Icarius gently opened his eyes to find himself in a charming wooden house, thrown off from his own world. He got up and began to explore his surroundings when he saw an odd and disturbing menu that made him hesitate in fear.
The menu's text glowed eerily: "Icarius Fokuna, you have been chosen as the seventh and final sage of this world."
Icarius blinked, his mind racing. "What…? A sage? What kind of twisted dream is this?"
The menu continued, its words sending a chill down his spine. "You are the first sage to arrive from another universe; all the others died barely halfway through their missions."
His heart skipped a beat. "They… died? But why? How…?" He took a step back, shaking his head in disbelief. "No, this can't be real. I'm just imagining things."
The menu offered no comfort. "It is simple to understand why they failed: they lacked the necessary skills. Whether it was magic, strength, or intelligence, each sage possessed a strong talent in one area but lacked in another. But you, the seventh sage, will possess all these powers."
Icarius let out a nervous laugh. "All these powers? Me? I don't even know how to use magic, let alone handle a sword."
He clenched his fists, trying to steady himself. "This is insane. I don't want to die like the others. There must be a way out of this…"
The menu's text remained cold and unyielding. "Although you do not have a task, you must acknowledge that you have reached an otherworldly location that is not equipped with the same resources and technology as your own universe."
Icarius bit his lip, his mind spinning with possibilities. "An otherworldly location? No resources, no technology… It's like I've been thrown into some kind of medieval fantasy."
The menu continued relentlessly. "Horses and swords are the ultimate weapons in this medieval society, where the noble system rules. Every nation is either a single unit or is run by a monarchy."
Icarius stared at the menu, his thoughts a whirlwind. "A medieval world… with no way back? What am I supposed to do here? Just survive? Become a sage? I didn't ask for this!"
He looked around the room, feeling the weight of his new reality closing in. "No choice, huh? If I'm going to survive, I need to figure out what this world is about… and fast."
The poor boy got completely lost. As he stepped outside the house, he found himself in a peaceful village, but the menu was back, indicating that it would take him ten minutes to build the only portal he could make from his own world to this one. He was also informed that his native Earth would not allow him to use his powers.
Icarius's calm personality helped him to gather himself despite his chaotic mental state. He then built his gateway and set out back home.
When Icarius returned home just before Boris got back from work, he was still in disbelief over what had happened. As he tossed his coat onto the couch, he muttered, "Was that real? Or am I just losing it?" His mind raced as he climbed into bed, replaying every strange detail of the village, the portal, and the ominous menu. Despite his confusion, exhaustion finally took over, and he fell into a restless sleep.
For the next two days, everything seemed normal, as if the bizarre experience had been nothing more than a vivid dream. Icarius went through the motions—school, chores, and studies—but the memory of that other world lingered in the back of his mind. It wasn't long before curiosity got the better of him.
Late one night, Icarius recreated the portal. "Let's see if this was all just in my head," he whispered, stepping into the swirling energy. In an instant, he was transported back to the little village, the same one perched on the hilltop. His house, simple and sturdy, stood just as he'd left it.
Icarius took a deep breath, the cool night air filling his lungs as he looked down at the village below. "So, it wasn't a dream," he murmured, his heart pounding with both excitement and unease.
He then made his way into the village. The cobblestone streets were quiet, with only a few people milling about. He approached a group of locals who were chatting near a well, trying to appear casual. "Excuse me," he began, "could you tell me the name of this village?"
The villagers exchanged puzzled glances. One of them, an older man with a thick beard, looked Icarius up and down. "You're not a traveler, are you? How do you not know where you are?"
Icarius hesitated, then offered a small smile. "I'm not a traveler, no. I just moved into that house on the hill."
The man's expression softened, and he nodded in understanding. "Ah, that explains it. Welcome to Tyouga, young man. This is the southern part of the Kingdom of Eriolia."
Icarius repeated the names silently to himself, committing them to memory. "Tyouga... Eriolia," he said aloud, feeling the weight of the unfamiliar words.
The villagers seemed to warm up to him after that. A young woman with bright eyes stepped forward. "How old are you? You seem very young.", He responded, "I'm fourteen." "You're 14, right? That means you'll need to get ready for the magic exam in seven months. It's required for all 15-year-olds in the kingdom."
Icarius blinked in surprise. "Magic exam? What do you mean?"
The older man nodded. "Yes, every fifteen person in Eriolia has to undergo three years of magic education. It's essential, given the threats from other kingdoms. The exam determines which magic school you'll attend, and the best students are sent to the finest institutions."
For a moment, excitement bubbled up inside Icarius. "Magic... I could actually learn magic?" But then his thoughts turned dark as he realized something. "But what about home? Am I still there too, or am I really here now?"
Later, when Icarius returned home, his thoughts were still spinning. He tried to distract himself by doing the dishes, but worry gnawed at him. Boris was late—really late. By 12:45 PM, he still hadn't come home.
Finally, the door creaked open, and Boris stumbled in, his face pale and his arm wrapped in a makeshift bandage. Icarius's heart dropped. "Boris! What happened? Did you hurt yourself at work?" He rushed over, reaching out to help.
Boris avoided his gaze; his voice was strained. "It's nothing, Icarius. It was just a small accident. You should get some rest."
Icarius frowned, not buying it for a second. "But your arm... it looks bad. Are you sure it's just an accident?"
Boris's eyes flickered with something Icarius couldn't quite read—fear? Guilt? He quickly changed the subject. "Don't worry about it. Just go to bed, alright?"
Confused and more than a little suspicious, Icarius reluctantly headed to his room. But sleep wouldn't come. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying the day's events in his mind. "What is Boris hiding? And why now, of all times?" The questions gnawed at him, making it impossible for him to rest.
Around 4 AM, Icarius finally gave up on sleep. He padded to the kitchen, making himself a small sandwich to calm his nerves. But just as he took his first bite, a distant explosion shattered the quiet of the early morning.
The sound was so loud and unexpected that it made his heart leap into his throat. He dropped his sandwich, his eyes wide with fear. "What the hell was that?" he whispered, realizing with a sinking feeling that something terrible was happening. The peaceful world he knew was suddenly under threat, and he had no idea what to do next.