Online In Another World

As he walked around the town that smelled of freshly baked dough and manure at the same time, he stopped as something caught the corner of his way.

In the alleyway to his left, he saw what looked to be a young girl, wrapped in a tattered cloth, hiding within it as she held out a rusty cup.

A beggar.

I guess some things are the same between worlds, huh? He thought.

With the bulging sack of coins in his possession, he stood there for a moment before moving down the tucked-away, quiet alley, retrieving a coin from the sack.

What's another coin, anyway? He thought.

"Here you go."

Holding a smile, he bent down as he dropped the coin into the cup. It jingled, bouncing off of the metallic interior of the coin holder.

It was a nice feeling to help somebody out; it was something he didn't experience often, as he was the one that always needed charity himself before.

Though that smile of his faded as the small figure looked up, revealing a wicked grin of blackened, rotten teeth from not a young girl, but an old man with twisted features.

"What…?"

"Thanks, kid," the person spoke with a raspy voice.

–Just then, he noticed the shadows looming over him. A shiver ran up his spine as he could sense the ill intentions oozing off of who stood behind him.

As he spun around to face them–THWACK.

All that he remembered was a large fist smashing against his face before everything went black.

It was a valuable lesson the naive young man learned, who had been sheltered the entirety of both of his lives thus far: don't walk down creepy alleyways.

–

"Ugh…"

He groaned, slowly parting his eyelids as the ceiling above was hazy from his spinning vision. It felt like a hammer was constantly knocking against his skull; it was nothing less than a nauseating migraine.

What happened…? He questioned.

What immediately greeted him was the unpleasant stench of wherever he was; it smelled of ammonia and damp stone.

As he instinctively moved his arms, he found his wrists bound behind his back, and the same was for his ankles.

"What…?"

He looked down, finding himself laying on a grimy, stone floor in a dark, empty room. To say it was empty wasn't exactly right–

Squeak. Squeak.

Rats could be seen coming and going from small holes in the walls; that explained the smell of ammonia.

However, little else was explained to his confused, concussed mind.

What is going on here…? How did I get here? He questioned.

The sound of water dripping from the ceiling filled his ears along with the semi-frequent squeaks of rodents; he took a moment to quietly look around, making sure there was nobody else directly around.

He seemed to be alone.

Come on–think. What happened last…? He thought.

As he racked his brain for an answer, the throbbing pain it felt served as a reminder as that last, brief memory resurfaced.

That's right…! I found that creepy guy, then there were two people behind me–I think they knocked me out…He thought.

"Who just randomly socks a kid…?" He mumbled to himself.

If these people were clearly alright with punching and abducting a young boy like himself, they were clearly a problem.

As he scooted, sitting up as he leaned against the back wall, he set his gaze forward, looking at the singular door that sat at the end of the small, dank room.

These are dangerous people. I'm guessing there's probably somebody right outside of that door, he thought.

After sitting there for a minute to take in his surroundings, getting an idea of what was around him, he began to hear muffled voices beyond the metal, jail-like door.

"Did you send the letter out already?"

"Yeah. It'll probably take a few nights to reach the Luwrell Domain. But, I'm sure that creepy bastard will buy up our little Dragonheart, he-he."

He took note of the fact that they mentioned his surname; it was something that struck a deeper cord in him of dread. It didn't feel like a random act of misfortune, but something intended for him specifically.

"Luwrell is one sick bastard, but he does pay well. Last kiddie we sent him ended up fed to the hounds once his "use" was over, apparently."

"I don't give a shit what he does with the kids as long as he pays."

"Same here. Long as he gives me a shiny coin, he's prince charmin' to me! Ha-ha!"

The conversation between the two men with gravelly accents was less than comforting for him to eavesdrop on.

…I knew I was kidnapped, or something like that…but they're planning on selling me? Hold on, this is a game, isn't it? At least, it's something artificial, right…? Why would this be an aspect of it? I don't see developers adding an event like this in…He thought.

Even though he tried to rationalize the fact that this was all artificial, he knew well that simply wasn't the case. In every capacity, this was reality for him. The smells that met his nose unpleasantly, the harsh, uncomfortable stone he sat his rear against, and the soreness of his bound wrists and ankles.

It was real; there was simply no arguing otherwise by what his own senses told him.

"Well, I'm not sticking around to be sold off to some sleazy rich guy…" He mumbled to himself.

Leaning forward, he held his tied-together wrists out behind him as he manifested a rocky protrusion from the ground.

It was in the shape of a small spear, reaching up just enough for him to cut his own bindings and free his hands. After freeing the use of his arms, he quickly and quietly unwrapped his ankles, finally standing up.

Easy does it, he thought.

–And just as he freed himself, he heard heavy footsteps approaching the door.

"...Oh, crap," he whispered.

Before the door could be opened, he swiftly slapped his palm against the ground, commanding a stone wall to emerge from the ground directly in front of the entrance to the room, sealing it off.

"--Huh? It won't open!"

SLAM.

The rough voice of one of the kidnappers yelled out before the door started being slammed harshly.

"What the hell?! Open up!"

Now both men seemed to be bashing against the door. Each time they struck the entrance, the rocky barrier trembled, forming small cracks.

…That won't hold forever. I need to find a way out of here, he thought.