The villagers gathered around me, their faces a mixture of awe and disbelief. In the distance, the fires were dying, leaving behind a village blanketed in an unsettling quiet. My arms trembled from the battle's strain, the weight of the twin swords still fresh in my mind, though they had vanished the moment victory was secured.
From the murmuring crowd, an older man stepped forward, his gait slow but purposeful. He wore a robe that, though frayed, spoke of a certain dignity. His long beard, streaked with gray, swayed in the soft breeze, and his piercing eyes studied me with the scrutiny of someone who had seen much and trusted little. At his silent command, the villagers parted to allow him passage.
"Young man," he said, his voice steady and authoritative. "Who are you? And how did you manage to defeat those monsters?"
For a moment, I hesitated, uncertain of how much to reveal. But as I stood amidst the aftermath, the smoldering remains of the battle behind me, I realized that concealing the truth served no purpose. I had crossed a threshold. I wasn't just Ethan from Earth anymore.
"My name is Ethan," I said, lifting my chin as I spoke. My voice was firm, unyielding. "I'm not from this world. I was brought here to protect humanity. The power you saw—it's something I've been given to fight the darkness that threatens your lives."
The elder's sharp eyes narrowed slightly, though his expression was less skeptical than it was contemplative. He stroked his beard, considering my words.
"Not of this world," he murmured, almost to himself. "And yet, you wielded such power with remarkable precision. You saved us from annihilation when no one else could. Tell me, Ethan—have you faced such battles before?"
I allowed a faint smile to touch my lips. "Not quite," I admitted. "But I've spent my life studying heroes—legends of warriors, strategies of combat, stories of overcoming the impossible. They fascinated me. And, in a way, prepared me. I may not have experience in a fight like this, but I learn quickly. I observe, I adapt, and I act."
The elder's stern expression softened as he nodded. "You are remarkable," he said, his voice carrying the weight of conviction. "It seems the gods have sent you to us at our darkest hour."
A murmur rose among the villagers, some whispering prayers of gratitude, others simply staring at me with wide-eyed hope. The elder raised a hand, and the murmurs ceased.
"Ethan," he said, his tone measured, "your arrival is no coincidence. A great darkness is spreading through the land, and it seems fate has chosen you to stand against it. Come with me. You've done much for us today, and you deserve a chance to rest."
He turned and beckoned for me to follow. As we walked through the crowd, the villagers stepped aside, some bowing their heads in gratitude. Though pride swelled in me, I kept my composure, nodding to them in quiet acknowledgment.
The elder led me to a modest guest house at the village's center. Its simplicity was offset by its warmth—a small hearth crackled invitingly, and the scent of roasted meat and freshly baked bread filled the air. My stomach growled, a sharp reminder of the toll the battle had taken.
"Please," the elder said, gesturing to a table laden with food. "Sit and eat. You must regain your strength."
I needed no further prompting. As I took a seat, a young woman brought a plate to me—a generous portion of meat, vegetables, and bread. I nodded my thanks and began eating. The meal was simple but hearty, each bite restoring a little of the energy I had lost.
As I ate, the elder sat across from me, his gaze steady, scrutinizing. After a moment, he broke the silence, his voice low and deliberate.
"Ethan, the power you wield is unlike anything I've ever witnessed," he said. "No human has ever possessed such abilities. But you must understand—this world is cruel to those like us. Weaklings without magic have no place here. That powerlessness has shaped our fate."
I paused mid-bite, meeting his eyes. In them, I saw not just pain, but a glimmer of hope—something my presence had ignited.
"Long ago," the elder continued, his tone tinged with sorrow, "humans thrived. We had no magic, but we lived peacefully, content with what we built through hard work. For a time, our kingdoms flourished. But peace is fragile. The other races—elves, dwarves, beastfolk, and the monsters—looked upon us with disdain. To them, we were weaklings unworthy of our prosperity."
He sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging under the weight of memory. "A hundred years ago, they united and attacked. They burned our kingdom, slaughtered our people, and enslaved the survivors. Our king and queen vanished in the chaos, and with them, humanity's last hope of unity. Those of us who survived scattered to the farthest corners of the land, clinging to what little life we could find."
His hand gestured broadly to the modest room around us. "This village is one such corner—a haven for humans. But even here, we are hunted, treated as vermin by the world's stronger races sending monsters to us."
A heavy silence settled between us. I set down my fork, the weight of his words sinking deep into my chest.
"But then you came," the elder said, his voice softening. "You stood against monsters that would have crushed us. You've given these people something they thought they had lost forever: hope."
I leaned back, his words settling heavily on me. This wasn't just about surviving another day. These people had been broken, stripped of their pride, their safety, their very identity.
"I understand," I said, my voice steady. "The world sees you as weak, but that doesn't make you so. If the other races think they can treat humans like this, then it's time someone proved them wrong."
The elder's eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, his expression was unreadable.
"I may not know everything about this world," I continued, "but I know what it means to fight for something worth protecting. If I have the power to make a difference, I'll use it—not just for this village, but for humanity as a whole."
The elder regarded me in silence before nodding, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Perhaps you truly are the one we've been waiting for. Rest now, Ethan. Tomorrow, we'll plan your next steps."
As he left, I stared at the table, my thoughts racing. This world had torn humanity apart, leaving it broken and scattered. But if this was my purpose, I would embrace it. I wouldn't just survive in this world—I would help rebuild it.
But first, I thought as exhaustion settled over me, I need to understand this power.
The bed in the corner beckoned, and I allowed myself to collapse into it, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling. This wasn't my world. But if I was going to make it my fight, I needed to be at my best.
With that, I let sleep claim me, knowing tomorrow would bring new challenges—and, hopefully, new answers.
End of Chapter.