Nicholas felt nothing, saw nothing. He drifted about in the emptiness like a baby developing inside its mother's womb. The man reached out into the darkness only to realise his limbs were missing. No matter how he urged his feet forward, how much he shouted at his head to turn or his arms to move, the invisible restraints wouldn't yield. His head remained locked in place.
Nicholas's mind spun, calculating the chances of capture and probability of escape. His mental spinning top began to lose momentum, thoughts grew foggy, plans lacked reasoning. The spinning top stopped spinning. Nicholas's consciousness faded into the surrounding void.
His eyes flickered open. The guild master's eyes blurred as his eyelids shut and opened as light burned his eyeballs. After removing the black splotches in his vision, the man turned to look around. Alas, his status had remained the same. He was rooted to the ground like a statue with no dominion over his body. The world available to his wide window lay limp and deceased, lacking all life and movement. Tree trunks dotted the fiery landscape, its limbs piled together in bonfires. Ashes swarmed the air. Metallic smoke tightened its grip around the life force of every living thing in its proximity. The long-buried memories resurfaced, applying every detail, every ounce of suffering its owner suffered to this construct of his imagination. The ashes burned and clogged his throat like mucus during a sickness that would never go away. His chest burned with every inhalation of the toxic air. Nicholas's eyeballs tried to shield themselves from the inhospitable environment by coating the cornea in a thin layer of salt water. After a few seconds of siege from the invading heat, it broke, crumbling into vapours and disappearing into the smoke.
The crunching of footsteps grabbed his attention or that of his past self. He turned around. Nicholas's eyes settled upon a group of mages followed by an adventurer team.
The five adventurers appeared through the hazy, ash-infested air that billowed like veils. Their steps were confident and sure as the ground underfoot hardened into stone with every step. The dust in the air retreated from their presence, warded off by the blue glow of activated runes. Steel, beak-like masks with black, opaque goggles hid their faces from sight. Small scribbles lined the surface like a horizontal tornado of words, giving off a piercing blue aura that sucked in the air around them. A variety of armaments covered their body. Swords, shields, bows and staffs. Each warrior carried a pouch infused with runes. In addition, a belt tied with multiple glass vials, instruments and daggers was wrapped around their waists. Both the archer and the mage carried long scabbards on their backs.
Multiple robe-wearing people walked in front of the procession of soldiers, swinging strange key-shaped devices about. At regular intervals, the shape would light up. The colour first exposed to the air was red. The group changed direction. The second flash, orange. They rotated another fifteen degrees to the right. By the tenth flare, the colour had turned green. After locking in the direction, the wielder of the tool grabbed onto the eye section while twisting the handle five times in a clockwise direction before coming to a stop in its original position. He dropped the instrument into the ashen ground.
Upon impact, a beam of green light shot out from the eye. It raced through the empty space, incinerating every particle, tangible and non-tangible in its path. A crystal clear bubble surrounded the laser. After travelling several feet, it stopped dead. The air around the contact point rippled, blurring the scenery of shrivelled trees behind it. The green light pulsated as glowing orbs shot from the eye at split-second intervals following the flight path of the beam. Upon contacting the rippling air, the sound of tearing paper mixed with a whistle pounded their ears. The once-rippling air crumbled into nothingness, leaving a gaping black hole in its wake like an angry artist taring a hole in the canvas in a fit of rage. The instrument stopped its light transmission, becoming dormant and inert once more.
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A golden beam of light descended from the heavens, coating the device. After a few seconds, the yellow glow retracted. The instrument was gone.
The warriors nodded at him as they passed, still surely and unbreaking in their stoic demeanour. Their backs remained straight, heads held high, not a single trace of fear could be seen in their figure, all but one. The man on the side furthest from him was petite and slim, a massive claymore hanging off his back.
Nicholas wanted to scream at her to stop, desperately trying to pry open his previous self's mouth and hurl those words out. He kicked and struggled to break free of the bonds holding him prisoner in his past body. It was futile. His past self had been preoccupied with his thoughts, brushing the man's unsureness off as inexperience. "If only..." He muttered in his mental containment, unheard by the outside world.
As the team pierced through the veil between realms, his daughter turned around and waved at him, giving him an imaginary fist bump in the air. Her words echoed, "You can scold me later Dad! Don't worry, I won't try to have too much fun without you!" His mouth grew dry. He so wanted to charge in and wrestle his daughter out of that hellish place but it was against kingdom protocol.
"She'll be alright."
"She'll be alright."
"She'll be alright."
The words sounded hollow and empty but his former self could do nothing but pray.
Nicholas and the group of mages set up a campsite. The man constantly gazed at the rip in the fabric of reality whenever he had the chance. The wizards comforted and patted him on the back as they went about their business, infusing the tent structure with their mana for increased durability and resistance against the heat. The guild master did his duty, aiding his countrymen in preparing and securing the site. A couple hours went by.
Nicholas sat on a log crudely fashioned into a bench a few metres from the camp, facing the portal.
The blackness began to fold inward. The portal sections peeled off from their invisible frames, briefly retaining their structure before dissolving into nothingness.
The man charged forward towards the collapsing portal. As he dashed forward, golden lassos and fiery ropes wrapped around his body, tying his legs and hands together. Nicholas toppled over, his screams muffled by the remains of cremated trees. Tears fell from his eyes, soaking the grey soil in the salty liquid. He heard a solemn whisper in his ear, "They are in the gods' hands now. We can't lose you too."
He screamed and fought against the magical bonds constraining his limbs. It was no use. After much struggle, the guild master managed to roll onto his back. He watched helplessly as the final black section fizzled out of reality. His lips opened and closed but no sound came out. His eyes blinked continuously.
As soon as the portal had closed, the bonds vanished. Nicholas slowly staggered to his feet.
The mages slowly backed away, hands out in a placating manner. The guild master stumbled forward, crashing to his knees. "Y-you should've let me die!" He muttered, hiccuping and stumbling over his words.
Everything felt heavy and numb. His limbs' jerky motions were like trying to control lead sticks.
One of the mages spoke up in the jarring silence. "We are sorry for your loss. Your daughter and the team died in service to this nation. Their sacrifice will not be forgott-"
Midway through his speech, a massive, crude wave of red mana steam-rolled into the man, hurling him back into the line of tents.
The woman standing next to him glared. Her muscles taunt, fingers inching towards a diamond-tipped stick poking out of her pocket. She backed away slowly. "Y-you c-cannot just harm a senior researcher and get away with it!"
"Get out of my sight."
The group fled. Some propelled themselves into the distance with bursts of combusting flame. Others activated runes in their boots and followed after their comrades. Within minutes, not a single soul remained in Nicholas's presence. The world faded into blackness.