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I was positioned at the rear of the caravan as we departed from the village, the sound of creaking wheels and the gentle murmurs of traders filling the air. The road stretched ahead, flanked by vast farmlands where farmers toiled under the warm sun, harvesting crops. The scenery was breathtaking—endless fields of golden wheat swaying in the breeze, the occasional fruit tree laden with ripened produce, and a sky so brilliantly blue it seemed almost unreal. It was a beauty I had never seen in my real life. I found myself mesmerized by the sheer simplicity of it all. For a brief moment, I forgot about the dangers that lurked in this world, and even my hand, which had instinctively rested on the hilt of my sword, relaxed.

The first leg of the journey passed without incident. My thoughts wandered, taking in the newness of everything around me. It felt strange to be here, in a world so vivid, so detailed, yet one I knew only from a screen in my past life. The contrast between the game I used to play and the reality I now face was unsettling. This was no longer just a game; it was a living, breathing world, and I was a part of it. I shook off the unease and kept pace with the group.

A few hours in, the caravan leader, a man named Manes, called for a halt. We were near a river, and he instructed us to rest and have lunch. I was assigned to go with him to fetch water from the river. As we walked, I decided to make conversation. He seemed like a man of experience—his movements were calm, calculated, and precise. His presence commanded respect.

“So, Manes, how long have you been leading caravans?” I asked, trying to break the silence.

“I’ve been doing this for a while now,” he replied without much enthusiasm. “But before this, I served in the Imperial Army. I was a Menavliaton.”

A Menavliaton? That was a prestigious rank, an officer who led soldiers into battle. I couldn’t help but be curious. “Why leave such an important position? The empire grants many benefits to officers. Surely, it wasn’t easy to walk away.”

At my question, Manes fell silent, his expression hardening. For a few moments, the only sound was the soft rustling of the grass beneath our feet and the distant chirping of birds. I realized I might have hit a sensitive topic and decided not to push further. We reached the riverbank, and I knelt to fill the water bucket. As I did, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the water—dark hair, black eyes. It struck me that my appearance helped me blend in with the citizens of the Empire.

For now, it was safer to assume the identity of an Imperial citizen. The Empire, though fractured, still held sway over nearly 40% of Calradia, and its culture and religion were dominant in many regions. Discrimination was rampant here, and being an outsider could easily land me in trouble. That's why, after entering this world, I adopted the name Augustus—after the first emperor of Rome. The name, along with my looks, allowed me to avoid suspicion.

We filled the buckets and returned to the group. Manes remained quiet, and I respected his silence. He was a man with his burdens, and in this world, survival often meant keeping those burdens to yourself. After we returned, we shared a simple meal—bread, some dried meat, and water from the river. The sun was beginning its descent, casting long shadows over the landscape as we prepared to resume our journey toward Zeonica.

As the city came into view in the distance, I felt a sense of relief. The journey had been peaceful so far, but something gnawed at me—a nagging feeling that the peace wouldn’t last. My instincts proved correct. Just as the sun began to dip below the horizon, a group of looters appeared from the bushes, their ragged clothes and wild expressions betraying their desperate intent. There were about eight of them, armed with crude weapons—clubs, axes, and stones.

Panic surged through me. My heart raced as I instinctively reached for my sword. This was it—the first real test of my ability to survive in this world. I had faced countless enemies in the game before, but this was different. These men weren’t just pixels on a screen. They were real, and the consequences of failure were real too.

Manes barked out orders, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Form a straight line! We outnumber them—charge them head-on!”

The others, more seasoned than me, fell into formation. I followed suit, my mind racing with fear and adrenaline. As we moved forward, the looters hurled stones at us. One flew past my head, narrowly missing. Another hit the ground by my feet, kicking up dust. For a brief second, I froze, overwhelmed by the reality of the situation. But then Manes' shout snapped me out of it.

“Focus! Keep moving!” he yelled, his sword raised as he led the charge.

I swallowed hard, gripping the hilt of my sword tighter. We closed the distance quickly, and before I knew it, I was face-to-face with one of the looters. He was a burly man, wielding a crude wooden club. His eyes were wild, full of desperation. He swung at me, a wide, reckless arc aimed at my head. I raised my sword just in time to block the blow, the impact jarring my arms.

Time seemed to slow as I blocked his strike and instinctively stepped forward, driving my sword toward his neck. The blade pierced his flesh with a sickening ease, and blood sprayed out, staining my tunic red. He gurgled, collapsing to the ground as I pulled my sword free. I stood there, frozen for a moment, staring at the body at my feet.

The reality of what I had just done hit me like a hammer. I had killed a man. Not a bandit in a game, not a faceless NPC, but a living, breathing person. My hands trembled, and for a second, the world around me blurred. This was real. I wasn’t in a game anymore.

But there was no time to dwell on it. The battle raged on around me, and I could hear the clashing of weapons, the grunts of effort, and the cries of pain. Manes had already dispatched two of the looters, and the rest of the caravan guards were handling the others. The skirmish ended almost as quickly as it had begun. The looters, disorganized and ill-equipped, were no match for us.

When it was over, we stood amidst the bodies, panting and bloodied, but alive. The adrenaline began to wear off, and exhaustion set in. Manes walked over to me, his face grim. “You did well,” he said simply, clapping a hand on my shoulder.

I nodded, though I didn’t feel like I had done well. The weight of the kill still sat heavily on my conscience. But in this world, survival came at a cost, and I had just paid my first toll.