The Art of Four - Dungeons and Dragoons Book 1

Kaiden exhaled deeply as he passed through the gate, feeling a small wave of relief. There were no questions, no checkpoints, no one stopping him to demand papers he didn’t have. It was as though the guards didn’t care—at least not about him. And that was good, because he had nothing. No ID, no travel papers, no money.

As he made his way into the town, the streets narrowed with stalls lining both sides. The noise of trade filled the air—voices calling out, haggling, the clatter of goods being set out for display. People moved in all directions, busy with their business. His eyes flickered over everything, but his thoughts turned inward, toward the looming reality of his situation. I have no money, he realized, his stomach twisting again. No connections. I don’t know anyone here. Hell, I don’t even know where ‘here’ is.

His hands instinctively went to his face, and in quick succession, he clapped his palms against his cheeks three times. The sharp sound brought him back to the moment, and he forced the negativity out of his mind. He had something. Something he’d never really had before: his health.

A small grin tugged at his lips. Back on Earth, he had been well off, very well off. A talented programmer who built a successful start-up and sold it for seven figures. The money, the comfort—it was all his. Yet, even with all that, he’d spent countless nights in his chair, telling himself he would give it all away for just one thing: a healthy body.

Well, it looked like he’d gotten his wish.

His grin widened, this time more genuine. Alright then, he thought. I’ll figure it out. The world around him might be strange, but he wasn’t helpless. He had his health, a sharp mind, and a knack for figuring things out. He’d built a company from scratch, navigated complex systems back on Earth. This? This was just another system to learn. He could handle it.

With renewed resolve, Kaiden straightened his posture and continued down the bustling main road, deciding to just take it all in for now. He could figure out the details later. He caught snatches of conversation—words he understood and some that were completely alien to him—but the flow of it all felt oddly natural. The market was alive with energy, and Kaiden soaked it in, every detail a puzzle piece he could start piecing together later.

As he walked deeper into town, the market stalls began to thin out, the crowd slowly dispersing. The narrow streets widened into broader paths, and the noise of the market gradually gave way to a more subdued atmosphere. The buildings were more spaced out here—small restaurants, shops with glass windows, places that catered to a different kind of trade. The rich smell of roasting meat wafted through the air, blending with the scent of freshly baked bread from a nearby bakery.

Kaiden’s stomach growled, and he realized how long it had been since he’d eaten. Food... He hadn’t even thought about that. He had no money, no idea how the currency here worked, and no clue where he could get a meal. His eyes wandered to the restaurants, his mouth watering at the thought of a hot meal. But without coin, what was he supposed to do?

Still, there was no point in panicking. He had always found a way, and he would this time too. "Something’ll come to me," he muttered, pushing forward, letting the quiet confidence in his abilities take root.

A scene in one of the narrow alleys caught Kaiden's eye, and he tensed. Three unsavory-looking men had cornered a teenager—barely more than a boy by the looks of it. They had the kid surrounded, his back pressed against the cold stone wall. The leader of the group, a broad-shouldered man with a sneer permanently etched on his face, shoved the kid with a rough hand.

"You're fucking short again," the man spat. "What’d we tell you about that?" Without waiting for a response, he slapped the kid across the face, sending him stumbling to one knee.

Before Kaiden even had time to think, his feet were already moving. His newfound legs propelled him forward, and before he could second-guess himself, he shouted, "Hey! Leave him alone!"

The three men turned in unison, their faces contorted with confusion. The leader squinted at Kaiden, his sneer deepening. "Huh? Who the fuck are you?"

Kaiden couldn’t help the smirk tugging at his lips. Before, he wouldn’t have been able to do anything. He would’ve been stuck in his chair, watching from a distance, helpless. But now? He could move. He could do something. I’ve got this, he thought, his confidence surging.

"I'm just a friendly passerby," Kaiden said casually, walking closer. "Now, how about you leave the kid alone?"

One of the other men, a shorter guy with crooked teeth, snorted. "What the hell is that?" he asked, nodding toward Kaiden's clothes.

"Yeah," another chimed in, scratching his chin. "What’re you wearing?"

The three thugs exchanged puzzled glances, clearly unbothered by Kaiden's sudden interruption. They were more interested in his strange, modern clothes than taking him seriously.

"Never mind that," Kaiden said, waving off their confusion. "Leave that kid alone."

The leader snorted, taking a few steps forward. "Why don’t you mind your own business?"

Kaiden’s heart pounded, but he forced himself to stand tall. "Hurting some kid is my business."

The other two thugs, still holding the boy by the arms, yanked him to his feet. The leader reached out and grabbed the kid by the face, roughly turning his head toward Kaiden. "Friend of yours?" he asked, his voice dripping with mockery.

The kid’s eyes were wide with fear, and he shook his head furiously, mouthing a silent “no” in the leader’s grip.

The leader sucked his teeth, unimpressed. "Alright," he said with a slow, deliberate nod. Then, with a jerk of his chin, he signaled the thugs to release the kid. The boy didn’t need to be told twice—he bolted down the alley, his footsteps echoing as he disappeared into the maze of streets.

Kaiden exhaled, his chest swelling with a small sense of triumph. "That’s better."

But the victory was short-lived. The leader turned to him, his expression darkening, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. He stepped closer, his eyes flicking over Kaiden’s suit. "Say... these are some strange clothes," he muttered. "Where’d you get ‘em?"

Before Kaiden could respond, the other two thugs flanked him, each placing a heavy hand on his shoulders. The weight of their grip sent a cold wave of realization crashing through him.

Oh shit, Kaiden thought, his earlier confidence evaporating in an instant. He didn’t know how to fight. He barely knew how to throw a punch, let alone defend himself in a real situation. The sudden rush of adrenaline didn’t help either—he felt his heart hammering in his chest, his throat dry.

I do not have this, his mind screamed.

The leader’s grin widened as he leaned in, his breath hot and close, making Kaiden’s skin crawl. "Since you interrupted my business," he said, his voice low and threatening, "you gotta pay."

Before Kaiden could react, the leader drove his fist into Kaiden’s gut with a force that knocked the wind out of him. Kaiden gasped, doubling over in pain as he dropped to one knee, the impact sending shockwaves through his body.

"Give the guy a hand," the leader chuckled, nodding to his thugs.

The two men wasted no time. They moved in on Kaiden, striking him with quick punches and kicks, forcing him to relinquish any hope of resistance. He tried to fight back, but each blow was worse than the last. The pain ripped through his body, leaving him too dazed to defend himself. They yanked at his suit, pulling it off piece by piece, laughing as they stripped him down to nothing but his boxers.

Kaiden felt a boot hit his ribs, his back slamming into the cold stone of the alley as the final piece of his dignity was taken. The three men stood over him, the leader chuckling, "Good doing business with you."

With that, they turned and sauntered off, still laughing amongst themselves, the sound of their voices fading as they disappeared into the streets.

Kaiden lay on the ground, staring up at the dull sky, the pain pulsing through his body—but then, surprisingly, it began to fade. His breath came in shallow gasps, his lungs aching, but the sharp edge of pain was already dulling. It should have hurt more. He knew it should have. And yet, it wasn’t long before the pain began to melt away completely.

The cold stone pressed against his back, the hard surface strangely soothing in contrast to the heat that had radiated from his bruises only moments ago. Kaiden didn’t move, not for a long time. His mind wasn’t even focused on how fast the pain had vanished. Instead, he thought about the reality of his situation.

Dammit, he cursed to himself, feeling the weight of failure settle over him like a heavy blanket. Now I really have nothing. Not even clothes. He was lying in the middle of a strange town, in nothing but his underwear, with no money, no plan, and no clue how to survive.

He closed his eyes and exhaled, long and slow, as frustration and exhaustion took hold. He had been so sure, so confident that his newfound health meant he could handle anything. But now... now he wasn’t so sure.

Lying there in his boxers, Kaiden couldn’t help but feel a grim sense of irony. He’d been given the one thing he always wanted—his health—but everything else had been taken from him. Everything.

"Great," he muttered, eyes still closed. "Just great."

When Kaiden opened his eyes again, the first thing he noticed was that he was no longer lying on the cold, hard stone of the alley. Instead, he was on something soft—warm rug beneath him, cushioning his back. His eyes fluttered open to an unfamiliar sight. Above him stretched a grand ceiling adorned with a magnificent mural that stretched the entire width of the room. The painting, reminiscent of the Sistine Chapel, depicted scenes of creation and life, swirling with color and light, all centered around a massive chandelier that sparkled like a cluster of stars.

Where am I now? he thought, his mind struggling to catch up with the sudden shift in his surroundings. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, then slowly sat up, blinking in bewilderment.

Before him stood a large, imposing table made of dark, polished wood, so grand it almost felt like it belonged in a royal court. Behind the table sat a man—no, a giant of a man. Even seated, his size was overwhelming. His broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his robes, and his arms were thick and muscular, like they could snap an iron bar without effort. A full, thick beard, auburn and speckled with streaks of silver, framed his strong, weathered face. His skin was tanned, as though he spent his time in the elements rather than lounging in luxury, and his deep-set eyes—sharp, yet with a glint of something wise—watched Kaiden with calm amusement.

The man radiated power, but it wasn’t just his size that made Kaiden feel small. There was something about him, an energy, a presence that seemed to fill the entire room. His burly figure, the long, wild mane of dark hair that framed his face, and the way he sat with an air of unshakable confidence made it clear that this was no ordinary person.

"Welcome to Aterra," the man said, his voice deep and rumbling like distant thunder. There was a weight to his words, something that resonated with the very walls of the room.

Kaiden blinked, still disoriented. He glanced around again, taking in the luxurious space, but his eyes were drawn back to the giant before him. "Aterra?" he echoed, the word unfamiliar, yet somehow... right.

The man nodded slowly, his eyes gleaming with the knowing look of someone who had seen many lifetimes pass. "Yes. Aterra. This planet." He leaned forward slightly, resting his massive hands on the table. "I am Oros, the creator of this world."