Waylon's eyelids fluttered open, his mind groggy and disoriented. He blinked several times, trying to clear the haze clouding his vision. The last thing he remembered was the chaos at school—the collapsing building, the void swallowing everything. Had it all been a bizarre dream?
As his eyes adjusted, he realized he was lying on a cold, uneven surface. The air was damp and carried a faint, earthy scent. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he surveyed his surroundings. He found himself in a dimly lit cavern, the walls rough and glistening with moisture.
The only illumination came from an orange, fluorescent glow emanating from one of the cavern walls. At first, it appeared as though the wall itself was pulsing with light, creating an otherworldly ambiance. Curiosity piqued, Waylon rose unsteadily to his feet, his legs trembling from disuse.
He approached the glowing wall cautiously, each step echoing softly in the cavern's expanse. Upon closer inspection, he discovered that the light source was not the wall itself but thousands of small, bioluminescent insects clustered together. They moved slowly, their collective glow creating the illusion of a pulsing light.
Fascinated, Waylon watched as the insects navigated the damp surface, feasting on small fungi that sprouted from the cracks in the rock. The scene was both mesmerizing and unsettling, a stark reminder that he was far from the world he once knew. A shiver ran down his spine as he pondered his predicament.
"Where am I?" he murmured aloud, his voice barely more than a whisper. The cavern offered no response, the silence pressing in on him. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called out louder, "Hello? Is anyone there?"
His voice echoed back to him, amplifying the emptiness of the space. No answering call, no sign of life beyond the insects. The reality of his isolation began to sink in, and a knot of anxiety tightened in his chest.
Determined to find some clue about his situation, Waylon began to explore the cavern. The uneven ground was slick beneath his sneakers, forcing him to tread carefully. After a few minutes of searching, his foot nudged something soft yet solid.
Looking down, he saw a small pack partially obscured by a jutting rock. Hope sparked within him as he crouched to retrieve it. The pack was made of sturdy material, its surface slightly damp from the cavern's moisture.
He inspected the pack for any identifying marks but found none. With a deep breath, he unzipped it and peered inside. The first item he pulled out was a sheathed dagger, its hilt simple yet functional. He unsheathed it briefly, noting the sharpness of the blade before returning it to its cover.
Next, he found a tin container, its lid secured tightly. Prying it open, he discovered approximately twenty small green tablets and around sixty blue ones. They were unmarked, offering no hint of their purpose. Confusion knitted his brow as he wondered what they were for.
At the bottom of the pack lay an envelope sealed with an emblem of a golden tree. The elegant design stood out against the otherwise utilitarian contents. With trembling fingers, Waylon broke the seal and unfolded the letter within.
The letter began with an unexpected greeting: "Congratulations on surviving the transfer!" Waylon's eyes widened as he continued reading. "Your world has been selected from the countless habitable worlds to be promoted from the 3rd dimension into the 4th!"
His mind reeled, memories of his collapsing world flooding back. The void, the darkness—it hadn't been a dream. His entire reality had been... promoted? The concept was both baffling and terrifying.
The letter went on to explain that every sentient being from his world had been transported to a random location within this new dimension. Unlike his previous world, this environment was described as hostile, comprising twenty-six planets, each roughly the size of a small solar system. Waylon struggled to comprehend the sheer scale of such a place.
"A planet the size of a solar system?" he muttered incredulously. "And there are twenty-six of them?" The enormity of it was beyond his grasp, his mind unable to fathom such vastness.
The letter continued, stating that due to the violent nature of these worlds, they were routinely repopulated with beings from lower dimensions. This practice had led to various racial conflicts and wars, now commonplace in the 4th dimension. Waylon's heart sank at the prospect of such turmoil.
To mitigate premature deaths, the rulers of the twenty-six planets had agreed to provide each newcomer with a standard care package. The dagger he had found was forged to cut through the hide or scales of Class G beasts. He had no frame of reference to gauge whether that was impressive or not.
The letter also cautioned that their bodies were unaccustomed to the high mana density of this environment. They were advised to consume only the provided tablets for the next twenty days, as ingesting native food or drink could be fatal. The green pills contained sufficient nutrients for a grown male for one full day, while the blue ones supplemented hydration.
"Regardless of your species, these pills are a one-size-fits-all solution," the letter continued. "Good luck, and welcome to the 4th dimension!"
Waylon stared at the words, disbelief mingling with a growing excitement. He read the letter again, absorbing every word, searching for hidden meanings or clues he might have overlooked. This was real—it wasn't a dream, wasn't some twisted hallucination.
A spark ignited within him, a sensation he hadn't felt in years. Excitement coursed through his veins, and his fingers trembled slightly as he neatly folded the letter back into the envelope. He felt like a character straight out of one of the fantasy novels he'd spent countless hours devouring in solitude.
"A fresh start," he whispered, a small grin spreading across his face. "No more weakness. No more being invisible."
He clenched his fist, feeling a newfound sense of determination surge within him. The letter had mentioned mana; did that mean magic existed in this new dimension? The very thought sent a thrill down his spine.
He paused, the cavern's oppressive silence pressing in once more. His initial excitement faded slightly as a heavy weight settled on his chest. His family—had they survived? Were they also scattered across this incomprehensible realm?
Waylon's throat tightened, a sudden pang of fear gripping him. What if they hadn't made it? What if he was truly alone now, adrift in a hostile universe filled with unimaginable dangers?
He shook his head vigorously, refusing to let those dark thoughts take root. Now wasn't the time to despair. If this was truly his starting zone, as he believed, then he had work to do—levels to grind, monsters to conquer, and mysteries to unravel.
"Stop thinking like that," he scolded himself aloud. "They're strong. They'll be fine."
With renewed determination, Waylon stood taller, gripping the dagger tightly in his right hand. Its weight felt reassuring, a tangible reminder of his newfound purpose. He slung the pack over his shoulder, adjusting its straps for comfort.
Turning toward the cavern's exit—a shadowy opening barely visible in the dim light—Waylon allowed himself a final moment of hesitation. Beyond that darkness lay the unknown, a world he was utterly unprepared for, yet strangely eager to face.
A sheepish grin tugged at his lips, and he muttered quietly to himself, voice tinged with the nerdy confidence of someone who had dreamed of adventure his entire life.
"All right, Waylon," he said, steeling himself against the uncertainty ahead. "Let's go grind some levels."