Chapter One: The Cellar and Village

Within a dark cellar, a young teen squatted as he stared up at the stairs leading to the exit of the dark and dingy room. He yawned, having not slept since he'd woken up within the room, mainly due to the screams of agony echoing out from above. There was some sort of raid going on, shouts and screams of 'Monsters' piercing through the thick iron reinforced oak cellar door. That and the pounding, then the agonizing choking screams of someone almost certainly dying.

The young man clenched his staff as he heard the oak door jostle. The door jerked several times.

Corvac held his breath, body and mind entirely devoted towards not making the slightest bit of sound. The door was sealed by a thick bar paired with a length of chain and rope he'd long since threaded through the handles. He'd anchored those ropes and chains to a few chairs and barrels he'd wedged together to keep the door hopefully shut tight.

Eventually, what felt like hours but was likely only a few minutes, the jerking stopped and he was left to relax a bit. He rubbed his head as he tried to think how any of this was possible. He'd long since dissuaded himself of any delusions of this being some elaborate lucid dream, never before had he felt this alert and in control of himself, something that likely had to do with him inhabiting a body that was far superior to the one he called his own.

There weren't many pieces of reflective material within the cellar save for a slightly tarnished silver mirror, but some water within a cast iron pot, fire light from his seemingly magic lamp powered by a strange purple rock, and some rubbing around of unfamiliar skin had long since convinced him that he wasn't rocking his old body. He was younger for sure, although he did wonder what a teenager somewhere around the age range of fifteen to seventeen was doing with full body tattoos. Said tattoos he couldn't get that good of an image of, the dim firelight of his lamp only illuminating so much and the chill of the cellar dissuaded him from stripping down to inspect himself further.

Ultimately, his situation was rather grim. He was in a new body, he was in an unfamiliar location, and he was in danger. His current options for survival consisted of exiting the relative safety of the cellar and fleeing for safety. Hoping and praying the house it belonged to didn't catch on fire and choke him out or for any possible bandits to do the same with the entrance. Following the first line of thought, he could exit and hope to possibly sneak or fight his way out of this mess, which he rather liked his odds of in the former method of escape. He could try to find help, maybe find some survivors and organize resistance?

'No, that sounds dumb and far too altruistic.' The young man scoffed softly, before wincing as he went rigid and hoped his small bit of noise hadn't alerted anything. He let out a shaky breath a few minutes later, before slowly sneaking his way over to the store room area of the cellar and finding a large store of hard-bread, cheese, several kegs of what he assumed to be beer from the grainy smell coming from them, and a selection of salted and stored meats. From their texture and color they were red meats, so likely something either hunted, or raised like a cow.

He was good on food for what looked to be a few weeks, maybe a month or two? Honestly he'd just eat to keep up his strength for a possible fight, no point starving himself by rationing and not having the ability to swing his staff hard enough to crack something's skull open. Other than that, he also had a bucket for his waste which was covered with a hemp sheet when he wasn't using it, then for possible methods of entertainment he had two books that didn't have any titles, but looked like long reads with how massive they were. True tomes that looked like they belonged in a wizard's library.

Corvac initially wanted to give whatever this raid was a day, maybe two days before he headed out late at night. Hopefully during the late night of three am, although he hadn't any means of measuring time down here so he'd likely just be going whenever it was dark. Staying within the cellar for eternity wasn't an option, and the longer he stayed the longer it was possible for him to be discovered during whatever looting efforts would be played out. The jostling altered him that whoever was raiding was at least aware of his cellar's location, and if he was a bandit he'd certainly want to bust open a cellar for whatever foodstuff, alcohol, hidden riches, or other material goods that a village could be preserving or hiding.

That meant he needed to leave, and soon, lest he get captured by the raiders. It was a gamble surely, but he didn't really have any other choice except leaving and fleeing into the night or praying to god that his cellar didn't get raided.

'Alright, let's see what I'm working with.' Corvac thought.

He rummaged through the stores of the cellar, and soon obtained what he declared as his 'kit'. He was honestly rather surprised by what he'd found within the cellar, such was the quality of what he'd found, and one wouldn't find him complaining.

He gave himself a rundown of what he was carrying.

First would be his staff. The long length of wood stood a few inches taller than he was, and this body was already rather tall even in its teen years. He was six foot three in his former life, and he didn't exactly feel that much shorter although he'd need to measure. The length of wood was engraved with dozens of somewhat evil looking runes. Its length was entirely black, the wood either being naturally dark or it having gone through a charring. The wood was smooth, likely coated with some sort of resin. The runes themselves were painted in with a strange golden paint that glistened within the soft light of his lamp. It was a sturdy and rather heavy staff, also his main go-to weapon that'd crush a skull if he swung it correctly.

Besides the staff, he also wore a kit of what could only be described as advanced Adventurer Gear. If he could describe it, it'd be what he'd think an adventuring wizard would wear. He had his stereotypical robe, the lining was a bloody crimson, of which had several embroidered white runes of the same script on his staff. The robe was a glossy black, showing that it was a high quality cloth. The inside of the robe was a thick and smooth leather padding with painted black glyphs looking like complex ritual circles and arcane runes. The robe came with a crimson stole that had an integrated loose clasp to make sure it didn't get lost during movement.

Beyond the epic robe, he had an assembly of light armor and clothing. Thick and heavy duty leather jerkins, a belt that had an assembly of straps that were designed to carry and secure a book, of which he buckled up one of the random two books he'd found. For his chest he had a tough black studded brigandine that was placed over a light tunic and belted tight. A pair of black leather boots of significant quality completed his assembly of armor and clothing.

He'd also found a vest of chainmail, but he'd placed that into what could only be described as a bag of holding. He had two of them, having found them stuffed away in a corner. One was a satchel pack that he affixed to his right hip, its sash crossed over his chest and resting on his left shoulder. The other was a thick adventurers backpack, one that came with integrated vial holders. These vial holders were sadly empty, but with all this equipment, Corvac was coming to the sudden and rather deranged conclusion of him being…transmigrated into fantasy land.

Call him insane, call him crazy; hell he was calling himself insane for even entertaining the thought; but this cosplayer gear was a bit too accurate, a bit too functional and quality for it to not be anything else. The fact that he could fit an entire barrel of beer into his backpack almost sold him on that fact, but he concluded he needed more information before concluding he was isekai'd, and hadn't just stumbled upon the fact that magic was real all along.

'God, I feel like such a fucking loser for even considering I've been isekai'd.' Corvac thought with a pinched face, cringing at the mere thought.

He'd peaked into both of the books he'd found. One was written in a language he'd never seen, a language that looked startlingly similar to English, but also one that he understood completely. He hadn't read much else other than a few notes about 'centering oneself and preparing for the magic of the Grimoire to be activated', before closing it and focusing on his survival needs, but it was certainly a hint towards where he was. The other book was a direct copy, and it went into his subspace satchel bag until he was somewhere safe and could inspect a theoretical magic guide.

Beyond his bags, he'd found one, possibly three, other items that were potentially magical in nature.

One was a metal flask with ornate designs and patterns on its faces, one that he'd filled up for a solid fifteen minutes, draining an entire barrel of water before realizing the bottle was a subspace as well; just for liquids. That one was obviously magic. The other item was a pair of earrings that instantly adhered to his ears. They were fancy pink crystals tied to silver 'tabs', but had no needle for them to hang from the ears. Apparently they were magical in that they adhered to the skin, although he wasn't sure if they had any other effects.

The last magical item he'd found was a ring of black metal with a shining topaz in the center. It didn't do anything and he wasn't sure if it did anything, but it looked nice and he wasn't not going to take a potentially magical item in this cellar full of mysteries.

Beyond all of that, he'd loaded up on water using his flask, tossed several barrels of beer, mead, or other alcoholic products into his backpack, and eventually found a loose board in the back that he carefully pried out to find a small treasure chest.

The chest was filled to the brim of gold coins, the chest was about the shape of a shoebox, but likely a bit larger. It was placed into his satchel.

With all of that, he loaded up on cheese, bread, and meat, before he peered through the cellar door's seam, waiting for the bit of light to dim.

The minutes went by slowly, and slowly the night fell upon the land. Corvac strained his hearing, trying to sense for any form of movement near his door's entrance.

'Alright, let's do it. Come on. Let's go. Now or never.' Corvac psyched himself up, before springing up and he quickly started to work on the chains and ropes that secured the handles of the door. His hands worked methodically, undoing the restraints as for the last few hours he studied how he tied and worked the lengths of chain and rope and how he'd unravel them. The work went quickly, if not quietly as the chain jingled rapidly. Soon he'd freed the lengths of rope and then he lifted the bar of the door. He set it down gently, resting it against the wall and stairs, before he breathed deeply and cracked the door open.

His eye snapped rapidly through the dim light of a half moon's night. He spied nothing but tall grass and a thick forest leading into the mysterious night. He pushed the door open and stepped out into the night, eyes suspicious and booted feet soft. His toes bounced, in the foliage of a backyard, his eyes quickly inspected the large townhome he'd been squatting under, before he started to move.

He rounded the house and was met with a village. It was a large village and he was at what he assumed to be the central and largest house within it. The chiefs or whatever leading or wealthy figure owned the largest home. His eyes spotted decaying forms of dead bodies, the darkness taking away their figures, but he easily spotted the short arrows sticking out of their corpses.

He didn't react much to the corpses, and just moved forward. Now more curious than fearful. He strode near a corpse and inspected them. A village girl, rather soft on the eyes if not for her terrified face, the scent of death, rot, and voided bowls. Flys ate at her wide eyes while her figure was frozen in the stature that rigor mortis brought to the still dead.

Her head was leaking long since congealed blood, and a glance to the dirt road she was running along spoke of what killed her. A stone, likely thrown or slung by a sling.

'Bows, slings…' He narrowed his eyes at a corpse that had arrows stick through it, but they were too short to be arrows. He neared it and inspected it, gripping the shaft and tugging it free of dead flesh. He inspected it, finding that it was crude, primitive, and short. Yet, it was fletched like one would an arrow, not a bolt for a crossbow.

'Crude…small.' His eyes found a smaller corpse that he'd initially thought to be a child's. He moved through the shadows, before finding what he'd started to suspect.

"Goblins." He muttered in the night. The winds brushing through the empty town swallowing his words. The corpse was a green child-like figure, naked as the day it was born but it had no genitals. It was a Ken Doll through and through, although it held all the recognizable features of a goblin save for the nastiest part of it usually being a rape beast. Instead they were just marauders and murderers, Monsters.

'Likely came in with force of numbers and surprise, overwhelmed the town's sparse militia. Ambush tactics, primitive, but clever are goblins of such worlds. So a form of blitzkrieg, rush the town in numbers and ranged attacks, storm through and don't allow anyone to form any organized resistance. A singular goblin isn't an issue for most men, let alone those used to medieval life. A hoe would be enough to end a goblin's life, let alone anyone with a hunter's experience.' Corvac sighed, "Several dozen, if not a hundred or two is another story." He muttered to the dark winds.

He felt somewhat safer, even as he made this conclusion.

He might be alone and lost within a likely remote village that'd just gotten wiped out by a race of murder hungry monsters experienced in guerrilla warfare, but in a way that was better than hostile humanity. From the biology of these monsters and the state of the dead, these were simple killers, not sadistic monsters that humans could become. His darkest demons back in the cellar were whispering to him that he'd be soon enslaved, mind controlled by a mage, or gang-pressed into banditry. That, or cruel and unusual torture.

Now all he needed to worry about was getting his throat slit at night by a bunch of green children. That, or filled with arrows and bashed to death with rocks.

Corvac grimaced, "Need to find people. Strength in numbers." He muttered. Corvac looked away from the alien and mythical corpse, before glancing to the shining stars of the night. He grunted and started to loot.

He needed to find traveling gear, and while he had much with him in terms of food, he'd like a bedroll, things to start a fire with, maybe even a tent or tarp for rains. Corvac raided many houses, finding stored food supplies, more gold coins, and many a grim corpse. No survivors as far as he could tell, either they fled, or the goblins were rather thorough. He also located hemp mats, various feather pillows, and primitive camping equipment.

Collecting a collection of kindling and firewood from the houses, Corvac decided that the danger had largely left. He was safe in this town, at least for now. Currently, he needs to catch up on sleep.

He returned to his cellar, cleared out his waste bucket, barred the door, before making a pallet. He then slowly drifted off to sleep, dreams filled with feats of magic and bloody combat.