Note: I am posting / publishing “The Chronicles of Metem” on Substack under the pseudonym “Studio Dungeon” to get more discovery. Substack would be updating the chapters a month in advance before Royal Road.
Many have pondered: What sound does a tree make when it falls in the forest with no one to hear? A question, both absurd and profound, has teased young and old minds' curiosity. But turn the lens outward—what of the vast, open field embraced by a thick, verdant forest?
Does the field, with its large expanse, feel a pang of envy? Envious of the forest's symphony—the rustling leaves, the chatter of creatures, and the rich, vibrant chorus of life teeming in its depths? Or does the field revel in its solitude, grateful for the unobstructed skies above?
Under the sun's golden watch, the field is a canvas for sky's blues and whites, a gallery of ever-changing clouds that drift and dissolve. When night descends, it becomes an observatory, its open arms cradling the rivers of stars flowing across the cosmic sea.
Perhaps the field feels neither jealousy nor gratitude but something simpler—peace. A quiet pride in being what it is: an open heart in nature's embrace, where life pauses, breathes, and looks upward in awe. Where the black meets the green, and countless stars shone in silence.
The field, a sprawling expanse of soft grass, stood in stark contrast to the dense forest encircling it. Tall, ancient trees loomed like sentinels at night, their wide canopies harbouring life hidden beneath them and their tangled branches clawing at the sky. In the far distance, the jagged silhouettes of mountains broke the horizon, casting long shadows that danced with the wind's rhythm.
The cool night air was alive with the forest's whispers—a symphony of rustling leaves, chirping crickets, distant howls, and calls of unknown creatures. Each breath carried the rich, earthy scent of pine and damp soil, a grounding anchor amidst the surreal serenity. The grass swayed gently, almost as if responding to the moon's quiet call. It was a scene of beauty and peace, but it would not last.
Without warning, a shift tore through the tranquillity. The cool night air held its breath as if the field anticipated the coming moment. Then, the transformation occurred as silently as a shadow crossing the moon.
Three thousand figures emerged instantly, their presence rewriting the landscape like ink spilled upon a pristine canvas. There was no flash of light, no thunderous roar—only an unsettling stillness as if the world had exhaled them into existence.
Minutes passed like hours. Slowly, life returned to the field. Eyes blinked open, squinting against the moonlight. There was a jump in temperature as bated breaths were slowly released. Fingers grazed the dewy grass as if testing the reality of their surroundings. Each face bore an expression of wonder and bewilderment. Their first sight was not of each other but of the vastness above—a celestial dome so perfect it demanded reverence. The way in which the stars lit up the dark, and the blue glitter of the moon, almost brought a tear to some of their eyes.
Voices hesitated, hushed at first, as though unwilling to disturb the sanctity of the moment. Then, the questions began. Fragmented murmurs grew into a rising chorus, spreading like wildfire across the field before the panic questions took over. "Where are we?" "What is this place?" "Why are we here?" "What's going on?" "Who are these people?" "Who am I?"
People were starting to feel increasingly uneasy as time passed, with no answers or indication of what was happening to them or who they were. Some tried to build the courage to wander the field into the surrounding forest, hoping to find the nearest signs of civilization. In contrast, others gathered together for answers and solutions.
It didn't take long before various people started regaining their memories of who they were and where they came from. In conversations, they started to agree on possible theories, such as being brought here for some sort of experiment, research project, or part of some elaborate prank or reality TV show. In contrast, others feared they had been kidnapped or isekai'd.
Based on the feeling the majority of people had, strangely enough, they felt comfortable with the theory of being kidnapped; this belief was further enforced by the quote on quote tell signs of all those who had no memory of who they were at the start, or where they were and how they got in the field, this was a clear sign of drugging in their minds.
However, five scientists stood out among the others in the field of scattered people. Naturally, persons gravitated closer to where they stood since they seemed to be the calmest in the area at the time, maybe they had answers from the confidence shown in their dialogue, as the voices of the group rose to a fever pitch, accented by hysterical laughter and shouting, more people started to surround them unknowingly. Their excitement was contagious, and the onlookers began sharing their joy. They were not sure why; their curiosity was piqued by how the five were reasoning things in their reality, questioning and checking their ideas against a steadily growing fact list. Maybe they will figure something out and have answers. Perhaps this group had discovered something, a clue to the mystery that had been haunting them all.
As the group's hysterical laughter continued to echo through the night occasionally, people in the crowd began to grow uneasy. Were these people losing their sanity? Or had they stumbled upon something truly terrifying? As the laughter died down, it became apparent that the people were familiar with one another among the group. The onlookers strained their ears among the murmuring voices of the crowd to hear their words, desperate for any clue as to what was happening.
"Did any of you see Doctor Strap anywhere around?" one of the scientists asked. What are the chances of us making a breakthrough and then being whisked off into the unknown? I'm assuming that those of you with a trained eye have noticed the constellation is no longer familiar; it's unrecognizable; there is no known North star or satellite in this sky to determine our bearings."
"It's pretty fascinating that we are not where we should be in space anymore," another replied. "The reason could be that the earth fell to some other orbit away from the sole-system we knew, we have spent years reaching out into the universe, and the day we felt something was the day we somehow …"
"Shhh," a third interrupted. "Be mindful of what you imply without solid evidence. We have an audience, and what you say could end up being the death of not just you but the rest of us standing here. We have no connection to, or information about why we've arrived here, but we need answers. It's evident that we got transported to somewhere different in space-time, but to where exactly, and is there any chance of getting back home? Let's at least try to identify some constellations, we've spent most of our lives looking at stars, so maybe we can figure out where we are. Any idea would be better than what the signs might be pointing to right now. Remember, there are no bad ideas, just unproven theories."
There was a few seconds of dead silence among the gathered crowd just before the next person began to speak. "What if the planet was the one that moved through time and not just us?"
"First off, did you waste brainpower to develop that dumbass theory?" one of the men scoffed. "Look around, a planet or not, we are not in the exact location we were in how many hours ago. No matter the cause, we are no longer in the same space in time that we were in a few minutes ago. Even the moon's surface and dimensions look different. Look at its almost blueish colour, as if there's water or ice on its surface."
"That's a good observation," another person chimed in. "Let's try our best to piece together information about the stars before the sun breaks over the horizon. Maybe we can learn about our location among the stars. When that's over we can figure out more about the environment."
As word spread throughout the massive crowd like wildfire, everyone heard the theory that they were no longer on Earth or in their sole system. For all they knew, they might not even be in their universe. And yes, I said theory because even though the experts knew, the majority were still in disbelief. The feelings among the people varied like the winds that crashed against the majestic trees around them.
It was clear to see that people were scared out of their minds, while others started to think that maybe they had been chosen and saved by God. Uncertainty hung heavy in the air as the group searched for answers, desperate to unravel the mystery of their new reality.
After some time talking with one another in the low light hours, it was normal for people to gravitate together. However, to prevent factions from taking root and developing an identity of their own, word began to spread among the people to form into groups of 100. If they manage to accomplish that, they should send one representative to the front to discuss their current situation and create a council that would work on understanding whats actually going on.
These representatives would also play a big part in establishing structured labour and order and a communication protocol, ensuring that all members receive important information while mediating and monitoring progress efforts in what ever areas they decide on handling things.
Officially, the council of 30 was formed, Having a good idea of the number of people who arrived to this so called planet was a good start. As the meeting began, naturally a loose circle was formed.
It was quiet at first while as they all looked nervously at the surrounding trees, at each other and the 30 groups around. Then the whispers started. “ Is this for real?” We can’t really be on another planet, right?” while others fight the urge to panic. Adrenaline and denial lingering in the air. In the dim light you could still see persons awkwardly scanning for something familiar, an airplane, a cell tower, even a road of some kind, anything that would let them know that Earth was still under their feet. But there was nothing. Just the rustle of strange leaves, in an unfamiliar breeze.
A man named Joe stepped forward among the 30 gathered. He suggested they first needed to establish food, shelter, and water. Judging the surroundings he voiced his opinion on this being a safe area to establish a base an settlement, but for the time being they should focus on assembling a team of willing people, preferably hunters and trackers, to explore the surrounding area for food and water. With there numbers it was best for them to get started without delay.
The other standing around were all silent, the only thing that could be heard and felt were their hard swallows, blinking eyes and their minds lost in deep thought.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
As the talks continued, Joe was now pacing in the middle of the circle.
Joe (voice echoing a bit in the stillness):
“Look, I’m not forcing anybody, but someone’s gotta step up. We can’t just stand around debating on what to do next without action, we will starve before we know it. Whoever’s willing to scout for food and water among us, let me know, if not we have to find some willing parties. The sooner the better, and preferably at early sunrise.”
(He folds his arms and glances around. A couple of reps shuffle uneasily. Others stare at him, uncertain.)
Hambone (a young man, hesitant):
“Yeah, okay… but if we find something—like fruit, maybe a stream—what then? How do we… how do we make sure it’s safe?”
Joe (a bit sharper):
“We’ll figure that out once we see what’s out there. Priority’s to locate any kind of resource. Shelter can wait till we know we’ve got water. Food’s secondary, but still important.”
Tara (a tall woman, crossing her arms):
“And who’s deciding all this—just you?”
(A few heads turn her way, relieved someone finally said it out loud.)
Joe (raising an eyebrow):
“Someone has to. You want to keep talking in circles all night or actually get something done? Look—no offence, but we’re all strangers here, and we need a plan. I’m stepping up because it looks like no one else will.”
Chanel (soft-spoken, stepping in):
“Look, Joe… we appreciate you trying to organize us, but we never agreed you’d be the one calling the shots. Weren’t we supposed to work as a council? Each of us was sent here to represent a hundred people back there, right?”
Joe:
“Sure, but the situation is life or death. If we don’t start delegating tasks, we’ll never survive. We can talk about structure when we’re not about to collapse from hunger.”
(Murmurs of uncertainty ripple through the group. A few nod, others frown.)
Aki (anxiously pushing up his cheek as if he wore glasses):
“I get it—everyone’s freaked out. It’s dark, we don’t even know if we’re on Earth… we need a plan, yes. But we can’t jump into a dictatorship. This is exactly how bad situations get worse.”
London (quiet but firm):
“Right. We had a council in mind for a reason. No single person should have the final say. If we allow that, it might solve our immediate problem but create bigger ones later.”
(Joe stiffens, sensing the pushback. He glances around, clearly frustrated.)
Joe (trying to keep his cool):
“Listen, I’m not trying to be a ‘dictator.’ Someone asked who’s deciding; I volunteered a plan. That’s all. Are we really gonna waste time voting on every single move when we’ve got 3,000 people to care for? I’m telling you—time’s not on our side.”
Tara (the tall woman from before, gestures around):
“Look at us. We barely know each other, and we’re all edgy. Maybe a single ruler is the wrong call, but we do need direction. What if… what if we pick a few people we trust to lead together? Share the power so we don’t end up with one person controlling everything.”
(A silence falls as that idea sinks in. Joe’s gaze flicks over the group, and he notices some thoughtful nods.)
Gemski:
“That might work. We already told our groups we’d come back with a plan—why not agree on multiple leaders, so we’re less likely to get screwed over by one person’s agenda?”
Jewel (a woman hugging herself for warmth):
“Exactly. We’re all from different backgrounds, different skill sets. A single person can’t manage all that. But a small team—like three or four—could gather input from everyone and make decisions faster than thirty voices in a shouting match.”
Joe (exhaling, trying not to sound annoyed):
“If that’s what it takes to move forward… fine. But can we at least set some ground rules so we can actually get stuff done? If we’re sending a scouting party, that has to happen soon.”
(Several heads bob in agreement. They need the scouting party, but they also want to define leadership now, before it’s too late.)
Aki (glancing around):
“Alright, so let’s put it to a quick vote: Do we stick with the idea of a small group of leaders, or do we let Joe call the shots alone? No offence, Joe.”
(A show of hands reveals that the vast majority prefer a council or a small team of leaders. Joe’s expression tightens but he doesn’t argue.)
Aki:
“Alright then. Who’s stepping up? We want people who know how to coordinate or at least have some relevant experience.”
(Joe straightens up; it’s obvious many see him as one of the leaders—he’s already shown initiative. Another pair of reps exchange glances, uncertain.)
Gemski (raising a hand):
“I still think we should keep it at three. Enough to break ties, enough to share responsibility. And each leader can specialize—someone good at strategic thinking, someone good at logistics, and so on.”
Vladimir (pointing at Joe):
“You’ve made your stance clear. You’re used to giving orders—it could help if things get chaotic out there. That might be a good thing, as long as you don’t try to steamroll us.”
(Joe gives a curt nod, acknowledging the mixture of praise and caution.)
Aki (looking around for more nominees):
“Anyone with scientific expertise? We’ll probably need someone who can figure out if the water or plants are safe… maybe a biology or chemistry background?”
After much deliberation and getting to know each other in this odd situation, the council nominees were chosen.
Aki:
“So that’s three potential leaders right there: Joe, Lady-Vee, Gemski. Each with different skills. Let’s put that to a quick vote among us thirty. Then we can finalize it.”
Joe Perez, tall and imposing.
Lady-Vee Walker, tall and lean.
Gemski Flores, tall and muscular.
Quick glances, mutters of agreement—everyone’s eager to settle this and move on to the survival tasks.)
Deedas:
“If the majority’s cool with it, that’s our tri-leadership. But remember—nobody’s above the rest of us. You three are leading, not ruling. Generals of the settlement. ”
Joe (softening a bit, looking around):
“I get it. Thanks for trusting me. Let’s be clear: I’m still pushing for that scouting team first thing in the morning. Anyone who’s up for it, come see me. Meanwhile, Lady-Vee, Gemski, and I will talk details on shelter, water purification, all that.”
(The thirty exchange uneasy nods. They’re still strangers, but at least they’ve found some structure—three leaders, each with a distinct role, all accountable to the rest.)
Aki (in a subdued tone):
“Alright, we have a plan—let’s make it work. The three of you can stand off to the side if you want and discuss some more the rest of us will plan with our groups and listen in on your conversation as we see fit.”
As the three chosen leaders stepped forward, each bore the weight of responsibility differently: Joe, the disciplined soldier, stood rigidly with his hands in his pockets; Lady Vee, adjusted her overcoat as if preparing to reveal something she shouldn’t; and Gemski, rubbed his calloused hands together, scanning the landscape with sharp, calculating eyes.
Joe cleared his throat, a hint of restless energy in his stance—the kind that comes from years of expecting danger around every corner. Despite the stern set of his jaw, his gaze flicked around the group with the practiced ease of a commander assessing potential soldiers.
Joe: “ Tell me when your tired of hearing me say this, but let’s not waste time. Our first priority is ensuring everyone has what they need to survive the night—food, water, and a safe place to sleep. The forest is most likely dangerous, but if we send a team in, armed and prepared, they might find something useful. Since none of us, or the council wants to go, volunteers will be essential. However, weapon or not, it might not make a difference, but somebody has to go, for the greater good.”
He turned his sharp gaze toward the council members he knew were listening, daring anyone to argue his suggestion. You could see the flicker of his old drill-instructor self beneath the surface—he almost wanted someone to challenge him, so he could shape them into a better survivor maybe encourage them to volunteer.
Lady Vee: “Agreed, Joe, but blindly rushing into unknown territory isn’t a sustainable plan. We need to take stock of our surroundings first. Sample the vegetation for edibility and potential dangers. I’d prefer not to lose more people than necessary to something preventable.”
Her voice was calm, yet edged with a certain fervour, reminiscent of someone who prized both logic and faith in equal measure. She folded her arms, each movement measured as if balancing an equation in her head.
She paused, glancing toward Gemski, who was scratching the dirt with a stick, sketching the outline of a crude tool.
Gemski: “I hear both of you, but we’re forgetting something—tools. If we’re going to gather resources or defend ourselves, we’ll need spears, axes, and knives. From the group I currently represent, there were a few engineers, tradesmen, and hobbyists among them. I’m sure I can get them started on crafting stone tools using whatever we find nearby. Grass for bindings, sticks for handles, stones for blades.”
His tone was matter-of-fact, but you could see a spark in his eye—the same spark a visionary entrepreneur might have when spotting a new market. Years of military service had made him pragmatic, yet his love of exploration pushed him to think bigger.
Joe nodded, though his expression remained stern.
Joe: “Good. While you work on tools, we’ll send out a small scouting team to the forest edge—just five people. They’ll be armed with sharpened sticks and instructed not to stray far. They’ll map out their route and report back within 8 hours minimum. No exceptions.”
There was the faintest hint of pride in Joe’s voice—he’d always believed in building others up, even if it meant throwing them into the deep end. The crowd murmurs grew louder. Joe raised a hand for silence, but Lady Vee spoke first.
Lady Vee: “Joe, you’re assuming the forest is our only option. There could be food or water sources closer than we think. If I could gather some capable people to analyze the soil and vegetation samples around here, we might find something useful without the risk.”
She kept her voice level, but there was a subtle tension in her posture—perhaps the frustration of a scientist who’d been forced to do field research in a place with no lab, no instruments, and precious little time to proceed methodically.
Joe: “And how long would that take? Do you see any labs or shovels out here? We don’t have technology out here. We need results now, Lady Vee, not after someone finishes writing a thesis on stone and bark on an alien planet. We need action.”
His abrupt phrasing betrayed a certain impatience and the shadow of someone used to snapping orders, but he also seemed to be pushing people so they wouldn’t become victims of inertia.
Gemski (interjecting, gesturing toward his dirt sketch): “Both of you have valid points, but let’s not waste time arguing. We can do both—send the team to scout while the rest of us focus on immediate needs. That’s hitting two birds with one stone. I’ll organize a group to start crafting tools. Meanwhile, Lady Vee, your team, if you can put one together, can analyze the vegetation with the collective group knowledge on Earthly things as a backup plan. We’ll split the tasks and work faster. If one fails maybe the other can succeed.”
His practical approach echoed the careful balancing act he’d learned both in uniform and in the boardroom—diversify your investments, hedge your bets, minimize risk.
The council still around murmured their agreement. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was a start. Joe gave a curt nod.
Joe: “Fine. But the scouting team takes no unnecessary risks if possible. Be sure to tell them to mark their path into the forest carefully. And if possible, not to engage with any life form they come across, common or uncommon. Little or big, just observe, keep a mental note, and report when they return. I would have liked to brief them personally on what’s expected, but from the way you handle yourself in conversation Gemski, I want you to handle the volunteers. I’m sure you ran your own special unit in the past being the military man you are, so this shouldn’t be difficult to do.”
There was a slight, almost paternal note in Joe’s last sentence—he relished the thought of training new recruits, shaping them into survivors. Yet beneath that paternal veneer lay a definite steeliness, a drive to maintain control over the settlement.
Lady Vee: “And like you said, I’ll coordinate the sampling efforts. We need to know what’s safe before anyone eats anything. It's probably not the wisest of moves right now, but I might need a few of these people to burn some serious energy.”
She exhaled, relieved that her call for caution had been heard. Her fingers twitched against the hem of her overcoat, the impulse of a scientist wanting to scribble notes or run tests on actual instruments.
Gemski: “Good. Let’s get moving. Every moment we waste puts us closer to danger. We need to make as much progress as possible while the sun is up.”
With that, the three leaders broke off to begin their tasks, dismissing the other council members that were still around. The weight of survival pressed heavily on their shoulders, but for now, the settlement had a direction, however fragile.
For a brief moment, Joe stood still, scanning the horizon with narrowed eyes. Lady Vee bowed her head as if in silent prayer, mentally balancing her faith with the evidence around her. Gemski took one last glance at his dirt sketches, the faint grin of an engineer whose next great project had just begun.
