He fell from nothingness.
No light, no sound. Only emptiness—then… a crash.
The ground welcomed his body—rough, cold, and far too real.
Arthur Muyz coughed, shifting among wild grass he'd never seen before.
Above him, the sky was dim, painted with two faint suns hanging like dying remnants of old stars.
The clouds moved slowly—smooth spirals like ink strokes across an unfinished canvas.
He rose slowly, realizing he was wearing unfamiliar clothes—
a torn shirt, ripped pants, and a small leather bag that felt like it belonged to someone else.
"Where… am I?"
No answer.
Even the wind refused to reply.
He was alone.
This world was silent, but not still.
It felt like it was waiting.
Like it was watching.
His first step was light… but foreign.
He descended a rocky hill and stared at the new world before him.
Massive forests spread across the land,
and a narrow path cut through dry fields toward the ruins of moss-covered buildings.
And as he looked out across the horizon,
a strange feeling surfaced.
Not fear.
Not surprise. But—
"I… feel like I've been here before."
There were no memories of this place.
No images in his mind.
But his body didn't reject it—
as if part of him had once walked this land…
perhaps in a dream.
Or in a story.
He closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply.
But this world didn't offer full breath—
the air here was too dense,
as though it carried something more than just oxygen.
Then something appeared.
[Scaling Inactive]
Status: Unknown
Existence Consistency: Low
World Affiliation: Unlinked
The message floated in the air,
like a thought that had taken visible form.
Arthur froze.
"Scaling?" he whispered.
That word… he knew it.
But from where?
And more importantly—
why didn't this world recognize him?
Footsteps echoed in the distance.
Fast. Trained.
Arthur hid behind a crumbled wall.
Through a crack, he saw a group of men in gleaming silver armor,
each holding magic spears glowing faintly.
A winged golden eye symbol was etched across their chests.
They stopped right where Arthur had walked earlier.
One of them crouched, touching the dirt.
"A fresh trail. Unnatural. Someone walked from that mountain to here," he said in a strange language—
but somehow, Arthur understood.
Not fully, but enough.
"Could someone really be in this cursed forest?" asked another.
Their leader nodded.
"If not a demon, then a man.
This kingdom has fought demons longer than any other."
"If it's a demon… kill on sight?"
"No. Capture.
The King seeks answers—about the Demon King's next move."
Arthur held his breath.
This world… is at war with demons?
He waited for them to pass,
then sprinted toward the forest.
His body moved fast.
Too fast.
His muscles adapted before his thoughts could command them—
as if this body wasn't truly his…
yet not completely foreign either.
Like a body waiting for its soul to arrive.
Deep in the forest, Arthur stopped.
He looked up at the sky.
No birds.
Yet the leaves rustled, as if whispering secrets.
This world was on the brink of collapse.
It stood at the edge of ruin,
and the ground beneath him felt fragile.
Slowly, but surely—
everything was falling apart.
"This world… is about to break," he whispered.
"But… even if the demons are defeated, will peace truly follow?"
He sat against the root of a giant tree, trying to understand.
"Did I really die… and end up here?"
But if this was a new life,
why did everything feel so familiar?
And if this was a second birth,
why did nostalgia feel stronger than birth itself?
"Maybe… I wasn't reborn.
Maybe I was just moved—separated from one world to another."
Then, from within the earth, a soft hum echoed:
[Scaling: Existence Fragment Detected]
Adjustment Process: 3%
Partial Awareness Accepted by World
Initial Inquiry: Who Are You in the World Without a King?
Arthur stared blankly at the glowing text.
"Who am I… in the world without a king?"
The question pierced the silence.
Could there have once been a king?
But the man in armor had spoken of "the king" as if he were real…
Or—was there a deeper story beneath all this?
Arthur didn't have the answer.
But he knew one thing:
this world wouldn't let itself be destroyed… alone.
As night fell, the world changed colors.
The sky turned deep violet,
and the stars formed strange constellations—
a broken sword,
a burning crown,
and a bird staring down from above.
And in the distance, he heard a voice.
Wordless, yet full of questions.
Not coming from any creature,
but from within himself.
And as he closed his eyes,
Arthur Muyz understood...
That this was only the beginning
of a world heading toward great destruction.
But unlike the past—
he would not sit back and watch it crumble again.