#nerium deadzone

You take it back. You can't deal with this world.

Well — you can. But mentally? You absolutely cannot.

Three nights have passed, wandering Sumeru's wilderness.

Honestly? You had a ton of worries at first.

Would the ground be too cold? Would you have to sleep in one of the giant trees? Would something sneak up and kill you before you could wake up with a scream? The usual, ya'know.

But it went.. alright?

You'd initially been following the shoreline of the water surrounding the nuclear onion — whatever that was, the Aranara Bulb; you can't remember what it was actually called for the life of you — until you found a small, secluded river; see-through and shallow. Safe and quiet. Apart from the rude and annoying bugs.

But it was perfect to wash off the itchy mud that coated your skin and clothes. Your poor, dried and crusty socks. You were really thankful for Sumeru's warm climate as you waited for your clothes to dry.

In the water's reflection, you finally got a clean look at the cold, map-inducing thing clinging to the side of your head like an unforgiving leech getting its revenge.

It was a silvery, thin metal plate, shaped like a long sideways teardrop that curved neatly along your temple. You couldn't tell if it was meant to look like a leaf? A minimalisitc feather? Maybe something else??

But hehehe, a new discovery, a reallll kicker: it was somehow attached to your skull. Supposedly.

Not a clip or anything. You tried pulling it off. Nothing. Couldn't even get a fingernail under it. Just a dull headache and irritated skin. The idea of it is utterly nauseating—

You clenched your hands together, forcing yourself not to pick at it. Ripping out a chunk of your own head probably wasn't the winning move.

So you distract yourself. Anything to stop thinking about the plate of metal, that’s fucking embedded in your goddamn skull, warmed by your own flesh.

You inhale.

Exhale.

Your eyes.

They were different now. They used to be a grey that bordered blue and green depending on the lighting. But now they were paler, swirling with colours — blues, greens, creams, pinks, indigos — like oil on water, or maybe more like an iridescent pearl.

It just— technically, it wasn't a huge change. But it felt.. hard to look at too closely. Or to look at all now that you noticed.

You used to have your mom's eyes. The ones you always noted when looking in a mirror. But now they were gone.

You leaned closer to your reflection — everything else still looked the same. The familiar blend of your parents' features. A small relief.

You let out a breath, watching it ripple a looser version of your dad's damp black curls, now puffing and drying around your jawline.

Your gaze kept drifting back to those eyes, but you tore it away, focusing instead on a small fish darting by the water's greens.

--☆--

Since that first night, things settled into a routine. As routine as they could be, at least.

You gathered dry, dead wood and sticks — which wasn't easy since most of everything here seemed alive — and lit a fire with a Flaming Flower Stem you'd stumbled across earlier (you poured water on it to pick it). Cracking it open — smashing it with a stick — on a pile of brittle leaves and twigs, it sparked a flame.

Thank god it worked. Because no matter how many rocks you struck together, you couldn't find any flint.

You laid next to the fire, careful to keep a safe distance so you wouldn't set yourself on fire in your sleep. If sleep finds you, that is. Cause you're feeling pretty dang awake. You circled the flames with stone, just in case. The ground had retained warmth from the day's sun, making it easier to stay comfortable on the lush grass.

The entire environment could be somewhat summed up as warm and humid, while being a bit cooler under a canopy of leaves. Not unbearable, but enough that you rolled up your sleeves and tied your outer layer around your waist.

Sometimes the midday heat got to you though, so you took breaks under the shade of trees or by a body of water. Sometimes taking the time to take a few sips or to dip in your warm and tired toes.

Food was surprisingly manageable. You foraged greens, picked fruit, even once collected some dislodged and abandoned eggs. The wilds here were far more fruitful compared to the small, urban-surrounded forests you walked as a child. Sometimes, you scavenged from adventurers' camps or hilichurl cooking spots, cleaning their pots and bowls as best you could before using them.

You learned to wrap your finds in leaves — mainly as makeshift containers — for storage: eggs, greens, a slab of mystery meat (pork?) you’re kind of scared to touch, mints, sweet flowers, anything remotely edible. But no matter how long you stuffed things into your pouch, they always came out just as fresh as when you put them in. You’d noticed it before, but now you were sure — especially after keeping tabs on a fried egg that was still steaming after two days.

Your pouch had some kind of passive stasis. Or maybe… a preservation enchant? You weren't sure the specifics. A blessing, yeah — no spoiled food and cool waterskin (from a camp) — but also mindboggling.

Like, you can't stress enough how mesmerizing it is, being able to carry everything on your person so effortlessly. You'd arrived with only the clothes on your back, and now you had this strange storage-inventory thing, which you've stashed enough forest produce to stock a vendor stall. It was comforting — but yeah, you were absolutely developing a hoarding problem.

You do not need that many mushrooms.

But those camps reminded you of something — you hadn't seen or approached any actual civilization yet. It made you question what exactly do you want from this world?

Well, you don't want to die. That's one thing.

But you also don't want to be stuck just surviving, either. You want to live.

Despite your easy-going life in the wilderness at the moment, it wasn't sustainable. You were always tense, sleeping lightly with one eye open at the unfamiliar surroundings and of the possible dangers of a stray tiger or roaming machinery. It was exhausting and mentally taxing to never truly relax and with no one to watch your back.

You didn’t even have anything sharp to defend yourself — just your fists, which, while handy (heh), weren't exactly ideal. Your other option was simply to run.

And if you needed to run, you wanted a head start.

You could travel to the other nations — Mondstadt, Liyue, Fontaine, Snezhna- mm no not that one — but there was no rush. Especially since you can confidently say that you're underprepared. You wanted to figure out where in the timeline you even were, if the story had started at all, or had already ended.

You didn't even know what to do with your knowledge of this world yet. But right now, you needed to put yourself first, and prioritize your own safety and stability.

You're already in Sumeru — so why trek all the way to Fontaine just to see civilization?

Besides... you kind of wanted something familiar.

You— are? no— were a university student, before you got dumped into the funky Dendro well.

So, you're leaning to prefer an academic environment as you kind of acclimate to this world.

And maybe, if you got accepted to the Akademiya, you could drown yourself in studies — like you usually did — and forget how far from home you really were.

Like how you’d wish there was something to take your mind off the flute from…

Your hand lifted, fingers brushing the cold metal plate at your temple.

The map figured open. You squinted at the glowing, menacing notification bar along the top left:

[♪Now Playing♪ : Jungle Wanderers]

From that.

You close the screen.

Anyway, there's no promise that you'd even be accepted to the school. You are a suspicious foreigner with no connections, no background, no credentials.

And even if you did get accepted, you'd also need a place to live. Some sort of job or way to get the finances needed to live in society. And if the Akademiya worked like school did back home, you'd have tuition to worry about too.

The more you thought about it, the more stressed you got. The bones in your hands starting to feel weak.

You didn’t know this world's customs, laws, morals, or common sense.

It was supposed to be a game. No one pays attention to that kind of stuff when they are trying to have fun-

You wanted to find civilization — but also, really didn't.

Sure, it'd be safer (kinda, not so sure with the Sumeru Arc). But what if there's a language barrier? What if gestures and body language meant different things here, and you accidentally tell someone to break their back and eat soap with ranch?

Still. At least with civilization, there would be sustainable trade, money, and food. A better shot of not dying to the wilderness and possibly living comfortably.

But you don't even belong here.

What if someone asked where you were from? What the hell are you supposed to say? Natlan?? Could you pull off being a traveller? But you don't even have a weapon—

You exhaled shakily.

The thought of walking into a city made your stomach twist. You lowered your eyes, watching your shadow stretch long over the dirt road from the morning sun.

And then—

A merchant caravan.

You stop mid-step, eyes locking onto the real people in front of you.

Their greying hair, worn-in hairstyles, sun-darkened skin, scars and blemishes. The distinctly Sumeru styled clothing — light fabric, layered against the sun, dyed in earth tones, dusted with kicked up terrain.

You found yourself blatantly staring at the Sumpter Beast hauling their belongings.

It's massive. Probably twice your height, fluffy and huge.

Nearby, a caravan wagon was off the dirt road, unnaturally tilted backwards in a ditch of mud.

.. ah

Civilization.

Right.

…

Nope.

This can wait for another day.

You spun a nice, clean 180 and walk off — partly to organize your thoughts, partly distracted comparing the beast to Earth's cows.

How many people back home died getting rolled over by cows? And with that, how many people here die from being sat on by Sumpter Beasts every year?—

"HEY!! EXCUSE ME!"

The shout startles you, jerking you from your thoughts. You jump, instinctively turning toward the source.

A woman from the merchant group was coming towards you.

You stared, blank, social anxiety not even having a chance to spike. Brain cells only processing: Oh, so, I can understand them. Well, that solves at least one mystery.

"Hello, sorry to bother you. Are you busy at the moment?" she asked.

As you were about to blurt out some form of apology — instinct — when the lady gives you a once-over and adds, "Oh — sorry, you’re not from around here, are you? A foreigner?"

You open your mouth, but she's already talking again, "Well, either way, sorry to trouble you. Our caravan is kind of stuck in a bit of a ditch.." she trails off, hand gesturing toward the wagon you spotted earlier.

A slightly too-long silence passed between you.

She gives a sheepish shrug, "So I was wondering if you had anyway that could help me push it out?"

...

Well… you're getting good vibes. No alarms of the sort ringing in your head. If this universe was going to thrust you into this situation — even if you wish it didn't thrust you in the first place — you might as well go along with it. Maybe get some info out of it, too.

The ghost of your old customer service instincts answers for you before the overthinking can,

"Oh yeah, sure. I don't mind."

--☆--

Mozhgan, as she introduced herself, led you back to the stuck caravan. They were farmers, she said, her and her eldery parents — heading to "the city" from "the port," with a seed shipment in tow.

The elderly couple that made up the rest of the travelling group greeted you with warm smiles. The elder lady stepped forward, gently taking your hand. Her skin was soft and cool, the kind of fragile feel that only comes with age, the feeling of a real elderly hand.

She chattered with a kind lilt, only half of it registering in your head as she tugged you onwards.

You think you caught their names. But if someone asked? Definitely not. The chatter was a mix of addressing you and chatting with the youngest of the trio that followed close by. You're surprised they aren't concerned by your lack of response, but it's also not like you've been given the chance to speak, and it's not like you've been frozen in place; being pushed and pulled around.

Not like you had much of a choice in the matter as you were basically being herded.

"- but you can just call me Granny, sweetheart. Riri, come here!"

You blink. Rihanna?

No. She was calling the Sumpter Beast… Riri.

Right. Cool. We are so, totally, chill.

Mhm.

"Oh, darling, I hadn't caught your name yet.."

Man, social interaction, it's really been awhile. You're already missing the few days you'd basically spent in silence, occasionally humming along to the slowly-becoming-more-familiar melodies in your head.

Finally finding your voice, you manage, "I go by Ner," flashing an awkward, hesitant smile.

It felt strange, saying it out loud — like it was illegal somehow; breaking some unspoken rule.

This elder lady isn't a fae right? You don't believe those existed in game… but you never know no idea how similair or different this world is from the one you knew from the game; it's a nickname anyway, so you should be fine.

… So, you were allowed to use your name, right? The heavens weren’t about to smite you? The world isn't going to glitch out or some shit like that? You try not to let that inner cringe at the thoughts show on your face.

“Ner…” The elder smiled sweetly, patting the hand of the arm she’d gently trapped. “Good name. Unique, simple, very nice.”

Thanks Lady.

Your eyes wandered away from hers, approaching the Sumpter Beast- ahem, Riri.

Yep, thing's huge. It's kind of how you'd imagine a wooly mammoth to look, except maybe its adjacent cousin—  hoLY SHIT ITS SNIFFING YOUR HAND.

You froze — your brain quietly short-circuiting — as it exhaled a gust of hot breath over your arm. The specific smell of creature is strong—

"Riri can help pull," Granny said, "but we need an extra pair of healthy hands to guide the wheel out. That alright, sugar?"

"uh- yeah, I can help"

It was easier than expected. Kind of. You accidentally split some of the wood with your grip — strong enough to leave finger indents — but no one commented on it and you weren't going to point it out. Not going to be suspicious for no reason.

You felt like you could lift the caravan on your own, geez, did this world really give you steroids or something? Could it be considered a power at this point?

You felt anxious at the thought of handling and breaking something delicate.

But that was a problem for future you.

"Um, so you mentioned you're heading to the city?" the question left you mouth before you had time to overthink it.

You tap the definitely-not-FDA-approved metal plate at your temple— the map blinked into view. Your eye flickered from it to Mozhgan, watching closely for her reaction.

She didn't even glance at the map.

"Yep," she said, cheerfully, clasping her hands together, "seeds secured, now we head home to get to work."

You quietly let go of the breath you were holding. Either, a. the map isn’t visible to others, or b. it was normal enough not to be questioned. She didn’t even acknowledge it though, so you think it's the first option. But, you weren't about to specifically ask and risk being the weird one, so you filed it away as something you'd keep and eye on before concluding.

You brush your fingers against the mechanism, closing the map, "I was headed to the city too. Would you mind if I came along?"

Mozhgan glanced back at her parents, who both nodded.

"Of course you can", she grinned, "We were also thinking of breaking for lunch — you're welcome to join us."

You accepted. Trading a smile with hers

— before a shroomboar abruptly barreled into your legs, knocking you flat on your back.

The creature then darted away like it hadn't just attempted murder-by-tackle.

You blinked up at the sky, dazed.

Was that the universe telling you 'no'?

Mozhgan helped you up, clearly used to these kinds of wildlife-induced interruptions. Granny patted down your shoulders with the practiced ease of someone who's done it for generations.

"Poor thing must've been spooked, you're all good kiddo," her husband said, brushing leaves off your back like this was a Wednesday. Which here? It was indeed a normal Wednesday. While back home you had never even seen a normal wild boar—

You were led to a grassy clearing not far from the road. The group unpacked a bundle of cloth-wrapped food and shared it out. You hesitated, then discreetly pulled a few foraged and cleaned vegetables from your inventory to offer the group.

It felt good. Eating with people. Laughing, listening.

Granny offered you something wrapped in rice and steamed leaves. Mozhgan passed you a skewer of freshly grilled mushrooms. Gramp, as the elder man insisted on being called, poured you water from a ceramic jug.

You didn’t realize how much you missed meals — not just food, but sharing food. Being included. You hadn't really had this sort of experience since high school, even family dinners were pretty rare.

You asked a few questions not really needing to carry the conversation as the trio never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Mozhgan explained more about life on the farm, their seed shipments, and how some privileged folk always complained about prices but had never pulled weeds in 34°C heat.

You nodded politely, listened, and took a few mental notes.

When the conversation turned back to you, you kept answers casual and subtly vague.

"-ah, I lost my spear on the road from Apam Woods-"

"-not really part of the Adventurer's Guild — just traveling. I'll probably settle down in the city for a bit, to study and to see if the atmosphere feels like home. I heard it a beautiful place." 

Mozhgan nodded, accepting that with a thoughtful hum.

Granny quipped, "City's not bad. Busy, but the people are good. You're sweet sugar, so you'll have no problem catching a friend. The Akademiya.. all good if you like books, pompous geezers, and headaches."

A grin you couldn't resist grows on your face, "I might be in trouble then."

--☆--

As you all got a move on, the rest of the journey passed in that kind of calm, breezy quiet that made you think maybe — just maybe — this world didn't actually hate you (even though it really didn't say anything, all conjecture on your part).

You passed by the Pardis Dhyai, catching a distant glint of a building's glass dome, but unfortunately you weren't even granted the chance to see the garden's entrance as the group veered off the main route.

"That old bridge would collapse under Riri's big ol' feet," Gramp teased.

"Don't fat-shame the beast," Granny scolded.

You hid a smile behind your hand, kicking away an approaching sentient blue fungus that had ill intentions to the beloved Riri.

They chose a path that passed by Vimara Village. Which was your first time setting sights on an actual inhabited settlement. The style and architecture of the (admittable unstable-looking) buildings were interesting to you; along with being extremely curious as to how some of their lamps work.

A child waved from the path. Mozhgan waved back, casting a long, lingering gaze toward the village.

Granny pulled you closer to her side and leaned toward you with a whisper, "Lend an ear Sugar. She fancies that Kumar boy. Nice lad, but poor thing's suffering from Eleazar-"

"Mom, are you whispering about me?"

"Not at all my Mozha. Just telling Ner here about the village- ooohhh, Riri, careful now, steady with that wheel-"

--☆--

Near dusk, the forest thinned to a hilly plain and you caught sight of the gates.

Real, towering gates — not just concept art, not just game graphics.

An actual city.

You barely registered Mozhgan handing you a small pouch. "Compensation," she said, "for helping us out, and a welcome gift."

You open it. A handful of mora and a bundle of a dried mixed Jueyun Chilis seasoning that you mentioned liking on those mushrooms during lunch.

"Seriously, I—"

"Take it," she insisted, "You're just starting out. We've got plenty."

Gramp pulled something else from his belt — a sturdy-feeling dagger in a weathered leather sheath. One that he had on his person throughout the journey.

"Keep yourself safe, kiddo. Can't punch and kick everything."

You blinked, "I- thank you," with a brief, subconscious bow, not exactly sure how to react to the sudden gifts.

You took it reverently, the weight of it is grounding in your hand. Heavier than any kitchen knife you'd ever held — nice and solid. Something about it made your brain whisper, oh yeah, this bad boy? *smacks* good quality; could do some real damage, seductively into your ear.

You slid the gifts onto your person, taking out some Zaytun Peaches you had picked along the way and adding them to a basket on the wagon, of which they received with a smile.

Thanking them again as you began saying your goodbyes, awkward and heartfelt.

Granny gave your hand a squeeze, "Come find us if you need any fresh veggies darling."

Mozhgan smiled, "And don't forget to stop by for a chat once you're settled."

You waved as they turned down the road — Riri snorted and plodded after them — and you faced the city gates.

You adjusted your pouch and took a breath.

Okay. First order of business: find a place to—

"Halt."

Nevermind.

Wet Socks. Ew. The fucking texture; not a fan… who's playing music..?...

—DID SOMETHING JUST TOUCH YOUR FOOT

AWE WHAT THE F U C K—

The fastest adrenaline-filled wake-up call of your life leaves you a tad dizzy.

Okay. New 'what-the-fuck' question. What the fuck are you doing in a pond — puddle — swamp?

Oh god the moisture. You're gonna start molding, get trench foot, or an infection. Hell nah.

You pull out your lower body that's been marinating in the pond for who knows how long. Fingers are doing the raisin thing. Mud's clingy, dragging down your clothes to weigh pounds heavier. Your sockssss.

Your heartbeat pulses in your ears as your eyes dart around.

Well, there isn't much to look around. It's dark. Underground-looking. Wait — those are bricks. A well? A very large well?

If you were going to be kidnapped, you'd have hoped for less moist conditions. Or maybe more, depending on who kidnapped you.

There's a one-way tunnel of stone in front of you. Looking up the well's walls, a sort of vine or branch spirals upwards towards a transparent green glow on the ceiling.

Which is also the only thing between you and a whole load of water that sits above it.

That's reassuring…

not.

Oh…

Oh wait.

That's a Dendro Seal, isn't it.

Your heart, that was just starting to calm at the empty structure and hope you might not be tortured by a kidnapper, races again — this time you feel the heartbeat in your throat.

A shaky breath leaves your lungs. No crying— Don’t cry- don’t cry—don't cry —

Breathe.

Giving yourself another second, the coolness of the rocky floor is grounding but damn you might actually get sick and that is not what you need right now. Hopefully you didn't unconsciously swallow any of that swamp water.

You pull yourself onto your legs — ughhh sockss; that squelch — standing and gathering the will to actually move.

You glance again at the tunnel, then the seal, then the tunnel again.

Making up your mind at the obvious course of action to get out you look down to watch your step. But pause.

Your hand grazes a texture that isn't our half-soaked, half-damp clothes. You glance down and notice a new addition — a belt; it blended with the mud and with your brain being mush at the moment, you aren't surprised you didn't notice it prior.

A utility belt that strapped over your shoulder like a body bag, supporting belts that wrapped around your waist and thigh. Holding a satchel pocket that laid on your upper thigh. You dig your hand into it; empty.

No other changes, as you look over yourself once more.

Same autumn outfit you went out with earlier that day.

Boots, pants, longs-sleeve and overlayer.

Brushing your dark curls out of your face, cringing at the dirt that's slathered on it until your finger grazes a cold.. A cold something.

You flinch — almost tripping backwards — as a something flashes into view.  

A screen.

You squint.

Floating. Transparent. Familiar.

A map.

Genshin's map.

nonoonnoonononononononoo—

Breathe.

You are in the Ruins of Dahri. In Sumeru. Genshin.

Yes. In Genshin.

Just accept it already brain,

please.

It's time to adapt.

What if you see a hilichurl — you've never seriously fought something- or someone —

The map is plain; time of day at the top right (1:07) — replacing where once would have read your resin and spiral abyss floor.

Top left reads:

[♪Now Playing♪: Hymns of Eventide]

Thanks newly discovered game mechanism. So useful. Exactly what you needed. So, it can tell you the soundtrack haunting your eardrums — to the point you almost questioned if you snapped and were auditorily hallucinating — but can't give you a knife. Great.

With the screen providing no other information, you touch the cold thing again—about the size of two coins, flat with some sort of groove detailing, ah, and its metallic; a soft cling resonates from how your nail taps on it — and the screen closes.

It's kind of creeping you. You wish you could at least see your reflection in the puddle-swamp water, but it's too dark.

With at least an idea of where you are in this — still doesn't make sense — world, and with the growing desperation to get out and that you're wasting time. So off you go. Taking your first steps into the stone and foliage-filled tunnel.

You don't know how you got here, or how you got down the well-thing, but you're not fucking willing to find out right now.

Waiting means either waiting for your supposed kidnapper or waiting for nothing while sitting in the bog.

You barely have time to dread walking through shin-deep water before a hip-tall mushroom decides to spit its spores at you.

If you manage to not get any diseases from this shit you'd be impressed.

Sprinting down the tunnel a bit and hiding behind a wall does the trick to evade it.

Man, if this place doesn't throw you into cardiac arrest-

Following the short path and some descending stairs, you enter a large cavern.

You barely will yourself to look down at the resting mechanisms at the floor.

Quickly freaking yourself out at the thought of accidently waking one, you walk the upward path.

Having a stare-down with the suspicious fallen-tree-bridge you cautiously cross — hauling ass past not one, but two ruin guards.

Just don't think about it — just get out-out-out. Gaslighting yourself that no, you in fact didn't see the signs of them sensing you as the mechanical parts on their shoulders adjusted.

Scaling some debris and hiding some more, you make it to your exit.

The exit that's closed with another Dendro Seal.

Fuck your life.

You contemplate going back into the hell-cavern and throwing yourself to the Ruin Guards instead. Maybe they’d be merciful. Maybe they'd stomp you out quickly.

Then something thumps against your leg.

Rude.

You look down and flinch—a fungus. A round little Dendro Fungus—green slimeball, bobbing on squat legs—looking too pleased with itself for something that just tried to shoulder-check you.

Instinctively, you stumble back and bring your arms up in a sad mockery of a defensive stance.

It stares at you. You stare at it.

It twitches—then launches straight at your knees.

And bounces off. Like a squeaky dodgeball.

“… Huh.”

It lands on its side, stunned, spores creating a dust cloud by its cap.

You blink down at it, fear dissipating. Then your eyes drift upward.

That inactive totem on the ceiling. An upside-down Dendro totem.

You squint.

“…Wait.”

You look at the dendro fungus.

Then the totem.

Fungus.

A slow, unstable idea forms.

“No way that’d actually—”

But you’re already doing it.

You scoop the little bastard up— vegetable-rodent-like, mushroomy, distressingly warm—

YUUH YEEEEEEET—

THWACK.

It hits dead center. The totem pulses to life, glowing green as vines retract from the exit door with a loud rustle and a hiss.

You stand there, stunned. Still in your throwing stance.

Then whisper,

“…Holy shit.”

--☆--

Finally, you get out of the damp undergrounds.

Emerging into Apam Woods.

Did this world give their trees steroids or somethin'?

Some Hashirama bullshit—

You find yourself staring at some vegetation.

Not for long; picking the… you don't remember the name, Harra Fruit? But it's like a spice, right?

It smells like a spice when you sniff it.

You'll probably be hungry soon. Not having any idea of how long it's been since your last meal, but at least you can gather something to eat.

Unhooking the leather pocket on your leg, you put the fruit inside.

Only for your hand to go deeper than you expected it to — trippy as shit — and a new screen appears.

Oh, so it's like an inventory.

[Harra Fruit: 1]

(:

:D

Bro you aren't built for these revelations—

You pick the rest of the fruit on the vine and continue to forge a patch of mint, yellow berries and a Sumeru Rose further ahead.

With the springy forest floor, the scent of crushed mint and the lingering humidity that feels like a very weak man trying to waterboard you,

so begins your hoarding.

--☆--

This is not fun.

You didn't sign up for this — somehow dodging a Rishboland Tiger’s claw by sheer accident.

This bitch is as tall as your shoulder. Who the fuck said this was okay?

Scary how close it had to come for you to know its height relative to yours.

With a terrified sprint, you duck under its swipe intended to snatch your head —

and now it’s standing in front of you.

Oh. Cool. Great. This is how you die.

Are you supposed to run? Let it chase you until your demise, letting your flesh becomes forest garnish?

Some part of your idiot brain crouches into a stance.

Not one you ever learned — not anything real — just low enough to maybe throw yourself sideways fast enough to save a limb, or two, or your life.

It leaps.

You duck.

You throw a fist upward.

— congratulations, you're a dead bitch, you absolute dumbass.

Sure, you took care of your health. Walked sometimes. Ate your vegetables.

But your only gym experience was that one class in high school.

You're not a gym bro.

You're not even gym-adjacent.

So now you die. Not by claws — but by not being a Chad.

Your fist connects —

right into its throat.

A yelp.

The tiger flies across the path.

Rolls.

Crashes.

You're still crouched, hand raised, brain buffering. Holy shit.

It lets out a pained, deflating growl, and lurches to its feet, tail curled tight.

You — the dumbass you are — growl back.

What are you doing. Why did you do that.

And somehow… it backs off.

Turns.

Runs.

Leaves you standing there, trembling from the flight-and-fight, very confused, but very much alive.

…What the hell just happened?

Did this world give you steroids?

You almost died. You know that, right?...

Built like a tree, bro. The Lorax wishes he got a piece of this ass.

Maybe it was one of those moments where the body surpasses its limit in a crisis. You’ve heard of that — the adrenaline, the emergency strength.

But that usually ends in torn muscles, broken bones, dislocated joints.

You feel… fine.

You stare at your fist like it betrayed you by simply not falling off.

--☆--

Walking in a dazed contemplation, still shaken and still somehow alive, you stumble forward through the underbrush.

That's when you spot it.

The most eye-catching structure in Apam Woods — a pulsing, glowing dome of blue and green light, humming like an alien heart — the Cherenkov Radiation Onion.

You stare.

You forget to blink.

It's like an eldritch salad.

Fantastic.

Then movement catches your eye.

You duck behind a thick tree trunk just in time to avoid being spotted by a small patrol of Hilichurls and... fungi.

Yep. They teamed-up now. Apparently, they're friends.

And they are huge.

Again, you can't stress this enough, everything is so weirdly tall.

Hilichurls are supposed to be, what, kinda scrunkly?

These guys are tall. Probably around half to a foot taller than you.

Each one moves with a purpose, each with their distinct fur (hair?), patterned masks, and patchwork armor that looks way too customized for what used to be low-poly enemy mobs.

They're just so detailed.

They are living.

And they are looking around.

Your hand grips bark like a lifeline. You try to breathe slow.

Calm. Cool. Collected.

Keep calm and pony on, what ever happened to those shitty top text bottom text memes? My little ponyyy, slice of bologna—

Nope. Not helping.

You begin to inch away, trying to not think too hard and freak yourself out even more, and deciding to take your time finding a long, out-of-sight path.

You vaguely remember a voice-line about fungi behavior — some are chill, some are not. Although you don't remember the circumstances of the behaviours apart from the classic, “just don’t hit them,” reasoning.

Still, after your tiger debacle, you don’t exactly want to field test which category of 'nice or not' this group fits into.

If even people can attack other people; their own species; you don't feel confident in assuming the opposite for these… creatures.

--☆--

You duck under a massive, moss-draped root to get clear view—

and your heart lurches into your throat.

There’s something staring back.

Green eyes. Leafy hat. Beady smile. Short, but not small.

An Aranara.

You both freeze.

Panic.

It panics too.

You make a noise. A high-pitched strangled sound that might've been “hieee" or “hngggk.”

It makes a noise. Something like a squeaky breath.

And then… silence.

Neither of you moves.

You want to run, but you can’t take your eyes off it.

They were cute in the game. They looked cute. Adorable forest guardians. Just some little guys.

But here? In person?

You get the weirdest, primal feeling that if provoked, this thing would absolutely go for your tendons and weave them into a friendship bracelet or a garland if it felt fancy.

Your eyes burn.

You blink.

It blinks.

Mutual confusion and unease.

You don't know where you find the mobility, but you finally move — slowly backing off and ducking behind a nearby boulder. Not too far, just… enough to shield your ankles.

From your hiding spot, you peek back around. Your eyes water; a bodily reaction from the "too much today" emotions.

It’s still there.

You watch it watching you, its 'hat' drooping slightly over its round face. Thin leaflike 'propellers' spin lazily from its head. Right. Propellers. That's a thing they do. Do they really fly? Do you believe in physics here? Should you?

You blink again.

It blinks back.

Your inner monologue spirals:

“According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly—”

It takes a cautious step back.

Then another.

Then disappears behind the tree line.

"Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground—"

You’re left in silence.

…

Ehehee. Heheh heh.

A small laugh escapes you.

High-pitched. Relieved. Maybe a little deranged.

It left.

The way it left was terrifying. But still — it left.

You kind of wish it hadn’t.

They’re bigger than you thought — like one to two feet tall. Mini child-size. That's probably where you got the ankle-biter impression.

You’d expected Tinkerbell. You got wild forest Baby Yoda.

Still. You feel kind of bad for scaring it. And even worse for being the one to hide away.

You exhale slowly.

Such an emotional high from such a brief encounter.

You don't know how that situation would've played out, and you don't think you'd want to know—

Then you feel it.

"The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible."

A presence. Next to you.

Your soul detaches from your body.

You glance down—

The green Aranara.

Standing next to you.

Is this karma for throwing the fungus? It's really going to bite your calves—

It holds out… a flower?

A soft yellow-and-blue blossom —

Sumeru's Lunar Lotus.

You were at a loss. Eyes flick between its unchanging smile and the flower.

It tilts the flower toward you, swaying it back and forth like a tantalizing desire, nonetheless, urging you to take it.

You blink rapidly, finally taking your brain by the reins.

You (mentally) said it yourself — you were sad it left, and guilty you scared it off (which apparently you didn't as it's right here).

Can't lose the chance now.

It hasn't attacked you yet anyway, oh god is this a bad decision—

You dig into your thigh pouch and pull out your singular Sumeru Rose.

You crouch slowly, mirroring it.

Tentatively, you hold the rose out.

An offering.

To it —

To them?

The Aranara’s expression doesn’t change — that wide, unreadable smile still fixed on its face, but you feel like they're pleased.

You bring your other hand up.

Without losing a beat, the Aranara trades you.

Placing their flora in your empty palm and pivoting to take yours.

A lotus for a rose.

No words. No noise.

Then it nods.

Turns.

And walks away.

You stay frozen in place.

…

…honestly?

For your first proper, non-violent interaction in this world, it could’ve gone way worse.

You look down at the Lunar Lotus, holding it closer, admiring the unfamiliar but beautiful blossom.

You're not sure what that interaction meant — a welcome? A warning? Still… it somehow made you feel a little less alone.

You're already thinking of how to preserve it. Press it into a book, maybe. Something to prove this moment actually happened.

You don’t know if the Aranara knew you weren’t from this world.

Maybe it didn’t care.

Either way, a small piece of confidence takes root in your chest.

Yeah.

You can deal with this.

You can deal with this world.

The scent of the Lunar Lotus lingers faintly on your fingers as you carefully tuck it away.

Hi reader! Welcome to a new fic, homecooked just for you.

Sorry for the slow-paced chapter; I'm still trying to figure out pacing and a lot had to be established or hinted early on, since it wouldn't really make sense to introduce those things later. You/OC does have a name, it just hasn't had a chance to be used yet. The POV will shift to third person (chap 6, unless something changes), once the focus can turn more toward character dynamics.

Reminder, LONG FORM FIC, it'll be a while until main sumeru characters become friends an' all BUT IM SO LOOKING FORWARD WHEN WE HIT THAT PART.

Might make a faster paced version of this fic focusing less on world-building and lore, but I'm currently enjoying focusing on this right now and am challenging myself to work chronologically. I'm also hoping this style will be more immersive.

Sorry not sorry for the bad jokes lol. Brace yourself, they don't stop.

I've been planning and compiling things for this fic for about a year now. This chapter has been written, rewritten, and edited so many times that I just have to bite the bullet and post it — otherwise it'd never see the light of day, because I'll never be fully happy with it lol. Gotta placate myself with the fact that I can always go back and edit it if needed.

Planning to cross-post on other sites, but haven't gotten to that yet. I'm not really familiar with Tumblr's layout, so I'm doing my best to figure everything out. For digital art or tech folks, what are the settings to not make my sketches look so blurry? i confuse.

Anyway, sending you off cause at this rate I won't ever hit post.