The first thing Kazuto noticed was the smell.
It wasn't the stale damp of the elevator, or the acidic Tokyo rain. This was rich, deep earth, the sweet decay of fallen leaves, and underneath it all, a faint, floral scent he couldn't name. It smelled alive.
The second thing he noticed was the pain. A dull, full-body ache, like he'd been put through a washing machine's spin cycle. He groaned, pushing himself up onto his elbows. His delivery uniform was smudged with dirt and moss. His cap was gone.
Okay. Not the van. Definitely not my apartment.
He was in a forest. But not like any forest he'd ever seen. The trees were enormous, their trunks wider than his van, stretching up into a canopy so high it turned the light beneath into a soft, green-gold haze. Giant, bioluminescent mushrooms clustered around the roots, giving off a gentle blue glow. The air was warm and slightly humid.
A wave of dizzying panic rose in his chest. He fought it down with a deep, practiced breath. Assess. Observe. Plan. It was the same mantra he used for a chaotic delivery route.
« NOTICE: HOST HAS SUCCESSFULLY SYNCHRONIZED WITH LUMINOUS PANGAEA. MANA INTEGRATION: STABLE. »
The voice. It was back. It echoed in the quiet of his own skull, calm and impossible.
"Who are you?" he whispered aloud, his voice hoarse. "What is this?"
There was no answer. Just the rustle of leaves and the distant call of an unknown bird.
Right. Okay. I've been… isekai'd. That's the term. Transported to another world. Because of a weird package and a busted elevator. The absurdity of it almost made him laugh. He'd read a few manga like this during his breaks. It was never delivery guys. It was always high school students.
He remembered the box.
He looked around frantically. There, a few feet away, resting perfectly upright against a giant mushroom as if someone had carefully placed it, was the plain cardboard package. The "FRAGILE" stamp was still clear.
A hysterical thought hit him: If I damage the client's goods, the company will deduct it from my pay.
He scrambled over, checking it. Not a dent. He picked it up. It still felt vaguely warm.
"What even are you?" he muttered, giving it a gentle shake. Something solid shifted inside. It wasn't his job to open it. His job was to deliver it. But to who? To where? The address was literally another world.
His stomach growled, a loud, rude sound in the pristine wilderness. The practical part of his mind, the part that figured out lunch breaks and bathroom stops, took over. Shelter. Water. Food. In that order.
He stood up, wincing at his sore muscles. He still had his delivery satchel. He rummaged through it: tablet (screen dark and cracked), a half-eaten protein bar, a pen, his route logbook. No phone. No weapon.
"Great. Just great."
He decided to follow a small, clear stream he could hear trickling nearby. Water was priority one. He tucked the mysterious package securely under his arm, the most familiar thing in this insane situation, and started walking.
The forest was eerily quiet. Too quiet. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. He felt watched.
He'd only gone about fifty paces when he heard the snap of a twig to his left. He froze.
From behind a thicket of ferns, three figures emerged. They were short, maybe chest-high to him, with leathery greenish skin, pointed ears, and wide, yellow eyes. They wore crude hides and held sharpened sticks and a single, rusty short sword.
Goblins. Actual, real goblins.
They looked as surprised to see him as he was to see them. They chattered to each other in guttural sounds, pointing at his bright blue delivery uniform and the box under his arm.
One, bolder than the others, stepped forward, hefting its spear. It snarled, revealing jagged teeth.
Kazuto's mind went blank, then snapped into a familiar, desperate protocol: De-escalate.
"Uh… hello," he said, slowly raising his free hand, palm out. "I'm just passing through. I don't want any trouble. See? No weapon." He gestured to himself.
The goblin didn't care. It hissed and lunged, the sharp point of its spear aimed straight at Kazuto's stomach.
Time seemed to slow. Kazuto braced for the impact, a thousand regrets flashing through his mind—mostly about the unpaid rent on his apartment.
« NOTICE: HOSTILE INTENT DETECTED. »
« PASSIVE SUB-SKILL [DIVINE AURA OF SAFETY] ACTIVATING. »
The spearhead stopped an inch from Kazuto's jacket. Not because the goblin hesitated. It was thrusting with all its might, its face contorted in effort. But the tip simply… refused to move forward. It was like an invisible, unbreakable film was stretched over Kazuto's body.
The goblin grunted, confused. It pulled back and stabbed again. Same result. Tink. A harmless sound, like tapping glass.
The other two goblins stared. The leader, now enraged, dropped the spear and snatched the rusty sword from its companion. It let out a shrieking war cry and charged, bringing the blade down in a clumsy overhead chop aimed at Kazuto's head.
Kazuto flinched, squeezing his eyes shut.
Clang!
He heard a metallic ring, followed by a sharp vibration. He opened his eyes.
The rusty sword was vibrating violently in the goblin's hands. The blade had connected with something about six inches above Kazuto's scalp and was now stuck there, hanging in mid-air as if welded to an invisible shield. The goblin tried to pull it free, its feet slipping on the moss.
« SUB-SKILL [ETERNAL REFLECTION] ENGAGED. »
With a final, comical sproing, the sword tore itself from the goblin's grip. It didn't fly back at the creature. Instead, it shot sideways like a pinball, handle over blade, and smacked the third goblin square in the forehead with a dull thonk. That goblin sat down hard, seeing stars.
The sword then clattered harmlessly to the forest floor.
Silence descended, broken only by the stream and the dazed goblin's low moan.
Kazuto looked at the lead goblin. The goblin looked at its empty hands, then at its dazed friend, then at Kazuto.
A profound, bewildered understanding passed between them. The goblin's aggressive snarl melted into an expression of utter, defeated confusion.
Kazuto, his heart hammering against his ribs, slowly lowered his raised hand. The voice in his head had called it a skill. His skill.
"Look," he said, his voice steadier than he felt. "I really don't want to fight. I'm just trying to find… somewhere."
He took a cautious step forward. The goblins scrambled back two steps.
He looked down at the package in his hands. The "FRAGILE" stamp seemed to mock him. He was the fragile one. Or was he?
He took another step. The goblins retreated again, pulling their stunned companion with them. After a moment, they turned and scurried off into the ferns, casting terrified glances over their shoulders.
Kazuto was alone again. The adrenaline drained away, leaving him shaky. He stared at the spot where the sword had hung in mid-air.
"Okay," he said to the silent, giant trees. "Okay. So that's a thing."
He looked at the unassuming cardboard box. For the first time, a wild, ridiculous thought occurred to him. What if the package wasn't for someone in this world?
What if it was for the world itself?
He shook his head, dismissing the crazy idea. He was a deliveryman. He had a job to do. And his first job here was to survive.
With the goblins gone, he turned back towards the sound of the stream. He needed water. Then he'd figure out shelter.
As he walked, the genderless voice spoke once more, a quiet, factual footnote to his first encounter.
« ANALYSIS: MINOR HOSTILES NEUTRALIZED. NO INJURIES SUSTAINED. PRIMARY DIRECTIVE OF [BOUNDLESS MERCY]: UPHELD. »
Kazuto just kept walking, clutching his unbreakable package, a very confused and utterly unharmed man in a very strange new world.