The stranger

Ren hit the ground hard. The tough soil made every bone in his body ache. His ears were ringing. He blinked up at the endless blue sky—a brilliant blue that felt utterly wrong, like a memory he couldn't grasp. A metal boot stepped into view—then another, and then dozens more, all belonging to blurred figures that raced past him.

He groaned and lifted his head, then froze.

All around him, chaos reigned. Humans and inhuman creatures clashed, their blades flashing, as blood stained the earth. It was a battlefield, and he was in the middle of it.

One side was filled with full-armored soldiers, who moved as a single, trained unit, presenting a sharp, intimidating image of discipline and uniformity. Though the majority were human, their ranks included figures with the distinctive, long, pointy ears of the elves. Their weapons and movements were meticulously synchronized, suggesting long training and a rigid hierarchy.

The opposing side was a vibrant assembly. These warriors burst with color, comprised of creatures of every kind: skin tones shifted from ochre and jade to deep crimson, and builds varied from lithe to massive. Their faces were unlike anything Ren had ever conceived. Their attire was haphazard, offering little protection; a patchwork of leather, thin fabrics, and flowing materials that hinted at speed and agility rather than defense.

The contrast was striking.

His mind spun from the overload of new sensations. Every sudden movement in his field of vision made him flinch. As the bloodshed intensified, so did his panic. Things got so intense that a severed head landed beside him, spraying his face with the metallic stench of blood and making his body tense with shock.

At the last moment, he caught a glint of metal in the corner of his eye and managed to throw himself to the side—just before the sword could pierce his lung.

The attacker, a tall, orc-like creature with a smug, almost bored expression, raised his massive weapon again. Ren tried to get up, but the thin soles of his shoes slipped on the dusty ground, and he collapsed to his knees. The enemy gave a faint smile and swung the weapon toward the blue-haired boy, who had only a split second to decide—lose a leg or be split in half.

His body reacted before his mind could. He slammed his hands against the ground, fingers clawing for grip, his knees wide apart, and shifting his weight to twist his torso and escape the blow. He braced himself for pain—but it never came.

The orc’s weapon froze mid-air. His knees buckled, and he collapsed, falling dead at Ren’s feet with several arrows in his back. But before Ren could breathe, the archer who fired the bolts was already aiming directly at him. 

Ren rolled the orc’s corpse over himself like a shield, blocking the incoming arrows until the archer eventually gave up and redirected attention toward the thick of the fighting. There, a short, red-haired girl with reddish skin was tearing through enemy lines. Her color and straight horn were unique even among the others. She looked like a mythical creature come to life from the pages of a book. She moved her massive sword and all four limbs with such fluidity that she mowed down ten, twenty men at once, then stomped on them with her monstrous heels. Even though she was fighting for her life, her movements were mesmerizing—like a deadly dance choreographed for a stage.

Ren realized instantly that if he wanted to survive, he had to avoid her. The moment he saw an opening, he shoved the corpse off himself, his blood-soaked hoodie clinging to his chest and the white-stitched name on it now dyed deep red, and ran away from the middle of the battlefield, especially from the red girl.

He moved with unnatural precision between the fallen bodies, avoiding eye contact with the dead, as if looking down would make it all too real. Despite his efforts, his gaze occasionally dropped to the faces beneath him: young, lifeless, hollow-eyed. It twisted his stomach, and the smell of blood made his nausea worse.

That hesitation proved fatal.

A man around his age, with a strangely kind face, seized the chance and stabbed a sword into Ren's stomach. At first, the man looked proud, staring at the bloodied blade embedded in Ren. But as his eyes rose, his brows furrowed.

He whispered, "Who the hell are you?"

Ren opened his mouth, but no words came out. Not just because of the pain, but because he didn't know what to say. He remembered only his name and the unsettling truth: this world wasn't his. Yet a deep instinct screamed at him: I have to live.

Ren's beetle-black eyes met the gaze of the sun-tanned man. Acting on instinct, Ren gave a faint smile, grabbed the man's sword arm, and pulled the blade from his own body. Both collapsed to the ground, falling unconscious as a sigil flared around them. The earth trembled violently, halting the battle in its tracks. All eyes turned upward. The blinding light shot a pillar into the sky, scattering the clouds above and instantly creating an infinite barrier. Some ran toward the phenomenon, but none could get through it. It held firm.

A blonde elf woman squinted, trying to make out what was happening inside the sigil. "That level of raw, unchanneled power... it shouldn't be possible," she whispered, trying to figure out how such powerful magic had been created. 

Her eyes widened as the dust cleared from the epicenter, revealing the two figures on the ground. The woman screamed, hand covering her mouth, "Zel is inside! He's on the ground." 

"Is he hurt?" 

She squinted harder. "No, he looks fine, but—there's someone else with him. A man with blue hair."

The elf woman and her companions raised their weapons toward the red-skinned girl. Then one of them, a male with a deep voice, voiced the question everyone was thinking: "Haku, what did you do?" 

Haku, the oni girl, turned to them with a blank expression, ignoring his question completely. Before anyone could react, Haku stabbed her blade into the barrier. She ground her teeth and forced the small opening wider with both hands. The glow around the gap dimmed just enough for her to reach inside and yank Ren out. She didn't even glance at the other man, whose name always slipped her mind. The barrier slammed shut with a loud, thunderous roar, as if the heavens themselves were angered by the act. Taking advantage of the momentary confusion, the oni girl grabbed the boy and disappeared before anyone could stop her. 

The battle ended in a draw, leaving both sides confused.

Ren woke up in an attic-like room, drenched in sweat as if from a nightmare. His chest ached. Panicked, he pulled up his shirt. A deep, freshly healed scar ran across his stomach that looked days old, not hours. The wound that should have killed him was now nothing more than a faint pink line.

The door slammed open. The red-skinned girl's short red hair brushed her shoulder as she walked towards him with a straight back. Her toned muscles were visible through her sleeveless shirt, and the red strips that ran across her eyes made her even more attractive. She was pretty short, which she tried to compensate for with enormous heels. Her heels struck sharply against the wooden floor. She crossed her arms at the foot of his bed, her dark horns standing straight and sharp above her brow, staring ominously at Ren.

"Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Ren nodded.

"What were you doing on the battlefield? Who sent you? Do you have anything to do with Master's disappearance? Why were you wearing those strange clothes? And how the hell are you still alive?"

The man in the white coat behind her—a doctor, presumably—interjected nervously.

"I don't think it's wise to ask so many questions at once." Haku turned on him. The doctor stammered, "I mean... he just survived a life-threatening wound. I don't think—"

"So what, you think offering him cookies would help us find Master? Should I feed him and sing him a lullaby, too?"

"That's not what I meant—"

"Oh, really? Then how did you mean it?"

The doctor swallowed hard and slipped out with a weak excuse. With no one else to take her anger out on, Haku barked at Ren: "Are you going to answer today, or should I cut out your tongue so you literally can't?"

 "Maybe if you weren't this mean, you'd get answers more easily." He hopped off the bed, ready to leave. "And as for your little interrogation? I have no idea. Trust me, if I knew who I was, I would be long gone."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, then narrowed in fury. She grabbed him roughly by the front of his white shirt, despite him being a head taller. He instinctively recoiled but held his ground, a strange confidence settling in.

"You think you can scare everyone with your brute strength?" he said.

She smirked.

"Funny, coming from someone I saved. You should be grateful." She sighed, let go, and dragged a rickety chair across the room, straddling it backward. "Fine. Let's say I believe you don't know anything. Then tell me what you do know."