The sun had begun to set, painting the horizon in a fading crimson glow.
The forest was quiet — too quiet.
Only the soft rustle of leaves followed Ayzek as he moved along the riverbank, the light of dusk reflecting off his armor like dying embers.
He crouched beside the water and dipped his hand in.
It was cold, yet… strangely alive.
A faint shimmer rippled across the surface, like mana — though he couldn't sense mana at all.
That was the strange part.
He didn't have the ability to feel or manipulate magic.
All his powers came from Titles, passive skills tied to his past life — nothing more.
Still, that feeling was familiar…
"It's the same as when I met that water spirit," he thought to himself.
A connection without mana, but through something deeper — resonance.
The sound of rushing water grew louder.
A faint light began to form over the stream, swirling into the shape of a woman.
Her body shimmered like glass, her hair flowing like liquid sapphire.
She was small — almost childlike — but her eyes carried the calmness of centuries.
> "Human," she said, her voice rippling like soft rain.
"Few can hear the river's voice. How did you find me?"
Ayzek looked at her in silence.
For a moment, he wasn't sure how to answer.
> "I didn't," he said finally. "You found me."
The spirit tilted her head slightly, smiling.
> "Strange words… yet true. You do not carry mana, and yet your essence hums like it. You are… misplaced."
> "That's one way to put it," Ayzek muttered, standing.
For a while, they talked — or rather, exchanged fragments of understanding.
She told him her name was Naeva, guardian of this river, bound to it since the birth of the continent.
Ayzek didn't know why, but he felt… calm around her.
When the time came to part, Naeva drifted back toward the current.
> "The world is vast," she said softly.
"But its balance is fragile. Remember that, traveler."
Her voice faded into the sound of flowing water,
and the river returned to stillness — as if she had never been there.
Ayzek stood for a moment longer, staring at his reflection.
He couldn't shake the feeling that something had just shifted —
not in the world, but within himself.
Then he turned toward the horizon.
The lights of the city flickered faintly in the distance.
It was time to return.
---
When he reached the gates, night had already fallen.
Guards stopped him briefly, but a flash of his Guild Card was enough.
They stepped aside immediately — his completion record was still fresh in the system.
The streets of the city were quieter than he remembered.
He could hear the faint music of a tavern nearby, the chatter of adventurers, the clinking of armor.
Everything felt normal — almost too normal.
Ayzek walked straight to the Guild, submitted his proof of the hobgoblin kills,
and watched as the receptionist's eyes widened at the sight of them.
> "Hobgoblins? From a new recruit?"
She quickly recorded the report and increased his adventurer rank on the spot.
Ayzek said nothing — only nodded — and left.
From there, his path led him back to the blacksmith's shop.
Inside, the rhythmic pounding of metal echoed from behind the forge.
Ulf, the blacksmith's son, greeted him with a grin.
> "Welcome back! Your weapon's complete — father worked hard on it. It's stored safely in the back."
"He also said… if you ever come across materials like those again, bring them to us. No charge this time."
Ayzek inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment.
> "Understood."
He turned toward the door, the faint orange light of the forge glowing behind him.
Outside, the city felt alive — but he knew better.
Something about this world was shifting, evolving, as if the code of reality itself was rewriting piece by piece.
And Ayzek — the outsider, the misplaced warrior — was standing in the middle of it.