Darkness hums.
That's the first thing I notice — not silence, not sound, but a low, electric hum that vibrates inside my skull. My body feels weightless, suspended in a place where time doesn't exist. I try to move, but my limbs refuse to obey. My breath catches; there's no air.
And then — light.
It bursts behind my eyelids, searing and golden, washing away the dark. I gasp sharply as my lungs fill for the first time in what feels like forever. The taste of iron and static floods my mouth.
When I open my eyes, I'm staring at a sky with two suns.
They hang over me like twin lanterns in an endless violet expanse, their rays crossing in patterns that shouldn't exist. The air shimmers with heat and faint silver motes, like dust suspended in water. Beneath me stretches a wasteland of metallic sand, glittering and alien.
For a long moment, I just breathe.
Then memory slams into me — the lab, the Quantum Rift Engine, the alarms screaming, Yuto shouting "Akiya, it's overloading!" before the world shattered in a blinding flash of blue.
And now… here.
"…Nani…? Doko da, kore wa…?" I whisper hoarsely.
("What…? Where is this…?")
My voice sounds small, fragile against the vastness.
I push myself upright, the suit around my body creaking as micro-servos reinitialize. The interface across my visor flickers — Power: 19%. Oxygen: 31 minutes remaining.
Great. Not dead, but definitely not safe.
The wind howls across the metallic dunes, carrying a faint, mechanical resonance. It's not natural wind — it's humming, like a giant engine breathing somewhere beyond the horizon.
I stand fully, staggering for a second as gravity feels just a little off. Lighter than Earth's, maybe 0.8 G. Enough to make me feel floaty, unbalanced.
A dull ache pulses through my skull — probably from dimensional shock. The human brain wasn't made to be torn through realities.
"Alright, Akiya," I murmur, forcing my voice steady. "Focus. Analyze. Survive."
My left gauntlet still works; its scanner lights flicker on, projecting holographic readouts into the air. The readings make no sense — quantum radiation levels beyond measurement, oxygen trace mixed with xenon, argon, and something unidentifiable.
I tap the display twice. It blinks and then shuts down. Dead.
Figures.
I glance around. To the east — if that word even applies here — I see structures rising from the horizon. Towering shapes of obsidian and silver, half-ruined but clearly artificial. The nearest one catches the light, glowing faintly blue from within, like a heartbeat.
Civilization. Or what's left of it.
I start walking. Each step leaves a faint trail of glowing footprints that fade seconds later. The sand responds to heat and pressure — alive in some strange, molecular way. My scientist's mind races even as fear gnaws at the edges of my thoughts.
"Dimensional phase… energy fields stable… but atmospheric composition…" I mutter to myself. Talking helps me think. Helps me pretend I'm not completely alone.
A flash of metal catches my eye. Half-buried in the sand lies a fragment of my machine — the Quantum Rift Core casing, twisted and charred. I drop to my knees and brush the dust away. The E-Lab logo is still visible. My lab's logo.
So at least part of my experiment made it through.
"Then… maybe I'm not the only one."
The thought chills me. If the Rift scattered fragments across dimensions, others might have been pulled in. My team? My friends?
Or… something else?
The air hums again — louder this time.
I look up sharply. The twin suns are dimming, an eclipse forming as a third celestial body drifts between them. Shadows ripple across the dunes like waves. And then, far in the distance, I see it — a massive floating structure, casting a web of energy that crackles across the horizon.
It's like a city suspended in the sky.
For a heartbeat, awe replaces fear.
Then something moves behind me.
Instinct kicks in. I spin around, raising my gauntlet like a weapon. The air ripples — and a creature materializes out of thin air.
It's humanoid… mostly. Its body glows faintly with green light, skin translucent, eyes black and pupil-less. It makes a sound halfway between static and breath.
"Yamete…" I whisper involuntarily. ("Stop…")
But it doesn't stop. It lunges.
I stumble backward, fumbling for anything I can use. My hand finds a fragment of the Rift Core — still hot, still humming with power. I thrust it forward. The creature screeches as light bursts from the shard, pure and violent. It disintegrates into motes of dust.
Silence again. Only my ragged breathing fills the void.
I stare at the shard in my hand, trembling. It just saved me — somehow channeled its energy reactively, like it knew. My scientific curiosity roars back to life. "That shouldn't be possible… unless it's resonating with me."
The realization is terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
The ground trembles beneath my feet. Somewhere far away, machinery groans. I look back toward the distant towers. Between the ruins, I see faint lights — moving lights, not static ones. Like patrols.
Someone — or something — lives here.
My helmet AI crackles weakly, startling me.
"—kiya… —response… signal weak…"
I nearly cry. "MIRA! You're alive!"
The AI's voice flickers. "Location: unknown. Environment: unstable. Recommend shelter."
"Yeah, no kidding," I sigh. "Any signal from Earth?"
"Negative. Dimensional interference: total."
So… I'm cut off completely. Stranded in another reality.
For the first time, the weight of that truth hits me. My knees weaken. I sink into the metallic sand, gripping my head. My breath fogs the visor. "I did it," I whisper. "I opened the portal. But… I lost everything."
A faint tone hums through the air again — deeper, rhythmic. Not mechanical this time, but structured. Like… music.
I lift my head.
Across the horizon, lights move in formation. Not random — deliberate. A group. Figures, armored and mounted on beasts that look half organic, half cybernetic. Their armor glints with crystal panels and glowing circuits.
They're heading straight toward me.
"Okay…" I murmur, standing slowly. "Time to make first contact. Let's hope they're friendly."
I reach up and deactivate my helmet's faceplate, letting the cool alien wind touch my skin. My heart hammers.
As they draw closer, I count six — no, seven riders. Their eyes glow faintly under their visors. The one in front raises a hand — a gesture, maybe.
I raise mine back, cautiously. "Hi! I mean—" I hesitate, then switch instinctively, "Konnichiwa! Watashi wa—"
Before I can finish, a blast of energy slams into the ground at my feet. Sand explodes around me, throwing me backward.
"Okay, not friendly!"
I roll to my feet as they dismount, weapons drawn — blades crackling with plasma edges. The leader's voice booms, echoing strangely in the air.
"Identify yourself! You bear forbidden light!"
I barely understand the words — my suit's translator kicks in, parsing fragments.
"I'm not your enemy!" I shout, raising my hands. "I come in peace!"
Another shot grazes past me, searing the air. I duck behind a shard of crystal protruding from the sand. My pulse thunders.
"MIRA," I hiss. "Translate protocol—fast!"
"Running…" the AI buzzes. "Warning: syntax gap exceeds 42%."
"Do it anyway!"
The voice of the leader grows closer. "Surrender the Core, outsider!"
I glance down at the shard in my hand — the glowing Rift fragment. It's pulsing brighter, responding to my panic. The sand around it begins to vibrate.
"Oh no…"
The energy spike builds too quickly. I throw the shard away just as it detonates in a flash of white light. The shockwave throws everyone backward.
When the light fades, I'm on my back again — the sky spinning above me. My visor display flickers, then goes dark completely. I hear muffled voices, footsteps. Someone leans over me — a tall figure in dark silver armor, his face shadowed by the glow of twin suns.
Through the static in my helmet, I hear his voice, low and commanding.
"Take her," he says. "The Council will want to see what kind of creature falls through the Rift."
My vision fades as hands grip my arms. My last thought before darkness claims me again:
So much for peaceful first contact.
Chapter One: Awakening on the Edge
(Part 2).
When consciousness returns, it does so in fragments: the rhythm of engines, the metallic scent of oil and ozone, the faint vibration of motion beneath me.
I blink into brightness. The world swims into focus through the cracked lens of my visor. Above me stretches a ceiling of translucent crystal, shot through with veins of light that pulse like living circuitry.
I'm moving—lying on a platform that floats several meters above the ground, carried by magnetic repulsion. Two of the armored riders walk beside it, their boots clicking in unison.
My wrists are bound with an energy filament—warm, humming, impossible to break.
"Wonderful," I mutter. "First contact, and I'm already the alien prisoner."
A mechanical chirp sounds in my ear.
"Suit integrity: thirty-six percent," MIRA reports weakly. "Oxygen: stable. Translator sync: fifty-nine percent."
"Keep working on that," I whisper. "I'd like to know what they're saying before they decide to dissect me."
The riders converse in short bursts—sharp, musical syllables. I catch only fragments: Riftlight, Council, anomaly. Their voices carry a reverence mixed with fear. Whatever "Riftlight" means, it's not good news for me.
Through a gap in the crystal walls I glimpse the world beyond.
We're gliding across a canyon that glows from within—veins of blue energy run through the rock like molten rivers. Above, enormous rings drift in the sky, rotating slowly around a distant core of light. It's not just a world; it's an engineered ecosystem, alive with both machinery and nature.
Despite everything, wonder pierces the dread. "Kirei…" I breathe. "Beautiful."
The lead rider glances back at me briefly, eyes unreadable behind his visor. Then he speaks into a wrist console, and our platform rises.
The canyon opens into a vast plain—and there it is.
Elaris.
A floating metropolis suspended on antigravity spires, its towers of glass and silver rising into the twin-sun sky. Energy bridges connect platforms, and airships drift like silver whales between them. From this distance, it looks like a dream built from mathematics and magic.
As we ascend, the wind roars. My hair whips around my face as I stare upward in disbelief. "I did it," I whisper. "I crossed the boundary of worlds."
The thought should thrill me. Instead, it terrifies.
We land on a wide terrace guarded by soldiers in armor that hums with the same crystal light. They speak to my captors, then motion for me to stand. I hesitate, and the lead rider steps forward.
"Move," he says curtly—this time in accented but understandable English.
I blink. "You— You speak my language?"
He tilts his head. "The Core speaks for you. It burns your words into our air."
The Core… the Rift fragment I touched? My pulse quickens.
He removes his helmet. Beneath it is a man—tall, with dark silver hair that catches the light like metal and eyes the color of storm clouds. His expression is carved from discipline, but there's a flicker of curiosity there.
"I am Kael Ardent, Commander of Elaris Defense," he says. "You will answer to the High Council. Until then, you are under my charge."
I manage a weak smile. "Dr. Akiya Tanaka. I—uh—apologize for the explosion earlier."
He studies me for a long moment, then gestures for the guards to release the bindings. "Follow. Do not attempt escape. The air outside this sector will suffocate you."
"Comforting," I mutter, stepping beside him.
As we walk through the corridors of Elaris, I can't help but stare. The architecture is a paradox—organic curves grown from living crystal, but threaded with hard mechanical precision. Children run past carrying glowing orbs that shift colors when they laugh. People stop and stare at me—some with fascination, others with fear.
Kael notices my unease. "You are fortunate," he says quietly. "Others who fell from the Rift did not survive."
I freeze. "Others? You've seen people like me before?"
His jaw tightens. "Not like you. The last one brought ruin."
Before I can press him, massive doors slide open, revealing a circular chamber. At its center floats a crystalline sphere radiating soft light—the Council Core. Around it stand six robed figures whose faces are hidden by holographic veils.
Kael stops beside me and bows slightly. "High Councilors. The outsider."
The sphere brightens, and a voice like layered harmony fills the air. "Child of the Rift, your arrival disturbs the balance. Speak your origin."
My throat tightens. "I'm from… Earth. A world beyond this one. I was conducting an experiment, and something went wrong. I never meant to come here."
Whispers ripple through the chamber. The Core's light pulses faster.
"Earth…" one Councilor repeats, testing the unfamiliar word. "That name lives in the Archive of the First Riftwalker."
"The what?" I whisper.
Kael glances at me, then back at the Council.
"Enough," another voice says sharply. "Her presence is unstable. The energy she carries is identical to the Cataclysmic Source. She must be contained."
"Wait!" I step forward, ignoring Kael's warning hand. "I'm not dangerous! If you let me study the energy, I might be able to stabilize it—and maybe even go home!"
The Council's light dims to a cold hue. "Your home is beyond the Rift. It cannot be reopened without repeating the Cataclysm. You will remain here, under observation."
Guards move in again. Kael hesitates, his brow furrowing. For a heartbeat, our eyes meet. There's doubt in his—perhaps even pity.
"Commander," the Council intones, "see to her containment."
He nods slowly. "As you command."
As they lead me away, anger and despair twist together inside me. I glance once more at the glowing Core in the chamber, feeling its hum echo the rhythm of my own heart. It reacts—just slightly—flaring brighter.
Kael notices. His expression hardens.
Later, in a small chamber overlooking the city, I sit by a window of living glass, staring out at Elaris glowing beneath the twin suns. My restraints are gone; Kael stands near the door, silent.
Finally I speak. "You don't trust me."
"I trust what I can measure," he says. "And you are an equation without proof."
Despite myself, I laugh softly. "Spoken like a scientist."
He doesn't smile, but something shifts in his eyes. "Rest, Dr. Tanaka. The Council will decide your fate at dawn."
As he leaves, I whisper to the empty room, "I'm not giving up. Not until I understand this world."
Outside, the night settles—a strange twilight painted in violet and gold. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolls from beneath the floating city.
And in the silence that follows, I swear I hear the faint echo of my own technology calling back to me—like a heartbeat pulsing from beyond the Rift.
....to be continued...