"My apologies, I never properly introduced myself," the referee said, chuckling lightly. He continued, "I am Luthern Varn. You'll have to wait to know more than that. For now, just know—I'm at your service, Mr. Julian Volkov," he said, placing a hand on his chest and bowing slightly forward.
Oh, thank you for proving you're suspicious!
"Hahah, looks like you're looking for someone else. I hope you find them soon. Now, if you'll excuse me—" I braced myself to sprint out of this district. Ever since I got here, every nerve has been on edge. I could feel death itself lurking, waiting for its chance to strike.
"No, it is you," came Luthern's voice, suddenly behind my ear. A firm hand clamped down on my shoulder, heavy enough to freeze me in place.
"I hope you'll listen, Mr. Julian," he said, and I felt the grip on my shoulder slowly release. Then he added, "This place is far too dangerous for you. This may be your last chance at protection. Without it, I can't guarantee you'll live to see the dawn."
I turned toward him slowly, sweat dripping down my forehead. Danger, danger, danger—every one of you keeps warning me of it, yet I don't see any greater danger than you yourselves.
"What... what else do you know?" I asked, swallowing hard. Escape was futile, and I didn't think I could fight. I was completely defenceless.
A faint smile crossed his face at seeing that I was ready to talk. "Kufufufu, I'd prefer we continue this conversation elsewhere," he said, then waved his hand. The air rippled, like heat waves bending light, before coalescing into a distortion that shimmered without colour, like warped glass.
Magic. Real, actual magic!
"Follow me, please don't be afraid, you won't be harmed during the teleport." He lightly moved his staff and stepped through the portal.
Well, at this point, there doesn't seem to be any right choice. I stepped through.
A blink later, the portal swallowed me, and everything changed. As soon as my head passed through the portal, the scene changed completely. The empty street was gone; now I was in a cavern with a small opening, just big enough for one person at a time. I looked around. Trees and plants rustled in the wind, hissing softly. Even in the darkness of night, I could see birds hopping between branches. Did we... travel to a forest?
Surprisingly, there was no headache, no dizziness. Hopefully, no side effects such as radiation or something. Near the cave opening, Luthern stood with his right arm behind his back and his left holding his staff, which had a metallic grip and end. Without a word, he stepped lightly into the cave.
I didn't want to end up prey to some nocturnal creature, so I quickly followed him inside. The path sloped downward, and the air grew noticeably colder. The old man raised his hand slightly, igniting a flame in his palm to light the way. Fire magic—so simple spells don't require chanting, then.
The walls were stone, supported by wooden beams. The further we descended, the louder a strange clicking noise became. Metal striking metal? That, and the thudding heartbeat growing faster and louder.
A minute passed. Then three. Then five. Finally, the path levelled out, and I could see a faint light at the far end.
Luthern: "We're nearly there. I hope you're feeling alright."
This is psychological torture...
The clanging of metal became clearer, louder. Luthern extinguished the flame in his hand as we reached the end of the tunnel and stepped onto a fully wooden platform.
"This..." My voice trailed off as I stepped forward. Below us, hundreds of men worked in what could only be described as a subterranean forge. The red glow of fire and molten metal filled the vast cavern. Carts of iron moved along what looked like rail tracks. Simple wooden ladders were evenly spaced along the stone walls. What a massive cave!
Some of them noticed our presence but quickly ignored us and resumed work. On closer inspection, I saw they were forging armour, swords, and... what's that?
"Over here, Mr. Julian," said the old man, gesturing toward a corridor to our right that led to a glass door. We approached it slowly, and as we got closer, it opened by itself.
An automatic door! That exists here!?
I don't know if that's a normal thing in this world, or unique to this facility, or whether someone from my world is here, or maybe they coincidentally invented something similar?
We stepped through the door, and it turned out to be an elevator. Luthern pressed a button to his right, the floor beneath us lit up, and the door closed. In seconds, the rough stone walls gave way to polished white marble streaked with silver. The air cooled. Crystal sconces cast gentle light, flickering across spotless floors that mirrored the ceiling like still water. Ahead of us stretched a corridor about twenty meters long, ending in two staircases, one going up, the other down.
"Um... this might be a late question, but... where exactly are we going?" I asked, warily scanning my surroundings. The sudden transition from that noisy forge to this eerily quiet, palace-like place threw me off completely. All these shifts were messing with my nerves.
"You'll figure out soon enough," he said, his voice carrying a cheerful tone, more playful than polite now. It reminded me of my earlier exchange with that so-called 'Guide'. I had no idea what I was supposed to do anymore.
We ascended the stairs, heading upward. On the next floor, there were several rooms and branching hallways. The corridors seemed to stretch into infinity, yet at the same time, Luthern appeared to know the place well. His relaxed demeanour radiated confidence. I glanced out the window at the mountains sprawling across the horizon, with the moon reflecting off a massive waterfall nestled between two towering peaks. Beneath them lay the forest, perhaps the same one we had emerged from. The owner of this mansion must be wealthy. But why would someone so rich have a factory beneath their home? And do I have to be here?
I studied Luthern ahead of me. Compared to the common folk in the city I'd left that morning, his clothing wasn't expensive, nor was it cheap. Simply good and neat. In his black suit and white shirt, he looked like a servant of some kind.
After we turned right twice, we reached a wide corridor with a large, ornate door at its end. Its sight sent a chill down my spine, making the idea of jumping from one of the windows oddly tempting. But I held myself back, barely. Standing before the door, Old Luthern raised his hand and knocked three times before saying, "My lady, I have brought our awaited guest."
"You may enter," came a soft, cheerful voice from behind the door, a woman's voice, sounding slightly excited. Old Luthern opened the massive door with such ease that it seemed as light as cotton. Inside, the room radiated luxury.
Panels of dark mahogany embraced the walls from floor to ceiling, gleaming with flickering candlelight across their grain. Dark crimson velvet drapes flowed from the high windows, framing the moonlight that spilt over a Persian rug below. The room's warmth felt like a gilded cage; closer to a museum than an office.
A quiet tick echoed from an ornate brass clock above the fireplace, whose mantle was lined with marble figurines and a single framed miniature portrait, perhaps of a lover, or maybe of a life long gone.
A large folding-top desk dominated the room, its surface meticulously organised. Crystal inkwells sparkled beside gold-trimmed blotting paper. Stacks of neatly arranged papers, bound ledgers, and a single letter opener with a bone handle completed the setting. A fine porcelain teacup sat untouched on a silver saucer to one side, unbroken and placed exactly in the centre.
Behind the desk, shelves lined the wall, filled with thick-bound volumes, maps, and scrolls. One cabinet had a glass door, revealing a modest collection of antique weapons, daggers, and a slender duelling sword that gleamed ominously. Between the desk and shelves stood a high-backed leather chair with wooden armrests carved like a throne, but what truly caught my eye was not the chair, but the woman sitting in it.
A woman both ageless and precise—too young to be old, too composed to be youthful.
She looked like someone you'd expect to find painted on the walls of a long-forgotten palace, uncertain if she was myth or memory. Undeniably elegant—yet unsettling.
Scarlet hair fell in deliberate waves across her shoulders, gleaming in the candlelight. Her skin was pale, soft, yet vibrant, radiating with an almost moonlike glow through silk. Her lips were painted the colour of fresh blood, not too bright, just enough to keep your eyes drifting toward them.
But her eyes, her eyes were the most striking of all. Narrow and slanted like a cat's, yet wide with curiosity. A vivid silver-grey, tinged almost with violet.
Her outfit didn't help. A red dress with a high collar clung to her figure, made of velvet and lace—a mix of luxury and danger. The neckline dipped just enough to catch your attention, but not enough to seem improper. Every stitch, every fold, seemed... intentional, designed not just to attract, but to unsettle.
She rested her chin lightly on her intertwined fingers, elbows propped on the armrests. From afar, she could've passed for someone my age. Maybe younger. But something in her posture, her presence, radiated maturity. An unbelievable blend of youthful allure and hardened sharpness. It was like looking at a marble statue brought to life, and being handed a dagger.
"Welcome," she said with a slow smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I've been waiting for you, Julian Volkov."
And just like that, every shred of confidence I thought I had wilted. A faint heat crept up my cheeks, the blood rushing from my neck.
"Th—thank you," I stammered, turning my gaze to the right. God, were women this beautiful!
Old Luthern let out a low laugh before saying."Mr. Julian, allow me to introduce you to Lady Misha. We'll have our promised talk once your meeting is over. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some work to attend to," he said with a slight bow forward before turning and closing the door behind him as he left. What kind of 'work' happens this late at night?
An awkward silence filled the room; it felt like it lasted for hours, until the Lady finally spoke, drawing my attention.
"While I would have preferred your arrival to be better timed, having you here in one piece is good enough," she said with a tone that was cheerful, almost sarcastic. I slowly lifted my gaze to her, who sat behind the desk. It was hard to focus with those piercing eyes locked onto me.
"It seems Luthern did a good job keeping you safe. I hope he didn't scare you too much. Strange as his behaviour may be, his competence is beyond question."
Focus, Julian, focus! Remember why you're here!
I took a few steps toward the desk. The faint mix of perfume and ink hung in the air, an oddly pleasant combination. I shook my head slightly, trying to clear my thoughts, then slowly placed my bag on the floor, wiping my sweaty hands against my pants despite the cold night.
"Hello... Lady Misha. Thank you for having me. I, uh... I don't really know what's going on, to be honest. But if there's something you need from me—I'll listen." I tried to sound polite, which wasn't exactly my strong suit.
"Hehe~ no need to be so tense. Relax a little. As for your question..." Her smile faded, and she leaned her head into her clasped fingers, her gaze sharpening with focus. "We're aware of your situation, from the fact that you're not from this world, to what may be lurking after you here."
Yeah, I know that already. The real question is: How do you know?
"But don't worry, Cerberus will make sure to provide you protection," she added, her smile returning slowly, her tone reassuring.
"Cerberus? Protection?" The words were clear enough, but I needed a more precise explanation.
"An Organisation dedicated to protecting 'Strays'—people like you. You're in high demand everywhere, after all," she said, lightly motioning to me with her finger.
Stray? So that's what they call people like me.
"So... I'm not the only one?" I asked, trying to keep the relief out of my voice. The thought of someone else in my situation was far more comforting than being alone.
Misha: "Yes, as I said. You'll meet them soon; if you choose to join us, of course."
"Eh? Join you?"
"Well, you see... looking after people like you isn't exactly easy. So, in exchange for protection, we'll need you to carry out a few tasks for us. They'll be simple enough for someone of your kind. You might even do them alongside others from your world," she said, leaning back into her chair, resting her hands on the armrests.
The offer sounded almost too good. Protection in exchange for... what, exactly? I didn't trust the safety of this 'task', but I trusted the streets less.
"Of course, I'll explain everything in more detail later. I'll wait for your decision. Until then, you're welcome to stay here tonight. Don't worry, no one will harm you under this roof. Not without my permission," she said gently. But something in her tone, almost playful, sent a chill down my spine.
The door opened just then, and a man and woman entered, dressed in formal black and white outfits reminiscent of Old Luthern's attire.
"They'll escort you to your room. Feel free to use any clothes you find there," she said with a gentle smile.
Maybe my arrival wasn't quite how I imagined it... But now, things didn't seem so bad.
Confusion bled into exhaustion, and exhaustion crept in.
Yes... just until tomorrow...
— • — Present day — • —
Third Person POV:
"Now we can talk civilly," Alan said, slamming his left hand on the table.
Alan: 'Well, it'd be civil if we ignored the knife I'm holding under the table.' He figured staying in the alley too long would seem suspicious, so they went back inside and sat at a table.
Alan: 'Lucky me, to find such a big fish this easily. I've got a ton of questions, and I don't even know where to start. Wait, no, I know the most important one.'
"Can you teach me that language magic—or whatever it's called? This has gotten really annoying. And if you have one, I'd also love a map." He flashed the biggest, most 'friendly' smile he could muster, ignoring Elrik's wide-eyed panic beside him.
"I will! I will! Just stop doing that with your face!" Julian said, turning away. Alan's face looked like a seventy-year-old man having facial spasms.
Alan: 'What's he even talking about? Doesn't matter; he said yes.'
"So how does it work?" he pressed, eyes wide with excitement. The idea of seeing magic in action and learn it greatly excited him. Julian's fingers drummed the table, a staccato beat of hesitation, thinking deeply.
"Umm... well, it's not actually magic," Julian said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
Alan: "I don't care what it is, just teach me!"
"... that's the problem. You see, there's this thing called 'Unique Skills', and... they can't be taught. Because, as the name implies, they're 'unique'." He said this slowly, watching Alan's expression twist with disappointment.
Alan groaned. 'Back to babbling like a toddler, then' He let his head drop onto the table, mourning his new struggle. Even with a good memory, learning a whole language would be a nerve-racking task.
"Hey hey," Elrik gently nudged Julian's arm before asking, "Can you use magic? Can you teach me? Pleeeeease?"
Of course, Julian didn't seem thrilled about the request; his head still hurt from getting a plate smashed on it.
Julian: "Shouldn't you apologise first? You almost killed me, you know?"
Elrik: "Oh, uh that, yes yes, I apologise! Now, do you agree?" His eyes were practically glowing, eager for a yes. Magic wasn't allowed in public places—especially cities—for safety reasons. Teaching it had to be supervised by the authorities, for similar reasons. So Elrik never got many chances to experience or learn it.
Julian: 'What kind of apology was that...' He sighed, rubbing his temple. It looked like this wouldn't be a good time for him.
Alan: "Well. Whatever." He slowly raised his head from the table and took off his glasses.
"I hope we'll be having a... fruitful conversation, yeah?" he said, a sly smile forming on his face. "Before that, I'm Mark. And you are?" he added, keeping the smile.
Julian: "Julian. And your friend?"
"How would I know?" Alan said with a mocking shrug.
Hearing Julian's question, Elrik jumped in: "Sorry, I didn't introduce myself, Julian. I'm Elrik. Nice to meet ya."
Julian: "He's Elrik. Now, about your questions..."
"Yeah, I'm getting to that. First: where is here?" Alan asked, locking eyes with Julian, who sat across from him with his arms folded.
"We're in the western part of the Eastern Empire. The town of Zarethun. I don't have a map, but we're the farthest east you can go; past us, there's just the sea."
Alan: "Have you met someone from Earth? Are there more of us?" This was one of the questions that had echoed in his mind again and again since his encounter with Julian, so he couldn't wait any longer to ask.
Julian: "No, maybe."
Alan: 'That's not helpful at all. Fine, on to the real question.'
"You mentioned something about 'skills'—what was that?"