The scream was what did it.
It wasn't the roar of the heavy-duty engine or the screech of tires on rain-slicked asphalt. It was the high, thin wail of a child who had wandered too far into the crosswalk. Stephen Walker didn't think; his body, fueled by years of playing heroes in dark, pixelated dungeons, acted on a primal script.
He felt the cold spray of the puddle as he lunged. He felt the small, fragile weight of the boy as he shoved him toward the curb. And then, he felt the world end in a white-hot flash of steel and thunder.
There was no pain—only the sudden, terrifying realization that the ground was no longer beneath him. Then, darkness.
******
Stephen opened his eyes to a sky that was the wrong color.
Instead of the gray smog of the city, he saw a canopy of ancient, gnarled trees, their leaves a bruised purple against a twilight sky. He scrambled to his feet, hands frantically checking his torso, his neck, his head.
"I... I should be dead," he whispered. His voice sounded hollow, echoing in the unnatural stillness of the woods. There wasn't a scratch on him. Even his glasses, which should have been crushed, sat perfectly on his nose.
Then, a familiar, low-fidelity chime rang in his mind. A semi-transparent box of flickering blue light drifted into his vision.
------
[ SYSTEM INITIALIZED ]
Current Location: The Unclaimed North (The Continent)
Status: Soul Re-Anchored.
Note: Your arrival has thinned the Veil. The Great Well bleeds into this world.
[ STARTER PACK REWARDED FOR HEROIC SACRIFICE ]
Claiming...
------
Stephen felt a sudden weight on his body. He looked down and gasped. His modern clothes were gone, replaced by heavy, moth-eaten Mage Robes that smelled of old parchment and ozone. At his hip hung a heavy, rusted sheath containing the Heritage Sword—the jagged, reliable blade of a Lyrian knight.
In his hands appeared a leather-bound Grimoire of Fire Magic and a small, pulsing glass vial filled with a glowing, viscous silver liquid.
------
[ ITEM: JOTUNN CRANIAL FLUID ]
Effect: Awaken the Source. Permanent Mana Unlocking.
Warning: The process is... unpleasant.
------
"Lunacid," Stephen breathed, a mixture of terror and relief washing over him. "It's the game system. I'm not just alive; I'm in a nightmare I actually know how to play."
He didn't hesitate. He uncorked the vial. If he was in the "Unclaimed North," he knew he wasn't alone. In the Witcher's world, the wilderness was a death sentence for the unprepared. He swallowed the silver fluid in one gulp.
It felt like swallowing molten lead. Stephen fell to his knees, his veins glowing with a cold, pale light. His vision fractured, showing him the forest as it truly was—not just trees and dirt, but a web of humming power.
------
[ SOURCE AWAKENED ]
New Stat Unlocked: MANA
New Skill Unlocked: Fire Ball (Level 1)
Current Task: Survive the First Night.
Reward: 250 Points.
------
As the system text faded, the silence of the forest broke. A low, wet growl drifted from the shadows. But it wasn't the howl of a wolf or the chittering of a Witcher's Nekker. It was a sound Stephen recognized from the depths of the Great Well.
A Fog Beast. Its elongated, pale limbs began to pull itself from between the trees, its single glowing eye fixed on the "outsider."
Stephen gripped the hilt of his Heritage Sword, the cold steel grounding him. "Right," he muttered, his knuckles whitening. "Level one. Let's see if the fire works the same way here."
The air around his left hand began to shimmer with a dangerous, orange heat.
******
The Fog Beast didn't move like a creature of flesh and bone. It drifted, its elongated limbs twitching with the jagged, unnatural animation of a puppet on invisible strings. As it stepped into the moonlight, the air around it grew thick and cold, a supernatural mist clinging to its pale skin like a shroud.
Stephen's heart hammered—not with the dull thud of a dying schoolboy, but with the frantic rhythm of a survivor.
The beast lunged. It was a blur of white claws aiming for his throat. Stephen dived to the right, the heavy Mage Robes snapping against his legs. He felt the rush of cold air as the claws missed him by an inch.
He didn't wait for it to turn. He didn't look for a HUD or a button. He reached into the void he felt in his chest—the raw heat of the Source he had just awakened—and forced it into his palm.
"Burn," he hissed.
There was no icon to guide his aim. A violent, sputtering burst of orange flame erupted from his hand, guided only by his desperate intent. It hissed as it collided with the creature's damp hide. The Fog Beast shrieked—a sound like metal grinding on stone—as the magical fire scorched its oily skin.
The monster recoiled, flailing in the dirt. Stephen seized the opening. He drew the Heritage Sword. The blade felt heavy, balanced for a knight with more muscle than he currently possessed, but the System guided his grip, steadying his trembling wrist. He swung upward in a desperate arc.
The rusted steel bit deep into the creature's chest. Instead of red blood, a thick, glowing blue ichor sprayed across Stephen's robes. The Fog Beast let out one final, gurgling breath before dissolving into a pile of gray ash and a single, shimmering core.
******
Stephen slumped against a moss-covered oak, gasping for air. The adrenaline was fading, replaced by a cold, humming presence in the back of his mind. He didn't need to see a screen; he could feel the System's approval, a psychic weight shifting within him.
------
Task Complete: Survive the Encounter.
Reward: 250 Points.
------
He closed his eyes and focused on the Grimoire of Fire Magic tucked into his belt. He realized he didn't just want to survive; he wanted to understand. He willed the System to exchange his hard-earned points for Mastery.
A surge of warmth, far more pleasant than the Jotunn fluid, flowed through his consciousness. Suddenly, the complex, swirling runes in his Grimoire—once just ink on paper—began to pulse with meaning. He didn't just see the fire; he understood the flow of the heat, the way to condense the flame into a spear rather than a burst, and how to fuel it with less effort.
He looked at his hands. A small ember danced between his fingers, obedient and lethal.
"I have the book, and now I have the instinct," Stephen whispered. He looked out into the dark trees where more glowing eyes were beginning to appear, drawn by the scent of his magic. "I'm in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by things that shouldn't exist here. But I'm not a victim anymore."
He stood up, the Heritage Sword feeling a little lighter. He needed to find shelter, but more importantly, he needed to find out why the Great Well was bleeding into this unclaimed land.