Unlike what Julian had seen in movies and light novels, there was no truck-kun. He wasn't hit by an accident, no magical portal opened for him, and he didn't perform any strange ritual. It just... happened. Abruptly.
He had just finished a long day at university. Media and journalism might not be the most exhausting major, but it was terribly boring, especially when you had zero passion for it. While rummaging through his wallet for change to buy juice from the vending machine, he was struck by something odd: the vending machine wasn't there.
More accurately, it was no longer there. In its place stood a large bronze statue of a man in a long robe, his sword plunged into the ground. He looked around in a frenzy and found himself in what seemed to be a public square, with families and ordinary people all around. The clothing, the buildings, the streets, and even the sky—everything was different. Unnaturally clear.
To say he panicked would be an understatement. He rubbed his eyes multiple times, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. It was real. Too real. He slumped against the statue's base, his mind completely overwhelmed.
Did I just get isekai'd? Just like that? No truck, no summoning circle, just boom, new world?
Minutes passed. He began to recover from the initial shock. There was no use in overthinking. All those films about parallel worlds had prepared him, giving him a strange sense of excitement and anticipation.
He stepped out of the large, circular plaza, full of flowers and plants, and headed toward the main road. The city bustled with life, and ornate, luxurious carriages filled the streets, drawn by creatures he'd only seen in video games. Shops and stalls of every kind stretched as far as the eye could see. Stone facades loomed like giants, carved with dragon scales that seemed to ripple in the dying light.
Then something caught his eye: people who looked human, but were wrong. They were chained, burdened with enormous bags and crates that made them stumble with every step. His fists clenched. Slavery. Here. And no one cared. Bystanders glanced away, quickening their steps. It felt normal to them.
He turned his gaze away and continued wandering down the street. Sure, world-hopping was fascinating, but he had no idea what to do now. If there were other races, then there must be magic, right? He'd always imagined himself as a wise, powerful mage, wielding a grand staff made from rare materials. And now that he was in a magical world, maybe that dream wasn't impossible.
I bet I'd look great in a red cloak. It'd have to be made from the hide of a dragon I slayed myself. Stories would spread about how I defeated the ancient dragon that terrorised the world for centuries and—
"I bet you'd look great in a red cloak."
Julian flinched, turning left toward the voice beside him in panic. When had he even started walking next to him? He was about his height, maybe a bit shorter, wearing a short-brimmed hat that partially covered his shoulder-length black hair. His funeral-black silk drank the light, pooling shadows around him with a matching black tie and a long black coat on his shoulders. A small smile tugged at his lips, but the rest of his face was strangely hazy. For some reason, Julian didn't feel comfortable trying to focus too hard on his features.
"Relax, relax," he said with a soft voice that had a slight feminine edge to it. "It's not like I'm holding a knife to your throat or anything."
Despite his hesitation, Julian approached him warily. He found that amusing, letting out a short chuckle that revealed sharp, predator-like teeth.
"I thought you'd be happy to have a guide after your little trip. Ones like you shouldn't wander alone here, after all. But clearly, I'm annoying you. My bad," he said, turning to walk away, heading across the street.
A guide? Little trip? Does he know I'm not from this world?
"Wait! I didn't say that! I was just... surprised, that's all. Please, help me!" Julian grabbed his arm to stop him before he crossed, surprised by how light it felt, like holding a feather.
"All right, all right. If you're that insistent, I guess I don't have a choice," he said, apparently refusing to choose a gender. Julian slowly let go of his arm as he continued. "I'll take you to your starting point. Follow me."
Wait... just like that?
Before Julian could even react, he was already several meters ahead.
"Ah—wait for me!"
They wove through the crowd together toward his so-called 'starting point.' Julian tried to strike up a conversation, ask a few questions, but his guide either ignored him or responded with the faintest of nods. A growing sense of unease settled over him. Was he being tricked? Was this a scam? Was it a good idea to blindly follow someone like this?
"Remember, I never forced you to follow me," he said suddenly, his voice calm and almost mocking. "It was your own choice. And of course, it still is. You can turn back and forget all about me. Whichever you choose, just remember, whatever comes next, it's your decision. Nothing more, nothing less."
His hat tilted up. Though the brim of his hat hid his eyes, Julian could feel his gaze pierce right through him like a blade. But it wasn't aimed at him; it was directed at something farther away. Something Julian might never be able to comprehend.
Julian's anxiety spiked. Every instinct in his body screamed for him to stop, to run. Anywhere—anywhere would be better than staying with this person.
"Hehehe." The laugh ripped from him, raw, jagged, a deep, raw laugh that seemed to rise from the depths of his being. It felt like the only genuine thing Julian had heard from him so far.
"No need to worry. As long as you follow me, so long as you believe in me and trust me, I'll make sure you are on the right path." His whisper slithered into Julian's ear.
Trust him? The right path? What path was he talking about?
Julian clenched his fists. His nerves were unravelling, thread by thread. Everything had happened so fast since he arrived in this world. He hadn't even had time to adjust. And this guy... this thing... refused to give him straight answers and kept playing games with words.
"This is absolute nonsense! You claim you want to guide me, yet you won't even tell me where we are! You ask me to trust you, but you keep acting secretive and ignoring my questions! You know what? I'm leaving!" Julian said, having completely lost his patience with this thing in front of him.
"Good luck to you! Not that it'll help!" he said, waving from afar as his smile grew wider with every second. He was insane. Julian needed to find real help, but how?
Even though he'd gotten rid of whoever that person was, he doubted he was human; it seemed he was back to square one. He kept walking up the street, hoping to find something, anything, that might help him somehow. The noise of the city surrounded him: people buying goods from shops and street vendors, some rushing by with briefcases, like office workers late for their jobs. Thankfully, he, too, was wearing a suit and tie; otherwise, he might've stood out too much. Unfortunately, his bag, despite its size, held nothing useful. Just a notebook, a pencil, and some cash, which he had a feeling wouldn't help him here.
He noticed signs on carts, stores, and street corners, but none of them made any sense to him. That made him wonder, how was he able to talk to that man earlier? Was it some side effect of world-hopping? Or one of his powers?
Julian was starting to regret leaving him. His arrogance had pushed him over the edge; he'd always hated arrogant people, so dealing with him was frustrating. Maybe if he'd just held on a bit longer... He looked back, hoping he might've followed him or something, but he didn't see him. He'd already gone too far. And he was the one who walked away.
"Just remember, whatever comes next, it's your choice."
His words kept echoing in Julian's mind. He began to realise how badly he might've messed up. He'd made the biggest mistake yet. He turned back to retrace his steps, but he was nowhere to be found. Julian thought about searching more thoroughly, but he figured wandering deeper into these alleys and streets might be dangerous. He didn't even know where he was.
Then he remembered, the 'guide' had been leading him somewhere, down the street. He had no other destination in mind, so he decided to continue in the direction they'd been going.
As the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple, Julian found himself on an increasingly empty street. The bustling crowds had thinned to nothing, shops had shuttered their windows, and even the usual sounds of urban life had faded to an eerie silence.
Strange. Where did everyone go?
He stopped, looking around at the deserted street. Street lamps flickered to life, casting long shadows between the buildings. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the distant sound of his own footsteps echoing off the cobblestones.
That's when he noticed them.
Three figures emerged from the shadows at the far end of the street, walking toward him with measured, purposeful steps. They wore dark uniforms with dark blue coats with silver trim, fitted precisely to their frames. Strange insignias decorated their collars, symbols that seemed to shift and change when he looked at them directly.
Julian's heart began to race. The emptiness of the street suddenly felt deliberate, orchestrated.
The trio approached with military precision, their boots making soft, synchronised sounds on the cobblestones. The leader was a woman with short-cropped auburn hair and calculating green eyes. Her companions flanked her, one tall and lean with pale skin, the other shorter with dark features and watchful eyes.
"Julian Volkov," the woman said as they came to a stop a few meters away. Her voice was calm, professional. "My name is Seria. These are Christopher and Morse."
Julian's blood ran cold. How do they know my name?
"We understand this must be confusing," Seria continued, noting his expression. "The transition between worlds is disorienting. But you're safe now."
The shorter man, Morse, stepped forward slightly. "Hello there, just relax, you will be safe in the hands of the Empire"
"The Empire?" Julian's mind raced, trying to process what he was hearing.
"We're here to help," Christopher explained, his tone gentle but professional. "We monitor these kinds of incidents. Help displaced individuals adjust, ensure everyone's safety."
Seria nodded. "You're not in trouble, Julian. You're just lost. All we need is for you to come with us. We have facilities designed for people in your situation. Food, shelter, proper orientation."
Julian studied their faces, searching for deception. They seemed sincere, even concerned. But the empty street, the perfect timing, the knowledge of his name, it all felt too convenient.
"What if I refuse?" Julian asked cautiously.
"That's your choice," Seria replied without hesitation. "But consider your alternatives. You have no local currency, no connections, and no understanding of our laws or customs. Marcaine can be challenging for those without proper guidance."
She wasn't wrong. He'd been wandering aimlessly since arriving, with no plan beyond vague hopes of magical adventure.
"We're not asking for a lifetime commitment," Morse added. "Just a chance to help you find your footing. A few days of orientation, and then you're free to make your own decisions."
Julian felt his resolve wavering. The logical part of his mind screamed warnings about trusting strangers, but the practical part acknowledged his desperate situation.
Before he could respond, a new voice cut through the evening air, elderly, cultured, carrying an authority that made all three officers tense immediately.
"How unfortunate. Just as the young man was about to make such an important decision,"
Julian spun toward the source. An old man stood casually in the middle of the street behind them, as if he'd simply materialised there. He was dressed in simple dark clothing, but something was unsettling about his presence, the way shadows seemed to bend around him despite the street lamps.
Seria's hand moved instinctively toward something at her belt. "You..."
"Hm?" The old man smiled pleasantly. "How tedious! I travelled all this way, and that's your only response?"
Without warning, the world seemed to blur. Julian felt reality shift around him like warm air, his perception warping as the street beneath his feet became uncertain. Seria's confident stances wavered as the ground they stood on began to ripple like water.
Seria reached for her weapon under her uniform, but her movements seemed sluggish, as if she were moving through thick liquid. Morse attempted to cast some kind of spells, but they flickered and died in the chaotic energies surrounding them.
The old man moved through the distorted space with casual ease, reaching Julian before the young man could even process what was happening. A firm hand gripped his shoulder.
"Terribly sorry for the abruptness," he said calmly, his voice the only thing that remained clear in the chaos.
"Wait—what—" Julian struggled against the grip, but it was immovable. The world lurched, and suddenly they were rising, the street falling away as the old man carried him up the side of a building with impossible ease.
Behind them, Julian could hear Seria shouting orders, the sound of boots on cobblestones as the group gave chase. But the elder moved like flowing water across the rooftops, leaping from building to building with supernatural grace that made pursuit impossible.
"Hey! What are you doing!?" Julian shouted as they bounded across the urban landscape, his stomach dropping with each impossible leap.
"Patience," he replied, his voice conversational despite their breakneck pace. "All will be explained momentarily."
They cleared several more buildings before the old man finally descended, landing silently in a small, shadowed courtyard far from the main streets. He set Julian down gently, finally releasing his grip.
Julian staggered backwards, his legs unsteady. "Who are you? What just happened back there?"
The old man smoothed down his clothing and turned to face him fully. In the dim light of the courtyard, his features were sharp and patrician, his eyes holding depths that seemed far older than his lined face suggested.
"First, my apologies for the dramatic extraction," he said formally. "I realise it must have been quite startling. However, those individuals were preparing to cause you significant harm."
"Harm?" Julian's mind reeled. "They said they were trying to help me. They knew about people like me, about—"
"Oh, they know about your kind quite well," the old man interrupted, his tone turning grim. "They know exactly what uses displaced persons can be put to. Experimentation, mostly. The Empire has developed quite sophisticated methods for studying spatial anomalies."
Julian felt sick. "You're saying they were going to experiment on me?"
"Among other things." His expression was grave. "The Empire's research divisions have made great strides in understanding otherworldly physiology. Unfortunately, their methods are somewhat invasive."
"How did you know?" Julian demanded. "How did you know I was in danger?"
He glanced around the courtyard, his ancient eyes scanning the shadows. "...This is hardly the appropriate venue for such discussions."
He stepped closer "Allow me to introduce myself properly," the old man said with a slight bow. "My name is Luthern Varn. And you, Julian Volkov, have just become a very valuable asset in a war you don't yet understand."