Thresholds

The world dissolved into a swirling vortex of black.

One moment, Leo, a seasoned special forces operative, was navigating the labyrinthine corridors of a covert facility, the next, he found himself sprawled beneath the watchful gaze of ancient trees, their branches reaching towards the heavens like gnarled fingers.

 "What in the world...?" he muttered, pushing himself up, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings.

"Is this some kind of new black ops training site? They're really stepping up their game with the realism."

The air hung heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, a symphony of unfamiliar chirps and rustles filling his ears.

Gone was the sterile hum of technology, replaced by the untamed pulse of the wilderness.

 He ran a hand through his close-cropped hair, the feeling of leaves and dirt clinging to his fingers a stark contrast to the usual sleek feel of his tactical gear.

 "Okay," he muttered to himself, "time for a sitrep. Lost in the woods, no comms, no backup. Classic."

His stomach chose that moment to voice its displeasure with a loud growl.

 Scanning the area, he spotted a cluster of what looked like edible berries hanging from a nearby tree.

 He reached out, already imagining the sweet burst of juice, when a furry blur launched itself from the branches, landing squarely on his outstretched hand.

 A small, indignant squirrel chattered furiously, its tiny claws digging into his skin.

 "Whoa there, little guy," Leo chuckled, gently pulling his hand back.

 "Looks like someone's got a territorial streak. Fine, more for you then, you greedy little…"

He continued his trek through the dense undergrowth, the trees gradually thinning as he approached what appeared to be a village.

 It was a sorry sight, a collection of crumbling stone houses huddled together as if seeking protection from the encroaching forest.

The thatched roofs sagged, and an air of neglect hung over the place like a shroud.

As he stepped into the clearing, he was met with a barrage of wary stares.

The villagers, clad in roughspun tunics and worn leather, eyed him with a mixture of suspicion and fear.

His modern tactical gear, designed to blend into urban environments, stood out like a sore thumb in this rustic setting.

 He felt like a cosplayer who'd stumbled onto the wrong convention.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the largest of the houses, his movements radiating authority.

 He was a tall, imposing man, clad in gleaming chainmail and sporting a meticulously groomed mustache that would make a walrus envious.

 A sword hung at his hip, its polished surface reflecting the sunlight.

 "You there!" the man boomed, his voice echoing through the silent village.

"State your business! Why do you trespass upon these lands?"

"Easy there, big fella," Leo said, raising his hands in a gesture of peace.

"I'm just a traveler. Got a bit lost, is all." He tried to project an air of harmlessness, a skill honed from years of undercover operations.

The man, who Leo now assumed was some sort of local lord or knight, narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing him from head to toe.

"Lost?" he scoffed, his hand instinctively moving towards the hilt of his sword.

"Your attire speaks of no peaceful journey. You carry the stench of deceit upon you." This guy clearly wasn't buying his act.

"Look, I can explain," Leo started, but the knight, who he'd overheard someone address as Sir Cedric, wasn't interested in explanations.

 With a snarl, he drew his sword, the polished steel glinting menacingly in the afternoon sun.

 "Enough of your lies! Prepare to face the consequences of your intrusion!"

Leo, unarmed and clearly outmatched, had no choice but to evade.

 Sir Cedric's initial attack was a predictable overhead swing, easily dodged with a swift side-step.

 The second, a thrust aimed at his chest, was parried with an almost instinctive movement, Leo's hand shooting out to deflect the blade with surprising precision.

It was like his body was moving on autopilot, anticipating and reacting to Sir Cedric's attacks with an uncanny awareness he'd never possessed before.

 *This is… different*, he thought, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

 He felt a surge of… something, a heightened sense of perception, as if time itself had slowed down.

 He could see the subtle shift in Sir Cedric's weight, the minute twitch in his hand that telegraphed his next move.

 Had the stress of the situation triggered some latent ability?

 Or was this something more…?

"Not bad," Sir Cedric grunted, his voice laced with a hint of respect, "but it won't be enough." The glint in his eyes sharpened, his grip on the sword tightening.

 "Now, let's see how you handle this…"

Leo, a seasoned special forces operative, wasn't accustomed to waking up disoriented in a damp, unfamiliar forest.

 Gone was the sterile hum of the operations room, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the chirping of unseen birds.

 The acrid smell of gunpowder clinging to his tactical gear was overwhelmed by the earthy scent of moss and decaying wood.

 He sat up, his mind reeling.

 His last memory was the blinding flash of the experimental portal device… and now this.

 Medieval-looking trees, impossibly thick and ancient, towered over him.

 He was dressed in his standard combat fatigues, utterly out of place.

"This isn't right," he muttered, running a hand through his close-cropped hair.

 The portal was supposed to be a short jump, a tactical maneuver.

 This felt more like… time travel.

His military training kicked in.

 Panic was a luxury he couldn't afford.

 He took stock: standard issue combat knife, a few protein bars tucked in a pouch, and a uselessly futuristic comm device.

 No backup, no extraction plan.

 He was alone.

As the sun climbed higher, casting dappled shadows across the forest floor, Leo began to explore.

 He moved with the practiced silence of a predator, his senses heightened.

 He needed information, resources, and most importantly, a way back.

Suddenly, a blur of motion caught his eye.

 Two figures, clad in what appeared to be leather armor, emerged from the trees.

 One, a woman with fiery red hair that cascaded down her back, possessed an otherworldly beauty.

 Her eyes, the color of molten gold, fixed on him with an unnerving intensity.

 Beside her stood a man, his face grim and weathered, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

Leo raised his hands, a gesture of peace.

 He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, the man drew his sword.

 "Hold, fiend!" the man barked, his voice rough.

"What dark sorcery brings you to these woods?"

The red-haired woman, however, remained silent, her gaze unwavering.

 She seemed more curious than hostile.

 Leo tried again.

"I mean no harm," he said slowly, choosing his words carefully.

"I… I am lost."

The man, who Leo later learned was Sir Cedric, a knight in service to a nearby lord, was unconvinced.

He advanced, sword pointed at Leo's throat.

 "Lost? Your tongue speaks of lands unknown. Confess your wicked purpose!"

Just as the sword was about to descend, Leo felt a strange surge of energy coursing through him.

 His reflexes, already honed to a razor's edge, sharpened further.

 Time seemed to slow.

 With a speed that surprised even himself, he sidestepped the blow, the blade whistling past his ear.

 Sir Cedric stumbled forward, off balance.

This wasn't his usual speed.

 This was something… more.

 He felt a strange warmth spreading through his limbs, a sense of power he'd never experienced before.

 The golden-eyed woman, Aurora, tilted her head, a flicker of amusement in her gaze.

 Her lips curled into a subtle smile.

 This was just the beginning of Leo's bizarre advent in a world far removed from his own.