The asphalt shimmered under the relentless summer sun, blurring the edges of the playground into a hazy watercolor. Soliam, perpetually late for his own life, jogged across the blacktop, his tie askew, his briefcase swinging precariously. He'd been working late again, crunching numbers for a spreadsheet that felt as endless as the cosmos itself. The usual Friday afternoon chaos reigned: shrieking children, the thump-thump-thump of basketballs, and the distant, muffled roar of traffic. It was, in a word, chaotic. But then he saw it – a flash of emerald scales writhing amidst the flurry of small legs and flailing limbs.
A small, vibrant green snake, no bigger than his thumb, was encircled by a gaggle of shrieking children, their faces a mixture of curiosity and gleeful terror. One particularly enthusiastic boy, wielding a stick like a miniature Excalibur, was about to deliver the final blow. Soliam, without thinking, launched himself into the fray, a blur of limbs and apologies. He scooped up the snake, its scales surprisingly smooth against his palm, and shoved it into the relative safety of his briefcase. The children, momentarily stunned into silence, erupted into a cacophony of complaints, accusations, and surprisingly accurate mimicry of a squawking chicken.
"It's just a snake, kids," Soliam said, trying to soothe their panicked wails. "It's not going to hurt you." He didn't feel entirely convincing, even to himself. The snake, now nestled amongst his paperwork, felt surprisingly warm against the cool leather. He'd always loved animals; it was a constant, a bright spot in a life otherwise dominated by spreadsheets and deadlines. Even the grumpy office cat, Mittens, held a special place in his heart. Mittens wouldn't judge him for rescuing a snake, would she?
But as Soliam turned to leave, a blur of motion caught his eye. A large, strangely colored bird, something he'd never seen before, swooped down from the sky. It wasn't the bird itself that surprised him, but the sheer speed, the unnatural grace of its movement. It was as if time itself slowed, allowing him to witness the event in excruciating slow motion. The bird's talons, sharp and curved like wicked scythes, struck him with the force of a sledgehammer. He didn't feel pain, not exactly. More a disorienting numbness, a strange calm settling over him.
His final thoughts were surprisingly clear. A wave of regret washed over him—missed calls to his mom, unfinished projects, that half-eaten sandwich in his refrigerator. He hadn't finished that book he'd started, the one with the grumpy dragon and the surprisingly chipper knight. Then, the regret faded, replaced by a strange sense of peace. He'd saved the snake. He'd done something good, something selfless, even if it was a little silly. The last thing he saw was the snake's emerald eyes, glowing faintly in the dim light of his briefcase. Then, darkness. Not the darkness of fear or pain, but a peaceful, velvety black that swallowed him whole.
The next moment, Soliam found himself sprawled on something soft and yielding. Panic clawed at him. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to a blurry, vibrant green. Where was he? The scent of damp earth, of a thousand unfamiliar flowers, filled his nostrils. He was surrounded by towering trees, their leaves a kaleidoscope of emerald, sapphire, and ruby hues. Sunlight, filtered through the dense canopy, dappled the forest floor, creating an ethereal, almost magical ambiance.
This wasn't the city park. This wasn't anywhere he'd ever been.
He sat up, his head swimming. The briefcase lay beside him, miraculously unscathed. As he reached for it, a shimmering, translucent screen materialized before his eyes. He gasped, his heart pounding. The screen displayed a series of lines of text, accompanied by surprisingly cheerful digital chimes.
Welcome to Aethelgard, Soliam Emmerson! the screen chirped. Your reincarnation is complete. Please familiarize yourself with the user interface.
Below the greeting, more text appeared, neatly organized into boxes and columns.
Name: Soliam Emmerson
Level: 1
Health: 75/100
Mana: 0/10
Strength: 5
Agility: 6
Intelligence: 7
Charisma: 3
Inventory: Empty
Quests: 1 Active
Soliam stared at the screen, his mind reeling. Reincarnation? Aethelgard? This was some sort of twisted joke, a fever dream brought on by too much caffeine and late nights. He glanced around, half-expecting to see his boss, Mr. Henderson, looming over him, a smirk on his face. But there was only the lush, vibrant forest, the songs of unseen birds, and the infuriatingly cheerful digital chimes of his… system?
He clicked on the "Quests" tab, his fingers trembling slightly. The single active quest was displayed:
Quest: A Squirrel's Plea
Objective: Assist the injured squirrel located near your current position. Reward: 5 experience points, 1 healing potion.
A healing potion? He looked down at his hands. They were clean, unmarked, save for a few minor scrapes. He hadn't felt any pain from the… incident… back in the park. So was he actually injured? It was all completely illogical, utterly absurd. He could have sworn the bird's talons were...lethal. Yet, here he was, in a fantasy world with an interactive user interface, being tasked with assisting a squirrel.
The digital chimes played again, this time a little more insistent. Please proceed to your quest objective, Soliam Emmerson. Time is of the essence, though I doubt you'll be overly burdened by that concept considering your past performance.
Soliam frowned. "Past performance?" He muttered, glancing around at the impossibly green, impossibly lush forest. He was an office worker, not a fantasy hero. His strongest weapon was his stapler, and he'd only ever used it to threaten exceptionally stubborn paper jams. This was beyond his comfort zone, beyond anything he'd ever imagined. But a little voice, perhaps the same voice that drove him to rescue the snake in the first place, urged him forward. He had a quest to complete. A squirrel to save. He was, after all, an accidental hero. And he wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at the sheer absurdity of it all. He decided to do both. He let out a shaky laugh, wiped a tear that trickled down his cheek, and started looking for the injured squirrel. The adventure, he suspected, was only just beginning. The system's condescending tone was already grating, even after a few minutes. This was going to be a long journey