The towering gates of Oakwood loomed ahead, crafted from ancient wood reinforced with bands of steel. The settlement was bustling with activity—merchants shouting over each other, guards patrolling with sharp eyes, and adventurers of all shapes and sizes coming and going.
Malachi's gaze swept over the scene as he approached the gates, still trying to piece together how he had ended up in this strange world. His instincts told him to stay on guard, but the atmosphere of the settlement was oddly... warm.
Just as he reached the entrance, a familiar voice called out.
"Hey, boss! Took you long enough!"
Malachi's head snapped toward the sound, and his jaw dropped. Standing by the gate, leaning casually against a post, was Joe, the Emperors' longtime driver. His ever-present grin was as wide as ever, and he looked completely at ease, as if he hadn't just been blown up back on Earth.
"Joe?" Malachi blinked, his grip tightening on the sword at his hip. "What the hell are you doing here? Am I dreaming, or are you a ghost?"
Joe laughed, slapping his knee. "Ghost? Nah, boss, I'm as alive as you are. Surprised? The 'higher-ups' thought you'd appreciate a familiar face to ease you into this whole mess."
Malachi frowned, stepping closer. "Higher-ups? What's going on here, Joe? And why are you acting like this is just another Tuesday?"
Joe straightened up, his grin softening into something almost apologetic. "Look, Malachi, I don't have all the answers. All I know is that I'm here because they sent me to welcome you. My job's to explain the basics and make sure you don't get yourself killed on day one."
Malachi crossed his arms, studying Joe carefully. "Basics of what, exactly?"
Joe gestured toward the gates, motioning for Malachi to follow him inside. "Come on, boss. I'll explain everything on the way. Welcome to Tattooria, by the way. It's not Earth, but it's got its charms."
---
As they walked through Oakwood, Joe began to explain.
"Tattooria is... let's call it a unique world," Joe began. "The main thing you need to know? Everything here runs on tattoos. Power, status, skills, abilities—it all comes from the tattoos people have on their bodies."
"Tattoos?" Malachi echoed, raising an eyebrow.
Joe nodded. "Yeah. They're not just ink. They're alive. Each one is infused with a unique power, and those powers are ranked by levels and categories. Let me break it down for you."
He held up a hand and began counting off. "Levels first. From weakest to strongest, you've got: Gray, White, Green, Blue, Purple, Gold, Red, Unique, and Legendary. Each level is further divided into ten marks. A Gray-level tattoo with one mark is the weakest thing you can get, and a Legendary-level tattoo with ten marks? Well, let's just say you'd be the biggest badass in Tattooria."
Malachi smirked faintly. "Sounds like a game system. What are these 'categories'?"
"Glad you asked," Joe replied. "Tattoos aren't all the same. They're split into five main categories:
Tool: Weapons, armor, or gadgets you can summon and use.
Summon: Creatures or entities you can call to fight for you.
Transformation: Changes to your body, like enhanced strength or turning into a beast.
Possession: Skills or abilities that improve your mind or reflexes.
Abstract: The wild card. These are rare and don't fit neatly into the other categories. Could be anything from teleportation to manipulating time."
Malachi processed the information, his sharp mind already piecing together potential strategies. "And how do people get these tattoos?"
Joe chuckled. "That's the tricky part. Tattoos can be found, earned, or stolen. Some are hidden in dungeons, others given as rewards for completing quests. Hell, some people are born with them. But here's the catch—no matter how you get one, the System decides if you're worthy to use it."
"The System?"
"Yeah, it's... well, it's a lot like a game interface. Here, let me show you."
Joe flicked his wrist, and a glowing screen materialized in front of him, floating in midair. It was translucent, with clean, simple text and icons arranged in an intuitive layout.
Malachi's own screen suddenly popped up as if responding to Joe's demonstration:
---
SYSTEM DISPLAY
Name: Malachi Reed
Title: None
Tattoos: None
Arts: None
Quests: None
Description: An average human male.
---
Malachi stared at the screen, a mix of curiosity and frustration bubbling within him. "No tattoos? I'm starting at rock bottom?"
"Relax, boss," Joe said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Everyone starts somewhere. You've got the skills to climb your way up—if you play smart."
Malachi's eyes narrowed as he studied the screen. It felt familiar, almost comforting, despite the alien world around him. His mind shifted into the same mode he used before a tournament: analyzing, calculating, preparing.
"What now?" he asked.
Joe grinned. "Now? You get settled in Oakwood. Find a beginner's quest, maybe get your first tattoo. But I'll warn you, boss—Tattooria isn't like Earth. You screw up here, and there's no respawn."
Malachi smirked, his sharp green eyes gleaming. "Good. I wouldn't have it any other way."
Joe led Malachi through Oakwood, pointing out the various landmarks as they walked. The settlement had an eclectic charm, with wooden structures reinforced by metallic accents and bustling streets filled with traders, craftsmen, and adventurers. The air was alive with chatter, the clinking of metal, and the occasional burst of magic from street performers showing off their tattoos.
Joe finally stopped in front of a crossroads where two prominent paths diverged. One led to a busy marketplace, while the other sloped upward to a sturdy, castle-like building with a carved emblem of a sword and shield above its entrance.
"Alright, boss," Joe said, turning to face Malachi. "This is where you decide how you want to start. You've got two main options:
1. Adventuring. This is the classic route—sign up at the Adventurers' Guild and start taking quests. They pay decently, and you can earn tattoos or even special rewards. But fair warning, it's risky. Some of these quests are no joke, especially for someone without tattoos yet."
Malachi raised an eyebrow. "And the other option?"
Joe pointed toward the bustling marketplace. "Miscellaneous work. You'll be helping around the settlement—delivery jobs, assisting craftsmen, that sort of thing. It's safer and earns you a bit of coin, but it won't do much to build your reputation or strength."
Malachi considered the options, glancing toward the guild's towering structure.
"One more thing," Joe added, his tone turning serious for the first time. "Not every tattoo in Tattooria is legal. There are things called Dark Tattoos, and trust me when I say they're bad news. They're infused with forbidden power—stuff that can corrupt you or mess with the natural order. The reigning kingdom, the Crown Dominion, has zero tolerance for anyone caught using one. You'd be hunted relentlessly, no matter how strong you are."
Malachi's eyes narrowed. "And people still use them?"
Joe shrugged. "Desperation, greed, power—you know how people are. Just steer clear of anything that feels... wrong. You'll know it when you see it."
Malachi looked back at the Adventurers' Guild, his decision already made. "I'm not here to play it safe. I'll take my chances with adventuring."
Joe grinned. "Knew you'd say that, boss. You were always the type to dive headfirst into the fire."
He stepped back, giving Malachi a mock salute. "Well, this is where I leave you. Good luck out there, Malachi. I'll be rooting for you."
Before Malachi could respond, Joe's body began to glow faintly, shimmering like sunlight reflecting off water. Little by little, his form dissolved into particles of light, which scattered into the air like glitter.
Malachi stood there, stunned, watching the last of Joe's essence fade away. "That's new," he muttered.
---
Taking a deep breath, Malachi turned toward the Adventurers' Guild. Its heavy oak doors stood wide open, inviting him into a world of challenges and possibilities. He adjusted the sword at his hip, squaring his shoulders.
"Alright, let's see what this world has to offer," he said, striding forward.