Pain.
That was the first sensation Misaki Haruto registered as consciousness dragged him back from the void. Not the dull ache of overexerted muscles or the sting of a minor cut, but a deep, consuming agony that radiated from his core and spread through every nerve like liquid fire.
His eyes snapped open, and he immediately knew something was catastrophically wrong.
The sky above him bore no resemblance to the star-filled void of space he'd been navigating through. Instead, a swirling canvas of crimson and violet stretched overhead, streaked with bands of gold that moved like living auroras. Massive planetary rings arced across the heavens in impossible geometries, and multiple celestial bodies hung in the alien sky where only one sun should be.
This isn't Earth. This isn't anywhere near Earth.
Misaki tried to sit up. The scream that tore from his throat was raw and involuntary as fresh agony exploded through his torso. He looked down, and his stomach lurched in horror.
A metal rod—part of the spacecraft's interior framework—had impaled him through the lower abdomen. The entry point just above his right hip wept blood that had already soaked through his torn flight suit, staining the purple-tinted grass beneath him a deep crimson. The rod was roughly two inches in diameter, and it had punched clean through him, the other end still attached to a twisted section of hull plating buried in the alien soil.
"No, no, no..." His hands hovered uselessly over the wound. Every protocol from his astronaut training screamed at him not to remove it—the rod was the only thing preventing him from bleeding out completely.
A flicker of blue light caught his attention.
Floating beside his head, translucent and glowing with soft luminescence, was a rectangular screen. Text scrolled across it in characters he'd never seen before, yet somehow his brain translated them automatically, as naturally as reading his native Japanese.
[WELCOME TO VULCAN]
[INTEGRATION SEQUENCE: INITIATED]
[STATUS: CRITICAL]
Misaki stared at the interface in disbelief. A status screen. Like a video game. I actually got isekai'd.
[NAME: Misaki Haruto]
[AGE: 21]
[SPECIES: Human (Unregistered)]
[CLASS: Unassigned]
[HEALTH STATUS:]
[⚠️ WARNING: SEVERE TRAUMA DETECTED ⚠️]
[- Impalement Injury (Abdomen)]
[- Blood Loss: Critical]
[- Internal Damage: Severe]
[- Infection Risk: High]
[- Estimated Survival Time: 2 Hours 18 Minutes]
A survival timer. They'd given him a countdown to his own death.
His laugh came out bitter and edged with hysteria. "A video game interface. I'm dying on an alien planet, and there's a system telling me to find a doctor." He coughed, tasting copper in his mouth. Internal bleeding, probably.
[URGENT ACTION REQUIRED]
[PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: Seek Medical Attention]
[RECOMMENDATION: Locate Healer-Class Individual]
[NEAREST SETTLEMENT: M'lod Village - 0.8 kilometers northeast]
A minimap appeared in the corner of his vision—a small blue dot representing his position, with a green marker pulsing steadily to the northeast.
Misaki craned his neck to survey his surroundings. The spacecraft was scattered across the field in a nightmare of twisted metal and shattered composites. He barely remembered the atmospheric entry failure, the alarms screaming, the console exploding in sparks, the sensation of freefall...
Beyond the wreckage, perhaps two hundred meters away, a forest rose like a wall of deep green and amber, the trees' bark shimmering with an otherworldly light. But in the other direction—northeast—he could see thin columns of smoke rising above the treetops and what looked like peaked roofs silhouetted against the alien sky.
Civilization. Help. Hope.
0.8 kilometers. Less than a mile.
I used to run that distance in under four minutes in high school, Misaki thought grimly. Of course, back then I didn't have a metal rod through my stomach.
"Get up," he told himself, his voice barely audible. "Get up, or you die here."
The pain when he moved defied description. Misaki bit down hard on his flight suit collar to muffle his screams as he used his arms to drag himself forward. The rod scraped against bone and tissue with every agonizing inch, and he could feel warm blood flowing more freely, leaving a dark trail through the purple grass.
"Come on. Come on." Tears streamed down his face, mixing with dirt and blood. "You survived the orphanage. You survived the academy. You survived space. You can survive this."
Five meters. Ten. Each movement was a battle against his body's desperate pleas to stop, to rest, to surrender. The translucent screen floated beside him like a grim companion, the timer ticking down with mechanical indifference.
[Estimated Survival Time: 2:06]
The forest's edge seemed impossibly distant. Misaki's vision blurred, dark spots dancing at the periphery. His heartbeat thundered in his ears—too fast, too irregular. Shock was setting in.
He thought about the orphanage where he'd grown up, the cold gray walls and the other children who'd never quite accepted him. He'd joined the space program to escape Earth, to find something bigger than the loneliness that had defined his life.
Well, I found it. Just not how I imagined.
Fifty meters. The grass gave way to harder ground, and his hands found purchase on exposed roots. He pulled himself forward, inch by bloody inch, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
A sound made him freeze—howling, distant but drawing closer. Multiple voices harmonizing in a distinctly non-canine way. Something primal in his brain screamed: predator, danger, run.
The screen pulsed red.
[⚠️ WARNING: HOSTILE FAUNA DETECTED ⚠️]
[SPECIES: Vro'nax (Pack Hunters)]
[THREAT LEVEL: Moderate-High]
[RECOMMENDATION: Continue Toward Settlement. DO NOT ENGAGE.]
Misaki looked back toward the crash site. Even through his deteriorating vision, he could see movement at the forest's edge—low shapes, swift and predatory, investigating the wreckage. They'd find his blood trail soon enough.
Not like this, he thought desperately. I refuse to die in what's basically the tutorial area.
The village was closer now. Individual buildings became visible—thatch-roofed structures built partially into the ground, their walls a mix of mud brick and woven material. Smoke rose from chimneys, and he thought he could hear voices, though they might have been hallucinations.
The howling grew louder.
Misaki's arms gave out. He collapsed face-first into the dirt, unable to move, unable to breathe. The rod shifted with the impact, and white-hot agony finally pushed him over the edge into merciful darkness.
[INTEGRATION SEQUENCE: PHASE 2]
[ENTERING SYSTEM TUTORIAL]
The void was absolute—no light, no sound, no sensation of having a body. Misaki floated in nothingness, suspended between existence and non-existence.
Is this death?
Then the voice came. It didn't speak so much as resonate directly through his consciousness, each word vibrating with ancient, vast power.
"WELCOME TO VULCAN."
Light erupted around him—gentle, like dawn breaking over a distant horizon. The void transformed into a massive space filled with slowly rotating geometric patterns that hurt to look at directly. In the center floated a perfect sphere containing what looked like entire galaxies swirling within its surface.
"YOU HAVE SUCCESSFULLY ARRIVED."
"Arrived where?" Misaki tried to speak, but he had no mouth. His thoughts echoed in the space instead. "What is this? Am I dead?"
"YOU ARE IN THE THRESHOLD. BETWEEN STATES. BETWEEN POSSIBILITIES."
The sphere pulsed, and information flooded into Misaki's consciousness—scrolling text, images, diagrams, and symbols pouring in faster than thought.
[THE POWER SYSTEM OF VULCAN]
Images flashed before him: people channeling impossible energies, fire dancing from their palms, water coalescing from thin air, earth reshaping itself at a gesture. It was like watching the opening sequence of a high-budget fantasy anime.
[Based on Planetary Alignments at Two Critical Moments:]
[1. The Moment of Conception]
[2. The Moment of Birth]
[Each of the Twelve Celestial Bodies Orbiting the Star Ulth'rk Represents a Deity]
[Your Alignment Determines Your Affinity, Your Potential, Your Path]
More images followed—the twelve planets he'd seen in the sky, each glowing with different colored light. People standing in towers while celestial radiance surrounded them. Complicated charts showing planetary positions and their meanings.
[THE SEVEN CHAKRA SYSTEM]
A diagram appeared, showing a human figure with seven glowing points along its body:
[MULADHARA - The Chakra of Earth]
[SVADHISTHANA - The Element of Water]
[MANIPURA - The Chakra of Fire]
[ANAHATA - The Element of Air]
[VISHUDDHA - The Chakra of Sound]
[AJNA - The Chakra of Light]
[THE CROWN - The Chakra of Planets (Theoretical - Never Achieved)]
[Power flows through these channels. Meditation maintains the connection. Regular practice sustains ability. Neglect leads to atrophy.]
So it's not just gaining power and coasting, Misaki realized. This world has maintenance requirements.
[FUNDAMENTAL LAWS:]
[- Death is Absolute. No Resurrection Magic Exists.]
[- Precious Metals Cannot Be Created Through Magic.]
[- Power Requires Discipline, Training, and Regular Ritual Practice.]
More information flooded in—the existence of black magic requiring sacrifices, whispered legends of alchemy practiced only by demons, the Tower of Crown where affinities were tested.
"Why are you telling me this?" Misaki's thought cut through the deluge.
"BECAUSE YOU ARE NOW PART OF THIS WORLD. YOU MUST UNDERSTAND TO SURVIVE. YOU MUST SURVIVE TO CHOOSE."
The sphere contracted, pulling all light and information back into itself until it became a single point of brilliance.
"YOU ARRIVE AS AN ANOMALY, MISAKI HARUTO. A BEING FROM BEYOND THE SYSTEM."
An anomaly? What does that mean?
"THIS CREATES... POSSIBILITIES."
"AWAKEN. YOUR JOURNEY BEGINS NOW."
[INTEGRATION SEQUENCE: COMPLETE]
[RESUMING CONSCIOUSNESS]
Pain slammed back into Misaki like a physical blow, but it was different now—diminished, more manageable. Instead of the sharp agony of impalement, it had become the deep ache of healing.
His eyes flew open. He was lying on something soft—actual bedding, not hard ground. Walls of woven branches and packed earth surrounded him, the ceiling curved in a dome shape. Herbs hung drying from wooden beams, filling the air with a pungent, medicinal scent.
A hut. Someone's home.
"Stay still." The voice was firm but gentle, speaking a language he shouldn't understand but did—the same way he'd understood the system interface. "You'll tear the sutures if you move."
Misaki turned his head carefully. A woman knelt beside him, her hands glowing with soft golden light as they hovered over his abdomen. She looked young—around his age—with long blonde hair pulled back in a practical braid. Her eyes were an unusual shade of amber, almost luminous in the hut's dim interior, and they studied him with focused intensity.
She wore simple clothing—a tunic and trousers made from rough-spun cloth—but carried herself with quiet confidence that spoke of competence and authority beyond her years.
A healer. An actual magic healer.
"The rod," Misaki croaked, his throat raw. "Did you...?"
"I removed it three hours ago." Those amber eyes met his, and he saw exhaustion there, mixed with concern. "You're very lucky to be alive. Another ten minutes, and you would have bled out completely. The blood loss alone should have killed you twice over."
A system notification flickered at the edge of his vision.
[HEALTH STATUS: Stable (Recovering)]
[CRITICAL STATUS: Removed]
[Debuff: Severe Injury - Recovery Time: 7-10 Days]
Misaki looked down. His flight suit had been cut away, replaced by clean linen bandages wrapped around his torso. Through the pain and lingering shock, he felt a surge of gratitude so intense it brought tears to his eyes.
"Thank you," he whispered. "I... thank you."
The woman's expression softened slightly. She pulled her hands back, the golden glow fading, and Misaki watched exhaustion deepen on her face, as if the healing had drained something vital from her.
Magic takes a toll on the caster. Good to know.
"Rest now," she said, reaching for a clay cup filled with dark liquid. "Drink this. It will help with the pain and prevent infection. We'll talk more when you're stronger."
She helped him sit up slightly—the movement caused him to hiss through his teeth—and brought the cup to his lips. The liquid tasted bitter and earthy, but warmth spread through his chest almost immediately.
Healing potion? Fantasy medicine? Either way, not complaining.
"Wait," Misaki managed before she could pull away. "What's your name?"
She paused, studying him with those unusual eyes. He could see the wheels turning—curiosity mixed with wariness. He must look completely alien to her: his Japanese features, his dark hair, his technological flight suit unlike anything this world had probably seen.
Finally, she spoke.
"My name is Lyria," she said quietly. "I'm a healer of M'lod Village. And you, stranger, have a great deal of explaining to do about how you fell from the sky."
Misaki smiled weakly despite the pain. "Yeah. Yeah, I probably do."
Well, he thought as the healing draught began pulling him toward sleep, at least I survived the prologue. That's more than some isekai protagonists can say.
A new system notification appeared, transparent and unobtrusive:
[QUEST INITIATED: Survive and Adapt]
[Objective: Recover from Injuries (0/10 Days)]
[Reward: System Access Unlocked]
The screen faded as consciousness slipped away again, but this time Misaki wasn't afraid. This time, he had a chance. He'd survived the crash, survived the blood loss, survived the journey to the village.
Now he just had to survive this new world.