The morning light or what passed for morning this high above the clouds, it filtered through the balcony doors, filling the room with a faint golden haze. The marble floor shimmered with soft reflections, and the banners above swayed gently in the invisible wind.
Kyle stood near the balcony, staring at the endless expanse of clouds below. The view was breathtaking, but also terrifying. From where he stood, he could see the faint shapes of flying soldiers, mages, and sentinels patrolling the airways of Aethelgard. The whole citadel floated in the heavens like an island in the sky.
He took a cautious step closer to the railing, then immediately took two steps back.
"Holy hell… that's way too high," he muttered, his knees wobbling slightly.
From this height, even the clouds seemed like solid ground far below. His apartment balcony used to make him slightly nervous; this was thousands of times worse. He pressed his back against a pillar and exhaled.
Still, despite the fear, he couldn't help but admire the view. It was unreal, the city built into the floating fortress was alive with motion. Platforms moved on invisible rails. Magic runes pulsed faintly across bridges. Distantly, he could hear the faint hum of the levitation cores that kept this entire monstrosity afloat.
Everywhere he looked, there was life. Soldiers in golden armor flew past the balcony, their cloaks fluttering behind them. Some saluted in midair as they noticed him, their telekinetic fields shimmering faintly as they hovered.
"Right," he said to himself, scratching the back of his head. "Flying soldiers, knights. Totally normal."
He stepped back inside his grand chamber and glanced around once more, still half in disbelief that this was real. His body felt stronger, sharper, lighter. It wasn't just an illusion; it was him now.
"Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "Let's test this out."
He focused his gaze on the bed across the room.
"Telekinesis or esper, right? Just… focus."
He extended a hand, feeling the faint hum of energy within his mind. The air shimmered slightly. The bedsheet rustled… then slowly, very slowly, began to lift.
Kyle's eyes widened.
"No way," he whispered, his grin widening.
The sheet floated a few inches off the bed, rippling like it was underwater. Kyle clenched his hand experimentally, and the sheet twirled midair, spinning like a lazy ghost.
He laughed, loud and genuine. "Ha! It works! I actually did it!"
He tried lifting other objects, the chair, a cup, then a pillow. Each time, the invisible force responded, effortlessly bending to his will.
"This is insane," he said, waving his hand as multiple objects began to float together. "I'm literally a telekinetic or esper wizard... or simply just a wizard"
He spent several minutes experimenting like a child with new toys. When he finally stopped, the room looked like a hurricane had passed through, blankets halfway across the floor, furniture tilted, his laughter echoing faintly.
He took a moment to calm down, breathing heavily from the excitement.
"I really need more practice, so much for being the esper sovereign. Alright, focus," he told himself. "If this really is Aethelgard… then the throne room should be close."
He smoothed down his tunic, black and gold, perfectly fitted, a far cry from the t-shirts he used to wear and walked toward the heavy double doors of his chamber.
When he stepped into the hallway, the air itself seemed to hum with restrained energy. The corridor stretched wide, lined with towering statues of former rulers, though he knew he'd never made any before. Somehow, the world had filled in those details for him.
As he walked, several soldiers passed by. Each one immediately froze upon seeing him, then bowed deeply.
"Lord Aethelgard," one said, lowering his head until his forehead nearly touched the floor.
Kyle raised a hand awkwardly. "Uh, yeah, hi. Carry on."
The soldier straightened up sharply. "At once, my lord!"
Kyle continued walking, his face blank, but inside, he was cringing hard.
"Damn, they are all so fucking intense." he whispered under his breath. "They act like I'm some holy emperor or something."
A few more soldiers appeared at the intersection ahead. One of them nearly tripped over himself trying to bow properly. Kyle forced a polite smile trying not to laugh, waved a hand, and quickened his pace.
By the time he reached the massive golden doors of the throne room, he was slightly sweating, not from fear, but from pure social exhaustion.
The doors were enormous, etched with runes and carved scenes of wars he vaguely remembered designing as background art.
Six guards stood at attention on either side. As Kyle approached, the doors glowed faintly and opened by themselves, as if acknowledging his presence.
"Uh… thanks," Kyle muttered to no one in particular. "I'm guessing telekinesis again."
He stepped through.
The throne room was vast, almost a city hall in itself. The floor was made of polished obsidian, while gold-trimmed banners hung from every pillar. Floating orbs of light drifted near the ceiling, illuminating murals of celestial battles and legendary heroes.
At the far end, his throne awaited.
It was carved from a single block of dark crystal, veins of gold running through it like rivers of light. The backrest rose high enough to touch the ceiling, crowned by a halo-like ring of floating runes.
Kyle stopped for a moment, admiring his own handiwork.
"Man," he murmured. "I really went overboard."
He walked up the steps and sat down. The seat felt strangely natural, as if it remembered him. For a brief moment, everything was silent except for the faint hum of magic beneath the floor.
He leaned back and exhaled slowly.
"This is… unreal."
His moment of peace didn't last long.
A faint whooshing sound echoed from above and within seconds, Seris, his armored captain from before who looks like a butler, descended through the air, landing with perfect precision before the throne. He knelt immediately, one knee on the polished floor.
"My lord," Seris said, voice calm but urgent. "The council requests your presence. There are matters that must be discussed following your… awakening."
Kyle straightened his posture, trying to look composed. "Understood. I was expecting that, actually."
Seris nodded and turned to gesture toward the open air. One by one, figures began descending from the upper balconies, fifteen in total.
Kyle recognized them instantly.
His elites.
They landed gracefully, forming a half-circle before him. Each one radiated power in a unique way: one's armor glowed faintly with heat, another's eyes shimmered like starlight, another's long white hair flowed even without wind. Every single one of them had been designed by himself.
And now, they were alive.
They knelt in unison, their voices blending into a single echo: "We welcome the return of Lord Aethelgard."
Kyle raised a hand quickly, a little embarrassed. "Uh, yeah, good to see you all again. You can rise."
They stood, faces composed but eyes filled with something deeper, respect, devotion, and perhaps… curiosity.
The woman who stepped forward first had long silver hair and wore a combination of armor and robes. Her expression was calm but commanding.
Seraphine, his High Magister.
"My lord," she said, her voice smooth and clear. "A century has passed since you fell into slumber. Not long after your rest began, the entire citadel was… displaced."
Kyle's eyes narrowed slightly. "Displaced?"
Seraphine nodded. "Yes. The skies beyond changed, and the world below was no longer the one we knew. Our scouts confirmed that Aethelgard now hovers over an unknown continent or world. The magic, the stars, even the flow of the Aether, it is foreign."
The room fell silent.
Kyle's mind raced. So they were transported here when I was.
"And during all that time," he asked, "you didn't explore?"
Seraphine lowered her head slightly. "Without your command, we dared not act. The armies stood ready, but we would not risk dishonoring your will."
Kyle blinked, then nodded slowly. "Right… you guys don't age, or starve. You could wait forever."
He sat back on his throne, thinking. The floating citadel, his army, his elites, all this power and now they were stranded in a world that didn't even exist before.
He needed information.
"Alright," Kyle said finally. "New orders."
The room straightened collectively.
"First," he said, his tone becoming steadier, "lower Aethelgard's altitude to a safe level, high enough to avoid ground contact, but low enough to observe the surface directly. Second, send five of our elite squads to scout the continent below. Avoid direct conflict unless provoked. I want to know what kind of world we're in, its people, its civilizations, its dangers."
Seris bowed slightly. "Understood, my lord. Shall we deploy the Skyward Division?"
Kyle nodded. "Yes. Myrith, take command of that personally. You'll oversee aerial surveillance."
He looked at zareth next. "You'll be in charge of communication and magical analysis. I want to know if the Aether of this world is compatible with ours."
Then, one by one, he turned to the remaining elites, assigning each a role with surprising ease. It was like managing his game all over again, except this time, every order carried real weight.
"To the rest of you," he finished, "prepare the citadel for potential first contact. I don't want any aggressive moves yet. We'll observe, analyze, and adapt."
The fifteen bowed once more. "As you command, my lord."
Kyle watched as they began to leave, some flying through the windows, others vanishing in a shimmer of light.
When the throne room finally fell silent again, he leaned back and rubbed his temples.
"I still can't believe that this is happening," he muttered. "I actually gave orders to my own creations."
He let out a shaky laugh. "And they actually listened."
He glanced out the window, watching as the massive citadel began to descend slowly through the clouds.
He said softly. "Let's see what kind of world we've landed in."
---
Far below, on the surface of a ruined plain, a group of ragged men and women were running for their lives.
Their caravan wagons rattled over broken earth, wheels creaking, horses neighing in panic.
Behind them came a chorus of laughter, high-pitched, cruel, and inhuman.
Goblins.
Hundreds of them on horseback and fully armored, waving jagged weapons, their eyes glowing with predatory excitement.
"Faster!" shouted a man at the front of the caravan, whipping the reins. "Don't look back!"
A woman screamed as an arrow whizzed past, grazing her shoulder. Another wagon toppled as one of the horses tripped.
The goblins cheered and accelerated, closing in fast.
But then, the ground trembled.
A shadow passed over them, vast, dark, and unnatural.
The goblins slowed, confused, as a floating city of gold and black emerged through the clouds above, blotting out the sun.
The humans stared in awe. The goblins screamed in confusion.
And high above, in the throne room of Aethelgard, Kyle leaned forward, eyes wide, as the sight of the world below appeared in his view.