**Chapter One: The Roaring River**
"Where am I?! The last thing I remember is heading home from the market, and suddenly I found myself here!" Mohammed was in shock, unsure what to do except scan his surroundings and search for a solution. Before him stretched a vast plain, covered in grass that grew taller the farther he looked, as if it had no end. Behind him raged an intensely powerful river, roaring with unbearable noise. When he saw it, he thought: *"Strange... I can't see its bottom or the other side!"* He only realized it was a river, not a sea, because its waves moved in a different direction than ocean tides. The river's force was so violent that anything falling into it seemed to shatter instantly. Stranger still, the ground beneath it looked split into two disconnected pieces, as though the river floated independently, untouched by the earth.
When Mohammed glanced down, he noticed his clothes had changed from what he remembered, and all his purchases were gone. His new attire was sturdier, as if designed for harsh environments—military-like gear he'd never worn before. "Wait, it says *HX-87* here! What does that mean? I'm not a soldier; I'm a university student!" He tried to calm himself: "No use dwelling on this now. Let's focus on surviving!"
Mohammed pondered: "What dangers lurk in plains like these? Usually snakes, wolves, lions... but who knows here? This place feels alien." The meadow stretched endlessly, the grass thickening and towering until it became an impenetrable wall. "Anything could be hiding there," he muttered, recalling documentaries: "Predators rarely attack outright; they ambush." He decided to avoid the tall grass and hunt weaker prey using a rock he'd found. "This is my only weapon now."
He walked cautiously along the riverbank, scanning the grass. By day's end, he'd found nothing—no animals, predators, or even traces of humans. "Is this place abandoned? Or do creatures avoid the river?" No answers came. Hunger gnawed at him, but with nightfall approaching, he dared not venture deeper into the plain. "No wood to light a fire!" All he had were dry, dead grasses, and no lighter. "Water's more urgent than food. At least the river's here..." He glanced at the terrifying torrent, sweating. "What's the worst that could happen?"
...Mohammed edged toward the river, trembling with fear but desperate for water. He eyed his sturdy military shirt but hesitated: *"If I dip it, the waves might drag it away... I'll lose my only defense against the cold!"*
Spotting windblown dry grass nearby, he gathered a bundle. He tried weaving it into cloth, but the brittle strands snapped. *"Let's test the water's strength instead,"* he thought. *"If I hold tight, maybe the grass will absorb some moisture. Better than nothing!"*
The moment the grass touched the river, the waves lunged like a starving beast, yanking it with terrifying force. Mohammed lurched forward, nearly falling into the watery grinder, but let go just in time. He collapsed backward, hands shaking, as the grass vanished into the churn. "You damned river! What do you want from me?!" he roared, breath ragged. Staring at his trembling hands, he realized death had been centimeters away. "No... I can't give up like this..."
As night fell, he tried building a bed from dry grass, but the wind scattered it. "At least I'll use some as a blanket!" He layered some beneath him and huddled in his clothes. Though exhausted, the cold and the river's roar kept him awake half the night, his sleep fitful.
At dawn, Mohammed awoke drained. A full day without food or water left his body shaking. He stared at the roaring river, then at the endless grass, and whispered hoarsely: "How will I survive this cursed world?"