Noah wiped the sweat off his brow as he trudged past the southern edge of the Solumbrian camp. The air had grown heavier, stickier, as if the sun itself was pressing down on him like a weight. It had to be mid-morning, judging by the way the light streamed through the sparse treetops, forming shimmering patterns on the dirt path below. It wasn't exactly a trail—more like the leftover stamp of movement, as if a group had come this way once and never returned.
"Figures," Noah muttered to himself, adjusting the collar of his funeral suit. The once-slick blazer now clung to him with sweat and swamp-air grime. "I land in a whole new world and end up walking through... a haunted marsh?"
He hadn't seen another soul since leaving the Solumbrian territory. Just trees, heat, and the occasional bug dive-bombing his head. He knew better than to expect hospitality in a land where even the locals barely tolerated his presence. Still, it felt... weirdly quiet. Not peaceful—too much tension in the air for that—but like something was holding its breath.
Then he saw it.
Up ahead, across a wide stretch of boggy clearing, something massive rose out of the murky water. Noah froze instinctively, ducking low behind a crooked old tree that leaned like it had been watching this path for years.
There it was. A creature unlike anything Noah had seen before.
Three long, sinewy necks extended upward from a single thick body. Their heads were like monstrous snakes with jagged horns, scaled eyes, and flesh-stained teeth. One of them—glistening with old blood—clamped down on what looked like the remains of a giant boar. The other two heads nuzzled each other lazily, as if bored of the kill.
"A hydra..." Noah whispered. His heart thumped wildly. "Just like in the myths."
The creature was enormous, easily the length of two football fields away, but even from here, it was clear: it could crush him without lifting more than a toe.
Then, the head that had been devouring its prey stopped chewing. Slowly, it turned. It sniffed the air once. Twice.
Its eyes locked on Noah.
Noah didn't move. Not even a breath.
And then—without speaking aloud, a voice cut into his thoughts. It wasn't sound. It was just there. In his head.
"Run, little human."
The voice was raspy, ancient, and powerful. It echoed in his mind like distant thunder. Noah felt his knees shake.
"We have fed today. You pose no danger. We pity you, though we do not trust your kind."
Despite everything in him telling him to bolt, Noah didn't move. Not out of bravery, but because of the sheer shock. "You can talk?" he blurted out before catching himself. "I mean—sorry—I didn't mean to intrude or spy or anything."
The hydra creature blinked slowly. The voice replied again.
"We are Turleidon. Keeper of this swamp. Guardian of balance. Swamp King to the beasts of ...this ecosystem"
Turleidon. Even the name sounded ancient.
Noah felt the voice not just in his mind but in his bones, like it was being written into him.
Turleidon continued, its other two heads still resting lazily against each other like affectionate old snakes. "Humans often come here with blades, traps, or fire. But you come only with fear. That... we respect."
Noah stepped out from behind the tree. His legs still trembled, but he made himself stand tall.
"I'm not here to hurt anyone. I don't even have a weapon," he said, lifting his empty hands. "I just... woke up here, and I'm trying to figure things out."
There was a long pause. The creature's heads turned toward one another, almost as if they were debating.
Then the voice came again.
"You speak truth. We sense no malice in you. Unusual for your kind."
Noah exhaled, his shoulders dropping a little. "Thank you. I mean it."
Turleidon leaned forward just slightly, its massive shadow stretching toward him. "If you wander this world, human, know this: strength is not always the ability to destroy. Sometimes, it is the will to protect. Be strong... and be kind. The world needs fewer tyrants and more noble souls."
With that, all three heads dove into the boggy waters, vanishing with a wet splash that echoed across the marsh. The ripple of its presence faded. The tension lifted like mist.
Noah stood there for a while, staring at the spot where the Swamp King had disappeared. The silence returned, thicker than before.
"Well," he muttered, "either I'm hallucinating... or I just had a conversation with a three-headed nature god."
He walked again, slowly, still processing what had just happened. That voice—it had been too vivid to be a dream. And the creature had looked at him. Not through him. At him. Like it saw something more than just a clueless, powerless stranger.
He touched his arm where the Solumbrian had burned him earlier. The pain had faded to a dull throb now. He remembered what the creature had said too. About getting stronger.
Something shifted in his chest.
All his life, Noah had been playing catch-up. Mourning losses, recovering from heartbreak, reacting. But this world—it didn't wait for anyone. It threw you into the deep end and watched if you could swim.
Maybe it was time he stopped drifting.
As he continued south, he passed through thickening foliage, the trees curling in around him like guardians of some forgotten path. The sun was high now, filtering through the leaves in shards of gold.
He found a dry patch beneath an old willow and slumped down, exhausted. His breath slowed. His eyes flickered.
That was when it happened.
A soft chime. A flicker in the air above his vision, like light catching on water. Then—
A translucent screen appeared in front of him, floating silently. His heart skipped.
"What the hell...?"
On the screen were two numbers, glowing faintly: 12.
He exhaled. "A power level...? Like some kind of game?"
The number 12 hovered at the top—and it said SBT power ranking- 12.
" 12 ?, 12 for what is it my combat level or something?"
That made sense. He had no weapon, no training, and barely survived his encounter with the Solumbrian. If the Turleidon had wanted to eat him, he'd have been nothing but a snack.
But still—the fact that the screen appeared at all meant something. There was power here. Systems. Maybe he just hadn't unlocked his part of it yet.
And now? Now he had something to aim for.
Noah lay back against the tree, looking up through the leaves.
"I guess the only way is up."
The screen dimmed and faded, almost as if responding to his thoughts.
As sleep began to creep in, he had one final thought before slipping into dreams.
Maybe, just maybe, this world wasn't trying to break him.
Maybe it was giving him a chance to build something new.
END OF CHAPTER
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--World Facts for all--
Long before kingdoms and guilds rose in Opusterra, seven ancient beings were appointed by the god of Neoabianka to preserve balance in nature. These are known as the "Silent Guardians" - sentient, primordial creatures bound to their domains and feared even by kings.
One such guardian is Turleidon, the Swamp King, a three-headed beast that resembles the mythical hydra. He protects the marshlands of southern Opusterra and is known to:
* Control the density and movement of the swamp fog.
* Uses telepathy to communicate with humans.
* Regenerate from wounds unless burned by celestial fire(special type of fire used by Gods).
* Paralyze weaker creatures with his breath (each head releases a slightly different effect).
Despite their terrifying appearances, Silent Guardians do not attack unless provoked or unless the natural balance is threatened. It is said only seven exist, one for each sacred biome of the continent.