Kurt Allester stood in the middle of a dirt path, frozen not by fear, but by total disgust.
His clothes were now covered in grime. Dust stuck to his boots. The damp heat of the medieval countryside made his skin crawl. Each breath filled his lungs with the smell of animals, sweat, and unfiltered air. His right eye twitched.
"Do you people not have basic sanitation?" he muttered, mostly to himself.
Aria blinked. "Um… what?"
He turned to her with wide eyes. "Water. I need water. A river, a pond, anything that's at least somewhat clean and not crawling with bacteria or magical equivalents."
"You want to bathe?" she tilted her head, amused. "Already?"
"I'm a germaphobe," he snapped, waving his hands as if brushing off unseen filth. "MAX level. You wouldn't understand. Where's the nearest stream?"
"There's one east of here. Just past the ridge."
"Lead the way."
As they walked, Kurt carefully stepped only on relatively dry patches of grass. He cursed the old cobblestone paths for being half mud, half cracked rock. Twice, he paused to wipe his boots on a tree root. Aria glanced back now and then, clearly trying to hold back laughter.
"Do you do this every time you leave your house?" she asked, amused.
"Actually, I avoid leaving the house entirely," he mumbled.
"Why'd you leave it now, then?"
"I didn't have a choice," he said flatly, the memory of his room flooded in white light flashing in his mind again. One moment he was mocking the developer over chat, the next, he was—
He stopped. Aria looked back.
"You okay?"
Kurt stared at his hand. "I'm not dreaming, am I?"
She blinked. "Nope. Sorry."
They reached the stream. It wasn't perfectly clear, but it was flowing water, and to Kurt, that was good enough. He crouched down by the bank, checking for any floating debris or bugs. Satisfied, he began scrubbing his arms, face, and neck. The cold water sent shivers up his spine, but it was worth it.
"What kind of place doesn't have plumbing?" he muttered.
"I have no idea what that word means," Aria replied.
Of course you don't, he thought.
As he dried off with a handkerchief he had tucked in his pocket—thank God for that—he leaned back against a rock and sighed. That felt better. His mind finally had space to think.
He raised his hand and mentally called up the interface again.
Status Window
Name: Kurt Allester
Title: Unknown
Race: Human (???)
Traits:
-Lazy Genius (MAX)
-Critical Thinker (MAX)
-Public Speaker (MAX)
-Understanding (MAX)
-Perfectionist (MAX)
-Germaphobe (MAX)
-Curse of Immortality (MAX)
-Money Hungry (MAX)
-Magic Sensitivity (MAX)
-Inability to Use Magic
Yup. Still ridiculous.
"What kind of game gives you the Inability to Use Magic in a world where everyone else probably can throw fireballs from their nose?" he grumbled.
Aria tilted her head again. "You keep saying weird things. Did you hit your head?"
"I wish I had a better explanation," Kurt sighed. "Actually… do you know anything about the name 'Hearthia'?"
She nodded slowly. "That's the name of the world."
He winced. "No, I mean… never mind. Have you heard of a guy named Aaron?"
Aria scrunched her brow. "Aaron? That foreigner from the Empire? Heard of him. Some say he's been blessed by the gods. Why?"
Kurt's pulse quickened.
Aaron. The hero of his novel. The guy he created to save the world. The one who was supposed to show up later in the story.
So why was Kurt here first?
"Is he doing anything important right now?" he asked carefully.
"I don't know much," Aria replied. "But rumors say he's traveling the continent, training, helping out villages. You know, usual hero stuff."
That wasn't supposed to happen yet.
Kurt's breathing steadied. He had written the novel. He knew the timeline. For Aaron to already be active this early—
Something was off. Very off.
He looked up again. "Aria… do people in this world ever talk about 'players' or 'games'? Or NPCs?"
"En-Pee-What?"
"Never mind."
He got up, still drying his hands nervously. "Do you know a place I can stay for the night?"
"Sure. There's a local inn. It's not much, but they keep the rooms clean."
He narrowed his eyes. "Define 'clean.'"
Aria laughed. "No manure on the floor?"
"…I'll take it."
They walked back into the village. Despite every instinct screaming at him to disinfect the air, Kurt forced himself to observe. The people looked exactly like the NPCs he had written: simple clothing, modest homes, friendly faces, but a sort of dullness in their eyes. Or maybe it was just his imagination.
The inn was an old stone building with a wooden sign that read: The Lazy Mare. Fitting.
Kurt insisted on checking the room before accepting it. Aria didn't argue this time. He sniffed the linens, checked under the bed for dust, and opened the window to let in light.
It wasn't perfect, but it wasn't medieval garbage either.
He sat on the bed and called up the system one last time.
Directive:
Observe the world. Understand its flaws.
Repair what is broken.
"That's vague," he whispered.
Aria looked at him. "Talking to yourself again?"
"Thinking aloud."
"Are you… a scholar or something?"
Kurt smirked. "Or something."
Aria nodded, then leaned against the doorframe. "If you need anything, I sell stuff. Mostly herbs and ingredients. If you have money, that is."
Kurt blinked.
Money. Right. He had Money Hungry (MAX) and no actual money.
"Do you accept bartering?"
She chuckled. "In this village? Of course."
"Great. I'll find a way to earn something. Until then… thanks, Aria."
She gave him a brief wave and left. The door clicked shut.
Kurt stared at the wooden ceiling.
This wasn't just a world based on his novel.
Things were moving ahead without him.
Aaron was active.
Aria existed—but he never created her.
This wasn't his world anymore. Not exactly.
He lay back, cleaned as well as he could, his mind swirling with questions.
And for the first time since arriving, a sliver of fear crept into his calculated thoughts.
What kind of game was this?