The Transition was so swift and brief that it seemed less than a tick of time lay between the moment I placed myself in Professor Hirabayashi’s strange machine and the instant when I found myself standing upright in the clear sunlight that flooded a broad plain. I could not doubt that I had indeed been transported to another world—later I would learn it was called Kigen by its inhabitants. The landscape was not so grotesque or fantastic as I might have supposed, but it was indisputably alien to anything that existed back on Earth.

But before I gave much heed to my surroundings, I checked over my own body to see if I had survived that awful flight intact. I was still in one piece—my limbs functioned, my heart thudded, my breath came in ragged gasps. Yet I was completely naked. Professor Hirabayashi had warned me that inorganic matter could not pass through the cosmic transmutation unchanged: only living flesh would survive. At least I hadn’t landed in some icy wasteland—there was a lazy, summer-like heat on this grassland, and the warmth of the sun felt oddly pleasant on my bare skin.

On every side stretched a vast plain thickly grown with short green grass. In the distance the grass became taller, glinting with the reflection of water—a meandering river, perhaps, or several of them. Here and there I saw small black dots moving among the reeds. It was enough to tell me I wasn’t in a deserted realm. My imagination populated the horizon with shapes I couldn’t yet identify.

Even so, for all the peaceful air of this place, I felt a chill of dread. A man’s helplessness weighs on him when he’s hurled from the world he knows into a sphere of unknown perils. I’d never been easily frightened—back on Earth, I had been Kai, a brutal mob enforcer, always on the run from the law. But standing there in the open plains of Kigen, battered by memory of the machine I’d just emerged from and the threat of a prison cell (or worse) awaiting me if I’d stayed on Earth, I still felt my nerve waver. Given a sudden choice, I might have traded my new freedom for the old dangers of the police. But I was soon to learn how unexpectedly capable my muscles, my instincts, and my will could be against the threats of this uncanny new world.

***

A slight sound behind me made me wheel about. There I saw the first inhabitant of Kigen I was ever to encounter—and for an instant, it fired my blood more than it froze it. That shock, at least, was tangible. The fear of an unknown monster is often worse than meeting something solid, even if it’s menacing.

He looked at first like a huge, hulking brute from a bad dream. Then I understood it was actually an orc, albeit unlike any I had known from legends or stories. He stood not much taller than I, but broader, heavier, with shoulders that seemed to stretch halfway across his torso. He wore a loincloth of a silken material, fastened by a broad belt supporting a long knife in a leather sheath. High-strapped sandals encased his feet. But it was his face that arrested my attention.

The jaw was wide and squared; brutal tusk-like teeth gleamed when his thin lips pulled back in a snarl. Coarse black hair formed a short, bristly beard at his jaw and fierce, up-curving mustaches. His flattened nose flared with wide nostrils; the eyes were small, bloodshot, and a ghastly gray. From under thick black brows, a low forehead sloped back into a wild tangle of bushy hair. His ears were small, set tight to his head. He was not exactly an ape, but he was hairier than any human I’d ever seen. Black hairs rippled across his massive limbs and barrel-like torso.

A single glance told me he was as formidable as he looked. Unbridled power radiated off him—raw strength and a mind that seemed equally unflinching. When his bloodshot stare locked with mine, my own anger stirred. His posture was so arrogantly challenging that I could scarcely check my rising fury.

Then I heard him speak—and nearly reeled in astonishment at the sound of perfect Japanese coming from his mouth.

“So,” he said, voice harsh and mocking, “you’ve got some nerve showing off those smooth limbs in broad daylight. Exactly what are you supposed to be, stranger?”

The words jarred me. It wasn’t just their meaning; it was the biting attitude behind them. The gangster in me flared up, the old street-honed instincts that had long been my defense. But I tried to keep my cool.

“I’m called Kai,” I replied, giving him my name without any flourish. I didn’t know how to begin explaining how I came to Kigen.

He let his gaze drift insolently across my hairless arms and legs, then curled a lip over his tusks. “Kai?” he said. “Could’ve fooled me. You look more like you’re fresh out of some noble lady’s bathhouse.” His scorn was unbearable. “Maybe you ought to tell me right now—are you a man or a woman?”

He never should’ve asked that last question.

My fist crashed into his face before I’d fully realized I was swinging. Old habits, old aggression—the thing that had kept me alive so many times back in Tokyo’s underbelly—took over. He went rolling on the turf.

He came up with a choking snarl, raging like a wild beast. I met his charge head-on, just as furious. In that moment, reason fled, and the savage in me rose. I had always been strong, but for the first time I found myself grappling with someone—or something—stronger still. His arms wrapped around me, nearly crushing my ribs. I tore free with a desperate heave, and we surged apart.

It was a short, savage fight. His style was as raw and unrefined as mine was cunning and streetwise. Though he had monstrous strength, he had no technique for blocking or slipping a blow. Several times I felt sure he would break my spine if he pinned me. I battered him, relying on my fists to do what they had done in countless alley fights. He refused to go down—blood flowed from his nose and split ears, but it didn’t stop him. Then I saw him reach for his dagger.

That moment of overconfidence saved my life. He thought he could crush me with one slash. But as he straightened for a killing strike, I whipped a left hook into his midsection with every ounce of power my body could muster. Air exploded out of his lungs; he lurched forward, and I sank my right fist straight into his jaw. It was as brutal a knockout punch as I’d ever landed—on Earth or here in Kigen. He dropped like a stone, blood drenching his beard.

Breathing hard, knuckles raw and stinging, I stood over him, half in shock at what I had done. I wondered if I had just doomed myself. If his kin found me here, towering above their fallen comrade, I could guess the outcome. But I’d come too far to be squeamish. I stripped him of his belt, that single loincloth, and the long dagger, girding them about my own body. It gave me some spark of confidence to hold a weapon at last.

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The blade was a deadly marvel, nearly half the length of my arm, sharp as a razor, and forged of a steel finer than anything I’d seen. The artistry of its design implied a higher culture than I’d suspected from a roving orc who roared first and spoke second.

At a groan from the defeated orc, I glanced around warily—and saw a group of shapes in the distance, heading my way across the plains. Light reflected off metal weapons in their hands. If they were his comrades, I had no illusions about how they would react to my presence.

No sooner had I spotted them than I took off running for the distant foothills. My lungs burned, my heart pounded, and a wild, heady exhilaration filled me. When I paused on a ridge some time later to look back, I saw my fallen foe stir on the ground; the distant silhouettes converged around him. I knew I had no time to lose. I made for the deeper reaches of the hills, clambering across crags and boulders until I found a place to rest. I glanced backward only once more. No pursuit yet—but I pressed on.

***

That was how I began my life in the rugged hill country of Kigen. For months, I lived a brutal existence I’d never imagined possible. But a man does what he must when survival is on the line. Even a former mob enforcer from Earth has to become something more feral here.

My earliest days were spent cowering among stunted trees, half-starved, hounded by beasts I had no name for. If I wanted to eat, I ate what I could find—nuts, weird fruits, anything that didn’t kill me on the spot. I soon discovered that the nights on those hills became bitterly cold. Many times I huddled on a rocky ledge, half-frozen, hugging myself to keep awake. Packs of predators roamed after dark—huge, savage shapes that howled, roared, or slunk by on silent paws. I learned never to linger too long at a watering hole. A few mistakes nearly cost me my life.

In time, fear and hunger wore me down until my gangster’s instincts adapted. I toughened, both in body and spirit. My bare feet grew hardened against the rocky ground; my sun-baked skin turned tough as leather. I discovered I had an unexpected capacity for survival. Back on Earth, I’d lived by my wits—running rackets, beating down rivals. That was child’s play compared to the savage forging I underwent in these hills.

I scrabbled in the dirt for nuts, fought giant boars and saber-fanged leopards, and evaded or slew smaller packs of orcs that roamed the craggy slopes. I taught myself to sleep in short, shallow bursts, so the slightest sound would jar me awake. My body grew leaner, my muscles iron-hard. I lost all sense of civilized restraint. I was free—free of laws, free of moral codes—yet every day I risked my life against fangs, tusks, and scimitars.

One day, while roaming a new plateau, I stumbled upon a scene that made my heart thunder. The land dipped into a shallow bowl grown with tall grass, and there, wrestling with a gigantic saber-fanged leopard, was one of those orcs, locked in a fight for his life. I paused in shock. Usually, a creature like that cat would shred a victim in seconds. But this orc was holding his ground with a long sword, although it was clear he’d soon be finished.

Before I could think better of it, I was sprinting down the slope. I didn’t even shout. There was no time. Just as the leopard sprang and bore the orc down, I reached them and buried my dagger in the beast’s belly, ripping sideways with all my strength. The cat lurched off its prey, howling in agony. Horrifically wounded, it rolled and screamed before collapsing in a grotesque heap.

I turned to the orc, expecting I might have saved him. But his throat was torn open. He was choking in his own blood, his thigh shredded to the bone. Incredibly, he was still alive and aware—until a moment later, when the life went out of his eyes.

That was when more orcs appeared on the ridge above me, bows drawn. One arrow hissed past my ear, thudding into the grass behind me. The rest came pounding down the slope, shouting. Some of their words rang in Japanese: “He killed Daisaku! Take him!”

I didn’t wait for the next arrow. I bolted, bounding up the slope and into the protective cover of stunted trees. More arrows whistled by as I vanished. Any illusions I might have had about making friends with the orcs of Kigen ended right there.

***

The memory of that encounter, together with the endless harshness of the hills, made me dream of somewhere else—anywhere else. I wanted a horizon that wasn’t just rocks and predators. And so I struck off south and east, searching for new territory where I might stand a chance at a better life.

My wanderings in the hills were too numerous and bloody to recount in detail: I fought, I bled, I learned. I also came face to face with terrifying monstrosities: hyena-like fiends that could climb as well as any cat; enormous boars with razor tusks. Once, I glimpsed a vast, serpentine shape sliding through a valley by night, silent save for the swish of tall grass. My courage nearly failed me that time. I hunkered in my makeshift shelter and let it pass.

Eventually, though, I discovered that I was growing stronger—stronger than I had ever dreamed a human body could become. Back on Earth, I’d considered myself in peak condition. Now, I knew that was laughable. Compared to the half-feral warrior I had become on Kigen, my old self would have seemed soft as dough. Here, you either toughened or died. I, for one, had no intention of dying yet.

From time to time, I wondered at the strange coincidence of hearing my native tongue—Japanese—spoken by orcs. But the puzzle eluded me. I was living the ultimate struggle for survival; theoretical questions took a back seat to raw necessity.

At last, the day arrived when I caught a glimpse of rolling grasslands stretching away beyond the peaks. Green and endless, dotted with streams that shimmered in the distance. The sight stirred something in me: hope for a new chapter, maybe. I turned my back on the final ridge of the hills, and I descended.

The first night on the plains was unnerving. There were new beasts there, new roars echoing in the dark. But it was also warmer. In the days that followed, I discovered strange fruits growing on thick stalks. I saw herds of animals—small deer-like creatures and bizarre pig-like beasts with long hind legs that hopped like kangaroos. The novelty almost made me laugh out loud. It had been a long time since anything had made me laugh.

One morning, I found a bit of greenish stone—something flint-like—and managed to spark a fire. It took me half the day, scraping my dagger against the stone, cursing under my breath. But that night, I fed the flames with dry grasses and stems, forming a ring of fire around me. For once, I slept with a sense of security, though I heard heavy footfalls in the outer darkness and glimpsed savage eyes reflecting beyond the flames.

I kept traveling eastward. Days blurred together until one evening I beheld something that made me stop in my tracks: the towering walls and massive towers of a city. It loomed in the distance, its ramparts etched against the dusky sky.

My heart pounded at the sight. Who lived there? Could it be civilization of some kind? Or was it just a bigger fortress of orcs? My imagination conjured all sorts of possibilities—most of them frightening. And yet, I couldn’t quell a twinge of excitement.

The golden moon of Kigen rose above those walls, bathing them in its eerie light. The outline was dark and brooding, a hint of brutish power in the architecture. Huddled beside my little fire, I stared until sleep claimed me, half-dreaming of gates and towers and not knowing if I would find friend or foe inside.

***

Thus began my next step into the unknown, driven onward by hunger, curiosity, and that unquenchable urge for survival that had defined me ever since I fled Earth—and the police who sought to put me away forever. Whether this city would be my salvation or my doom, I did not know. But I had endured too much in Kigen to turn back now.

I had gone from being Kai, a wanted mobster in Tokyo, to Kai, the lone wanderer of Kigen. Now, with that dark city on the horizon, I was certain of only one thing: my story here had barely begun.