A soft breeze drifts through the rows of berry bushes, carrying with it the scent of ripe fruit and freshly turned soil, sweet and earthy in equal measure.
The sun hangs high above, its golden light spilling across the orchard in warm, uninterrupted waves. Leaves glimmer faintly as they sway, and somewhere in the distance, a flock of birds takes to the sky in a flurry of wings.
A picturesque welcome to the world of Asteria.
Unfortunately for Asteria, the beautiful girl it is attempting to impress is currently in a highly dangerous situation.
A situation that will, in all likelihood, end in violence.
Naturally, I would be the one committing it.
The reason?
“Hey—hey hey hey! Where’d ya come from?! Why’s yer hair all sparkly like that!? Those clothes are real nice, where’d ya get ‘em?! Yer level’s crazy high—are ya an adventurer? Or maybe a mercenary?! Ooh, this is so excitin’! If ya fight, where’s yer weapon at? Do ya use vines or somethin’? How’d ya even get a purple class!? Ain’t never seen nothin’ like that before!”
Yes.
A truly life-threatening encounter.
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Experienced Farmer (Level 19 | Tier 1)
Race: Dogkin
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The man looks to be in his mid-twenties at most, and is unfortunately enormous. He stands a full head taller than me, built like someone who has spent his entire life hauling things that absolutely did not want to be hauled.
His hair and fur are a warm chestnut brown, currently decorated with a delightful mixture of grass, dirt, berry stains, and what I can only assume is the aftermath of a violent altercation with several highly suspicious fruits.
His eyes match.
This is information I have acquired under extreme duress.
Because his face is approximately three inches away from mine.
There are no laws in this world preventing personal space violations, apparently.
His hands are held just in front of his chest, fingers twitching with barely contained enthusiasm, and his tail is wagging with such aggressive velocity that it is actively disturbing the surrounding foliage and lightly fluttering my half-skirt.
I stare at him.
He stares at me.
I blink once.
Then I lean back, just enough to reestablish the concept of distance as a fundamental law of reality.
“…Hello.”
My tone is calm.
Mostly.
He immediately leans forward again.
My tail lashes once.
Sharply.
A warning shot.
His eyes snap to it, tracking the motion with alarming precision before he freezes, then carefully takes a full step back like someone who has just realized the stove is, in fact, on.
I blink again.
Ah.
So he understands Foxkin body language.
That is convenient.
And deeply inconvenient.
He clears his throat, posture straightening as he reins himself in.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Got a bit excited. Was real surprised when you just popped outta nowhere like that.”
He thumps a fist lightly against his chest.
“Name’s Rook. Nice ta meetcha.”
I nod, then offer a small, practiced curtsy.
“Lyn. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Hm.
He looks confused.
And mildly unsettled.
I tilt my head, one ear flicking idly to the side.
His gaze follows it again.
Fascinating.
“I was just surprised at yer way of talkin’,” he continues after a moment. “Kinda gives off human vibes, y’know?”
That seems… important.
I adjust slightly.
The mask shifts.
A touch more relaxed, a hint more warmth in the smile, just enough emotion in the eyes to soften the edges.
“Is that a bad thing?”
He squints at me.
Then at my ears.
Then back at my face.
His expression settles somewhere between curiosity and someone trying very hard not to ask at least twelve additional questions.
“…Nah,” he says slowly. “Just… wasn’t expectin’ it.”
A beat passes.
His tail starts wagging again.
Slower this time.
Controlled.
Progress.
Then his eyes light up anyway.
“Wait—so are ya actually an adventurer? ‘Cause that level ain’t normal, and I’ve definitely never seen a class like that before, and—”
I close my eyes for a brief moment.
Ah.
It’s happening again.
My ears snap to the side.
A sound.
Something is moving toward us at a respectable speed.
Not as fast as me, obviously, but at least above level twenty-five with a decent investment in Dexterity.
Naturally, I make full use of the distraction to thoroughly ignore Rook.
He continues speaking for a few more seconds before his ears lock onto it as well. It is a bit harder to tell, given how droopy they are, but the shift is there.
“Ah, that speed. Prolly the chief.”
“The chief?”
He nods.
“The village chief. Old guy, been around for a while. He’s the strongest outta all of us. Keeps the village safe from monsters.”
Interesting.
I suppose I am not surprised.
The beginner village chief personally welcoming the protagonist and giving out quests is a fairly common trope, and nothing in the universe is more powerful than narrative consistency.
Therefore, I make the most obvious decision possible.
I begin tapping my foot, patiently awaiting the chief’s dramatic arrival.
Ideally, this will include at least four ominous orchestral notes and a vaguely threatening line about trespassing and paying the price.
After far, far too long waiting—approximately two and a half seconds—he arrives, vaulting over the nearest row of berry bushes with the overall enthusiasm of a train barreling toward a minivan that has made several poor life choices.
He is, unsurprisingly, a Dogkin as well.
Also—
…?
When I heard “old,” I had expected someone a bit more… ancient.
Instead, the man who lands in front of me looks middle-aged at most. There are a few strands of grey in his hair, but overall, he appears far too healthy and energetic to qualify as properly elderly.
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Apprentice Water Blade (Level 38 | Tier 1)
Race: Dogkin
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He nods at Rook before his attention settles on me.
Hm.
I notice something immediately.
His gaze moves.
Not aimlessly—deliberately.
My mouth.
My hair.
My nose.
Rook, meanwhile, is far more committed to my ears, though he occasionally checks my mouth as well, as if verifying that I am, in fact, the one producing words.
Their eyes trace my face, my silhouette.
And yet—
They never meet my eyes.
Not once.
I tilt my head slightly, just enough to angle Rook’s line of sight upward.
His gaze drifts.
Not away in the normal sense.
It… slides.
Like it encountered something it would rather not acknowledge and politely chose a different direction instead.
Interesting.
Extremely interesting.
Further testing is required.
Preferably in a controlled environment with fewer witnesses and significantly more time.
Unfortunately, the chief has decided this is the moment to speak.
“Welcome to our village, traveller from another world. My name is Arlo. Nice ta meetcha.”
I blink.
Rook’s eyes widen beside him.
“Oh? So you are aware of my circumstances?”
He nods easily.
“Got a system quest. Said our village was picked as a ‘beginner village’ for newly integrated Beastkin from somethin’ called a tutorial. Wasn’t too detailed, but it told me ta give ya some work, help ya get started, earn some coin, that kinda thing. There was an announcement too.”
Incredible.
Flawless.
My prediction was, once again, perfectly accurate.
As expected of the most beautiful, humble prodigy in the universe.
My tail gives a small, dignified flick.
It is, unfortunately, interpreted as something else entirely.
Both of them glance at it, their expressions briefly shifting into that particular brand of confusion reserved for situations that defy explanation but are not immediately dangerous.
I choose to ignore this.
The chief looks around the orchard.
“I was told there’d be a whole bunch of ya. Did the others already head off somewhere?”
I shake my head lightly.
“My tutorial escalated rather quickly. I was the only survivor.”
A brief pause follows.
I maintain a pleasant expression.
This is, I decide, a completely normal thing to say in casual conversation.
Their expressions shift.
Sadness.
Pity.
They look at me as if I am a fragile survivor of some distant tragedy.
An understandable assumption.
An incorrect one.
I am, after all, at least partially responsible for how things ended, regardless of how inevitable the outcome may have been thanks to the dragon.
Bringing that up feels like the social equivalent of placing a knife on the table mid-conversation.
Therefore, I do not.
Rook mutters under his breath.
“…so that’s how you got your level.”
Incorrect again.
I would have reached this level regardless.
I agree anyway.
“Correct.”
Arlo speaks again, his tone noticeably gentler.
Convenient.
“I see… Would ya like to come to the village and rest a bit? We can hold off on the questin’ till tomorrow if ya prefer. I’ll cover an inn, bath, and food for ya.”
I tap a finger lightly against my chin.
“I will have to decline your offer. While I would greatly appreciate visiting the village, I would prefer to take on a quest today and pay for my stay myself.”
He nods, unsurprised.
“I’ll guide ya there, then.” He glances at Rook. “Wanna come along?”
Rook shakes his head.
“Nah, still gotta harvest some more. I’m real close to another level, I can feel it.”
“Gotcha. Best of luck with yer harvestin’.”
Arlo nods solemnly.
“Hopefully the rng is kind this time.”
My tail goes completely still.
I very nearly laugh.
A gaming term.
Here.
In a field.
I manage to suppress it.
Barely.
They both tilt their heads at me in unison.
“…Apologies, but did you just say ‘rng’? Do your crops have randomized yields?”
Recognition dawns.
Rook nods.
“Yeah. Forgot ya not from ‘round here. Farmer classes got skills that sometimes give bonus harvests. It’s kinda random.”
“…I see.”
That is profoundly illogical.
Do they pick a strawberry and it simply decides to become two?
Or three?
On what basis?
Who decides?
Why?
Highly suspicious.
Naturally, I ask.
“I admit I am curious as to how that functions. Would you mind if I observed you harvesting?”
His tail resumes its enthusiastic assault on the surrounding environment.
“Course! I’ll go right away!”
He grabs a nearby basket.
It is only now that I notice there are approximately ten of them scattered nearby, six already filled with strawberries and blueberries.
He moves to a bush and begins harvesting with impressive speed.
Genuinely impressive.
Nearly half of what I would be capable of, which is frankly absurd when considering my Dexterity investment and various entirely reasonable stat advantages.
A skill, undoubtedly.
I rise onto my tiptoes slightly to peer into the basket.
Each time he plucks a berry and tosses it in, there are moments where two fall instead of one.
Occasionally three.
The bush itself remains unchanged.
Conclusion: the System is creating matter out of thin air through what I can only assume is premium-grade magical nonsense.
Mildly alarming.
Also extremely interesting.
He finishes clearing the bush in a timeframe that would cause any Earth farmer to reconsider their life choices, then straightens and turns toward me, his tail wagging with smug, agricultural victory.
I clap lightly.
His ears perk.
The wagging intensifies.
“Thank you, that was highly interesting.”
I curtsy again.
“I wish you luck in your harvesting.”
He grins at me.
“Thanks, pretty lady. Good luck with ya quests.”
I return the smile.
Measured.
Polished.
“Feel free to simply call me Lyn.”
“Got it, Lyn.”
I turn to Arlo.
“Shall we be off, then? I am rather excited to see this village of yours.”
His tail begins wagging as well.
“Sure, let’s get movin’. See ya, Rook.”
We set off across the orchard, moving at a speed that would make even Earth’s fastest vehicles pause for quiet self-reflection. Rows of plants blur past as we weave and leap over them with practiced ease, the terrain offering little in the way of resistance.
From the slight height gained with each jump, I catch glimpses of the surrounding land.
Separate rows of fruit trees stretch out in the distance, organized into their own neatly divided orchards. Beyond them, the faint silhouette of a wall begins to emerge.
Far away.
…Very far away.
Farther than they have any right to be.
I should not be able to see that distance at all.
Conclusion: Asteria is, as expected, absurdly large.
An exact measurement is currently impossible, but the horizon alone is enough to confirm that any previous assumptions were likely insufficient.
My tail swishes, unable to hide a trace of excitement.
My ears perk slightly.
Time to see what a village looks like in Asteria.