"
"
He raised his hands, a wide grin spreading across his face, the muscles of his new body responding with an instinctive grace.
"This is like some weird crossover between Hepta Calamitates and an anime I'd binge-watch on a weekend," he mused, grinning wider.
"I bet if I scream 'Kamehameha,' it'll probably work."
He flexed his fingers, the itch to try out more magic humming in his veins.
"Yeah… I could get used to this," he muttered, a crooked grin tugging at him.
"Just don't accidentally blow up the entire continent in the process. That'd be so cliché."
The possibilities sprawled out in his imagination—spells, tricks, combinations he'd never truly felt before.
"But not now." He forced the thrill down. "There are more pressing concerns."
With practiced instinct, he began channeling his next spell.
"
The syllables rolled from his tongue, and raw Aether coiled around him, folding space with every beat of his heart—
—until it snapped.
His concentration fractured against a wall of sudden realization.
He faltered mid-cast, the Aether stuttering, twisting violently.
A curse burned on his lips as he reined it back in, forcing it into himself before it broke loose.
The backlash was brutal, a spike of pain ripping through his chest.
"Well, that was a solid faceplant," he muttered, breathing hard.
"Maybe I should've just stuck with a simple 'Summon Pizza' spell. Less risk of self-incineration." He staggered, exhaling hard.
"Damn it." The truth hit him sharp and merciless.
"
"This spell needs
"Great." he exhaled, half a laugh, half disbelief.
He stared into nothing for a moment, letting the absurdity of the situation sink in.
"Wait—don't tell me… am I actually going to have to walk?"
The thought alone was enough to drag a groan out of him.
"Damn, do I have to behave like an anime protagonist and travel for ten years, collecting random items, friendships and harem girls."
He rubbed his face.
"I am gonna be dead, if I get close to Midspire like that," he sighed aloud.
Sure, he wasn't helpless—spells like float or acceleration were in his arsenal.
But the continent of Hepta Calamitates was massive, a sprawl that swallowed weeks even with magical shortcuts.
"This is going to suck."
His lips pressed thin, but then another memory flickered up.
"No… there's still
"Okay, time to Dragon Ball Z my way to Eryndor," he chuckled to himself.
"Here goes." A spark of anticipation relaxed his shoulders.
"That one should drop me in Eryndor," he muttered to himself. "Assuming I don't accidentally teleport to a lava pit."
Of course, reality followed with its usual slap.
"Which is still thousands of miles north of where I need to be," he sighed.
"Midspire is the heart of the human kingdoms which is far to the south." He sighed again.
"And who knows if the maps even work here."
He couldn't assume this world obeyed the exact distances of the game.
Landmarks might shift. Space itself might not align.
For all he knew, a thousand miles here might feel like ten—or worse, like ten thousand.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling through his teeth.
"If only a she could accompany me on my journey…"
He started imagining, "Me and her, stuck in a dungeon, traveling together… just the two of us, alone under the night sky."
"Perfect."
"Absolutely perfect." He grinned at the thought.
Still, he muttered under his breath.
"Can I really not go back?"
The realization stung more than he wanted to admit.
"Did I really get sent to a fantasy world just to become a tourist?"
'Midspire isn't just another city on the map; it's my place.'
'My personal house is there, my storage, and the Guildhall of Tempest Guild—well, my guild.'
'Assuming, of course, all of that hadn't been erased.'
He'd checked his status earlier, and Tempest Guild was still tagged beneath his name. That alone was a small comfort.
Though the Guild tab was inaccessible, the identity hadn't vanished.
'But without
'Just like in the game, I would have to travel manually, plant a node myself, and bind it for future use.'
'That meant hours of endurance on a Jet Falcon, or else relying on my own spells to keep myself airborne.'
The thought didn't exactly fill him with dread. If anything, he caught himself smirking.
'Flying over the world of Hepta Calamitates in flesh and blood?'
"That sounds less like a chore and more like a gift." he mused, raising his hands to the sky.
"Maybe I can finally get my own flying mount."
"I always wanted a dragon… but, like, not a toddler dragon. A badass one. Like Bahamut, or maybe a good ol' Toothless."
He tilted his head back, letting his gaze sweep across the vastness around him.
The arena of the Ashen Crucible loomed like the maw of some slumbering god, obsidian spires jutting skyward, swallowing him in their jagged embrace.
The rivers of lava cut glowing veins across the black earth, heat shimmering upward in waves. It was terrifying, and yet…utterly breathtaking.
'If one place could look like this—what about the rest?'
'What about Highspire's shining peaks?'
'The disease-choked swamps of Rattlefen?'
'The endless ember-lit forests of Brackenhearth?'
He had wandered those landscapes behind a screen, pixels and renderings.
'But this world is more vivid and more alive.' The thought alone sent a ripple of anticipation down his spine.
So yes, the inconvenience of not instantly reaching Midspire wasn't the end of the world. In truth, a smaller step made sense before the leap.
'I could use the time to observe, prepare, learn.'
"Eryndor first, then," he said, a decision carried on his breath.