His initial feeling upon waking up was a sparkle in his eyes.
When Tatsuya opened his eyes, light stabbed through them. The scent of grass filled his nose, and for a moment, he thought he was still dreaming.
"Where… am I?" he whispered. A blue sky stretched endlessly above — not the ceiling of his classroom, not anywhere he knew.
He tried to get his thoughts together, but he couldn't think clearly; it felt like his conscious self was separate and outside of his physical body.
This is what people call an out-of-body experience, right?
A soft, cold breeze from the air made his consciousness clear, like the air guided his thoughts into his head.
I am outside; how? Just a minute ago, I was in school.
He tried to sit up, but his body felt numb. He did feel a sensation in his fingers and wrists, but he couldn't properly move his body.
It was almost like he gained a new one.
A voice called out:
"—XXX—XXXX—"
Tatsuya blinked, straining to understand. Not Japanese… maybe Norwegian? Swedish? He wasn't sure.
Summoning the last of his strength, he pushed himself up and turned toward the sound. A figure sat on a tree trunk, a small campfire flickering before him. Knight armor gleamed under the sun, an intimidating aura radiating from him.
Why is he cosplaying a knight? Is this Comic-Con?
He hesitated, then called out, "Hey… I'm lost. Do you know where we are?"
The knight tilted his head, replying in that same strange language. Then he beckoned. The gesture was simple, but it felt like a command.
Each step Tatsuya took toward him made his stomach twist tighter. His body screamed at him to run. What if this man caused all of this? What if the campfire, the sky—his body—were all part of some trick?
He'd never been good with people. Never knew what to say or how to act. But what choice did he have?
When he reached the campfire, the knight pulled a book from his bag—ornate, weathered, almost sacred. Opening it revealed a map that looked nothing like Earth.
Tatsuya's heart sank.
He squinted at the markings. Twisted letters. Unfamiliar shapes. His head throbbed from trying to make sense of them.
"I… I don't understand any of this," he muttered, frustration creeping into his voice. "How am I supposed to read it?"
Then he froze.
There—between the lines of alien symbols—was Japanese.
It read:
"You who can understand the things written in this book. This is your guide, your life. Keep it with you at all times. I'll find you, my son."
His hands trembled. Who wrote that? And why is it in japanese?
He turned the page and found what looked like a language guide. The title read: East Continent — The Language of Deity.
He hesitated, then tried reading one of the phrases aloud, carefully mimicking the symbols.
"I… need back home. Japan. Asia continent," he said awkwardly.
The knight studied him closely, then spoke again—this time slower, more deliberate.
"I was called to train you."
Tatsuya froze. Train him? The words weren't an offer; they sounded like a command. Like his future had already been decided.
He shook his head. "Home," he said quietly.
The knight's gaze softened, but his words hit like a blade.
"Your home is gone."
Tatsuya's blood ran cold. He didn't cry or panic. The calm certainty in the man's voice was worse than any outburst—it erased everything with a single breath.
For a long moment, neither spoke. Then the knight removed his helmet, revealing a man with sharp, weathered features.
"I am Paul," he said simply.
Tatsuya fumbled with the book, flipping through pages just to keep his hands busy.
"Fukushū Tatsuya… nice to meet you," he murmured.
Paul pointed at the map. "We are on the East Continent, in the Speed Dragon Mountains, within the country of Montisora."
His tone was too sure. Too final. As if he'd already decided where Tatsuya belonged.
"But… I'm from Japan."
"There is no Japan here," Paul replied, certainty radiating from him.
Tatsuya's stomach dropped. Every familiar thing—every comfort, every memory—felt suddenly unreachable.
part 2
"Grhhhaaaaa!!!"
The roar split the air like thunder.
A towering beast emerged from behind the ridge — scales white as divine fire, eyes burning molten gold. The ground trembled beneath its weight. Heat rippled through the clearing as its wings unfurled, blotting out the sun.
Tatsuya couldn't breathe.
His body refused to move, every instinct screaming to run.
What is that? Where am I? That thing's going to kill us—!
"Stay back, Tatsuya!" Paul's voice cut through the chaos.
But Tatsuya was frozen, staring up at the creature as if the world itself had shattered around him. His mind spun, searching for logic — a movie? a dream? a prank? Nothing made sense.
Paul stepped forward, unsheathing his sword in one fluid motion. The metal caught the light, gleaming with quiet authority. He lowered his stance, murmuring words Tatsuya didn't understand.
"With the speed of lightning's sacred grace, guide my journey, quicken my pace.
In this moment, blessed and pure, I seek Your light—my heart secure.
Velocity Surge!"
Mana — or something that felt like it — crackled in the air. The ground around Paul fractured.
Then he was gone.
A thunderclap followed a heartbeat later.
The knight reappeared in front of the dragon, blade descending in a single, perfect arc. The impact never came — only silence. Then the dragon's neck parted cleanly, its head falling in slow, dreadful motion before crashing into the earth.
Tatsuya blinked once.
Twice.
Paul landed softly, sword already sheathed.
The world stood still.
"That's… magic?" Tatsuya whispered, the words trembling from his throat. He looked around wildly — the trees, the sky, the dirt beneath his feet — all ordinary. But nothing felt ordinary anymore.
Magic wasn't supposed to be real. Dragons weren't supposed to exist.
Yet he had seen both.
"This… this can't be real." He pinched his arm, hard. Pain flared. No change. "No way."
His heart pounded like it was trying to break free from his chest.
The truth pressed down on him like a weight:
This wasn't Earth. This wasn't a set or a dream.
"This is…" he whispered, eyes wide with disbelief, "…another world."
He stared down at his hands, half-expecting them to glow, to do something.
"Magic. Monsters. Another world…" The words came out broken, uneven — somewhere between awe and fear.
For the first time since waking, his mind went completely still.
He was alive.
But not home.
part 3
"I'm… still alive."
The words left his lips before he even realized he'd spoken them.
The truth hit him like a wave of ice — sharp, suffocating.
He hadn't cared about tomorrow. He hadn't cared about anything.
He'd wanted to die.
He remembered the quiet—the moment before it all went dark. The relief he'd felt, thinking it would finally be over. The noise, the pain, the faces that sneered at him day after day… all fading away.
But it hadn't ended.
Tatsuya's shoulders trembled. His hands wouldn't stop shaking. He'd escaped that endless cycle of bullying, of loneliness… or so he thought.
Why couldn't I just die?
The thought cut deeper than any blade. The universe hadn't given him mercy—it had mocked him. Dragged him into this impossible place, where even death refused to let him go.
"This isn't what I wanted," he muttered, voice cracking. He gripped his hair, fingers digging into his scalp. "Why… why am I here?"
Images flashed in his mind — the knight, the magic, the dragon's severed head.
Things that shouldn't exist. Things that made reality itself feel like a lie.
For most people, waking up in a world like this would be a dream come true.
For him, it was hell with a prettier sky.
"I didn't ask for this," he whispered. His knees buckled, dropping him to the cold earth. A hollow laugh escaped him, thin and broken.
He looked up. The sky above was too bright, too blue — mocking him with its beauty.
I should have been gone by now.
The forest swayed around him, alive with sounds he couldn't feel.
Birdsong, wind, the crackle of the dying campfire — all of it blurred into a distant hum.
Tatsuya buried his face in his hands. His body shook, though no tears came.
"Why couldn't it have ended back there…?" he whispered into his palms.
"Why did I have to wake up… here?"
The world didn't answer. Only the rustling of leaves, and the sound of his own unsteady breathing.
"The words part of dying wasn't the end…"
Tatsuya stared at the ground, his eyes tracing the cracks in the dry earth beneath him. His heart felt heavier with each passing second, as if a part of him had been severed and left behind in a place he could never reach.
Footsteps approached, breaking the stillness. Tatsuya didn't have to look up to know who it was.
It was Paul.
He removed his helmet.
His face bore the quiet intensity of a seasoned knight—sharp, defined features tempered by a subtle gentleness in his steel-blue eyes. Walnut-brown hair framed his angular jaw, falling in just the right amount of disarray to hint at both charm and weariness. His beard was short and well kept, yet rugged enough to betray long days on the road and nights spent beneath the stars.
The man's presence alone filled the empty space around them, commanding and steady—like a mountain looming in the distance.
He knelt on one knee, leveling himself with Tatsuya.
"Young Tatsuya, I am sorry if I startled you with my sword art."
Paul's voice was calm, almost apologetic, but it didn't reach Tatsuya's heart.
The sight of that sword art had been something beyond comprehension. Even now, Tatsuya wasn't sure if what he'd seen was extraordinary—or simply how things worked in this strange world.
Were powers like that common here? Was everyone capable of cutting through life as if it meant nothing?
"Well," Paul continued, "you are the one spoken of in prophecy. So I will take you under my protection, and teach you swordsmanship until you are ready to go on your own."
What can I even say to something like that?
No, I don't care? The words rose in his throat, but he swallowed them.
I'll make it on my own? Even he knew how foolish that would sound.
The truth was, he was terrified—of Paul, of this world.
He raised his eyes to meet Paul's gaze. There was something calm in the older man's body language, something reassuring in the way he waited—as if he already knew what Tatsuya would decide, and was giving him the space to accept it.
Tatsuya exhaled, his breath shaky but resolute.
"All right," he whispered, barely louder than the wind that passed between them. "I accept."
But as the words left his mouth, the burden in his chest didn't lighten.
If anything, it deepened, wrapping around his heart like chains.
He had made a choice, but what that meant… he wasn't ready to face.
Not yet.
part 4
Paul took Tatsuya high into the Speed Dragon Mountains.
Apparently, they were called that because they were the fastest creatures on the planet.
But the name just sounded childish to him—like a joke that stopped being funny the moment his life turned into this.
They arrived at a small, rustic dwelling built into the side of a rocky cliff. The structure was part cave, part house, with a domed roof and two simple windows framing a weathered door. A large, faded cross was painted on the exterior wall, its blessing long since worn away.
The place was small, but it had everything needed to survive:
a crooked bench, a stove that hadn't been used in years, and one bed.
Just one.
It was the kind of detail that shouldn't matter, but somehow made the place feel even emptier—as if there was never meant to be more than one person here at all.
Tatsuya noticed, of course, but before he could fumble with his translation book, Paul said,
"The bed is yours; don't worry. I'll sleep under the stars tonight."
It was generous—maybe even kind—but to Tatsuya, it only twisted the knife.
Why did it feel like he was stealing warmth from someone who deserved it more?
The bed creaked as he lay down. It wasn't terrible, but comfort didn't matter.
You couldn't relax into something when the rest of your life had collapsed around you.
Tatsuya closed his eyes, thinking back on everything that had happened.
Sleep refused to come. His thoughts pressed against the inside of his skull, reminding him of what he'd lost—and where he was.
He turned his head toward the small window.
A bright star shone through the glass.
He got up, opened the window for air—for relief—but what greeted him wasn't beautiful.
Two moons hung above the horizon, pale and distant. Their glow stretched across the mountains like watchful eyes, unblinking, uncaring. Any other boy might have called it breathtaking.
To Tatsuya, it was just a reminder: there was no going back.
"I really am in a fantasy world," he said softly, the words hollow even to his own ears.
"I should go to sleep."
Two moons.
A fantasy world.
A knight who'd killed a dragon like swatting a fly.
It should've been every boy's dream.
But for Tatsuya, it was just another nightmare he couldn't wake up from.
He pulled the blanket over his head like a coward hiding from shadows.
And so, Tatsuya Fukushū's first day in another world ended—not with wonder, but with the heavy certainty that tomorrow would be no better.
Because he understood:
the worst part of dying wasn't the end.
It was waking up again.