"Is this the FBI? I've… crossed over."
"It's true—this is a magical world. Yeah, like the ones where people fly and cast fireballs."
"Me? I can't fly. They say my magical talent is practically nonexistent. I'll probably never become a powerful mage."
"Oh, and I think I've wound up in a dark magic organization. If nothing goes wrong…"
"I'll most likely be dead by tomorrow."
Deep within the Shadow Council's Magic Crystal Mine,
David Miller stared at the Black Dragon Ring on his thumb and whispered into it.
The Black Dragon Ring and the White Dragon Ring were once a pair. Now only the Black Dragon Ring was left.
If he was right, its twin—the White Dragon Ring—was now in the hands of the agent on the other end of this call, halfway across the globe.
Silence hung on the other end.
Only a low, stern breath was audible.
"Sir, I don't know how you made this White Dragon Ring transmit sound, but filing a false report is a felony."
"The elderly man who found it was so startled he had to be hospitalized. I suggest you end this prank now, turn yourself in, and cooperate. You might receive lighter treatment."
Despite not being trusted,
the familiar voice—a symbol of order and security—gave David his first faint sense of calm in months.
"Agent, please believe me. I really have crossed over."
"This place is called the Shadow Council. It's a dark magic organization."
"They're using me as slave labor in a pitch-black magic mine…"
"They said if I don't dig up four 'Shadow Crystals' by sunset tomorrow, they'll turn my skin into magical parchment."
As David explained, a deeper, steadier voice filtered through faintly in the background on the other end.
"John, what's going on? A ring that talks?"
"…Hand it over…"
"Wait… This isn't right… It's not any known alloy or mineral. My family's in this business, so I know. This isn't right."
"Strange… No electronics, no power source… How is it transmitting sound? That's impossible…"
A rustle of movement and urgent, hushed discussion made David's heart clench.
He was terrified they'd write him off as a madman and cut the connection—or rather, sever whatever link the ring provided.
He rushed on, piling on details to sound credible.
"My name is David Miller. Social Security Number 078-05-1120. I'm from New York."
"You can check—there should be a missing person report on me from a few months back…"
"I was walking past a flea market after work when I saw this pair of rings that looked ancient. I bought them."
"I slipped the Black Dragon Ring on. My thumb was bleeding from a work cut. My blood made the ring glow, then everything went black, and I woke up here, in this magical world."
David's account was coherent and packed with specific detail.
"Magic is real here—exactly like in the fantasy books. People can summon fireballs, command storms, even raise the dead."
"But my own talent is pitiful. My progress has been painfully slow. It was only in the last few days that I finally sensed a wisp of magical energy… Yes! Mana!"
David seized on the key point.
"It was just that tiny spark of energy. I tried pushing it into the ring earlier… and it lit up."
"At first, I thought maybe I could summon some ancient spirit or something, but nothing happened. So then… I just yelled '911' into it…"
"And then… it connected to you."
[Earth]
Agent John listened to the unbelievable, yet meticulously detailed and emotionally charged account.
He looked down at the ancient ring in his hand, also emitting a faint, inexplicable glow—a phenomenon defying all modern science. His expression turned deeply unsettled.
Beside him, the senior agent's brow furrowed. He made a swift decision.
"John, keep him talking. I'll verify his ID and report this up the chain immediately."
"If what he's saying is true…"
The senior agent's voice faded. He clearly couldn't grasp the full implications if David's story checked out.
"This can't be real… Life isn't a movie…"
"He has to be…"
John still leaned toward disbelief, but duty took over. He spoke into the ring, his tone flat and procedural.
"David Miller, we have recorded your statement. It will be verified and escalated."
"Keep this channel open. You will be contacted as soon as possible. I repeat, this is serious."
"If this is a false report… you will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law."
[The Magical World]
"Okay… I'll wait!" David's voice shook with a fragile, desperate hope.
The line fell silent, but the ring's faint, shimmering glow persisted—proof the link held.
For months, his life had been an unending nightmare.
This was a world ruled by the brutal law of the jungle, where ordinary lives were worth less than dirt.
Mages commanded the winds and rains; empires acted with impunity.
Commoners were insects beneath their boots.
With no special advantages, no legendary gear, no guardian spirits, his survival so far was pure luck.
Even after barely touching the fringes of magic, his meager talent condemned him within the Shadow Council to back-breaking labor in the most lethal depths of the Magic Crystal Mine.
If he hadn't secretly mimicked the other apprentices, painstakingly siphoning trace magic from the ore to nurture a single hair-thin strand of power within himself—a strand that had accidentally awakened this ring, the one thing that had crossed worlds with him…
Then he would have died nameless in the dark, his fate forever unknown.
"This ring... its origins are unknown, its nature mysterious."
"I'm in a magical world, and channeling magical energy into it formed a link to its twin on Earth, the White Dragon Ring…"
"But I have to wonder… is it just for talking, or… does it do more?"
His thoughts raced. He had only just awakened the ring and understood almost nothing about it.
Yet now, his survival in this merciless world might hinge on it alone.
As David was lost in thought, the ring hummed softly again, its glow solidifying.
This time, the voice was not the young agent's.
It was steady, slightly gravelly, laced with unquestionable authority.
Every word was deliberate and clear:
"Mr. David Miller."
That single address made David start, as if he'd finally touched solid ground.
"I am the director of a Special Projects Division. Authorities have conducted a preliminary review of your situation and are treating it with the highest priority."
"Our technical teams have confirmed anomalous energy signatures and a unique comms link from this ring. Initial analysis shows…"
"The signal point of origin… does not match any known spatial coordinates on Earth."
"In short… we provisionally accept your account as credible."
When "we provisionally accept your account as credible" came through the ring,
a violent shudder ran through him.
The torrent of emotion he had dammed up for months—the fight against sheer despair—burst through, threatening to pull him under.
"Sir, I..." David's voice caught, the words dissolving into emotion.
The steady voice returned, its tone shifting into something harder, more operational.
"As of now, I am formally establishing a liaison on behalf of the national government."
"Your prime directive is survival."
"Detail your immediate environment, hostile forces, and threat level. Support and extraction options are being assessed."
"What do you require? How do we keep you alive?"