The blue-eyed young man wanted to argue with the hostile voice — his name wasn't Walker.
But when he opened his mouth, two things happened at once.
First, he realized he had control of his body again. The shock of it made him freeze mid-step and nearly stumble.
Second, he realized he couldn't remember his name at all. He wanted to argue with the voice but couldn't even come up with the counterpoint that was his own name.
Walker stopped walking, and the others from the caravan began to pass him by.
You have to understand that by this point, the convoy of survivors from the Capital had swelled well beyond the thousands of soldiers to now include tens of thousands of civilians. An entire train of wagons dedicated to pulling the elderly and infirm couldn't contain all the survivors, so many made the trek on foot.
He barely noticed, even when one person bumped into him. He closed his eyes — and saw something impossible.
Behind his eyelids he suddenly saw a grey world, colorless and indistinct.
He turned. Behind him, an enormous orange pillar of light that dwarfed everything else.
Everywhere nearby and surrounding the glowing pillar there were vague shapes. Among the shapes was a figure of composed of numerous polygons, moving with certainty and a presence that evoked a primal terror in him.
Looking at the pillar stirred a strange longing in Walker, deep and inexplicable.
A spoked wheel shot out from the polygonal figure and struck the pillar. The pillar remained untouched, but the wheel shattered into glittering particles that vanished instantly.
As they faded, Walker noticed a block of text etched into the pillar — impossibly tiny, yet suddenly glowing gold.
He didn't know the language, but he could read it anyway.
It was about him. His life. His true name. His personality, shaped by every experience he'd ever had.
He focused on the letters, just beginning to understand them, when something horrifying happened.
The characters began to vanish — erased at random.
As each one disappeared, Walker felt the memory tied to it slip away.
Letters vanished across the entire block, no pattern, no mercy.
What felt like an eternity ended in an instant. The remaining text reformed into a single, rewritten narrative:
—Walker Tonlevar, an orphaned Archer Scout from the destroyed kingdom of Rostovo, present when its king descended into madness and brought ruin upon the world. Walker is originally from Earth, another planet, and now finds himself trapped in the world of Korinn with no memory of where he came from—
A shudder ran through him at the memory of the king — a memory he shoved away as fast as it surfaced. Walker opened his eyes and drew a deep breath, trying to steady the rising hysteria.
Panicking wouldn't help.
Walker's eyes opened forcibly. Everything surrounding him was normal once more. The caravan, the soldiers, the civilians.
The light screen reappeared in front of him, and the voice returned, with its own brand of quiet menace.
[THERE. NO NEED TO WORRY ABOUT THE RESIDUE FROM EARTH, NOW. THAT LIFE IS GONE.]
[YOUR LIFE NOW IS SIMPLE. YOU ARE UNDER MY CONTROL. YOU CANNOT DEVIATE FROM YOUR COURSE, AND YOU WILL DELIVER WHAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN GIVEN DURING THE RITUAL.]
[FAILURE TO PERFORM ACCORDING TO MY EXPECTATIONS WILL RESULT IN ENFORCEMENT.]
Walker stumbled back into line, hobbling to match the pace. "What do you mean by enforcement? And what are your expectations? Are those the rules?"
Silence.
After a moment, he deliberately stopped walking.
[KEEP MOVING FORWARD, I WILL ACCEPT NO FURTHER DELAYS. DRASTIC STEPS WILL BE TAKEN]
Walker almost laughed — unsure whether the oppressive voice had just made that pun on purpose.
Shaking his head, he resumed walking, still stunned that he could control his body again.
He didn't test the voice further. The light screen faded.
Walker kept moving despite the burning pain in his feet. He tried to make sense of his situation, but nothing fit. Whatever was happening was beyond his understanding — and far beyond his control.
His psyche was still raw, scraped thin by the nightmares he'd witnessed the night before.
He was from Earth. He was not a citizen of a fictional kingdom in a mobile game.
And yet… here he was.
If this is a game, then why doesn't it feel like one? Everything looks real. Walker thought.
He glanced at the people around him. They were suffering too. The march dragged on, and most kept silent.
Occasionally a scrap of conversation drifted through the column, but it was always something mundane — nothing that helped.
As the hours crawled by, a slow dread pooled in Walker's gut. He couldn't explain it, but something was wrong.
The scenery barely changed: rural settlements, abandoned villages, homes left in a hurry.
Their pursuers had stopped, which he was grateful for, but his knees throbbed and his ankles were swelling.
His sense of time was warped, but eventually he realized it was still dark.
He couldn't be sure, but he guessed they'd been walking for more than a full day.
This is insane. Don't these people need rest?
He looked around. Everyone looked haggard — hollow‑eyed, dragging their feet.
Walker's stomach growled constantly, one of the few things keeping him from collapsing under the weight of his exhaustion.
More hours passed. By now, Walker was certain nothing would change unless he did something. It was suddenly somehow absurd to expect the world to suddenly move forward on its own.
By his best estimate, they'd been walking over forty-five hours with no breaks, no food, and no change in scenery.
It seemed that he could recall that in most games, the protagonist had to trigger an event or stumble into something to advance the plot — but he had no idea how to do that here. He couldn't even remember any good examples from Earth.
Except…Walker stopped walking. His burning legs and feet practically sighed in relief.
"What is the point of this? Can we get things moving?" he asked the sky.
No answer. He waited as people passed.
In boredom, he scanned the roadside and spotted a small cottage just off the highway. A fruit tree stood in the yard, heavy with many sizeable green fruits.
He ran toward it, examining it closely. Soon he stood underneath.
The fruits were pale green, pear‑like but more uniform, each shaped like a slightly rounded hexagon.
His pack — which held only a spare shirt — was quickly filled with the fruits.
On his way back, he lifted one to his nose. The rind smelled fresh and bright. He'd need to peel it guessing by the density of the fibrous rind.
He took his time. The rind came off easily, revealing green flesh threaded with faint golden fibers.
The scent was invigorating. The fruit was seedless, pit-less, and tasted even better than he expected. He grinned, closing his pack and slinging it back over his shoulder.
Stepping forward, his left boot met resistance — then suddenly gave way in an abruptly odd fashion.
His expression twisted, and he howled in sudden pain. Something sharp had stabbed into his foot through his boots!
Gritting his teeth, he lifted his boot and found a piece of metal embedded therein, wicked looking spikes arranged in a triangular-style.
A caltrop?
"These spikes actually form a tetrahedron, not a triangle. Meant for a damn horse." he hissed to himself as he pulled the spike from his foot, groaning after it was removed.
[CORRECT — GET BACK INTO FORMATION UNDER YOUR OWN WILL OR I SHALL FORCE YOU TO CONTINUE]
You're back. Wonderful, Walker thought dryly. "How the hell am I supposed to march like this?"
[YOUR FAULT, YOUR PROBLEM. THAT WAS A VERY SLIGHT CHASTISEMENT]
'Thanks', he thought bitterly.
At least the fruit had helped. Inexplicably, he felt far more energetic than he should have — the effect wildly outpacing expectations after hours of nothing. Even the canteen in his pack was now empty.
But with the new injury, things were nonetheless way worse than before. His speed was severely hampered as he tried to avoid putting weight on his injured foot.
The pain was awful. Embarrassing as it was to hobble and groan, no one mocked him. Most people passing him were too busy ignoring him or dealing with their own miseries.
'I need directions. A quest guide. A menu. Something.' Walker thought, exasperated.
A pleasant mechanical female voice suddenly chimed in, startling Walker immensely:
[Welcome,
Walker's eyes stung with relief.
A translucent light‑screen appeared before him as the voice continued:
[Available options are limited until
[Below are your current options:]
Quest Log – [Log]
Character Development – [Sheet]
World Map – [Map] (Locked)
Statistics – [Stats] (Limited)
{Additional options will unlock once prerequisites are met.}
'Log', Walker thought. Nothing happened.
He rolled his eyes. "Log."
The screen shifted, revealing three absurd objectives:
[ I. Forge your determination and body by traveling the massive world of Korinn to the neighboring kingdom of Cata Boral.
— Take two million steps (320,019 steps taken)
II. As an Archer Scout, your duties include reconnaissance, with emphasis on logistics and procurement through hunting and foraging.
Before that, reacquaint yourself with your noble weapon. Ammunition will not run out during this quest.
— Shoot 10,000 arrows (0 arrows shot)
III. Create the First Sphere within yourself.
— First Sphere Created]
Dumbstruck, Walker stared. How could he have taken so many steps and still be nowhere near the goal? The math didn't math — but there were too many unknowns to be sure.
The arrow quest was odd as well. While he didn't understand how his arrows wouldn't run out, he studied the quiver of 15 arrows he currently had and shrugged.
As for the third quest, to create a Sphere within himself? May as well ask a fish to fly to the moon.
After a moment, he said, "Sheet."
A small window appeared:
Human with CoA Bloodline (0.7%)
Archer Scout of Rostovo
Skills: n/a
Magic Mastery: n/a
Traits: Unknown
Special: [ACTIVE!] — no description available
Walker frowned at the truly unimpressive character sheet.