I woke up to the sound of soft chimes.
Not loud enough to startle—just enough to remind me I wasn't home.Not that I even knew what "home" was anymore.
The ceiling above me was the same flawless ivory stone, veined with silver threads that caught the morning light in patterns that almost moved.For a second, I'd forgotten where I was.Then the realization hit.
Right.I was in the estate of a noble woman who bought me like I was a damaged book in a forgotten auction.
There was a knock at the door.Three soft taps. Rhythmic. Precise.
"You are summoned to the main hall for morning meal," a servant's voice said through the door—no emotion, no name. Just an order.
I rubbed my eyes and sat up, the sheets still cool despite how warm the room was.
Serenya was quiet. Likely observing.
"Should I expect poison in the tea or just an awkward silence?" I muttered.
"If she wanted you dead, Ezekiel, she wouldn't need tea." Serenya's voice echoed gently in my mind, dry as ever.
"She wants something else. So be wary of kindness—it may only be another test."
I got up and dressed with what little clothing I had, unsure if I looked like an honored guest or a glorified prisoner. The servant waited just outside and led me through a different hallway this time—this one lined with paintings of people I didn't recognize. Men and women of sharp posture and colder eyes, all bearing the same noble sigil Elowynn wore.
The dining hall was wide and vaulted, its long obsidian table easily fit for twenty, though only two seats were set with silverware.
And at the far end sat Lady Elowynn.
Not in armor. Not in her academy uniform.But in a simple robe of ash-grey silk, hair down, face unreadable.
"Sit," she said without looking up from the scroll she was reading.
A plate had already been set for me—some roasted vegetables, soft bread, and a strange fruit that glowed faintly beneath its translucent skin. A cup of steaming herbal drink sat beside it, fragrant and earthy.
"This... smells better than anything I've had since I got here," I muttered, still standing.
"That's because the Pale March serves food fit for starving soldiers," she replied plainly. "Sit. Eat. Speak when you're ready."
I took a cautious seat.
And so began breakfast with a woman who could level a small army on her own… and somehow decided I was interesting.
"Well, the food in the Pale March was made for people like me to survive," I said as I picked up a piece of the roasted vegetable, "not for taste, I presume."
I wasn't trying to sound bitter—just stating a fact. After all, you don't season despair.
Elowynn glanced up, her expression as unreadable as always.
"Is that so?" she said coolly. "Then excuse me… I hardly find myself in such situations."
Her voice wasn't mocking. Just distant. Like she was speaking about a fable—one she read in passing but never had to live through.
I gave a half-hearted chuckle and shrugged.
"Well, you're not missing much. Food that tastes like burnt cloth, water with more iron than blood, and bread so hard it doubles as a weapon."
She didn't laugh. Didn't smile either. Just calmly folded the scroll she'd been reading and set it aside.
"And yet you survived. Adaptation is a strength."
I nodded slowly, chewing the last of the soft bread before speaking again.
"You say that like it's admirable."
"No. I say it like it's expected."
That one hit sharper than I thought it would. I looked at the glowing fruit and suddenly lost my appetite.
"Tell me," she continued, tilting her head slightly, "do you resent me for purchasing you?"
I paused. Fork still in hand.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I think I'm still too confused to be angry."
"Good," she said flatly. "Anger clouds judgment. And you'll need a clear head for what's ahead."
"Which is?"
She took a sip from her cup before replying:
"We'll test a theory today. I want to know what kind of ripple your presence makes… in a world not designed for you."
"In a different country, not… world," I corrected quickly, trying to sound casual. "That seemed off," I muttered under my breath.
Elowynn raised a brow ever so slightly, unconvinced, but didn't press—yet.
"Sure. Country," she said. "So, what does your country look like?"
I leaned back in my chair, taking a breath. How do you explain Earth to someone who thinks carriages and mana are the norm?
"It's… the definition of convenience," I finally said.
"Convenience?" she repeated, her tone curious now.
"Yeah. Everything is made to make life easier. Faster. More accessible."
"So… it uses magic?"
"Not really," I replied with a faint smile. "Magic, in my country, isn't real. Or… at least not grounded in our reality."
She narrowed her eyes slightly.
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean… people in my country can't use magic. So instead, we built things. Tools. Machines. We used science—logic, trial, error—to replace what you'd call spells."
"Tools?" she echoed, intrigued now. "To do what, exactly?"
"To travel across vast distances in hours. To talk to someone across continents instantly. To store entire libraries in something the size of your hand."
She blinked, then leaned forward slightly.
"And you say none of this is magic?"
"Not by your definition," I replied. "In my world, it's just technology."
"Then perhaps," she said, her voice now low and thoughtful, "you come from a world where people don't wield power through mana… but through ingenuity."
I gave a slow nod.
"We don't cast fire from our hands, but we learned how to split atoms. Which… can be a lot worse, depending on who's in charge."
Elowynn studied me for a moment longer.
"Curious. Your kind might be more dangerous than mages—because you don't need magic to burn a world down."
"That's why there are several laws created to prevent that from happening in my country," I said. "Strict laws. And severe punishment for those who break them."
Elowynn tilted her head slightly, curious.
"So your country has kings and queens as well?"
"Not really," I replied. "We use… other terms. Depends on which state or part of the country we're in."
"And what happens when a monster appears in your land?"
"Monster…"I paused.
Technically, the only monsters on Earth were people. And history has no shortage of them.
"If something like that does show up, we usually send our army. They're armed with something called guns."
"Guns?"
"A machine of war. Built to shoot small projectiles—bullets—at incredible speed. Designed to kill."
Elowynn folded her arms, listening closely now.
"Some monsters here have skin that even spells struggle to pierce," she said. "Would a 'gun' work against something like that?"
"Maybe not," I admitted. "That's why we made things… worse."
"Worse?"
"Weapons designed to blow a creature—or a city—to its very atoms."
Her eyes sharpened.
"An atomic weapon," she said slowly, as if tasting the word.
I nodded.
"Yeah. The one who helped make it regretted it for the rest of his life. Took his own life, I think. But before that, it was used in a war. Wiped out an entire city. Twice."
Elowynn was quiet for a moment, then leaned back in her chair.
"So… in a world without magic, your people found a way to become gods anyway."
"Not gods," I said, voice low. "Just very clever… and very afraid."
"There are few spells that can match the scale of what you describe," she admitted. "Even high-circle incantations require time and sacrifice. But to build something like that…"
"It's the kind of power no one should have," I said.
A long silence passed between us.
Serenya's voice then whispered in my mind:
"Now I understand why you were called here."
I sighed and leaned back against the chair, staring out at the huge lantern-like hanging on the ceiling.
"Hey, if I was brought here to build an atomic bomb… I should probably say, I don't know how to."
A pause.
No response.
I could almost imagine her smirking if spirits were capable of that.
"Seriously though," I muttered, "I barely passed physics. I'm not some super-scientist who knows how to split atoms with a spoon and a prayer."
"It is not the method that matters, Ezekiel." "It is the knowledge that such power exists at all."
That one hit harder than I expected. I rubbed the back of my neck, suddenly aware of the weight of what I'd said earlier.
"You think just knowing about something that dangerous makes me dangerous?"
"In a world where magic has limits, your world's inventions have none."
She paused, then added in a quieter tone:
"And there will be those who seek to mine that knowledge from you… even if you don't understand it."
I closed my eyes for a second.
"Great. First I get bought like fruit, now I'm a walking blueprint for annihilation."
"Not a blueprint. A symbol."
"That's somehow worse."
I was mid-chew when Elowynn, seated at the head of the table, set her cup down with a quiet clink.
"You were speaking to someone?"
I froze for a second before replying.
"Just… processing things," I said.
"Your spirit," she added, not asking—stating.
"…Yeah."
She took another sip of her tea. Then, without warning:
"Tell me, Ezekiel. How long would it take for me to conquer your country?"
I blinked.
"Wait—what?"
"You spoke of a land without magic but with weapons that rival high-circle spells. A place with laws and order built on intellect and invention." "That kind of place… how long would it take to break it?"
I stared at her, genuinely unsure if she was joking. But her face was completely unreadable.
"…That's a bold question over breakfast."
"So humor me," she said flatly.
I set my fork down, wiping my mouth slowly as I thought.
"Minimum?" I finally said. "Seven centuries."
That got her attention.
"Why so long?"
"Because it's not a kingdom. It's a labyrinth with a thousand doors. You don't conquer it like you do land. You'd have to conquer ideas. And ideas don't bleed. They spread."
She tilted her head, intrigued.
"But all machines can be broken."
"Sure. But ours breaks from the inside. And when it does, it burns everything with it."
"Then how does it survive?"
"Because just before it crumbles, it rebuilds itself. It's not built to be ruled. It's built to argue, to change. That's the strength and the flaw."
A silence fell again. She studied me for a while.
"And do you believe you were stranded here because of that knowledge?" she asked.
Serenya's voice echoed faintly in my mind.
"Knowledge can be more dangerous than any blade, Ezekiel. You carry both the match and the memory of the fire."
I looked at Elowynn and shrugged.
"If I was, someone really overestimated me."