The First Civilization

Volume 1: The First Civilization

Chapter 1

Pain. It was the first thing Aren felt.

A dull ache spread through his body as if he’d fallen from a great height. His head throbbed with every heartbeat, and even opening his eyes took more effort than he expected. A faint smell of smoke filled the air.

He slowly blinked. The ceiling above him was made of rough branches tied together with vines, small gaps letting thin rays of sunlight dance across the walls of a tiny wooden hut.

"...Where am I?" His voice was barely louder than a whisper. No one answered.

Aren pushed himself into a sitting position, then froze. This wasn’t a hospital. It wasn’t his bedroom. In fact, he couldn’t remember what his bedroom looked like.

His breathing turned uneven. He closed his eyes and searched his memories. Nothing. An empty silence greeted him — no family, no home, no faces. Only one thing remained.

Aren.

That name echoed clearly in his mind. Was it his name? He wasn’t sure.

Before he could think further, the wooden door creaked open. An elderly man entered, carrying a clay bowl filled with steaming broth. The old man’s weathered face softened when he saw Aren awake.

"You’ve opened your eyes."

Aren stared at him. "Who... are you?"

The old man stopped walking. For a brief moment, confusion flashed across his face. "You don’t remember me?"

Aren slowly shook his head. "I don’t remember... anything."

Silence filled the room. The old man sighed before setting the bowl beside the bed. "You collapsed near the river three days ago. We thought your soul had already left your body."

Three days. Aren looked down at his hands, covered in small cuts and bruises. They felt familiar, yet strangely unfamiliar at the same time.

The old man handed him the bowl. "Drink."

Without thinking, Aren accepted it. The warm broth eased the emptiness in his stomach — it tasted plain, but he realized just how hungry he was.

"What is this place?" Aren finally asked.

"Our village."

"And... where is this village?"

The old man frowned. "What a strange question."

Before Aren could ask again — a loud horn echoed outside. One long blast. Then another.

The old man’s expression changed instantly. He grabbed the wooden spear leaning against the wall. "The hunters have returned." He listened more carefully, and his face turned pale. "No... that’s the warning horn."

Shouts erupted outside.

"Close the gates!"

"Everyone inside!"

"The Grayfangs are back!"

The old man rushed out without another word. Aren hesitated, but curiosity pulled him toward the doorway. The moment he stepped outside, his entire body froze.

A small settlement stretched before him. Dozens of wooden huts stood around a large fire. Men armed with crude stone spears ran toward a tall wooden fence surrounding the village. Women hurried children into the nearest shelters.

Beyond the fence, a dark forest stood silent. Then a pair of glowing yellow eyes appeared between the trees. Another. Then another. Soon dozens of eyes stared silently toward the village.

Aren swallowed hard. He didn’t know who he was. He didn’t know where he was. But one thing became painfully clear.

This world wanted him dead.

At that exact moment, a cold voice echoed inside his mind.

[Civilization System Activated.]

Host Confirmed.

Memory Synchronization: 1%

Objective: Survive.

Aren’s eyes widened. "...What?"

The voice disappeared, as if it had never existed. Only the glowing eyes beyond the fence remained. Watching. Waiting.

End of Chapter 1