Haruto wakes up choking on color.
Not air. Color. Specifically purple. A shade of purple that doesn't exist on Earth—too luminous, too present, like the color itself has mass and weight and is currently pressing against his eyeballs with the insistence of a migraine.
He gasps. Coughs. Rolls onto his side and vomits nothing because his stomach has been empty for sixteen hours.
The dry heaving lasts thirty seconds. Then forty-five. His diaphragm spasms so hard he thinks something inside might tear. His throat burns. His eyes water. His hands scrabble against—
Not tatami.
Not his floor.
Stone. Cold. Smooth. Unnatural.
〈Where—〉
The thought fractures before completing. His brain isn't working right. Too much input. Too many signals firing at once. His visual cortex trying to process shapes that shouldn't be shapes. His inner ear screaming that up and down have inverted. His proprioception insisting his body is simultaneously lying down and falling.
He presses his forehead against the stone. Solid. Cold. Real. Ground. Here.
Breathe.
Three seconds in—he chokes.
Hold—he can't.
Three seconds out—he's hyperventilating.
The breathing technique doesn't work. Nothing works. Because the breathing technique was designed for panic attacks in his room. In his safe 4.5 tatami mats. Not… wherever this is.
〈Okay. Okay okay okay. Think. What happened?〉
He was in his room. Counting ceiling stains. Then the world—no, not the world, something else—something his brain refused to process—and then falling-not-falling and then—
Here.
Wherever here is.
Haruto forces his eyes open. Immediately regrets it.
The sky is wrong.
Not storm-wrong or sunset-wrong. Fundamentally, cosmically wrong. Purple nebulae swirl across a void so black it hurts to look at. Stars that are too bright and too close pulse with colors that don't belong in nature. Three moons—THREE—hang at different phases simultaneously, and one of them is bleeding. Actually bleeding. Crimson streams drip upward from its surface into the void.
Haruto:[…nope.]
He closes his eyes again. Better. Darkness is familiar. Darkness is safe. He can deal with darkness.
But he can't block out the sound.
There's a hum. Low. Resonant. Like standing next to industrial machinery but organic somehow. Like the world itself is breathing. Like—
〈Don't think about it. Don't process it. Just… survive the next thirty seconds.〉
His therapist's voice echoes in his head: "When overwhelmed, narrow your focus. One sense at a time."
Touch: Stone beneath him. Cold. Slightly damp. Carved with patterns he can feel but can't see.
Smell: Ozone. Copper. Something floral that makes his sinuses burn.
Taste: Bile. Blood from biting his cheek during the—transportation? Abduction? Whatever that was.
Hearing: The hum. Wind that sounds like whispers. Distant… is that chanting?
Sight: He's keeping that one closed for now.
Thirty seconds pass.
He's still alive.
That's… something.
〈Okay. Assessment. I'm not dead. I'm not in my room. I'm somewhere with purple sky and three moons and stone floors. I'm either having a psychotic break or—〉
The alternative is worse than psychosis. Because if this is real—if he's really somewhere else—then everything he knows about physics and biology and the fundamental nature of existence just became obsolete.
He'd almost prefer the psychotic break.
Almost.
Haruto opens his eyes again. Keeps them focused down. On the stone. Not the sky. Not the moons. Not the bleeding moon that defies thermodynamics by having liquid flow upward.
The stone is intricately carved. Patterns that look like writing but aren't any language he recognizes. Symbols that shift slightly when he's not looking directly at them. Geometric shapes that create optical illusions, making the flat surface appear three-dimensional.
He's lying in the center of what appears to be a massive circular platform. The pattern radiates outward from where he landed. Thirty meters in diameter. Maybe forty. Hard to judge distance when your depth perception is broken by alien geometry.
Beyond the platform: nothing.
Literally nothing.
A void.
The platform just… ends. Suspended in the purple-black void like a floating island. No support structure. No chains. No pillars. Just stone defying gravity because apparently gravity is optional here.
Haruto:[This is fine. This is totally fine. I'm fine.]
He is not fine.
His heart rate is approaching aerobic exercise levels. His hands won't stop shaking. His breathing is shallow and rapid. Classic panic attack symptoms. But underneath the panic is something else. Something quieter. Colder.
Curiosity.
The same part of him that counted ceiling stains to find patterns. That read fantasy light novels to understand trope mechanics. That analyzed escape room puzzles for optimal routes. That part of his brain is currently cataloging everything despite the panic.
Observation 1: Platform is definitely magical. Nothing structural supporting it.
Observation 2: The carved symbols glow faintly. Not electrical. Some kind of… mana?
Observation 3: Air temperature is wrong. Should be cold this high up (assuming altitude). It's pleasantly warm. Artificially maintained?
Observation 4: I'm breathing. Air exists here. Composition seems normal-ish.
Observation 5: Gravity exists. Approximately Earth-normal. Maybe slightly lighter?
Observation 6: I'm still wearing my clothes. Sweatpants and hoodie transported with me. Interesting.
Observation 7: No visible threats. Yet.
That last one is important. Because every isekai story he's ever read involves immediate danger. Monster attack. Demon lord army. Hostile environment. The protagonist gets powers to deal with it.
Haruto has no powers.
Zero.
Nada.
He's a seventeen-year-old shut-in with untreated anxiety and three months of muscle atrophy from not leaving his room. His cardio is nonexistent. His strength is pathetic. His combat experience is watching anime.
If something attacks him, he dies.
Simple math.
The thought should terrify him more than it does. Maybe he's too overwhelmed for additional fear. Maybe his nervous system finally hit its limit and shut down the alarm bells. Or maybe—
A sound.
Footsteps.
Haruto's head snaps toward the noise. His body moves on instinct—scrambling backward, pressing against the stone, making himself small. Defensive posture learned from months of… before.
The footsteps are approaching from the edge of the platform. From the void. Which should be impossible because there's nothing there, but apparently impossibility is relative now.
A figure emerges.
Not walking. Rising. Like the void itself is birthing them upward through the platform's edge.
They're tall. Easily two meters. Covered head to toe in robes that are simultaneously white and every other color. The fabric shifts hue depending on viewing angle. Physics-defying textile.
Their face is hidden behind a mask. Smooth. Featureless. Porcelain-white except for a single symbol etched across the forehead. The symbol writhes. Changes. Haruto's eyes start to water when he tries to focus on it.
The figure stops three meters away.
Silence.
Haruto's heartbeat fills his ears. His mouth is desert-dry. His hands are numb. Every instinct screams RUN except there's nowhere to run. The platform has one exit: the void. And he's not testing whether humans can fly here.
The figure tilts its head. Studying him. The gesture is eerily human despite the inhuman appearance.
Then it speaks.
Not in Japanese. Not in English. Not in any language Haruto recognizes. The sounds are—wrong. Like language processed through a broken translator. Consonants that hurt his throat to hear. Vowels that make his teeth ache.
But somehow, impossibly, he understands.
Not the words. The meaning. Like the intention is being transmitted directly into his brain, bypassing language entirely.
『Observer』『Hollow』『Unauthorized』
Those three concepts slam into Haruto's consciousness. Not spoken. Transmitted. And with them comes… judgment? Confusion? Concern?
The figure's emotional state is unclear.
What is clear: Haruto shouldn't be here.
Haruto:[I—]
His voice cracks. He swallows. Tries again.
Haruto:[I don't know where "here" is. I didn't… I didn't choose this. I was just in my room and then—]
The figure raises one hand. The gesture is universal: stop.
More concepts flow into Haruto's brain:
『Explain』『Origin』『Method』
It's asking how he got here. Except "asking" implies a question, and this feels more like a demand. Like his answer determines whether he survives the next sixty seconds.
Haruto's mind races. What does he say? The truth sounds insane. He was in his room, reality hiccupped, and suddenly he's here. That's not an explanation. That's not even a coherent sentence.
But lying seems worse.
〈Okay. Truth. Simple truth. No embellishment.〉
Haruto:[I was in my room. In Japan. On Earth. I don't know what happened. Something… broke? Reality—no, not reality, something else—it fractured. I saw something I can't explain. Then I was falling. Then I was here. I didn't cast a spell. I don't have magic. I don't know where this is or how I got here or what—]
The figure's hand moves again. Cutting him off.
『Impossible』『No Anchor』『No Resonance』『Void-touched』
Those concepts hurt more than the others. Especially that last one. 『Void-touched』. It feels… significant. Important. Like a title or designation that carries weight.
The figure circles him. Slowly. Studying. Haruto forces himself to stay still. Making sudden movements around predators is bad. And this person—entity? being?—is definitely a predator. The way they move. The way the air seems to thicken around them. The way Haruto's hindbrain screams DANGER even though they haven't done anything overtly threatening.
After a full circle, the figure stops. Faces him directly.
Then removes the mask.
Haruto immediately wishes they hadn't.
The face underneath isn't human. Isn't anything. It's a void. A hole in space shaped like a face. Except the void has eyes. Hundreds of them. Different sizes. Different colors. All staring at him simultaneously.
Haruto:[gKH—]
He bites down on the sound trying to escape his throat. Swallows it. Forces his eyes to stay open even though every survival instinct says LOOK AWAY.
Because looking away shows weakness. And weakness is death. He knows this. Learned it the hard way.
The void-face tilts again. The hundreds of eyes blink in sequence. Creating a wave pattern across the not-face.
Then it speaks. Actually speaks this time. In Japanese.
[Void-Faced Entity]: Fascinating. You perceive. Most do not.
The voice is wrong. Too many layers. Like several people speaking in perfect unison. Male and female and neither and both. Young and old and timeless.
Haruto doesn't answer. Can't. His vocal cords have forgotten their function.
[Void-Faced Entity]: You should not exist here, 『Hollow One』. This place is 『The Threshold』. The boundary between what was and what will be. Only those who carry 『Resonance』 may enter. Yet here you are. Resonanceless. Anchorless. Touched by the 『Between』.
The entity crouches. Brings its void-face closer. Haruto can smell something. Ozone and rot and starlight—smells that shouldn't combine but do.
[Void-Faced Entity]: Tell me, child. When the world broke, what did you see?
〈What did I see?〉
That's the question, isn't it? Haruto saw something. Something his brain refused to process. Something that doesn't fit into language or memory or coherent thought.
But the entity is waiting. And honesty seems like the only currency he has.
Haruto:[I… I don't know. I can't describe it. It wasn't a thing. It wasn't anything. It was—]
He stops. Because words are failing. How do you describe witnessing something that exists outside description?
[Void-Faced Entity]: Yes. Precisely. You witnessed 『That Which Cannot Be Named』. The space between spaces. The gap in the weave. Most who see it die instantly. Their minds cannot contain the paradox. Yet you survived. Damaged, perhaps. Fractured, certainly. But alive.
The entity stands. Turns away. Gazes out at the void.
[Void-Faced Entity]: This complicates matters. You are an anomaly. A foreign element in a closed system. The 『Lattice』 will attempt to correct you. To erase you. To return equilibrium. You have perhaps… three days? Maybe four if you're clever.
Haruto:[Wait—what? Erase me? What does that even—]
[Void-Faced Entity]: The world has rules, 『Hollow One』. Physics. Metaphysics. Laws written into the fundamental fabric. You violate those laws by existing here. Without 『Resonance』, without 『Anchor』, you are a glitch. An error. The system will debug itself. This is not malice. Simply… correction.
The casual way it says "erase" like it's describing file deletion instead of murder makes Haruto's blood run cold.
Haruto:[So I'm just—I'm going to die? In three days? Because I'm a "glitch"?]
[Void-Faced Entity]: Correct. Unless.
That word hangs in the air. Heavy. Promising.
Haruto:[Unless… what?]
The entity turns back. The hundreds of eyes focus on him again.
[Void-Faced Entity]: Unless you find an 『Anchor』. A connection to this world's framework. Something that gives you permission to exist within the 『Lattice』. Without it, you will fade. Not violently. Not painfully. You will simply… stop. Cease to be remembered. As though you never arrived.
〈The world will forget me. Erase me from existence. Not even a corpse left behind.〉
The panic returns. Full force. Because dying is one thing. Dying of starvation or exposure or violence—those make sense. But this? Being systematically deleted by cosmic error correction? That's a special kind of horror.
Haruto:[How do I find an Anchor? Where do I even start?]
[Void-Faced Entity]: That is not my concern. I am merely 『The Watcher』. I observe. Record. I do not interfere. Your survival is… tangential to my purpose.
The entity replaces its mask. The void-face disappears behind porcelain, and Haruto can breathe again. Slightly.
[Void-Faced Entity]: However. A gift. For curiosity's sake.
The Watcher gestures. The symbols carved into the platform flare bright. Blinding. Haruto shields his eyes. When the light fades, there's something new on the ground beside him.
A small crystalline object. Roughly the size and shape of a compass. Except instead of cardinal directions, it has symbols. Rotating. Shifting.
[Void-Faced Entity]: A 『Path-Keeper』. It will guide you to the nearest settlement. From there… you must find your own way. Or don't. Either outcome serves my observation.
Haruto:[Wait—don't leave—I have questions—where am I? What is this world? What's an Anchor? How do I—]
But The Watcher is already sinking back into the void. Descending through the platform's edge as though the stone is liquid.
[Void-Faced Entity]: Three days, 『Hollow One』. Perhaps four. Use them wisely.
And then it's gone.
Haruto is alone.
On a floating platform in a purple void with three moons and a countdown to existence-erasure.
He stares at the spot where The Watcher vanished. Then at the crystalline compass. Then at the impossible sky.
Then he does what any rational person would do in this situation:
He laughs.
Not joyful laughter. Hysterical laughter. The kind that borders on sobbing. Because of course. Of COURSE this is how his isekai experience goes. No cheat skills. No goddess blessing. No protagonist powers. Just a glitch notification and a three-day deadline before the universe deletes him.
The laughter lasts maybe thirty seconds before dissolving into shaky breathing.
〈Okay. Okay. Think. Process.〉
Facts:
• He's in another world. Confirmed. No longer speculation.
• Magic exists here. The symbols, the floating platform, The Watcher—all proof.
• He has zero magical ability. The Watcher confirmed it. "Resonanceless."
• He will die in three days unless he finds an "Anchor."
• He has a compass-thing that apparently leads to civilization.
• He is completely, utterly, catastrophically unprepared for any of this.
Haruto picks up the 『Path-Keeper』. It's warm. Alive somehow. The symbols rotate independently of each other, creating complex patterns. One symbol glows brighter than the others—pointing in a specific direction.
〈I guess that's where I'm supposed to go.〉
He looks in that direction. The void extends infinitely. No visible destination. Just purple-black nothing.
〈This is insane. This is absolutely insane. I should stay here. Staying on solid ground is logical. Walking into the void is suicide.〉
Except staying means dying in three days. Walking into the void means maybe dying today but possibly surviving.
Risk assessment: certain death versus probable death.
No contest.
Haruto stands on shaking legs. His body protests. Three months of atrophy making simple movement difficult. His knees threaten to buckle. His calves cramp. When's the last time he stood for more than bathroom trips?
〈Doesn't matter. Move.〉
He takes one step toward the edge. Then another. The platform doesn't collapse. Good start.
At the edge, he stops. Looks down. The void extends downward infinitely. No bottom. No nothing.
The 『Path-Keeper』 pulses in his hand. The glowing symbol pointing forward. Into the void.
〈There's no bridge. No path. Just void. How am I supposed to—〉
He tests it. Extends one foot out over the edge. Into empty space.
His foot hits something solid.
Invisible. But solid.
Haruto:[…of course. Invisible bridge. Why not.]
He tests it again. Puts weight on it. The invisible surface holds. Sturdy. Like glass except completely transparent.
〈I hate magic. I officially hate magic.〉
But hating magic doesn't change the situation. He either walks the invisible bridge or stays and gets erased.
Haruto takes a deep breath. Holds it. Steps fully onto the invisible path.
The platform disappears behind him. Into the void. Gone. Like it was never there.
No going back now.
He walks. One step at a time. Keeping his eyes on the 『Path-Keeper』 instead of the infinite drop beneath him. The invisible bridge continues forward. Sometimes it curves. Sometimes it slopes upward or downward. But it's always there. Solid beneath his feet even though his eyes insist he's walking on nothing.
Minutes pass. Or hours. Time feels wrong here. Elastic. His phone is dead. No way to check. The three moons don't move. The stars don't shift. Just eternal purple twilight.
His legs start to ache. Then burn. Then scream. His cardio is terrible. His muscles are atrophied. Every step becomes harder. But stopping means looking down. Looking down means seeing the infinite void. Seeing the void means panic. Panic means mistakes. Mistakes mean falling.
So he doesn't stop.
〈Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Don't think. Just move. Survival mode.〉
His mind drifts. Dissociating slightly. A defense mechanism. When physical pain becomes too much, the brain checks out.
He thinks about his mother. Probably noticed he's gone by now. The dinner tray still outside his door. Uneaten hamburg steak growing cold. She'll knock. No answer. She'll wait. Then worry. Then panic. Then call the police. They'll break down his door. Empty room. No note. No body. Just gone.
〈Will she think I ran away? Or worse?〉
The thought hurts more than his burning legs.
He thinks about Kenji and Yuki. His former friends. They'll hear eventually. "That weird kid who dropped out disappeared." They'll feel guilty for about a week. Then forget. Move on. That's how it works.
He thinks about his ceiling stains. Forty-seven of them. Iceland. Greenland. All the ones he named. Someone else will rent that apartment eventually. Paint over the stains. Erase them. Like they never existed.
Like he never existed.
〈Three days. I have three days to matter. To find an Anchor. To prove I deserve to exist here.〉
The 『Path-Keeper』 pulses. More urgent now. The glowing symbol brightening.
Ahead—finally—something appears in the void.
Light.
Not moons or stars. Artificial light. Electric? Magical? Can't tell from this distance. But light means civilization. Means people. Means possible answers.
Means possible danger.
Haruto forces his exhausted legs to move faster. The invisible bridge slopes downward now. Descending toward the light source. As he gets closer, details emerge.
A city.
Not floating. Built into—onto?—the void itself. Impossible architecture. Buildings that defy gravity. Streets that spiral in three dimensions. Bridges connecting structures at angles that make his eyes hurt. And at the center, something massive. A cathedral? A palace? Hard to tell. But it glows. Pulses. Like a heartbeat.
The 『Path-Keeper』 points directly at it.
Haruto's foot touches solid ground. Actual ground. Stone streets. Normal streets that don't require faith to walk on.
He collapses.
Not dramatically. Just sits. Heavily. His legs finally giving out.
〈I made it. Step one complete. Don't die on invisible bridge: success.〉
The city stretches out before him. Empty streets near the outskirts. But deeper in, he can see movement. Figures. People? Maybe. Too far to tell.
The cathedral-palace thing dominates the skyline. Impossible to miss. Impossible to ignore.
That's where he needs to go. The 『Path-Keeper』 makes that clear.
But first: rest. Just thirty seconds. Let his heart rate normalize. Let his legs stop screaming. Let his brain process the last hour of impossibility.
Thirty seconds.
Then he'll figure out how a powerless shut-in survives in a magical world that's actively trying to erase him.
Thirty seconds.
〈Just thirty seconds. Then I'll move. I promise. Just… thirty…〉
His eyes drift closed.
Just for a moment.