can one begin to grasp the beauty that resides in such a simple, fleeting moment.
Aldo sits in the soft, dim light, his breath as gentle as a passing breeze. Never before have I seen him so at ease. His earthy brown eyes are fixed on the golden, swaying stalks of wheat. It's as if his soul wants to immerse itself in the most innocent of reflections, and something—perhaps the poet within him, long thought dead—now stirs and awakens, blooming like a wildflower breaking through the cracks of concrete in the bustling rush of life.
Nature has its way of teasing us.
"The wheat... it's so soft, so sweet, swaying like young maidens in the wind…" Aldo murmurs, his voice dipping low as his gaze remains locked on the golden sea before him. Yet, his eyes aren't on the field as a whole, but on each individual stalk, noticing their subtle distinctions. "This one stands firm, unmoved, like a strong woman in the face of hardship. And this one here, leaning close to the others—like a happy family…"
A faint smile touches his lips, a delicate curve, and I am certain of it now. His face relaxes, his body leans back, propped up by one arm. Aldo, in this moment, is like a writer lost in the colorful world of his own creation, his thoughts painting vibrant landscapes.
I feel it too. My own soul is a garden, and with each passing thought, birds sing for joy, stirred by the laughter that echoes inside me.
I wonder, could the children of the city, who've never set foot in the countryside, ever dream of such a place? Could they truly sense the ancient beauty that lingers here, eternal and serene?
Just as I am swept away in my reverie, Aldo's voice slices through my wandering thoughts.
"Veritas, at the end of this river, those two women we met are waiting… and one more. Ready your weapons for battle."
In a different setting, a young man experiences a sense of disillusionment as he listens to the hollow rhetoric of politicians, their words failing to resonate with his desire for meaningful discourse.
Meanwhile, in another part of the world, a blacksmith is caught off guard by the unexpected appearance of a girl, whose curiosity about metallurgy sparks intrigue within him. The clash of interests between their worlds reveals the beauty of unexpected encounters.
In yet another location, a group of individuals arrives in the city ahead of schedule, their hearts filled with anticipation for a long-awaited reunion. Their collective excitement underscores the significance of the moment, as they look forward to reconnecting and sharing stories of their journeys.
Each of these scenes reflects the diverse tapestry of human experience, where moments of disappointment, curiosity, and joy intertwine in the ever-flowing narrative of life.