The Borderlands didn't so much begin as ambush you. One minute, you walked through open meadows dotted with wildflowers, and the next the grass gave way to a tangled mess of thorny brambles, gnarled trees, and stones covered in moss and the kind of mushrooms that looked either magical or deeply poisonous. According to the map, this place was "No Man's Land" a buffer between the last struggling farms of the human realm and whatever came next. If you weren't careful, you could cross from human territory to goblin lair with just a badly-placed nap.
I checked my stats again as I picked my way through the brush:
Name: Arielle
Level: 4
EXP: 195 / 200
HP: 47 / 55
MP: 38 / 41
Strength: 16
Agility: 13
Intelligence: 8
Willpower: 16
Charisma: 4
Magic Affinity: Fire – Level 3
Techniques: Fireball, Flame Dart, Ember Dance, Shape Fire, Fire Shield, Fire Lash
Status: Ready to punch a rabbit for 5 EXP
The air was sharp with the scent of pine and cold earth. Every birdcall set my nerves on edge. But I kept moving ducking beneath low branches, circling any system-marked monster dots that pulsed too red for comfort. The system map was my lifeline: it blinked out monster nests, patrol routes, even a few "?" markers that usually meant "something weird maybe loot, maybe death, maybe both."
My boots formerly Father's were holding up, but barely. I'd been fantasizing about new shoes since the first time I stepped in a puddle and felt my sock turn into soup.
"Alright, System," I said, pausing behind a fallen log. "I need gear. Something tougher than these 'discount tragedy' boots."
[Opening System Shop…]
A glowing window unfolded.
Boots:
F-Grade Leather Boots: 20 gold ("Better than barefoot. Barely.")
E-Grade Reinforced Boots: 45 gold ("Now with actual soles.")
D-Grade Speed Boots: 100 gold ("Run like your debts are chasing you.")
C-Grade Silent Stalkers: 220 gold ("Step like a shadow. Trip like a professional.")
I bought the E-Grade Reinforced Boots—they came with a tiny enchantment and the promise of dry feet. As for the rest of my gear, I scrolled, unable to resist a peek at the truly crucial section:
Epic Underwear (SS-Grade):
"Never tears, never stains, always fits. 1,000 gold. Warning: Does not grant charisma."
I considered it for a ridiculous second. "Tempting, but no. If I die, at least I'll haunt someone in dry socks."
[Transaction complete. E-Grade Reinforced Boots equipped. You are now 17% less tragic.]
I tossed my old boots into a bush for some future archaeologist to puzzle over and tried on the new pair. Heaven. My toes almost cried.
The path was little more than a rumor by midday. I foraged for berries and shot a quick rabbit for lunch, careful not to draw attention. No sense in alerting anything bigger out here, there was always something bigger.
Halfway through my meal, I heard a strange voice. "Psst. Hey, you. Yes, you, with the tragic lunch."
I whipped around. No one.
"Down here, genius."
I looked down to find a squirrel sitting on its haunches, a ragged pirate hat perched on its head. It grinned with all the charm of a used cart salesman.
"You look lost," it said, waving a rolled-up scrap of parchment. "Lucky for you, I've got just the thing! Limited edition, one-of-a-kind treasure map. Only five gold. Accept no imitations—except this one."
My jaw dropped. "You're… a talking squirrel."
"Don't judge," it said, stuffing a peanut into its cheek. "Business is hard out here. Want the map or not? It leads to guaranteed treasure maybe even Epic Underwear, if that's your thing."
The system chimed:
[Warning: Talking Squirrel, suspected con artist. Threat Level: Harmless. XP: 0. Advice: Only purchase if desperate for comedy or conversation.]
"Sorry," I said, holding in a laugh. "Not today, Captain Fluff. Maybe sell that map to a rabbit."
The squirrel shrugged. "Their credit's no good. Suit yourself, tragic lunch lady. But if you get eaten by goblins, don't blame me!" It scampered off, hat askew, dignity fully intact.
I pressed deeper into the woods, boots springy, mood lighter. That was when I heard the unmistakable sound of people voices raised, laughter too loud for any sane wilderness traveler.
I slowed, peering through the brush.
A camp sprawled in a clearing: a mismatched band of adventurers lounging around a fire, their armor gleaming (where it wasn't dented), swords and spears propped up nearby. I counted four of them one mountain of a man with a battleaxe, a lanky archer, a woman in mage's robes covered in tea stains, and a rogue whose best camouflage was not bathing.
"Did you see that goblin run?" the big one was boasting. "Screamed like a princess at a slug festival!"
The archer snorted. "Better than that last 'bait' we used. Poor girl never saw the ogre coming."
I tensed, drawing my hood lower, keeping to the shadows. I'd heard stories adventurers were just as likely to rob you as rescue you, and if they thought you were weak…well, "monster bait" sounded like a demotion.
Too late. The rogue spotted me. "Oi! Who's there? Show yourself!"
I hesitated, then stepped out, shoulders hunched, face shadowed. "Just passing through," I muttered, feigning a limp.
The mage eyed me. "Alone, are you? Dangerous out here. Want to join our party for a bit? We could use someone…expendable."
The big man grinned. "You look like you'd draw monster attention. Could be useful. What's your name, girl?"
"Useless," I said. "Family tradition."
They laughed, thinking I was joking. "Perfect," the archer grinned. "We'll watch your back. From a distance."
I put on my best "helpless" face. "Thanks, but I really don't want to slow you down. I'm not even good at running away."
They exchanged looks, eyes glinting. The rogue circled behind me. "How about you give us your coin and we'll let you go? Otherwise, you can be bait for our next raid."
I sighed, dropping the act. "You know, I was trying to be polite."
With a flick of my wrist, I summoned a swirling ring of fire. The clearing lit up in red and gold, heat washing over their stunned faces. "If anyone takes one step closer, I'll roast your eyebrows and leave you for the goblins."
The mage squeaked, backpedaling. The big man's jaw dropped.
"On second thought," the archer stammered, "maybe you're not as useless as you look."
"Good instincts," I said, dismissing the flames. "Have a nice day. And if you see a squirrel in a pirate hat, tell him he owes me five gold."
They scrambled to clear out, muttering about "crazy witches" and "lunatics in cloaks." I grinned, pocketing my pride.
I traveled on until dusk, letting the quiet settle in. The Borderlands were alive now: distant monster howls, glowing fireflies, the constant sense that everything was hungry, waiting, alive.
Then, a rustle a real one. My map pulsed. A horned rabbit, big as a dog, hopped out, red eyes glinting. It hissed. I hissed back.
"Sorry, friend. I need five EXP."
It lunged. I dodged, sending a Flame Dart right between its eyes. It collapsed, still twitching. I checked the system:
[Horned Rabbit defeated! +8 EXP. Level Up!]
The world seemed to shimmer. A rush of power filled my veins, brighter and sharper than before. A gold window flashed:
LEVEL UP!
Congratulations, Host: Level 5 reached!
Stat Points: +3
Skill Points: +1
New Perk: Choose one 'Fire Mastery I' or 'Quick Learner'
Shop Discount unlocked: 5% off all socks and boots.
I whooped, scaring a murder of crows out of a tree.
"Take that, world! Arielle's moving up!"
The system chimed, smug and proud.
[Not bad for a tragic lunch lady. Now let's see what you can really do, Host. The Borderlands don't forgive weakness, but they might just respect a little fire.]
I built my camp, tucked my new boots under my head, and slept with a smile, dreaming of squirrels, socks, and the road to power.