In the depths of the vast forest known as Rue Forest, where even sunlight seemed to fade behind misty shadows, Ken noticed a strange young man standing quietly among the trees. The boy looked around nineteen years old, with a face that bore both innocence and wariness.
Ken was slightly taken aback; how could someone so young end up this deep into such a dangerous and desolate jungle?
The air was still. No rustling leaves, no sound of beasts. Only the boy, glancing back and forth, stepping cautiously as if trying to figure something out.
There was both curiosity and confusion in his eyes. Ken watched silently from a distance, like a hunter observing his prey, taking note of every movement.
The boy wore a thick grey T-shirt, over which he had a long black outer coat made of heavy fabric. Below, a worn pair of blue jeans covered his legs. From his clothing, posture, and especially his alert, scanning gaze; Ken needed no further confirmation. The boy was a Transmigrator.
[A Transmigrator is someone who can use a special form of energy called Press Energy to shift themselves across space or reality. This power allows physical or spiritual travel; meaning, a person may teleport from one world to another, from one realm to the next, or even across galaxies.
Sometimes, transmigration is purely physical; where the entire body moves instantaneously. Other times, it's spiritual; l where only the soul travels, leaving the body behind.
This ability isn't common. Some are born with it; others awaken to it later in life. A few attain it through special training. Transmigrators are extremely rare, and usually appear in capital cities or high-security sites; not deep within forests like this.]
That is why Ken was so surprised; what could a Transmigrator possibly be doing here?
Countless questions began forming in Ken's mind. "They usually appear in cities or strategic zones... Why here, in the middle of nowhere? Was he sent? Or did he arrive by mistake?" The thoughts weighed heavily on him.
After a short pause, Ken stepped forward and calmly said, "Excuse me."
Startled, the young man turned to face him at once, eyes wide with fear; perhaps he hadn't expected to find another human being in a place like this.
Ken softly said "Hello" to the young man in a polite and steady voice.
There was calmness and clarity in his tone, as if he knew exactly how to speak at that moment. Hearing another human voice in this strange jungle, the boy looked slightly more relaxed.
He didn't seem afraid, but there was still confusion in his eyes. Maybe he had been waiting for someone like Ken, someone who could help explain where he was or what was happening.
Ken walked a little closer and asked, "What is your name?"
The boy replied in a slightly hesitant tone, "Roddur Roy."
Ken gave a light smile and said, "My name is Ken Renar. I am a hunter."
After saying this, Ken thought for a moment that Roddur might also be a hunter — maybe from another region or someone new. But there was something strange in the boy's eyes. Something that told Ken this was more than just a coincidence.
Roddur, on the other hand, was completely lost. Nothing around him made sense.
He kept asking himself the same question again and again — "How did I come here?"
The forest, the trees, the smell of the earth, the light and shadow — none of it felt familiar.
In reality, Roddur Roy was a simple 19-year-old boy from a small hilly village in the northernmost part of West Bengal, India. He lived a peaceful life close to nature. His village was surrounded by mountains and forests. His days passed climbing hills, reading books, and enjoying the beauty around him.
One day, he was standing near the edge of a very tall hill, enjoying the view from above. Everyone in the area knew that if anyone ever fell from that height, there would be no chance of survival.
Suddenly, in a moment of carelessness, Roddur lost his balance and fell. While falling, he could feel the cold breath of death. He closed his eyes and accepted what was coming.
He thought, "Maybe this is the end."
But when he opened his eyes again, he found himself lying in the middle of a deep and unfamiliar forest.
At first, he thought maybe he had fallen from the hill into some forest below. But when he started observing the place more carefully, he realised that everything was different. The shape of the trees, the smell of the leaves, the feel of the air — it was all from a different world. The environment did not match anything from his own reality.
He stood still and began watching everything around him. He looked at the trees, noticed the way light touched the ground, listened to the birds' sounds — all to understand where he was.
And then, during this quiet observation, he saw Ken Renar.
From Ken's clothes, the way he stood, and how confidently he moved in that place, Roddur slowly started to feel something strange in his heart.
He thought, "Am I in a different world?"
But he could not believe it. He kept thinking, "These things happen in movies, not in real life."
Yet, everything around him was saying only one thing — "Maybe real life has now become the story."
Roddur's eyes slowly moved down toward Ken's body.
He noticed the torn clothes, the blood dripping from deep wounds all over his arms and chest. One of Ken's legs seemed badly twisted. It looked like it might be broken, and he was walking with a heavy limp. Ken was struggling just to stay on his feet, leaning against a tree for support.
Roddur felt a strange mix of curiosity and fear rising inside him. He was still not sure what kind of world this was, or who this injured man really was. In such an unknown place, everything felt unpredictable.
With a calm voice that tried to hide the storm inside, Roddur asked, "Where… am I?"
The question was simple, but behind it stood a mountain of uncertainty.
Ken looked at him for a moment, then replied quietly, "You are in Rue Forest."
"Rue Forest…?" That name didn't ring any bells.
Roddur had never heard of any forest by that name. As he looked around again — at the towering trees, the thick mist, the strange sounds — he understood one thing clearly.
He was not in his world anymore.
Just like in those fictional stories or science fiction movies, something impossible had happened. He had been teleported into a different world.
Ken, too, was watching Roddur closely. He had seen Transmigrators, but only from a distance. They were rare and mysterious — often surrounded by soldiers or studied by scholars. But now, one of them was standing right in front of him. He was young, confused, and very much real.
Roddur then looked at Ken's wounds again. "There is blood all over your body… you've been badly hurt," he said softly.
Ken could not even stand properly. He leaned his full weight against a tree, his face pale, his breathing shallow. But he didn't complain.
They didn't talk much after that. Both of them knew — this was not the time for questions. This was the time to survive. And so, they began their slow journey through the forest, searching for a way out.
It took them nearly half a day. After walking with many breaks and struggles, they finally came out of the jungle.
Roddur stopped in his tracks.
In front of him stretched a breathtaking view — a wide open valley, surrounded by tall mountains. A single dirt road cut through the land and disappeared into the horizon. There was no one around. Not a single human sound.
It was silent. It was beautiful. And it was not home.
Ken looked toward the sky, then said, "We must reach the capital. The sun is about to set. We don't have much time."
Roddur nodded. He was still physically fine, so he offered his shoulder to support Ken. Ken started guiding him — showing the path, telling him where to turn, what to avoid.
And just like that, the two of them began walking side by side. Toward the capital. Toward the unknown. Toward whatever this new world was waiting to reveal.
After walking a little further, the sun had nearly dipped below the mountains. The sky turned reddish-orange, and the air felt heavy with the scent of an ending day. Ken was growing weaker every moment, and though Roddur was physically unharmed, his mind was slowly giving in to exhaustion.
Eventually, they sat down beside the dirt road to rest. Everything around them was silent, except for the occasional rustle of leaves and chirping birds in the distance.
Ken leaned against a tree. His breathing was shallow, his body covered in wounds, and blood still dripped from open cuts. His eyes were only half-open.
Slowly, his head began to tilt forward as his body slid closer to unconsciousness. He looked like someone falling asleep — or someone losing the fight to stay awake.
Suddenly, Roddur heard the sound of horse hooves beating against the dry earth. A horse cart was approaching from a distance, raising dust behind it. It was the only chance they had of reaching the capital before nightfall. Without wasting a moment, Roddur stood up, raised his arms, and waved at the incoming cart.
The cart soon stopped near them. From it stepped down a few strong-looking men — broad shoulders, armor on their chest, weapons at their sides. Their expressions were stern and cold. But Roddur believed they were here to help.
Bowing slightly, he requested politely, "Please… he is badly hurt. Can you help him?"
The men glanced at each other after seeing Ken's bloody condition. One of them nodded slowly.
"Alright, we'll help," he said in a rough voice, and they began to walk toward Ken.
Roddur felt a small breath of relief escape his chest. Just then, Ken stirred. His eyelids fluttered, and he tried to speak. Roddur quickly moved closer, kneeling down and leaning his ear near Ken's lips.
Ken whispered in a broken, fragile voice, "Roddur... run... now…"