The Last Road Home

Chapter 4

Aren lay unconscious on the bed, his damp body covered by a thick white blanket. Liora and one of the three golden-haired women had pulled him from the bathtub after he swallowed too much water and passed out. They had managed to revive him before carrying him to bed, where they waited for him to regain consciousness.

His eyelids twitched, and he groaned as he slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he did was touch his nose, which still hurt from the ordeal.

“Look, he's waking up!” Liora announced.

The three women stood beside the bed, watching him with concern. The woman who had helped rescue him remained closest, while Liora hovered near his face.

“Can you hear me? Are you awake?” the fairy asked.

Aren immediately pushed himself upright, causing the blanket to slip toward his waist. The women exchanged surprised looks, and he quickly pulled the covering back over his chest.

He glanced around the room, recognizing the same surroundings he had seen before attempting to drown himself. His plan had failed, and he was still trapped in this unfamiliar world.

“Why am I still here?” he blurted out. “Shouldn't I have returned to my—”

Liora darted forward and covered his mouth with both hands.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, forcing a laugh as she turned toward the women. “He must still be confused after everything that happened!”

Aren stared at her until he noticed the warning in her eyes. She leaned close to his ear and whispered, “Don't mention returning to another world. You'll only make them suspicious.”

Understanding her concern, Aren stopped talking and stretched his arms as though he had only just awakened from an uncomfortable sleep.

One of the women stepped forward. “Sir, are you feeling better? Would you like something warm to drink?”

“No, thank you. I need some rest, but could you bring me clean clothes? The ones I wore during the battle are filthy.”

“Of course, sir. We'll bring you something suitable.”

The woman bowed before leaving with the other two. Once the door closed behind them, Aren and Liora released simultaneous sighs of relief.

Aren turned toward the fairy. “Why am I still here? I thought I would wake up in my own bed after what happened.”

Liora's expression soured. She clenched her fists and stomped her tiny feet in the air.

“How many times must I explain this? Your soul is bound to this world. You cannot return to your original world until you complete your mission!”

Despite her irritation, Aren struggled to suppress a laugh. Her furious expression was almost amusing, but he forced himself to take the matter seriously.

“Fine. What exactly is this mission?”

“You must defeat Abyssal Dreadmaw.”

Aren frowned. “And what is that supposed to be?”

Liora flew toward his right hand and pointed at the thick black band around his wrist.

“This mark identifies people who come from other worlds. Those born here don't possess it. Whenever someone arrives with a soul from another world, the mark identifies them as a person assigned a mission.”

Aren examined the wristband. He had already discovered that touching it brought up a transparent screen displaying his identity, level, and special trait. It had also helped him understand the ability that allowed him to grow stronger whenever he landed a successful hit.

“I've used this thing before,” he explained. “It showed me my level and special trait during the fight against Grimjaw. Is this some kind of video game?”

Liora tilted her head. “Video game? What does that mean?”

“It's a game people play for entertainment. You control a character, complete missions, and fight enemies. If this is a game, perhaps you're an NPC and I'm the main character.”

“I don't know what either of those things means,” Liora replied with a shrug. “I only know that people carrying this mark have souls from other worlds. Fairies are assigned to guide them and help them complete their missions.”

Aren leaned against the pillows, considering her explanation. The wristband might resemble a game interface, but if Liora was telling the truth, it was connected to whatever had brought him here. Completing his mission appeared to be his only way home.

“There's something else you must understand,” Liora continued, her expression turning serious. “Nobody can know that you came from another world or that you've been assigned a mission. This information must remain secret.”

“Who are we keeping it secret from?”

“We don't choose this responsibility,” she explained. “Whenever someone from another world arrives, the knowledge is automatically placed in our minds, and one of us is assigned to guide that person. We're created for this purpose.”

Aren studied her. “But why can't other people know where I came from?”

“Because if that information spreads, your life could be in danger.”

Her serious tone erased the amusement from his face. He had hoped this was a game he could quit whenever things became difficult, but Liora's warning suggested that the situation was far more dangerous than he had imagined.

“Fine,” he said after a moment. “If defeating Abyssal Dreadmaw is the only way home, then I'll do it. How difficult can it be?”

Liora gave him a look that suggested he had no idea what he was saying. She landed on his wristband, and a faint golden glow spread from her hands as a transparent screen appeared above it. After examining the information, she pointed toward the section displaying his level.

“Abyssal Dreadmaw lives in the deepest part of the ocean. It's classified as an SSSSS-rank monster, and only someone who has reached Level 999 has a chance of defeating it. You're currently Level 40, which means you still need to gain 959 levels.”

Aren stared at her in disbelief.

“Nine hundred and fifty-nine levels? Are you serious? How long will that take?”

“Perhaps twenty years,” Liora replied calmly. “If you're exceptionally lucky, you might manage it in ten.”

“TWENTY YEARS?”

Aren clutched his head as the reality of her answer sank in. He had expected a difficult mission, not years of fighting monsters before he could return home.

“Are you joking? I'll be forty-five by then! I was already struggling to figure out my life before I came here, and now you're telling me I might spend decades fighting monsters?”

“There is no other way,” Liora said. “And you must remember something even more important. If you die here, you die in your original world, too. So far, 13,597 people from other worlds have died after arriving here. Don't become the next one.”

Aren slowly lowered his hands. He wanted to believe she was exaggerating, but her expression showed genuine concern for his survival. The number she had given him made the mission seem even more dangerous than he had imagined.

Liora pointed at the wristband again. “The name recorded for you here is Aren. Your mission is to grow stronger, defeat Abyssal Dreadmaw, and find your way home. Do you understand?”

Aren looked at the transparent screen. His health had returned to its maximum after the medicine healed his injuries, and the number beside one of his attributes had increased by one. The weapon section remained empty.

He still had many questions, but arguing would not change his circumstances. If he wanted to survive, he needed to understand this world and find a way to become stronger.

“Alright,” he said. “I'll complete the mission.”

A knock interrupted their conversation. The three golden-haired women returned with a fresh set of clothes, determined to ensure their victorious guest received proper treatment.

They helped Aren dress in an outfit similar to his previous one, except that this set was gray and included a hood he could pull over his head to conceal his face. He tried to remain composed throughout the process, but their closeness made him uncomfortable.

I need to get used to this world before I lose my mind, he thought.

Once they had finished, one of the women stepped back and smiled.

“Is everything to your satisfaction, sir? Is there anything else we can do for you?”

“No, that's enough. Thank you.”

Another knock sounded before the women could reply. The door opened, revealing a tall, slender man with long white hair, a thick mustache, and a full beard. Despite his appearance, he did not seem particularly old.

Aren thought the newcomer resembled a headmaster from one of the fantasy stories he had read, but he kept the observation to himself as the man approached.

“Forgive the interruption, Lord Darius,” the man said with a respectful bow. “Your next match is scheduled for tonight. His Majesty, King Galen of the Kingdom of Esteria, has requested that you fight an S-rank monster known as the Ogræking.”

Aren's expression changed.

“An S-rank monster?”

He remembered how brutally Grimjaw had beaten him before his special trait turned the fight in his favor. Even with his ability, he had come close to dying against a monster whose threat rank was far below the one the king had chosen for his next opponent. Now, after barely recovering from that battle, he was expected to face something even more dangerous.

The man bowed again. “Please make the necessary preparations, Lord Darius.”

Before Aren could question the king's decision or object to the match, the man left and closed the door behind him.

The three women exchanged worried glances before turning toward Aren. They offered him encouraging smiles, but their expressions did little to reassure him.

Aren barely noticed their efforts. He had only just learned that he was trapped in another world, and now its ruler seemed determined to send him straight back into the arena.