The champions gathered in the central lounge of the Skywing Pavilion, a circular chamber with a glowing glass dome overhead that mirrored a soft twilight sky. Moonlight filtered through enchanted crystal leaves hanging from floating vines. For a moment, it felt more like a dream than anything else.
Takeshi Oda sat quietly, legs folded beneath him in perfect meditation form. His calloused hand rested lightly on the hilt of a training blade he'd been gifted upon arrival.
Across from him, Connor Blake was sprawled across a floating cushion, crunching into what looked like a magically grown apple. "I still can't believe we've been... kidnapped by a monk from space," he said with a wary grin. "Tell me someone else thinks this is insane."
Selene Martinez chuckled from where she sat cross-legged beside a low hovering table. "Feels like a hospital shift with better decor. But yeah, it's insane. I still don't know how my stethoscope got here with me."
"Maybe the gods have good taste," Elena Voronova murmured, stirring her tea as if calculating a chemical formula. "Or maybe they just like variety."
Diego Alvarez leaned over from the windowsill where he stood. "I've seen fire consume lives, but never reality. One second I'm pulling a kid out of a blaze, next second—boom—here. And this flame doesn't hurt me anymore."
"Your blessing?" Mei Ling asked gently, perched in the corner, her hair pinned with silver feathers that seemed to dance on their own. "It shows in how you move. Your energy is... alive."
"I guess. Still feels weird."
"You think fire's weird?" Darnell Brooks muttered. "I blinked, and I was on a roof in Cairo aiming at a weapons dealer. Next thing, some glowing runes tear a hole in the world and I fall through."
Aisha Rahman, her posture regal and still, glanced his way. "Were you supposed to shoot the man?"
"Yeah. But now I'm not sure if he was the right target. Or if that moment matters anymore."
"Maybe it does," said Youssef Al-Nasir, his voice soft and aged by wisdom. "Some of us were taken at turning points in our lives. The goddess knows more than she tells."
A quiet hum of agreement passed among them.
Sofia Rossi tilted her head, adjusting the flowing silk that trailed from her sleeves. "And what about us? Are we supposed to become friends? Or pawns in someone else's war?"
"Both," said Kwame Mensah simply, his fingers running over a crystalline tablet-like artifact he'd already managed to sync with mana. "If this is a simulation—it's one of the most advanced I've ever seen. But I don't think it is. This feels... too raw."
"I don't care what it is," grunted Connor, tossing his apple core into a hovering waste orb. "As long as we get a shot to punch something eventually."
"That's your answer to everything," Elena said dryly.
"Not true. I also like beer and sleep."
Laughter rippled through the group. Even Takeshi's eyes softened.
Amara Ntuli sat quietly near the edge of the lounge, feeding a small spectral lynx that had curled up on her lap. "None of the animals fear this place. That tells me it's safe. For now."
Selene nodded slowly. "And if it's safe now... we make the most of it."
The champions looked at each other—not yet a unit, but no longer strangers. The air held the weight of destiny, but for a single moment, they allowed themselves a breath. A laugh. A shared story.
They were not yet warriors of legend.
But they were human.
And that was a start.
---
The Watcher's Eye
Garcia leaned against the balcony of the upper deck, arms crossed as moonlight kissed the white marble rails. The soft hum of arcane energy danced in the air like a lullaby, but sleep eluded him. Not after everything.
His mind wandered—to blood, betrayal, Janette, and the sterile beeping of hospital monitors that once counted down his final breaths. But then, the voice had come.
Are you okay?
It echoed still, just behind his ears.
A flicker of light blinked in his vision—no one else noticed it. A transparent glyph spun in the corner of his eye. Then a pulse. A notification.
New Skill Awakened: [Analysis Lv. 1]
You see beneath the surface. You scale the unseen. You categorize truth.
Effect: Instinctively assess and quantify magical power, threat level, emotional state, and tactical class of observed targets.
Garcia blinked.
The world sharpened like a lens suddenly focused. When he looked down at the others mingling in the lounge, glowing blue text ghosted beside their forms. Power levels. Keywords. Personality triggers. His brain filled in gaps like a puzzle he had always trained to solve.
[Selene Martinez – Support | Light Mage]
Power Grade: B+
Threat Level: Low
Mental State: Stable | Compassionate | Fatigued
Note: Self-sacrificing tendency. Could push herself to dangerous limits.
[Takeshi Oda – Melee | Swordfighter]
Power Grade: A-
Threat Level: Moderate
Mental State: Calm | Honorable | Watchful
Note: Discipline and instinct balanced. Most likely to be the group's anchor.
[Aisha Rahman – Support | Enchanter]
Power Grade: B
Threat Level: Low
Mental State: Assertive | Idealistic | Guarded
Note: Charisma potent. A potential leader or destabilizer.
[Connor Blake – Fighter | Brawler]
Power Grade: A
Threat Level: High
Mental State: Confident | Impulsive | Loyal
Note: Dangerous under pressure. Needs strategic guidance.
[Elena Voronova – Mage | Alchemist]
Power Grade: B+
Threat Level: Medium
Mental State: Analytical | Curious | Detached
Note: Mind like a lab. Observe closely for shifts.
Kwame Mensah – Mage | Technomancer]
Power Grade: B
Threat Level: Variable
Mental State: Focused | Adaptive | Distracted
Note: Intelligence immense. Potential unpredictable.
Garcia kept scanning.
[Diego Alvarez – Fighter | Pyromancer] — Power Grade: A-
[Mei Ling – Assassin / Support] — Power Grade: B+
[Darnell Brooks – Assassin / Hunter] — Power Grade: A
[Sofia Rossi – Support / Enchanter] — Power Grade: B
[Youssef Al-Nasir – Mage / Sage] — Power Grade: B+
[Amara Ntuli – Fighter / Beastcaller] — Power Grade: A
Each label, each pulse of knowledge, lit up like a neural map across his brain.
So… this is my edge, he thought. Not brute force. Not spells or blessings. But insight. Strategy. Pattern recognition. They'll never see me coming.
He rubbed his temples. His detective instincts—the cold calculus of reading people, isolating truths, tracking lies—they had followed him here. But now, they were sharpened by something else. Something divine.
He took a deep breath, then muttered aloud, "I see you."
No one heard him.
But somewhere, he knew, someone had meant for him to see.
The Stranger Among Us
The low hum of conversation in the Skywing Pavilion drifted into a lull.
It started subtly—eyes flicking toward Garcia, then quickly away. Small shifts in posture. Muted whispers. A glance too long to be casual.
Garcia noticed immediately.
Detective instincts kicked in—body language tightening, atmosphere sharpening like a blade against stone. The ripple of attention wasn't anger. Not yet. But it was suspicion. Fear of the unknown. And he was the unknown.
Selene Martinez finally broke the silence.
"So…" She tilted her head, her voice calm but probing. "Back when the Archpriest did his... uh, prayer thing—he mentioned someone 'wasn't supposed to be summoned.'"
She let the implication hang.
All heads slowly turned toward Garcia.
Takeshi Oda's gaze was steady, unreadable. Diego Alvarez leaned back against a pillar, arms crossed. Mei Ling was watching him too, expression polite but razor-sharp.
Connor Blake didn't bother with subtlety. He pointed directly at Garcia.
"He was lookin' right at you, mate."
Aisha Rahman frowned thoughtfully. "Was it you? The mistake?"
Garcia exhaled slowly.
"I guess it was," he said, voice low but even. He pushed off the balcony rail and stepped toward the group, feeling every eye weighing him.
"What does that even mean?" Darnell Brooks muttered under his breath. "A wrong summon?"
Elena Voronova's fingers tapped nervously against her teacup. "That shouldn't be possible. Magic, especially summoning magic, follows very strict formulas. Interference is extremely rare."
Youssef Al-Nasir adjusted his glasses thoughtfully. "Unless... an outside force intervened."
"A higher power?" Sofia Rossi mused aloud, her fingers absently braiding a thread of silk into her sleeve.
Garcia gave a tight, humorless smile.
"You're all asking the wrong question."
Diego raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Enlighten us, detective."
Garcia's gaze swept across them—his [Analysis] skill flaring quietly as he measured the mood of the room: suspicion, curiosity, a simmering sense of danger.
"The right question is: Why? Why would something—or someone—drag me here when I wasn't meant to be part of the plan?"
The group fell silent.
Amara Ntuli, sitting cross-legged with her spectral lynx at her side, spoke softly.
"Maybe it wasn't a mistake. Maybe you're the real key."
Her words hung heavily between them.
Connor grunted. "Or maybe you're a bloody time bomb."
"Enough," Selene said sharply, glancing around. "None of us asked to be here. And until proven otherwise, we're in this together."
Garcia nodded to her—a silent thanks.
Still, he could feel the undercurrent shift. The seed of doubt was planted.
Takeshi Oda stood slowly, smoothing his robe. His voice was calm but carried weight.
"If you harbor secrets, Garcia-san, better to share them soon. We are warriors bound by the same battle. Distrust will kill us faster than swords."
Garcia's lips pressed into a thin line.
Share my secrets?
He barely understood what was happening to him yet. How could he explain Being X... the voice... the unspoken pact for a second chance?
No.
Not yet.
Instead, he simply said, "You'll have to trust that I'm here for the same reason as you. Survival. Redemption."
Most accepted it—barely. A few didn't.
But no one pressed further.
Not yet.
As the group settled back into uneasy chatter, Garcia turned his face toward the high windows, where the twin moons of this world hung low and full. His fists clenched at his sides.
I did ask for this
The Awakening Begins
Morning light spilled through stained glass as the thirty champions assembled within the Grand Crystal Hall, a chamber so vast it swallowed sound and shimmered with runic constellations on every marble wall.
Archpriest Caldor Velmara stood upon a raised dais, arms spread. The robe of divination around his shoulders flickered with divine glyphs.
"Today," he began, "you take your first step to understand your place in this world. Your mana. Your attunement. Your class."
Whispers flitted among the champions like birds on a wire.
Caldor raised a hand. The runes lining the walls pulsed softly in response. Five sigils blazed in the air behind him: Melee. Mage. Assassin. Fighter. Support.
"You will each approach the Prism of Souls—" he gestured to the large, floating crystal at the chamber's center, "—and offer your will, your intent, your essence."
Selene Martinez stepped forward first.
Her touch was gentle, deliberate. The crystal flared with golden light.
"Support," the archpriest said, eyes closed. "Light Mage. Confirmed."
A low gasp followed. Selene gave a short nod and returned to the group.
One by one, the champions moved forward:
Takeshi Oda: The Prism shimmered with a cold silver light.
"Melee. Swordfighter."
He bowed deeply, as if accepting an ancestral truth.
Connor Blake: The crystal flared red with his touch.
"Fighter. Brawler."
The man cracked his knuckles and grinned.
Aisha Rahman: A warm breeze circled her. The crystal pulsed violet.
"Support. Enchanter."
Elena Voronova: It responded in a violent chemical reaction of colors—blue, green, orange.
"Mage. Alchemist."
Kwame Mensah: The crystal flickered like a screen full of code.
"Mage. Technomancer."
Cheers followed each result. Conversations grew louder. The energy was infectious.
Then came Garcia's turn.
He stepped up—eyes sharp, breath slow, hand raised.
The moment his fingers brushed the crystal, the room fell quiet.
Nothing.
No flicker. No pulse. No glow.
Not even warmth.
The Prism of Souls stood still, unbothered.
A dry silence echoed, heavier than any sound.
Caldor Velmara's expression didn't change—but his eyes narrowed.
He murmured a quiet spell. The runes around Garcia pulsed… then dimmed.
Still nothing.
Connor leaned toward Diego. "Mate. Is that thing broken?"
Diego frowned. "Worked just fine for the rest of us."
Selene tilted her head, concern washing over her face.
The archpriest's voice finally broke the stillness.
"…Strange."
Garcia clenched his fists, eyes narrowing.
"Is something wrong with the crystal?"
"No," Caldor replied quietly. "You… simply have no class attunement. No magical resonance."
Garcia felt the words like ice down his spine.
"I don't understand. What does that mean?"
"It means," said Mei Ling from the side, "you don't belong here."
The words stung. Echoed. Repeated in his mind.
A mistake.
Again.
The hall whispered anew, voices uncertain.
Garcia stepped back, his face unreadable. He wanted to speak, to lash out—but something held him. Instead, he simply nodded and walked back into the line, silent as a shadow.
Selene looked at him, but didn't speak.
Even the crystal pulsed again as if mocking him—alive for everyone else… but dead for him.
The archpriest turned to the rest. "Tomorrow, your combat and mana training begins. You'll be sorted into preliminary groups based on class type. Rest well tonight. You'll need it."
But Garcia stood apart.
Classless.
Powerless.
And once again… unwanted.