Since the end of the great war, it seemed like the rise of United States had only sped up. Every day brought something new, something different. Even the Slavic people, who were once a rare sight on this continent, had started flocking here, drawn by the promise of opportunities; or maybe just survival.
It was 5:30 in the afternoon, and the sun was slowly sinking behind the distant sea of concrete buildings. The sky glowed a soft orange, a reminder that the workday was drawing to a close, at least for most.
White house had just passed a new regulation: companies were now required to provide proper lighting for night workers. But floodlights, the recent industrial marvel; weren't exactly cheap. In fact, they were more costly than the wages of the workers themselves. So, rather than pay for the extra equipment, the bosses had made a more "cost-effective" decision. They shifted the workers' hours back, requiring them to start at 6 pm, just as the light was fading.
At the Powell Construction site, only a handful of workers remained, wrapping up the last bits of work for the day. The clang of metal and the crunch of footsteps echoed through the half-finished structure.
Ivan, the safety officer, adjusted his helmet, more out of habit than necessity. His official job was to ensure the steel bars and copper wires weren't stolen and to make sure the workers followed safety protocols. But if he was honest, it mostly involved pretending to look busy and doing the bare minimum to seem like he cared.
Beside him, Melor, a middle-aged man with a weary face, hefted a heavy bag of plaster powder from the back of a carriage. He groaned as he set it down, straightening up slowly as if the weight of the day was heavier than the plaster.
Both Ivan and Melor were of European eastern European decent. In this foreign land, that made them kindred spirits, whether they liked it or not.
Melor took a long drag from his cigarette, letting the cheap smoke fill his lungs before exhaling slowly. "I never did ask you," he said, glancing over at Ivan, "what did you do before all this? You look young, like you know a lot. Were you a student?"
Ivan shrugged, looking down at his boots. "Yeah, I went to college. But I didn't finish. Only made it three years before I ended up here. Didn't even get my degree."
"That's a shame," Melor sighed. "A college degree... would've given you a leg up on a place like this. Could've been better than bricklaying with us." He paused, squinting as if trying to place something. "Which university was it?"
" International University of Science and Technology," Ivan muttered, almost embarrassed.
"Very generic name?" Melor frowned. "Never heard of it."
Ivan chuckled awkwardly. "You wouldn't have. It's not exactly famous."
Melor seemed to relax at that. "Ah, I see. So, what brought you here instead of finishing school? Was your family short on cash, or did you run away in a fit of rebellion?"
Ivan sighed, his gaze distant. "No, nothing like that. It wasn't my choice. Truth is, I was… kidnapped. One minute, I was eating pasta and singing in the dorm with my buddies, and the next, I was here, in this strange place."
Melor blinked, momentarily stunned. "Kidnapped? Are you serious?"
Ivan just nodded, not elaborating. The truth was, he was a dimension traveler, though not the kind you read about in books. He hadn't been hit by a car or fallen off a cliff. He hadn't died or stayed up gaming all night. No, it was something much simpler. He'd touched a strange, blood-red ruby pendant his roommate had left on the dorm table, and in an instant, his life had flipped upside down.
The memory still haunted him. "Feels like a lifetime ago," he said softly, more to himself than to Melor.
For a moment, the two stood in silence, the air between them thick with unspoken thoughts. The fading light cast long shadows across the construction site, while the towering buildings in the distance loomed like a forgotten forest at dusk.
Melor broke the silence with a wry smile, taking another drag of his cigarette. "Yeah, it's like another life. Everything's changing, faster than we can keep up with. The ones who can adapt, they survive. But the ones who can't…" He trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.
Ivan sighed, half-exasperated, half-amused. "Stop with the cryptic talk, Melor. Just finish your work. I'm still hoping to snag a five-cent meal at the chop shop before it closes."
Melor's expression shifted instantly. His whole body tensed, and his eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that?" he asked sharply.
Ivan looked at him pointedly. "You've spent the last hour unloading a hundred-pound bag of plaster, and in that time, you've been smoking and chatting. You didn't even break a sweat. Anyone watching would think you were some kind of magician. You think I wouldn't notice?"
Melor's face hardened. Ivan's words hung in the air like a challenge, and it was clear this was no ordinary conversation anymore.
"You've been watching me these past few days," Ivan continued. "And when one wizard follows another, well, it's only a matter of time before something happens."
Melor was silent for a moment, his cigarette burning down to the filter. Then, in one quick motion, he crushed the cigarette underfoot and looked directly at Ivan. His smile had vanished, replaced by a cold, dangerous stare.
"Fine," Melor admitted, standing up straight. "You're right. I'm here to kill you. I was planning to snap your neck when you weren't looking, after work. But now… it seems like that plan won't work."
Ivan met Melor's gaze, his eyes steady and unflinching. "Is it really necessary?"
Melor's lips curled into a smirk, his tone sharp. "If I recruit just one more wizard, I get bumped to 4D. That's the minimum level for getting into the gang."
His voice grew more determined, a dark gleam in his eyes. "And the gang told me you're the weakest wizard around here."
As Melor spoke, his posture shifted, muscles tightening beneath his worn-out work clothes until the fabric strained against his bulging frame. It was clear, this wasn't the Melor who had been casually unloading plaster a few moments ago.
"I told you, everything is changing." His voice was low, dangerous. "I'm a stowaway in this place. Do you think I came to Phoenix Arizona just to be a construction worker for the rest of my life? No. This is my shot."
Ivan, however, remained unfazed. His expression didn't waver, as if this confrontation was as routine as checking his helmet.
"Beast type, huh?" Ivan mused, observing Melor's transformation with a detached calmness. "From your strength and how you move, I'd say you're a 'bear' type. Am I right?"
Melor bared his teeth, his aggression mounting as he felt the fight building between them. He was sure this would be over quickly.
"Just make sure you don't wreck the scaffolding," Ivan added in a flat tone. "There are still people working up there."
In the world of wizards, there were different types: Beast, Professional, and Delusion Systems. Beast types like Melor were known for their raw power and unmatched combat skills. Melor gritted his teeth, steeling himself for the attack. He had been told Ivan was a Delusional wizard, a type notoriously bad at direct combat. The fight should be easy, a quick kill to get his place in the gang. But something about Ivan's calm unsettled him.
Without another word, Melor charged. His muscles coiled like a spring, and he launched himself forward, intending to overwhelm Ivan with sheer force. He gathered power into his arms, planning to deliver a crushing blow with his signature double-fist strike. The move was quick and brutal, no one ever survived it.
But what Melor didn't know was that a voice had already started whispering in Ivan's mind.
"Use a paralytic," the voice suggested calmly.
Ivan felt the familiar sensation wash over him.
\[ Searching... \]
\[ Numbing agent located \]
\[ Available resources in space: Alchemical matrix \(\times 1\), Lead-acid battery \(\times 1\) \]
\[ Scanning environment... Mercury detected. \]
\[ Proceed? \]
Ivan barely hesitated. "Confirm."
In an instant, his hand felt lighter, and as if conjured from thin air, a rough glass bottle appeared in his grip. Inside was a pale blue liquid, faintly crackling with energy, almost as if it held lightning in liquid form.
Melor had no idea what was coming. He was already mid-charge, his bulk barreling forward like a runaway train.
With a calm flick of his wrist, Ivan hurled the bottle. It shattered against Melor's face, spraying the electric blue liquid across his skin. Melor's entire body seized up, cold shock spreading through his veins as the numbing agent took hold. He crashed to the ground, his powerful muscles rendered useless, twitching as the paralysis set in.
His mind raced in confusion and fear. How? How had this happened so fast?
Ivan stepped forward, the soft crunch of debris beneath his boots the only sound in the now-still construction site. He could feel the voice continuing its updates.
\[ Consumed: Alchemical matrix \(\times 1\), Lead-acid battery \(\times 1\) \]
\[ Environmental material acquired: Mercury \]
\[ Current space capacity: 7/9 \]
Ivan didn't care. The system had been with him since the moment he'd arrived in this strange world, granting him powers and knowledge he could scarcely comprehend. He had learned to trust it.
Kneeling beside Melor's prone form, Ivan slipped a sharp, intricately patterned bone spike from his sleeve. The spike gleamed faintly in the dim light, its surface etched with ancient runes that hinted at the dark magic within.
Melor's eyes widened in terror, his lips quivering as he tried to form words. "Magic …" he gasped, but his voice failed him. His throat constricted, the numbness spreading to every corner of his body, freezing him in place.
Ivan's face remained emotionless. "Everything has a price, Melor."
He toyed with the spike, rolling it between his fingers as he spoke. "You were ready to kill me without hesitation. That tells me one thing, you've killed before. Maybe a lot of wizards."
Melor's heart raced, the fear gnawing at his insides.
"If I let you go, maybe you'd turn over a new leaf, leave the wizarding life behind, live like a regular guy." Ivan's voice was soft, contemplative. "But I'm not willing to bet my life on that chance."
He stood over Melor, his gaze cold and detached. "Like I said before, when one wizard finds another, there's only one way it ends."
"One of them dies."
Without another word, Ivan plunged the bone spike into the base of Melor's neck. It was quick, efficient. A soft gasp escaped Melor's lips as his body went limp, the light in his eyes fading.
Ivan stood up, brushing off his sleeve, and glanced around the now quiet construction site. The world around him was changing, faster than anyone could predict. And in this world, survival meant being prepared for whatever or whoever, came next.