-Arkan Lawrence-
I sat in a small corner of the tavern, idly spinning my empty glass in my hand while my thoughts churned relentlessly.
Two days had passed, and still no solid lead. My frustration was mounting, pushing me into the unproductive spiral of contemplating things I had no business dwelling on.
Supernatural conflicts, huh? It always looks thrilling from a spectator's perspective—novels, movies, games. Explosions of magic, glowing weapons, giant monsters tearing through the battlefield.
But now?
Now I was living in that world, and I wasn't the hero with superpowers or plot armor. I was just an NPC, someone who barely mattered in the grand tapestry of this so-called epic story.
If a battle of that magnitude erupted in front of me, would I survive? Or would I end up another casualty buried beneath the rubble?
I let out a long sigh, draining the last of my ale.
Caution. That was all I could rely on. If I wanted to survive this unfolding disaster, I needed to be prepared for anything. There was no room for complacency, especially given what I knew was coming in this arc.
This arc...
Dirge.
The memories of the story played through my mind. This village was the stage for one of Rainer's turning points, the first step in his rise from despair, solidifying his resolve to continue as a true hero.
But for everyone around him? It was a catastrophe.
The innocent villagers would be caught in the devastation. The curse draining their vitality was merely a side effect of the dark mage's ritual to awaken a colossal beast—a centipede that would become one of the novel's most iconic early adversaries.
Rainer, as the protagonist, would undoubtedly triumph. That was a given. But what would happen to this village afterward? To the people who called this place home?
I pressed a hand to my temple, trying to lay out my next steps. I couldn't rely entirely on Rainer. He might be the main character, but I refused to entrust my life to a plot that could veer off course just because I was here.
Preparation. It all boiled down to that.
Standing, I paid for my ale and left the tavern.
The night deepened, wrapping the village in an eerie stillness. To me, the silence was the harbinger of a coming storm.
"All right," I muttered, shoving my hands into my pockets. "Let's see what I can do to survive in the middle of this madness."
As I walked back to the inn, my mind kept running through the steps I needed to take.
Step one: information.
I knew the storyline well enough. The giant centipede—or rather, the cursed creature undergoing metamorphosis—was hiding underground. Its exact location was an old cave outside the village, near an abandoned well.
In the novel, the centipede would burst forth by shattering the ground around it, unleashing chaos before the climactic battle began. I knew the location. I just needed to confirm it for myself.
Step two: a plan.
If that creature was going to break through the ground, I needed to lay traps around the area. Fighting it directly was out of the question—that was Rainer's job. But I could weaken it, or at least slow it down enough for Rainer to land a decisive blow.
And then there were the villagers. If I left them near the battlefield, casualties would be inevitable. They had to be moved to safety before things began.
Step three: resources.
I began mentally inventorying what I had.
A few flare bombs from my earlier preparations. Simple weapons like my crossbow and knife. Improvised materials for creating more traps.
It wasn't enough. I needed more explosives or tools that could make my traps effective against something that massive.
"Maybe there's something usable around the village," I mused, thinking of the scattered debris and old tools in the area. If I could find gunpowder or similar materials, it'd give me a crucial edge.
Step four: execution.
This was the hardest part. No matter how well I planned, everything could fall apart in a matter of seconds. I had to be ready to adapt.
"All right," I muttered, glancing up at the darkening sky. "Let's get to work."
I soon found myself on the outskirts of the village, at a small clearing surrounding an ancient, weathered well. Withered trees loomed over it, their skeletal branches casting eerie shadows in the moonlight.
This well was the epicenter of it all. Beneath it, the centipede was preparing to emerge.
Crouching, I dug into the dirt around the well, testing its consistency. The ground was loose and cracked, as if waiting to collapse. This was the spot.
"Right," I said under my breath. "Time to get started."
Using the basic tools and knowledge I had, I began setting up traps. Simple pitfalls with sharpened stakes, surrounded by improvised explosives. If the centipede emerged, its first steps would plunge straight into a lethal surprise.
I also rigged a few flare bombs in key positions. The light and noise would create diversions, buying crucial moments for Rainer to strike.
By the time dawn approached, my traps were complete. I stood amidst the crude contraptions, taking a moment to steady my nerves.
'This is just the opening move,' I thought. 'The real fight hasn't even started yet.'
Turning to the well, I stared into its dark depths. Faint tremors vibrated beneath the surface—a low, almost imperceptible hum.
The centipede was nearly ready.
And so was I.
I wouldn't be just another nameless NPC to be forgotten in the chaos. This time, I would survive. This time, I might even make a difference.