Norian sat on his knees, hands tied tightly behind his back, the rough rope biting into his skin. Around him, lizard men circled, their weapons—crude spears and jagged blades—pointed at his chest.
The one who'd captured him, a towering figure with deep green scales, was the first to hiss questions:
Who was he?
What were his intentions?
Where had he come from?
The other lizard men joined in, their voices a chorus of suspicion, their slit-pupiled eyes glinting in the dim light. When they first seized him, panic had clawed at his throat.
He'd been sure they'd kill him—maybe even eat him. The reality of facing another race, especially these reptilian beings, had freaked him out more than he'd expected.
His breath quickened, chest tightening as a full-blown panic attack set in, his mind spiraling into a dark abyss of fear and helplessness.Then, a sharp ding cut through the chaos.
DING!
A system notification flickered in his vision:
✧═──〈 SYSTEM NOTIFICATION 〉──═✧
Several individuals firmly believe that you're 'A Scary Person'. Conviction Nexus changes nature of Equanimity in accordance.
༺═─────────────────═༻
The words hit him like a jolt, and for a moment, his racing heart seemed to stutter. The suffocating dread that he'd die a hopeless death didn't vanish, but it fractured, giving way to a raw, desperate shift in his psyche.
His chest still heaved, each breath a battle, but his thoughts began to claw their way out of the panic's grip. The terror morphed into a gritty determination, a survivor's instinct rising from the depths of his soul.
He felt the weight of his fear—not gone, but redirected, channeling into a fierce resolve to live. His mind, once a whirlwind of despair, now raced with survival strategies, each breath a deliberate anchor pulling him back from the edge.
The realization dawned with a bitter clarity: his only chance was to convince them he wasn't a threat. That became his lifeline, his focus narrowing as he steadied himself, the emotional storm inside him settling into a tense, calculated calm.
He poured out his story with a shaky but determined voice.
"The world I come from is Velthorian,"
He began.
"It's a place of dimension walkers—people like me who travel between worlds to complete missions assigned by the will of our world.
Dimension walkers? Well, we're tasked with exploring, surviving, and sometimes influencing other realms.
The benefit? We earn rewards—power, knowledge, even the chance to grow strong enough to reshape planets. I don't know much beyond that; I'm just following orders."
The lizard men guard who noticed him first tilted his head and asked.
"So, what's your purpose here?"
Norian swallowed hard.
"The will of Velthorian wants to bring this world under its influence. That's the mission I was given."
"Influence?"
The Guard pressed, his tone wary.
"What does that mean?"
"It's about elevating Velthorian's status,"
Norian explained.
"From what I've gathered when I was in my world, connecting with other worlds expands its territory and power, pushing it to a higher dimension. Why? I don't know—maybe it's just how these wills operate. I'm not a philosopher; I just do the missions, get stronger, and reap the benefits."
A female lizard man, possibly named Haku, narrowed her eyes.
"Why would our world want that?"
"I don't have the answer,"
Norian admitted.
"But I think your world's will is dormant, lacking awareness. Velthorian's plan might be to awaken it through us—through your belief in its existence. If enough of you acknowledge Velthorian, it could establish a link, bringing this world under its sway."
The guard, who'd been pacing, stepped toward the chief, their voices dropping into a heated discussion.
"He says he means no harm,"
The Guard murmured,
"but what if he's lying?"
"Relax, Garuda. When you were little, two came—before you were born, another. They had similar tales, offered no harm, and even taught us skills. I don't think this one's different."
The Garuda scowled.
"What if he's a danger? We can't trust him!"
"Test him then,"
The chief countered.
"If he's from an advanced world, we could learn from him. It's a win-win. All we need is to believe Velthorian exists—let's see where that leads."
Norian held his breath, the weight of their decision pressing down as the cave's moonlight cast long shadows around him.
He took deep breaths to calm himself down. Right now he cannot do anything. But his thoughts then shifted to the system notification.
His Innate Ability reacted. He read to prompt. Right now, he got two points about his power. It reacts to belief. And the other one is that in turns the belief into reality. He doesn't know the limitations yet.
But for now, it is his only way for survival. He needed to use their belief and use it for his benefits.
And just like that description ge read before. It really is what people believe him to be. The way the lizard men are treating like him a threat tells that. But the 'A Scary Person' doesn't quite sit right with him.
'These lizards think I am Scary? They should look in the mirror before thinking that.'
He scoffed internally. He didn't show it out side. Or maybe he couldn't. His body was still shaking, slightly numbness all over his body.
'Huuuuhh, Calm down. Let's think of ways I can use this new information. Right now all I can think of is to somehow make them believe that I a physically strong. And that the problem. I don't know if it will work.'
Norian was thinking of ways to utilise his power and thinking of ways to survive. But in that process he failed to notice the subtle change in his personality.
Before it was meek and weak. Now? It's still like before but his thought process has shifted. He didn't notice it. The chage was too natural. Like he was like this from the beginning.
Even with the system indicating it. Well, his situation wasn't that great for deep inner contemplation.
The discussion between the two lizard men seems to have ended. The lizard men Guard, whose name should be Garuda, walked towards him. Norian's heart pounded against his chest. Fearing the inevitable. What discussion did they make. He was distracted and couldn't catch what they discussed.
The Guard, Garuda, stopped infront of Norian looking down. Norian looked up and Gulped. He was swating hard. Garuda stare at him for few seconds which felt like an eternity to Norian and said.
"We decided that we will give you a chance to prove your self."
Norian finally breathed which he didn't know was holding. That asked in a shaky voice, heads down because his neck was tired.
"What do you want me to do?"
***
Norian slouched against the stick bars of his prison cell, the faint glow of bioluminescent moss painting the cave walls in eerie greens and blues.
The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and jungle rot, and the distant hum of the forest outside vibrated like a living thing. The two Syltharion guards stood just beyond the bars, their mottled green scales blending into the shadows.
Chatter, the talkative one, gripped his spear, his tongue flickering nervously. Quiet, his partner, stood like a statue, amber eyes fixed on Norian.
Norian's mind churned over the guards' tale from the previous night—the legend of the swamp, the corrupted Muroks, and the celestial pact that kept the forest from falling to the Abyss.The story lingered like a bad taste.
The Muroks, ambitious Lizardmen from the swamp, had tried to overthrow the Saurakhan, Xerion's ruling tribe, by bargaining with the Abyss—a force of corruption that twisted their land and their bodies.
The swamp, once lush, became a festering wound, alive at night with a hunger to devour the forest. But the Sun God's radiance held it back, or so the Syltharions believed. During the day, the forest absorbed the sun's energy, storing it to fend off the swamp's encroachment.
At night, the Moon God reflected the sun's light, and the Forest God channeled it into a glowing barrier, keeping the Abyss at bay. Folklore or not, Norian knew legends often hid truths, and the forest's eerie day-night shift felt too real to dismiss.
He'd seen the jungle's glow, felt its pulse. Something was out there, and it wasn't just trees.Two days had passed since Garuda's visit, leaving three until the fight—or whatever test the Syltharion Guards leader was rethinking after Norian's jab about sincerity.
By questioning the logic of a strength-only trial, Norian had caught Garuda off-guard, and the leader's silence spoke volumes. Norian needed to keep probing, learning what he could from the guards. Over the past two days, between bites of tart, pulpy fruits and sips of water from a gourd, he'd coaxed out details about the "tribe of this land," as the Lizardmen called it.
The Syltharions were the forest's guardians, bound to its will and proud of their role as keepers of its sacred groves. They revered the Forest God and distrusted the Saurakhan, who ruled Xerion with ambition and might.
The guards hinted at old grudges—Syltharions saw the Saurakhan as outsiders, meddling with forces they didn't understand, like the Muroks before them.
Norian tossed a fruit pit through the bars, eyeing Chatter.
"So, your tribe—this Syltharion crew—you're all about protecting the forest, right? Keeping that swamp's corruption from eating your trees. Sounds like a full-time job, with the Abyss creeping in at night."
Chatter's crest twitched, and he hissed softly.
"You heard the tale, off-worlder. The swamp's cursed because the Muroks betrayed the land. The Forest God fights it, with the Sun and Moon. We guard what's ours."
Quiet grunted, tapping his spear.
"The Saurakhan don't care. They rule, but they don't feel the jungle's heart."
Norian nodded, storing that away. The Syltharions' pride in their tribe ran deep, and their rift with the Saurakhan could be useful.
"Got it. You're the forest's heroes, and the Saurakhan are the big bosses you tolerate. But why's Garuda so hung up on testing me? If he doesn't trust me, why not just feed me to the swamp?"
Chatter opened his mouth, but a sharp scrape of claws cut him off. Garuda strode into the cave, his emerald scales glinting under the moss's glow. His crest flared, and the guards snapped to attention, tails still. Norian stood, brushing dirt from his tattered clothes, and flashed a half-smile.
"Off-worlder,"
Garuda said, his voice a low hiss.
"You've been digging, asking my men about our tribe. About the forest and its fight with the swamp. You think you understand our world?"
'What's up with you man. On your periods? Why are you even irritated. Never seen a curious man?'
Of course Norian didn't say it. He shrugged, keeping his tone easy.
"Just curious, boss. Your jungle's got a wild story—Abyss, Muroks, gods teaming up to save the trees. Hard not to ask questions when I'm stuck in a cage. So, you rethink that test yet? Fighting one of your guys proves I'm tough, not loyal. What's the new deal?"
' Let's butter him up. Just in case it helps. Maybe.'
Garuda's tail lashed, and he stepped closer, claws clicking on the stone.
"You're clever, Norian. Too clever, maybe. You're right—a fight only tests your claws, not your heart. So, in three days, you'll face the jungle's trial. The Syltharions live by its will. Survive its judgment, and we'll see if your talk of sincerity is more than air."
'Your the one whose an idiot you over sized lizard.'
Norian had the arge to Say it out loud, but didn't fearing the consciousness. Instead,
Norian tilted his head, his smile fading. The trial part gave him a bad feeling. So he asked to know more about it.
"Jungle's judgment? What, like outrunning vines or dodging glowy moss? Give me a clue, Garuda. I'm not exactly a local."
Garuda's eyes narrowed, sharp as flint.
"The forest is alive, off-worlder. It drinks the Sun God's light by day, holds back the swamp's corruption by night. It knows truth from lies. Pass its trial, and you prove you belong. Fail, and it claims you. We won't need to spill your blood."
'Well, Shit.'
Norian's gut tightened, but he kept his face steady. The guards' legend wasn't just a story—the forest was a battlefield, holding the line against the Abyss-tainted swamp. The Sun God's energy, the Moon God's reflection, the Forest God's barrier—it all pointed to something real, maybe even sentient.
A trial in that jungle meant facing whatever stirred in its depths, especially at night when the swamp's influence grew. But it was also a chance to survive, to dig deeper into why Garuda cared about him at all.
"And if I make it?"
Norian asked, crossing his arms. He didn't want to risk his life but he didn't have a choice. But if he actually managed, maybe he can pull some benefits other than recognition.
"You cut me loose? Or do I get a Syltharion badge and join the tribe?"
Garuda's crest pulsed, and he bared his teeth in a possible grin.
"Make it, and we talk. About you. About why you're here. About your world."
Norian's heart skipped, but he masked it with a smirk. Veltharion. Garuda didn't say it, but the word was there, heavy as the cave's air. The Syltharions knew it only from legends—strange creatures whispering of another world, maybe Walkers.
Garuda shouldn't know more, not with the Saurakhan guarding that secret, but he was probing, testing Norian's reaction. Norian had to play ignorant, at least until he knew Garuda's game.
'Argh, you talk like I'm beneath you. But I'm weak can't do anything. Just like always. I swear if I survive and get donner I will punch each and everyone of the bustards face who looked down on me.'
Norian kept his frustration in his heart.
"Deal,"
He said, grinning. At this moment he felt like if he chose acting as a career, he may actually do pretty well.
"Hope your forest likes me. Got any survival tips, boss?"
Garuda turned, his tail sweeping the ground.
"Don't lie to the jungle, off-worlder. It sees."
He glanced at the guards.
"Feed him. Watch him."
With a final hiss, he melted into the cave's shadows.Chatter tossed a gourd of water through the bars, muttering,
"Eat, off-worlder. The jungle's not forgiving."
Norian caught it, sipping slowly.
"Thanks, Chatter. This trial—any chance I'll bump into those swamp monsters your legend mentioned?"
Quiet hissed, his voice low.
"Pray you don't. The forest fights the Abyss. Lie to it, and you're no better than a Murok."
'Let alone be that, I don't even wanna meet them.'
Norian leaned back, staring at the glowing moss. The Syltharions, the tribe of this land, were tied to a forest locked in a war with the swamp's corruption.
The Saurakhan's secrets, the Muroks' betrayal, the whispers of Veltharion—it all wove into something bigger. The jungle trial was his next step, a chance to prove himself and maybe crack Xerion's mysteries.
Three days to learn more, to watch the forest, to survive whatever it threw at him.Because Norian wasn't just fighting for trust—he was fighting for answers.
"Pituw"
He suddenly spat.
'What even am I thinking? Solving mystery? Finding truth? I probably can't even find my self inside of a monster, let alone secrets and truth. I will complete the mission and get the fuck out of here.Because shits about to get a lot more messy. I can FEEL it.'
He could feel it. Staying here for too long is trouble. The two guard looked at Norian who suddenly spat and vicariously shook his head with a weird look. Wondering if he had gone crazy out of fear, but shrugged and continued to do there job.
-To Be Continued