The next morning, Clark found himself sitting on the steps of the blacksmith's shop, polishing a newly forged hoe under Garrek's watchful eye. It had become routine—work hard, keep his head down, and gather bits and pieces of information about this strange world.
But today was different. Today, Garrek talked.
"You're not from around here," the smith said, as he hammered a glowing rod of iron on his anvil. It wasn't a question.
Clark hesitated, then shrugged. "What gave it away?"
"The way you look at things," Garrek replied. "Like a man seeing them for the first time. And the way you fought those bandits—not bad, but not trained either. You're an outsider, alright."
Clark sighed, wiping sweat from his brow. "Yeah. I'm still figuring things out."
"Well, you'd better start learning faster," Garrek said, setting the hammer down. "The Wylderwood may seem like the edge of the world, but it's not. Trouble's brewing out there, and sooner or later, it'll come knocking again."
Clark frowned. "What kind of trouble?"
Garrek leaned on the anvil, his expression grim. "Wars, alliances, and worse—magic. The kingdoms are always stirring, always looking for an excuse to fight. And with the academies churning out new mages and scholars every year, there's no shortage of ambition to fuel the flames."
Clark blinked. "Academies?"
The smith grunted. "You really don't know anything, do you? There are five major academies across the continent, each training the next generation of leaders, warriors, and spellcasters. They're where you go if you want to rise above your station. Or where kingdoms send their prodigies to get even more dangerous."
"Magic is real, then," Clark said, trying to keep the disbelief out of his voice.
"Real enough to burn this village to the ground if you get on the wrong side of a mage," Garrek said darkly. "The closest one is the Aetherium Academy—a place for those who study magic in its purest forms. Elemental manipulation, enchantments, summoning… you name it. They say their Archmages can turn day into night and summon storms at will."
Clark swallowed. That sounded like something even he might struggle with at full strength.
"But that's not all," Garrek continued. "The Academy of Steel and Stone—that's where you'll find the knights and warlords. They train in both weapons and magic, combining brute force with spells strong enough to shatter walls. Then there's the Sable Spire—scholars, alchemists, and researchers who experiment with magic and technology."
Clark's ears perked up. "Technology?"
"Aye," Garrek said. "Machines, constructs, and tools that use magic as fuel. It's dangerous stuff, but it's changing the way wars are fought."
Clark's mind raced. Magic-powered technology? Academies filled with mages and warriors? He had fallen into a world far more advanced—and dangerous—than he had realized.
"What about the other two academies?" he asked.
"The Verdant Sanctum focuses on healing, nature magic, and beast taming," Garrek said. "Some say they can even speak to the spirits of the forest. And then there's the Shadow Veil—a place for assassins, spies, and people who deal in secrets. No one really talks about them, but they're always watching."
Clark leaned back, letting the information sink in. Five academies, each specializing in a different discipline. It reminded him of schools back home, but with far more lethal curriculums.
"And the kingdoms?" he asked.
Garrek scratched his beard. "The big ones are Solara, the kingdom of light and order, and Duskmere, its rival to the north, where shadows and blood magic run deep. They've been enemies for centuries. Then there's Varrendor, the merchant empire, rich but corrupt, and Thalindor, the warrior nation that supplies half the continent's mercenaries. And don't forget the Wilder Tribes—barbarians who live beyond the mountains."
Clark exhaled slowly. "Sounds complicated."
"Complicated doesn't cover it," Garrek said, handing him the polished hoe. "But if you're planning to survive here, you'll need to understand it."
…..
Later that afternoon, Clark wandered through the village, his mind spinning with everything he had learned. The world wasn't just full of magic—it was shaped by it. And the academies sounded like the kind of places where power and ambition collided.
As he walked past the tavern, he spotted Mira leaning against a post, sharpening a curved knife.
"Still here?" she asked without looking up.
"For now," Clark replied. "Trying to learn more about this place."
Mira smirked. "And what did Garrek tell you?"
"Enough to make me think this world is even more dangerous than I thought."
She nodded. "It is. But it's also full of opportunity—if you know where to look."
Clark hesitated. "You mentioned the academies before. Do you know anyone who's been to one?"
Mira's expression darkened. "My brother. He went to the Aetherium Academy. Thought it would make him powerful enough to protect our family."
"What happened?"
"He never came back."
Clark felt a pang of sympathy. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," she said, standing up and sheathing her knife. "Just don't make the same mistake."
Clark watched her walk away, her words lingering in his mind. He didn't plan to join an academy—or at least not yet—but he couldn't ignore the fact that they might hold answers. Answers about magic, technology, and maybe even a way home.
...
That night, Clark lay on his cot, staring at the ceiling. The faint hum of energy from the sunlight he absorbed earlier still lingered, keeping him alert despite the exhaustion of the day.
The system's message echoed in his thoughts.
[Passive Ability: Solar Absorption]
[Next Unlock: ???]
He had a long way to go, but his strength was returning. Bit by bit.
"Alright," Clark said softly, clenching his fist. "Let's see where this world takes me."
Outside, the moon hung high in the sky, but Clark barely noticed. His eyes were already focused on the horizon—and the challenges waiting beyond it.