The night crawled.
Nero didn't sleep.
He sat on a fallen log near his tent, Protector in one hand, Oblivion in the other..
Eyes adjusted to the dark.
Ears tuned to every shift in the forest.
Nothing came.
No movement.
No sound.
Not even the insects returned.
Dawn bled slowly through the trees.
Before the sun could rise high enough to show itself, pale light filtered through the canopy.
Nero stood.
Packed everything.
Even the spent casings.
And moved.
East.
Behind him—
The bodies of the wolf pack lay scattered.
Cold. Silent.
Forgotten.
Twigs snapped under his boots as he pushed forward, carving marks into the trees as he went.
Time passed.
Then—
Water.
Faint at first.
Then clearer.
Flowing.
Nero slowed.
Careful.
He approached the edge of the trees and scanned the area ahead—the stream, the opposite bank, the treeline beyond.
Still.
No movement.
No threat.
He stepped out.
The open air felt different.
Cleaner.
At the stream, he set his bag down on the rocks.
Cold water ran over his hands as he washed his face—wiping away dirt, dried blood, and the remnants of the night.
For a moment—
He just breathed.
As he reached for his pack again, Angelo's voice surfaced.
"Still heading east?"
Nero shook his head slightly.
"No. Better to follow the water."
He turned.
South.
The stream guided his path, cutting through the forest like a quiet line of certainty.
The deeper he went, the thinner the trees became.
The weight of the forest began to lift.
Light grew stronger.
Air moved more freely.
Then—
He stepped out.
The forest ended behind him.
Ahead—
Open land.
A wide stretch of grass, swaying under the morning light.
The stream curved, joining a broader river not far away.
And there—
Standing alone—
A massive oak tree.
Nero approached it slowly.
Placed his palm against the trunk.
Rough bark. Solid. Old.
"…Biggest oak I've ever seen," he murmured.
Angelo's voice followed, quieter this time.
"Kind of majestic, isn't it?"
Nero exhaled.
"…Yeah."
He pulled his sleeping bag from his pack and settled beneath the tree.
For the first time since arriving—
He allowed himself to stop.
"Time to get some sleep," he muttered.
The wind moved gently through the branches above.
And beneath the oak—
Nero closed his eyes.
Nero slept beneath the shade of the oak.
Wind moved softly through the leaves above.
Birds chirped.
Branches rustled.
For the first time in a while—
It almost felt… peaceful.
…
Footsteps.
Slow.
Cautious.
A man approached the tree.
He stopped the moment he saw Nero.
"…What is this?"
His eyes narrowed.
"…Is that a human?"
A pause.
"…Wait."
His expression twisted in confusion.
"Is he being eaten by a worm…?"
He took a careful step closer, still staring.
"I've never seen that kind of creature before…"
Nero's right eye opened.
Cold.
Unreadable.
"What are you staring at?"
The man stiffened slightly, caught off guard.
"…Pardon me," he said after a brief hesitation. "Do you… require assistance?"
Nero didn't answer immediately.
He observed.
About 1.8 meters.
Solid build. Trained.
Black hair.
A faint cut along the left side of the chin.
His hand rested near the hilt of a sword.
Ready.
Not hostile—
But prepared.
"…Armed. Cautious," Nero thought.
Then—
Clothes… old-fashioned.
"…What's with those clothes?"
"Are you alright?" the man asked again.
Nero blinked.
"Yeah. Why?"
The man frowned slightly, clearly unsettled.
"…How are you this calm?"
A beat.
"There's a worm eating you."
Nero slowly opened his other eye.
Turned his head.
Looked at the sleeping bag wrapped around him.
Then back at the man.
"…You're serious?"
The man didn't laugh.
Didn't move.
His grip on the sword tightened just slightly.
Nero let out a quiet breath.
Then reached for the zipper.
"I'm not being eaten by anything."
The sound of fabric sliding broke the tension.
He pulled the zipper down—
—and stepped out.
The sleeping bag fell away.
Oblivion was already in his hand.
Raised.
Aimed.
The man's body tensed instantly.
His hand shifted—
Closer to the sword.
"This isn't a worm," Nero said flatly. "It's a sleeping bag."
A pause.
"…Never seen one before?"
The man's eyes flicked between Nero and the weapon.
"What… is that thing in his hand…?" he thought.
"…May I ask who you are?" the man said carefully. "You don't seem to be from around here."
Nero didn't lower the gun.
"My name is Nero Angelo."
A slight tilt of his head.
"And what do you mean by that?"
The man exhaled slowly.
"Your clothes… your equipment… even that 'sleeping bag'—I've never seen anything like them."
His eyes settled on the weapon again.
"…And that."
A brief silence.
Then—
Angelo's voice, calm inside Nero's mind.
"He's not going to attack… unless you give him a reason."
Nero held the aim for a moment longer.
Finger steady.
Watching.
Then—
Lowered the gun.
Holstered it, but left the safety off.
The shift was immediate.
The man relaxed slightly.
His hand moved away from his sword.
Nero gestured faintly to himself.
"This is normal where I come from."
He pointed back at the sleeping bag.
"And that's just something you sleep in when you're outside."
The man stared.
Still confused.
Still cautious.
But no longer hostile.
He tilted his head slightly.
"From where you came from? And where is that, if you don't mind me asking?"
Nero opened his mouth—
Then stopped.
"…Where I came from?" he muttered under his breath.
The man stepped a little closer. "I didn't quite catch that."
Nero folded his arms, frowning.
"…How do I even explain this?"
A brief pause.
Then—
"Here's the thing," Nero said, voice flat. "I'm not from here. I stepped through a portal… and ended up in that forest."
He watched the man closely—
expecting confusion.
It never came.
Instead—
The man laughed.
"Oh. I see. You should've said that sooner."
Nero blinked.
"…You understood that?"
"Of course," the man said with a grin. "Those things can be confusing as hell. One moment you're here—next, you're somewhere else entirely."
Nero's eyes narrowed slightly.
"You know about portals?"
"We've got a few scattered across the world," the man replied casually. "Step into one, come out of another."
He glanced toward the forest.
"You came from there, right? When did you arrive?"
"Just before nightfall."
The man's expression shifted—more focused now.
"…Did you stay in there overnight?"
Nero nodded.
"In a clearing. Got attacked by a pack of wolves. Strange ones. Horns."
The man's eyes sharpened.
"…Did they move with lightning?"
Nero paused—then nodded again.
"Yeah. Fast. Hard to track in the dark."
The man exhaled through his nose. "Lightning Wolves."
A beat.
"They're a nightmare at night."
Then, with a slight smirk—
"But when they charge… they make themselves visible."
Nero's lips curved faintly.
"…Yeah. Not very smart."
"They basically mark their own position," Nero added. "Might as well ask to be killed."
The man laughed.
And this time—
Nero joined him.
The tension broke.
Not completely—
But enough.
After a moment, the man spoke again.
"So… how are you planning to get back?"
The laughter faded.
Nero's expression darkened.
"I'm not."
The man didn't interrupt.
Just watched.
"…Something happened?" he asked quietly.
Nero shook his head once.
"Yes."
A pause.
"…And worse things will happen if I go back."
Silence settled between them.
Then—
The man straightened slightly.
"If that's the case… you could stay here."
Nero's eyes flicked up.
"…Here?"
The man nodded.
"Our kingdom."
Nero frowned.
"Kingdom?"
The man raised a hand—
And pointed.
Nero followed his gaze.
At first—
Nothing.
Just open land.
Then—
He focused.
And the horizon shifted.
Stone.
Towers.
Walls—rising from the earth as if they had always been there—
massive, layered, stretching across the landscape.
Sunlight caught the highest spires, turning them gold against the morning sky.
Banners moved with the wind.
Distant.
But undeniable.
A kingdom.
"…How did I not see that?" Nero muttered.
The man smirked.
"You were too focused on the forest."
"…Fair."
Nero's gaze lingered on the distant walls.
The scale.
The structure.
The life hidden behind it.
"This," the man said, stepping forward, "is the Kingdom of Valtheris."
He started walking.
Then glanced back.
"You coming?"
Nero didn't answer immediately.
He looked once more at the kingdom.
Then at the man.
A breath.
A decision.
He packed up and followed.
As they walked, the man turned and extended a hand.
"I never introduced myself."
A faint smile.
"Gareth Wynne."
Nero looked at the hand—
then shook it.
"Nero Angelo."