Kaunis Village

Jesse

Evren’s purple eyes hold mine, wavering between fear, surprise, and joy. I give her a small smile before reaching up to unlatch the hatch. A rush of air carries with it the sharp tang of burnt propellant - harsh to most, but oddly comforting to me.

The sun spills down as I raise my seat and take in the scene. The villagers are frozen, stunned into silence by the cannon’s thunderclap. Forgot to warn them about the noise. Whoops. At least I warned Evren.

They begin to stir, gazes locked on the hulking corpse of the tortoise downrange. Their expressions are portraits of disbelief - like people watching their executioner fall dead at the gallows. They weren’t expecting to survive. They weren’t expecting any of us to survive.

But slowly, their attention shifts from the carcass to the tank, and then to me, half-emerged from the hatch. I give a sheepish little wave, not sure how to address dozens of wide, wary eyes.

To my surprise, grins break across their faces. A cheer erupts, ragged at first, then swelling into joyous shouts. Some villagers clutch each other, some dance, some laugh with the relief of the condemned reprieved. I blink in disbelief. I was bracing for stones - now they’re celebrating.

Beside me, a metallic clang rings out as Evren’s hatch swings open. She pokes her head up, her face just as stunned as mine. The cheering falters when the villagers notice her - stranger, outsider - but a moment later it redoubles, as though her presence seals their victory. Down the hill, a group sprints to the still-smoking shell casing. They lift it high like a war trophy, roaring.

The two men from earlier appear at the base of the tank, grinning so broadly I half-expect their cheeks to split.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” one of them cries. “Please, come back to our village! We’ll throw a feast in your honour!”

I hesitate. A feast? Doesn’t sound like my idea of rest. I glance back at Evren. She’s still recovering from her shock, but she gives a little shrug. Might as well. I turn back to the men and nod.

“Alright.”

Their grins somehow widen. Movement down the hill catches my eye - villagers running toward the tortoise. One of them looks back.

“We’ll send help! Do what you can until it arrives!” someone shouts. The shorter man gestures us forward eagerly.

“Come, come. You must be exhausted. Let us host you.”

I exchange another look with Evren before twisting the left control stick. The tank groans, tracks clattering as it pivots on the spot. But before I can roll forward, a group of villagers rushes up, led by a woman with flushed cheeks and shining eyes.

“Um… can we ride it?” she asks breathlessly.

I hesitate, then nod. Their cheer rises again as they swarm up the sides, clambering onto the armor and claiming perches wherever they can. I quickly disable the weapons - just in case - while a few bold ones wedge themselves behind me and Evren, clutching the breech for balance as they laugh and chatter.

I shrug at Evren. She only stares at me, bewildered.

I ease the throttle forward. The tank lurches, metal growling, and the villagers shriek with delight, clinging on as the machine clatters down the hill toward their home.

The journey back takes longer than it did to get there, but that’s out of my control. The villagers skip alongside the tank, dancing, shouting, and singing, while those riding atop her drum a steady rhythm on the steel shell. The sound echoes across the hills like a heartbeat. One woman clambers onto the breech with the help of her friends and straddles it like a horse. Soon another joins her, both of them waving and shouting as the village comes into view.

Ahead, two villagers sprint to spread the news. By the time we arrive, people are pouring out from their homes, pulled by curiosity and the word already rushing through the streets. It only takes one word for them to erupt into celebration: victory.

The entire population floods around the tank. I slow to a crawl as a sea of color surges in every direction, people dancing, cheering, and reaching to touch the steel. For the first time, they don’t stare in fear - they look in awe. Gratitude. Joy.

I’ve never experienced anything like it, not even parades back on Earth. Those were always behind barriers, soldiers on either side to keep the crowds away. Here, there are no walls, no rules. Children dart dangerously close to the grinding tracks, and my heart pounds harder than when we fought the tortoise. Someone suddenly leans in and kisses my cheek. I whip my head around just in time to see a knot of teenage girls vanish into the crowd, giggling. Heat rushes to my face. Instinctively I glance toward Evren, but she’s already ducked back inside the hatch.

The tank becomes buried beneath people. I shout for them to move aside, but they can’t hear me over their own noise. Finally, frustrated, I drop the seat and slam the hatch closed. I meet Evren’s eyes through the dim glow of the instruments, grimacing. She shakes her head.

The cameras can’t see the smallest children hidden below the lower plate. I pretend they’re not there, telling myself they’re all safe, but the knot in my stomach stays.

At last we rumble into the village center. Wooden tables are already being dragged out, clattering across the square. According to the onboard clock, it’s barely ten in the morning, yet it feels like evening with the celebrations roaring. I bring the tank to a halt, glance at the fuel gauge: twenty-one percent.

A thought strikes me. I engage the parking brake, flick the gear to NEUTRAL. Evren notices immediately.

“What’re you doing?”

I grin. “Petrol burn.”

I shove the left control stick forward. The valves snap open, the pumps roar to life, and the engine floods with fuel. The tank shakes as the V8 screams past redline. Inside, it’s a deafening, metallic howl. Outside, it must sound like a jet engine tearing the sky in half.

The crowd scatters in alarm, scrambling away from the sudden fury of the machine. Evren watches the camera feeds, realisation dawning. She bursts out laughing.

“Ah, I see now. Excuse my incompetence.”

I let the throttle fall back and finish the shutdown sequence. The air outside is thick with fumes, the tank steaming like an angry beast at rest. We pop the hatches. I clamber out, while Evren sits with her legs dangling, her injured ankle keeping her inside.

Gradually the villagers return, hesitant at first, then smiling once more. I wave at them, trying to calm their nerves. Evren gives me a faint smile, a shrug.

Two men finally fight their way to the front, climbing onto the glacis plate. They kneel on the steel before us, grins etched deep into their faces. The taller one speaks.

“Saviors of our village, we are forever in your debt. My name is Sivan, the head of this village, and this…” He gestures to the smaller man beside him. “...is Roi, my aide.”

I nod. “Thank you.”

Their smiles widen, unshakable, as if they’ve been waiting their whole lives for this moment.

“Will you tell us your names?”

I glance at Evren. She shrugs. I look back at Sivan and Roi. “I’m Jesse. This is Evren.”

The crowd ripples with excitement. Sivan spreads his arms wide to address them all.

“Jesse and Evren! On behalf of everyone gathered here, welcome to Kaunis Village. Please - anything we can do for you, only ask.”

I nod, but Sivan raises his hand again.

“We know you may have places to be, but stay the night. Share our festivities. It is the least we can offer.”

I glance at Evren, but she isn’t looking at me. Her gaze is fixed on something in the crowd. I follow it. A cane juts above the heads, waving as someone pushes forward.

The figure emerges: a middle-aged man, built like a boulder, muscles bulging under his simple clothes. His limp is obvious, the cane striking the ground with each step, but his presence is anything but weakened. He bangs it against the tank’s armor and calls up, voice carrying.

“Are you the ones who slew the Doom Tortoise?”

I nod. For a moment, the celebration hushes beneath the weight of his presence. Then his scowl breaks into a grin.

“Well then - thank you. You saved our hides.”

The tension pops like a bubble. I let out a breath as he extends a hand. I clasp it firmly.

“The name’s Agnar. I’m head of the guild here.”

Guild? My mind stumbles. Before I can ask, he continues.

“Where do you hail from? I’ve never seen anything like you befo-”

He stops. A flicker of recognition flashes across his face, vanishes just as fast. He shakes his head.

“Nah. Doesn’t matter. I just want to know what guild you’re registered with.”

My chest tightens. Guild? The only knowledge I have is from anime, and this isn’t anime - this is real.

“I’m not registered with any guild.”

I glance at Evren. She shakes her head.

Agnar’s grin grows broader. “Well then… how about becoming Kaunis’s first S-rank adventurers? How does that sound?”

S-rank? My mind blanks for a moment. Isn’t that the highest? Like… straight out of an anime highest?

“But… isn’t that the top?”

Agnar nods once, his grin spreading.
“Exactly. Not just anyone can take down a doom tortoise with a single magic attack. In fact, I don’t know anyone who can. And I know a lot of people.”

His words land heavier than I expect. For the first time since waking up here, I really stop to consider how I want to live in this world. Do I want to vanish into obscurity, staying low, unnoticed, hidden away? Or do I want to blaze through like a comet, guns firing, leaving my mark in fire and steel? The choice sticks in my throat - I hate that I can’t decide which feels right. But Agnar’s eyes are on me, the villagers are watching, and I’ve been put on the spot. I have to answer.

“What does it entail?”

Agnar raises his hand and Sivan and Roi haul him onto the tank’s roof. He sits cross-legged, setting his cane between himself and Sivan, his smile never faltering.
“Nothing much. This village is quiet enough.” He lowers his voice. “If I’m being honest, it’s just bragging rights. To say I was the one who discovered you.”

Ah. So that’s what this is really about. A claim of ownership without chains. When we leave, he’ll still be able to boast: those legends came through Kaunis. I wonder if there are other benefits to having adventurers registered, even if they don’t stick around.

I glance at Evren. She leans closer and whispers, barely audible under the cheering:
“I won’t. But you should. It’ll speed things up later.”

I nod. Turning back to Agnar, I square my shoulders.
“Alright. I’ll do it. What do I need to do?”

His grin widens, splitting his face. He claps a massive hand onto my shoulder, nearly knocking the wind out of me.
“That’s what I like to hear! Follow me, I’ll get you set up.”

He starts to rise, then pauses and glances down at the sea of villagers blocking the way.
“Hm. That could be a problem.”

He sits again and nods toward Roi.
“Fetch the registration gear.”

Roi nods briskly, but forgets the barrel above him. Clang. He smacks his head hard enough to make me wince, rubs it sheepishly, then leaps down and vanishes into the crowd.

The villagers are already shifting, turning toward something behind the tank. I follow their movement - and spot a cart being pulled forward by a pair of horses. On it lies a massive hunk of flesh, still clad in plates of thick green armor. It takes me a second to recognize it: part of the doom tortoise itself.

Agnar’s deep voice rumbles over the crowd.
“Ah, the feast has started to arrive.”

I blink at the cart.
“Is doom tortoise meat… good?”

He raises an eyebrow like I’ve just asked if fire is warm.
“Good? Lad, it’s a delicacy! Almost as good as wyvern meat. Nobles would kill for a taste. And we’ve got enough here to gorge ourselves for weeks!”

He lets out a booming laugh, then his tone snaps back to serious in an instant.
“By the way, you don’t mind if we share it out, do you? I doubt you planned on hauling the whole carcass for yourself.”

I shake my head quickly.
“No. Take all of it. I don’t need it.”

His eyes light up. He roars with laughter again.
“Ha! Then you’ve done more than save us - you’ve secured our future!”

The words confuse me until he explains, voice rolling like thunder.
“We can’t eat all that meat. Same with the armor - we’ve nothing here that can shape it. But we can sell it. At a high price. And with how much we’ve got…”

It clicks. The tortoise’s corpse isn’t just food or scrap - it’s wealth. Wealth enough to carry this village for years. I realise then that I don’t even know what currency this world uses. I consider asking, but clamp down on the impulse. Questions like that would expose me too easily. And maybe… maybe it’s too soon to tell anyone where I’m from.

So I just nod.
“Well… I’m glad we could help.”

“You’ve done more than that,” Agnar says, grinning again.

The cart rolls past, villagers tossing herbs and spices onto the meat as if preparing an altar offering. A moment later, Roi returns with a wooden board, a piece of parchment fixed to it, covered in neat lines of writing. He offers it up, and Agnar balances it on his lap. After scribbling a few marks, he hands it to me, tapping a blank space with the pencil.
“Sign here.”

I scan it quickly - it looks like a strange mix of application form and fantasy job sheet. I scrawl my name and hand it back. Agnar beams.
“Good. This is a basic form, since Kaunis is a small village. In a bigger city, they’ll want more details. For now…”

He digs into his clothing and pulls out a small cloth pouch. Untying it, he reveals a red wax seal marked with the image of an eagle. He presses it into my hand.
“Keep this close. It’ll help you. Or maybe it won’t - I haven’t been to a city in years.”

He chuckles. I carefully pocket it.
“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He ties up the pouch, hands the board back to Roi, then turns to me again.
“By the way - what are your plans?”

I falter. What are my plans? I’ve found a place that accepts me. Isn’t that what I was looking for? What’s next?

I look at Evren, but she offers no answer, just stares back.

Finally, I speak.
“I’d like to see a dragon.”

His eyes widen, then narrow.
“Did I hear that right? A dragon?”

I nod.

His grin returns, tinged with disbelief.
“Well, that’s insane. But considering how quickly you dispatched the doom tortoise… maybe it isn’t suicide after all.”

He studies me for a moment longer, then asks:
“So. How long will you stay here?”

Another difficult question. Evren will go wherever I do, at least until she’s healed. My gut tells me not to linger.

“Tomorrow,” I decide.

He nods approvingly.
“Then for the rest of today, relax. We’ll see to your every need.”

I smile, nodding my thanks.

He rises with some effort, Sivan steadying him, then hops down from the tank. Roi follows close behind as the three of them disappear into the crowd, following the cart of meat.

I glance at Evren. She raises her eyebrows. I shrug.
“Well. That was… something.”

She lets out a quiet laugh, shaking her head.

I step down from the tank’s frontal plate, thoughts racing. A few things gnaw at me. The measurement systems here - all Earth standards. Why? Am I not the first to arrive? And the wildlife… so many species I recognize, the invasive, fast-breeding kinds that spread wherever humans settle. Did they come here too? Or were they sent, like me?

And Agnar - why did he falter when he said he’d never seen anything like the tank? For a moment, it was as if he remembered something. Has he seen something like it before? That raises a thousand more questions I’m not ready to ask. Not yet.

I duck beneath the gun barrel and unlatch the engine cover. It squeals, sharp enough to make me wince. I really need to oil that. I reach for the fuel cap, fingers on the threads, when a thought strikes me.

I straighten and call over my shoulder. The villagers have all drifted back to their work, though a few still pass by. Some nod thanks, others only stare. The square is quieter now - I don’t have to raise my voice.

“Evren, how far does your magic reach?”

She frowns. “I don’t know exactly. If I can see the place, I can make something there - unless it’s blocked somehow.”

I nod. “So you need to see it, not just know it’s there?”

She sighs. “Why don’t you just tell me what you’re thinking?”

I grin. “Sorry. I was wondering if we could refuel while moving.”

She tilts her head, considering. “It should be possible. But I’d need to see the tank first - how much to make, where it goes.”

“Alright. Want to come down, or should I help you?”

“I can manage.”

She carefully pulls her legs free of the hatch, wincing as she avoids bumping her sprained ankle, then lowers herself down the sloped armor with her arms and one good leg. I point out the fuel tank and she studies it in silence.

“How full?”

I blink. The fuel doesn’t cost much, I know, but I’ve suddenly remembered the doom tortoise - its death must have given her a huge reserve of soul energy. My mind jumps ahead.

“Up to just below this line here. That’s the maximum.”

She nods, white energy curling around her hands, spilling into the tank in shimmering streams that settle into liquid diesel. When the flow fades, I close the cap and latch the cover.

I give her a guilty smile. “I feel like I’m using you.”

She shakes her head. “No. Think of it as payment. For looking after me.”

I nod, then gesture up at the looming barrel that forces me to stay crouched. “In that case… do you think you could replace the round I fired?”

“If you show me what it looks like.”

I hop down, circle to the rear, and open the ammo compartment. Sliding out a shell, I almost grunt with effort. A meter long, nearly nineteen kilos - I have to brace and lift with my legs. I ease it upright, tip skyward, as Evren peers down from above.

Her eyes widen. “Wow. That’s… big.”

“And heavy,” I mutter.

She studies it as I explain, pointing to each section.

“It isn’t simple either. An electrical charge-”

Her head tilts. “Electrical?”

“Think… lightning, but weaker. Controlled.”

She nods.

“An electrical spark ignites the propellant inside the casing. That launches this part down the barrel. Once it exits, these pieces peel away. This is the part that actually hits the target - at about four times the speed of sound.”

She absorbs it. I tilt my head.

“How much will it cost?”

She’s already working. Wisps of white soul energy coil around her as a second shell takes shape beside me, perfect down to the gleam of the casing. She exhales, weary.

“A human. A whole human, for one shot.”

I freeze. My stomach twists. I nod, forcing composure, and return the shells to storage.

At least we can make multiple machine gun rounds with one human life.

But even as I think it, disgust rises. To measure people based on how much ammunition they’re worth - what kind of person does that make me?

I shudder, hands lingering on the cool steel, while above me Evren watches with quiet pride, unaware of the storm breaking inside my mind.