Misaki woke to an urgent pressure in his lower abdomen and the uncomfortable realization that his digestive system had finally caught up with two days of eating alien food.
He stumbled out of the bedding, looking around the small hut in mild panic. "Lyria?" he called out, but she wasn't there. He spotted a chamber pot in the corner and made his way toward it with awkward haste.
What followed was... unpleasant.
The stone hog, the starc, the mysterious herbs—everything that had tasted so wonderful going in was now staging a violent rebellion on the way out. Misaki sat there for what felt like an eternity, his stomach cramping and his face flushed with both exertion and embarrassment.
This is not how heroes are supposed to start their day, he thought miserably.
When the ordeal finally ended, he felt weak and slightly feverish. His newly healed wound throbbed with a dull ache, and his head felt light. He managed to clean himself up as best he could with the water basin and cloth provided, but the nausea lingered.
Lyria returned a few minutes later, took one look at him, and raised an eyebrow. "Digestive troubles?"
"That obvious?" Misaki asked weakly.
"You're pale and sweating. Common reaction for off-worlders adjusting to our food." She moved to her shelf of remedies and selected a small vial of pale green liquid. "Drink this. It's made from sha'tyum extract. It'll settle your stomach and help your body adapt to the local flora and fauna in your diet."
Misaki downed the potion gratefully. The taste was minty and cool, and within moments, the cramping in his stomach eased. The feverish feeling faded, replaced by a pleasant warmth that spread through his core.
"Better?" Lyria asked.
"Much. Thank you." Misaki took a deep breath. "Is this going to happen every time I eat?"
"For a few days, probably. Your body needs to adjust. The sha'tyum will help, but expect some discomfort." She gestured toward a wooden tub in the corner he hadn't noticed before. "There's a bath prepared. Clean yourself properly. I've laid out clothes for you—village standard. Your flight suit is... well, it's barely holding together anyway."
The bath water was lukewarm but clean, scented with herbs that reminded him of rosemary and mint. Misaki scrubbed away two days of sweat and blood, feeling almost human again by the time he emerged. The clothes Lyria had provided were simple: rough-spun pants in a dark brown, a cream-colored tunic that laced up the front, and a leather belt. They fit reasonably well, though the pants were slightly too long.
He looked at himself in the polished metal mirror hanging on the wall and barely recognized the person staring back. The village clothes, combined with his buzz cut and still-pale complexion, made him look like a refugee from some historical drama.
"Ready?" Lyria asked from the doorway.
"For what?"
"To find work." She smiled at his expression. "Your wound is nearly healed. The quest objective should complete soon. Which means it's time to start earning your keep. Come. I'll take you to the Labor Guild."
The Labor Guild was located near the village center, housed in a large structure that was part building, part open pavilion. The roof extended over a wide courtyard where dozens of villagers gathered, some sitting at long benches, others standing in clusters discussing work and contracts. A large board dominated one wall, covered in notices written in the flowing Vulcan script.
What struck Misaki immediately was the size of everyone.
The villagers weren't just tall—they were built like professional athletes. Men and women alike stood well over six feet, with broad shoulders and muscle definition that suggested lives of hard physical labor. Even the teenagers present had the kind of physiques Misaki had only seen on Olympic weightlifters.
He looked down at himself—five-foot-nine, lean bordering on skinny from months in space where muscle atrophied without constant exercise. He suddenly felt very, very small.
I look like a twink among giants, he thought with a mixture of amusement and dismay.
"Misaki!" A cheerful voice called out, and a young man bounded over with the kind of energy that suggested either extreme enthusiasm or complete lack of self-awareness.
The boy—and Misaki had to think of him as a boy despite the fact that he towered at six-and-a-half feet—had a broad, open face with bright eyes and an infectious grin. His arms were thick with muscle, and he carried a training sword across his back that looked like it weighed more than Misaki's entire body.
"You're the sky-faller! I've heard all about you!" The boy extended a hand the size of a dinner plate. "I'm Riyeak. Shield class, fourth rank. Welcome to M'lod!"
Misaki shook the offered hand, trying not to wince at the enthusiastic grip. "Nice to meet you. Though I have to ask—how old are you?"
"Fifteen!" Riyeak said proudly. "Just had my birthday last month. Chief Shy'yao said I'm progressing faster than most. I should make shield leader by seventeen if I keep training hard."
He's fifteen. He's FIFTEEN and he looks like he could bench press a car.
"That's... impressive," Misaki managed.
Riyeak's grin widened. "So you're looking for work, right? What can you do? Combat class? Crafting? Magic?"
"I don't know yet. My system just unlocked, but I haven't had time to check my stats or class options." Misaki gestured around the guild hall. "I figured I'd start with whatever I can manage."
"Well, what are you good at? Can you fight? Lift heavy things? Use tools?"
"I mean, I'm an engineer—or I was. I can figure out mechanical problems, design solutions..." Misaki trailed off as he noticed several nearby workers watching the conversation with barely concealed amusement. "What?"
"No offense," Riyeak said, his tone apologetic but honest, "but you might want to start with light work. You're kind of... small. And thin. I don't think you could lift a standard sword, let alone use it in combat. And most tools here are designed for people who can actually, you know, move heavy stuff."
The words stung more than Misaki wanted to admit. He looked around the guild hall again, noting the axes and hammers hanging on the walls, the lumber being moved by workers who made it look effortless, the training weapons that seemed sized for giants.
"I'm not that weak," he protested, moving toward a rack of tools. He grabbed the handle of a standard woodcutter's axe and tried to lift it one-handed.
The axe didn't budge.
Misaki tried with both hands. The axe rose perhaps six inches off the ground before his arms started shaking and he had to let it drop with a heavy thunk.
Laughter erupted around the hall. Not cruel laughter, exactly, but the kind of good-natured mocking that comes from watching someone dramatically overestimate their abilities.
"See what I mean?" Riyeak said, clapping Misaki on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble. "You need to put some meat on those bones! Train more, eat more, build up your strength. Give it a few months and you'll be lifting axes like the rest of us."
"A few months," Misaki repeated flatly.
"Maybe a year," one of the other workers called out helpfully. "Depends on your constitution stat and how hard you train!"
Misaki felt his face burning. "Fine. What about farming? That can't require superhuman strength, right?"
"Farming's good!" Riyeak said enthusiastically. "Honest work, decent pay, and it'll help you build muscle. Come on, I'll introduce you to Millia. She runs the village kitchens and oversees the farm work."
Before Misaki could respond, a woman's voice cut through the chatter. "Riyeak, stop scaring the poor boy. I'm right here."
Millia turned out to be a woman in her mid-thirties with strong, weathered features and hands that showed years of work. She stood a solid six feet tall with the kind of practical build that spoke of someone who spent their days on their feet. Her brown hair was tied back in a no-nonsense braid, and her eyes assessed Misaki with the same clinical precision Lyria used when examining patients.
"So you're the one who fell from the sky," she said. "Can you follow instructions?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Can you work in the sun for extended periods?"
"I've done EVA training in full exposure. I can handle it."
Millia's eyes narrowed. "I don't know what that means, but I'll take it as a yes." She grabbed Misaki's arm—gently, but with enough firmness to make it clear she was in charge—and started walking toward the village edge. "Come on. Time to see if you're worth feeding."
The farms stretched along the southern edge of M'lod, taking advantage of the rich soil where the village met the forest. The fields were organized in neat rows, with different sections devoted to different crops. Misaki recognized starc from his reading—the potato-like tubers that formed the base of most meals. Other sections grew mountain root, various herbs, and plants he didn't recognize.
Millia handed him a woven basket. "Your job is simple. Harvest starc and redcooil pepper. I'll show you how to identify the ready ones."
She knelt beside a starc plant, demonstrating how to check the stem for the telltale yellowing that indicated maturity. "You dig around the base, feel for the tuber, and pull gently. If it comes up easy, it's ready. If it resists, leave it." She moved to a nearby bush with small red pods. "Redcooil pepper turns dark red when ripe. Grab the stem, twist, pull. Simple."
"Seems straightforward," Misaki said.
"It is. But there's a trick." Millia stood and brushed dirt from her hands. "The plants here are tougher than you're used to. They'll fight back if you're not careful. Watch."
She reached for a starc plant and pulled without the careful approach she'd demonstrated. The plant's stem whipped back like a released spring, snapping against her forearm with enough force to make a sharp crack. Millia didn't even flinch.
"The starc has flexible roots that store tension. Pull wrong, and it'll snap back. The redcooil pepper has thorns that pop out when you grab it carelessly. Work smart, not hard." She handed Misaki a pair of thick gloves. "Fill three baskets by noon. Four copper per basket. That's twelve copper total—enough for a decent meal and some basic supplies. If you work fast and fill more baskets, I'll pay accordingly. Questions?"
"None," Misaki said, pulling on the gloves.
"Good. Get to work."
The first starc plant Misaki tried to harvest taught him humility immediately. He dug around the base like Millia had shown, felt for the tuber, and pulled.
The stem snapped back and caught him directly in the groin.
Misaki dropped like a stone, gasping for air while nearby farmers burst into laughter.
"Forgot to mention!" one of them called out. "Always pull from the side, not straight up!"
"Could have... told me... that earlier," Misaki wheezed.
Over the next few hours, he learned through painful trial and error. The starc got him twice more in sensitive areas before he mastered the side-pull technique. The redcooil pepper stabbed his fingers even through the gloves until an older farmer showed him how to twist the stem first to retract the thorns. The sun beat down mercilessly, and Vulcan's weird orbit meant it hung low and constant, creating heat that felt both intense and strangely diffuse.
But slowly, painfully, he filled baskets.
By noon, Misaki had completed three baskets and started on a fourth. His back ached, his hands were sore despite the gloves, and he was pretty sure he'd be finding starc welts on his body for days. But he'd done it.
Millia inspected his harvest with a critical eye, checking the quality of each tuber and pepper pod. Finally, she nodded. "Acceptable. Twelve copper." She counted out the coins into his palm—rough-stamped copper pieces about the size of quarters. "You work tomorrow?"
"If you'll have me."
"Be here at dawn. Same rate." She paused, then added, "You did better than I expected for a first-timer. Keep it up and I might increase your pay."
Misaki pocketed the coins and headed back to find Lyria, feeling both proud and utterly exhausted. He found her near the Labor Guild, talking with Riyeak.
"How'd it go?" she asked.
Misaki showed her the coins. "Earned my first wages."
"Good. You'll need them." Lyria's expression turned serious. "Now comes the hard part. You need to build your own home."
Misaki blinked. "What?"
"Village rules. Everyone contributes, everyone provides for themselves. I've housed you during your recovery, but now that you're healed, you need your own dwelling." She gestured toward the outskirts of the village. "There's unclaimed land on the eastern edge. You'll need to purchase lumber and construct a basic shelter. Until then, you can sleep in the Labor Guild's common area."
"But I don't know how to build a house!" Misaki protested. "And won't anyone help me?"
"Help you build? No. Village rules are clear—your home is your responsibility. It's a rite of passage. Everyone has to do it." Lyria's tone softened slightly. "However, I can show you the basics since you're new to our world. And others will answer questions if you ask respectfully. But the work is yours."
Misaki felt his excitement at earning copper drain away. "How much does lumber cost?"
"For a basic one-room dwelling? About twenty copper for minimal Rulwood planks. More if you want quality materials."
Twenty copper. He'd just earned twelve after hours of backbreaking work, and half would need to go to food and supplies. Building a home suddenly seemed impossibly far away.
"Come on," Lyria said, noting his expression. "I'll take you to see Torran. He sells processed lumber. You can at least start planning."
The lumber yard was near the forest edge, where massive stacks of cut wood towered like wooden cliffs. Torran the blacksmith—who apparently also ran the lumber operation—was a bear of a man at six feet tall, with arms like tree trunks and a beard that reached his chest.
"Sky-faller," he grunted when Lyria introduced them. "Need wood?"
"Eventually," Misaki said. "How much for enough to build a small dwelling?"
Torran led him through the yard, pointing out different wood grades. "Basic Rulwood planks, rough cut—twenty copper for enough to build a ten-by-ten structure. Processed planks with joinery—thirty copper. Tra'ji fire-resistant wood—fifty copper and I'd need to special order it."
He stopped by a rack of tools. "You'll also need an axe to cut and shape the wood. Eight copper for a basic one. Hammer and nails—another five copper. So minimum investment is thirty-three copper just to start."
Misaki did the math in his head. At twelve copper per day... assuming he could maintain that pace... nearly three days just to afford the materials.
"I'll need to work more," he said quietly.
"Everyone does," Torran said, not unkindly. "Come back when you've saved enough."
As they left the lumber yard, Misaki felt a notification pulse in the corner of his vision. The system interface, which had been relatively quiet all day, suddenly expanded.
[QUEST COMPLETE: Survive and Adapt]
[All Objectives Completed]
[Reward: Full System Access Unlocked]
[INTEGRATION COMPLETE]
[Full interface now available]
[Class system unlocked]
[Stat display unlocked]
[Skill trees unlocked]
Misaki stopped walking, his attention fully captured by the cascade of information flooding his vision. Lyria noticed and gave him space, understanding that something significant was happening.
[CHARACTER STATUS]
[Name: Misaki Haruto]
[Age: 21]
[Species: Human (Otherworlder)]
[Level: 1]
[CORE ATTRIBUTES:]
[Strength: 4]
[Constitution: 12]
[Dexterity: 9]
[Intelligence: 16]
[Wisdom: 11]
[Charisma: 8]
[Vitality: 28]
[CHAKRA AFFINITIES:]
[Muladhara (Earth): Locked - Requires STR 10]
[Svadhisthana (Water): Locked - Requires CON 15]
[Manipura (Fire): Stirring - 8% Awakened]
[Anahata (Air): Locked - Requires DEX 12]
[Vishuddha (Sound): Potential Detected - Requirements Unknown]
[Ajna (Light): Locked - Requires INT 20]
[Crown (Planetary): Locked - Legendary]
[AVAILABLE CLASSES:]
[Guard Path - LOCKED (Requires STR 12, CON 15)]
[Healer Path - LOCKED (Requires WIS 15, Chakra Awakening)]
[Scout Path - Available (Requires DEX 9)]
[Crafter Path - Available (Requires INT 12)]
[Engineer Path - Available (Requires INT 15, Otherworlder Origin)]
[Farmer Path - Available (Base Class)]
[CURRENT TIME: 15th Hour of Day Cycle]
[STATUS: Fully Healed]
Misaki stared at the display, processing the information. His strength was abysmal—no wonder he couldn't lift the axe. His intelligence was his highest stat, which tracked with his engineering background. And most of the powerful classes were locked behind attribute requirements he didn't meet.
But he had options. Scout, Crafter, Engineer, Farmer—all available.
"Everything alright?" Lyria asked.
Misaki looked up at her, then down at his weak, tired body, then back at the system display showing him exactly how far behind he was compared to everyone else.
And despite everything—the pain, the humiliation, the overwhelming challenges ahead—he smiled.
"Yeah," he said. "Everything's fine. I know what I need to do now."
He had work to do. Muscles to build. Stats to raise. A home to construct.
Time to get started.