Tom was methodically reviewing the Core Rank data and the implications of his 'Awakened' status. His mind, honed by decades of rigorous scientific inquiry in the closed, regulated environments of Earth 313's C.A.R.C. labs, was processing the impossible with clinical detachment. The sudden appearance of a metaphysical 'Core' and an Essence abilities was a radical dataset demanding immediate integration. It was while he was still formulating a theoretical framework for this systemic biological modification that a soldier approached him near the infirmary tent.
The soldier was young, armored in dull bronze plating that showed the scars of recent, brutal use, and he looked perpetually exhausted, a common, grim mask worn by the residents of this besieged fortress.
"Dr. Smith?" the soldier asked, his voice low and weary. "The Commander requires your presence at the command post. Follow me, please."
Tom simply nodded. The loss of all his Earthly possessions meant his once meticulously chosen professional attire was gone, replaced by the coarse, scratchy feel of a heavy, unfamiliar leather tunic and breeches. He adjusted the simple, steel-framed spectacles he'd been issued—a necessity for his failing Earthly vision, now given a renewed, if slightly blurry, purpose in the glaring new light of the First Realm.
"Lead the way, Soldier," Tom replied, his tone precise.
The soldier turned, leading him away from the relative quiet of the infirmary and into the chaotic, kinetic heart of the Fortress of Avalon. Tom followed, his footsteps measured and silent on the packed earth path.
"If you don't mind me asking, how is it that you seem to know my name?" Tom inquired, his curiosity piqued by the immediate familiarity. He hadn't introduced himself to anyone outside of a cursory identification upon his forced arrival.
The soldier turned his head slightly, a faint, resigned look on his face. "Oh, that. Well, we have a High Priestess here in Avalon. She has… sensitivities. She informed us that you were a top researcher in your world before arriving here, and that you possess a unique intellect. She didn't share much about your world, only that it was a great source of knowledge now lost, and that you were of particular value. It's why you were immediately flagged for a specialized training path."
"Understood," Tom replied, filing away the term High Priestess and sensitivities as unquantifiable variables linked to divination or advanced Essence disciplines. The idea of being recognized—even pre-identified—was less an ego boost and more a vulnerability to be managed.
The journey continued past bustling logistics yards, where carts overloaded with timber and stone were being pulled by large, shaggy quadrupeds, and tense weapon depots stacked with primitive, yet Essence-imbued, iron weaponry. The air was thick with the scent of pine, sweat, and something subtly metallic—the overwhelming, pervasive Essence flow of the First Realm.
They soon arrived at the command post, a heavily fortified timber structure, where Tom was briefly presented to a tall, grim-faced knight, a high-ranking officer of the Avalon defense forces. The knight seemed utterly unconcerned with Tom's recent, cataclysmic arrival, focused instead on the impending reality of conflict. Tom was quickly briefed and assigned a temporary support role. His immediate, critical task was to gain proficiency with his discovered Essence ability, the Hunter's Eye, before the Holy Kingdom of Ark launched its inevitable siege.
After the terse exchange, the soldier led Tom toward the northern gate, where the massive stone walls of the fortress met the dense, ancient forest. The sight of the medieval fortifications, with their crenellations and heavy steel gates, anchored Tom in the physical reality of the First Realm, forcing a final, complete detachment from the familiar structures of Earth.
As they walked the last stretch, the soldier lowered his voice, glancing around nervously. "Your trainer is waiting in the woods, Lady Lillia, the Milli woman."
"I am aware," Tom replied neutrally.
"She's… quite something. Beautiful, of course, like all Milli," the soldier muttered, a hint of awe and exhaustion mixing in his tone. "But her personality is truly unique. She's the cheeriest person in all of Avalon. Most of us here, well, we're all shadows and grim faces with the Ark forces coming. But Lillia? She's like sunshine. Don't let it fool you, though; she's one of the best archers we have. Her Essence ability is terrifying."
Tom filed the observation away: Lillia, profile: High enthusiasm, high competence. Behavioral anomaly under stress. "Thank you for the operational detail, Soldier. It is helpful to know the demeanor of my instructor."
The soldier glanced at Tom, a small sigh escaping his lips. He clearly realized that Tom was the very essence of the calculated genius type—the complete, joyless opposite of Lady Lillia.
They reached the forest's edge. The air here was fresher, thick with the scent of pine and the metallic Essence residue. He found her standing beneath a towering, ancient oak. She was even more striking than the officer's terse description suggested. Lillia, a member of the Milli race, possessed a delicate, almost elven grace. Her skin was fair, and her features were symmetrically perfect, framed by hair the color of liquid gold that cascaded to her waist. She wore light leather armor that allowed maximum mobility, and a long, finely carved wooden bow rested against her hip. If the "angel-like" description meant she had wings, they were currently folded and hidden—a brief, silvery shimmer visible between her shoulder blades.
She spotted Tom approaching and waved with an enthusiasm that felt entirely out of place in a war camp.
"Hello, hello! You must be Tom Smith! I'm Lillia, and I'm going to be your temporary instructor! Welcome to the First Realm, or as my people call it, the Realm of Weeping Blossoms! its called that because the first realm is filled with lakes, rivers oceans, and a lot of mountains hence the name. But don't worry, we won't be weeping today, we'll be focusing!" she chirped, her voice light and melodic.
Tom stopped a few paces away, his expression neutral. The cheerfulness was jarring, yet he cataloged it as a necessary variable in the equation of their survival.
"Dr. Smith," Tom corrected gently, adjusting his spectacles. "I understand you are tasked with assisting me in the application of the 'Hunter's Eye' ability. I appreciate your promptness, Lillia. Before we begin, I must ask: this entire environment—the system prompt, the immediate danger, the introduction to a power structure—aligns perfectly with a high-stakes, forced tutorial or simulated game scenario from Earth. Is this a controlled environment, a test, or a simulation for the newly Awakened?"
Lillia tilted her head, her smile faltering slightly in confusion, a momentary crack in her facade of boundless cheer. "A 'tutorial'? A 'game'? I... I don't know what those words mean, Dr. Smith. She stepped closer, her expression earnest and a touch concerned. "What you are experiencing is real. The Fortress of Avalon is real stone, those soldiers are real men. Every action you take here has a consequence that is final and permanent. There are no reloads or restarts. Do you understand?"
The finality in her voice was a physical blow, a harsh erasure of the comforting, quantifiable buffer Tom always assumed existed in high-stakes environments. The stakes were absolute.
She paused, her gaze turning utterly serious, a deep, ancient sorrow replacing her joy. "The reason we fight is the foundation of this world's misery. Two thousand years ago, the War of the Gods shattered everything. Our gods—the Ascendants of the First Realm—either died or were so heavily injured that they sealed their remaining soul and Essence into powerful Tomes. The Holy Kingdom of Ark is marching because they, and all the other major kingdoms, are seeking these Tomes. They want to eliminate the influence of every other god's believers, find their own fallen deity's Tome, and claim its sealed power. The war you are now in is a religious, apocalyptic hunt for the remains of divinity."
Lillia then looked Tom straight in the eye, her voice dropping to a whisper of profound gravity. "And Earth 313... was part of that fallout. When the gods were dying, they cast a final, monstrous protection spell. It was designed to consume weaker worlds—like yours—to siphon their life force and Essence, ensuring the First to Third Realms didn't completely fall apart in the chaos. That's why your world was destroyed, and why the survivors were scattered here. This isn't a test for your benefit, Dr. Smith. This is the consequence of a sacrifice made two millennia ago. We know almost nothing about Earth, only that it was consumed, and its survivors were deposited randomly here."
Tom's eyes registered the full, terrifying scope of her explanation. The lack of understanding of his Earthly terminology confirmed the nature of his reality. The cosmic causality was far more complex and devastating than any of his C.A.R.C. models predicted.
"Understood," Tom said, his composure unwavering despite the emotional weight of the truth. "The operational reality is unfiltered, and the cosmic causality is far more complex than anticipated. My primary focus is now damage mitigation and optimized Essence usage. Let us proceed with the training then, Lillia. Where should we begin?"