It was only a small village, probably only had a few hundred—if a thousand—residents all in small homes mostly made of wood. They were a little bit dumpy, ramshackle if you were being nice. They were off centre and not at all symmetrical, it seemed a lot like the houses were built with the wood in mind, rather than the house. It was an interesting sight, not quite civilised, but not like the houses made of garbage that you see in some places back on Earth.

Most importantly, it felt fundamentally different than what was back on Earth. It truly was a ‘We’re not in Kansas anymore’ moment. What a strange feeling.

The streets were dirt, not that I expected any different, but I did expect there to be more people out. Just one or two, maybe. Maybe a bit of noise coming from a tavern or nearby home, but there was no sound at all, not a peep. It was most likely sometime in the early morning, but on Earth you could still find cars whizzing past on the main street. Things are different in this world, people actually slept.

It was still cool in the darkness of night, but the smells of the street made me crinkle my nose. They had clearly been heavily used by human and animal. You had to watch your step or you'd end up ankle deep in shit.

My body didn’t hurt nearly as much as it had before, whilst I was dragging the stupid hammer. But there was quite a bit of soreness, soreness that I knew would most likely be extreme muscle pain by tomorrow. I was not looking forward to that. Not at all.

The old man didn’t speak at all while we walked, so neither did I.

The air wasn't awkward, but the silence was still high strung. Questions to ask whirled in my mind, and I'm sure the other man had a similar amount. So, instead of taking in the open, silence was the only option.

Our steps resounded with the night, cutting through the darkness. It made me feel slightly less afraid walking through this town than if I were alone. I didn’t have the best impression of the guy, and to be perfectly honest I still didn’t that he'd even gotten close to torturing me... but he was growing on me. Mostly because I felt just a little safer around him.

We slowly approached a house that was just a little further away from the rest of the houses, but that wasn’t really what distinguished it from the rest. The house was immaculate. It wasn’t a mansion, of even as great as a modern home, but it was absolutely perfectly constructed. In comparison to the rest of the homes, this house’s planks were all perfectly cut, exactly the same length as the rest and excellently constructed.

The old man did a little half jog up the few steps to the front porch, a jog that I tried to do but pain flared through my legs and I decided to slow it right down.

“Alright. This is my home, room at the end of the hall to the left is where you’ll be staying. Tomorrow we’ll talk.” He turned to me, giving me one last glance before he disappeared into his house. I had assumed we were going to right into the talking, but it seemed like sleep was king.

I wasn’t going to complain, I desperately wanted some sleep, even if I knew that I would feel horrible in the morning.

The allure of sleep dangling just in front of me, I stumbled down the relatively long hallway. It'd been furnished with nice things, small keepsakes I assumed, but rather minimalistic otherwise. I stumbled like I was absolutely smashed and wandering my way home, minus the nausea, thank god. Opening the door to the room, I was greeted with a decent sized bed, sheets neat and tidy, small bedside counter, a chest of drawers. I can’t imagine that the old guy got visitors all that often, but this room was immaculate.

Not like I cared, I just about face planted into the bed, barely feeling its comfortable firmness before I began sleeping, clothed and all.

My eyes opened to a bright light shining through a massive window that I hadn’t noticed and pain. Oh, the pain.

I sighed, before twitching a leg muscle to gauge how bad the pain was. And it was pretty bad, but not quite as bad as I thought it would be, which was nice, but the pain that was ever present was pretty horrible.

For a while, my body was in the state where it was just telling me not to move at all, holding me hostage in my comfortable bed. Just to spite my body, I started to force myself to move, and as I did, I was quickly greeted with a notification for my troubles.

[A Good Night’s rest after a Long Day’s Work: A lot happened yesterday, pushing yourself as hard as you could. However, a good night’s rest did your body wonders. +1 Might and Agility]

Just as I started to complain about falling behind in Agility I gained some. This system is a weird one, granting so many stat ups didn’t really fit in the way I thought it would have. Not like I was going to complain about it, even if it really was stupid.

I stored the idea in my ‘ask old guy’ folder and moved on. I started to move again, trying my best to be gentle on my aching and creaking muscles. I had never done so much physical exercise ever, not since I was a kid, at least.

The fire in my legs didn’t go away when I stood, but I just ignored it the best I could at this point. Today was going to be interesting.

I brushed my clothes down with my hands subconsciously and a small cloud of dust appeared. I groaned, realising I’d just slept in the poor guy’s sheets with my dusty ass clothes on. I’d have to try cleaning them later for him. I definitely needed to clean my clothes, they were practically coated in dust, so much that I couldn’t even tell you where it all came from. I walked through a forest, for God’s sake, not a bloody desert.

I shook my head and moved to the door. I was sure I hadn’t closed it last night, so either it somehow closed on its own, or the old man was already up. I say “already” like I know what time it is, but really, I’m clueless. I’d guestimate around midday if I was to go on my sleeping habits from Earth.

Opening the door and then closing it behind me, I walked down to hallway while looking around. Now that there was proper light, I could see some of the little keepsakes that he had on shelves on the walls. I don’t know if any of them were of any specific value, of if they were this world’s version of souvenirs, but they sure were cool. Most of them I had absolutely no idea how to even describe, but a few of them were somewhat recognisable. Like, one of them was almost definitely a wand. It was intricately carved, in a way that for some reason felt like a young boy’s handiwork, adorned in sharp edges in the engravings. Curious, I picked it up, examining it closer.

I wasn’t going to actually do anything to it, seems like something an idiot would do, but it was fascinating. The engravings were a lot like what I saw on the hilt of my hammer. It was distinctly someone else. It gave tells to whose it was, but not quite enough to truly let me form a picture in my mind.

“Axen.” a clear, voice spoke from behind me, startling me. Before I turned to see the old man standing there in casual clothes, leaning on the doorway to what looked like the lounge room. He looked at me curiously with a cup of some hot drink in his hands.

“Axen?”

“It was his name,” the old man nodded towards the little wand, “he gave that to me as a gift for my 50th birthday.” He smiled slightly a good memory it seemed.

“It’s a wand isn’t it? Isn’t it valuable?” I asked, for some reason I wanted to know more. Holding this wand in my hands made me feel like I knew this Axen somehow. I wanted to know just a little bit more. Satiate my curiosity.

“Oh it is. It’s worth enough to start a small war over.” He chuckled as my eyes grew wide and I carefully placed the wand back on the little shelf it came off of, only daring to examine it from a distance.

“A wand is a valuable thing. Because only a few can make wands, only those born with the talent. To find the talent in the first place, you must be trained in shifting. There is no other way to tell,” he paused to take a sip of what I assumed was some sort of tea, “Many years ago I taught a young boy the basics of shifting while I was on my way through a village. Turns out that he had the talent, and this was his first wand before he eventually grew out of it. He managed to track me down years later to give it to me. He turned out to be a fine man.” The old man took another sip and chuckled, before turning to walk back into his lounge room.

I stood, somewhat stunned by the man’s explanation. I don’t know what shifting, was, but I’ll mentally replace it with magic, for the time being. I’m not sure what I expected but wasn’t he a little bit too nonchalant? He had this immensely valuable thing lying on a little shelf in a little wood shack in a small village. It sounded like he had forever changed this kid’s life! A chance encounter, that was for sure.

For a moment before I walked away, I looked at the small, engraved wand one last time. Just for a moment, a flash of recognition hit, a small boy with fiery red hair that looked like an explosion on his head grinned like a maniac, holding his prized possession in his hands, a carved wand.

Then it disappeared.

Wands can do cool memory stuff. Noted.

I turned and followed the old man into the lounge room, finding myself in the nicest part of the house. The place practically oozed comfort. It felt cosy just looking at it. The walls were adorned with bookshelves and books, maps and a hundred other points of interest. If the wand was anything to go off of, then these walls were likely lined with incredibly valuable things, one way or another.

The old man sat in a recliner, something that I was somewhat surprised by. I guess theoretically it wouldn’t be all that hard to make even with little technology. Regardless, he was sitting down by a fireplace, without the fire going of course, it was the middle of the day and it wasn’t even cold.

I eyed the chair sitting just opposite of him, over a small coffee-table that had his cup of tea on it. I walked over to the chair, but before I could sit, the old man stood up straight and extended his hand.

I wasn’t really sure what to make of it, but I hesitantly grabbed his hand, and he gave it a small but firm shake.

“Mayer Renue.” He said.

“Maximilian Avenforth. Max.” I said, following the trend of being succinct.

Mayer sat back down in his chair gently, and so did I, letting my legs rest once again, the pain slowly subsiding. There was a slow silence. I wasn’t sure what the silence meant, but I wasn’t going to be the one to break it. He could start with the questions. Mayer grunted, seemingly in understanding that he had to start and stopped to think for a second before speaking.

“You’re from Earth?” I was shocked a moment, before remembering that he seemed pretty knowledgeable about my situation, so I just nodded.

“Year?” He asked. I frowned, a strange question, but something I could answer, nonetheless.

“2019. Why?” When he heard my answer, he let out a low whistle and sunk into his seat for a moment, in thought. He resurfaced from his thoughts after a second.

“It’s been seventy years here since the last Champion War happened. But for you, the last one happened in 1999.”

“Huh, looks like Earth and…” I trailed off, realising I didn’t know the name of this world.

“Virsdis.” Mayer chimed in.

“Virsdis are on different time streams or whatever. Wouldn’t that mean that we aren’t really in the same universe? Is this another dimension entirely?” I asked, somewhat confused. This was a little bit too much like time travel for my liking. Time travel always ruins a good story.

“To be honest, I have no damn clue. This is the work of Gods, I have no doubt they have the answer, but Gods are notoriously tight lipped.” The old man placed his hand on his chin, stroking his beardless face. Lost in thought.

“What is it?” I asked, hoping to get some insight into why that was so important. Mayer looked up at me and after a moment, shrugged.

“Well, if it has only been twenty years over there, then he would still be alive.” He said.

“He?”

“An old friend of mine, one of the past Champion candidates.”

“Old friend?” I said, shocked. This guy knew the last generation of the Champion candidates? I hadn’t even known there was a last generation until a few moments ago.

“Yeah. He was a brilliant man, not any older than you are. Absolutely brilliant he was. A real leader. A warrior the likes I had never seen before, and likely never will again.” Meyers grinned to himself, memories flicking through his eyes, “His name was Ryan Hayes. Heard of him?” I frowned and shook my head.

“Unfortunate. I’m sure that he’s off doing something real important.” Mayer chuckled before picking up his tea and sipping on it again. As he did, a question popped into my mind.

“So, last night you said that you were sure that I wasn’t part of the Champions? What did you mean?” I asked. As I said it, the man burst out into a fit of laughing, before finishing it in a cough and a grin heavy on his face.

“Oh no, I didn’t mean that. You are definitely part of the Champions. I was talking more about what it was that they stand for.” He said, chucking a bit before taking another sip.

“Stand for?” I said, eyebrow raised.

“Well. Ryan told me years ago that the Champion candidates were the best and brightest that Earth had to offer; 50 super geniuses from across your world.” I frowned. That didn’t sound quite right. I wasn’t anywhere near smart enough to be calls a super genius. I wasn’t talented in any special way. What gives?

“Sorry to break it to you kid, but if you were one of these super geniuses you definitely wouldn’t have stayed here for the night. No way I would’ve let you.”