The muzzle of the M4 rifle lit up the dark, cutting through the night for a split second. Each shot cracked sharply, the rhythm violent enough to make Leo's teeth rattle. He flinched, clutching his ears. Down in the shadows, he heard these strange, shrill shrieks—definitely not human, definitely not animal. It wasn't anything like the deep roar of the giant wolf from yesterday; these noises were quicker, sharper, as if something small and fragile was getting hit hard.
Private 001 stood firm, unmoving, only rotating his torso back and forth like a machine, eyes locked on his sights. Another burst rang out—three rounds, but they blurred into what felt like a single, long growl. Leo forced himself near the ledge, heart pounding so fast he wondered if it might crack open his ribs. Under an odd glow from two weird moons—the big pale one and the smaller angry red—he finally saw them. Not wolves this time, but creatures barely three feet tall, limbed so spindly they looked like weeds, their skin slick and green as wet moss. Goblins, or something close enough to call them that.
One was halfway up the slope, claws locked into the rock, but now slumping, a dark patch spreading across its chest. Two others tried to flee, ears flapping wildly as they darted for the underbrush, but 001 tracked them with chilling precision. Two more shots, two more bodies dropped. Silence flooded back in, broken only by the ringing in Leo's ears that buzzed like a stubborn fly. 001 stayed on one knee, rifle aimed steady at the darkness, head moving like a camera scanning for hidden targets.
"Are they gone?" Leo whispered, his voice barely a squeak in the wide cold night. 001 nudged the safety with an abrupt click.
"Five targets neutralized, sir," he replied. His tone was flat, formal, like he was reporting tomorrow's weather. "Area is clear. No heat signatures remaining."
Leo exhaled, shaky and loud, and collapsed onto his sleeping bag. His legs felt heavy, almost dead. Five living things gone in seconds. Back home, the most dangerous thing he'd seen was a hallway fistfight—nothing like this. Here, under an alien sky, violence wasn't just an option; it was what kept him breathing. If 001 hadn't fired, those goblins would've crawled right in and torn him apart.
Right then, the soft pulse of the system trembled in the back of his mind. A blue screen blinked to life, practically hovering in the air: [Combat Engagement Successful. 5x Lesser Goblins eliminated. Reward: 25 Points.]
Leo checked his total: [Points: 60]. He felt a weird surge—maybe relief, maybe adrenaline. The system reminded him of the video games he'd played to kill time at school, except now the stakes were brutal. Survival was his new currency.
He glanced at 001, who'd already returned to the edge, eyes deep in the dark, as if nothing had happened.
"You should try to rest, sir," 001 said, not even turning around. "I will maintain watch. We march at dawn."
Leo wanted to protest—his nerves were screaming, sleep felt impossible—but the exhaustion finally pulled him under. He zipped himself into the little tent he'd summoned earlier, grateful for the tiny bubble of safety. The only reason he managed to keep his eyes shut was knowing 001 was standing just outside, rifle ready. His thoughts wandered to his parents, his messy desk back in history class, a doodle he'd left behind. All of it felt so far away, almost like someone else's memories.
In the morning, Leo woke up stiff, aching, the air heavy and sticky. The yellow light on the tent suggested sunrise, though it felt different—not quite right. When he dragged himself out, the forest had transformed—gone were the lurking shadows, replaced by wild colors and leaves he'd never seen before. 001 hadn't budged from his post, still looking all business.
"Good morning, sir," 001 said. "Perimeter was secure. I recommend rations, then departure. Smoke is visible to the west."
Leo wiped the sleep from his eyes, spotted the thin line of smoke rising beyond the trees, and yanked his system menu open. He still had the MRE from last night. He wolfed down crackers, watched 001 pack up the tent in record time.
Unlike video games, Leo noticed, the tent and sleeping bag didn't disappear—they stayed real, heavy, solid. 001 strapped them to his own pack, not even breaking stride. Leo felt almost ashamed. He was eighteen, supposed to be finishing school, not relying on a nameless soldier for everything. He brushed off his jeans, tried to shake off the guilt.
"Okay, 001. Let's go. Lead us to the village."
001 checked his rifle one last time, nodded, and moved out. The hike chewed up the morning. No trail, just fighting through thick vines and climbing massive logs, each step dragging Leo deeper into the unforgiving wild. The heat climbed; his hoodie became a sweat trap. He tied it around his waist and kept pace. Every time a bird cried or leaves shifted, Leo nearly clung to the back of 001's vest, desperate for reassurance. The soldier kept moving like a ghost, boots barely making a sound, scanning with his gun always low, always ready.
Leo messed around with the system menu as they hiked, screen floating on the edge of his vision. [Infantry] tab: 60 points. Another basic soldier would cost 50. He paused. More protection sounded tempting, someone else to talk to, but those points might not come easy. He peeked at [Armory]. A pistol? 30 points. That seemed smart. If something happened to 001, he needed another weapon.
"001, if I buy a gun, will you teach me?" Leo asked.
"Instruction in firearm safety and marksmanship is within my programming, sir," 001 replied. "But I recommend focusing on your surroundings. We're almost at the forest's edge."
Leo looked ahead—the trees were thinning, ground flattening, earthy smells fading, replaced by woodsmoke and something farm-like. They pushed through a curtain of tall ferns and finally stopped. The world opened up into a bright meadow. In the middle, maybe a mile out, he saw the village.
It didn't look like any village from home. It was pure fantasy: tiny houses built from wood and stone, topped with thatched roofs. A big wooden fence circled everything—a palisade, Leo thought. Beyond it, fields spread out and tiny shapes moved about.
"Is that it?" Leo asked, excitement mixing with nerves. He felt hope and stomach-tightening dread at the same time.
001 scanned with binoculars. "Confirmed, sir. A pre-industrial settlement. I count around forty structures. There are armed individuals at the gate."
Leo took a deep breath. "Alright. Let's go talk to them. Maybe they'll help me get home."
He set off for the village, heart skipping for the first time in days. He was so focused on finding other people, he didn't even wonder how they'd react. Closer in, villagers spotted them. A woman, arms full of vegetables, froze and dropped her basket, scattering tubers in the dirt. She stared—not at Leo—but at 001.
To her, Leo probably looked like some weird kid in odd clothes. But 001? He looked nothing like anyone in their world. Camouflage uniform, black assault rifle, helmet, and that blank, unreadable face—he resembled a demon or a knight made out of metal, straight from nightmares. The woman shrieked and bolted for the gate.
"Monsters! Monsters from the woods!" she screamed.
Leo jerked to a halt. "Wait! We're not monsters!" he yelled, but the alarm was already going. A bell clanged inside the palisade, wild and urgent, birds scattering from the trees. People in the fields dropped everything and ran for the gate, terror in their eyes. The rifle in 001's hands drew their gaze like a cursed artifact.
The warm welcome Leo had hoped for was gone. Fear wrapped around him. He glanced at 001, who moved from calm to combat-ready in an instant. His posture sharpened, every muscle tight.
"Sir, hostilities detected from locals," 001 reported quietly. "I suggest we halt and assess."
Leo nodded fast. "Yeah. Stop here!"
They stopped, only fifty yards from the gate. The big doors slammed shut, but not before a handful of men stepped out. Not just farmers—these guys were armored, carrying spears tipped with iron, wearing leather tunics. Their faces looked hard, determined. A tall man with a gray beard led them, shield in one hand, spear in the other. He barked, and his men formed a semicircle, spears raised at Leo and 001, sunlight flashing off the points.
"Stay back, beasts!" the leader shouted, voice trembling but fierce. "Whatever magic you used won't work here! Leave now!"
Leo raised his hands, palms open, hoping to look harmless. "We don't want to fight! My name's Leo! I'm lost—I need help!"
Nobody lowered their weapons. Eyes flicked from Leo to 001, who stood so still, so cold, the rifle glinting in the sun. One younger guard stepped forward, pointing at 001. "What is that thing?" he hissed. "Is it a golem? A hollow man?"
Leo looked at 001—maybe a miracle could happen, maybe the soldier could explain everything away, but that's not how he was built. 001 was designed for protection, not diplomacy. Faced with aggression, he did what he always did: action, fast and sharp. In a blink, he raised his rifle, aimed right at the chest of the leader, safety off in a loud, deliberate click.
"Non-combatants, lower your weapons immediately," 001 said, his voice icy, robotic. "You are threatening the Commander. Any further aggression will be met with lethal force."
The guards recoiled, shocked. Some jumped back, others tightened grips, especially the leader—his knuckles turned white around the shield. The word "Commander" struck him; he knew the title, but never expected to hear it from a boy with blue trousers and a living statue. He recognized the threat staring him down.
Leo's heart nearly stopped. He looked from the pointed spears to the rifle, to the villagers peering over the fence, terrified. This was spiraling out of control. He'd come looking for help, not a fight, certainly not a war. But as he watched 001's steady arms and the hard edges of the spears, he realized he couldn't pretend he was just a kid anymore. He was a Commander, and the next ten seconds were about to decide everything—who lived, who died, and what happened next.