Scroll 02: In-Game Name
His lungs were burning. Every breath of that strangely pure air felt like liquid fire in his throat. Joseph ran desperately through colossal trees. They resembled Earth's pines, but their needles carried a rather bizarre, bluish hue. Behind him, the high-pitched screeches and rushing footsteps of his pursuers made it clear that he had no room to breathe.
But as he dodged the roots, a strange sensation began to seep into the midst of his panic. Every time he pushed off his legs to leap over the treacherous terrain, his strides felt abnormally long. It was as if his own body possessed a lightness and an elastic power he had never known in his ordinary life. Suddenly, his city boots, designed for asphalt, slipped as he stepped on a thick root covered in emerald moss.
"No, no, no!" he gasped, feeling his balance abandon him entirely.
He managed to stabilize himself by pure instinct, slamming a hand against the rough bark of a tree. As he did, the forest wind whipped the side of his head in an unprecedented way. The air whistled strangely, filtering through and brushing with sharp sensitivity against what felt like two elongated points at the sides of his face. The sound of the wind up there felt different, distorted.
Before he could process it, a sharp, vibrating hiss passed millimeters from his left temple.
Clack!
A chipped, heavy metal knife buried itself deeply into the wood. If he hadn't stumbled a split second earlier, his skull would now be a bloody ornament for that tree.
Panic forced him to spin around. Barely a few yards away, three small monsters with green skin and sharp faces bounded toward him, their rows of rotting teeth exposed in grotesque grins. Goblins. Joseph closed his eyes, bracing for the impact.
Suddenly, three almost imperceptible hisses cut through the air, and a sudden silver flash sliced through the gloom. The monsters fell face-first into the moss, completely motionless. Right at that exact instant, a firm, surprisingly strong hand gripped his arm, pulling him with miraculous violence.
"Move if you want to live," a soft but commanding voice whispered beside him.
Without giving him time to react, his savior dragged him through the thicket, pulling him away from the danger zone at breakneck speed.
They walked for what felt like hours through that seemingly endless forest. Joseph's legs ached, but adrenaline and curiosity kept him moving. He stole glances at the girl; her skin seemed to radiate a light of its own, she wore a reinforced leather jerkin, a longbow slung over her shoulder, and long, pointed ears that left him speechless. An elf. But he decided to keep quiet so as not to be rude.
"Where... where exactly are we?" Joseph asked, breaking the silence as they tried to maintain a brisk pace.
She didn't stop her stride, scanning the surroundings with deep, electric-blue eyes.
"We are on the outskirts of the human city of Sibar," she replied in a low, steady voice. "It's the capital of Duke Varls' territory. So..."
Before finishing her sentence, with a fluid motion that seemed to Joseph like a mere blink, the elf raised her bow, nocked an arrow with astonishing speed, and aimed directly into the dense brush ahead.
Swoosh!
The bowstring vibrated. A faint, muffled groan echoed a few yards away amidst the bushes, followed by the dull thud of a body hitting the ground. She lowered her weapon without her expression shifting a single millimeter.
"It's better to stay quiet to avoid drawing attention," she concluded in a whisper, resuming her pace.
Joseph swallowed hard and nodded, keeping his questions to himself.
Finally, the trees began to thin out until they reached an elevated meadow. From there, the world opened before his eyes. Below rose an impressive city, protected by white stone walls and towers that gleamed under the sun. There were no cables, no pollution, no skyscrapers. Just ancient, majestic architecture.
"I forgot to introduce myself," the girl said as they walked down toward the road. "My name is Arya."
The young man paused for a second. Joseph, he was about to say. But the word caught in his throat. Joseph was the name of the drab office worker who drank cold coffee while staring at a cracked screen; it was the name of the pathetic guy who dragged his feet across asphalt and felt completely invisible every single day. If this truly was a fantasy world—a blank canvas—he didn't want to carry that chain with him. He needed a name that actually fit him well.
A torrent of memories from his youth rushed over him all at once. He thought of the endless nights spent in front of the monitor, those weekends where time didn't exist. He remembered the online role-playing games, the only era of his life where he had actually felt alive. He recalled the pure adrenaline of joining his teammates in voice chat, coordinating strikes to clear dark dungeons and conquer impossible bosses. Back then, he wasn't invisible.
He evoked the nicknames he used to use. TheEnd, which was almost always taken on new servers, forcing him to discard it; or Radamanthys, a secondary alias he threw on from time to time. But no, those weren't his true identity. There was one specific username. A name he had grown so fond of over the years that it already felt like his own, an extension of his soul. Whenever he logged into a massive server and it unluckily happened to be occupied, he preferred to switch channels or append a number to the end rather than renounce it. But here, in this real and tangible world, there would be no system telling him the username already existed. No one had stolen it from him.
"My name is Alaster," he replied, puffing out his chest for the first time in years.
Arya caught his eye, softening her facial expressions slightly.
"That's a good name," she said with a tiny, subtle smile.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Arya," he responded, trying to employ his best urban etiquette manners.
The elf visibly tensed up, arching an eyebrow with evident discomfort.
"There is no need for such formality," she countered, her tone a bit drier but oddly kind.
Joseph caught the hint instantly. It gave him the distinct impression that the elf absolutely despised rigid treatment and courtly bowing.
"As you wish. Then I'll just call you Arya," he smiled.
She returned a broader, visibly more relaxed smile, and they continued their descent toward the massive city gate.
As they approached the main entrance, the atmosphere turned tense. The banners atop the wall fluttered in the wind, showcasing the imposing coat of arms of a tiger stitched in golden threads. Right before they could cross, a city guard planted himself firmly in front of them, blocking their path. He wore a full suit of gleaming plate armor that reflected the sunlight, with the exact same tiger emblem neatly engraved on the breastplate. He wore no helmet, revealing a stern face weathered by battle.
"Identification," the guard demanded in a thundering voice, staring them down.
Joseph swallowed hard, feeling his heart skip a beat. He had nothing on him except the clothes from his old world and his worn-out boots. The guard narrowed his eyes, pinning a look heavy with suspicion onto his bizarre attire.
Before panic could force him to confess that he came from another dimension, Arya intervened with astonishing naturalness.
"He doesn't have any," the elf said, stepping forward. "It seems he lost it along with everything else when the goblin plague ambushed him in the woods. We were lucky to make it out alive."
The guard snorted, relaxing his posture slightly as he grumbled in annoyance: "Those damn things... They keep getting closer to the main roads." He then locked his eyes onto the elf and added in a calmer tone: "Well then... you already know the protocol for the undocumented."
Arya raised an eyebrow, proving she knew the business perfectly. With a fluid, almost imperceptible motion, she slipped her hand into her small leather pouch, extracted a gleaming silver coin, and extended it to the guard. The exchange was sealed with a firm handshake that concealed the coin in a completely discreet manner.
The guard pocketed the silver without blinking.
"Very well..." he said, stepping aside. "Proceed, everything is cleared. Just don't cause trouble inside."
Upon crossing the threshold, Alaster was left completely breathless. Before him unfolded a burst of medieval life that looked pulled straight out of a high-budget fantasy isekai anime. The cobblestone streets were flooded with vibrant colors and a deafening bustle. To the sides, street stalls brimmed with exotic spices whose aromas drifted through the air, brilliant threaded fabrics, and fruits he had never seen on Earth. The population was a madness of diversity: he watched men with wolf ears and tails carrying crates pass by, massively built warriors with colossal broadswords strapped to their backs, and even carts pulled by bizarre creatures. In the middle of the plaza, a single mage—a white-bearded old man—commanded the attention of a group of children by making small spheres of water float, glowing with a light of their own. Everything was as magical as it was chaotic.
"Let's head to the Guild," Arya urged, suddenly taking him by the hand to guide him through the crowd. "You need an identification card, and they can provide one there."
Hearing that, Joseph planted his feet flat, feeling a sting of terror.
Wait, the Guild? he thought to himself, his mind working at a thousand miles per hour. What if they somehow discover I'm a traveler from another world? What if their registration methods expose my origin? What if they lock me up in an underground dungeon to run experiments on me? I don't want to end up like those guys people talk about on Earth, who get abducted by aliens and have probes shoved into their darkest, most private places... No way!
"Hey, Arya, I don't think that's a good idea..." he attempted to object aloud, pulling back.
However, the elf didn't even flinch. She yanked him by the hand with a strength that was downright monstrous for her slender frame, forcing him forward through the colorful streets.
Eventually, they arrived before a massive, majestic building that dominated the avenue. It featured two large oak doors reinforced with iron. Arya extended a single arm and, with a push that seemed to cost her zero effort, swung a whole leaf of the heavy door open for them to enter.
The interior was a noisy chaos, a perfect hybrid between a massive restaurant and a rustic adventurer bar. The scent of roasted meat and ale filled the venue. Dozens of people crowded the tables, the vast majority dressed in armor and carrying axes, bows, and daggers. In one corner, Alaster noticed the sole exceptions to the steel: a girl dressed in a highly provocative manner, sporting a pointed hat and a tight-fitting outfit that gave her the air of a sensual witch, holding a small wand; and beside her, a guy in a long tunic of fine fabric carrying a large staff topped by an enormous gem that glowed with intermittent flashes.
As they entered, many of the adventurers' gazes locked onto them, evaluating the newcomer. But Arya shot them a glare so frigid and sharp that most preferred to turn around and return immediately to their business.
They directed themselves toward the back, where a long bar of polished wood extended. Behind it worked several girls in identical uniforms: perfectly ironed white shirts and tight black skirts. Joseph's head spun; they looked like office girls from his own world, professional receptionists right in the middle of a medieval environment.
One of the receptionists, who had just freed up, spotted Arya and gave an effusive wave of her hand.
"Hellooo, Arya!" she exclaimed enthusiastically. "Are you here to turn in more ears?"
Midway through her sentence, the woman stopped dead in her tracks upon noticing Joseph. She stared at him intently from head to toe, smiling slightly out of the corner of her mouth with a mischievous expression.
"Ahem, ahem..." the woman coughed immediately, straightening her posture and completely recovering her professional tone.
Without a word, Arya untied a considerably heavy leather pouch from her belt and tossed it onto the bar, causing a dull, wet sound. It was filled with densely packed goblin ears. Right after, she pulled out another, much smaller pouch containing only three ears and left it beside the first.
The receptionist looked at the bags and sighed, feigning deep annoyance.
"You really give me too much work, Arya," she said, crossing her arms. "That's the third time today you've brought in this many ears. You're going to ruin the Guild's budget."
Arya smiled smugly, leaning against the bar.
"You're not paying me out of your own salary, Mila!"
Alaster observed the woman while they bantered. Mila was a beautiful, mature woman, around thirty-six years old, with an excellent and well-maintained figure that filled out the Guild uniform with elegance. She had her brown hair neatly tied back, a fair complexion, and bright hazel eyes overflowing with charisma.
Mila stole a sideways glance at Joseph for a second before leaning in toward the elf.
"So, Arya... who is he?"
"This is Alaster. I helped him out in the woods," Arya replied, glancing at the young man with a half-smile. "He was fleeing from that plague out there."
Mila completely softened her expression and offered Joseph a warm smile.
"I'm glad nothing tragic occurred, Your Excellency Alaster," Mila said with courtly politeness.
Joseph, trying to be polite after the shock of his journey, nodded quickly.
"It's a pleasure to survive and meet you, Miss..."
But before he could finish, Arya interrupted him with a snort, giving him a friendly elbow nudge.
"Excellency my foot! There's no need for such formality with her! Right, Alaster?"
The young man nodded, catching the relaxed vibe between the two.
"Right, no need. Just Alaster is fine."
Mila smiled more deeply, displaying a joy that felt completely genuine and comforting to Joseph. Meanwhile, the receptionist began counting the ears with agility and pulled a pouch filled with coins from beneath the counter, sliding it toward Arya as payment for her hunt.
"Let me guess," Mila said, putting away the bags of ears and resting her elbows on the bar. "You want him to register, right?"
"Exactly. He needs a card," Arya confirmed, pocketing her money.
Mila nodded professionally and set about conducting the registration, placing a transparent crystal orb onto the counter.
"Place your hand here, Alaster."
He did so cautiously, holding his breath out of fear that the device might explode or reveal his thoughts about alien probes. Upon contact, the orb glowed with a clear, serene blue light, indicating he was not a criminal. Joseph exhaled a sigh of relief.
"Now, a drop of blood here," Mila said, pricking his finger with a silver needle.
As the drop fell onto a smaller orb, strange runes began to spin rapidly. Mila placed a blank parchment on the bar, and letters and numbers of black ink began to materialize across the surface. Looking down at the paper, Alaster realized something astounding: somehow, he could read this language as if he had always known it.
Spoiler
[Status] Name: Alaster Race: High Elf Age: Hidden Class: Mage Attribute: Space Level: 1
[Stats] Vitality: 100 Mana: 500 Stamina: 80 Strength: 7 Agility: 7 Resilience: 7 Intelligence: 25
[Passive Spells] Spatial Affinity: Decreases mana consumption and increases efficiency when using space-attribute spells by 90%.
[collapse]
Race: High Elf? he repeated in his mind, his pulse suddenly racing.
Instinctively, he brought his hand to the side of his head. His trembling fingers brushed against a sharp, long, and elegant point that hadn't been there before... or that his own mind had refused to recognize until that exact millisecond due to pure shock and the adrenaline of the escape. A shiver ran down his spine. The wind in the forest! Everything suddenly made a disturbing amount of sense. He wasn't human. Not anymore.
However, he had no time to process his new physiology.
Mila had stopped smiling entirely. The color drained from her face, leaving her pale as a ghost. Her eyes widened with a mix of horror and fascination that bordered on madness as she stared fixedly at the attribute line. Her movements became fast, erratic, and violent from sheer nerves.
Mila reacted abruptly, leaning dangerously over the bar toward Arya and speaking with frantic speed, barely catching her breath: "Take him. Take him right now!"
Before Alaster could even blink, Mila snatched a heavy pouch of gold coins from under the counter along with a piece of polished metal, shoving them desperately against the young man's chest.
"You need to get him out of here, now!" Mila ordered Arya, her voice carrying a terrifying urgency. "Here, this is your provisional guild card. Move before anyone looks at this paper!"
"What? Wait, what's going on? What does this mean?" Alaster asked, terrified, feeling his heart leap into his throat. Panic surged through him as he witnessed the genuine desperation of the two women, but nobody answered him.
Arya, whose face had tensed up completely, losing all her previous warmth, grabbed him firmly by the wrist.
"Walk," she whispered, her voice reduced to a thin thread that admitted no argument.
Despite the internal chaos and panic that threatened to make him scream, they crossed the Guild hall at a casual pace, feigning a facade of absolute normalcy to avoid raising suspicions among the adventurers and guards lingering near the entrance. Alaster felt like he was going to detonate from anxiety; the calm was merely a thin mask of ice threatening to shatter at any second.
The moment they cleared the threshold of the main street and rounded the first shadowy corner, Arya dropped the facade.
She yanked him with surprising strength and broke into a full sprint, dragging him through the labyrinth of cobblestone streets of the city of Sibar. Joseph could barely keep up with his long legs, dodging cargo carts and pedestrians who watched them blur past, until they finally slipped into a secluded, dark alleyway entirely hidden from prying eyes.
She stopped dead in her tracks and shoved him gently against the stone wall to keep him concealed in the shadows. Arya checked both sides of the alley entrance frantically to ensure no one had followed them from the Guild.
"Listen to me very carefully, Alaster," Arya said, with an urgency that made his hair stand on end. "Your attribute... spatial magic... it is incredibly rare. The space attribute is the stuff of legends. People know it exists only because of ancient books and grimoires. Using magic without actually having the attribute by birth is next to impossible. You have no idea what this truly means."
Alaster swallowed hard, his back pressed against the cold stone, feeling his pulse hammering in his ears.
"Legends? But, are my stats bad? Seven seems like a pretty low and pathetic number..."
"Your physical stats don't matter in the slightest right now!" Arya cut him off, grabbing his shoulder with a force that almost hurt. "Don't you understand? An affinity with Space is legendary. There hasn't been a spatial mage in this kingdom for generations. If word gets out, you will have every noble, every organization, and every king on the continent trying to hunt you down."
"H... hunt me? But why? I haven't done anything wrong! I just got here!"
"Because the space attribute is too powerful," Arya replied, not releasing her grip on his shoulder even a millimeter, locking her electric-blue eyes into his. "You are a living strategic resource. They will want to possess you. They will want to use you as an ultimate military tool. Imagine being able to move entire armies or infinite supplies across impossible distances in the blink of an eye. Or for the mass transit of smuggled goods to bypass customs. You would be the most valuable and coveted slave to any empire or criminal organization."
Joseph—or rather, Alaster—felt the ground turn unstable beneath his boots. The initial panic transformed into a deep and bitter certainty.
If I were back on Earth, at least the police could help... or I could report them, he thought bitterly, recalling the laws of his old world. The law would protect me somehow. There would be rights, lawyers, a system. But here... there are no damn laws to protect me from people with that kind of power.
"What... what exactly would they do to me if I get caught?" he managed to ask, his face growing increasingly pale, visualizing the worst-case scenario.
Arya looked at him with icy seriousness and completed the terrifying prospect: "To ensure you never even attempt to escape or use your power against them, the first thing they will do is cast a high-level slave curse on you. One that breaks your will completely, erasing your identity so you can never disobey or flee ever again. Your mind would no longer be your own."