Chapter 3 – A Place to Start After Being Kicked Out

Not the dramatic kind—no roaring stomach, no cinematic collapse.
It’s worse than that.

It’s quiet.
Dull.
Persistent.

My legs feel hollow as I stand at the edge of the village, swaying slightly, vision blurring at the edges. Wooden fences and stone buildings stretch out before me—Carnac Village, if the map Luna gave me is right.

Smoke rises from chimneys.
People laugh.
Life continues.

None of it includes me.

I stand there longer than I should, hoping—stupidly—that someone might notice. Someone might take pity. Someone might offer anything.

Instead, I get looks.

Side-eyes.
Wrinkled noses.
Hands pulling children closer.

Like I’m dirt that learned how to walk.

“…Yeah,” I whisper. “About right.”

My knees buckle.

I hit the ground at the village entrance, back against a wooden post. The sky spins slowly above me.

I don’t pray. Never have.

But desperation does funny things.

If anyone’s listening… I’ll take fruit. Bread. Leftovers. I’m not picky.

Hoofbeats.

A cart rolls into view—pulled by a tired horse. A young man reins it in, while an older man sits beside him, chewing on something.

They slow.

They stop.

The young man stares at me for a second—then reaches into a sack and tosses something over.

Fruit.

I don’t think.

I grab it and eat. No words. No dignity. Juice runs down my chin as I devour it like an animal.

“…Thanks,” I manage, bowing my head slightly.

The young man chuckles. “Easy there, kid. You look like you lost a fight with the road.”

The old man snorts. “Or life.”

“Come on,” the young man says, patting the side of the cart. “Hop on.”

I don’t argue.

The cart creaks as we roll forward.

“This is Carnac Village,” the young man says. “Neutral folk. Don’t belong to any kingdom.”

“Sounds… peaceful.”

“Mostly.”

He glances at me. “Got a name?”

“…Randy.”

He blinks. “Strange name.”

“Yeah. Story of my life.”

He grins. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

I open my mouth—

—and Luna’s voice whispers directly into my mind.

Don’t tell them where you came from.
They won’t believe you anyway.

“…Then what am I supposed to say?”

Say you’re from the other continent.

“…Fine.”

I sigh. “I’m from… far away.”

The young man nods like that explains everything. “Thought so.”

Great. Lying already. New world speedrun.

We talk a bit more. I mention—carefully—a run-in with a king.

The old man nearly falls off the cart.

“King Lozla?!” he roars. “That madman who claims his kingdom belongs to heaven itself?!”

“…Heaven, huh.”

“Greedy, power-hungry fool,” the old man spits. “Divine authority my ass.”

So heaven exists here too.

Fantastic.

“Is there a place to pray?” I ask. “Like… a temple?”

“Oh, you mean the church,” the young man says. “Church of the Seven Star.”

Of course it’s seven. Why is it always seven?

They drop me off at the edge of the square.

The church is quiet.

Old stone. Tall windows. Dust hanging in beams of pale light.

A nun kneels at the altar, whispering prayers. I don’t interrupt.

Instead, I wander.

Murals line the walls.

Two suns.
Three moons.
Humans standing tall—dominant—but not alone.

Elves.
Dwarves.
Fairies.
Beastmen.

And opposite them—darkness.

Goblins. Orcs. Twisted shapes I don’t recognize.

Stars clash with black flames above them all.

“…Yeah,” I mutter. “This world’s got lore.”

Someone else is here.

A girl sits in the corner, reading a scroll. Quiet. Focused. Totally uninterested in the rest of existence.

I hesitate—then step closer.

“Uh… excuse me?”

No response.

“…Miss?”

She looks up slowly, eyes sharp and annoyed, snapping the scroll shut.

“Yes?”

“Do you know where I can find… jobs?”

She pauses, thinking, chin resting on her hand.

“There’s a guild,” she says. “But you’ll need church permission.”

“…Thanks.”

At least it’s something.

Luna’s voice cuts in again.

She’s pretty, isn’t she?

“…What?”

That jewel can see too, you know.

“…That’s creepy.”

Hurry up and get registered.

She sounds less like a princess and more like an overbearing sister.

The guild is nothing like the church.

It’s loud. Smells like alcohol. Sounds like furniture being abused.

A tavern.

An old drunk snores in the corner. A thin man nurses a drink. And behind the counter—

A giant woman downs a jug of beer like it’s water.

She looks at me.

“What do you want?”

“Uh… a job?”

She squints. “You look like an adventurer.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. One that lost a fight with nature.”

“…Fair.”

She jerks her thumb. “Counter.”

Behind it stands a man in an apron.

The guild master.

“…You’re the chef?”

“Multi-role position,” he says. “What can you do?”

“Shooting. Hunting. Gathering. Some crafting.”

“Crafting what?”

“Depends on materials.”

He grins. “Interesting.”

Forms slide toward me.

I stare at them.

“…Problem?”

“…I can’t read this.”

He laughs. “At least you talk fine. I’ll help.”

The test happens outside.

Weapons laid out.

I take all of them.

“All-rounder, huh?” he says, raising his shield.

He charges.

Fast.

I dodge—barely.

Uncle wasn’t kidding about footwork.

He attacks like a berserker. I throw the sword—draw the bow—fire.

Blocked.

I keep moving.

Arrows. Axe. Knife. Kicks. Elbows.

I break his shield—but he throws me aside like a doll.

I lose.

But he’s smiling.

“Welcome to the Carnac Guild,” he says. “Final step—church ceremony.”

He tosses me a gold coin.

The magic burns.

Light etches itself into my arm like living ink.

Attributes appear.

Strength – 40
Agility – 30
Endurance – 40
Intelligence – 100
Spirit – 100
Charisma – 50

“…That seems unfair,” I mutter.

The priest says nothing—only smiles.

Later, Lord Devonshire greets me personally.

Too personally.

Suspiciously.

That night, I finally lie down.

A bed.
A roof.
No monsters.

I strip down to my boxers and collapse.

“…I miss my room.”

Sleep takes me instantly.

I don’t notice when Luna slips into the bed.

Curled quietly at the edge.

Watching.

Guarding.