City lights shimmered like scattered stars against the night sky. Haruto stood by the window, phone pressed to his ear, the cool glass brushing his knuckles.
"So… you will not be returning this week, sister?" His voice stayed composed, but a faint disappointment threaded through.
A quiet pause.
"I'm really sorry… Something urgent came up at work."
He exhaled softly, fingers brushing through his hair. "I assumed as much. Just ensure you do not exhaust yourself."
"I won't… Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
The call ended with a soft beep. Silence settled over the room. He set the phone down, his gaze shifting to the piles of books and open notes waiting on his desk.
Another long night.
He sat, lifted his pen, and began. Pages flipped. Ink scratched. Hours slipped past until his alarm buzzed against the wood, a dull vibration through his arm.
He leaned back, rubbing his eyes as fatigue crept into his bones. His mind kept racing anyway.
"Five minutes," he murmured, folding his arms on the desk and letting his forehead rest there. "Just five…"
Sleep seized him immediately.
—
A voice.
Soft. Unfamiliar.
"I found you."
His eyes snapped open.
The warm city glow—gone. His desk—gone.
Instead, towering trees surrounded him. The air was cool, damp. The scent of moss and wet earth clung to his skin. Leaves rustled in a distant breeze.
He pushed himself upright, fingertips brushing rough soil. His pulse stayed steady, but pressure tightened in his stomach.
He blinked once. Twice. No change.
Think.
Dream? Too vivid.
Hallucination? No dizziness. No distortion. Sharp clarity.
"This is… real," he whispered, breath fogging faintly in the cold air.
The acceptance settled heavily in his chest.
Priorities: assess danger. Locate civilization. Determine the cause of displacement.
As he scanned the forest, a faint glow caught his eye. He crouched.
A small plant. Deep blue petals. A pool of shimmering liquid gathered beneath it.
His brows narrowed. He touched the stem lightly—cool, smooth, firm.
I know over four hundred thousand plant species… This isn't one of them.
His gaze sharpened.
Unfamiliar sky. Unfamiliar flora. Unfamiliar air.
This wasn't Earth.
A chill slid down his spine.
"Analysis complete."
He stiffened. The voice was calm. Mechanical.
"Plant: Saphiris. Classification: Medicinal. Secretes high-purity blue liquid capable of accelerating cell regeneration. Effective upon contact. Potency stable even when removed from the plant. Possible side effect: mild numbness. High medicinal value."
His fingers twitched.
"Who speaks?" His tone hardened—still level, but edged with quiet command.
A short pause.
"I am [Unique Skill: Azara]. Granted upon your entry into this world. I exist to assist with analysis, strategy, and adaptation."
His heartbeat remained steady. His mind adjusted instantly.
A skill. A system.
This world was real.
—WHOOSH.
Wind blasted through the forest. Branches whipped violently. Leaves tore free and spiraled upward.
Haruto's head snapped toward the sky.
A shadow glided across the moon. Massive wings. White scales reflecting silver light. Golden eyes blazing like molten metal.
A dragon.
His muscles tightened. It was descending. Fast.
FWOOOOOSH!
White flames erupted from above, blindingly bright. Heat slammed toward him, scorching the air.
He moved without hesitation—snatching the Saphiris plant and sprinting toward the trees.
BOOOOOOM!
White fire consumed the ground behind him, shaking the earth. Dirt and splinters blasted past his legs.
Not ideal.
He weaved between trunks, letting the dense forest swallow him. Flames roared behind him, painting the night in violent light.
Why is it attacking? What triggered this?
No time.
Survive first.
Above, the dragon circled, golden eyes cutting through the shadows.
I require a strategy. Immediately.
He inhaled sharply, footing steady, mind calculating even as the forest burned behind him.