On a day that seemed no different from any other, Lance walked home from school alongside his friends, their laughter echoing through the streets. Nothing hinted that this ordinary afternoon would become the turning point of his life.
Without warning, the fabric of space itself tore open before them.
From the rift emerged a magnificent golden chariot, radiant and otherworldly, drawn by four white horses that looked as though they had galloped straight out of legend. The air grew heavy, and before anyone could react, an irresistible force seized Lance and his friends, pulling them toward the chariot.
Then—darkness shattered into light.
They were hurled through a blinding gateway, their screams swallowed by the roaring void. When the light finally faded, Lance found himself alone.
The journey had scattered them.
He stood in the heart of a vast, desolate forest—silent, ancient, and suffocating. Every step he took felt heavier than the last, his chest tightening with fear and confusion. Then, suddenly, his foot struck something solid.
A skull.
A human skull.
A scream tore from his throat as he stumbled backward, falling hard against the cold ground. Panic seized him. He scrambled to his feet and ran—blindly, desperately—only to find himself drifting deeper into the forest's suffocating darkness instead of escaping it.
It was then he saw it.
An ancient structure stood ahead, worn by time and cloaked in silence. It exuded the weight of centuries, as though it had witnessed countless forgotten stories. With nowhere else to go, Lance stepped inside.
The air within was thick with dust and stillness.
As he tried to steady his breathing, something strange happened.
Before his eyes, faint lines of light gathered on the ground, forming words—clear, precise, and impossible.
[System]
Name: Lance
Primary Ability: Between Worlds (Inactive)
Secondary Ability: None
Souls: 0
Soul Sacrifice: 0
Resurrection: 0
Domain: None
Lance stared, frozen between disbelief and awe.
"Between Worlds… inactive?" he whispered.
But before he could make sense of it, a monstrous scream shattered the silence.
It wasn't human.
His body moved before his mind could react. He rushed toward a nearby window and peered outside—only to see a massive creature chasing three armed figures toward the building.
Adventurers.
Panic surged again. Lance quickly withdrew and fled upstairs, slipping into a room and shutting himself inside.
There, in the dim light, he found something that made his breath catch.
A skeleton.
Not just any skeleton—but that of a warrior, long dead. Beside it lay a sword, still gleaming despite the passage of time, and a black cloak untouched by decay.
With trembling hands, Lance took them.
The cloak settled over his shoulders like a shadow, and the sword felt cold yet strangely steady in his grip.
He wasn't ready—but he had no choice.
Slowly, he stepped back into the hallway.
He had barely taken a few steps when a sudden chill froze him in place.
An arrow.
He could feel its sharp tip hovering just behind his head.
"For a moment," a voice said mockingly from the shadows, "I thought you ran away."
Lance swallowed hard.
"You're still here."
The others turned, their expressions shifting as they saw him—a boy, no more than fourteen, holding an ancient blade.
"Who are you?" one of them demanded. "And what are you doing in a place like this?"
"I'm… Lance," he replied, forcing his voice to remain steady. "Just a boy who got lost in this forest."
It wasn't a lie.
But it wasn't the truth either.
The leader of the group studied him for a moment before raising a hand. "Lower your weapon," he ordered the archer.
Reluctantly, the arrow was withdrawn.
"Sit," another voice said. "You're one of us now."
Lance hesitated—but only for a moment.
"And who are you?" he asked.
The leader smirked. "Shane. They call me the Trickster." He gestured to the others. "That's Thanatos—the armored brute. And Chris—the one who nearly put an arrow through your skull."
Chris said nothing.
Shane's gaze sharpened. "Tell me, Lance… what's your ability?"
The question struck deeper than expected.
Lance hesitated, then chose caution over honesty. "I don't have one. I'm just… a beginner. No real training."
A lie.
But a necessary one.
Shane's smirk widened. "Good enough. You can come with us—and learn along the way."
That night, while the others rested, Lance trained.
Under Shane's watchful eye, every movement was corrected, every mistake punished with repetition. Hours passed. Muscles burned. Breath faltered.
But Lance endured.
Because he had to.
By morning, the four of them left the ancient structure behind, heading toward the forest's edge.
Along the way, curiosity got the better of him.
"Chris," Lance asked, "how did you know I was inside?"
"I didn't," Chris replied calmly. "My crow did."
Lance blinked.
"I see through it," Chris added. "From above."
Shane laughed. "Yet somehow, you missed that giant beast chasing you."
Chris shot him a glare. "Ogres hide in caves. My crow doesn't see through rock."
Thanatos spoke, his voice heavy. "And that wasn't just any ogre."
Lance frowned. "What's an ogre?"
Silence fell.
The three stopped walking.
They turned to him slowly, their expressions shifting into something between disbelief… and suspicion.
Shane narrowed his eyes. "Is this your first time outside?"
Lance froze. "I mean—I'm only fourteen, and—"
CLANG.
The sound cut him off.
Steel met steel.
From the shadows, five figures emerged.
Weapons drawn.
Eyes cold.
An ambush.
And just like that—
Lance's new life truly began.