Chapter 1: 1 | The Gate of Heroes

Lunara stood proud and tall, a fierce warrior bathed in the blood of her enemies. The ties between the two empires had boiled over, reaching a point of no return. As a mere commander in the vast Empire of Dawn, she had been thrust onto the frontlines of this devastating conflict, where her sword would be her only ally.

"There she is! The Savior!"

The soldiers called out to her, but Lunara knew that she was no savior. She was just a warrior, doing what she must to defend her kingdom and her people. And so she plunged into the fray, her sword pulsing with the raw energy of her mana.

With each swing of her blade, the air crackled and sparked, and enemies fell before her in great, sweeping arcs. The ground shook with the force of her strikes, and the battlefield was awash in a sea of blood.

But through it all, Lunara remained centered, her breath calm and steady. For she knew that the true test of a warrior was not in the heat of battle, but in the moments of quiet reflection that followed. And so, with every step and every swing of her sword, she remained true to her purpose, a force of nature that could not be denied.

Time flew by in a blur, the hours melting away like snow in the sun. Lunara's body, weary and battered from the battle, finally gave out, and she collapsed to the ground.

Several soldiers rushed at her, their swords glinting in the dying light of the sun. Lunara's mana reserves were all but gone, and her body was shattered, but her spirit remained unbroken. And then, in the midst of the chaos, a massive fireball hurtled toward her, a blazing orb of death and destruction.

Boom.

The impact was catastrophic, sending shockwaves rippling through the earth and searing the ground with flames. The soldiers around her were consumed in a fiery inferno, their screams lost in the roar of the blast. But through it all, Lunara remained, a lone figure standing amidst the ruins, her mana still burning bright.

"This is not the end of your journey," the mage beside her spoke, his voice filled with otherworldly power. "Our Empire may fall, but you will not fall with it. You are meant for greater things."

"I will not leave this battle," she replied, determination etched on her face. "This is where I will make my final stand."

"Rest now, my child," he whispered, his voice soothing and calming. "But know that the barriers between worlds are breaking down, and the very fabric of causation is fading. You will find your way back here, I promise you that. The threads of fate are not yet done with you."

*****

Lunara's eyes snapped open, and she gasped for breath as the cold, hard ground pressed against her back. For a moment, she lay there, disoriented and confused, trying to piece together what had happened. She remembered falling, falling through the sky, and then...nothing. And now, she was here, wherever "here" was.

Struggling to sit up, she groaned as the weight of her armor bore down on her. It was heavier than she remembered, as though someone had added several pounds of steel to it while she slept. But that was impossible, wasn't it? Or had something happened during her fall?

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, a sudden burst of light illuminated the area, blinding her for a moment. Blinking rapidly, she tried to focus on the figure standing in front of her.

"Who the hell are you?" the man demanded, his voice sharp and wary.

Despite her grogginess, she summoned the strength to respond. "Lunara, Highborn of Enviterra," she declared, her voice steady and clear.

The man's frown deepened as he took in her blood-soaked armor. "You're bleeding," he observed with concern.

"Quite so," she admitted, gritting her teeth against the pain that radiated through her body.

Without hesitation, the man stepped forward, his hands deftly working to remove the tattered remnants of her clothing. "Let me get those off of you," he said, his tone gentle yet firm as if he were accustomed to taking charge in a crisis.

As he carefully peeled away the layers of thick, white armor, her injuries were revealed in gruesome detail. Scattered across her body were faded scars, evidence of past battles that she had somehow survived. But one wound, in particular, caught his eye - a gaping puncture in her abdomen that threatened to spill her life force onto the ground. Only the coagulated blood surrounding the wound kept her from bleeding out entirely.

Despite the severity of her injuries, she remained stoic, not so much as flinch as he worked to remove the armor. He winced at the sight of her wounds. "This isn't good," he muttered, his voice thick with concern.

With practiced ease, he withdrew a rectangular object from his pants and spoke into it. "Can we get a healer up on the fifteenth floor? I've got someone bleeding out right now."

Her eyes darted around, taking in her surroundings with a sharpness honed by years of survival. She could tell that they were suspended high above the ground, a dizzying altitude made all too clear by the crystal-clear window through which she peered. But what kind of structure could soar so tall? And why was the light pouring down from the ceiling so bright and unfiltered, unlike the typical auburn glow of mana crystals?

Furrowing her brow, she barely had time to register the sound of a bell before the room was awash with white-clad figures, each brandishing a bewildering array of tools. As one of the women approached her with a hand outstretched, a verdant luminescence suffused the air around her wound.

Healing magic.

"Keep her steady," a voice barked. "And someone fetch a sedative. We need her under before we can begin the operation."

A sedative? The implications tugged at the edge of her consciousness, elusive as a half-remembered dream. But before she could even begin to formulate her thoughts, the darkness rushed in like a flood, obliterating her awareness.

*****

Her eyelids shot open as if spring-loaded, and she gasped as pain lanced through her battered body. Grimacing, she surveyed her surroundings, taking in the sterile white walls and crisp linens of the bed in which she lay. A bed that, she noted with a jolt, exuded a regal air despite its minimalist design.

Tensing her muscles, she willed mana to flow through her, but only emptiness greeted her efforts.

"Careful now," a man's cautioned, jolting Lunara out of her daze and drawing her attention to a shadowy figure lounging in a nearby chair. The man's eyes were fixated on a trio of flickering screens that emitted a hypnotic glow, each one pulsing with data and information.

The room they were in was small and unassuming, yet it seemed to offer a sense of comfort and security that was hard to come by in this strange and unfamiliar world. As she scanned her surroundings, Lunara noticed an array of curious contraptions, each one more bizarre and mystifying than the last. She couldn't even begin to guess what their purpose was, but something about them felt oddly familiar.

"Who are you?" she demanded, wariness creeping into her tone.

"Call me Magnus," he replied absently, his attention still fixed on the screens. "And how are your injuries?"

"They'll suffice," she muttered, her gaze flicking about the room.

"Excellent," he said, swiveling to face her. "It'll take a few days for you to recover, but take all the time you need."

"Why am I here?" she demanded, struggling to sit upright despite the pain that wracked her body.

"I'm as clueless as you are," he said with a shrug. "You just fell out of nowhere one day. And while Gates have been popping up more and more lately, you're the first normal human we've seen. Peculiar, to say the least."

"Gates?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

His frown deepened. "You don't know, do you?"

"I..." She hesitated, her memories of the battle a jumbled mess.

"A warrior," he murmured his gaze roving over her pointed ears. "But what's with your ears?"

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"What do you mean?" she asked, baffled.

"They're pointed," he remarked.

"As I said, I am Highborn," she replied haughtily.

"An Elf?" he ventured.

"That is another term we use for ourselves," she confirmed, her chin held high.

He gaped at her, his eyes alight with incredulity. "Is your hair naturally white, as well?" he blurted out.

"I am of Elven royalty, so yes," she replied coolly, shooting him a withering look.

"What are normal Elf hair colors?" he pressed on, his curiosity clearly piqued.

"Blonde, or yellow depending on the family."

"You live in trees?" he asked, sounding bewildered.

"We had an alliance with the Empire of Dawn, so we have migrated," she replied, her gaze flicking over him.

"Never heard of it," he muttered, shaking his head.

"Then you must not be from around here," she said, exasperation creeping into her voice. "It is one of the two biggest empires in the Rolandia Continent."

"That's...not a thing either," he said, his expression growing more confused by the moment.

"What do you plan on doing with me?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

"What do you mean?" he replied, his tone guarded.

"Am I not your prisoner?" she pressed, her fingers clenching into fists.

"You're the one who fell into my skyscraper," he said, his voice tinged with annoyance.

"Is this what this building is called?" she asked, her confusion mounting.

"That's beside the point," he snapped, clearly irritated. "What you're telling me is that you aren't a Hunter?"

"I am a Warrior," she declared.

"No, I meant..." he trailed off, shaking his head in frustration. "Never mind. Look, you're not my prisoner, but you can't just wander around. I have some questions you need to answer," he said, his eyes flicking over to her.

"I will answer to the best of my ability," she replied, meeting his gaze with a steady one of her own.

"I want to check something," he pondered, his brow furrowing in concentration. "Can you say 'status'?"

She frowned, thrown off guard by his question. "Of course. I know Old English," she said, her voice laced with confusion.

"No, I meant like say the word, 'status'," he clarified, his tone impatient.

"Alright," she paused, "Status," she enunciated carefully.

Her eyes widened in surprise as a strange screen suddenly appeared in front of her, causing her to flinch and try to swat it away. But to her bewilderment, her hand simply passed through it as if it were made of air.

Magnus spoke calmly, "Don't panic. Can you see it?"

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded cautiously. "Yes."

"Good," he said. "Now, focus and think 'yes'."

Lunara took a deep breath, centering herself, and tried to think "yes" with as much concentration as she could muster. Suddenly, another screen materialized before her, causing her to gasp in surprise.

"What sorcery is this?" she demanded, eyes narrowing as she scrutinized the bewildering display of numerals before her.

Magnus merely waved a dismissive hand. "No need to worry about those. What's truly important is your level."

"One," she replied, uncertainly.

Magnus's eyes widened, his head tilting to the side in confusion. "One? That can't be right. Are you absolutely certain?"

"Yes," she confirmed, growing more concerned by the moment.

"Hmm," Magnus mused, his mind racing with possibilities. "Curious, very curious indeed."

"Is that a bad thing?" she asked, fearing the worst.

Magnus shook his head reassuringly. "Not necessarily. Most trained mercenaries would boast a higher level, but yours...yours is different. It could be the result of some tampering, some unknown force at work. The possibilities are endless."

The woman looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of confusion and awe. "I don't understand what you mean," she admitted, feeling as though she had stumbled into a world beyond her wildest imagination.

"Well, buckle in." He sighed, "This will be a long story."

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