Chapter 2: A Wild Protag-Kun has Appeared?!

The fall was an endless plummet, a violent expulsion from reality. The air screamed past Riley’s ears, a roaring torrent that stole his breath and clarity. He was falling through a sky that bled from twilight purple into an angry, bruised red, then a sickly green. Below, the world rushed up, a dizzying blur of impossible landscapes. His stomach churned, a visceral protest against the freefall. One moment, the familiar registrar's office; the next, this dizzying descent into an unknown, terrifying void.

"No! No, no, no!" Riley screamed, his voice swallowed by the wind. He flailed, arms and legs thrashing uselessly against the impossible current. "This isn't happening! This can't be happening!"

Panic, cold and sharp, threatened to consume him. Angela. That wasn’t Angela. Not the Angela he knew, the one who existed only in fragments and bittersweet memories. This one, with the cold eyes and the unsettling smile, had torn his world apart with a casual, almost affectionate cruelty.

"What did you do?!" he shrieked into the void, his lungs burning. His vision swam, the kaleidoscopic sky blurring into streaks of impossible color. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the dizzying rush, but the sensation of falling persisted, a relentless, sickening lurch. "This has to be a dream. A nightmare. Just wake up, Riley, wake up!"

His thoughts were a frantic scramble, useless in the face of the impossible. Then, through the whirlwind of colors and terror, a massive, gnarled silhouette emerged from the swirling chaos below. A tree. Not just any tree, but a monstrous titan, its branches thick as ancient fortresses, its leaves a swirling emerald canopy against the lurid sky.

Instinct, raw and undeniable, surged through him. He wouldn't hit the ground like a stone. He wouldn't give her that. Gritting his teeth, Riley arched his body, straining every muscle, trying to steer his uncontrolled descent toward the colossal branches. The wind fought him, ripping at his clothes, but he pushed, a desperate, defiant act against the impossible. "Come on, come on!" he grunted, forcing his body into an awkward dive. He closed his eyes, bracing for impact.

A jarring CRACK ripped through the air, followed by a series of agonizing scrapes and thuds. Riley’s world spun into a dizzying kaleidoscope of green and brown before slamming to a halt. He lay tangled in a mess of thick, surprisingly soft leaves and pliable branches, several feet off what appeared to be the forest floor. Pain flared in his side and shoulder, a sharp, undeniable reminder that this was real. He was alive.

He forced himself to breathe, each inhale a shaky, ragged affair. The throbbing in his limbs slowly brought him back to himself. The terror of the fall receded, replaced by a dawning sense of impossible calm. He was in a tree, clearly not on Earth. The sky above, visible in patches through the dense canopy, shimmered with hues he’d never seen before—deep violets, electric blues, and streaks of unsettling yellow. The air smelled of damp earth and something else, something sweet and alien, like ozone mixed with wildflowers.

"Okay," he gasped, pushing himself up, wincing. "Okay, Riley, you're alive. Bruised, but alive." He ran a tentative hand over his ribs. "Definitely going to have some impressive bruises. And probably a concussion." He tested his weight. Nothing seemed broken, just a myriad of aches and bruises. He dropped to the ground, landing softly on a carpet of moss and fallen leaves. Around him, the forest was alive with soft, unfamiliar chirps and rustles. Giant, glowing fungi pulsed with a faint luminescence, casting an ethereal glow on the colossal tree trunks that stretched endlessly upwards.

***

He ran a hand through his hair, still trying to make sense of it all. Angela. Or rather, the entity that wore her face. The one who had pulled him into this impossible reality. Her words echoed in his mind, clear as if she stood beside him: ‘Finally meeting you properly.’ ‘We have so many possibilities to explore.’

A shiver traced its way down his spine, but it wasn't entirely from fear. It was a cold, calculating curiosity. "Who are you?" he whispered to the empty air, the question a desperate plea for understanding. "What do you want with me? And what is this place?" He looked down at his empty wrist, where the slap bracelet had been. It was gone, lost to the void. A strange twist of fate, considering it had been his last connection to the Angela of his memories.

He was in an entirely new place, completely alone. His university life, his statistics problems, his quiet, ordered existence—all of it shattered. But as he looked around at the alien beauty of the forest, a new kind of resolve solidified within him. This wasn't a dream. This was a challenge. And he had a lot of questions that needed answers.

Riley stood amidst the glowing fungi and colossal trees, the silence of the alien forest broken only by the chirps and rustles of unseen creatures. His body ached, a symphony of bruises and protesting muscles, but his mind, surprisingly, felt sharper than it had in days. The terror of the fall had given way to a strange, almost exhilarating clarity. He was here, wherever 'here' was, and screaming into the void wouldn't change that.

He pushed aside a curtain of bioluminescent vines, revealing a breathtaking sight. In the distance, cutting through the hazy, multi-hued sky, stood a structure of impossible beauty. It was a castle, shimmering with an internal light, its spires and walls crafted from what looked like pure, colossal crystals. It pulsed with a soft, inviting glow, a beacon in this surreal landscape. By his estimation, it looked at least a week's walk away.

A crystal castle. In a world where gravity could flip and the sky bled impossible colors. It was absurd, yet undeniably real.

"Okay, Riley," he muttered to himself, his voice a low, rough murmur in the vast quiet. "You've survived falling from a sky that probably doesn't exist, and you're surrounded by glowing mushrooms. A crystal castle suddenly seems like the most logical thing around."

He could try to retrace his steps, but back to where? The school, Earth? It felt like a lifetime ago, a distant memory that dissolved with every new, bizarre detail of this world. And even if he could, what awaited him there? The false Angela, clearly a being of immense and unsettling power, who had seemingly chosen him for some unknown game.

His gaze swept back to the crystal castle, a faint magnetism pulling him towards it. It was the only landmark, the only sign of… anything familiar, in a way. A structure, a destination. As he looked closer, he noticed a ribbon of shimmering blue cutting through the forest floor, a river glinting under the alien light. It seemed to flow directly towards the castle.

"Right," he decided, a new purpose settling in his chest. "No point in waiting for answers to float down from the weird sky. If there's a castle, there might be people."

He took a deep breath, the sweet, earthy air filling his lungs. His body still screamed in protest, but the sharp tang of adrenaline pushed past the pain. He straightened his shoulders, favoring his bruised side. "A river trail to a crystal castle it is. Sounds like a fantasy novel, which, at this point, feels about right."

***

Walking for what felt like hours, the alien forest stretching endlessly around him. The colossal trees formed a canopy that filtered the bizarre sky into shifting patterns of violet, blue, and yellow light. The glowing fungi pulsed softly, illuminating his path along the crystal-clear river. The initial shock of his arrival was slowly giving way to a gnawing hunger and a growing weariness. He kept his eyes on the distant, shimmering castle, clinging to it as his only anchor in this surreal reality.

He was about to cross a small, moss-covered clearing when a strange series of shouts cut through the forest's gentle hum.

"Fireball! Explooosion!"

Riley froze, dropping into a crouch. Was it a creature? Another victim of Angela's game?

"Thunderbolt! Strike down my enemies!"

A human voice. Definitely human. Riley peered through the glowing foliage. In the center of the clearing, a man, who appeared to be in his early thirties, was flailing his arms dramatically. He was wearing what looked like regular clothes—jeans and a t-shirt, albeit a somewhat dishevelled one—and was frantically yelling at a bewildered-looking cluster of luminous, mushroom-like plants.

"Ice Spear! Freeze them in their tracks, ha!"

Nothing happened. No fire, no lightning, no ice. Just the man, looking increasingly frustrated as the glowing fungi remained stubbornly un-flamed, un-shocked, and un-frozen.

Curiosity overriding caution, Riley stepped out from behind the glowing leaves. "Excuse me?" he called out, his voice sounding oddly loud in the quiet clearing. "What are you doing?"

The man yelped, spinning around as if struck by an invisible force. His eyes, wide with alarm, darted to Riley, then to his surroundings, as if expecting a sudden ambush. "W-who goes there?! Are you... are you a minion of the Demon Lord?!" he stammered, striking a clumsy, defensive pose.

Riley blinked. "No, I'm just... lost. What are you doing? You were yelling about fireballs?"

The man straightened, puffing out his chest, though a faint blush crept onto his cheeks. "Ah, a fellow inhabitant of this world!" he declared, his voice regaining some theatricality. "Fret not, citizen! For I am Protag-kun, the chosen hero summoned to this fantastical realm to defeat the ultimate evil and restore peace!" He gestured grandly, nearly tripping over his own feet. "My powers, alas, have yet to fully manifest, but soon I shall unleash devastating magic upon those who oppose me!"

Riley's eyebrows shot up. "Protag-kun?" he repeated slowly, a flicker of recognition passing through his mind. The man's dramatic pronouncements, the 'Demon Lord,' the 'summoned hero'—it all sounded like something straight out of an isekai anime, a genre Riley was vaguely familiar with. He'd watched a few with his friends. But this guy... this was a whole new level of dedication. Or delusion.

"Yes, Protag-kun!" the man affirmed, nodding vigorously. "It is my destiny! I was whisked away from my humble abode—my NEET cave, as some might call it—and brought here to fulfill this sacred quest!" He then leaned in conspiratorially. "You see, I have extensively studied the lore of parallel worlds, the mechanics of skill trees, and the dynamics of harem building! My vast knowledge of light novels and manga will be my ultimate weapon!"

Riley just stared. NEET? Non-existent experience, utterly obsessed with fictional worlds, screaming attack names that did nothing. This guy was a walking, talking anime trope, a shut-in convinced he was the hero of a video game. But the problem was, Riley was clearly in a world where nothing made sense anymore. Could a self-proclaimed 'Protag-kun' actually be... right? Was this an isekai? Was he also 'isekai-ed'?

A sudden, uncomfortable thought struck him. "Wait," Riley interjected, a small, embarrassed laugh escaping him. "Is... is 'Protag-kun' actually your name?"

The man's confident theatricality crumbled. His face flushed a deep crimson, and he hunched his shoulders. "N-no! Of course not! That's... that's just a placeholder! For my destiny!" He stammered, looking away. "It's what the... the protagonist in these situations is often called before their true, legendary name is revealed!" He then looked back at Riley, his eyes widening. "Wait... were you also... isekai-ed?"

The realization dawned on Protag-kun's face as he registered Riley's normal clothes and bewildered expression. The embarrassment of his outburst, combined with the shock of encountering another human from Earth in this impossible world, made him practically vibrate with nervous energy.

***

Protag-kun’s face, already flushed with embarrassment, morphed into one of acute indignation. “What?! Another one?!” he shrieked, throwing his hands up in despair. “This is outrageous! How can I be the destined hero when there are other protagonists running around?! And worse yet,” he wailed, his voice cracking with perceived injustice, “where’s my OP cheat?! My harem?! My intuitive leveling system? All those light novels promised! It’s completely unfair!”

He began to pace frantically around the clearing, kicking at a glowing mushroom with a frustrated grunt. “I’ve been here for days! Days, I tell you! Living in this… this wilderness, surviving on nothing but nuts and berries, trying to manifest my ultimate magic!” He gestured wildly at the unblemished fungi. “And what do I have to show for it? Nothing! Not a single fireball! Not even a measly heal spell! I’m just… me! This is not how an isekai protagonist is supposed to operate!” He slumped to the ground, a picture of utter dejection. “This is so depressing. I don’t even have a status screen to confirm my existence as a hero.”

Riley watched him, a strange mix of pity and exasperation bubbling up. The man was clearly unhinged, but also genuinely distressed. And the 'living on nuts and berries for days' part explained a lot about his current state.

"Wait, you've been here for days?" Riley asked, kneeling slightly. "In this forest? And you've just been... trying to yell at plants?"

Protag-kun nodded miserably. “It’s part of the grindset! To unlock my inherent abilities! But nothing! It’s like the universe forgot to give me my starter pack!”

“Hey, I have a question. So I hear that you call yourself ‘Protag-kun’. I’m assuming that you’re Japanese,” Riley wondered.

He then looked up at Riley, a new thought flickering in his eyes. “You know,” he began, a sudden, almost manic energy returning to him, “it’s a miracle we can even communicate! I’ve only been speaking Japanese, and you… you are speaking English, right?”

Riley nodded slowly. "Yeah, I am."

"Precisely!" Protag-kun exclaimed, scrambling to his feet, a triumphant, if slightly unhinged, grin spreading across his face. “This must be it! The universal translation magic! It’s subtle, but it’s proof! This world is magical! It’s just… a delayed manifestation for my unique skill!” He began to pump his fists excitedly. “This means we’re both chosen! Perhaps you are my destined party member! We can form a powerful duo!”

His grand pronouncements, however, were suddenly cut short by a loud, rumbling growl from his stomach. Protag-kun froze, his triumphant expression deflating instantly. He clutched his midsection, his shoulders slumping.

“Or,” he mumbled, his voice much quieter, devoid of its previous theatricality, “it means I’m just really, really hungry.” He cast a wistful glance at the untouched berries he’d previously been attempting to immolate.