Arch 1: "Arrival at the new dawn."— Chapter : "First phase: Arriving at the first town."

The horses pulling the carriage began to slow their pace gradually the moment they spotted the village rooftops at the end of the path; it was not their first time coming to these lands, as would be expected of those who traveled this route frequently, yet a slight tremor was noticeable in their gait, and their breathing grew somewhat more rapid. The white horse in particular—known for its hyperactive nature, and which had remained almost completely silent throughout the journey—was now panting at a faster rate, as if anticipating their arrival. Meanwhile, the wooden crates holding provisions and essential equipment knocked against one another with a subtle but constant sound, caused by the wheels bouncing over the stones and potholes that marked the trade route.



The mosquito bites covering Tsumiya’s body remained unchanged, resisting any improvement that the passage of time might bring; their reddish, swollen bumps gleamed under the sun with an almost pearlescent sheen, like a sharp, living reminder burned into his memory: never again sleep under the dense leafy canopy of the forest, least of all in a world not his own—a place where survival rules had been honed and known since time immemorial, passed down through generations as a treasure of vital wisdom.



On the carriage’s front platform, in the driver’s seat that commanded a view of the path, Varzgax and Matthew sat motionless with calm, serene expressions, each firmly holding the reins of their assigned horse. Matthew remained silent for several more seconds, letting himself be carried along by the murmur of the wind and the creaking of wood, until he finally decided to break the silence. His blond hair, which until then had been dulled by the carriage’s shadow, took on a noticeable shine as sunlight fell directly onto his seat.



???: ["—Tsumiya, we’re arriving at the village now."]



As Tsumiya immersed himself in fantasies about the skills and abilities he might develop in this new world—imagining himself with powers that would make him a protagonist of these lands—the young, measured voice of an archer pulled him from his daydreams. Matthew spoke in a calm, even slightly lazy tone, as if the news were no more than an everyday detail, yet with enough clarity to let him know the journey was about to end.



"—Huh? Really?"



Tsumiya replied after a two-second delay, his voice confused and distracted, reflecting how little attention he had paid to his surroundings in recent minutes. His eyes, which until then had looked glassy and dazed from being lost in thought, regained their clarity in an instant, as if a veil had been lifted from his sight thanks to Matthew’s words.



Matthew: ["—I’m not lying to you; if you want, you can see for yourself."]



Matthew responded at once, showing no irritation at Tsumiya’s distraction; the situation had certainly been quite unusual since they found him on the path: the boy seemed to know nothing about the world around him—a detail that would have immediately raised suspicion in most people, but for Matthew was no more than just another trait of an ordinary person, of little consequence.



Meanwhile, at the back of the carriage, Tsumiya sat beside the wooden crates and some old rags, usually used to clean dust and dirt from the surfaces of containers. He was on the far left of the rear platform, with his arms wrapped around his legs in a comfortable position; the hood of his red sweatshirt had covered his head completely since they set out for the village, as if he were shielding himself from the outside world, or simply a way to think more clearly about his situation.



(«I don’t feel like getting up»)



Tsumiya let out a long, lazy yawn that shook his body from head to toe as if releasing tiredness built up in every muscle, yet despite his initial lack of enthusiasm, his will ultimately prevailed. Moving slowly and carefully—as if fearing he might unbalance the carriage or break something inside—he placed his hands on the back of the driver’s seat to lift himself up, while his knees rested firmly on the cool, polished wooden surface, trying to gain enough height to see what lay ahead with his own eyes.



The landscape that unfolded before his eyes in that moment was of simple yet moving beauty, enough to make him forget his weariness for a while; the forest lining the path, with trees of different species and heights standing like silent guardians, he had already seen the day before when he had suddenly appeared in this world—as if the earth itself had swallowed him and spit him out in a distant place. But what truly captured all his attention was the village they were approaching: a harmonious cluster of wooden and stone houses that exuded the peace one expects of a refuge in the heart of the forest, with thick white columns of smoke rising from chimneys as a sign of life and warmth, and a deep sense of calm that enveloped everything, from the trees to the ground beneath their feet.



"—Ohh..."



A small smile formed on his lips, faint but genuine, as if the landscape had touched his heart unexpectedly. Just then, the wind blew strongly against his face, carrying away the sun’s heat and leaving a cool sensation on his skin; he closed his eyes by instinct as the fabric of his sweatshirt rustled softly in the movement of air, like a whisper speaking of freedom. Without realizing it, the hood slipped back to its original position, resting at the nape of his neck and exposing his face to direct contact with the outside world—but he quickly adjusted it carefully to cover his head again, as if the feeling of being exposed were too intense.



???: ["—Do you like what you’re seeing?"]



The firm yet kind voice of a man whose bearing commanded respect caught his attention suddenly, making him turn his head toward the driver’s seat. It was Varzgax, speaking in the same calm, respectful tone he had used since finding Tsumiya unconscious beside the trade route—as if he had always been part of their group, just another companion who had traveled with them from the start.



"—You’re right."



Tsumiya replied calmly, his gaze—which usually seemed bored or indifferent to his surroundings—now showing a softer, more relaxed expression, influenced by the tranquility of the environment around him. The village’s serenity was so enveloping that it even made him briefly forget his thoughts of being a "protagonist" in this unknown world, replacing them with a simple desire to belong in that peaceful place.



On the driver’s seat, Varzgax and Matthew continued to handle the reins with ease and skill, each with their own style: one steady and sure, with precise movements that inspired confidence in his horse; the other relaxed yet accurate, as if the carriage were an extension of his own body. Both pulled the reins tighter to stabilize the carriage’s weight as they descended a gentle slope leading to a smooth curve—right at the village entrance, where the path widened to allow vehicles to pass.



The carriage advanced at a controlled slow pace; the sound of its wheels scraping against the compacted ground remained steady and rhythmic, accompanied by the regular beat of the horses’ hooves, which seemed to sync with the heartbeat of those traveling. Finally, it came to a stop on the path leading straight to the village’s main entrance, reaching the goal they had set that early morning when the sun had barely begun to warm the sky. The horses stopped in an orderly, disciplined manner, following their drivers’ commands with the obedience of those who know their work, and the silence of the moment grew deeper—as if the whole world were holding its breath.



Some of the village’s inhabitants looked up curiously when they saw the carriage stop at the entrance, pausing their work with tools or fabrics for a moment, but quickly returned to their tasks the instant they recognized the familiar visitors. The peace remained undisturbed when they saw it was the adventurers who often brought essential supplies to the community—as part of a bond of trust built over time. The children kept playing in the small central square, their laughter ringing in the air like music; they did not stop running or laughing at the strangers’ arrival, for to them each visit was a new chance to hear stories of distant journeys.



Varzgax: ["—We’ve arrived..."]



Varzgax spoke calmly; his posture relaxed noticeably after hours of keeping his focus on the path. He climbed slowly down from his seat, stretching his muscles and breathing deeply the fresh air offered by the village’s nature, while the axe strapped to his back made a subtle metallic sound as it moved with his body.



"—Understood."



Tsumiya and Matthew spoke in unison—a coincidence that surprised them both, prompting a brief exchange of glances. However, Matthew chose to remain silent and jumped lightly down from his seat, heading straight to the back of the carriage to help unload the equipment, where Tsumiya was still sitting.



For his part, Tsumiya stood carefully so as not to trip over the crates still on the platform, then climbed down from the rear platform with a small jump to reach solid ground. His white sneakers felt the texture of the damp, fresh earth again—still holding the morning’s dew—and a strange yet pleasant look of peace appeared on his face as he took in the place’s unique atmosphere, as if his body recognized something familiar in that soil. A few steps away, Matthew was already lifting the wooden crates with strength but care, placing them neatly on the level ground and preparing to organize the goods to be delivered to the village’s leaders.



(«Even this feels pretty good»)



With his hands in the deep pockets of his red sweatshirt, a small sigh of satisfaction escaped his lips—as if releasing all the stress built up during the journey, or simply a way to clear his thoughts better. He slowly closed his eyes, a calm smile on his face reflecting the peace he felt inside—almost at the same moment Varzgax did the same a few meters away, both enjoying the moment of calm after their efforts, as if the world had stopped just for them.



"—Now all that’s missing is my cheat ability..."



Tsumiya murmured softly, laughing gently at how odd his words sounded in a world where magic and fantastic elements were part of everyday life. It was still amazing to him, thanks to his great enthusiasm for other worlds, ancient magic, and cheat abilities—topics that had fascinated him since childhood, when he spent hours reading stories and playing video games about them.



???: ["—I’m surprised to see you so early, Varzgax; you usually arrive at night."]



At the sound of the deep, resonant voice, Tsumiya turned his head quickly to find its source and saw an elderly man approaching the carriage, leaning on a wooden staff carved with symbols that seemed to hold special meaning. He wore an old but well-cared-for tunic, its threads showing the passage of time with dignity, and over it a black hooded cloak that gave him an air of wisdom and authority—as if he were the guardian of the village’s secrets.



Varzgax: ["—I’m always responsible, Lord Lyson."]



Varzgax replied with a friendly smile, moving slowly toward the elderly man as he approached the parked carriage. The axe on his back made a small metallic creak with each step he took, like an echo of his presence.



Just then, Matthew finished placing the last wooden crate on the level ground and exhaled in satisfaction, his chest rising and falling with relief at having completed the task. He glanced briefly at Tsumiya and gave him a warm, friendly smile before turning his attention back to the approaching elderly man, showing respect for his presence.



"—Come, you should meet Lord Lyson."



Matthew said in his characteristic relaxed tone, walking lightly toward the front of the carriage where Varzgax and the elderly man were talking—clearly expecting Tsumiya to follow. Tsumiya stood confused for a moment, his eyes wandering around as if looking for an excuse to stay behind, but finally decided to go with him, lifting his feet carefully and following until he reached Varzgax’s side, where the elderly man’s presence felt even more prominent.



Matthew: ["—How are you, Lord Lyson?"]



Matthew greeted him in his measured, kind tone, waving his hand warmly. His white shirt remained quite neat despite the journey, as driving had not required much physical activity. Behind him, Tsumiya stood with his usual look—which at first glance seemed bored—his hands still in his sweatshirt pockets.



Lyson: ["—Oh, young Matthew, I’m very well, thank you."]



The elderly man replied in a warm, kind tone, greeting Matthew respectfully. His gaze rested on Tsumiya for an extra second—having never seen him on any previous visits—but he still gave him a warm, welcoming look.



Varzgax: ["—Have you finished unloading the crates?"]



Varzgax spoke calmly, turning partially to look at Matthew over his shoulder—using his greater height to see him without having to fully turn his sturdy body. Matthew was silent for a moment, then responded with a gentle nod of his head, his eyes showing the task had been carried out with the utmost care.



Tsumiya glanced briefly at both men; his usually cold, reserved gaze softened as he saw the genuine friendship between them—a bond that seemed to have been forged through many journeys and shared moments. With a little more confidence, he pulled his hands from his pockets and adjusted the hood of his red sweatshirt to rest at the nape of his neck, exposing his face for the first time since he had boarded the carriage. He stepped toward the elderly man, who stood as calm and steady as a rock in the middle of a river.



Tsumiya: ["—My name is Tsumiya Higeri; it’s a pleasure to meet you, Lord Lyson."]



Tsumiya bowed, inclining slightly toward the elderly man in a gesture of courtesy common in his original world—where greetings were a sign of respect toward those with more experience or age. A soft laugh escaped Lyson’s lips; he found the gesture a bit overdone but endearing, like a reminder of times past when courtesies were more formal.



Lyson: ["—Don’t worry, everything is fine."]



The elderly man said kindly, removing his hand from the white horse’s head—where he had been stroking it gently, making the animal snort with pleasure—to fix his gaze on Tsumiya’s hands. The welts and bites left by forest mosquitoes were clearly visible there, reddish and swollen under the sun.



Varzgax: ["—That’s why I brought the boy with us."]



Just as the elderly man was about to speak, Varzgax’s firm, calm voice cut in—his words clear and direct, explaining why Tsumiya was there. The man stepped slowly toward Tsumiya and gave him a firm yet affectionate pat on the shoulder, making him straighten up and feel a sense of belonging. Matthew watched the interaction curiously, moving slowly up behind Varzgax to listen to what would be said, his eyes attentive to every movement.



Lyson: ["—I understand. While you two carry the crates, I’ll prepare some remedies."]



The elderly man’s voice was clear and decisive, his words filled with the confidence that only experience can bring. He looked back at Tsumiya and nodded his head to indicate he should follow, his expression showing he was ready to help with the same generosity he always offered to those who came to the village in need. Tsumiya was silent for a moment, looking at Varzgax to seek some sign of approval; seeing only a calm smile on his face—as if to say "you’re in good hands"—he felt confident enough to follow the elderly man, his steps matching the rhythm of the wooden staff.



"—Thank you very much for your hospitality, Lord Lyson."



Tsumiya replied in a low but clear voice, his words full of gratitude for the help offered without unnecessary questions. He moved slowly behind the elderly man, following him along the path leading into the village—where houses clustered around narrow, well-tended paths. His white sneakers made a soft little sound each time they touched the compacted earth of the path, like a whisper lost in the quiet atmosphere of the place, as he entered the forest refuge that seemed to protect itself from the outside world.



(«It seems this agriculture-based economy is quite stable... They even have pretty good connections....»)



Tsumiya’s thoughts were simple, but focused precisely on what he wanted to consider at that moment about the village’s situation—watching how each house had its own garden, and how paths were designed to make transporting produce easier. And amid these practical thoughts, his dream of becoming a protagonist and hero persisted—still his main goal in this unknown world he was still learning to understand.



As he entered the village with the elderly man, Tsumiya observed his surroundings calmly, his gaze moving through every corner with attention and curiosity. He saw how the village made use of nature with intelligent farming systems, adapted to the forest terrain and local weather cycles. The children in the square stopped for a moment and looked at Tsumiya with curiosity and a hint of confusion—their large eyes fixed on his red sweatshirt and white sneakers, perhaps because his clothes were strange and unlike any they knew in the village, or simply because they had never seen him before in their community.



Lyson: ["—Come this way, young Tsumiya."]



The elderly man’s voice caught Tsumiya’s attention again, making him focus on the instructions as the old man turned to walk slowly toward a cabin more carefully kept than the village’s other houses. Its wooden walls were polished with care and its straw roof was so neat it looked like a work of art; this was the village chief’s house—or rather, this was Lyson’s house, where he lived and cared for those who needed his knowledge of medicinal herbs.



"—You’re quite a kind person, Lord Lyson."



Tsumiya replied at once, following carefully in his footsteps for several seconds until they reached the cabin door, where a thin column of smoke rose from the chimney on the roof. It was a warm, welcoming open-air cabin atmosphere—one he had only seen in video games and many of the videos he used to watch to improve his focus while studying in his original world.



"—Let’s begin the treatment."



Lyson said softly, leaning on his staff to push the cabin door open within a few seconds, revealing a bright interior scented with dried herbs and wood burning in the central stove. The space was organized with shelves full of jars, cloth bags, and work tools—everything arranged in an order that reflected the elderly man’s organized mind.