Albert's eyes snapped open and raised his upper body to an upright position. He looked around and saw he was in his personal room in the headquarters of Atlas Afghanistan.
Everything seemed to be in their place, like it wasn't touched by any being. Well, that's natural as no one would be able to enter his room without a keycard.
However, the dream he had, the Goddess Sylphie, a contract about stopping a demon race invasion, and a contract price of 500 billion dollars. All of them felt too real to him.
He remembered her last words before sending him to her world, but he's still here in his room. So it must be just a dream.
He rose to his feet and walked over to the nearby mirror to check whether he had been drinking too much.
He stared at his reflection and it was just him. Six-foot-tall, athletic build, blonde-hair, sharp jawline, and a handsome face.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.
"Commander Spencer!"
Spencer flickered his gaze to the door where a person was knocking.
"Commander Spencer, wake up! We have a situation!"
He knew whose voice it belonged to, it was from Robert Ward, his second-in-command, fellow ex Delta Force.
"What is it now?"
Spencer walked to the door and opened it.
Upon opening it, he saw Ward, about the same height as him, athletic build, black hair.
"What is it Ward?"
"Commander, you have to come with me on the roof," Ward said with a tone of urgency.
Spencer followed him out to the stairs leading to the rooftop, and upon arriving on the rooftop. His eyes widened as he took in a foreign sight.
Instead of sand dunes and scorching desert winds, the entire landscape that stretched before Albert Spencer was green. Endless green. Rolling fields, distant forests, a horizon crowned with mountain peaks dusted in snow. The air was crisp, cool, and impossibly clean — so clean it almost stung his lungs.
"What… the hell…" he muttered.
Ward's voice cut through the shock. "Commander, I think we're not in Afghanistan anymore."
Spencer turned to his right, scanning the skyline. The base that once stood amid barren dust was still there, Atlas Forward Operating Base Hanjar, it is the largest military installation rivaling the Korean US Base Camp Humphreys. It has everything! Runways, hangars, barracks, vehicle depots, communication towers—everything.
Then he recalled his dreams about his encounter with a Goddess. So all of it was true.
"What happened?" Spencer asked.
"Well, I was on my way back to this building until there's a huge pillar of lights surrounding the perimeter of the base. It was a blinding light that lasted for several seconds. After that, the surroundings have changed. It's crazy to hear but that's the truth. You can ask the men present during that phenomenon."
"How about our comms?"
"Comms are still intact within our forces but external, there's no luck. Even the satellites aren't responding," Ward continued grimly. "We've lost every uplink. GPS is gone, satellite imaging is dead, and the network backbone's giving static. Whatever just happened… it took us completely off the grid."
"Patch me through to Command Net," Spencer ordered.
Ward nodded and tapped his earpiece. "Command, this is Ward. Commander Spencer is on-site. Stand by to relay."
A faint crackle answered, followed by a man's voice. "Sir, this is the Operations Center. All major systems are green, but we've confirmed total signal blackout beyond our perimeter. No contact with NATO, CIA channels, or any global frequency. Radar sweep's active, but it's showing terrain unlike any database. We might not even be in the same hemisphere."
Spencer gave a slow exhale through his nose. "Keep the radar online and maintain constant visual recon. We need data. Deploy the drones."
"Copy that, relaying orders to Atlas Reconnaissance Drone Units."
"We have to get down there in the command center," Spencer said. "I need to have a clear view on what's going on."
"Good idea."
They both returned to the stairwell and descended from the rooftop.
As Spencer and Ward reached the ground level, one of the guards at the entrance saluted sharply.
"Commander, sir, Ops has your live feed from Recon Drone One ready."
"Good," Spencer replied, pushing through the main door into the command center.
The air inside was thick with chatter and electronic hum. Screens filled the room — topographical maps, radar displays, drone footage that was once online, gone. The walls were lined with operators at their stations, calling out telemetry, coordinates, and updates.
"Commander on deck!" someone barked, and immediately, the entire room stiffened to attention.
"At ease," Spencer said briskly. "What do we have?"
Keller, the operations chief, pointed at the main display. "To summarize, we don't know where we are. Our contacts outside had gone dark. As per your orders, an ISR Pred is currently being fueled and will be on air in two minutes."
"How about the men?"
"It'll take time to confirm if anyone is missing. I'd say about thirty minutes. All units are still reporting to their C.O."
"This is a shit-show Commander," Ward commented. "There's no way we are transported to another location, especially in that kind of way."
"I know, this is confusing everyone and even I am confused. Still, what we should do is to confirm if every unit we have is in this base and figure out where we are."
Well, Albert already knew where they were. They are in another world, sent by the Goddess. And it seemed that he was the only one who knew what's truly happening.
He'll confess later. But first, he needed certainty.
"Sir, the ISR Pred are on runway three and requesting clearance for takeoff," Keller reported, pressing his headset closer to his ear. "Engines are green, all systems nominal. They're awaiting your arrival."
"Clear them for launch. Have Drone Control run continuous surveillance once airborne—full visual and thermal sweeps up to a hundred klicks radius."
"Yes, sir," Keller acknowledged, relaying the order. "Predator One, you are clear for takeoff. Climb to fifteen thousand feet and begin recon pattern Alpha-One."
Through the reinforced windows of the command center, the deep rumble of the Predator drone's engines filled the air. The sleek gray craft began rolling down the runway, accelerating smoothly before lifting off into the sky.
"Stand by for live feed," Keller said.
A moment later, the central screen flickered to life, showing aerial footage of their surroundings.
"Jesus Christ," Ward muttered. "That's not the Middle East."
It definitely wasn't.
From the drone's camera, the barren sands of Afghanistan were gone, replaced by sprawling fields of green and thick forests that stretched to the horizon. Small rivers wound like silver veins through the terrain.
"There wasn't even a forest near us, so it's impossible if there is one now," Keller said.
This is the certainty that he needed.
"Keller, I want every unit reporting to Hangar 3. Except for the crew of the ISR Pred currently on tasking."
"Hangar 3? The C-5 Hangar? What are you planning to do?" Ward asked.
"I plan to brief our men of our situation," Spencer said. "Send out the orders."
"Yes sir!" Keller said and turned to his men. "All stations, this is Atlas Actual. Report to Hangar 3. I repeat, report to Hangar 3."