Arlen opened his eyes inside an old tent, the sharp scent of herbal medicine and alcohol thick in the air. His head pulsed with a searing ache, and his hands trembled uncontrollably, too weak to even clench into fists.
'I'm… still alive.'
It hadn't been a nightmare. Everything—the blood, the tunnel, the monster—was real.
He couldn't even summon the strength to speak. All he could do was lie there, staring at the worn fabric of the tent ceiling while the groans of the wounded echoed around him.
"Oh… you're awake," came a young man's voice nearby. "Don't worry, you're in the Melrose refugee camp."
"We treated you for the plague poison. You need rest for now." the man added. "I'll have someone bring you food."
'Melrose… refugee camp…'
That could only mean one thing—he had survived the Prologue.
Suddenly, a familiar translucent blue screen blinked into view above him.
[Hidden Scenario Completed]
Reward: +2 Stat Points
'A hidden scenario? Don't tell me that damned rat was part of one… FUCK—even the prologue had a hidden reward?' Arlen cursed inwardly.'Still… two Skill Points this early is huge for a cursed character like mine.'
Then another notification appeared.
[System Initialization Beginning...]
'Right… the system initialization.'
Just like in the main playthrough, for some reason a character's base stats were revealed only after clearing the prologue.
Character Sheet
Name: Arlen (Cursed)
Age: 18
Level: 1
Race: Human
Resources:
HP: 15/100
MP: 0/20 (−1/min due to Curse Affliction)
Stats:
Strength: 1
Agility: 1
Intelligence: 1
Constitution: 1 (Debuff applied—curse weakens this stat once it reaches 5)
Willpower: 1
Unassigned Stat Points: 2
'Yeah… trash stats, as always.'
Skills: None
Arlen sighed and turned his head to the side. This world was unforgiving. He'd learned that much already. Worse, there was no guarantee he'd ever return to his original world—even if he survived.
But he didn't want to die.
'I feel like garbage… Aha…' A hollow chuckle slipped out.
'There's still time left.'
Soon, the Melrose soldiers would begin moving the refugees to Felrod—the nearest fortress city. Felrod was the southern command center of the Melrose Kingdom and the critical point against the Centuria Empire's growing aggression.
He shifted uncomfortably and let his eyes close.
'I need to recover first…'
Two days had passed since his arrival at the refugee camp. With the care of Melrose's medics and clerics, Arlen had regained enough strength to walk on his own.
He wandered through the camp after breakfast. The scene was grim—injured soldiers lying on stretchers, civilians huddled beneath makeshift tents, the air heavy with smoke and disinfectants.
Still, he'd been lucky. The plague poison, while dangerous, was treatable. He'd been found before the corruption could spread to his vital organs.
Melrose soldiers moved throughout the camp in their distinctive armor—dull gray plates trimmed with black, a blood-red rose etched over them.
Though smaller and less wealthy than the Centuria Empire, the Melrose Kingdom had held its ground through sheer grit.
'I need a bath… Damn, I feel like I've been lying in a pile of filth.'
Arlen made his way to the nearby river, just a few paces from the refugee camp. The area was heavily guarded—soldiers were posted at regular intervals to secure access to water and other vital resources.
A handful of men were already at the river, stripping off their armor and washing off the grime of battle. Judging by their build and posture, they were soldiers.
'Best not to bother them,' Arlen thought, averting his gaze.
He moved further upstream, toward a more secluded spot, and stripped down. For the first time, he got a good look at himself.
As expected, his face matched the game's model—sharp features, light brown eyes, and dark hair. But his body… it was something else.
Thin. Pale. Fragile.
He looked like a gust of wind could knock him over.
'…Man, this body…'
Still, his hands told a different story. Calloused palms, rough skin—signs of manual labor. This character had worked hard, probably to support his family. But no matter how much effort he put in, he'd gained nothing. The curse had taken it all.
'The game never explained how or why he got cursed.'
After a long, much-needed soak in the cold water, Arlen felt slightly better. Clean, refreshed, and less like a pile of trash.
On his way back to the camp, he noticed the same group of soldiers walking ahead of him, chatting among themselves and paying him no mind.
"Did you hear? The Commander's returning tomorrow," one of them said.
"So soon?" another asked.
"Yeah. Apparently, they crushed one of Centuria's forward bases," the first replied.
"Hmm… maybe we'll be moving to Felrod then," someone muttered.
"Could be. The captain already sent scouts out and told squad leaders to prepare."
Arlen followed at a distance, silent, keeping their voices within range.
'So, they're moving us to Felrod after all…' He let out a quiet sigh.
Two more days passed, and news of the march to Felrod spread like wildfire through the refugee camp. Tension buzzed in the air. One of the junior commanders from the Southern Melrose Command was said to be leading the convoy.
Arlen was given a change of clothes—a thick cloth tunic and plain black trousers. They were simple but comfortable and easy to move in. Still, he felt exposed. His only weapon, the pickaxe that had saved his life, had been taken away.
"GATHER UP!!" a soldier bellowed, the sharp command echoing through the camp.
Hundreds of carriages stood in line, tents already dismantled. Soldiers herded the able-bodied refugees into groups, while the wounded—both civilians and soldiers—were helped onto the wagons.
Arlen slipped into the mass of people. No one paid him much attention. Just another face in the crowd.
He would be walking the entire way alongside the carriages.
That wasn't the problem. He could manage the distance.
The real problem was he was unarmed.
And in this world, that meant vulnerable.
Why worry, though? The Melrose soldiers were well-armed, vigilant, and seasoned. The road to Felrod was under military protection.
So why the unease?
A translucent blue window flickered to life in front of him.
His expression hardened.
[Quest: A Great Tragedy Befalls]
[Objective: Escape the Refugee Train]
[Escape Points Available: 4/4]
[Rewards: ???, Storage Ring]
The character quest—his fixed quest—had just begun.
Arlen clenched his fists.
'Of course… it wouldn't be that easy.'