Adam had decided that his best option was to head toward the small flickering light that was illuminating through cracks between the trees.
"I don't know what might be over there, but it's my best option to find out what is going on."
Adam moved slowly toward the light, each step cautious and deliberate. The forest around him was eerily silent, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant call of a night creature. He gently split apart the tree branches in front of him, revealing the source of the light.
In the distance, around seventy yards away, Adam could see a massive group of people—around a hundred strong, gathered in a clearing.
"Wait, are those people?" he whispered to himself, narrowing his eyes.
Wanting a better view, Adam carefully moved through the trees before hiding behind a thick bush about forty yards away from the group. He crouched low, brushing aside a few leaves for a clearer line of sight.
"Now let's see who those people are."
Looking around the side of the bush, Adam could see several camps. There were tents scattered everywhere and multiple fireplaces set up, their flames flickering and casting long shadows. Some people were laughing, others sleeping, and some quietly eating their meals—much like any ordinary camp. But one thing stood out sharply: every single person in the camp wore armor. Not just bits and pieces, but full sets ranging from leather to steel.
"Are they doing some weird cosplay? I guess I should go ask them where I am, but they look like weirdos."
Despite his reluctance and growing unease, Adam made a decision. He would approach them and ask for help or at least some idea of where he was.
Stepping out of the bush, Adam slowly walked toward the camp. The tension in the air thickened with each step. Nobody noticed him at first, but a middle-aged man near the perimeter, likely a lookout, spotted Adam and immediately locked eyes with him.
When Adam saw the man watching him, he froze in place, his heart pounding.
What do I do? Should I try to speak with him? Adam forced himself to try.
"Hello, sir. Can you tell me where we are?"
The man's expression tightened as he opened his mouth and yelled something—but Adam didn't recognize a single word.
"What is he yelling? I don't understand."
The loud shout drew everyone's attention. The entire camp turned their heads toward the lookout and saw a young boy standing alone. The tension escalated.
Why are they all looking at me like that?
Several people unsheathed their weapons, pointing blades toward Adam. Instinctively, he raised his hands and dropped to his knees, trying to show he meant no harm.
The people remained tense, but upon seeing that Adam was just a kid with no weapons, they slowly began to lower their guard. A group of them approached cautiously.
The first to reach Adam was a tall man with blond hair and eyes. His hair was cut short, almost like a buzz cut, and his jawline was sharp and refined. He wore full armor and moved with measured grace. Standing in front of Adam, he gave him a look filled with confusion and a hint of sympathy.
"Hello, dude. Why are you staring at me?" Adam asked hesitantly but received no answer.
The man studied him a moment longer, then raised a hand. The gesture prompted the rest of the group to sheath their weapons and return to what they were doing.
Now only the blond man remained in front of Adam.
"Umm, excuse me. Who are you?" Adam tried again, and again he was met with silence.
"Писарак, чаро ту дар ин ҷо ҳастӣ ва падару модарат куҷоянд?" the man said.
I don't understand what language this guy is speaking. It's so frustrating.
"Dude, I don't understand what you're saying," Adam responded.
The two looked at each other, both equally perplexed. After a few awkward seconds, the man motioned toward a large black tent about fifty feet away, situated at the camp's center.
Adam nodded in agreement.
The man turned and walked toward the tent, and Adam followed closely behind. As they passed people sparring, chatting, or eating, Adam felt countless pairs of eyes locked onto him—suspicious, judging, hostile.
When they reached the tent, the man pulled aside the thick cloth that served as a door and held it open, motioning for Adam to enter.
Adam hesitated but knew he had little choice. He stepped inside. The tent was small and sparsely furnished, with just enough room for a simple bed, a small storage crate beside it, and a couple of wooden stools.
The man gestured for Adam to sit and rest. Adam raised an eyebrow.
Is this guy trying to...? No, no way. That's messed up.
Still, Adam sat on the edge of the bed, unsure of what would happen next.
The man walked to the crate and began rummaging through it until he pulled out a cylindrical tube.
"What is that thing?" Adam asked aloud.
As if sensing his curiosity, the man said, "Ин харита аст. Кӯдак, нишон деҳ, ки шумо дар куҷо зиндагӣ мекунед?"
He opened the cylinder, revealing a rolled-up piece of parchment.
What is that? Adam wondered. As it unfurled, he recognized it—a map.
The man pointed at various regions marked on the map and then gestured at Adam, clearly trying to find out where he was from.
He wants me to show him where I came from. Clever guy.
Adam scanned the map, his confusion deepening.
This isn't right. Where's the United States? Where are the seven continents? This map shows nine, and I can't read a single name.
He shook his head at the man. But then an idea sparked.
What if I draw Earth's map? That might help.
Adam raised one hand palm-up and mimed writing with the other, hoping the man would understand.
It took a few moments, but the man eventually caught on. He nodded, then left the tent.
At least he's calm and not like those other glaring weirdos.
After several minutes, the blond man returned with a jar of black liquid, a sheet of parchment, and a quill.
Sitting down again, he dipped the quill in ink and handed the supplies to Adam, who nodded his thanks.
Adam wasn't a great artist, but he didn't need precision. After five minutes of drawing, he handed over a crude map of Earth.
Though blotchy and ink-heavy in places, it was still recognizable.
The man studied it carefully. His eyebrows furrowed as he glanced back at Adam with a bewildered expression.
I think I'm in another world. He clearly doesn't recognize anything I drew.
Adam pointed to the United States and then at himself.
This is the best I can do.
The man looked frustrated. He ruffled his hair, sighed, and stood. Gathering the paper, quill, and ink, he exited the tent.
Why did he look so irritated? Is he going to torture me or something?
Adam stood up and began pacing, anxiety gnawing at him.
What do I do now? I'm in a strange place, surrounded by strangers, and I can't understand anyone.
His gaze fell on the chest near the bed.
Curiosity took over.
He opened the latch and lifted the lid.
Inside were neatly folded clothes, a small sheathed dagger resting atop them. On the other side was a hand mirror, shaped like a racket, along with a few random trinkets.
Intrigued, Adam picked up the mirror and raised it to his face.
Then he froze.
"Whattt..."
In the reflection, he saw another person staring back at him—someone who wasn't him.