The system notification vanished, and Karl felt the passage tremble slightly, as if he had passed through some barrier or boundary. In the next second, the seven-coloured light enveloping his body suddenly dispersed, and he stood firmly on the ground.
Sunlight streamed onto Karl's face as he stood on the rolling green slopes, the grass reaching his ankles and swaying in the wind. The air was filled with the fresh scent of earth and plants, a stark contrast to the dead silence of the starry sky just moments ago. But he immediately sensed something was wrong; the "texture" of the sunlight was distorted, and it was insufficient.
"New world," Karl muttered to himself, his super senses sharpened to their limit, his field of vision stretching for several kilometres.
He saw the first settlement of intelligent life, located not on the ground, but beneath it. Round doorways opened into the hillsides, like open eyes of the earth. Winding paths led from gate to gate, connecting to entrances on other hills. He looked in another direction, where there was an open space, unusually lively. It was an open-air market, with many short, stocky people moving between the stalls. Typically, they were only about 1.1 to 1.2 metres tall, wearing clothes made of coarse cloth or leather. None wore shoes; their large feet trod directly into the mud, making almost no sound as they walked.
The architectural style, clothing fashions, and even the tools displayed on some stalls — all of it resembled the medieval level of the magical world.
"Underground dwellers? Dwarves?" Karl raised an eyebrow, his biokinetic field concealing his form. He soared into the sky and flew toward the market, carefully listening to the sounds below.
This language was unfamiliar to him; the pronunciation was rough, with many guttural sounds and plosive consonants, unlike any other language he knew. But this did not confuse him. Karl hovered above the market, his super hearing picking up every snippet of conversation, his super vision tracking gestures and gazes. His brain analysed speech patterns, the correspondence between words and objects, grammatical structures, and so on.
---
A minute later, he landed in a grove of trees beyond the market, deactivated his forcefield, and adjusted his clothing. He was still dressed in his everyday clothes, but using the forcefield, he had transformed them into a witcher's attire.
As he walked along the dirt road toward the market, a dwarf soon came into view. The dwarf appeared quite young and had no beard. He carried two struggling river fish in one hand, humming an unfamiliar tune, and was heading toward a small cottage on the hillside by the road.
As they approached, the dwarf looked at Karl with surprise, curiosity and wariness in his eyes.
"This man is so tall... almost as tall as a cave giant," the dwarf muttered to himself. "He's dressed strangely, not like a traveller, but more like a mercenary... Maybe he's from the south?"
By this time, Karl had already grasped basic vocabulary. He smiled amiably and, with a noticeable accent, spoke in the newly learned language: "Greetings, sir."
The dwarf was stunned, clearly not expecting this "little giant" to speak their language. He hesitated for a moment, then politely nodded in return: "Greetings."
With that, he turned and pushed open the gate. Karl stepped forward, maintaining a safe distance, and said as gently as possible: "Sir, would you mind doing me a favour?"
The dwarf paused, his fingers unconsciously tightening on the fishing line, an instinctive wariness toward strangers on his face. Karl was prepared; he took a coin from his pocket. Earlier, he had seen several people drop things from the sky over the market. Manipulating his forcefield to silently drop the coin into his hand had proven very useful. The coin arced through the air and was instinctively caught by the dwarf.
It was a silver coin. The dwarf's eyes lit up, and he ran his fingers along the coin's edge. The hesitation on his face gradually turned into a smile.
"Of course, I'd be happy to help!" the dwarf replied warmly. "Honoured sir, what difficulties have you encountered? Are you lost? Or do you need a place to stay?"
Karl kept his smile, quickly organising his newly learned words: "I am a traveller from afar, and this is my first time on this land."
"May I ask you a few... elementary questions? For example, what is this place called?"
"This is the home of hobbits; we call it the Shire," the dwarf said proudly, puffing out his chest.
When the young "dwarf" explained that he was actually a halfling — more precisely, a hobbit — Karl remained outwardly calm, but inwardly he was in turmoil. No wonder he had no beard and was barefoot; he remembered the halflings he had seen in the magical world. Despite their short stature, these little creatures imitated human clothing and appearance. Especially footwear; they always considered wearing leather boots a sign of propriety. The hobbits before him were clearly closer to the earth: their large feet were covered in thick calluses, making walking on gravel feel like walking on level ground.
"This is the Shire, the home of hobbits." The dwarf — no, now he should be called Bilbo Baggins — proudly declared: "To the east is Buckland, to the west are the Far Downs, and to the south..."
He spoke at length, clearly demonstrating a deep attachment to the land where he had grown up. Listening, Karl rapidly processed the information in his mind.
The Shire, hobbits, Middle-earth... He had arrived in Middle-earth.
Karl was stunned; his super abilities had already begun to work. During his earlier short flight, he had already collected enough speech samples. Now, through direct conversation with Bilbo, these scattered words and grammatical structures were quickly corrected and organised. All his subtle adjustments to pronunciation — including tongue position and lip shape — were aimed at matching the local accent. By the end of the conversation, Karl's accent had become indistinguishable from Bilbo's, and his pronunciation of some words was even more standard. He had casually noticed this — the speech habits of several elderly hobbits.
Bilbo was not surprised by the change in Karl's accent. After all, in his view, this tall traveller had clearly been to many places. It was perfectly normal that the other party had met all sorts of people and spoke with different accents. Now that he could pronounce it correctly, he seemed to have found the "right" way to say it.
"So, Mr. Karl, where are you from?" Bilbo asked politely, curiously examining Karl's elegant, mercenary-style clothing.
Karl smiled, and his pre-prepared answer came out: "I come from a place called Terra, which is... quite far from here."
"I am an adventurer and a witcher. If you encounter difficulties that require strength to resolve, remember to seek me out."
Bilbo blinked. The word "witcher" was uncommon in the Shire, but it sounded like the name of some mercenary or guard. The conversation ended in a friendly atmosphere, and out of hobbit hospitality, Bilbo kindly invited Karl to dinner at Bag End. This was a common pleasantry; strangers meeting for the first time usually did not accept the invitation.
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