In the middle of the jungles of Mindanao, a single soldier was trying to find his way home.
The night pressed down like a living thing.
Humidity wrapped around 2nd Lieutenant Alayas Cruz, Scout Ranger, clinging to his uniform and seeping into his lungs with every measured breath. The jungle was alive with noise, crickets grinding their endless rhythm, distant frogs croaking in stagnant pools, leaves shifting in unseen currents of wind.
Alayas moved through it all like a shadow.
He had been separated from his unit three hours earlier during a chaotic engagement near a river bend. Contact had been sudden. Visibility poor. Gunfire everywhere. When the smoke cleared, he was alone.
He had not panicked.
Scout Rangers were trained for worse.
He navigated now using memory, terrain association, and instinct. The extraction point was southwest. If he kept moving along the ridge line, he would eventually intercept the rally position.
He paused.
A flicker of orange light danced through the trees below.
His body went still.
Slowly, he crouched and lifted his binoculars.
Tents.
Six, no, eight.
Armed personnel moving between them.
Weapons stacked near a central fire.
Crates.
Supply lines.
A terrorist encampment.
Alayas exhaled slowly through his nose.
He had not intended to stumble into an enemy base tonight.
But fate did not ask permission.
He moved uphill, careful not to disturb loose stones or dry branches. Higher ground meant advantage. A sniper did not fight chaos. A sniper controlled it.
He found the spot a natural outcropping reinforced by roots and stone. Clear line of sight. Concealment from below. Stable surface.
Perfect.
He lowered himself into a prone position and assembled his rifle with practiced efficiency. Scope aligned. Bipod steady. Breath even.
He pressed his earpiece.
"Command, this is 2nd Lieutenant Alayas Cruz. I have located an enemy encampment. Estimated fifteen armed personnel. Coordinates incoming."
Static crackled.
He adjusted the frequency.
"Command, do you copy?"
Nothing but interference.
He frowned slightly. The jungle often interfered with signals.
Then—
A faint blue reflection shimmered in his scope lens.
Alayas froze.
Slowly, he turned his head.
A small orb of blue light hovered beside him.
It hummed softly.
Not mechanical.
Not electrical.
The air around it distorted like heat above asphalt.
His hand tightened around the rifle.
"Command," he said calmly, though his pulse quickened, "be advised, I have visual on an unknown luminous object at my position. Approximately one meter to my right. Possible surveillance drone or advanced tech. Investigating."
The orb pulsed brighter.
Leaves around it began to lift from the ground.
Wind spiraled inward.
Alayas rolled onto one knee, abandoning his firing position.
"Command, object is increasing in intensity"
The orb expanded.
Silently.
The wind became violent.
The forest bent inward toward the sphere.
The blue light intensified into a swirling vortex.
Alayas grabbed onto a thick tree root as the suction force slammed into him. His rifle strap tore free from his shoulder.
"Command!"
The world vanished in white.
Cold air filled his lungs.
Silence.
Not jungle silence.
True silence.
Alayas opened his eyes slowly.
He lay flat on unfamiliar ground.
The soil felt different, denser, colder.
He rolled onto his back.
Above him.
Two moons.
One large and white, glowing with cold brilliance.
The other smaller.
Red.
His mind refused to process it.
He sat up.
The trees were enormous. Their trunks thicker than anything native to the Philippines. Their bark darker. Their leaves silver-tinted beneath alien moonlight.
"This is not home," he whispered.
He stood slowly.
"This is not Earth."
A wave of dizziness threatened him, but he forced it down.
Training first. Emotion later.
He reached for his thigh holster.
Empty.
His pulse spiked.
He scanned the area with immediate precision.
Ten meters away, partially resting against a massive tree, lay his backpack.
He moved quickly, retrieving it and dropping to one knee behind the trunk before opening it.
Inside.
His reserve pistol.
Extra ammunition.
Combat knife.
Medical kit.
He loaded the pistol instantly and secured it in his holster.
A metallic glint caught his eye beneath fallen leaves nearby.
He brushed them aside.
His sniper rifle.
Undamaged.
He checked the chamber.
Functional.
A small breath escaped him.
Grounded again.
Then.
A scream tore through the night.
"Help!"
A woman's voice.
Fear-stricken.
Without hesitation, Alayas moved toward the sound.
The clearing opened suddenly before him.
A young woman sprinted between trees, her robes fluttering around leather armor strapped tightly across her torso. A sling bag bounced against her hip. No weapon in her hands. No staff.
Behind her, two men gave chase.
Their clothing resembled something from a medieval reenactment leather tunics reinforced with metal plates, swords at their sides.
The first man stopped abruptly.
His right arm began to glow amber, light spreading beneath his skin like molten veins.
Alayas' breath slowed.
The man thrust his arm forward.
Fire erupted from his palm.
A blazing projectile tore through the air and exploded at the woman's feet.
The blast hurled her forward.
She hit the ground hard.
The two men approached leisurely, smirking.
The woman struggled onto one elbow, blood streaking her temple.
She whispered weakly:
"Lux… Aether… Solis…"
Her palm ignited with radiant white light.
She thrust her hand outward.
A concentrated arc of lightning shot forward and struck one of the attackers square in the chest.
He flew backward and hit the ground.
But after a moment.
He groaned.
Rolled.
Stood.
Anger distorted his features.
"That's all you've got?!"
The second man stepped forward and punched her across the face.
She collapsed.
Unconscious.
They began pulling at her sling bag.
Alayas stepped from the shadows.
He fired into the air.
BANG.
The thunderclap echoed across the forest.
"STOP."
Both men spun around.
He stood firm, rifle aimed directly at them.
One glanced at the weapon but reached again for the bag.
BANG.
A second shot into the sky.
"Last warning."
The men exchanged rapid words in their strange language. Suspicion. Confusion. They were debating whether this was magic.
One drew his sword.
His free hand ignited with flame.
He charged.
He hurled another fire spell.
Alayas fired once.
The rifle cracked sharply.
The bullet punched through the man's chest.
He dropped instantly.
The second attacker froze.
Then screamed a word filled with raw grief.
Wind burst beneath his feet.
He launched high into the air toward Alayas.
Alayas fired.
The man twisted midair, blocking the bullet with his sword. The impact still threw him backward before he landed hard.
Then he moved.
Faster than any human Alayas had ever seen.
Zigzagging.
Covering ground at triple normal speed.
Alayas adjusted and fired twice.
Miss.
Miss.
He dropped the rifle and drew his pistol.
Controlled shots.
Miss.
Miss.
The swordsman closed in and slashed downward.
Alayas rolled aside, dirt exploding where he had stood.
During the roll, he pulled a fragmentation grenade and tossed it toward the attacker's boots.
The man sensed danger and leapt—
The grenade detonated midair.
Shrapnel tore into his shoulder.
He crashed down but forced himself upright, breathing heavily.
"You use strange weapons…" he spat.
He charged again.
Alayas threw another device at his own feet.
Smoke grenade.
Thick grey smoke swallowed the clearing.
The attacker vanished inside it.
Then lightning erupted.
Wild.
Uncontrolled.
Bolts of blue energy exploded randomly through the smoke tearing through trees, scorching earth, striking empty air. He was firing blindly, rage overpowering discipline.
The forest lit up with chaotic flashes.
Then the lightning ceased.
A shift in air pressure.
The man raised his hand and chanted sharply.
Wind gathered around him in a focused spiral.
A powerful gust exploded outward in a controlled wave, sweeping the smoke from the clearing and scattering leaves in every direction.
Visibility returned.
Silence.
Alayas was gone.
Twenty meters to the right.
Prone.
Rifle steady.
Crosshairs aligned.
Before the swordsman could react.
Alayas fired.
The bullet struck cleanly through his forehead.
The body collapsed instantly.
Stillness reclaimed the forest.
Alayas remained motionless for several seconds, scanning for additional threats.
None.
He approached cautiously.
On the dead man's hip hung a small glowing pouch.
It pulsed faintly when he touched it.
The material felt soft but strong almost alive.
"What are you…" he murmured.
A weak cough behind him.
He turned quickly.
The woman stirred.
He approached and knelt beside her.
Her eyes struggled to focus.
"You… mana empty…" she whispered weakly.
He didn't understand the words.
"…but you wield the power of thunder…"
Her head tilted.
She fell unconscious again.
Alayas stood slowly beneath the twin moons.
A soldier from Earth.
In a forest that should not exist.
Magic real.
Fire cast from hands.
Lightning summoned by words.
And somehow.
He had survived it.
He looked at the glowing pouch in his hand.
Then at the unconscious woman.
Then at the red moon overhead.
Whatever had brought him here…
It was not random.
And something deep in his instincts told him.
This world was far more dangerous than the one he had left behind.
He slung his rifle over his shoulder.
Lifted the unconscious girl carefully.
And began walking into the alien forest.
Far from home.
Toward a future he could not yet see.
Under two moons that did not belong to Earth.