Timothy woke to the blaze of a bright morning sky in a world still deeply unfamiliar to him.

What roused him wasn't the dawn's warmth, but a sharp pinching pain on his skin and the unpleasant feeling of hard objects striking his body.

His eyes snapped open.

Even before he fully registered his surroundings, another projectile whizzed into the edge of his vision and smacked him square on the forehead, stinging sharply.

Timothy turned his gaze toward the source, which was, predictably, the direction of the settlement.

There, he saw a group of four-armed creatures casually hefting enormous rocks in all four of their limbs.

They crushed these boulders down into fist-sized chunks and started pelting him with the fragments.

"Bastards," Timothy muttered as he forced himself upright.

Stones and dust cascaded off his body in a gritty shower, the sheer amount of debris telling him this had clearly been going on for some time before he'd even stirred.

From the monsters came a guttural, rhythmic sound that he realized, with mild irritation, was their version of laughter.

"Six of them again," Timothy murmured as he walked toward them in slow, measured steps.

"I wouldn't even be surprised if it's the exact same bunch as yesterday."

He raised his eyes, studying all six figures.

Sure enough, he quickly recognized one of them, the grumpy one.

The brute with the massive foot, the same creature who'd nearly crushed his ribs last night and whose log-sized leg had almost launched him like a thrown javelin.

The glare.

The posture.

Timothy doubted he'd ever forget that beast.

That particular monster was standing exactly as before: upper arms folded across his chest, lower arms planted on his waist.

Timothy couldn't tell whether the creature was trying to flex his thick, furred biceps or simply projecting dominance.

To Timothy, these beings still felt purely like beasts.

It was difficult, almost impossible, to look at something so utterly nonhuman and see it as a "person," especially without any genuine bond or understanding between them.

He finally closed the distance, stopping about a meter away from the group.

He had no idea how long he'd slept, nor did he bother to try to guess the time from the sun's position.

What mattered to him was counting the days and nights passing here, because for some reason, he had a gnawing sense that he'd end up spending far longer in this world shard than he ever had in any dungeon.

Now that daylight fully illuminated his surroundings, he noticed a new detail about them: the prominent canines jutting from their jaws.

Some creatures displayed obvious fangs that protruded even when their mouths were shut, while others merely had a pronounced bulge around their jawline, hinting at the teeth lurking beneath.

The group gestured in their usual series of small motions and guttural noises, signaling Timothy to follow.

He went along with them, led back to the same shelter he'd been taken to the night before.

Out of all the tents in the settlement, that particular one seemed unique, judging by how often it was used and how many individuals gathered there.

He knew precisely whom he'd find waiting inside and sure enough, there he was.

At this point, Timothy had mentally crowned the one-eyed monster as the chief, the undisputed leader of these creatures.

Daylight trickling into the shelter revealed the chief's face in sharper detail.

The single eye was exactly as Timothy had suspected: blinded, likely in battle.

Jagged claw marks radiated outward from where the creature's left eye should have been.

And during daylight, Timothy noticed something else.

Their eyes weren't glowing red anymore; instead, the creatures' irises were nothing but pitch-black orbs.

It didn't particularly unsettle Timothy, if anything, he was grateful for the absence of the eerie ruby glow.

The chief's physique was massive, towering over any other creature Timothy had encountered so far.

He sat upon what seemed like a natural boulder in the middle of the shelter, a rocky protrusion that appeared to serve as both throne and foundation for the structure.

Timothy couldn't help scrutinizing their physiology again.

The so-called "paws" were more like claws, primitive and powerful, with four slightly awkward-looking fingers.

It struck him that these creatures' entire anatomy seemed adapted for a life split between bipedal movement and bursts of animalistic ferocity.

One consistent detail stood out: every single one of these beings sported exaggerated fangs, some with unruly teeth poking out of their mouths.

But the chief was on another level entirely.

In his case, those protruding teeth weren't just canines, they were tusks.

Two long, gleaming ivory blades jutted upward from his jaw toward his face, somehow not hindering his speech in the slightest.

Timothy was certain those tusks weren't decorative.

In summary, the chief was undeniably a monster, but a monster leagues above the others.

And as far as Timothy could tell, only the strongest had the right to lead.

He stood face-to-face with the chief of the creatures inside the shelter, six other beasts looming around them like sentinels.

The air was thick with tension, heavy enough that Timothy half-expected one of those towering beasts to snap his spine like a twig at any moment.

Yet none of them moved.

His senses were razor-sharp, every muscle poised for combat, even though he knew there was no point trying to fight all seven of them in this tight space.

"You are not welcome," the chief said suddenly, his voice as gravelly as shifting rocks.

"Though you are now forced to be part of us. If you wish to return to your land, you may do so at any time. However, you are too weak and weakness is not tolerated among the Darvani."

This time, the chief spoke without his usual snorting punctuations or guttural growls.

He didn't even bother looking directly at Timothy as he spoke, as though Timothy wasn't worth the effort.

The words themselves weren't necessarily false, but Timothy recognized all the barbs hidden between the lines.

It was clear enough: he wasn't welcome here, and while they were technically allowing him to coexist with them, that hospitality depended entirely on his ability to survive.

And they were absolutely convinced he couldn't.

Or at least, that's what they believed for now.

The bit about "returning" he dismissed outright.

He was certain that leaving this shard without completing the quest would be treated as failure, and he couldn't afford any setbacks.

He didn't know precisely what the system would strip from him for failing a hidden quest, but he knew one thing for certain: he needed every advantage in power he could get his hands on.

Finally, he had at least learned one crucial detail.

"The Darvani?" Timothy asked, seizing the word for future reference.

"The first thing you must do is prove your strength."

Without warning, the chief rose to his full towering height and shoved a long staff into Timothy's hands.

It looked like wood, but the instant Timothy gripped it, he nearly dropped it from sheer weight.

It felt like holding a steel beam rather than a wooden pole.

"You are not allowed inside the village unless summoned. You will obey every command without question, regardless of its nature. You possess nothing unless it is given to you. And lastly, your life is worth less than the tribe, but more than the night creatures. Don't die and don't attempt to harm us."

And with that blunt decree, the leader thrust Timothy out of the tent.

Timothy stumbled backwards, hit the dirt, and landed flat on his rear.

The staff in his hands was nearly two meters tall, towering at least a head above him.

It was so heavy it threatened to topple him over every time he shifted his weight.

His unceremonious ejection drew a few curious stares from passing beasts, but Timothy didn't bother acknowledging them.

He forced himself upright, bracing the massive staff against the ground for balance.

Carrying it wasn't impossible, but figuring out how to handle it without looking like a fool was another problem entirely.

Eventually, he decided it was acceptable simply to drag it across the settlement floor if necessary.

Not that he planned to roam around just yet, technically, he was now banned from entering the village proper.

He'd have to find somewhere outside the settlement to establish a makeshift camp.

The one silver lining was that the wilderness surrounding the settlement was wide open.

So long as he stayed out of sight, they'd probably assume he'd run off or been eaten by one of the night creatures.

In a way, the whole affair felt like a test and he was determined to pass it.

He made up his mind to leave the village for now and survey the terrain in detail.

He trudged back toward the area where he'd slept on the ground the night before, finally dropping the staff with a heavy thud once he arrived.

From this vantage point, he could still see the settlement clearly.

A few guards stood vigilant at the borders, never failing to track him with their eyes, growling low in their throats whenever he drew near.

He ignored them entirely.

One thing Timothy couldn't help noticing was the bonfire that always burned perpetually in the center of the settlement.