Chapter 6
Written by Bayzo Albion
In less than an hour of meandering through the woods, my playful experiments giving way to a more purposeful stride, I stumbled upon a thriving village. Neat houses lined the path, their thatched roofs and sturdy stone walls evoking a quaint, medieval charm that felt both nostalgic and fantastical. Thin streams of smoke curled from chimneys, carrying the inviting aroma of baking bread and roasting meats. Dogs barked somewhere in the distance, their voices a chorus of watchful energy, and faint laughter drifted over the rooftops—the sound of life in full swing, a community buzzing with everyday joys and routines.
A shame I was still completely naked, my skin exposed to the elements without a shred of modesty. Then again, what was there to be embarrassed about? I was the rightful master of this world, its creator and sovereign. If anyone had a problem with it… well, they could go and create their own realm, far from my domain.
The settlement was surrounded by trees unlike any I'd ever seen—fairy-tale trees that seemed plucked from the pages of ancient myths. Their trunks were smooth and pale as bone, etched with subtle veins that pulsed with inner life, and their branches glowing with a soft inner light, as if pure magic flowed through them like sap. From those branches shimmered a vast protective barrier, a translucent dome that wavered in the air like the surface of water disturbed by a gentle ripple. It sealed the entire village off from the forest, a shimmering veil that promised safety within and mystery without.
I pressed my palm against it, feeling a subtle hum of energy vibrate through my fingers, but the light refused me, solid and unyielding. No casual trespassing; entry would have to be earned, a puzzle to solve in this game of my own making.
So I circled the perimeter, my bare feet padding softly on the forest floor, scanning for weakness, some overlooked seam in the magical weave. After several minutes of wandering, the barrier's glow reflecting off my skin in ethereal patterns, it became clear: there was no back door, no secret passage for the clever intruder. If I wanted in, I'd have to go through the front, facing whatever guardians or trials awaited.
And then luck turned, a fortunate twist in the path of fate. The forest trail bent sharply, and there before me stood massive gates of heavy timber, carved with runes that pulsed faintly in the air like living tattoos. They weren't mere decoration—I could feel their weight, their vigilance, an aura of ancient power that thrummed with protective intent.
Grinning, I broke into a run toward them, my heart pounding with exhilaration. At last, the world was offering me something that felt like a challenge, a spark of conflict to ignite the adventure.
My run was utterly naked, carried by a grin I couldn't suppress, the wind whipping against my skin like an encouraging ally. To anyone watching, the sight must have been absurd, maybe even offensive—a wild man charging forth without shame—but to me, it was pure. Happiness, unfiltered. Freedom, absolute, unburdened by societal norms or self-doubt.
Up ahead, two guards came into view, their silhouettes sharpening as I approached. Their expressions hardened the instant they saw me, their eyes brimming with disapproval, brows furrowing in a mix of confusion and stern authority.
At the gates stood two guards—grim, broad-shouldered men clad in plain but sturdy armor, the metal plates dented from past skirmishes, speaking of a life on the edge of danger. One leaned on a halberd, its blade glinting menacingly in the sunlight, while the other gripped a mace, its spiked head a promise of swift retribution. Both watched me with hawk-like attention, their gazes tracking every twitch I made from ten paces out, assessing the threat—or lack thereof—in my unconventional approach.
"Help! Thieves! I've been robbed!" I shouted, flailing my arms wildly and plastering a mask of desperation across my face, channeling every ounce of theatrical flair I could muster.
They tensed, rushing forward at once, their boots thudding against the packed earth, weapons at the ready. But the moment I caught a clear look at their faces—rough, bearded, and decidedly masculine—my excitement fizzled out like a doused flame.
What the hell?! I was counting on hot lady-knights, armored amazons with flowing hair and piercing eyes, not these sweaty brutes straight out of a tavern brawl! I grumbled inwardly, disappointment twisting in my gut.
"Are you all right? Were you injured?" one asked, bending toward me with genuine concern, his voice gruff but laced with a hint of empathy, as if he'd seen his share of wayward souls.
"I barely escaped a bandit ambush," I replied with exaggerated tragedy, clutching at my chest dramatically. "They took everything! My money, my armor… and it wasn't just any armor, mind you. Top of the line! Elite equipment forged in the fires of legend!"
"I'm sorry to hear that," said the second, his lips twitching as if suppressing a smirk, his eyes twinkling with barely concealed amusement at my plight. "But there's nothing we can do. Rules are rules—no exceptions, even for the unfortunate."
"And what am I supposed to do now?!" I threw up my hands, painting myself as a portrait of despair, my voice rising in mock indignation.
He only shrugged, a casual roll of his armored shoulders, then let his eyes drop to the crude wooden sword in my hand. A faint glimmer of amusement crossed his face as he said—
"Well… if you want to enter the village," the guard drawled, his tone dripping with opportunistic slyness, "instead of paying the toll, we could take that weapon. It's a fair enough trade, wouldn't you say?"
I narrowed my eyes, suspicion flaring as I caught the undercurrent in his words. The way he stared at the sword—hungry, covetous—wasn't that of a noble protector upholding justice. It was the gaze of a beggar eyeing the last slice of pie, or a thief spotting an easy mark.
You bastard… I'm the god of this world! And you—you're nothing but cheap shampoo in a tin can, a minor NPC daring to challenge the creator! Rage flared inside me, hot and indignant, but outwardly I kept my face composed, a mask of reluctant compliance. For now, I'd play along—let the game unfold.
"But this is all I have left!" I protested aloud, infusing my voice with mock despair, clutching the sword tighter as if it were my last lifeline.
"Rules are rules," the first intoned solemnly, his voice booming with feigned authority. He even struck his chest with a fist, the metal clanging dramatically, as though performing in some third-rate play for an audience of one. "We are guardians of law, and such is our duty, handed down through generations."
"Looks like I have no choice…" I sighed with theatrical weight, my shoulders slumping in exaggerated defeat, and reluctantly extended the wooden sword, holding it out like a sacrificial offering.
He snatched it with barely contained glee, his fingers closing around the hilt possessively, his mouth twitching toward a triumphant grin that revealed uneven teeth. At that same moment, the massive gates groaned and began to swing open, their runed surface parting with a deep, resonant creak to reveal the village within—a bustling tableau of cobblestone streets, colorful market stalls, and villagers going about their day.
"But before you step inside," the guard added sternly, locking eyes with me in a final show of dominance, "you must speak your true name. No aliases, no deceptions— the gates demand honesty."
I straightened my shoulders, bared my chest to the world with unapologetic pride, and declared with unshakable grandeur, my voice ringing out like a proclamation from on high:
"I am Gandalf of Rivia."
For a heartbeat, silence reigned, the air thick with anticipation. Both guards let their eyes drift from my face… to everything else, their gazes lingering with a mix of bewilderment and reluctant admiration.
"You're not lacking in courage, that's for sure," one of them muttered with a crooked grin, shaking his head in disbelief, a chuckle escaping despite his stern facade.
I stepped across the threshold—then froze as though rooted to the spot, the village's vibrant energy washing over me like a wave, promising untold adventures within its enchanted bounds.