The Continental Unified Gallery

Every now and then in life, you run into situations that completely defy expectations.

Most of the time, people manage to overcome these hiccups with quick wit or past experience. But what if you were thrown into something that went far, far beyond anything experience could prepare you for? What are you supposed to do then?

What else? You scramble for a way out by any means necessary.

"Holy shit. What is this?"

A foul curse tumbled from my lips the moment I took in the scenery. Given my circumstances, nobody could blame me.

Ahead of me was forest. Behind me was forest. To my right and left, nothing but forest. Everywhere I turned, dense, suffocating woodland stretched into the horizon. Towering trees stood so tall and thick that they practically blotted out the sun.

Where was I, and why the hell was I here? My brain utterly failed to process the situation.

"Gah! Jesus Christ!"

Just as my mind was turning into mush, a bizarre message floated into view, hovering in midair like an ethereal blue hologram. Before I could even recover from the shock, the text shifted into an entirely different interface.

It was chaos incarnate.

Did I drink too much last night? The moment I opened my eyes, I was seeing hallucinations. Yet no matter how many times I rubbed my eyes, the window floating in thin air refused to vanish. It was enough to drive a man insane.

"Am I... dreaming right now?"

I couldn't make heads or tails of what was happening. As if under a spell, I lifted a trembling finger toward the screen. Could I actually interact with this thing? The layout looked strikingly similar to the online imageboards and forums I used to browse back home.

I aimed for the post boasting the highest ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠comment count amid the chaotic mess.

"...?"

All it left me with was an even deeper sense of bewilderment. If I'd known it would vanish, I would've clicked faster. Still, that error message made me realize one crucial thing: the interface was responsive. Folding my arms, I began to flick through the gallery.

I was never a hardcore forum dweller, but I'd lurked enough times when searching for game guides or troubleshooting tips. Even though it hovered before me as an intangible hologram, operating it was intuitive. A subtle gesture of my hand or a flicker of my gaze was enough to navigate wherever I wanted.

Opening the thread with the fewest comments yielded only a single terse line of text and an equally brief reply. It wasn't nearly enough to gauge what was going on. More importantly, I needed to confirm whether my immediate surroundings were safe before getting lost in internet browsing.

I don't know what kind of freak accident landed me here, but I'd better stay on guard.

In a primeval wilderness like this, there was no ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠telling what might burst out of the foliage. If a bear or some predatory beast crossed my path right now, I was dead meat. Fortunately, sparse rays of sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, allowing me to see a few paces ahead. I pushed forward on cautious feet.

"Hm?"

Something caught my eye near the base of a tree. Thick brush and gnnarled roots shielded it from view, yet they couldn't conceal its faint, ethereal glimmer. Needing a place to conceal myself anyway, I crept forward and settled into the gap between the massive roots.

Well, look at you. What an odd little thing.

At first glance, it appeared to be an ordinary wild weed, but its delicate petals curved into the distinct shape of a crescent moon. Stranger still, despite resting in perpetual shade where sunlight couldn't reach, it softly radiated silver luminescence like a crescent moon hanging in the midnight sky. It was mesmerizingly beautiful.

And as a rule of thumb, the prettier a wild plant is, the deadlier its venom.

Naturally, I kept my hands to myself. Touching random plants in an unknown jungle was a cardinal sin of survival. If you don't recognize it, don't eat it—especially mushrooms. If push comes to shove, you're better off chewing on bugs and grubs than gambling on an unfamiliar plant. While I desperately hoped things wouldn't deteriorate to that point, my current predicament demanded preparing for the worst.

Come to think of it, does this board have rules?

I glanced upward and opened the Gallery again. To my surprise, simply willing it in my head made the interface materialize. Right at the top of the feed sat a pinned announcement.

That orange handle signified the board administrator—a Juddak, as forum regulars used to call them. The rules seemed straightforward enough; so long as I didn't cross any major lines, there was no reason to get banned.

Browsing through the manual tabs, the interface proved surprisingly slick and packed with convenient features. Users could capture photographs and video clips directly through their vision to embed in posts. More astonishingly, peer-to-peer bartering was fully supported.

Direct trading outside the auction house, however, was restricted to registered Fixed Nicks to deter black-market fraud. Furthermore, to prevent off-site collusion and unwanted clique-building, active trade communication between parties was capped at a strict three-minute window.

Direct item trading is possible?

That single feature overshadowed everything else. Right now, I was stranded in the middle of nowhere without a clue where I was. Currency meant nothing; physical survival supplies were paramount. I didn't even know where my next meal would come from.

Weapons to defend myself, fire-starting gear, potable water... the list of necessities was endless. The problem was that trade was fundamentally transactional. When you possessed nothing of value, you had zero leverage.

After wrestling with options, I registered a handle. Before attempting any trades, my first order of business was identifying this godforsaken location.

I attached a snapshot of the surrounding thicket and uploaded the thread. By now, I had deduced that this was an entirely different ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠world. The real question was where in this world I had landed. I didn't have the luxury to ponder how I got translocated here in the first place.

Staying alive came first. If you're dead, finding answers won't do you any good.

Right. A barrage of utterly useless noise. Unhelpful bastards.

Still, their mocking replies pointed out an obvious flaw: uploading a nondescript photo of generic greenery was undeniably idiotic. No one could pinpoint a location from tree bark alone. Grateful at least that people were actually responding, I penned a follow-up inquiry.

"..."

Could someone please post a normal, helpful comment for once?

For a fleeting second, I had hoped the fixed handle named Let's Grow Trees would provide actual geographic information, but that fell flat. Their entire premise was absurd: All forests are Alfheim. Alfheim is elven sovereign territory. Therefore, all forests belong to elves.

What is this, fantasy imperialism?

Weren't elves supposed to be gentle guardians of nature? Putting aside the startling fact that fantasy races actually existed here, their geopolitical mindset was unhinged. One thing was certain: getting entangled with their kind would only invite disaster. I steered the conversation in a different direction.

The dwarf woke up and chose pure hostility.

Granted, my hangover made my skull feel as if it had indeed met a sledgehammer, but nobody had physically cracked my head open.

Was it really my fault? I went to sleep in my room and woke up in an alien fantasy wilderness; what was I supposed to do about that?

Despite his grumbling, Passing Dwarf reluctantly laid out details regarding the Forest of the Four Seasons. It was regarded as the single most perilous territory on the entire continent. True to its name, spring, summer, autumn, and winter existed simultaneously within its borders.

At first, the description sounded nonsensical, but the horrific reality soon sank in.

Individual zones locked into perpetual, differing seasons? What kind of twisted ecology is that?

It didn't stop there. Due to hyper-dense atmospheric mana, the region swarmed with apex predators and mutated monsters. Even worse, the forest scrambled all sense of orientation, ensuring that anyone who stepped foot inside could never trace their steps back out. As a result, continental nations frequently banished condemned felons into its depths as an execution sentence. Not a single soul had ever emerged alive.

"Haah..."

A heavy, suffocating sigh dragged from my chest. I silently prayed with every fiber of my being that this wasn't the Forest of the Four Seasons. If it truly was... I'd cross that bridge when I reached it. If the forest was abundant in supernatural herbs, perhaps I could leverage them to stay alive.

Finding a way home was a concern for later, assuming I survived long enough to escape. Sulking in the dirt wouldn't change a thing.

In that case...

I shifted my gaze downward, peering between my boots toward the shadowed hollow of the tree trunk. The peculiar little plant rested there, shimmering with crescent-shaped petals. Could this innocuous weed actually be one of those supernatural herbs the dwarf mentioned?

Since I knew nothing about this world's flora, consulting the Gallery was my best bet. Online forums had always been my go-to for crowdsourcing answers back home, and a continental network should be no different.

Barely three seconds elapsed after I published the post.

A registered user sporting the dramatic handle Heavenly Demon replied instantly. The Heavenly Demon? Wasn't that some legendary cult leader title straight out of Eastern wuxia novels?

Suspicious, I immediately pulled up their user profile. If they were just some roleplaying lunatic, I had zero intention of entertaining their trade offer.

Their activity feed was overflowing with pretentious philosophical musings and vague status updates. Worse, hardly anyone even commented on them.

What's their deal? Dedicated roleplayer?

Talking like an ancient martial emperor while shitposting on a digital community board felt hilariously contradictory. Still, it didn't hurt to check my thread's reaction first. When I returned to the comments, my jaw dropped.

"..."

Good grief. What on earth did I stumble upon?

In the brief window it took me to glance over the Heavenly Demon's profile, the comment section had utterly erupted. Even Passing Dwarf, who had been telling me to die eating poisonous mushrooms seconds ago, was suddenly addressing me with utmost deference. Was this tiny glowing weed really that monumental?

The Heavenly Demon's initial post had been completely drowned out by the ensuing avalanche. Every time they tried to reassert their presence, other commenters ruthlessly trampled them underfoot.

Because peer-to-peer bartering was supported, astronomical sums of currency were being tossed around in the replies. However, since I had no baseline for continental economics, raw coin felt practically useless. Only one principle mattered right now.

I should trade with whoever needs it the most.

Amid the clamoring crowd, one user stubbornly kept fighting to be heard: the Heavenly Demon. Judging by the sheer desperation and frantic speed of their replies, they genuinely seemed cornered. Seeing them struggle tugged at my conscience.

Looking at their post history about heavy bodies... are they gravely ill?

The user named Starlight Princess also seemed to suffer from some chronic malady, but she had already bowed out, mentioning that this particular herb possessed the wrong medicinal properties. Weighing my options, I settled on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Heavenly Demon.

Direct trade requests were already piling into my notification feed like an overflowing inbox, but I bypassed them all and sent an invitation straight to the Heavenly Demon. To be the first to find an item only to watch others snarl and snatch it away—that was a bitter, sickening feeling I knew all too well.

The moderation here wielded immense authority. Or perhaps they were just fanatically vigilant against fraud and off-platform collusion. Either way, I had nothing to hide, so I confirmed the prompt without hesitation. What I needed right now were bare essentials for survival.

I wonder what they'll offer in return?

A quiet thrill of anticipation fluttered in my chest.