Chapter 4: The Realization

Chapter 4: Chapter 4: The Realization

"Huh?" Daniel blinked. Then a wide, almost manic grin spread across his face. "Human. Hehehe. You’re a human!"

The man took a step back, his hand instinctively moving to his belt where a knife was sheathed. He stared at Daniel like he had just grown a second head.

"Are you alright, kid?" the man asked slowly. "Did the sun get to you? And what’s up with your clothes?"

Daniel looked down at his black t-shirt and jeans. They were covered in sand and sweat, but they were clearly not something anyone in this world would wear. He ignored the question entirely. His mind was focused on something far more important.

"Are there any women in that thing?" Daniel asked, pointing at the caravan. "Wait, do you have any women? Please say yes."

The man’s expression shifted from concern to pure disgust. He looked Daniel up and down like he was examining a particularly ugly insect.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" the man said, his voice flat. "Are you some kind of pervert?"

Daniel caught himself. He took a breath, forcing himself to calm down. He was getting ahead of himself. He needed information first. He needed to understand his situation before he started chasing after women.

"Sorry about that," Daniel said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "Am Daniel Black. Am lost and have no idea where I am or how I got here. But I do know this." He paused, looking the man directly in the eyes. "You’re not real. You’re in my head."

The man stared at him for a long moment. Then he shook his head slowly, a look of tired resignation on his face.

"You sure are a weird one," the man said. "Am Mac Tylon. And the only normal person currently here, as it may seem." He jerked his thumb toward the caravan behind him. "And also, there is one female in the caravan. But I won’t go close to her if I were y—"

Before the man could finish, Daniel was already running.

Mac watched him sprint toward the wagons, his expression shifting to something between amusement and pity. He shook his head again.

"Well," Mac muttered to himself. "His fucked."

Daniel reached the caravan in record time, his heart pounding with excitement. He spotted a wagon with a closed door and made a beeline for it. But before he could get close, two large men stepped in front of him, blocking his path. They were both tall and broad-shouldered, wearing simple leather armor and carrying swords at their hips. Guards.

"Sorry," one of them said, his voice firm. "We can’t allow you in."

Daniel looked at them. Then he laughed. A genuine, carefree laugh.

"You’re not real," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "You’re in my head. So am in charge. I can do anything. I can strip down right now and not feel ashamed."

The two guards exchanged a glance. The one on the left gave a small nod to the one on the right.

The guard on the right stepped forward and punched Daniel in the stomach.

The air left Daniel’s lungs in a violent rush. He doubled over, gasping, his eyes watering. The pain was sharp and immediate, radiating through his entire body.

"Oh god," he wheezed, clutching his stomach. "That hurts. Ouch. Ouch. Damn." He stumbled back, his legs nearly giving out. "What type of coma is this? Oh, am not supposed to feel pain."

He stood there, hunched over, trying to catch his breath. The guards watched him with cold, unimpressed expressions. The world around him was sharp and vivid. The heat of the sun. The grit of the sand. The throbbing ache in his gut.

And then it hit him.

Not the punch. Something else. Something far worse.

The realization crashed over him like a wave. This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t a coma. This wasn’t his imagination. The pain was real. The guards were real. The desert was real. The giant lizard and the massive bird were real.

He hadn’t been drugged by Chloe. He hadn’t been kidnapped by the mob. He wasn’t lying in a hospital bed somewhere.

He had transmigrated. Into a fantasy world.

Daniel straightened up slowly, his hand still pressed against his stomach. He looked at the guards. He looked at the caravan. He looked at the endless desert stretching out behind him.

He was here. He was actually here. And he had no idea how to get back.