The world flipped upside down in a single instant. Literally.
Izayoi Sakamaki was accustomed to trusting his instincts, and when a strange letter invited him to leave his familiar reality, he accepted the challenge without hesitation. Not to escape, but to explore. However, what was happening now went beyond any predictions.
He was falling.
Beneath him, at an unthinkable depth, lay a panorama that defied the laws of physics: a gigantic world under an artificial dome—the "Little Garden" mentioned in the invitation.
"Curious topology," Izayoi muttered, analyzing wind speed and gravitational disturbances. "A planetary-scale artificial environment? Not bad."
He had already begun calculating a trajectory to land in a lake to dampen his inertia when the space beneath him shuddered.
It didn't look like teleportation. It looked as though reality itself had cracked. A black rift, exuding an ancient, heavy energy, opened directly in his path, obscuring the view of the Little Garden.
"Third-party interference?" Izayoi's eyes narrowed, a spark of excitement flaring within them. "Or did someone decide to change the rules of the game on the fly?"
He had no time to maneuver. The rift swallowed him, and the sensation of falling was replaced by total disorientation. Gravity shifted its vector; pressure spiked. His body instantly reconfigured itself to adapt to the new conditions, but impact was inevitable.
He didn't slam into the ground, but into stone. A dull, heavy thud echoed under the vaults, and a cloud of age-old dust billowed upward.
Silence. Only the rustle of settling dust disturbed the peace of this place.
Izayoi rose, lazily dusting off his blazer. Not a scratch. His body could have withstood a far rougher landing, but his clothes had suffered, which caused a flicker of irritation. He adjusted the headphones around his neck and, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets, looked around.
It was an ancient chamber. Vaulted ceilings, columns covered in carvings, the smell of stagnant air. The architecture resembled a blend of antique temples and something far more archaic, forgotten by history.
"A tomb? Or perhaps a forgotten temple?" His gaze swept along the walls. "Judging by the layer of dust, the cleaning lady quit a couple of centuries ago."
He walked to the center of the hall. There stood a statue of a winged woman holding a book. And the moment Izayoi stepped closer, the air around him changed.
The stone of the statue began to exude a soft but intense golden light. The space filled with a strange heaviness—not physical, but atmospheric. It seemed the air itself became thick, saturated with some unknown energy that would have choked an ordinary human.
"Oho, special effects?" Izayoi scoffed, looking at the glow. "So the security system is working after all."
The golden light condensed at the pedestal, and from it, as if woven from rays and memory, a silhouette manifested.
It was a woman in white robes. Her form was translucent, ethereal, yet her face was distinct. A beautiful face, full of the quiet sorrow of someone who had left this world long ago.
Izayoi stopped, tilting his head slightly. He felt no threat. Before him stood not a guard, but rather a hologram. A recording. An echo.
The woman opened her eyes. Her gaze seemed to pierce right through him.
"Strange..." Her voice was quiet, like the rustling pages of an ancient tome. "The threads of fate gave no indication of your arrival. You are not from this era. And, it seems... not even from this world."
Izayoi smirked with the corner of his mouth. His posture remained relaxed, but his gaze was sharp.
"You've got pretty good eyesight for a ghost," he noted with a touch of irony. "Ten points for perceptiveness. My flight was indeed redirected without my consent. So, perhaps you could enlighten your guest as to where exactly I've ended up?"
The ghost smiled gently, but there was no joy of meeting in that smile, only deep melancholy.
"This place is a memory of the past. My final resting place," she said, looking at him with unexpected warmth. "And you... You are the harbinger of what I dreamed of. That power within you... it is astonishing. It is not borrowed from the gods; it bubbles within like a birthing star. You are living proof that the Era of Humans will come. The time when we cease to depend on the mercy of the heavens."
She took a step back, and the golden radiance around her began to dim. Her silhouette started to lose its definition, dissolving into the air.
"My role here is finished, child of stars. Seek the one who sees off the dead to their final journey. She is the only one who will understand the nature of your path... Farewell."
The light began to fade. The structure supporting her image was disintegrating. She had spoken her piece and now, obeying the laws of the universe, was departing into oblivion.
Izayoi raised an eyebrow. This was categorically unacceptable to him.
"Whoa there, easy," he threw out. "Did you seriously decide you could just drop a pretentious speech and vanish?"
The figure continued to melt away. She could no longer hear him in the conventional sense; the process of departure had become irreversible. For any inhabitant of this world, this would be the end. One cannot argue with the laws of nature.
Izayoi stepped forward.
"I didn't give permission for the audience to end," his voice held the authority of one who was used to the world revolving around them.
He closed the distance between them in an instant. Using no tricks, simply moving faster than reality could process.
His hand reached out toward the ghost's vanishing, translucent hand.
By all laws of logic, he should have grasped at the void. Light and memory have no density. But Izayoi Sakamaki existed outside of accepted logic. His very essence was the negation of the word "impossible." To him, there was no difference between matter and concept.
His fingers closed around her wrist.
He didn't squeeze hard, didn't try to cause pain. He simply "anchored" her existence. Forbade her from vanishing.
Flamme—the great mage whose ghost was preparing to dissolve into eternity—suddenly froze. The golden light, ready to die out, flared up once more. She looked with undisguised astonishment at her own hand, which was being held by the warm, living palm of a young man.
"Incredible..." she breathed, and the mask of age-old wisdom cracked, giving way to pure human shock. "You are touching a spiritual projection... physically? How is this possible?"
Izayoi didn't let her go. He looked her in the eyes with a challenge and genuine interest.
"My world had its share of 'impossible' things too, but I usually eat them for breakfast," he grinned, pleased with the effect he'd produced. "You called me the harbinger of the 'Era of Humans'? Great. But where I come from, humans usually explain the rules before they leave."
He loosened his grip slightly but didn't let go of her hand completely, making it clear that the conversation was far from over.
"So don't rush to dissolve, ghost. And explain why you look like you're burying the whole world. I have a ton of questions, and you are the only source of intel in this hole."