How many minutes have passed, but there has been no change at all.
His hands are starting to feel stiff.
The wood, which should show marks from the sharp flint, keeps doing something strange.
When struck for the first time, the wood shows marks, but then they disappear again as if nothing happened.
It's like an endless loop and reset.
This is truly a strange world.
Rain had truly been thrown into a foreign world.
Once again, he stopped and began to stare at his hands. They had turned red and showed the marks of his unsuccessful efforts.
After that, he looked back at the tree in front of him, which was not much different from the other trees.
Perhaps there were certain rules that had to be followed to get through this.
Yes, maybe there was some kind of tutorial.
Stories and games usually included that, right?
Even though he no longer played like most children or teenagers.
But he believed that the tree, or more precisely the wood in front of him, was the first step of the tutorial.
His instinct told him so!
And once again he tried, in a better way.
Previously, he had swung the flint in his hand to damage the wood indiscriminately.
This time he decided to do it at one point.
After all, it was basic knowledge that damaging something faster at one center was the way to go.
He would be so fucking mad if this didn't work.
And he did so with full determination.
His spirit and movements were now in coordination.
With a cross-handed swing, he brought the sharpness of the flint to one point.
Slowly but surely, a small piece of wood splintered off.
The splinter grew larger but was limited to a cube shape like other objects.
But he remained focused and tried not to lose momentum in doing this.
His efforts did not disappoint. It was an immediate small miracle for him, who was trying to cut or whatever you call it into a tree for the first time.
A pop.
A small piece resembling a log dropped on top of the grass.
Followed by another sound of a tree falling.
Still in a slightly shocked and silent state, the remaining cut part slowly fell towards his body.
With a reflexive movement, Rain dodged to the side while falling on his butt.
He blinked several times, and there were several similar yet distinct items hovering above the grass.
Wood logs, a couple of sticks, branches, and an apple.
"Ahaha, I guess I'm totally in some kind of game world."
Those are the typical things for beginners, right?
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In a distant, untouched land.
A land characterized by barrenness and erosion by time.
A harsh wind blows fiercely through the towering dry valley.
The surface shows signs of change over time that has altered almost the entire landscape.
But far below the surface is a completely different story.
Rocks that were once tightly packed together are slowly showing gaps between them.
These small holes are further eroded by water and time, creating a collection of dark, aimless caves.
Sharp rocks sometimes form certain auras, leaving silent witnesses to all these changes.
In stark contrast to the surface of the desert and the dry, barren land, deep underground, a cold and dark atmosphere envelops almost every side.
The sound of dripping water echoes continuously, as do the soft whispers of nocturnal animals.
But one of the greatest secrets in this world lies within that region.
A large and artistic door.
A door to one of the dungeons, untouched and untold.
Only a few know about it, but only a handful of them dare to enter it.
A dungeon full of deadly and dubious puzzles.
This dungeon never sleeps.
Unlike the green roots that should have grown, they are replaced by dark red veins that glow along the walls of the dungeon, leading to the final point of the dungeon.
A throne located far at the end of the dungeon is filled with soft, echoing, unanswered voices.
Sitting on the throne is a woman in magnificent red clothing, her silver hair flowing like moonlight, shrouded in darkness and unable to see her own elegance.
The torches around her throne had long since burned out, but the air still blew softly around her. Several times in a few minutes, the veins on the walls would light up, signaling a presence, and she would look up, hoping to see the figure she was waiting for.
No one came.
"Another cycle... another silence. Even the echo starts to fade my conviction away."
Her voice trembled slightly, not from fear—but from exhaustion.
She leaned back against the throne, her fingers brushing the cold armrest, engraved with several runes whose meaning she did not know.
But the woman knew as if someone had taught her.
"Light," she murmured.
But unlike reality, only darkness always accompanied her in that place.
She raised both hands, and a single mote of pale radiance bloomed above her palm. It fluttered here and there like a firefly.
The light illuminated the jagged sky, scattering into tiny crystal shards.
"Still, you can stay with me. You'll never leave me, right?"
The glow flickered.
For a moment, her expression and mood softened—sad, almost childlike.
Then, a vibration suddenly spread through the air.
The walls groaned. The vibration reached the throne—weak and fleeting, but enough to make all the veins of light sparkle with life for a moment.
Her deep red eyes widened.
"A ripple?"
She rose slowly, her magnificent gown rustling lightly across the floor.
"No, it's not time yet. Although it's been too long..."
She stepped forward, her bare feet touching the veins of light, each step awakening a faint humming sound underground.
"Someone has just entered the world. Another wanderer, perhaps. Another soul trapped in prison."
She tilted her head back, as if listening to a melody from afar.
"Will it be another fool chasing glory? Or..."
She stopped mid-sentence, closing her eyes. Replaced by a breath from her lips that dared not end it.
"Or the one who finally reaches me."
The light in her hand flickered and dimmed again.
She stared at it, then clenched his fist, absorbing it back into himself.
Her wings—black and thin, like silk in the middle of the night—spread out behind him, and for a moment, the room glowed red.
"I believe this world will look so beautiful and continue to wait for someone's presence. Because dreams... are not eternal."
She sat back down on the throne, his eyes half-closed.
As the light slowly faded, darkness enveloped the throne room again, followed by the little prayer he said every night before going to sleep.
"Oh God, show the way—to those who deserve it, before this dream ends."
She was one of the people trapped in a scenario.
A grand scenario that must be discovered by anyone lucky enough to be out there.
And in another place far above the dungeon, the figure in question was busy figuring out how to use wood as a tool.