River stared at the blinking screen in front of him, heart pounding in disbelief.
[Create a stronger bond +1 Level. Flirt with a greater beauty to unlock new skills.]
A laugh escaped him—not a joyful sound, but brittle and disbelieving, like the cracking of ice underfoot.
"Flirt?" he whispered, rubbing a hand down his face. "I've never even talked to a girl before."
The absurdity of it gnawed at him. Back home—wherever home even was now—he had been a ghost. A quiet, awkward presence who knew more about ancient theories and philosophical treatises than he did about conversation. He wasn't some charming rogue or smooth-talking hero. He'd barely passed for a functioning human being in social settings.
And now, the key to survival in this alien world rested on his ability to do the one thing he had absolutely no skill in.
He laughed again, bitter and hollow. "Yeah, sure. Why not?"
Before his mind could wander further down the spiraling road of panic, the woman—Alara—grasped his outstretched hand and pulled herself upright with effortless strength. Her grip was firm, the grip of someone used to winning fights, but there was no hostility in her touch.
She studied him with sharp, assessing eyes. "So," she said, "you're a wizard."
River blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
She gestured to the faint tendrils of wind still dancing around his fingers. "You summoned wind. That's magecraft. Or are you going to pretend you don't know what that means?"
The magic, faint as it was, still lingered in his palms like an electric memory. It responded to his breath, to his heartbeat, as though recognizing him. As though it had always been there, just waiting.
"I wasn't supposed to have magic," he said slowly. "My name is Isen Faelir. Son of the High Wizard."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, and River could see the recognition flicker in them.
"I was banished," he went on, his voice flat, "because I couldn't cast a single spell. No sparks. No runes. Nothing. I was a stain on my bloodline. A living embarrassment. Even my father—he made sure everyone knew it."
Alara looked at him for a long moment, the breeze rustling between them. Then, she sheathed one of her daggers with a soft click and gestured to the spot in the sand where she had fallen. "And yet, here we are. You bested me. You summoned wind. Doesn't sound like a powerless man to me."
River gave her a wry, humorless smile. "Yeah. Tell that to my father."
She exhaled sharply. "Well, you beat me. That earns you something. I'll take you to the Matriarch. Maybe she'll let you plead your case. Might even offer you a boat back to your precious High Realms."
River imagined it—returning home to a cold court, judgmental stares, and the unforgiving gaze of a man who had never seen Isen as a son. He saw the executioner's blade, gleaming in torchlight. The memory sent a chill through him.
But what choice did he have?
He nodded. "Alright. Lead the way."
They stepped into the forest, and it was like crossing a threshold into another world. Towering trees rose high above them, their trunks wide enough to house entire rooms. Bark shimmered faintly, hues of violet and iron-gray. The leaves overhead swayed in colors no normal forest should wear—blue, jade, copper. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in radiant beams, turning the mossy earth beneath them into gold and shadow.
Strange creatures moved in the distance—slender beasts with elongated limbs, their eyes gleaming like lanterns. Birds with radiant feathers cried overhead, and the hum of unseen insects filled the air like a chorus.
It wasn't just a forest. It was a living, breathing place steeped in magic.
River cleared his throat. "So… you haven't told me your name." He kept his voice casual, carefully hiding the fact that he already knew it from the system's display.
"Alara," she answered without looking back.
"And this place is…?"
She threw him a glance. "If you're the son of the High Wizard, shouldn't you already know?"
River stiffened. "I meant this area. Of the island."
She didn't press, but her silence said enough.
"This is the South of the Amazon Domain."
River came to a halt. "Amazon? Like… Wonder fucking Woman?"
She stopped, brows drawing together. "What?"
"Nothing," he said quickly. "Just… nothing."
The system had called her an Amazonian Scout. This wasn't just a land of warrior women—it was their empire. And he had just waltzed into their territory with the grace of a falling brick.
Alara brushed aside a wall of hanging leaves, "We're here."
River stepped through, and his breath caught in his throat.
The village spread out in a circle, wrapped around the base of colossal trees whose canopies seemed to touch the clouds. Homes were built high above the forest floor, suspended by thick ropes and supported by natural limbs. Rope bridges swayed gently between them. Wooden platforms bristled with activity—women sharpening blades, stringing bows, hammering armor, or tending to massive feline beasts with thick manes and horned brows.
The ground level wasn't quiet either. Training arenas made of packed red earth echoed with the clash of wood against metal. Fire pits crackled. Smoke and the scent of spiced meat drifted in the air.
But above all, there was beauty.
Every woman he saw looked like she'd stepped out of a legend. Some tall and regal, but all of them bearing scars like jewelry and tattoos like banners of pride. They moved with confidence. Power.
River stood frozen, a flicker of awe washing over him.
He didn't belong here.
He was just a scholar from another world, a nobody wearing another man's face, wielding power he didn't understand.
As they walked past, every head turned. Some women stared with disdain. Others with open curiosity. A few murmured to each other, lips curling in amusement or skepticism.
Alara said nothing as they approached the largest building nestled at the heart of the village—a structure made from whitewood and stone, entwined with glowing vines. Guards stood at the entrance, parting at her nod.
Inside, it was dim, the air scented with incense. Torches lined the walls, flickering with bluish flame.
At the far end of the chamber sat a woman on a high throne carved from some wood that looked ancient. She was radiant—beauty that struck like lightning, coiled with danger. Long silver hair spilled over her shoulders, and eyes like molten gold fixed on River with unreadable intensity.
Alara bowed. "Matriarch. I bring you… a wizard."
River swallowed hard.
The screen blinked again above the Matriarch's head.
[Greater Beauty Detected. Red Heart Threshold Locked.]