Misaki's eyes cracked open to an assault of wrongness. The light filtering through the woven walls was too bright, the shadows too sharp, and the ambient sounds of the village outside carried an unfamiliar quality that made his brain itch with disorientation.
Then he saw the clock.
Hanging on the far wall of the hut was a circular device made of polished wood and crystal, with numbers etched around its circumference. The numbers didn't stop at twelve or even twenty-four. They went all the way to fifty.
Fifty hours. A fifty-hour day. Right. Because normal twenty-four-hour cycles would be too easy.
The system interface flickered to life in the corner of his vision, as if responding to his conscious attention.
[VULCAN TIME SYSTEM]
[1 Vulcan Day = 50 Earth Hours]
[25 Hours Daylight / 25 Hours Darkness]
[Current Time: 8th Hour of Day Cycle]
"You're awake." Lyria's voice drew his attention. She sat in a wooden chair beside his bedding, looking considerably more rested than the previous night. Her amber eyes studied him with the clinical assessment of a medical professional. "How do you feel?"
Misaki took inventory. The deep, tearing agony in his abdomen had subsided to a dull, persistent ache. His head felt clearer, though still foggy around the edges. When he tried to shift his position, pain spiked through his torso, but it was manageable.
"Like I got impaled by a metal rod and somehow survived," he said, attempting a weak smile. "So... better than yesterday?"
Lyria didn't return the smile. Instead, she leaned forward, her hands beginning to glow with that soft golden light. "I need to check your vitals. This will only take a moment."
The warmth of her healing magic washed over him as her hands hovered above the bandages. Misaki watched in fascination as the golden light pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat, occasionally flickering brighter or dimmer in response to something only she could sense.
This is real magic. Actual, honest-to-god magic. Not tricks, not technology—magic.
After a minute, Lyria pulled back, the light fading. "Your recovery is progressing faster than expected. The internal damage is healing cleanly, and there's no sign of infection." She paused, her expression growing more serious. "However, we need to discuss something important. The village elders and Chief Shy'yao will be arriving shortly. They have questions."
Misaki's stomach tightened—a sensation unrelated to his injury. "Questions about what?"
"About you. About how you arrived here." Lyria stood, moving to a small table where a clay pitcher and cup sat. She poured water and brought it to him. "Off-worlders are not common in M'lod. When they do arrive, it's typically through... different circumstances."
The way she said "different circumstances" carried weight. Misaki accepted the cup and drank carefully, his mind racing. Off-worlders. So they know about people from other worlds. But something about how I arrived is unusual.
"What are the normal circumstances?" he asked.
Lyria settled back into her chair, her hands folded in her lap. "Usually, an off-worlder's soul inhabits the body of a Vulcanite at birth. The memories of their previous life emerge gradually as they grow. Sometimes they remember nothing. Sometimes they remember everything. But they're always born here, into this world's system." Her amber eyes fixed on him with unsettling intensity. "You weren't born here. You arrived in a metal construct that fell from the sky like a falling star. The impact crater is nearly twenty meters wide. That's... unprecedented."
Before Misaki could respond, voices sounded outside the hut. Lyria rose smoothly to her feet as the door covering was pulled aside.
Three figures entered, and Misaki immediately understood he was being visited by people of significance.
The first was an elderly man whose age showed not in frailty but in the kind of weathered dignity that came from centuries of life. He stood perhaps six feet tall, with long silver hair bound in intricate braids and eyes that gleamed with sharp intelligence. He wore robes of deep blue fabric embroidered with symbols that seemed to shimmer in the light.
Two hundred seventy-six years old, Misaki remembered from the interface flash he'd seen. Village Chief Shy'yao.
Behind him came two others—a tall woman with gray-streaked hair and a younger man whose muscular build suggested a warrior or hunter. Both wore practical clothing marked with the same embroidered symbols as the chief's robes, likely denoting official status.
"So," Chief Shy'yao said, his voice carrying the resonant quality of someone accustomed to being heard and obeyed. "This is the sky-faller."
Misaki tried to sit up straighter, wincing at the pain. "My name is Misaki Haruto. I—"
"Peace, young one." The chief raised a hand, and to Misaki's surprise, his severe expression softened slightly. "We are not here to judge you for your arrival. We simply need to understand it. Lyria has told us you survived injuries that should have been fatal. That speaks to either great fortune or great purpose." He moved closer, settling onto a stool that the woman produced from somewhere. "Now. Tell us what you remember."
For the next hour, Misaki found himself subjected to the most thorough interrogation of his life. The questions came in waves—where was he from, how had he arrived, what did he remember before the crash, what powers did he possess, which deity marked him, what was his affinity.
Misaki answered as truthfully as he could, explaining about Earth, about being an astronaut, about the mission that had somehow gone catastrophically wrong and deposited him here. But when they pressed him about his powers and affinities, he had to admit his ignorance.
"I don't know what abilities I have," he said, frustration creeping into his voice. "The system shows me basic information and warnings, but no awakened abilities. No stats beyond the most fundamental. Just survival notifications and quest objectives."
The chief and his companions exchanged glances. The woman spoke for the first time, her voice cool and analytical. "Unawakened abilities at your age is highly irregular. All Vulcanites manifest their first affinities within days of birth, once their chakra channels begin to form. Even off-worlders who arrive through soul transfer show latent abilities immediately." She studied him with clinical interest. "Your case is unusual."
"Could his soul be incomplete?" the younger man asked. "Partially transferred?"
"No." Lyria's voice cut through the speculation. "I've examined his spiritual signature during the healing. His soul is whole and firmly anchored to his physical form. Whatever he is, he's not a fragmented consciousness."
Chief Shy'yao stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Then perhaps the system recognizes him differently. His arrival was physical, not spiritual. The integration process may simply be... delayed." He focused on Misaki with renewed intensity. "You mentioned quest notifications. What exactly does your system show you?"
Misaki closed his eyes, trying to remember the notification that had appeared before he'd passed out. "It said 'Quest Initiated: Survive and Adapt. Objective: Recover from injuries. Reward: System Access Unlocked.'"
"System access unlocked," the woman repeated. "So your full interface is locked behind quest completion. That would explain the limited functionality."
The younger man nodded. "It's similar to how children's systems restrict certain features until they reach appropriate development milestones. Perhaps his system is treating him as uninitialized."
Chief Shy'yao held up a hand for silence. "Speculation helps no one. What matters is that the young man is here, he is injured, and he will need guidance once his system grants full access." He stood, his robes settling around him with a whisper of fabric. "We will reconvene once your abilities manifest. Until then, you remain under Lyria's care and the village's protection. But—" his gaze hardened slightly as it fixed on Misaki, "—you should understand something, Misaki Haruto. This world is dangerous. Without power, without the ability to defend yourself or contribute to the community, survival is... difficult. I suggest you focus on completing whatever requirements your system has set for you."
With that pronouncement, the three officials departed, leaving Misaki alone with Lyria and a heavy sense of urgency.
The silence stretched for a long moment after they left. Finally, Lyria sighed and returned to her seat. "He's not wrong, you know. About needing power to survive."
"I gathered that from the lecture," Misaki said dryly. "So what do I do? Just... wait to heal and hope the system delivers on its promise?"
"You could." Lyria reached into a leather pouch at her belt and produced a small vial filled with luminous blue liquid. "Or you could accelerate the process. This is a Greater Restoration Draught. It will speed your healing significantly and help stabilize your spiritual channels. The system might respond more readily to a body that's not actively dying."
She uncorked the vial and handed it to him. Misaki accepted it carefully, eyeing the glowing contents with a mixture of hope and apprehension. The liquid inside seemed to swirl of its own accord, and he could swear he saw tiny motes of light dancing through it like miniature stars.
Here goes nothing.
He downed the potion in one swift gulp. The taste was indescribable—sweet and bitter and spicy all at once, with an effervescent quality that fizzed on his tongue. Heat bloomed in his stomach and spread through his body in waves of pins and needles sensation.
The system interface exploded to life.
[CONSUMABLE DETECTED: Greater Restoration Draught]
[Analyzing effects...]
[Health regeneration increased by 300%]
[Spiritual channel stabilization in progress...]
[Debuff duration reduced: 7 days → 2 days]
[ATTRIBUTE CHANGES:]
[Constitution: 8 → 12]
[Vitality: 15 → 28]
[Spiritual Stability: Critical → Stable]
Misaki gasped as he felt the changes ripple through his body. The pain in his abdomen diminished dramatically, becoming barely more than a tender ache. His vision sharpened, colors becoming more vibrant. Even his breathing felt easier, deeper, more efficient.
"Whoa," he breathed. "That's... that's incredible."
Lyria smiled—a real smile this time, warm and genuine. "Magic potions tend to have that effect. Now—" she stood and moved to a wooden shelf, retrieving a thick, leather-bound tome, "—while you're recovering, you should educate yourself about this world. Ignorance is just as dangerous as weakness here."
She placed the book on his lap. The cover was worn smooth from countless readings, and the title was embossed in faded gold lettering: "Comprehensive Lexicon of Vulcan Fauna, Flora, and Dungeon Phenomena - Third Edition."
"This is one of our village's few educational texts," Lyria explained. "It contains information about the creatures you might encounter, the plants that can help or harm you, and the nature of the dungeons that dot our landscape. Chief Shy'yao is right—you need power. But knowledge is a form of power too. Start reading. I'll be back to check on you in a few hours."
She moved toward the door, then paused and looked back. "And Misaki? Don't be discouraged if your powers take time to manifest. The system works in mysterious ways. Sometimes the greatest abilities require the longest awakening."
After she left, Misaki opened the lexicon to the first page and began to read. The text was dense and technical, written in that same automatically-translated language he'd been hearing since he arrived. But as he read about the Vro'nax pack hunters that had nearly killed him, about the dangerous Vro'gath bears and the terrifying Vro'lilth'xo crocodilians, about dungeons that spawned monsters and contained treasures, about the seven chakras and the power they could unlock...
He felt something stir deep inside him. Not fear, though there was plenty to be afraid of. Not even excitement, though this world was more fantastical than anything he'd imagined.
No, what he felt was determination.
He'd survived space. He'd survived the crash. He'd survived being impaled and bleeding out in an alien field.
Whatever this world threw at him next, he'd survive that too.
And maybe, just maybe, he'd find a way to thrive.
[QUEST UPDATE: Survive and Adapt]
[Objective: Recover from Injuries (Progress: 40%)]
[New Objective: Study the World (Progress: 1%)]
Misaki smiled and kept reading.