I awaken to the soft crackle of a distant campfire and the distant hum of something I can't quite name. For a moment, I feel suspended—like I'm neither lying down nor standing, as though gravity can't quite decide what to do with me. Then I realize I'm lying on something firm but not uncomfortable. I open my eyes.
It's dim. There's a warm glow from a small fire pit in the center of a clearing—except this clearing is enclosed by mist on all sides, and the ground feels strangely uniform, as if it's the same patch of earth repeated in all directions. When I shift, I notice the slight crunch of gravel and scattered pine needles under me. The air smells faintly of old woodsmoke and damp leaves. I sit up, body stiff but not sore, and glance around.
There's no sky, only a swirling curtain of gray-white haze above and around. The campfire's flames dance bravely, as if challenging the mist to swallow them. There's a wooden stump near the fire, and on it rests a leather-bound box about the size of a shoebox. A few rolled-up sleeping mats, a handful of tools—everything seems prepared, as if for a journey. But I'm alone. Or so it appears.
My head aches with questions I can't articulate: Who am I? How did I get here? Where is here?
I rise and walk over to the stump. The box has an engraving: Eternal Campground. The words shimmer, and for a second I think I'm seeing things. My own name—if I have one—escapes me. I need something, some anchor. I touch the box, feeling its well-worn leather surface, and it clicks open with a gentle push.
Inside are cards. A deck of them, neatly stacked. They're not playing cards—I see no suits or numbers. Each card has strange markings, half-visible runes, small illustrations. My hand trembles slightly as I lift the top card. As soon as I focus on it, words appear in my mind: "Boarded-Up Grocery Store." A location card. I blink. How do I know that?
I look at the next card: "Scavenger Prowler," an enemy card. Then another: "Ravenous Blackout," an event card. More and more. My pulse quickens. I don't know how, but I understand that these cards shape the world beyond the mist. They must be tools I can use to peel back the fog and reveal what lies hidden. Am I… supposed to build something out there?
A soft chime rings behind me, and I turn with a start. A figure stands at the edge of the campsite, half in and half out of the mist. She's slight, wrapped in tattered robes, and her features are indistinct, as if I'm looking at a watercolor painting that hasn't fully dried. She steps forward—no, glides forward—and clears her throat.
"Welcome." Her voice is gentle. "You've come to the Eternal Campground, a safe refuge in this labyrinth. You must be the new traveler."
I take a step back, instinctively clutching the card in my hand. "Who… who are you?"
She bows her head slightly, her dark hair hanging loose. "My name is Lynn. I've been waiting for someone like you. Someone who can use the cards to reveal the path." She tilts her head, as if listening to the wind. "You are… newly reborn, yes? No memories, no allies. That's common here."
Newly reborn? That would explain why I recall nothing before opening my eyes. "I don't remember anything," I say quietly.
Her eyes soften. "You are not alone. I can help. Together, perhaps we can find a way through this mist."
I study her face. I see sincerity there. "You said I can use these cards. How?"
She gestures to the edge of the clearing, where the mist swirls thickly. "This realm is broken into fragments hidden by the Mist. Location cards draw forth pieces of the world. Event cards color their nature. Enemy cards seed them with threats. It's dangerous, yes, but necessary. Each revealed section can bring us closer to understanding why we are here and how to escape."
I swallow. Escape. The word lodges itself in my mind, heavy with meaning. "So, if I place this card out there…" I lift the Boarded-Up Grocery Store card. "It'll become real?"
"Yes," Lynn says, stepping closer. I can make out her features now: pale skin, sharp but kind eyes. "Stand at the threshold of the mist and focus. The Eternal Campground exists in many places at once, so wherever we go, we can find our way back here. But to move forward, you must choose a Location and pair it with an Event and an Enemy. Only then will the Mist part."
My heart thrums. It sounds dangerous. But what choice do I have? I glance at the deck and pick out the simplest combination I can imagine. The Grocery Store as a location. For enemies, maybe something weak. I pull out "Scavenger Prowler." They sound human, desperate but maybe manageable. For the event… "Ravenous Blackout." That seems ominous, but maybe manageable?
Lynn watches me, arms folded. "Ravenous Blackout," she murmurs. "When that event is active, the lights will fail, and enemies might frenzy. But they're also easily startled, and you can use that to your advantage."
I nod, swallowing my nervousness. I approach the edge of the clearing. The mist churns, thick as soup. I hold the three cards up. I'm not sure what I'm doing, but as I concentrate, I feel a strange warmth in my fingertips. The runes on the cards flare, then dim. The mist begins to recede, swirling as if caught in a slow, deliberate dance.
Something materializes: a crumbling street lined with smashed cars and heaps of debris. At its center stands a boarded-up grocery store, its windows broken, doors barricaded with old wood and bent metal. Dim emergency lamps flicker inside. As the scene solidifies, I feel a faint tug—like gravity shifting. The Eternal Campground's soil merges seamlessly with cracked asphalt. The campfire's glow stretches oddly, as if reluctant to leave its safety.
Lynn steps beside me and places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "You did it," she says softly.
I take a careful step forward, peering into the gloom. A distant rattling sound makes me tense. The Grocery Store stands ahead, its sign missing letters, spelling something like "ar_Mar." Shelves inside are overturned, aisles cluttered with rotten produce and rusted cans. A stench of decay wafts out as I approach.
We stop a few paces from the threshold. On cue, the lights inside flicker and go dead. The Ravenous Blackout event takes hold, plunging the interior into darkness. I catch movement at the far end of an aisle: something humanoid, crawling low, dragging a length of pipe along the floor. The Scavenger Prowler.
My heart beats so loudly I'm certain the enemy can hear it. Lynn leans close and whispers, "They're predators of opportunity. If they sense weakness, they'll attack. But make a sudden noise, and they might panic. Stay low, move quietly."
I nod, barely breathing. A faint scraping on broken glass tells me there might be more than one prowler. I look back, and I can still see the Eternal Campground's glow a few steps behind me. It's bizarre—the campground doesn't vanish, it just sits there, stable and calm at the edge of this ruined street.
I need something to defend myself with. I scan the ground and find a broken broom handle near the door. It's not much, but better than empty hands. Lynn raises her empty palms and murmurs a soft prayer. A gentle glow forms at her fingertips, then vanishes. She gives me a nod. Whatever that was, maybe it's a healing spell or some blessing.
We creep inside. The darkness is near-total, but my eyes adjust slowly to the faint glow of distant fires outside and the reflections on broken glass. I see a shape scuttling behind an overturned register. Its breathing rasps, and it mutters incoherently—words like "mine" and "food" drift through the silence.
I inch forward. The floor squishes underfoot: rotten produce and who-knows-what else. I'm careful not to slip. Behind me, Lynn stays calm and quiet. I raise a hand, suggesting we circle around to the side aisles and avoid direct confrontation. If we can find supplies—food, bandages, or something useful—and then return to the campground, that might be worth the risk.
As I pass a toppled display of canned beans, my foot nudges a loose can. It rolls, rattling loudly. Instantly, a hiss escapes the Prowler's throat. I duck behind a shelf and hold my breath, heart pounding. The scavenger darts forward, pipe raised, eyes reflecting a feral glint. For a moment, I think it will attack blindly, but then Lynn gently scrapes a piece of metal on the floor behind me. The sudden noise makes the Prowler hiss again and scramble back. I can sense its fear—sound frightens it more than anything.
I pick up a can and toss it to the opposite side of the store. It clangs and rattles, echoing off empty shelves. The Prowler gasps and retreats into a corner, whimpering softly. Taking advantage of this, I move quickly down an aisle. Lynn follows, her footsteps impossibly light.
Near the back of the store, I find a locked storeroom door. Its handle is rusted, and the wood around the frame is weakened by mold. I wedge the broom handle under the latch and pry. With a low creak, it snaps open. Inside, there's a stash of canned goods, mostly sealed. A treasure in this world, I suspect. I also spot a first aid kit on a high shelf. I grab it, heart hammering. Lynn smiles, relief visible on her face.
On our way out, we need a distraction. The Prowler still loiters, breathing heavily near a broken cooler. I whisper to Lynn, "Got any more of those noises?"
She picks up a shard of glass and flicks it to the far corner. It shatters softly, and the Prowler bolts further into the darkness, terrified. We slip out, hearts in our throats.
Back in the open street, under the mist-shrouded sky, I exhale deeply. The Eternal Campground flickers gently behind us, waiting. Lynn brushes dust off her robe and nods approvingly. "You did well," she says. "We have food and medical supplies now. Not all excursions will go so smoothly."
I manage a shaky smile. My pulse still races, but I feel a tingle of accomplishment. I placed cards, revealed a fragment of this broken world, and survived. I notice something else: a faint glow emanates from me. When I close my eyes, I see a transparent panel, as if in my mind's eye—a status screen.
Words float there.
[Has Joined the Party: Lynn the Ascetic Healer].
Below that, I see my name—or the name I must bear here—Rook. And my level: 1.
A LitRPG system? That's what it feels like. Confusing, but also exhilarating. I have a name now. I taste it on my tongue silently: Rook. It'll have to do.
We step back into the Eternal Campground. The transition is seamless—one step, and we're back at the fire, the stump, and the deck of cards. Lynn stands at my side. I notice now that she's more solid, her features clearer, as if my accepting her into my party has anchored her existence. She looks human, but there's a gentle glow in her eyes, something otherworldly.
I sort through the supplies we acquired: a half-dozen cans of beans, a medkit with bandages and antiseptics, and some random odds and ends. Not much, but it's a start. Lynn picks up one of the beans, inspects it with curiosity, and sets it back down, smiling softly. She doesn't seem hungry—or maybe she's just patient.
As I settle onto a sleeping mat near the fire, I realize I am exhausted. But not beaten. There's a sense of possibility here, as if I can shape this world's mysteries with my own hands. The mist still surrounds us, countless unknown fragments waiting to be revealed. I have a deck, a companion, and the Eternal Campground as my refuge.
This world might be hostile and strange, but I'm not alone. I have a purpose: to navigate the labyrinth, to discover who I am, and to survive. For now, I rest, listening to the quiet crackle of the campfire, one hand on the deck of cards, heart still pounding with the promise of what lies ahead.