This time, the sensation was entirely different.

  It was as if someone had yanked me out of a dream—no gradual awakening, no smooth transition. One moment I was nowhere, and the next, I was standing in the middle of another world.

  My body, now fully tangible, felt undeniably alive. I was wearing simple clothes—a thick tunic made of coarse fabric and wide trousers that felt slightly rough against my skin. On my feet were heavy leather boots; not new, but broken in and comfortable. A sword hung at my belt—ordinary, unadorned, but with a solid, well-crafted hilt. I ran my hand over it. The metal was cold and heavy. Real.

  Beneath my feet, a glowing magic circle was slowly fading. Myriad runes and intricate swirls of indeterminate meaning were melting away like burning parchment. Their soft glow dissolved into the twilight. Obviously, this was a summoning circle—a spawn point. But instead of loading percentages and the clichéd "LOADING..." text, there was real magic, living air, and the dull echo of my own breath.

  I was standing in a small stone room, empty and almost devoid of detail. Everything around seemed slightly dusty, coated in the grime of time. The only light source was a dimly glowing crystal embedded in the ceiling, casting a soft, flickering violet hue across the walls. The interior was Spartan: no furniture, no windows. Just a door and the faint smell of dampness and old stone. I felt a chill slide over my skin under my clothes—not the programmed chill of a game, but the bone-deep cold of an ancient castle crypt.

  I stepped to the door, hesitated for a split second, and pulled the simple wrought-iron handle.

  Behind the door lay a different world.

  I stepped out onto a dirt road, nearly stumbling from the abrupt transition from gloom to bright morning sun. The smell of fresh air hit me in the face, a cocktail of damp earth, wildflowers... and manure.

  Yeah, not everything was perfect. A horse and rider were passing by at a leisurely pace, and the beast, without a care in the world, unburdened itself right in the middle of the road. The air instantly acquired a distinct rustic flavor. I reflexively covered my nose.

  Taking a couple of steps, I crouched down and plucked a blade of grass. It was wet with dew, cool, threaded with tiny veins. I twirled it between my fingers, feeling the resistance, hearing the barely audible snap as I broke it. I brought it to my face and inhaled the scent—green, fresh, slightly sweet.

  This wasn't graphics. This was reality.

  I couldn't believe my eyes. No game, not even one with god-tier immersion tech, had ever achieved this level of detail. There was always pixelation, muddy shadows in the distance, "soapy" textures on small objects like pebbles or leaves. But here? Every grain of sand under my boot was flawlessly real.

  Then I looked up, and my voice died in my throat.

  A city sprawled before me. Stalls lined the road, merchants shouting their wares to passersby. People scurried back and forth, busy with their daily grind. But it wasn't just humans; other races walked among them.

  Yet all of that faded against the backdrop.

  In the distance towered a castle. Its architecture looked like a mashup of the High Middle Ages and the Renaissance—light stone, spires, and ornate towers sparkling in the sunlight. But even the castle wasn't the main event.

  Behind the castle, dominating the horizon, hung a massive planet.

  Real. With atmospheric clouds and a faint, ethereal blue glow. It filled half the sky.

  I stood there with my mouth open, unable to form a single word. Goosebumps raced down my arms. A sense of scale and grandeur I would never, ever see back home.

  "...hero. Sir Hero, please, wake up..."

  The voice was soft, melodic, almost musical, but laced with worry—it seemed she had been trying to get my attention for a while.

  I blinked, surfacing from my trance, and turned my head.

  Standing before me was a girl. And not just a girl, but a bona fide Elf. Everything about her was elegant, from her refined features to her fluid movements. Long scarlet hair cascaded over her shoulders, shimmering with copper and garnet in the sun. Scarlet. Real, not dyed. No stylist on Earth could achieve that saturation. And her eyes... huge, blue, slightly slanted. You could drown in them.

  I admit, I was flustered.

  "Sorry, were you talking to me?" It was all I could manage. My brain was still buffering, trying to process everything from the pod to the planet in the sky.

  "Yes, Sir Hero. We received notification that new heroes from your world would arrive soon. We were prepared to receive you. You are the first of the six expected. I am Lara, a retainer of the ruler of Evandar, Lady Kalindra." She gave a small bow, her voice polite but restrained.

  I tried to pull myself together. Time to introduce myself. Then it hit me... I hadn't picked a name. My real one felt too earthly, too mundane. "Igor Rudin" in a world of swords and sorcery? I'd sound like a quest-giving peasant in a starter village. But using a stupid gamertag like xXx_Slayer_xXx was even worse.

  For some reason, my brain decided to remind me of a certain Austrian painter from history, or maybe a cult leader with a cool-sounding name...

  "My name is... Alistair. Sorry for the pause," I blurted out, silently thanking my synapses for not firing off "Hitl..." That would have been a PR disaster.

  "Alistair. A pleasure to meet you, Sir," Lara replied with a faint smile.

  As we spoke, I realized how natural the language felt. I hadn't studied this. I just spoke and understood it as if I’d been born here. I couldn't even tell what language I was thinking in anymore. It felt... organic. Like it had always been part of me.

  "Sir Alistair, allow me to explain a little about our world. We are always gladdened by the appearance of heroes from beyond. Their deeds invariably leave a deep mark on our history," she began, walking slowly along the dusty road. I fell into step beside her.

  Her stride was light, almost weightless; she seemed to glide rather than walk. To be honest, I expected Elves to be... different. Taller? More ethereal? Skinnier? I don't know. Lara wasn't fat, but her figure was very... human. She had curves that would give Anastasia a run for her money. If not for the long ears and the anime-red hair, I wouldn't have guessed she was a different species.

  Speaking of the ears—they were cool. I had a sudden, weird urge to touch them.

  "Don't you need to wait for the other heroes?" I asked, looking around. If I was the first, the others had to be close behind.

  "Other retainers of Lady Kalindra will greet them. We have distributed the duties," Lara answered calmly.

  I followed her gaze and spotted five other figures nearby. Two humans; one short, stocky guy who was definitely a Dwarf; and two strange creatures with avian features and beaks. Were those masks or faces? It was hard to tell. Weirdly, none of it looked like CGI. It felt natural.

  "Lead the way," I nodded.

  "Our country, Zantaria, has not seen heroes for eight hundred years. Then, five years ago, a new hero appeared. He prophesied that others would soon arrive. We were heartened and began preparations." Her voice was calm, but the speech felt rehearsed. A standard "Welcome to the Server" lecture.

  First quest? Looks like it. Lore dump: world, politics, history. Classic.

  "We prepared summoning circles to ensure you were not scattered across the lands. You are currently in Evandar, on the southwestern border of Zantaria. Beyond lies Astalion, a nation ruled by Dark Elves and their monstrous allies."

  Lara’s face changed. The neutral, polite mask cracked. Contempt and... anger flashed in her eyes. Her lips tightened. Yeah, geopolitical tensions were definitely a thing here.

  "So, they're the local 'bad guys' and 'enemies of all things good'?" I muttered. Typical setting. Light vs. Dark. Good Elves vs. Evil Scum. A bit cliché, but I didn't sign up for the plot twists.

  At that moment, the horse manure—which I had stepped right into while gawking at the planet—reminded me of its existence. It clung to my boot, generously sharing the "aroma of fantasy realism."

  Well then... Ryabinsky wasn't lying about the sensory input. Top-notch immersion.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  "Oh, do not worry. You will soon be rid of those rags," Lara said with a slight smile, as if reading my mind. "You will be provided with equipment befitting a hero's status."

  I looked doubtfully at my boots and trousers. "Rags" was putting it mildly. The clothes felt like theatrical props: heavy, but cheap and itchy. The cuffs were already chafing my wrists. So much for the glamour of VR.

  "Sorry, can I ask something off-topic?" I decided to clarify the terminology before I put my foot in my mouth. "What race are you? Where I come from, people like you are called Elves."

  She blinked in surprise, hesitating for a split second. Her eyes darted away, as if she were choosing her words carefully.

  "I..." she started. "In our country, Zantaria, there are four races: Humans, Elves, Dwarves, and Borids. Distinguishing them is simple. Humans are like you. Numerous, inventive, energetic. Sadly, short-lived. Elves are distinguished by elongated ears, refined appearances, and... a love for cleanliness," she added with a touch of irony. "Dwarves are stocky, not tall, but very strong. They prefer underground dwellings or houses with deep basements. Often rough, but unsurpassed craftsmen. And the Borids... they are unique. Their legends bind them to an ancient god named Horus. Bird-like beings possessing incredible speed and sight."

  "Horus?" I couldn't resist. "You mean, like in Egyptian mythology?"

  Lara didn't answer, just bowed her head slightly.

  I mentally sighed. Project Artea apparently didn't bother with originality. Copy-pasting gods from Earth myths? Lazy, but efficient. Though, honestly, the Borids looked cool. I wondered how they managed to talk with beaks. Parrots manage it, I guess.

  "We have compiled a list of key locations recommended for all heroes," Lara continued. "This will help identify where your talents lie. Perhaps you will become a skilled mage. Or a legendary craftsman, or a master of combat. The choice is yours."

  Her voice was restrained, but was that... anticipation? Or was I imagining it?

  "I will accompany you during the initial stages. You are not merely a guest; you are a hero. As a human, you possess innate mental flexibility and adaptability. That makes you... unique."

  I nodded, listening with interest. My posture straightened a little. That phrase actually made me feel important. I wondered if they gave that speech to every "hero" who rolled off the assembly line.

  "Where are we heading now?"

  "First, new clothes. It is improper for a hero to walk the streets in such attire." Her gaze flicked to my rags, and I swore I saw a spark of genuine sympathy. "It would cast a shadow upon Lady Kalindra. We cannot allow such disgrace."

  I chuckled. Even in a parallel world, image was everything. It wasn't just sword and sorcery; it was sword, sorcery, and PR.

  The tailor's shop greeted us with the scent of leather and lavender. It was cool and quiet inside, with racks of clothing lining the walls like an upscale boutique.

  "We need something practical, yet worthy," Lara stated, taking charge.

  I felt awkward. I didn't have a copper to my name. I hadn't spawned with a starter wallet.

  Lara seemed to understand. She moved to a rack of shirts, selected a dark blue one made of thick fabric, and stepped in close to hold it against my chest.

  I froze.

  She was close. Too close. I caught the scent of her hair—floral, with a hint of bitter herbs. Her fingers brushed my shoulder as she adjusted the fabric. Her skin was warm.

  "Good fit in the shoulders," she murmured, not meeting my eyes. A faint blush dusted her cheeks. "You are broader than you appear."

  "Thanks. I guess," I smirked. "Listen, Lara, this feels weird. I'm broke. I feel like a gigolo being taken shopping by his sugar momma."

  She looked up. Amusement danced in her eyes.

  "A gigolo?" She tilted her head. "I do not know this word, but you need not worry, Alistair. These are treasury expenses. Lady Kalindra allocated a budget to equip the heroes. Consider it a blessing from our ruler."

  She picked out trousers for me—thick, dark gray, feeling like denim but softer. She explained the fabric was woven with strengthening magic so they wouldn't rip in the first skirmish. Next came a tanned leather jacket and new boots.

  When we reached the counter, Lara produced a purse and counted out two gold coins.

  "Two gold pieces?" I asked quietly as we left. "Is that a lot?"

  "Enough for a common family to live comfortably for a month," she replied calmly.

  I whistled. I was wearing a year's salary for a peasant. I looked like a mercenary or a traveler now, not a bum. But the sense of debt itched.

  "I'll pay it back," I said firmly. "As soon as I earn it."

  Lara looked at me with mild surprise, as if she wasn't used to "heroes" caring about the bill.

  As we walked through the streets, Lara gave me a crash course on magic—a prelude to the Magic Academy, which was on the "recommended" list.

  The world of Artea is saturated with mana. It's used by everyone—mages, warriors, even craftsmen. It just depends on the application. Magic here is divided into four main types.

  First: Evocation. Blunt, direct use of one's own mana. Energy bursts out as a blast, a shockwave, or an elemental volley. Simple, fast, but limited by the mage's battery.

  Second: Invocation. The classics. Recite a spell, focus mana, gather ambient energy, and shape the result. Fireballs, ice walls. More complex, requires time and knowledge, but far more versatile.

  Third: Convocation. Summoning. Spirits, elementals, or forbidden things from the other side. Dangerous, unstable, and heavily regulated.

  Fourth: Inscription. Magic circles, runes, symbols. Traps or devices activated by mana. Glowing crystals, summoning circles, artifacts, scrolls—all Inscription.

  To become a Fourth Circle Mage, you need mastery in one type. Third Circle requires mastery in three. Second Circle means mastery in three and expert status in one. And the First Circle... that’s the elite. Legends. Lady Kalindra was one. Lara, it turned out, was a Third Circle Mage. Which meant... she was seriously dangerous.

  "Magic sounds fascinating," I said. "But decades of study isn't really my style."

  "I understand," Lara replied. I detected a hint of disappointment. "But I still recommend you try. Who knows where your talents lie?"

  I just nodded.

  "I will now escort you to the inn where you can rest. Lady Kalindra has reserved it exclusively for the heroes."

  Honestly? I was glad. We hadn't been walking long, but mental exhaustion was setting in. Plus, my stomach was reminding me that I hadn't eaten since my "birth."

  The inn was two stories tall. We were greeted at the entrance by a stocky figure with a thick beard... and a high-pitched voice.

  Surprisingly, it was a woman. A Dwarf woman with a beard.

  Yikes. My brain flashed to images of old circus freak shows. But here, it wasn't a show. Just the reality of Artea.

  "A room for Sir Alistair. He is one of the heroes," Lara announced, presenting a token.

  "Of course. Follow me, Sir Alistair," the Dwarf woman nodded, leading me up stairs that creaked ominously under her bulk.

  "I will return for you tomorrow morning, and we will begin the search for your talents," Lara said in parting.

  "I'll be waiting," I replied.

  My room was... modest, to put it mildly. If this was the VIP suite for heroes, I didn't want to see the economy rooms. A bed, a table, a chair, and a window. There was a door, probably a privy, but I didn't need it yet. Second floor. I could jump if I had to bail. Though... bail to where? And why?

  I sat on the bed—and nearly sank to the floor. The mattress was unexpectedly soft, like collapsing into a cloud. It felt good.

  But sitting there, alone in the dim violet light of the ceiling crystal, smelling the musty wood, a terrifying realization hit me.

  I didn't know how to log out.