I drifted in a white world.

  Most of my companions would never even remember anything the moment the transfer finished. To them, barely a second would have passed. But I wasn’t like them. I never had the luxury of oblivion.

  People in fantasy talk about being transported away to another world in an instant, whole and intact. Reality is far less elegant. Transfer spells pull you apart molecule by molecule, threading you through the gaps between worlds and assembling you on the other side.

  And for beings like me, whose mind, body, and soul are separate yet bound, three parts moving together even when separated, things get—complicated.

  The bond is constant. Whatever one part experiences, the others must witness and interpret, even if scattered. A curse, a blessing, a nuisance—depends on the day.

  Whoever set up that ambush deserved a slow clap. They didn’t just cast a transfer spell, they booted us out of the world entirely. No destination given, no safety guaranteed. A cosmic eviction notice with none of the courtesy.

  I sighed—metaphorically, since I currently had no lungs. I really need to destroy that world.

  There were going to be consequences for a transfer like this. There always are. But the cruel part is you never see those consequences on the receiving end—they show up at the origin. It’s like staring at a crater after an explosion, you can sense the force, but only by standing in the epicenter do you understand what was lost.

  I focused my mind, igniting sparks in the void. One by one, my companions’ souls flickered into sense. They felt only mild discomfort, probably from the blinding flash before the spell took us. That was good. They were safe.

  My parents, my brother, people I cared about had been caught up in this mess. Once I got back, not even the Primarchs could stop me from delivering, Judgment. The weapons etched into my soul hummed in answer—an echo of my anger.

  Wait.

  Humming?

  I turned inward. There it was—my guiding star. Lantern pulsed, resonating with insistent light.

  Really? You want this now?

  Fine.

  You’re lucky I can still protect them like this, even if I have to reveal everything. If action is demanded, then action will be taken.

  I drifted through the void, wondering how long we’d be stuck in this half-formed state when the sensation shifted. Before, I’d felt like I was standing still inside a moving vehicle—aware of motion without participating in it. Now something was pulling me.

  Faster.

  Faster.

  And then—

  Stop.

  A white room unfolded around me. In front stood a two-meter statue of a woman in a flowing dress, hands extended loosely, palms open in silent invitation. Her face was smooth stone, featureless, yet somehow, she radiated a warm, maternal presence.

  Beside her rested a scale half her height. One pan overflowed with jackstones, marbles, and children’s toys. The other brimmed with gold bars, coins, diamonds—treasures fit for kings. And impossibly, the scale balanced perfectly, humming with playful mischief.

  Great.

  Gods. Again.

  What do you want this time?

  Honestly, I would’ve preferred Gandalf. Instead, I got the real deal. My thoughts must have carried, because both divine figures stirred—soft humming, faint buzzing, as if trying to speak.

  Something was interfering.

  Hell’s tits! I snarled my thoughts at them. Even if this were a normal summoning, you are about to have heroes. Dozens of them. Let them handle it! But leave my family out of this!

  The gods radiated urgency—pleading, nearly begging.

  Then, without warning, the audience ended. The pull returned, ripping me away.

  Ping!

  [You have acquired a new skill!][Rare]Identify

  [You have acquired a new skill!][Rare]Living Language Translation

  [You have gained a new skill!][!*#$]Blank Core

  Then—white became black—violently.

  The pull didn’t slow. It yanked, and all of us, stretched thin across whatever vast expanse we had been dragged through, snapped back into existence like rubber bands let loose.

  There was no grace in it.

  No divine cushioning.

  Just momentum.

  The world slammed into us.

  A chorus of “—wah!” “—oof!” “—gah!” “—shit!” erupted behind me as everyone materialized.

  Nana baa-san reacted first, even half-summoned, she moved with precision, slipping behind my parents and catching them both by their backs before they toppled over. My mother still let out a startled squeak, but at least she didn’t face-plant.

  My brother wasn’t so lucky. He pitched forward with a graceless flail, arms windmilling, before crashing onto hands and knees.

  Arthur and Train materialized in the air just behind their fathers, and all four of them collapsed into a groaning heap, limbs everywhere. Arthur’s elbow dug into Train’s stomach, before he fell grabbing at his father’s back. Train’s knee jabbed his father’s rib, and someone’s shoe ended up suspiciously close to someone else’s face.

  Everyone else landed in one giant, tangled pile of arms and legs.

  As for me, I didn’t have the luxury of letting go.

  I had been holding my two childhood friends the moment the spell tore us out of our world, and I held onto them through the whole transit. As I felt the ground nearing, I twisted my body, forcing the momentum to roll through my spine instead of theirs.

  I hit the floor hard—flat on my back with a brutal thud, the impact blasting the air from my lungs. Pain surged across my ribs, but the girls landed safely atop me, cushioned by my chest and arms.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  They blinked, wide-eyed and dazed but unharmed.

  “Ae!” Reika yelped, her voice squeaking in panic.

  “What just happened!?” Shizuku gasped, confusion overtaking her usual calm as I loosened my grip on their shoulders.

  “Get off—!” I wheezed, coughing as air finally forced its way back into my lungs. Get off me!”

  They scrambled to the side at once, sitting beside me while I lay there, trying not to choke on my own breath. I think I also hit the back of my head because when I looked up, the world was spinning.

  Shizuku’s mother was suddenly beside her and checking her frantically from head to toe. After she found no injuries, she turned to me and gave me a proud look and a thumbs up. I was too hurt to pay her any attention so I continued to lay on the ground.

  For a heartbeat, the entire chamber was nothing but groans, curses, and the awkward rustling of people trying to figure out which limbs belonged to whom. One by one, the runes beneath us faded out, their pale glow dimming as though exhausted by our arrival.

  Everyone was too busy groaning, dusting themselves off, or checking if their limbs were still attached in the correct order.

  My brother groaned and pushed himself up on shaking arms, finally managing to sit upright. His hair was a slight mess, and somehow, he had a shoe print on his cheek.

  “Ow—Arthur! Get your damn elbow out of my kidneys!” Trayn hissed, shoving his friend off him.

  “I fell too! Cut me some slack!” Arthur shot back, rubbing his side.

  Their fathers were no better.

  “Boys,” Trayn’s father groaned as he forced himself to stand, “we’re on stone floor, not a futon. Stop flailing.”

  “Son, your knee nearly cracked a rib,” Arthur’s father added, trying to stand with whatever dignity he could muster while his son clung to him like a startled cat.

  Nana baa-san helped my parents upright, still gripping them like they might vanish if she let go. They were a bit shaken but steady on their feet. Even she looked unsettled.

  Then my mother’s eye fell on me who was still on the ground.

  “Son of mine are you alright!?” she breathed, worriedly.

  “I landed on my back while I was carrying two people who weigh more than a sack of rice,” I groaned out. “Mother, in that context, do you think I would be alright?”

  “How rude! We’re not that heavy!” Shizuku protested, cheeks flushing pink.

  “We’re pretty light! Ae’s just weak!” Reika grumbled, crossing her arms with wounded pride.

  I ignored both of their complaints as my mother knelt to check me over. Turning my head toward Arthur, I muttered, “Pretty sure I heard someone scream.”

  “Wasn’t that you?” Arthur asked, smirking down at me.

  I glared. “Shut up.”

  My father approached, gently peeling the two girls off my sleeves. “Are you three alright? Anyone hurt?” The girls nodded, still dazed but uninjured. People were starting to gather around us, faces tight with worry.

  “Speak for yourselves,” I groaned again. “I think something’s broken. Help me up.”

  Arthur and Trayn exchanged a look, shrugged, then each grabbed an arm and hauled me upright.

  “Slowly! Slowly! Ahh—!” I yelped as the bones on my back cracked like dry wood. “Fuck, me!”

  “Ouch. I felt that,” Trayn winced sympathetically as I rubbed at my spine.

  Arthur rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, feels like we got kicked by a horse. That can’t be normal.”

  Trayn shook his head sharply, like he could rattle himself back to clarity. “No, seriously… what was that? We were at the hotel. We were—” He stopped, gaze sliding around the chamber. “We were at the hotel.”

  A woman—their teacher, still smoothing her hair and trying to pretend she wasn’t shaking—pushed through the crowd.

  “What happened? Is everyone alright?” she asked, voice wavering between confusion and dread.

  Takashi finally managed words after straightening his glasses. “I don’t know, there was the flash of the camera, and then something grabbed us. Pulled us.”

  My mother glanced around, voice soft and trembling. “…This isn’t the hotel anymore, is it?”

  That single sentence seemed to anchor everyone’s scattered thoughts.

  Takashi slowly turned in place, eyes widening with every step. “Where, are we?”

  Arthur squinted at the towering ceiling lost in shadow. “Well, this definitely isn’t a hospital,” he muttered, earning a few weak, nervous chuckles.

  “Look at the walls,” Hanzo said quietly.

  We all did.

  Smooth stone—black shot with veins of silver—rose around us. Runes crawled faintly across the floor and up the pillars like living script. The chamber itself was octagonal, not built for function or comfort, but leaned more for ceremony. The room was lit by small crystals from the ceiling. We stood on a raised platform, almost like an altar.

  Surrounding us were eight tall statues—hooded women with their hands clasped in prayer, each facing inward. They towered, silent and solemn. The only visible entrance was a single heavy, arched wooden door large enough to fit an ox cart through.

  Takashi broke the quiet and let out a slow, shaky breath

  “…Guys,” he said slowly, “this is a summoning chamber.”

  Arthur crossed his arms. “Circle on the floor, runes everywhere, weird architecture—yeah, looks like it.”

  Trayn shivered. “Which means someone dragged us all here.”

  “It’s not like the kind of summoning I’ve read about,” Hanzo said softly which earned him many murmurs of agreement.

  My brother swallowed. “Shouldn’t we see someone? A summoner? Or a priest?”

  “Yeah,” Takashi said, voice lowering. “It’s way too quiet.”

  “So, we’re not even on our world,” Yuuto whispered. His tone was half awe, half fear.

  “…This isn’t possible,” my brother whispered. “It shouldn’t be.”

  Takashi swallowed. “Then why does it feel like it is?”

  No one answered. Everyone else became suspiciously busy staring at the room—its towering ceiling depicting the night sky, the glowing runes around us slowly dimming, and the strange, almost expectant stillness.

  Then—

  “Everyone calm down.” Their teacher stepped forward, though her voice trembled badly. “This is obviously some kind of—of illusion. A hallucination from the flash. We’re probably disoriented, that’s all.”

  Trayn’s father latched onto her explanation immediately. “Yes! Exactly! A stage trick—some parlor illusion. We’ll open the door, and we’ll be right back in the hotel lobby. Easy.” His voice wavered as he forced the idea to life. “During the flash they could’ve… lowered props, or—something from the ceiling.”

  But his words wilted as his eyes rose again to the near impossible height above, the cold stone, the sheer scale of the place.

  Arthur’s father folded his arms, clinging to reason like it was a lifeline. “That’s right. There’s no such thing as instantaneous mass teleportation. That means, we’re still where we were. We just—haven’t figured out the trick yet.”

  The teacher echoed him, louder this time, as if saying it firmly enough would make it true. “Exactly. This is all part of whatever flash that was. An illusion.”

  My father spoke more calmly, but the strain pulled at the edges of his words. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. We have no proof we’re anywhere else.”

  And the silence that followed was sharp enough to cut. Denial is always noisiest right before it breaks.

  Everyone stood caught between confusion and fear, trying to claim that what had happened was impossible, even as the truth chilled the air around us. Whatever this place was, the stone, the height, the heavy breath of magic—it was real. Whether we were ready or not. This was our reality now.

  My gaze drifted to Nana baa-san. She met my eyes and gave a small, knowing nod. Normally we could communicate with thought alone, but since we didn’t know if people are monitoring us, or had items that can alert them to our presence if we used magic, we were stuck with using physical methods to communicate discreetly, subtle gestures, restrained breath, silence.

  I forced myself to think the way I always did—practical, measured, cold if I had to be. A chamber without the summoner could be a relief—no one to bind us to their will, no immediate threat. But the trade-off is that we would need to figure things out for ourselves.

  But it also meant whoever dragged us here might have left wards, alarms, or watchers that would trigger if we used magic or moved recklessly. Either way, staying put and doing nothing didn’t feel like an option. That would mean, someone would need to go and investigate.

  I started towards the door.

  “Wait—where are you going!?” my father shouted, panic cracking through his composure as I reached halfway.

  “I’m going to look for people,” I said simply.

  “Son of mine, it could be dangerous,” my mother warned, her voice tight with fear.

  “That’s right, Vi-kun,” Shizuku’s mother added, trying to sound rational and steady. “We should think before taking action.”

  “I am thinking,” I replied. “If this is a trick by the hotel, then the next logical step is to confirm it.”

  I brushed dust from my palms, the grit grounding me. “And if it’s not a trick, then we still need to find whoever summoned us. Either way, there is no sense in staying here.”

  The echo of my footsteps filled the chamber each step was swallowed by the vast, cold stone as I approached the door.

  “Although,” I said, my voice calm—too calm for the situation, “in my case, the fact that we were summoned is all but confirmed.”

  My brother blinked at me. “What makes you say that?”

  I turned to look at them then I exhaled through my nose, irritation simmering just under my skin.

  “Because, this entire time, I’ve been speaking in German, and all of you seem to understand me just fine.” I paused, letting that fact settle. “That means that a translation is coming from somewhere. It’s being applied to me, you people, or around us. Magic, not linguistics. It makes all the years I put into practice seemed pointless and wasted. Honestly, I’m pissed.”

  A sharp intake of breath as people began to realize and comprehend what I said. The fragile shell of denial was beginning to break and splinter into fear, wonder, awe—emotions no one wanted to admit, but none could hide anymore.

  Father’s voice came quietly, as if louder words might shatter what little certainty he had left. “And what are you planning to do once you find the people responsible?”

  “Simple,” I said, as my hand pressed against the massive door. “I will have them explain themselves why they dragged us here. Before I decide to break something important.”