Magic II

"Well, I came from another world," I said, meeting their gazes. "I was on an exploration mission when I got caught in some kind of anomaly. Next thing I knew, I woke up here."

The three of them stared at me, their expressions filled with doubt. I couldn't blame them—I hadn't exactly provided much detail. But there were reasons for that.

"It's complicated," I admitted. "The simplest way to put it is that I'm lost, and until I figure out what brought me here and how to leave, I need resources to survive. That's why I've been using my surroundings—for sustainment."

"Another world, huh?" Thorus muttered, rubbing his chin as he stared at the truck's ceiling. "I've read a few stories about things like that, but I highly doubt they actually happen."

"I've read about similar incidents as well," Ytellia added. "But those were deliberate summonings, not accidents. And if that were the case, the land wouldn't have rejected you. The nature itself sees you as an outsider—that would be an insult if you were a summoned guest."

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied me. "I understand that you didn't come here by choice, but the way you've treated the land… it's not exactly kind. Is that normal in your world?"

I hesitated, searching for the right words. "I'm sorry, but... I guess so?" My gaze drifted as I considered my answer. "Though, to be fair, we don't usually find ourselves stranded on a life-sustaining world."

"I see. Perhaps you are a victim in all this," Ytellia said, her tone softer now. "But if I may offer some advice, I suggest you limit the damage you're causing to the land—"

The truck came to a stop.

"We've arrived," I said, cutting Ytellia off before she could finish. I had no desire to hear more of her words. "I'll go first. Be careful on the ladders—you might slip."

I activated my comms. "LANA, expand the recon perimeter. I suspect they're not alone."

"Certainly," LANA responded.

It was already night, almost dinner time. However, the hub remained alive with automated activity. Lights illuminated every corner, ensuring there were no blind spots for the working drones.

I turned my head back toward the trio. Naturally, their expressions were filled with awe. The sheer scale of the hub was staggering—immense, overwhelming. Even the massive truck we arrived in felt dwarfed by the towering structures around us. The only machines that seemed small in this place were the combat drones, designed specifically for dogfighting and offense.

From the towering cranes unloading supplies to the endless conveyor belts transporting them to storage, every piece of infrastructure was built on a scale almost beyond belief. Floodlights loomed like artificial suns, casting stark shadows over the metallic landscape. One could hardly believe such structures were made by human hands. But, of course, they weren't. The construction drones had built everything.

***

Ytellia gazed upward—not at the sky, but at the colossal scaffolding stretching into the distance, it was unknown but the materials used seems to be sturdy. Encasing it were vast walls of what appeared to be… glass? Yes, it was glass—used in place of bricks or other conventional materials. Through its transparent surface, she could see the interior of the structure clearly. And yet, she had no idea what she was looking at.

She felt a sense of enthusiasm about this. And that was the only reason she came.

It was when the nature had called her name—a summon that interrupted her studies. She had been preparing for the entrance exam of the Kingdom's most prestigious academy when she dozed off, slipping into a dream. It was eerily vivid, its details astonishingly precise.

But that was precisely the problem. The dream was too intricate, too foreign, its meaning unclear.

When she told her mother, the reaction was unexpected—shock flashed in her mother's eyes before she abruptly stood and bolted from the room as if in a panic. The reason only became clear later, when the summons came.

She had been called by nature itself.

She frowned when she heard it. To her, it felt like a cruel joke. Druids were naturally attuned to nature, but she was only half-druid. She had never believed herself capable of such a connection. Even when she underwent the appraisal at the designated age—when young mages were expected to awaken their Talent—she had received nothing. No gift, no affinity. Only silence. Her father had been deeply disappointed.

And now, after years of choosing to forge her own path as a mage, relying on nothing but sheer effort, nature had decided to call upon her? It felt like an insult, a mockery of her struggle. To suddenly be granted druidic power after all this time—it was a cruel twist of fate.

She had been provided an escort—twenty soldiers, including Thorus and Hanz, to ensure her safety. She was tasked with investigating—and perhaps subjugating—the source of the nature's distress. And when she succeeded, she would receive a talent worthy of a true druid.

But that wasn't the reason she accepted it. She accepted because of the dream she saw.

Towering concrete jungles stretched far beyond the horizon, their sheer scale overwhelming. Enormous walls—massive, unyielding, perhaps the most indestructible structures ever built—stood as barriers that not even the mightiest creature on Maia could hope to bring down. And within those walls was a human. Clad in dark, form-fitting armor, he radiated something unsettling—an aura of malice.

She felt a thrill stir within her—a curiosity.

However, her upbeat mood quickly soured when Thorus leaned in and whispered to Hanz.

"Do it."

Thorus tapped Hanz's shoulder—the man closest to Zeervin, positioned right in front of them.

Without hesitation, Hanz unsheathed his sword from his left waist, raising it for a vertical strike. Ytellia would never forget what happened next.

As someone with druidic blood, Ytellia was highly attuned to her surroundings—able to sense even the slightest disturbances. And at that moment, she felt something. Something wrong.

Time seemed to slow, nearly freezing. Her gaze drifted away from Hanz's blade and toward the mounted weapons atop the walls—towering constructs radiating a menacing presence. Their sights were locked onto them.

Not just one.

All of them.

A total of seven.

And then—

A single shot.

In an instant, Hanz was gone. Not a trace of blood. Not a shred of flesh. He had been erased from existence.

"Captain, behind me!" Time snapped back into motion. Ytellia screamed as she grabbed the hem of Thorus's shirt, yanking him with enough force to make him stumble behind her. Years of magical training took over as she thrust her hands forward, channeling mana into a defensive barrier.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr—

A broken symphony of destruction echoed across the vicinity as a relentless barrage of projectiles crashed into her barrier.

Ytellia gritted her teeth, enduring as each projectile battered her barrier. The force behind them was immense—each impact causes her mana usage to fluctuate. She wasn't sure how much longer she could hold out. Escape seemed impossible, especially with the sheer power of the weapons surrounding them.

"LANA, stop!"

A voice rang out—Zeervin's. But his command did nothing to halt the relentless assault. The weapons continued their merciless barrage.

Then, suddenly, the intensity of the attack weakened. But not because of Zeervin.

Amid the chaotic symphony of destruction, another sound broke through—a scream.

"GAAAAH!!!"

A cry of agony from outside the wall.

Ytellia's eyes darted beyond the shimmering magical barrier. Through the cascading flashes of energy and dust, she saw it—some of the weapons had shifted their aim.

And in that moment, realization struck.

The knights had arrived.

They were launching a siege.

But alas, it will be futile.

"No…" 

The sheer, overwhelming power of this place was beyond anything they could contend with.

"Captain, the knights will be wiped out!" Ytellia cried, panic creeping into her voice. But the deafening roar of destruction swallowed her words. It was impossible to tell if anyone had heard her.

"LANA, I will kill myself if you don't stop!" Zeervin's voice tore through the chaos.

And just like that—everything stopped.

The relentless barrage ceased in an instant. Silence fell upon the battlefield, thick and suffocating.

Ytellia's knees buckled. The sudden relief of pressure, coupled with her near-depleted mana, sent her collapsing onto the ground. She gasped for breath, her body trembling from magical exhaustion. In mere minutes, she had nearly drained herself dry.

As the dust and smoke settled, the ruined landscape slowly became visible. And then—she saw him.

Zeervin stood amidst the wreckage, holding something in his hand. It was aimed at his head. His gaze, however, was fixed elsewhere—to their right. Then, slowly, he turned toward them, lowering the object.

His face was twisted with fury. He was livid.

His lips parted, and when he finally spoke, his voice was unnervingly calm.

"The people outside are all dead." His eyes bore into them, cold and flat, "Now, explain."

Ytellia couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Zeervin's overwhelming gaze crushed any words she might have formed. Even Thorus—an arrogant fool—had already lowered his head, avoiding eye contact. There was no bravado. No defiance. Only silence.