# Chapter 1: A Shitty New Beginning

Alex opened his eyes and squinted at the bright sunlight. His head hurt. He had no idea where he was or how he got there. The ground beneath him felt hard and cold. Not like his bed at all.

"What the..." he mumbled.

He sat up slowly, blinking away the confusion. This wasn't his room. This wasn't even the hospital. He found himself sitting on a dirty cobblestone street, his back against a cold stone wall. People walked by, not even looking at him, dressed in weird clothes that looked like something from a Renaissance fair.

Alex looked down at himself. He wore tattered clothes that smelled like they hadn't been washed in weeks. A small wooden bowl sat in front of him with a few strange-looking coins inside.

"Where am I?" he whispered to himself. The last thing he remembered was taking his meds and going to sleep in his room at Pinewood Mental Health Facility. Now he was here, wherever "here" was.

A woman walked by, her long dress sweeping the ground. She glanced at Alex with disgust before hurrying past.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" Alex called out. "Could you tell me where I am?"

The woman quickened her pace, not even turning around.

Alex stood up, his legs shaky and weak. He grabbed the bowl with the few coins and looked around. The street was busy with people, horses, and even what looked like a cart pulled by something that definitely wasn't a horse. It had scales and a long neck.

"This can't be real," Alex said to himself. "Must be the new meds Dr. Peterson put me on. They're making me hallucinate again."

He pinched himself hard on the arm. It hurt. That wasn't how hallucinations worked, was it? He tried to remember what his doctor had told him about distinguishing reality from delusion, but his mind felt foggy.

Alex walked a few steps, his legs still unsteady. The world around him seemed solid enough. He could feel the breeze on his face, smell the unpleasant odors of the street—a mix of animal dung, body odor, and something cooking that didn't smell appetizing at all.

A group of children ran past him, laughing and shouting in a language that somehow he understood, even though it didn't sound like English.

"Hey, kids!" he called out. "What city is this?"

One of the children, a boy with dirt-smudged cheeks, stopped and looked at Alex curiously.

"You don't know where you are, beggar?" the boy asked, his accent strange but the words perfectly understandable to Alex.

"No, I just... woke up here," Alex replied honestly.

The boy laughed. "You're in Eldermere, the capital of the Western Kingdoms. Did you drink too much ale again?" With that, the boy ran off to join his friends.

"Eldermere? Western Kingdoms?" Alex muttered. "That doesn't sound like any place I've ever heard of."

His stomach growled loudly, reminding him that he was hungry. He hadn't eaten since dinner at the hospital last night—at least, he thought it was last night. For all he knew, he could have been unconscious for days.

Alex looked at the coins in his bowl. He had no idea what they were worth or how to use them. But he needed food, and he needed it now.

He walked down the street, looking for something that resembled a food vendor. The city was bustling with activity. People haggled at stalls, guards in shiny armor patrolled the streets, and occasionally, Alex could swear he saw people using what looked like magic—small lights floating above their palms, objects moving without being touched.

"I'm definitely hallucinating," he decided. "Or dreaming. A very vivid dream."

After walking for what seemed like forever, Alex found a small stall selling bread and what looked like meat on sticks. His mouth watered at the sight.

He approached the vendor, a heavyset man with a bushy beard. "Excuse me, sir. How much for some food?"

The vendor looked him up and down with obvious disdain. "For you, beggar? Five copper pieces for the smallest loaf."

Alex looked down at his bowl. There were three copper-colored coins, two silver, and one that looked like gold. He held out the bowl, not knowing what to do.

"Can I get something with this?"

The vendor's eyes widened at the sight of the gold coin. "Where did a street rat like you get that?"

Alex shrugged. "It was in my bowl when I woke up."

The vendor narrowed his eyes suspiciously but quickly snatched the gold coin. "This will buy you three loaves and two meat skewers. But don't tell anyone I served you, understand? I don't want your kind hanging around my stall."

Alex nodded, not understanding the hostility but too hungry to care. The vendor wrapped the bread in a piece of cloth and handed it to him along with the skewers.

"Now get lost," the vendor said, already turning to his next customer.

Alex moved away from the stall, finding a quiet corner to eat his food. The bread was hard and the meat tough, but it was the most delicious meal he'd ever had—or at least it felt that way to his hunger-addled brain.

As he ate, he tried to make sense of his situation. Either this was an extremely vivid hallucination—the kind that Dr. Peterson had warned might come if he stopped taking his medication—or he had somehow been transported to another world.

"Transmigration," he said out loud, remembering the term from one of the fantasy novels another patient had let him borrow. "Like in those stories where people get sent to magical worlds."

The idea was ridiculous, but then again, so was everything around him. The strange clothes, the architecture unlike anything he'd seen before, the creatures pulling carts that definitely weren't horses, and the occasional flicker of what looked like magic.

Alex finished his meal and stood up, feeling stronger now that he had food in his stomach. If this was a transmigration situation like in those novels, didn't the protagonist usually get special abilities or something?

He laughed at himself. "Yeah, right. And I'm going to become the most powerful wizard in the land."

Just then, a commotion erupted further down the street. Alex heard shouting and saw people scrambling to get out of the way. Curiosity got the better of him, and he moved toward the noise.

A group of rough-looking men were pushing a vendor around, knocking over his cart of fruit. The vendor, an old man with a hunched back, pleaded with them to stop.

"Please, I've already paid this week's protection fee! I don't have any more!"

One of the men, clearly the leader, grabbed the old man by his collar. "The fee went up, old timer. Didn't you get the message? It's double now."

Alex recognized the situation immediately. Even in this strange world, there were bullies and thugs. He'd dealt with plenty of those in his life, especially in the hospital when new patients thought they could establish dominance by picking on the quiet ones.

Without thinking, Alex stepped forward. "Hey! Leave him alone!"

The group turned to look at him. There were five of them, all muscular and mean-looking, dressed in dark clothes with various weapons hanging from their belts.

The leader laughed. "Look at this, boys! A beggar with a hero complex!"

His cronies joined in the laughter.

Alex immediately regretted his intervention. What was he thinking? In the hospital, he had nurses and security guards to step in if things got out of hand. Here, he was on his own against five armed thugs.

"I, uh, just think you should pick on someone your own size," Alex said, trying to sound braver than he felt.

The leader let go of the old vendor, who took the opportunity to scurry away. The five men now turned their full attention to Alex.

"Someone our own size? Like you?" The leader approached Alex slowly, cracking his knuckles. "You don't even look like you could take on a child, let alone us."

Alex backed up slowly. "Look, I don't want any trouble."

"Should have thought of that before you opened your mouth, beggar," one of the other men said.

They advanced on him, and Alex realized he was in serious trouble. He looked around desperately for some way to escape, but the thugs had him surrounded.

"Give us whatever coins you've got, and we might let you keep your teeth," the leader demanded.

Alex reached into his pocket for the remaining coins from his bowl. As he was about to hand them over, his heel struck something on the ground, making him stumble backward and fall on his butt.

The thugs laughed. "Pathetic," the leader sneered.

Alex's hand landed in something soft and warm. He looked down and almost gagged. It was a pile of dung, probably from one of the horse-like creatures he'd seen pulling carts.

"Great," he muttered, quickly pulling his hand away and trying to wipe it clean on the ground beside him. But as he did, something strange happened. The dung seemed to dissolve into his skin, leaving behind a warm, tingling sensation that spread up his arm and throughout his body.

"What the..." Alex gasped as he felt a surge of energy coursing through him. His vision sharpened, colors becoming more vibrant, and he could suddenly hear conversations from across the street as clear as if the people were standing next to him.

"Oh, yes, I got a new ability," he said, the words coming out of his mouth almost automatically, as if he was reading from a script.

The thugs paused, confusion crossing their faces.

"What did you say, beggar?" the leader asked.

Alex stood up, feeling stronger and more confident than he ever had in his life. He could sense the new power within him, as if it had always been there, just waiting to be awakened.

"I said," Alex repeated, his voice deeper and more resonant than before, "I got a new ability."

The leader scoffed. "The beggar's gone mad. Let's just take his money and be done with it."

He lunged at Alex, his fist aimed directly at Alex's face. But to Alex's surprise, the man seemed to be moving in slow motion. Alex easily stepped aside, watching the leader's fist sail past harmlessly.

"What the hell?" the leader exclaimed, stunned by Alex's unexpected agility.

The other thugs exchanged nervous glances.

"Get him!" the leader commanded, and all five rushed at Alex at once.

Alex didn't know how to fight. He'd never been in a real fight in his life. At the hospital, he always tried to avoid confrontation. But now, his body seemed to move on its own, as if he had been training for years.

He dodged the first attacker, sidestepped the second, and delivered a perfect counter-punch to the third that sent the man flying back several feet. The fourth swung a knife at him, which Alex caught by the wrist before delivering an open-palm strike to the man's chest, knocking the wind out of him.

The leader, seeing his men being dispatched so easily, drew a short sword. "You're no beggar," he growled. "Who are you really?"

Alex had no answer. He didn't know himself anymore. All he knew was that touching that dung had somehow given him superhuman abilities.

The leader charged at him with the sword. Without thinking, Alex held out his hand, and to his astonishment, a burst of invisible force shot from his palm, hitting the leader square in the chest. The man flew backward, crashing into a nearby stall and demolishing it completely.

The remaining thugs looked at Alex with terror in their eyes. "He's a mage!" one of them shouted.

"Run!" another yelled, and they scattered, dragging their unconscious comrades with them.

The leader struggled to his feet, his eyes wide with fear. "This isn't over," he threatened before limping away as fast as his injured body would allow.

Alex stood in the middle of the street, staring at his hands in disbelief. A small crowd had gathered, watching him with a mixture of fear and awe.

"Did you see that?" "He took down all of Rendar's gang by himself!" "He must be one of those rare wild talents."

The whispers reached Alex's enhanced hearing easily. He didn't understand half of what they were saying, but he understood enough to know that what he had just done was not normal even for this world.

The old vendor whose stall had been threatened approached Alex cautiously. "Thank you, young man," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "Those were Rendar's men. They terrorize all the vendors in this district."

Alex nodded awkwardly. "Uh, you're welcome."

"But how did you do that? The force spell without incantation? Are you from the Academy?"

"I... I don't know what happened," Alex admitted. "I just touched some... um... animal droppings, and suddenly I could do all that."

The old man's eyes widened. "Animal droppings, you say?"

Alex pointed to the pile he had fallen into, which was still partially there.

The old man looked from the dung to Alex with increasing excitement. "That's griffin dung! Rare and said to have magical properties, but I've never heard of it granting abilities like yours!"

"Griffin? Like the mythical creature?" Alex asked, his head spinning with all the new information.

"Mythical? Griffins are as real as you and me, young man. Rare, yes, but hardly mythical."

Alex tried to process this information. He was in a world where griffins existed, and apparently, their dung had just given him superpowers. If this was a hallucination, it was the most elaborate one he'd ever experienced.

"What exactly did it do to me?" Alex asked.

The old man shook his head. "I'm no mage, just a humble fruit seller. But what you did—moving like a master fighter, repelling Rendar with a force spell without incantation—that's extraordinary. You should seek out the Mage's Guild. They could tell you more."

Before Alex could ask where to find this Mage's Guild, the crowd parted, and a group of armored guards approached.

"What's going on here?" demanded their leader, a stern-looking woman with a scar across her cheek. "We heard reports of magic being used in the street."

The old vendor stepped forward. "This young man saved me from Rendar's gang, Captain. They were demanding extra protection money again."

The captain looked at Alex skeptically. "You took on Rendar's gang alone? How?"

Alex glanced at the old vendor, who gave him an encouraging nod. "I, uh, seem to have acquired some abilities. Accidentally."

"Accidentally?" The captain raised an eyebrow.

"I fell into some griffin dung," Alex said, pointing at what remained of the pile, "and suddenly I could move faster, hear better, and... well, I shot some kind of force blast from my hand."

Several of the guards chuckled, but the captain silenced them with a look.

"Griffin dung granting magical abilities? That's a new one." She turned to one of her subordinates. "Check if there's a bounty on Rendar or his men." The guard nodded and hurried off.

The captain turned back to Alex. "What's your name, beggar?"

"Alex," he replied automatically.

"Just Alex?"

He realized he should probably have a last name in this world, but he couldn't think of anything except his hospital ID number. "Alex... um, Seven," he said, using the first digit of his patient number.

"Alex Seven," the captain repeated, clearly not believing him. "Well, Alex Seven, if what you say is true, and you've somehow gained magical abilities from griffin excrement, you should report to the Mage's Guild immediately. Untrained magic users are a danger to themselves and others."

The guard returned and whispered something to the captain, who nodded.

"It seems there is indeed a small bounty on Rendar for tax evasion and extortion," she told Alex. "Five silver pieces. Not much, but it's yours if you want it."

Alex blinked in surprise. "Mine?"

"You defeated him and his gang, didn't you? The bounty belongs to you." She handed him a small pouch. "But I strongly suggest you use some of it to buy a bath before you go to the Mage's Guild. They're particular about cleanliness."

Alex accepted the pouch, feeling its weight in his hand. Five silver pieces didn't sound like much, but judging by what he'd paid for food earlier, it might be enough to get by for a while.

"Thank you," he said. "Where can I find this Mage's Guild?"

The captain pointed down the street. "Head that way until you reach the central plaza. You can't miss the Guild Hall—tall building with the blue dome. Show them what you can do, and they'll either train you or contain you." Her tone suggested the latter might be more likely.

With that, the guards dispersed, and the crowd began to break up, though many still cast curious glances at Alex.

The old vendor patted him on the arm. "Thank you again, young man. Be careful with your new gifts. Power brings attention, and not all of it good."

Alex nodded, feeling overwhelmed. Just hours ago—or what felt like hours ago—he had been a patient in a mental hospital. Now he was in a strange world with magic and griffins, and somehow, he had superpowers from touching animal dung.

"This can't be real," he muttered to himself, but the weight of the coin pouch in his hand, the lingering smell of the street, and the newfound energy coursing through his body all felt too vivid to be mere hallucination.

As he started walking in the direction the captain had indicated, Alex couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something much bigger. Whether this was all in his head or he had truly been transmigrated to another world, one thing was clear—his life would never be the same again.

"Oh, yes," he whispered, the strange phrase once again coming to him unbidden, "I got a new ability." He looked down at his hands, still tingling with power. "Now what the hell do I do with it?"