The train to Shibuya rolled steadily on the tracks, its mechanical hum the only constant in a world where everything else seemed to be shifting. Mikasa, Kenneth, and Emi sat together, the neon lights of Tokyo flashing past the windows, casting intermittent glows on their faces.

Kenneth, his posture rigid, stared out of the window, his eyes wide with curiosity and confusion. “You’re telling me,” he began slowly, turning to Emi, “that this entire train is not powered by horses, or magic, but by this… ‘electricity?’”

Emi, clearly enjoying the conversation, nodded enthusiastically. “That’s right! Electricity powers everything here—lights, trains, phones, you name it. It’s the most basic thing in modern life.”

Kenneth’s brow furrowed in disbelief. “How do you harness this ‘electricity’? Do you summon it, like a mage would control lightning?”

Mikasa, seated next to them, gave a small smile. She’d been hearing Kenneth’s bewildered questions for most of the day, and while it was still amusing, she couldn’t help but feel sympathy for him. It was like explaining an entirely new reality to someone who had just stepped out of a medieval novel.

Emi chuckled. “It’s not exactly like summoning lightning. It’s generated at power plants—huge facilities that create electricity using natural resources like wind, water, or even nuclear energy.”

Kenneth blinked, his expression grim. “Nuclear? That sounds like a weapon. Do you mean to tell me your people use a force of mass destruction to power their homes?”

Mikasa laughed softly. “Not exactly. Nuclear power can be dangerous, but it’s used to create energy safely... most of the time.”

Kenneth shook his head, staring out the window again. “Your world is both incredible and terrifying. You wield the forces of nature with ease, yet you speak of these things as if they are everyday occurrences.”

“Welcome to modern life,” Emi said, grinning. “Technology is pretty mind-blowing if you think about it.”

Kenneth’s gaze lingered on the cityscape, the towering buildings and neon signs, all powered by a force he couldn’t fully comprehend. “In Azura, such things would be considered witchcraft or the work of gods.”

Emi winked at him. “Here, it’s just called engineering.”

The train slowed slightly as it approached the next station, and Kenneth leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he spotted a vending machine on the platform. His previous encounter with a vending machine had left him perplexed, and now, seeing more of them lined up neatly, he turned to Mikasa, his tone cautious.

“These boxes,” he said, pointing to the row of machines. “They dispense food and drink without the aid of a person. I’ve seen them, and I still don’t understand. Are they some sort of automated merchant?”

Emi burst into laughter, covering her mouth as she tried to hold it in. “Pretty much! You put in money, press a button, and it gives you whatever you asked for. No magic required.”

Kenneth’s eyes darkened with suspicion. “So, you feed the machine coins, and in exchange, it offers you sustenance?”

Mikasa grinned. “Exactly. It's like a tiny shop, but with no one behind the counter.”

Kenneth stared at the vending machines as if they were suspicious creatures lurking in the shadows. “Where I come from, such a thing would never exist. People earn their meals through labor, hunting, or trade. Not by appeasing a strange box.”

Emi leaned in, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, we don’t have to worry about hunting for food here. The biggest danger is choosing which soda to get.”

Kenneth gave her a dubious look. “In Azura, choosing one’s drink is the least of our concerns.”

Emi smirked. “Different world, different problems.”

As the train pulled away from the station, Kenneth’s eyes wandered back to the screens inside the train car, which displayed station updates and advertisements for the latest anime series and consumer electronics. The colorful images of fantastical characters and sleek gadgets flashed in front of him, and his confusion deepened.

“These… ‘televisions,’” he said, his tone cautious again. “They show moving pictures of people, but the people are not truly there. Are they trapped inside these screens? Is it some kind of imprisonment?”

Mikasa stifled a laugh, though she couldn’t help but marvel at how alien the modern world must have seemed to him. “No, it’s just a broadcast. The images are sent from a central location and displayed on screens. No one’s actually inside the TV.”

Kenneth seemed unconvinced. “And these people are… performers? Actors, you called them?”

“Yep!” Emi jumped in. “They act out stories, like plays. Only instead of being on a stage, they’re filmed with cameras and then shown to people all over the world.”

Kenneth’s eyes narrowed further. “Your world seems obsessed with illusions and devices. In Azura, we value what is real—hard work, training, and honor. Here, it seems you can conjure anything you wish with the press of a button.”

Emi shrugged. “We like convenience. Why work harder when you can work smarter?”

Kenneth leaned back in his seat, his gaze never leaving the television screen. “It is strange to think that people would prefer to live in such an artificial world. In Azura, the land and its people are everything. Here, you speak of machines and devices as if they are living beings.”

Mikasa, sensing the deeper conflict brewing in Kenneth’s mind, placed a hand on his arm. “It’s different, yes. But not everything here is artificial. People still care about family, honor, and hard work. We just have different ways of doing things.”

Kenneth’s expression softened slightly, though his wariness remained. “Perhaps. But I have much to learn about this place. I do not know if I can ever grow accustomed to it.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

While Kenneth and Emi continued their back-and-forth, Mikasa’s thoughts drifted once again, this time to a place she hadn’t visited in years—her childhood, the life she had shared with Yuki, her younger sister.

Yuki had been her constant companion, her shadow. Even though she was two years younger, Yuki had idolized Mikasa, following her everywhere, laughing at all her jokes, and begging her to play games or tell stories. Mikasa had loved those moments—their shared giggles, the way Yuki’s eyes lit up whenever Mikasa took her hand.

But then Yuki had fallen ill. What started as a simple cold quickly turned into something far more sinister. The doctors had tried everything, but nothing worked. And before Mikasa could truly understand what was happening, Yuki was gone.

Her death had torn a hole in their family, a hole that was never really healed. Mikasa’s mother, once a gentle, loving woman, became consumed by grief. She withdrew from the world, her warmth replaced by an icy distance. The days of singing and laughter were gone, replaced by a strict regimen of rules and expectations.

Mikasa had learned to live under her mother’s new rules. Her mother’s love was still there, buried under layers of grief and fear, but it was expressed in ways that suffocated Mikasa. Every decision she made was scrutinized. Every step she took was carefully monitored.

“Take your vitamins,” her mother would say, her voice devoid of the warmth it once held. “You need to stay healthy. I don’t want to lose you like we lost Yuki.”

Mikasa had nodded each time, swallowing the pills and biting back her frustration. She understood her mother’s fear, but that didn’t make it any easier to live with the constant pressure. Her mother’s concern had turned into overprotectiveness, bordering on obsession.

And then there was the constant battle over her future.

“You’ll study medicine,” her mother had insisted, her voice firm and unwavering. “It’s the only respectable career. You need to make something of yourself, Mikasa.”

But Mikasa had no interest in medicine. Her passion had always been history—ancient civilizations, long-forgotten legends, the stories hidden within the pages of old books. She had spent hours reading about the rise and fall of empires, about great heroes and tragic villains. The idea of spending her life helping people in hospitals, while noble, wasn’t what she wanted.

The night before her high school graduation, the tension between her and her mother had come to a head. “History? You want to study history? You’ll be wasting your life, Mikasa!” her mother had screamed, her face pale with anger.

“It’s not a waste!” Mikasa had shouted back. “I don’t want to be a doctor! I don’t want to live my life for you! I want to live it for me!”

The argument had left scars on both of them. Her mother had reluctantly agreed to let her pursue her dreams, but their relationship had never been the same. Mikasa had gone on to study history at the University of Tokyo, but her mother’s disapproval still loomed over her like a shadow.

Mikasa’s father had been more supportive, but his gentle voice had always been drowned out by her mother’s harsh words. He had helped her financially, but there was always an unspoken tension between her parents—a tension that Mikasa carried with her.

She loved her mother, of course. But she couldn’t ignore the way Yuki’s death had shattered their family. Her mother had never really recovered, and in some ways, neither had Mikasa.

Mikasa blinked, forcing herself to return to the present. She couldn’t afford to lose herself in the past right now—not when there was so much at stake in her new role as Archivist.

Kenneth’s voice cut through her thoughts, still full of curiosity and confusion. “You say your people value knowledge,” he said, addressing Emi. “But do they also value strength? I’ve seen no warriors in your city, no guards, no knights. How do you defend yourselves?”

Emi raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “We don’t really have knights running around. But we’ve got the police—they’re kind of like modern-day knights. They keep the peace.”

Kenneth frowned. “I have seen no one armed. Are your people not vulnerable to attack?”

Mikasa cut in, sensing Kenneth’s growing unease. “It’s different here, Kenneth. We don’t have the same threats as Azura. Most people live peacefully, without the need for weapons.”

Kenneth grunted. “In Azura, we live by the sword because danger is ever-present. To be unarmed is to invite death.”

Emi shrugged. “Well, we’ve got other ways of protecting ourselves. Besides, we don’t go around getting into battles every day. It’s not as dangerous here as it is in your world.”

Kenneth’s gaze darkened. “Perhaps not. But I still find it difficult to trust a society that relies on machines to defend it.”

Mikasa couldn’t help but smile. “You’ll get used to it. Not every world needs knights and warriors.”

Suddenly, the train jolted, screeching to a stop so abruptly that passengers were thrown from their seats. Mikasa’s head snapped forward, her vision blurring for a moment as the train’s sudden halt jarred her out of her seat.

Kenneth was up in an instant, his instincts kicking in as he steadied himself, hand on his lance. Emi, too, had been thrown forward but quickly scrambled to her feet, her eyes wide with confusion.

“What the hell just happened?” Emi asked, looking around at the panicked passengers.

Mikasa winced, clutching her head as a sharp pain shot through her skull. The throbbing was intense, like something was clawing at her mind, trying to break through. She felt a sense of danger—something was wrong, very wrong.

“I can feel something,” Mikasa gasped, her breath shaky. “Something’s outside the train. It’s… dangerous.”

Kenneth’s grip tightened on his lance. “I sense it too. There’s a threat nearby.”

Without hesitation, Kenneth jumped onto one of the seats and pried open the emergency hatch on the roof of the train. In a fluid motion, he pulled himself up and out, disappearing through the opening.

“Kenneth, wait!” Mikasa called after him, but her voice was weak, and the pain in her head intensified, making it hard to think straight.

Emi rushed to Mikasa’s side, worry etched across her face. “Mikasa, are you okay? You’re pale. Do you need to sit down?”

Mikasa shook her head, though the throbbing in her skull made her want to collapse. “No… it’s not that. There’s something wrong… out there.”

They both turned toward the windows, but the tunnel outside was pitch-black, offering no clues to what was happening. Still, Mikasa knew something—something dangerous—was approaching. She could feel it, like a cold shadow creeping closer.

Her head throbbed harder, and she staggered, clutching her forehead as the world seemed to spin around her. She could barely make out Emi’s voice, distant and concerned.

Then, a figure emerged from the far end of the train car, stepping out of the shadows.

The figure was cloaked in black, its face hidden beneath a deep hood. In its hand, it carried a strange weapon—a gun, sleek and angular, with an eerie glow emanating from its barrel.

Mikasa’s heart stopped. She couldn’t move. Her powers didn’t work here. She was defenseless.

Emi, still focused on Mikasa, hadn’t noticed the figure approaching from behind. “Mikasa, you really need to sit—”

“Emi!” Mikasa gasped, but the words came out as a strained whisper.

The figure raised the gun, aiming it directly at Mikasa’s chest. Its movements were smooth, precise—like a trained assassin.

Before the trigger could be pulled, a blur of movement swept past Mikasa and Emi. Kenneth dropped down from the ceiling hatch, his lance gleaming as he struck the gun with the butt of his weapon, sending it clattering across the floor. The hooded figure stumbled back, momentarily disarmed.

Kenneth stood protectively in front of Mikasa, his stance low and defensive. “Stay behind me,” he growled, his voice thick with warning.

The figure, regaining its composure, reached into its cloak and pulled out a small black sphere. It tossed the sphere at Kenneth’s feet with a quick flick of the wrist.

Before anyone could react, the sphere emitted a deafening, high-pitched sound, followed by a blinding flash of light.

Mikasa instinctively shielded her eyes, her heart racing as the light consumed the car. For a moment, everything was white—an endless, brilliant white.

When the light faded and Mikasa’s vision returned, the figure was gone. The train car was empty, save for the three of them.

Kenneth stood, his lance still poised, his eyes scanning the car for any lingering threats. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

Mikasa shook her head, still dazed but unharmed. “No… but what was that?”

Kenneth’s expression remained grim as he lowered his lance. “I do not know. But whatever it was, it’s after you.”