The world Armand had known collapsed in an instant. A malfunctioning machine, a misconnected cable, and suddenly—nothingness. His final thoughts were a jumble of algorithms and human regrets: "Too much work, too much coffee, too little time…" And then, nothing.
He should have died. But he did not. A strange warmth spread through his body, as if every cell were reignited with an unfamiliar spark. When he opened his eyes, the sky was no longer the monotone gray of the modern city, but a deep, endless blue. Floating clouds glimmered, luminous, dancing with the rhythm of a wind his senses perceived for the first time.
The ground beneath him was not cold and concrete, but soft and alive, covered with grass of an almost supernatural green, dotted with flowers that seemed to glow like tiny lanterns.
Armand sat up, senses alert. His hands… they were real. No plastic, no metal—just human hands, yet unnervingly alive. And yet, an invisible energy flowed through him: a force he had never felt or seen before, resonating with his scientific mind like a strange but familiar vibration.
"Where… am I?" he whispered, his voice trembling, strange in this silent world.
A figure approached, fluid and light. A woman dressed in a robe that shimmered and shifted, woven from light and shadow as if it contained the entire sky, stared at him with piercing eyes. "You are not from here," she said with cold certainty. "And yet… you have arrived."
Armand shivered, but not with the fear he knew. He had long known the thrill of the unknown, in handling complex machines, lines of code, or unstable circuits. No, this fear was different: it was the fear of a world where human logic and science were alien, where magic, unseen but omnipresent, ruled all.
He stood slowly, observing every detail around him. The trees seemed to bend toward him, as if greeting or judging him. Stones glimmered faintly, as if they were alive. Birds, familiar yet strange, sang in patterns almost deliberate, yet infused with light and magic. Every breath of wind carried a new fragrance, a mixture of damp earth and unknown essences, vibrating to a rhythm Armand, a scientist, could not yet comprehend.
"Who… are you?" he finally asked, his voice steadier than he expected.
The woman tilted her head, assessing every micro-expression on his face. "I am Syra, a mage of the Council of Arcanes. And you… are an intruder in the natural order of Aelyth."
"An intruder…?" Armand repeated, a glimmer of defiance in his eyes. "I… I don't even know how I got here. I mean no harm."
Syra regarded him, eyes wary yet tinged with curiosity. "It does not matter. The world of magic has no need for your inventions, your machines. Here, scientific knowledge is dangerous."
Armand took a deep breath. He could feel the magical flow coursing through his veins, resonating with his logic and creativity. An idea surfaced almost involuntarily: if magic could be understood and manipulated, perhaps it could be merged with science. This world was not simply magical—it was a system, with rules, flows, and invariants. And like any system, it could be analyzed and altered.
Testing his intuition, he extended a hand toward a glowing stone nearby. Without touching it, he visualized a magnetic field pattern, a structure familiar from his previous life. To his surprise, the stone vibrated slowly, responding to his intention.
Syra stepped back, eyes wide. "You… you feel the magical flow, yet… you control it in a way…," she seemed to search for words, but fell silent. "It is forbidden."
Armand smiled faintly. "Perhaps… or perhaps it is simply another law of nature that no one has yet understood."
The silence that followed was heavy with potential. Every second in this new world reinforced a certainty: he could create, invent, and perhaps rewrite the very rules of this world.
Syra still watched him warily, now with an edge of intrigue. "If you remain here, you will have to learn our laws… or suffer from your ignorance."
Armand nodded. "Then teach me. But I will not remain passive. I must understand, experiment… create."
A warm wind passed between them, and Armand felt his first connection to this world—a fragile yet promising link. He breathed deeply, letting the sensation infuse him. Here, he was no longer simply an engineer. He was the Engineer of Lost Worlds. And the road ahead would be long, filled with dangers, discoveries, and ethical dilemmas: how far could he push his inventions without bringing chaos to a world where magic and tradition reigned supreme?
As the sun slowly descended behind distant mountains, Armand observed the silhouettes of a village far away. Thatched roofs, smoke rising from chimneys, tiny figures moving about. Every detail sparked his scientific curiosity: how could they survive without machines? How did magic regulate their daily lives?
His hands tingled. "I must see…" he murmured. And silently, he began walking toward the village, aware that his first steps would be watched by unseen, powerful eyes. He already sensed the imminent tension between science and magic, the latent conflict that would define his existence in this world.
The wind picked up, almost as a warning. But Armand did not flinch. For the first time in years, he felt the pure thrill of possibility: he would explore a world where anything could happen, where the laws he knew were both a weapon and a risk.
In the distance, a light twinkled atop a hill. Armand knew instinctively that it was not natural. It pulsed like a signal—an invitation, or perhaps a warning. He had yet to understand the full rules of this world, but he knew one thing: he had not arrived here by accident. His reincarnation had a purpose. A purpose he would discover… and perhaps redefine.