A loud crack split the air.
The gate was closing.
Ahrie and Daiki froze, then glanced at each other.
Both turned back to the crowd, scanning faces.
"Have you seen him yet?" Ahrie asked.
Daiki shook his head "No."
The girl with the sprout on her head cupped her hands to her mouth.
"Congratulations on surviving the Trial. Welcome to Sylvaren."
I’m Lyra. Chief of the Fog Villages around here. Follow me—we’ll head to the village."
Some people rose at once, desperate for direction.
Others just sat, trembling, afraid to move.
Ahrie and Daiki didn’t budge. Their eyes stayed locked on the gate, same as a handful of others, waiting for the ones who still hadn’t come through.
Lyra clapped her hands, cheerful.
"There are plenty of Fog Villages across Sylvaren. We’re the ones responsible for guiding creatures who pass the Trial. So, if you don’t see your friends here..." She paused, lips curling.
"...they’re probably safe in another village."
The crowd let out a shaky breath.
Lyra tilted her head, still smiling.
"Or, you know... they’re dead. Hehe."
The crowd stiffened—relief snapped into stone faces, a few throats swallowed hard, no one dared laugh.
"Any questions before we proceed?" Lyra asked, voice sweet.
A girl raised her hand. "C-Can we go back to Earth?"
Lyra tapped her chin, flipped through her manual, then snapped her fingers.
"Ah, Found it. There’s a little hole at the back of the gate. You can’t see it from here, but crawl in and pooof... you’ll be spat right back where you came from." She gave the crowd a wink.
Broken bodies, missing limbs, and those without the nerve all limped toward the hole.
Lyra waved after them. "Good luck..." then dropped her voice into a whisper, almost to herself.
She spun on her heel, sprout bobbing with the motion.
"Alright then, follow me. The village is this way."
The rest trailed after her. Bloodied, limping, but stubborn enough to keep walking.
Ahrie and Daiki fell in with them, step for step.
Fog thickened with every step. The view went blurry, damp, hushed.
"Fog village is the safest place for newcomers," Lyra called back, cheerful as ever.
"There, you’ll find information, shelter, and your very first skill...Oh, speaking of—did you pick up a coin on the way here?"
The crowd murmured, uncertain.
Daiki leaned toward Ahrie, whispering, Pssst! You got one?"
"Yup." Ahrie replied.
"...Shit. I forgot mine." Daiki bops his forehead.
"That coin? It’s used to acquire skill," Lyra said sweetly. "Super rare. Hard to come by, by the way."
Daiki’s face went stiff. "...Damn."
Lyra glanced back, batting her lashes at the crowd.
"But if you forgot to pick it up, don’t worry. It might already be in your inventory. Just say... Inventory."
Around him, voices rose—dozens chanting "Inventory! Inventory!"
Lyra pressed her fingers to her lips, giggling. "Pff. Nope. Sorry. No such thing here... i picked it up from a human a while back." ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭•𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢•𝓷𝓮𝓽
The crowd froze. Stunned.
Ahrie doubled over, laughing until his broken arm hurt.
"She got you good—HAHAHA!"
Daiki grinned, jaw tight. "That bitch—" he raised a fist, ready to swing.
Ahrie lifted his arms, crossing his good one with the broken one in a jagged X. then jabbed a finger toward where dinner had been yeeted across the plains.
Daiki caught the hint. His nod was so quick it could’ve snapped his neck.
After a while, they broke through the fog.
The Fog Village loomed ahead.
Thick walls, a gate like a slab of stone. Scouts on top shouted down.
"The chief is back! Open the gate!"
The hinges groaned. Beyond, a wide street bustled with figures that looked human... except for the green sprouts at their head.
At the far end, a massive tower, they were led straight to it.
Inside a tall chamber, Lyra clapped her hands. "Everyone, sit."
The group dropped into the chairs laid out, murmurs rippling.
"Okayyy, listen up!" Lyra shouted, "Newcomers get two days here. On the third, the village fades into fog and—pooof— you wake up dumped somewhere in the forest. Fun, right?"
Lyra puffed her cheeks, then giggled. "Oh, don’t look at me like that. Try this—shout Gylph. It’ll show your info. Some humans called it... stats, I think?"
"Pff...seriously, not joking this time."
One by one, voices rang out. "Gylph."
A faint screen blinked into view for all of them.
"Health...100. Mana... 100." Daiki muttered, squinting.
Ahrie checked his own.
Daiki leaned closer, eyes narrowing. "Well, well, well... what do we—" his words cut. His jaw dropped. "The Hell...?"
He jabbed a finger at the numbers. "Why are your stats... 1.5? Strength, intelligence, speed...all of it?!"
Ahrie peeked at Daiki’s in return. Half of them hovered between 0.8 and 1.2
A slow smirk spread across his face. "Because..." he said, voice low and smug, "you’re trash."
Lyra clapped her hands once, cutting through the noise.
"Library’s that way." she jabbed a finger left.
"Training grounds that way." She pointed right.
Then she blinked, tilted her head.
"Oh—oops. Almost forgot. Hehe. Medical facility’s over there. Go fix yourselves up."
Her smile sharpened as she scanned the room.
"For those without coins, wander the village all you like. Just don’t step past the walls... once you do, you won’t be able to come back."
Her eyes flicked back, playful.
"For those with coins... let’s get your shiny new skill!"
Chairs scraped. Ahrie stood with the handful who had theirs.
Beside him, Daiki bit into the collar of his shirt, seething.
They followed the spiral stair to the top of the tower.
The chamber above opened wide, polished stone gleaming, gold trims catching light.
Too rich. But it was too empty.
At the center stood a single thing.
A cheap-looking gacha machine.
Brows furrowed. Whispers broke.
Lyra strolled in behind them.
"Uh... Ms. Lyra," someone asked, hesitating, "Where do we... get the skills?"
Lyra’s finger shot straight at the machine.
Silence. Blank stares.
"Line up! She chirped. "Grab your skill, then explore the town. Chop! Chop!"
"Whew..." the first girl stepped forward. She pulled out her coin, dropped it into the gacha machine, and spun the handle.
The thing rattled like it was about to break apart.
Hands clasped tight, eyes shut, she whispered something under her breath.
The coin clinked down its pathway—then warped out of existence.
A dim room. Four strange beings sat around a crooked table, paper in hand.
"Her Ent suggests that her skill progression is leaning towards mages." one murmured.
"Oho... destructive. I like mages," another grinned.
"Approved," said the third.
The last one slammed the table. "No, no, no! Too dangerous—we need precautions!"