“Time to eat.” He opened his mouth, anticipating the crunch.

Buzz.

The obsidian slab vibrated violently against his hip.

[ INCOMING CALL: THE ROTTING DRUID (RANK 4) ]

Red stared at the screen. Then he looked at the hardtack.

He prioritized.

Crunch.

He took a bite, chewing slowly as the tablet vibrated. The call timed out, and silence returned.

Red went for a second bite.

Buzz.

[ INCOMING CALL: THE ROTTING DRUID (RANK 4) ]

Red rolled his eyes. He deliberately finished chewing, swallowed, and took a sip of spectral water. The call timed out again.

“Persistent weed,” Red muttered.

Buzz.

Third time.

Red sighed, wiped the crumbs from his mouth, and tapped [ ACCEPT ] with aggressive force.

“What?” Red snapped.

The screen flickered. The avatar that appeared wasn’t a face. It was a thick, green plant stalk. On top, a single large leaf flopped over like a bad haircut. Two twig-like branches stuck out from the sides, waving stiffly like cartoon hands.

It looked ridiculous.

“Greetings, Neighbor!” The Druid’s voice was wet and raspy, like wind blowing through a swamp. “I hope you enjoyed the housewarming gift. A little fresh air does wonders for the lungs.”

Red narrowed his eyes. “You call biological warfare a gift?”

“I call it a hello,” the stalk-face wobbled.

“Listen, mulch-brain,” Red said, his voice dropping an octave. “I’m letting this slide once because I’m busy. But if you send another cloud… if you even sneeze in my direction… I will burn your entire forest down. I will turn every tree you own into charcoal.”

‘Although I am aware I am quite ready to wage a war with another god yet with such low manpower and followers.’

The Druid didn’t seem threatened. The branch-hands waved dismissively.

“So angry!” the Druid laughed, a sound like dry leaves crunching. “Why the hostility? None of your little pets died. In fact, I am the one who lost a Tower. My Colossus is soup. My minions are ash.”

The avatar leaned closer to the screen, the single leaf-hair twitching.

“You should be thanking me, really.”

“Thanking you?” Red scoffed. “For what? Wasting my coal?”

“For the test,” the Druid replied smoothly.

The stalk-face stopped moving. The voice lost its playful rasp and went dead serious.

“I needed to see how you solved a problem like that. A native god would have used a Wind Miracle. Or a Water Barrier. Or they would have just died.”

The Druid paused.

“But you? You built a thermal updraft using the Venturi effect. You understood thermodynamics.”

Red froze. His hand hovered over the ‘End Call’ button.

“That confirms it,” the Druid whispered. “100%.”

“You are from Earth.”

The silence in the Void was deafening. Red’s heart—or what was left of it—hammered against his ribs.

‘He knows!’

Red kept his face blank although it was just a question mark. He forced a confused frown.

“Earth?” Red asked flatly. “Is that some kind of dirt type? I’m the God of the Spiral. I don’t know your obscure gardening terms.”

The Druid stared at him for a long moment. Then, the branch-hands clapped slowly.

“Playing dumb. Classic Human move.”

“Whatever,” Red reached for the button. “Stay off my lawn.”

Click.

[ CALL ENDED ]

Red stared at the black screen. The hardtack in his hand suddenly tasted like ash.

“He knows physics,” Red whispered to the empty Void. “And he knows I know physics.”

He looked at the map. The neighbor wasn’t just a threat. He was a Player.

‘But… this is not a game… right? I was summoned here…’

The Void was usually cold, but now it felt suffocating.

Red sat on the invisible floor, the half-eaten Mana-Hardtack forgotten in his hand.

“Earth,” he whispered.

For weeks, he had buried his past. He was Red, the God of the Spiral. He was the CEO of a monstrous little startup in a swamp. He had pushed Red, the bullied kid who was summoned against his will, into the back of his mind.

But the Rotting Druid had just ripped that scab open.

“He tested me,” Red thought, pacing the empty blackness. “He didn’t check my Divine Power. He checked my knowledge. He checked if I knew what a Venturi tube was.”

He recalled Gorr’s voice from their first trade deal. ‘The Soul Density Rule… or “Levels” as the gaming generation calls it.’

At the time, Red thought the [ SYSTEM ] was translating her divine language into concepts he could understand. A user interface feature.

“But what if it wasn’t a translation?” Red stopped pacing. “What if she just… said it?”

During their call he didn’t pay much attention to it as it was also a regular and normal phrase Red used to hear back on earth and his mind just skimmed past it. But now it was coming together.

If Gorr was a gamer. If the Druid knew physics. That meant they were from Earth.

“Are we all players?” Red looked at the endless dark horizon. “Is this a server? Army followers just code?”

He shook his head violently.

‘No.’

The pain was too real. The smell of the swamp, the taste of the coal dust on Gorak’s skin, the fear in the Kobolds’ eyes. If this was a game, it was sick.

And if the Druid and Gorr were players… where were the others? Where were the classmates who had tormented him? The “Heroes” who were summoned alongside him?

He tried to pinch the map, to zoom out past the Swamp and the Mountains.

[ SYSTEM ALERT ] [ REGION LOCKED: FOG OF WAR ] [ EXPLORE TO UNLOCK ]

“Useless,” Red hissed.

He needed answers. But he couldn’t ask the System. And he certainly wasn’t going to call the Druid back.

That left Gorr.

“She helped me,” Red reasoned. “But she’s Rank 4. She’s smart. If I ask ‘Are you from Earth?’, I give up my leverage. I look like a confused noob.”

He needed to be subtle. He needed to sound like a boredom-stricken god making conversation, not a panicked boy looking for a teacher.

He composed himself. He fixed his spectral collar, and tapped the obsidian slab.

[ OUTGOING CALL: GORR (RANK 4) ]

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep