Gatebreaker

Grimm sized Jonas up with a smirk, her tusks gleaming as she leaned against a nearby tree, arms still crossed. She was massive, even by orc standards, standing at least a foot taller than Jonas, with muscles that rippled beneath her leather armor. Her emerald skin seemed to glow faintly in the dim light, but it was her eyes—sharp and predatory—that unsettled him the most.

"Still breathing? That’s a good sign," she said, her voice dripping with amusement.

Jonas straightened up, still gripping the sword tightly. "What the hell is going on? Where am I?"

Grimm's smirk widened. "Ilvorya. Not exactly the softest landing for a newbie, but you’ve survived your first Riftbeast, so that’s something. Most don’t get that far."

"Riftbeast?" Jonas repeated, glancing down at the bloodied creature he’d just killed. He realized how little he knew of this world, how dangerous it was. "What was that thing?"

Grimm shrugged, stepping forward and nudging the dead creature with her boot. "Nasty piece of work, that’s what. The rifts spit them out all over Ilvorya. They hunt, they kill, and if you’re unlucky, they make you one of them. You don’t want that."

Jonas felt a chill run down his spine. The whole situation was surreal—monsters, rifts, a world that ran on stats and levels. And now this giant orc woman, speaking so casually about things he couldn’t begin to understand. But he had no choice but to roll with it. His mind was already racing with questions, but he focused on the most immediate one.

"Why am I here?" Jonas asked, his voice steadier than he felt. "How did I get to this... Ilvorya?"

Grimm shrugged again. "That’s the big mystery, isn’t it? Rifts have been opening up across worlds for years, pulling unlucky souls from wherever they come from and dumping them here. Earth, huh? I can smell it on you."

Jonas blinked. "You’ve heard of Earth?"

"Seen a few of your kind come through. Most didn’t last long," she said, the smirk fading for a moment. "But you? You’ve got potential. I could see it the moment you swung that sword."

Jonas let out a shaky breath, glancing at the sword in his hand. He hadn’t thought about the fight—his body had just moved on instinct. But now that the adrenaline was fading, he realized how close he’d come to dying.

"What happens now?" he asked, meeting Grimm’s gaze. He still didn’t trust her, but she seemed to know more than anyone—or anything—else he’d encountered so far.

Grimm stepped closer, her towering presence almost overwhelming. "What happens now is up to you. I don’t usually take on strays, but you’ve got fire in you. You want to survive here? You’ll need to level up, get stronger, and stop looking so damn confused all the time."

Jonas opened his mouth to protest, but Grimm cut him off with a wave of her hand.

"Look, this world doesn’t give a damn about your past. You’ve got a clean slate here, but that also means you’re starting from zero. You don’t get to sit around and wait for someone to save you." She paused, eyeing him carefully. "So, you’ve got two options. One, you can head off on your own and probably get eaten by the next Riftbeast that crosses your path."

Jonas raised an eyebrow. "And option two?"

Grimm grinned, showing off her sharp tusks. "You stick with me. I’ll train you, teach you how to survive, and maybe—just maybe—you won’t get yourself killed."

Jonas hesitated. This woman was intense, to say the least, and there was something dangerous about her. But then again, the alternative was venturing into an unknown world alone with no skills, no knowledge, and no allies.

He gripped the sword tighter, feeling its weight in his hand. As much as he hated to admit it, he had no idea how to survive in this world, and Grimm seemed like the best shot he had at staying alive—at least until he understood more about what was going on.

Jonas sighed and nodded. "Alright, I’m in. I’ll stick with you."

Grimm’s grin widened, her eyes gleaming with approval. "Good choice, kid. You’ve got guts. But before we go anywhere, you need to learn how to actually use that sword. No point walking around if you’re swinging it like a stick."

Jonas frowned. "I just killed that thing, didn’t I?"

"You got lucky." Grimm stepped forward, reaching out to yank the sword from his hand. She spun it effortlessly in her grasp, as if it weighed nothing, and gestured for him to watch. "Killing one Riftbeast doesn’t make you a warrior. Look."

She took a stance, her feet planted firmly on the ground. With a swift, fluid motion, she brought the blade down in a controlled arc, the movement precise and powerful. It was nothing like the wild, panicked slashing Jonas had done. Grimm’s strength was obvious, but her control was what truly stood out.

"That’s how you strike. Clean. Efficient." She tossed the sword back to him. "Try it."

Jonas awkwardly caught the sword and did his best to imitate her stance. His muscles were sore, and his movements felt stiff, but he brought the sword down in what he hoped was a similar arc. The blade wobbled, the strike lacking the crisp control that Grimm had demonstrated.

She raised an eyebrow. "That was... not terrible."

Jonas smirked, rolling his shoulders. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

Grimm chuckled. "Don’t get cocky. We’ve got work to do."

For the next hour, she drilled him on basic sword techniques—stances, strikes, footwork. It wasn’t easy. Jonas quickly realized that swinging a sword was far more exhausting than he had anticipated. His arms ached, his legs felt like they were made of lead, and sweat poured down his face. But through it all, Grimm pushed him, her sharp eyes catching every mistake, correcting his posture, adjusting his grip.

"Balance your weight, kid," she barked. "You’re too heavy on your heels. You fall back like that in a real fight, and you’re dead."

Jonas grunted, shifting his weight forward, trying to stay light on his feet as she instructed. His chest heaved with each breath, his muscles screaming for a break, but he kept going. He had to. If this was his new reality, he had no choice but to adapt.

After what felt like an eternity, Grimm finally called for a break. Jonas collapsed against a nearby tree, panting heavily, his sword resting beside him.

"You’re not completely hopeless," Grimm said, crossing her arms again, though her tone carried a note of approval. "That’s more than I can say for most."

Jonas wiped the sweat from his brow, his body still trembling from the effort. "Thanks, I guess."

"You’ll need to get stronger. Faster." Grimm tossed him a canteen of water, which he gratefully accepted. "There’s more to this world than just swinging a sword. You’re gonna have to learn about the system."

Jonas paused mid-sip. "The system?"

Grimm nodded. "Ilvorya runs on rules—stats, skills, levels. Everything’s quantified, just like in a game. You’re not just some guy swinging a sword—you’re a warrior, with attributes to match." She tapped her temple. "You’ve already seen it, right? The notifications? Your level, your XP?"

Jonas thought back to the strange voice in his head, the one that had announced his class and experience points. "Yeah... I’ve seen them. But I don’t really get how it all works."

"That’s what I’m here for." Grimm walked over and crouched beside him. "Let’s start simple. You’ve got six core stats—Strength, Dexterity, Intelligence, Endurance, Charisma, and Luck. Each one affects what you can do, how fast you can learn, how hard you can hit. As you level up, you’ll earn points to distribute across them. Every choice you make shapes what kind of fighter you’ll become."

Jonas’s mind whirled. It was like a game, but real. "So, what should I focus on?"

Grimm rubbed her chin, studying him for a moment. "That depends on how you want to fight. You’re a Novice Warrior, which means you’re best suited for melee combat. Right now, I’d say dump your points into Strength and Endurance. You need to hit harder, last longer in a fight. Later, you can work on the finesse stuff."

Jonas nodded, trying to absorb the information. It made sense, in a strange, overwhelming way. "How do I level up, exactly? Just by fighting things?"

"Fighting, completing quests, making decisions that matter. It’s not all about combat." Grimm stood up, stretching her arms above her head. "Speaking of which, we’ve got a job to do. You’ve had your warm-up, now it’s time to see if you can handle yourself in the field."

Jonas’s heart sank. "Already? I thought we were still training."

Grimm grinned, her tusks gleaming. "Training never stops, kid. Come on, there’s a village nearby with a Riftspawn problem. We’ll take care of it, earn some XP, and maybe find you some better gear. You can’t go around looking like a lost farmhand forever."

Jonas stood, grabbing his sword. His body was tired, and every muscle ached, but he wasn’t about to back down now. He had to get stronger, had to learn how to survive in this strange new world. And maybe, just maybe, find a way back home.

The sun had dipped lower by the time they reached the village. It wasn’t much—just a few wooden huts clustered together, smoke curling lazily from chimneys. Fields stretched out in the distance, but even from a distance, Jonas could see the damage. Several of the huts had been smashed, their walls torn apart as if by wild animals. And there, looming over the village, was the unmistakable dark shimmer of a rift.

Grimm pointed. "There’s your problem. Rift’s opened up just outside the village, and the beasts have been attacking every night. Our job is to close it and clean up whatever’s come through."

Jonas stared at the rift, a jagged tear in reality that hovered in the air, its edges pulsing with dark energy. It looked like something out of a nightmare, and the mere sight of it made his skin crawl.

"How do we close it?" he asked, his voice quiet.

Grimm glanced at him. "You’ll learn. For now, focus on the fight. The beasts’ll come as soon as they smell us."

Jonas swallowed hard, gripping his sword tightly. He wasn’t ready for this—not really. But there was no turning back now.

As they stepped into the village, a deep, guttural growl echoed from the shadows. Jonas’s heart skipped a beat. He looked up, and from the edge of the rift, he saw them—more Riftbeasts. Dozens of them. Their eyes glowed in the fading light, and their claws scraped the ground as they advanced, hunger in their gaze.

Grimm unsheathed her massive axe, her grin wild with anticipation. "Time for round two, kid."

Jonas took a deep breath, raising his sword. His first real battle was about to begin.