Among all the flying poses he tried, the one where he slung his hand and the lightsaber together behind his back was easily the coolest. The style points were maxed. Unfortunately the wind resistance was huge, his skirt kept threatening to flip up, and even his nose almost got blown sideways.
In the end, Pendragon reverted to something more classic. He gripped the hilt with both hands and held it out in front of him, then took off like Superman. The problem was that the magical flames blasting from both blades were way too strong and way too bright. They wrapped completely around his body so that, from a distance, he looked like a low-flying meteor streaking just above the ground.
A circular shockwave rippled outward behind him as Pendragon pushed up a telekinetic barrier around himself and sliced straight through the sound barrier in front.
He did not bother to navigate while flying. With this kind of speed, even crossing an ocean would not take long. Sooner or later he would find a place with Wi-Fi.
A dividing line for riding the wind ninety thousand miles.
America, a certain secret air defense department, tactical command center.
"Sir!"
The man who turned at the call wore a colonel's insignia on his shoulder. His expression was immaculate, his gaze razor sharp. He gave off the impression of an eagle patrolling its own airspace.
"These are the latest images from our military satellite. I think you should see this."
The lieutenant flung a bundle of data onto the main projection. The tactical overlay vanished and was replaced by a series of real world photos. In the top left, a twisted dark red arc carved its way through the heavy cloud layer.
"What is that? A meteorite?"
He knew it was unlikely, but the colonel still did not rule it out.
"We have already confirmed with the relevant departments. Meteorite impact has been ruled out."
"A supernatural event then?"
The colonel's sharp brows drew together. His mood was clearly bad and he did not bother to hide it.
"Any chance we can intercept it?"
"The target is moving at over Mach 7, and it went off our grid over the Atlanta area."
The lieutenant's mouth twitched as he forced himself to answer.
In recent years, even large scale alien invasions had actually happened in the United States. The military and civilians alike had built up quite a tolerance. Faced with something like this, no one completely lost it anymore.
"What the hell is this thing?"
The colonel waved his hand irritably.
"Notify S.H.I.E.L.D."
"Actually, sir, they have already taken over the file."
"…Those bastards."
Pendragon dismissed the sword high above the city. He tightened his telekinetic grip around his own waist to stop in midair, hovering while he looked down over the sea of people.
By the time he felt like his waist was about to be pinched in half, Pendragon finally located a place that met his requirements and dropped quickly toward the ground.
"Yikes, this really is a tiny little waist."
He rubbed at the sore spot where his telekinesis had been digging in. It felt like his left and right fingers were only a little short of touching and overlapping around it.
Pendragon did not make any effort to avoid being seen. He descended right in front of the hotel entrance. The doormen were stunned into stupidity, and from the passing crowd came a chorus of "Oh my God" and similar cries.
"So this is America, huh?"
Pendragon's gaze swept across the street. He noticed that plenty of people were not terrified by his flashy entrance at all. Instead of screaming and fleeing, they were whipping out their phones and filming like crazy.
After all, these were world weary American citizens. They had seen their fair share of supernatural events. Their entire worldview had already been reborn in fire. Their first instinct when they ran into something like this was to get photos and video as fast as possible, then rush to post them on Twitter and every video platform they could find, all to gain a few more followers. They had fully mastered the art of the car-crash selfie.
And because this time the "supernatural phenomenon" in question happened to be especially cute, they might even harvest extra likes and have something to brag about to their friends.
While the crowd was entertaining themselves with this thought, Pendragon's pretty brows knit together. He raised his hand.
"Oh!"
"What?"
"F**k!"
"Ehhhh?"
The Americans who were filming like mad suddenly felt their phones slip from their control. The devices tore free from their hands and shot up over their heads.
Crunch. Crunch.
As Pendragon closed his fingers, smooth LCD screens and phone bodies alike deformed, compressing into neat little spheres that rained down onto the pavement.
"Hmph."
His ahoge flicked to the side. Pendragon walked between the two terrified doormen and stepped into the hotel's wide, luxuriously decorated lobby.
He did not know much about interior design. He only knew that this lobby felt expensive. On the right side of the front desk, two oddly shaped rocks formed a small artificial mountain with a fountain.
The two young, pretty white receptionists had no idea what had just happened outside. They greeted Pendragon with professional smiles and spoke a string of English.
"Hello, can I help you," that sort of set phrase. Probably the hotel's standard script, the equivalent of asking whether he wanted to "eat or stay the night."
Pendragon's English level was about on par with his old middle school teacher's, except he had no idea when she had quietly refunded all his tuition.
Under those circumstances, even simple sentences barely made half sense to him.
"Chotto matte."
Pendragon rummaged through the two pockets on his skirt and fished out an old button sized micro translator.
"Get me a room."
He addressed the foreign receptionist in perfectly standard Chinese.
Some strange frequency linked directly to his brain, then radiated outward as an electromagnetic wave.
The earpiece translator in Pendragon's ear glowed with a faint digital light. In the blink of an eye it finished its self check and startup sequence and settled into stable operation.
Suddenly he could understand the English in his field of vision. At the same time, the receptionist seemed not to notice that he was speaking Chinese at all. She simply understood him.
"Of course, miss. Do you have a reservation?"
"No."
"All right, then please take a look at our prices."
Pendragon did not even glance at the sheet she pulled out.
"Give me the cheapest, I mean, the most expensive room you have."
"Certainly. May I see your ID…"
Her sentence cut off halfway. Her green eyes lost focus and her expression went slack as she stared at Pendragon.
The soft carpet underfoot was woven with intricate, elegant patterns. Each step sank in with a sensation like walking on clouds. The furniture style and placement had clearly been done with care. The sheer size of the room and the warm, opulent lighting fully lived up to the name "presidential suite."
He had never expected the fantasy from his previous life to be realized this easily.
Pendragon sent the hypnotized receptionist back downstairs to work. He took a deep, satisfied breath of the rich air, locked the door behind him, and walked inside.
He had just transmigrated. He had no money. The only ID in his possession was a spaceship pilot's license. For now, the only way he could maintain a certain standard of living was to rely on hypnosis.