The stranger

Ren hit the ground hard. The tough soil made every bone in his body ache. His ears rang as he blinked up at the endless blue sky. A metal boot stepped into view — then another, and then dozens more before vanishing in a blur. He groaned and lifted his head.

And froze.

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

One side was filled with fully armored humans and humans with long, elf-like ears, just like in the movies. On the other side, a more colorful squad gathered, made up of creatures of all kinds with different skin tones, varied builds, and faces unlike anything Ren had seen before. Their clothing was far less protective, with fabrics that barely covered or shielded their bodies.

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 ork-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, knees wide apart, shifting his weight to twist his torso and escape the blow. He braced himself for pain — but it never came.

The ork’s weapon froze mid-air. His knees buckled, and he collapsed, falling dead at Ren’s feet with several arrows in his back. The next danger, however, was the archer — now aiming directly at him.

Ren rolled the ork’s corpse over himself like a shield, blocking the incoming arrows until the archer eventually gave up and redirected attention toward the heart of the battlefield. 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 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.

But then... why did he want to live so badly?

His 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 magic circle flared around them, shooting a pillar of light into the sky and scattering the clouds above, which ended in an infinite barrier.

The earth trembled violently, halting the battle in its tracks. All eyes turned upward. Some ran toward the glowing circle, but none could get through it. The barrier held firm.

A blonde elf woman squinted, trying to make out what was happening inside the circle and why such powerful magic had been created.

The woman hysterically screamed, covering her mouth with her hand, “It’s Zel inside! He’s on the ground.”

“Is he hurt?”

She squinted harder, “No, he looks fine, but—there’s someone else with him. Another man with blue hair.”

She and her companions raised their weapons toward the red-skinned girl. Then one of them, a male with a deep voice, asked the question everyone was thinking:

“Haku, what did you do?”

The oni girl named Haku turned to them with a blank expression, ignoring his question completely. She pointed toward the blue-haired boy.

“Who is that? Is he with you all?”

The armored fighters exchanged confused looks. No one recognized him, but all wanted answers—even if it meant capturing and threatening an unknown stranger. Before anyone could react, Haku stabbed her blade into the barrier, grinding her teeth. She 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, not even looking 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 confused draw.

Ren woke up in an attic-like room, drenched in sweat as if from a nightmare. His chest ached like all the air had been knocked out of him. Panicked, he pulled up his shirt. A deep, freshly healed scar ran across his stomach.

The door slammed open. Haku entered, her heels striking sharply against the wooden floor. She crossed her arms at the foot of his bed.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Ren nodded.

“Who sent you? What were you doing on the battlefield? Do you have anything to do with Master’s disappearance? What kind of power do you have? 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 what did you mean?”

The doctor swallowed hard and slipped out with a lame excuse.

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 questions — I have no idea.”

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.”