The night sky above Earth was quiet — too quiet.
Fifteen-year-old Lycas sat by his window, his computer screen still glowing with the fantasy RPG he had just finished. He sighed. "If only life was like that... swords, quests, and magic."
As he shut his eyes, a faint light shimmered on his desk. His mouse started glowing—then his entire room.
Before he could move, a circle of strange symbols appeared beneath his feet.
"Chosen one… lend us your strength…" a voice whispered through the light.
Lycas barely had time to gasp before the world vanished.
When he opened his eyes again, he was lying on the ground. The sky above him burned crimson and gold, and the air smelled fresh, wild, and unfamiliar.He sat up, dizzy, staring at rolling hills and thick forests stretching to the horizon.
His clothes were no longer modern — he wore a rough linen shirt, dark trousers, and leather boots that looked handmade. The ground beneath him was warm, the grass thick and strange.
Lycas stood, brushing off dust. "Where… am I?" he murmured. His voice sounded small against the vast, silent landscape.There was no city in sight. No people. Only the sound of the wind moving through the trees.
He took a hesitant step forward, then another. The sun hung low in the sky, and a flock of winged creatures—too large to be birds—moved across the horizon.Lycas felt his heartbeat steady.
He didn't know how he had arrived here, or what had brought him—but something deep inside told him one thing:
He was no longer on Earth.
And this world… was waiting for him.