Fire, Forests, and a Boar from Hell

Almost without thinking, I glance at my wrist. No watch, of course. Right. I really am stuck in some cliché medieval-fantasy world. If this were an isekai light novel, this would be the part where the author smugly reminds you that there are no digital clocks in fantasyland. Judging by the color of the sky, I’d say it’s morning… I hope. Great. Even telling the time is a guessing game here.

I take a slow breath and do what I’ve always done when faced with something incomprehensible: break it down, piece by piece. My rational, Cartesian brain refuses to give in to panic or to mystical mumbo-jumbo. This world must have its own rules, even if they’re different from the ones I know. It’s up to me to figure them out.
Unless, of course, our dear almighty Being X decides to provide me with a convenient instruction manual.
…No? Really? Not even a tutorial quest? Whether I’m in Aetheria or on Earth, she’s consistently useless.

Pururun — the little blue slime currently moonlighting as my only companion — has fallen asleep. Or at least, I think she’s asleep; she’s stopped trembling, and no glowing symbols are floating on her surface. I take advantage of the rare moment of calm to inventory my pitiful belongings and examine my surroundings more carefully.

The forest around me is disturbingly familiar. Oaks, beeches, ashes… or at least trees that look very much like them. Ferns, mosses, the smell of damp earth and sap — it’s as if this world was a distorted tracing of Earth.
The birds chirping overhead could easily pass for blackbirds or thrushes. Their melodic trills instantly bring back memories of early runs in Ueno Park back in Tokyo, when I’d jog before my hospital shifts to clear my head. The familiarity is both comforting… and unsettling. Like déjà vu in HD.

I pull out the loot I grabbed from the bandits: a few coins in different metals, a knife with a slightly dull blade but a solid grip, and — most interestingly — that strange red gem that’s been bugging me since the start.

It sits neatly in my palm, about the size of a walnut. Its polished surface catches the morning light, sending fiery reflections dancing inside. No doubt about it — this is a crafted object, carefully shaped for a specific purpose.
“Alright, let’s see what secrets you’re hiding, little rock.”

I rotate the gem in my fingers, searching for inscriptions, switches, or anything that might indicate how it works. Nothing obvious. Just in case, I try the classic video game methods: I rub it, shake it, blow on it.
“Come on, work, damn it!”
Nothing.
“Do something!”
Still nothing.
“Fire! Aqua! Light! Flash!”
Yeah, I’m yelling random spell names like an idiot. Sue me. Determination has always been one of my best — or worst — traits, depending on who you ask.

Pururun wakes up, her gelatinous body quivering softly. A little question mark symbol pops up on her surface like she’s judging me.
“Don’t say it, slime. I know I look stupid.”
She shifts shape and color, forming a small orange flame inside her translucent body.
“…Are you hinting that this is a fire gem?”

Alright. Let’s do this. I close my fingers around the stone and focus. In the manga and light novels my otaku friend used to binge, you usually just visualized the desired effect and poured your “mana” into the object. Easy, right?

I picture a flame. Not a giant fireball — I’d rather not reenact Joan of Arc’s death scene — just a steady flame like a lighter. I focus on warmth, light, energy…

A gentle warmth spreads through my palm. I open my eyes and — holy shit — a tiny orange flame is floating above the gem, flickering gently without burning anything.
“Holy crap! It actually works!”

The flame sputters out almost instantly, like my surprise scared it away.
“No, no, no! Come back!”

I try again, this time maintaining my focus. The flame reappears, brighter and steadier. It gives off no smoke and no smell, just soft heat and clean light. It’s mesmerizing.

After a few minutes, the flame fades and the gem’s glow dulls, like a rechargeable battery that’s run low. An hour later, its crimson shine gradually returns.
“Basically… a magical lighter that recharges itself,” I mutter, impressed despite myself.

This is a game changer. Magic here doesn’t rely on endless chanting or begging the gods for favors — it’s practical, object-based. Elemental gems that store and release energy depending on the user’s will. Probably rare and expensive, too.

My mind races. If this one produces fire, there must be others for water, air, earth… maybe even stronger versions capable of actual combat spells.
“Pururun, we’ve hit the jackpot.”

The slime bounces excitedly, a tiny heart flashing across her surface.

With this little flame, I can cook food, keep warm, and ward off nocturnal predators. That’s a serious survival upgrade in this undoubtedly dangerous world.

I spend the rest of the morning experimenting. The flame lasts about ten minutes before the gem is drained. It recharges slowly — probably by absorbing ambient energy. More interestingly, the intensity of the flame depends on how clearly I can visualize it. Focus equals power.

By noon, I’ve built a modest campfire near a small stream. Some dry branches, moss for tinder, and the gem for ignition. A basic but functional campsite.

Pururun settles next to the fire, her jelly body trembling gently in the heat. She looks so relaxed it’s almost comical.
“Even the gelatin in my old hospital cafeteria had more dignity than you,” I grumble affectionately.
She ignores me with the grace of a cat basking in sunlight.

The afternoon passes quietly. I continue my observations: squirrels that look eerily similar to European ones, rabbits darting between bushes, familiar insects buzzing around. This world really does feel like Earth’s weird cousin — almost the same, but not quite.

When evening falls, everything changes. The forest’s daytime soundtrack fades, replaced by ominous cracking sounds, mysterious rustling, and distant calls that sound nothing like birds. The shadows stretch and twist in the firelight.

Pururun inches closer to me, her hue darkening to a deep blue. Even she senses that night brings danger.
“Alright, slime buddy. We’re gonna have a nice, quiet night. Tomorrow, we’ll look for a village — or at least some signs of civilization.”

Naturally, the universe decides to mock me. A loud CRACK echoes nearby. Then another. And another, accompanied by a low, guttural growl that makes the ground shudder beneath my feet.

I slowly get to my feet, every nerve screaming alert. Beyond the circle of firelight, two glowing orbs stare back at us. Eyes. Big as ping-pong balls, catching the flames with a predator’s gleam.

The creature steps into the light, and my blood turns to ice.

It’s a boar. Or something like a boar — if boars were the size of compact cars, had tusks as long as swords, and radiated a faint red aura like a mini-boss from an RPG.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me. She’s messing with me, that damn Being X. No way I’m begging for divine help. I’ll handle this. Somehow…”

The monster paws at the ground, lowers its massive head, and charges. The sound is like a thunderclap rolling through the forest.