Something was wrong.

It was night, and Tristan was close to the Great Oak. Close enough that the massive canopy of the otherworldly tree dominated the sky, plunging the forest into darkness much sooner than it should’ve. He’d swapped out [Stonehold] for [Nighteyes] early. A well-hidden nook was his camp for the night, and there he sat, frowning down at an [Item Card].

5x. [Corrupted Great Oak Leaves].

These had started falling from the sky a few hours back like snow. A thick layer of crushed leaves blanketed the ground, and he went from easily stepping through them to sweating a bit to huffing and puffing as he drew closer to the tree. That wasn’t particularly strange, as he’d remembered this happening when he played the game.

But the color of the leaves was off. He remembered them distinctly being an ashen gray.

These leaves were iridescent with veins of dull Earth energy flowing through it. It was strange; he never thought iridescence could look disarming, but it did here. The mother-of-pearl sheen was harsh in its radiance, the light stabbing his eyes.

Worse than that, the quantity of monsters had dropped dramatically the closer he got, to the point where he wasn’t able to find enough monsters to unlock another Perk.

He returned the leaves to his [Binder], thinking. His hand absently went to the side to pet Rommie before he remembered he didn’t summon her. The strange feel of the situation made him want to keep her in his deck, ready to deploy if something were to happen.

But what? He looked around, his [Nighteyes] granting him much greater perception. The trees around him had changed from slate-gray to a glimmering iridescence not dissimilar from the leaves. There was a strange smell to the air, like rotten flesh mixed with decomposing greens.

Even stranger was the silence. He’d gotten used to hearing the constant sounds of a forest alive. Now, there was only the sound of his breathing and the groaning of the trees and the whispering of wind.

It was, in short, very creepy. He tucked himself deeper into his cloak, narrowed eyes suspiciously roaming the surroundings. What I’d give for a Trap card right now, he thought. He wasn’t the biggest user of them in the game, but their value in a real world setting was undeniable.

He sighed. He would have to go back away from the Great Oak tomorrow if he wanted to finish out his Perks before clearing the Dungeon—which he did. It meant backtracking, but something was off about this situation, and he wanted to be fully prepared.

With that disappointing decision made, he settled in and closed his eyes, ready for an uncomfortable, anxious sleep.

***

Noise.

Tristan snapped awake and summoned his deck. The cards came to life in front of him.

He slowly stood up, looking around. It was still night, though darker than before.

Had he imagined it? Probably just a falling branch, he thought. This place has my nerves all twisted up. Feeling a little foolish, he was about to put his deck away when he heard the noise again, off to his left.

No, not just any noise. Voices. There were people here.

Heart suddenly hammering, Tristan quietly crept towards the sounds, and soon he made out a bright, unnatural light breaking the monotony of darkness around him. The light poked through the trees, casting rippling shadows as he inched closer like a moth to a flame.

Then, through a gap in the trees, he saw them.

A group of six, four women and and two men of varying ages, trudging through the fallen leaves. They moved in a terse and tense manner, sticking in two close groups of three. Two of them had a ball of light glowing by their shoulders—a Novice [Illuminate] card, he assumed—but all six had their decks out.

From the amount of cards, Tristan saw that one was Novice, four were Apprentice and, most interestingly, the last one was Adept. The Adept was a man leading the group, tall and thin, wearing a deep-red robe with a few glittering rings adorning his fingers and a circlet of sorts on his head.

Tristan felt dizzy. He wasn’t what one would exactly call social, but he hadn’t seen a single soul for the past eight, almost nine days. That, compounded with the fact that he had somehow been transported to another world, made for a loneliness cocktail that even he had trouble swallowing.

Wait. What if they’re hostile? They could be out here looking for easy prey. In the game, player killing wasn’t a thing, but this was the real world now.

He was trying to figure out what to do when suddenly his body lit up shockingly bright. He choked back a surprised squeak as a card he hadn’t seen peeled away from him and flew back to one of the Apprentices in the now alert group.

Shit. A [Detect Presence] card, he realized, scrambling to hide behind a tree.

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“Whoever’s there,” a man shouted, “you best come out now.”

This wasn’t going how he planned. But his hand was forced.

“Sorry!” he shouted back, then grimaced when his voice cracked. God, when was the last time he spoke out loud? “Sorry,” he said again, more in control, “but I’m not coming out. I don’t know who you people are.”

“What?” said a woman with a shockingly deep voice. “You’re the one lurking in the woods.”

“I’m not lurking,” Tristan answered, his deck out and ready in case they tried something. “I was on my way to clear the Dungeon when I saw you guys. I decided to come investigate.”

“Clear the Dungeon?” the same man who’d spoken earlier echoed. “With which Guild do you affiliate with?”

“I’m actually alone,” Tristan said, then cursed himself. He shouldn’t have revealed that information.

“Alone? You’re going to clear the Dungeon alone?” said another man’s voice, incredulous.

“Yes.” Why was that so surprising? [Withering Roots] was only Apprentice-rank; all four Dungeons on this beginner island were.

“What rank are you?” asked a woman, her voice soft and gentle.

“Apprentice.”

There was an awkward silence. Shit. Should I have kept that hidden, too?

“Stranger,” said the first man, clearly the leader of the group, “if this is your idea of a joke, you have a poor sense of humor.”

Tristan rubbed his face. He should just leave, shouldn’t he? He could [Shadow Step] away and then run.

“What are you doing here?” he called out instead. “Are you here to clear the Dungeon?”

“We are!” shouted back a new voice, a young woman. “If you’re here for the same task, then join us!”

“Eila!” hissed the deep-voiced woman.

“We’re wasting time!” the same girl cried. “Aidas might be injured. We need to save him!”

Arguing started within the group. Tristan remained where he was, mind rapidly running through the options.

There had been nothing like this in the game. He was beginning to suspect that while much of the gameplay side had been translated, the transition from game to real had resulted in a completely different worldstate.

If that was the case, getting information was vital.

Also, the girl’s voice… she sounded afraid but not for herself; for this Aidas person, whoever he was. A second thought hammered home: if the game was real, then these people were real too.

Screw it. Taking a deep breath, Tristan cast [Wooden Shell], a thin, glowing aura of green-and-brown surrounding him. He summoned Rommie, and she looked at him with a cocked head. He mentally commanded her to stay put and wait for his command. That done, he pulled [Shadow Step], then stepped out from behind the tree with his hands raised up.

Six pairs of eyes turned to meet him, bristling with hostility and suspicion. He met their gaze cooly, feeling the weight of their attention crash on him.

Wait. One pair of eyes was noticeably less hostile than the rest. He made eye contact with a girl about his height, maybe a little taller, wearing plainclothes with a cloak tied around her neck. Her brown hair was wild and all over the place, and dark bags sagged under her wide, almost hopeful-looking eyes.

“Hello,” he said, looking at her. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. My name’s Tristan. I would appreciate it if you didn’t try to kill me.”

A strange expression flitted across her face; was it amusement? It was gone too quickly to tell.

The man in red robes, the Adept, stepped forward with a card held in his hand. Tristan’s fingers twitched as the man’s stern eyes flashed from his deck to the [Shadow Step] in his hand.

“Explain yourself,” he ordered. He was the leader, the man who’d spoken first. “I see you really are of Apprentice-rank. I don’t recognize you, and I make it a point to recognize everybody.”

“I came from Sol. I heard about the Dungeon here and thought I’d take a crack at it.” Inwardly, he groaned at how flimsy his lie sounded.

“You thought you’d take a crack at the [Withering Roots],” the Adept said blankly. “Alone. After what had just happened.”

“That’s right.” Tristan frowned. What had happened?

There was another awkward silence. He was about to just [Shadow Step] away, information be damned, when the man slowly lowered his hand, returning his card to his deck. He still kept the deck out, but Tristan breathed a sigh of relief.

“Duran!” protested an older woman wearing an all-white robe.

“It’s alright, Marr,” the man, Duran, said. “I don’t think this young man is a threat. Besides, he’s only an Apprentice. If he tries something, I’ll handle it.”

Tristan felt his face twitch at the threat-warning-dismissal tied in one. Only an Apprentice? He was sure, without a shadow of a doubt, that he could mop the floor with the man. He wasn’t too big into the Duel side of the game, preferring PvE mostly, but he couldn’t leave a leaderboard untouched without adding his name to it; he reached top fifty in the world before he got bored and dropped it.

But now wasn’t the time for arrogance. That could come later. Instead he just pasted a thin smile on his face and lowered his hands, but kept [Shadow Step] out in case. Duran’s eyes narrowed.

“You can put that card away now, son,” the man said.

Tristan nodded at the ground. “I’ll put mine away when you recall that Trap you set.”

Duran frowned. “How did you know that?”

Tristan shrugged, trying to look mysterious. In fact, he didn’t know; it had just been an educated guess. Any competent Adept would set a Trap card in a situation like this. It’d be embarrassing if you didn’t.

Frown deepening, Duran recalled his Trap, the card flying up from where it’d been embedded into the ground beneath him. Judging by his robes and his red sleeves, he’s a Fire user. Probably [Pyrowall] or something of the sort, a Trap that activates when an Attack is cast at its user, dispersing it and firing back.

In response, Tristan recalled Rommie, making a point to have the card fly through the air and snap into his hand. He made eye contact with the still-frowning man as he slotted the card back into his deck.

“Come,” Duran growled after a moment. “We’re about to make camp for the night. I believe we have much to discuss.”