The world decided to turn upside down. Literally.
Just a second ago, Izayoi Sakamaki had been standing on solid ground, clutching a strange letter that promised to save him from terminal boredom. And in the next instant, gravity said "goodbye," and he plummeted into a celestial abyss.
The wind screamed in his ears, tearing at his eardrums, but Izayoi only wore a wide, predatory grin. Below him, at an unthinkable depth, lay a panorama that would make any physicist go gray in a second. A world covered by a dome? A giant chessboard of the gods?
"Not bad for a start!" he shouted into the void, enjoying the free fall. "If this is a resort, I'm loving the service already!"
He tucked his body, preparing to land in a massive lake visible below. The speed was excessive, but for his body, it was no more dangerous than jumping off a sofa.
However, the Universe apparently had other plans for him.
Right in the trajectory of his fall, space cracked. It didn't look like a magic portal or a technological airlock. It looked like a jagged, raw wound in the fabric of reality. A black hole, exuding an ancient, heavy energy, swallowed the landscape of the "Little Garden," replacing it with absolute darkness.
"Hey, this isn't on the itinerary!" Izayoi managed to growl before the darkness closed over him.
Instead of water, he met stone.
BAM!
The sound of impact was like a meteorite strike. Ancient floor slabs that hadn't seen sunlight in thousands of years shattered into gravel. A cloud of age-old dust billowed up, filling the space with a suffocating fog.
Silence.
In the center of the crater, amidst the chaos of granite debris, stood a guy. He lazily dusted off the lapels of his dark blue school blazer, noting with annoyance a couple of new scuff marks.
"Great, just got this back from the dry cleaners," he grumbled, adjusting the headphones hanging around his neck. "Hey, who's in charge of logistics here? I demand the complaint book."
No answer followed.
Izayoi shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and looked around. His violet eyes, accustomed to seeing the essence of things, instantly scanned the surroundings.
It was something between a temple and a tomb. High vaulted ceilings, columns adorned with carvings reminiscent of ancient Greek architecture. The air here was stale, stagnant, yet saturated with a strange energy. It wasn't electricity or radiation. It was something more... alive.
"Mana," Izayoi stated, tasting the word. "Thick as molasses. If someone lived here, they definitely loved special effects."
He moved toward the center of the hall, stone grit crunching under his boots. There, on a dais, stood a statue of a woman with wings and a book. But as soon as he approached, the air around the statue thickened.
A flash of golden light would have made an ordinary person shield their eyes, but Izayoi didn't even blink. He watched with curiosity as a figure formed from the light.
A woman. Tall, in snowy white antique robes. Her body was translucent, woven from particles of light, but her gaze was frighteningly conscious. This wasn't a simple recording. It was an imprint of will that had survived millennia.
"I have waited..." her voice sounded like the rustling of dry pages, echoing off the walls. "I have waited for the one who would come to change the era."
She opened her eyes fully and looked at Izayoi. And in that moment, her solemn expression faltered.
Instead of a noble hero in shining armor, before her stood an insolent teenager in an unbuttoned blazer, looking at her like she was a museum exhibit blocking the way to the buffet.
"You..." Flamme, the Great Mage of the Era of Gods, frowned. "You are not the one I foresaw. The threads of fate did not lead to you. You are... a void."
"Nice to meet you," Izayoi smirked, offering a slight bow with mock theatricality. "And what's your name, spook? Or do you work the night shift here?"
Flamme ignored his tone. She was too old and too dead to be offended by insolence.
"I am Flamme. The one who brought the fire of knowledge to humanity. This barrier, this place... all of it was created to preserve hope for future generations. But you..." she shook her head, and her silhouette began to flicker. "Your arrival is a mistake. You have no magic of this world. You are an outsider."
She began to fade. The light dimmed.
"My mission is complete. The door is open. Whoever you are, outlander... find the one who guides souls on their final journey. Perhaps she will understand why fate brought you here. Farewell."
She closed her eyes, preparing to dissolve into nothingness. Her time had run out a thousand years ago, and she was held here only by the power of an oath.
"Hey, hold up," Izayoi's voice cut through the silence like a knife. "Who gave you permission to leave?"
Flamme did not answer. The process of unravelling had begun. Her hand was already turning into a stream of golden sparks.
"I asked a question!"
A dash.
Izayoi crossed the ten meters separating them faster than the sound of his voice reached the walls.
The laws of magic said that touching a ghost was impossible. It is a memory, light, mana. Not matter. The laws of physics said one cannot hold light with a hand.
Izayoi Sakamaki spat on both sets of laws.
His hand shot forward and seized the mage's vanishing wrist.
SNATCH.
It was as if the sound had been muted in the hall.
Flamme's eyes flew open. The shock on her face was so human that for a moment she ceased to look like a divine entity. She stared at her hand. The warm, rough, living palm of the youth was gripping her ethereal wrist, preventing it from disintegrating.
The mana around them howled, protesting this violence against reality, but Izayoi's grip was absolute. He wasn't just holding her—he had "anchored" her existence with his will.
"Y-you..." she exhaled, and for the first time in a thousand years, fear resonated in her voice. "You are touching... a soul?"
"I'm touching what pisses me off," Izayoi cut her off coldly, bringing his face close to hers. A dangerous flame danced in his violet eyes. "And it pisses me off when I'm ignored."
He squeezed his fingers slightly, demonstrating that she wasn't going anywhere.
"You said I'm a 'mistake'? Excellent. I love being the error in someone's calculations. But you aren't disappearing until you sell me this world."
Izayoi smiled, and it was the smile of a predator who had found a new toy.
"Convince me, Flamme. Convince me that there is something in this hole worth sticking around for. Tell me there is someone here I can't break with my pinky finger."
Pressure began to rise around Izayoi. It wasn't magic. It was the raw, primal power of a being whose very existence was a challenge to the universe. The stone walls of the tomb trembled, and dust rained down from the ceiling.
"Come on!" he barked, shaking the stunned ghost. "Is there a Demon Lord here? Gods? Monsters the size of mountains? Or should I turn around and find a way back because it's too boring here?"
Flamme looked at him and realized: the thing that had arrived in her world was more terrifying than any demon. This was a natural disaster in human form.
And for the first time in an eternity, a faint, anticipating smile appeared on her lips.
"Oh yes..." she whispered. "You will like it here, child of catastrophe."