The trio trudged along the dirt path, the eerie silence of the forest pressing in around them. Ryan glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting another pair of glowing red eyes to emerge from the shadows, but all he saw was the endless stretch of trees.
"Relax, newbie," Arya said, her bow resting lazily on her shoulder. "We cleared that pack. The wolves aren't stupid enough to attack again so soon."
"If you say so," Ryan muttered, his hand still gripping the hilt of his rusty sword. His body ached from the earlier fight, and every step reminded him how unprepared he was for this world.
Grent let out a hearty laugh. "She's right, kid. You've got to save your nerves for the real threats. Those wolves were just appetizers."
"Appetizers?" Ryan raised an eyebrow. "What's the main course, then?"
Grent smirked. "You'll see."
The path widened as they emerged from the dense forest, revealing rolling hills dotted with patches of wildflowers. In the distance, Ryan could see a walled town nestled at the base of a mountain. Smoke rose from chimneys, and the faint sound of a bustling market reached his ears.
"That's Dawnstead," Arya said, nodding toward the town. "It's a safe zone—mostly. We can restock, repair gear, and maybe even find you something better than that toothpick you're carrying."
Ryan looked down at his sword and frowned. "Hey, it's not that bad."
Arya rolled her eyes. "It's a miracle it didn't snap in half during the fight. Just be grateful you're not dead."
Grent clapped Ryan on the shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance. "She's got a point, kid. Let's get you geared up properly before you face anything stronger than a rabbit."
As they approached the town gates, Ryan noticed the guards standing watch. Their armor gleamed in the sunlight, and their weapons looked far more impressive than anything he'd seen so far. He couldn't help but feel a pang of envy.
"Halt," one of the guards said, holding up a hand. His eyes scanned the group, lingering on Ryan. "New adventurer?"
"Something like that," Arya said. "He's with us."
The guard nodded and stepped aside. "Welcome to Dawnstead. Keep your weapons sheathed and don't cause any trouble."
The streets of Dawnstead were alive with activity. Merchants called out their wares, adventurers in polished armor bartered for potions and weapons, and children darted through the crowd, laughing. Ryan felt a mix of awe and unease as he took it all in.
"Stay close," Arya said, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. "You'll get lost if you wander off."
Grent grinned. "And lost newbies tend to get scammed. Watch your coin pouch."
Ryan instinctively patted his belt, where a small pouch of coins jingled softly. "Noted."
They stopped in front of a blacksmith's forge, the heat from the blazing furnace making Ryan sweat. A muscular man with a soot-covered apron looked up from his work, his eyes narrowing as he appraised the group.
"Arya. Grent. Back already?" the blacksmith said, his voice a low rumble.
"We picked up a stray," Arya said, jerking her thumb at Ryan. "He needs a real weapon."
The blacksmith's gaze shifted to Ryan, and he let out a chuckle. "That twig you're holding won't do you much good, lad. Let's see what we can find."
He led them to a rack of weapons, each one gleaming with deadly precision. Swords, axes, daggers, and even a few exotic weapons Ryan didn't recognize lined the display.
"Pick one," the blacksmith said. "And don't just go for what looks cool. You need something that suits you."
Ryan hesitated, his eyes darting between the weapons. A sleek longsword caught his attention, its blade etched with faint runes. He reached for it, but the blacksmith shook his head.
"Not that one. It's enchanted, and you don't have the coin or the skill for it yet."
"Oh," Ryan said, pulling his hand back. His gaze shifted to a simpler weapon—a sturdy short sword with a leather-wrapped hilt. It wasn't flashy, but it looked reliable.
"Good choice," the blacksmith said, handing it to him. "That'll serve you well until you're ready for something better."
Ryan gripped the sword, testing its weight. It felt balanced, and the leather hilt fit comfortably in his hand. "Thanks."
"Don't thank me yet," the blacksmith said, a faint grin on his face. "You've still got to learn how to use it."
With his new sword in hand, Ryan followed Arya and Grent to a nearby tavern. The air inside was thick with the smell of ale and roasted meat. Adventurers crowded the tables, sharing stories of their exploits and clinking mugs together.
Arya found an empty table near the corner, and they sat down. A barmaid approached, setting down three mugs of frothy ale without a word.
"So, what's the plan?" Ryan asked, taking a cautious sip of the drink. It was bitter, but not unpleasant.
"First, we rest," Arya said. "You're no good to us half-dead. Then, we'll look for work. There's always a bounty board in towns like this."
"Bounties mean coin," Grent added, raising his mug. "And coin means better gear. Welcome to the adventurer's life, kid."
Ryan nodded, a small smile forming on his face. For the first time since waking up in this world, he felt a glimmer of hope. He wasn't alone anymore. He had allies, a goal, and a shiny new sword.
The journey was just beginning.