The world faded into a swirling void as Elior’s final breath escaped his lips. Shadows dissolved into a cold, endless expanse of nothingness. His body, battered and broken, felt weightless as if gravity had abandoned him. Around him, the void pulsed with an unnatural rhythm, a heartbeat without origin. Shapes coalesced and dissolved, flickers of gray and faint echoes of light, but no ground beneath his feet and no horizon above.
Time felt irrelevant. Seconds or centuries might have passed, yet Elior’s awareness persisted. The silence pressed against his thoughts until, like a thunderclap, reality shattered.
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Elior’s eyes snapped open, the dark void giving way to an overwhelming cacophony of light and sound. He blinked rapidly, his vision assaulted by glowing skyscrapers that seemed to stretch endlessly into the heavens. Neon signs in languages he could not decipher blinked with aggressive vibrancy, casting shifting rainbows onto the streets below. Vehicles without wheels hovered just above the ground, their engines emitting low, almost musical hums as they weaved through crowded thoroughfares.
The streets teemed with life, though none of it was familiar. Humanoids—some with cybernetic enhancements, others entirely mechanical—moved with purpose, their wrists adorned with flickering holographic interfaces that projected streams of data into the air. The scent of ozone mingled with unfamiliar spices and the acrid tang of machinery, while the skies above buzzed with countless drones crisscrossing their invisible paths, their red and blue lights cutting through the haze of the megacity.
Elior staggered backward, his boots—oddly, he noticed, still the worn leather ones from his world—scraping against a surface that gleamed like polished obsidian. The ground reflected the city’s chaos like a distorted mirror. He caught glimpses of his reflection: disheveled black hair, emerald eyes wide with disbelief, and the faint glow of his scars—a feature at odds with this environment.
"Where... am I?" His voice barely rose above the mechanical hum of the city. No one answered; no one even glanced his way.
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He moved cautiously, his senses assaulted by this alien landscape. Towering spires of glass and metal twisted into impossible shapes, their surfaces covered in crawling streams of light and symbols. Transparent walkways bridged buildings far above, while bustling marketplaces thrived in the shadows below. Vendors, both human and synthetic, peddled goods Elior couldn’t comprehend—small orbs of pulsating light, gleaming mechanical limbs, and vials filled with swirling, iridescent liquid.
Panic bubbled under his skin. He extended his hand, murmuring an incantation that had long been second nature. A faint shimmer appeared, but the spectral hand that had so often answered his call failed to materialize. Instead, he felt an alien presence tugging at the edges of his consciousness—something cold, fragmented, and inherently wrong.
Elior gasped, staggering to a halt. Around him, a few passersby glanced at him with disinterest before moving on. He focused inward, trying again to summon the spirits of the dead. This time, the alien sensation surged, fragments of sound and distorted images bombarding his mind. The echoes of voices overlapped, their words meaningless but filled with anguish.
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"Presence detected," a monotone voice suddenly announced. Elior’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto a small drone hovering mere inches from his face. It was spherical, sleek, and adorned with glowing lines of blue. "Unregistered anomaly identified. Alerting enforcers."
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Within moments, a shrill alarm pierced the air. From an alleyway, figures clad in black, angular armor emerged, their movements precise and mechanical. Their helmets glowed with crimson visors, and their arms held weapons that pulsed with an ominous energy. Elior’s heart raced as they marched toward him.
“Halt,” one of them commanded, their voice synthesized and devoid of emotion. “Surrender for processing.”
Elior’s instincts took over. He turned and ran.
The streets blurred as he sprinted, his boots pounding against the reflective surface. The enforcers followed, their movements unnervingly synchronized. Pulses of light streaked past him, scorching the ground where he’d been moments before.
He darted into a narrow alley, the walls lined with pipes that hissed steam. The acrid air burned his lungs, but he pressed on. He turned corners blindly, relying on sheer desperation to stay ahead of his pursuers. His mind screamed for his magic, for the spectral blades and ethereal shields that had once been his lifeline. But the alien presence within this world stifled his efforts, its digital weight crushing his connection to the arcane.
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The alley opened into a sprawling plaza. Towering holograms floated above the crowd, depicting faceless figures delivering proclamations in the alien language. A massive screen flickered with images of a shining cityscape, interspersed with the phrase: "UNITY THROUGH ORDER."
The crowd barely reacted as Elior stumbled into their midst. Most were engrossed in their holographic displays, their faces lit with the soft glow of data streams. Those who noticed him quickly looked away, as though acknowledging his presence might draw unwanted attention.
A sharp pain tore through Elior’s side. He cried out, clutching the wound as he glanced back. One of the enforcers had fired a grazing shot, its energy burning through his cloak and searing his skin.
“Stop resisting,” the enforcer demanded, its tone unyielding.
Elior’s vision blurred, the overwhelming sensory input of the city mixing with the pain. He stumbled forward, nearly collapsing. A hand suddenly grabbed his arm, pulling him into a shadowed alcove. Before he could react, a voice hissed in his ear.
“Stay quiet if you want to live.”
The figure was cloaked, their face obscured by a mask adorned with a glowing pattern. They pressed a device against the wall, and a hidden door slid open, revealing a dark passage. Without waiting for Elior’s response, they pushed him inside.
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The noise of the city faded as the door sealed shut behind them. The corridor was dimly lit, its walls made of exposed circuitry and glowing conduits. The air was heavy, filled with the faint hum of unseen machinery.
“Who are you?” Elior asked, his voice hoarse.
The figure didn’t answer immediately. They pulled back their hood, revealing a woman with sharp features and cybernetic implants that glinted under the dim light. Her eyes, augmented with faintly glowing lenses, studied him with suspicion.
“Someone who doesn’t want to see you dissected by the System,” she said curtly. “You’re not from here, are you?”
Elior shook his head, the motion sluggish. “I don’t even know where here is.”
The woman’s gaze softened slightly. “You’re in Nova Helix. And you’ve got a lot to learn if you want to survive.”
Elior’s legs gave out, and he sank to the floor. The adrenaline was fading, leaving him trembling and weak. The woman crouched beside him, her voice firm but not unkind.
“Rest while you can,” she said. “You’ve just made enemies with the System, and they don’t forgive easily.”
As the darkness of the corridor closed in, Elior’s thoughts swirled with fear and confusion. The world he’d known was gone, replaced by a place that seemed intent on breaking him. Yet, he would survive. He didn't know how yet, just that he would.