Ronny found himself hunched over on an old bench. He watched the foot traffic go by as he tried to come to terms with the events of his death, and his subsequent encounter with me. Passing him were a wide assortment of people: typical humans, pointy-eared elves, and hulking orcs.

I’d sent him to a fantasy-type world. One where ordinary people wore oversized, star-spangled hats with huge wooden staves, broadswords long enough to drag against the ground, and armor too thick to fit through door frames. I hoped that because a lot of the video games he’d played during his life were set in similar settings, he’d take to it quickly.

For my taste, the place was a little generic. I’d been to dozens of nearly identical worlds in the past and there wasn’t anything that really set the place apart. There were taverns, blacksmiths, inns, and of course, a massive stone wall surrounding the city. All the asinine, unquestioned troupes that were nearly omnipresent in these kinds of worlds were here in vogue. That made the place boring for me, but being here would be novel experience for Ronny, and that’s all that really mattered.

He stood up and started walking around, which was a relief to see. The fact that he was taking action now showed acceptance, at least to a small degree. He wandered around aimlessly for a while, taking in the sights and smells that only a fantasy city could offer. He got a few odd looks every now and again, thanks to his obviously foreign appearance, but the gazes were merely curious.

Ronny wore a grey t-shirt, some jeans, and his favorite old moccasins. It wasn’t an outfit that I imagine someone like you would find particularly striking, but it was definitely out of place in a world like this.

Eventually, he came to a bazaar of sorts. It was a huge, stone plaza with a myriad of small tents and wagons littered about with no rhyme or reason. People were selling all sorts of things: produce, swords, potions, or maybe even a magic scroll or two. Most of all though, there were customers. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of them—and nearly everyone walked from store to store with intent. Most of them were buying groceries and other essentials.

Honestly, it was a rather ordinary sight. Open markets were extremely common, even on Earth. Despite that, this was the time Ronny—with his reclusive lifestyle—had never been to one. He had a stupid grin on his face, as though he were a particularly lucky kid on Christmas. I was happy to him smile, but I wished it would have been in response to something a little more impressive.

He entered into the marketplace. Without money, he wouldn’t be able to buy anything, but he just wanted to explore the place a little. On the inside, it was pretty much the same as it appeared from the outside. The closer he got to the center; the more established-looking stores appeared to be. Prices also seemed to trend upwards. The world’s natives used English in both speech and writing, so he could understand the signs that listed prices.

From a world-building standpoint, it didn’t make a lot of sense for a world without England or any of the other countries responsible for the development of the language to use English, but I wasn’t the one who created this world. It was another god’s fault that this world didn’t make much sense, not mine.

Ronny stopped wandering when he noticed a crowd gathering around a small, wooden stage. They seemed to be waiting for something to happen, so Ronny decided to join them. He stood near the back.

Atop the stage stood a man of striking stature. He had to have been at least twice the size of Ronny and every inch of the man’s body was covered in thick muscle, though most of it was obscured by a bulky suit of armor.

The man spoke with in a powerful baritone, “My countrymen, it’s with great misgivings that I come to speak today. As I trust everyone is aware, the City of Ignar—and its people—have fallen to the Demon King’s forces. Estimates from the Royal Court put the casualties in the hundreds of thousands.” The crowd was silent, and a melancholy started taking root in them, “But I’m not so daft as to speak for the purpose of reopen a fresh wound in your already sullen hearts. No, the reason I speak is to warn.” The soldier cleared his throat and took a deep breath, “General Madison has declared that our city, the mighty capital of Barnock, will be the next to come under siege.”

It was chock-block standard scenario. A war against the ‘Devil King’ and his army was nothing new. It showed up all the time in the JRPGs Ronny played, and he was definitely familiar with the threat. As for what he’d do in response, I did not yet know. Hopefully, he’d take arms against approaching evil and protect the citizens, but I somehow doubted that Ronny was courageous enough to do that. Not even with the with the massive advantage he’d soon discover I had installed into his soul.

The soldier, probably a high-ranking knight or something similar, continued even louder than before, “That, my fellow Barnock citizens, is why I come to address you. We, the King’s Army, need your help to survive the oncoming assault. For the next two months—and by King Grivelspyre’s honor, no longer than that—the city will be placed under martial law.”

The crowd, having ballooned to encompass most of the plaza, gave an uproar. Martial law meant a lot of things. To support the war effort, tradesmen would have to ration goods, curfews would come into place, and worse of all, people would be conscripted into military service. Even if there was no other way for the city to survive, it was hard to truly understand that. The only silver lining was that the King had given is a definite ending and sworn that he would stay true to his word. That was impressive leadership, no doubt, but it seemed unrealistic to me. I worried about what the news meant for Ronny. Since he was a young, somewhat able-bodied youth with no particularly useful skills, he would probably be drafted—which might result in his second death. I didn’t want him dying so soon after his rebirth, but at the same time, I didn’t want to intervene either. Doing so could mess with his development, so decided to sit back and watch for the time being.

He continued,” That’s all the information I have for now. The King will personally deliver an address from the Palace next week. Everyone is suggested to attend, as he’ll be taking questions from the crowd for a few hours following the address.” The speaker hopped down from the stage and left, surrounded on all sides by other soldiers. From what I could tell, this King seemed respectable. I’d have to inquire about purchasing the dude’s soul later.

The crowd began to disperse, and Ronny did the same. He didn’t know where he was going, or what he was going to do next, but staying there wasn’t going to do anything for him.