Phillip Hart is a 16-year-old boy living in London, England, in an ordinary middle-class family filled with laughter and warmth. His father, Thomas Hart, is a civil engineer, tall and sturdy, with a stern face. He is often busy with work, sometimes excessively passionate—there are times he skips meals for an entire day to focus on completing his projects. Despite his hectic schedule, Mr. Hart always sets aside time on weekend evenings to talk with the family.
His mother, Mary Hart, is a literature teacher at a local high school. With her gentle appearance and warm smile, she takes a keen interest in Phillip's studies, encouraging him to read books and discuss albums by the band Fairport Convention. His older sister, Alina Hart, is a third-year medical student with a determined personality and a striking appearance, though her occasional strictness with Phillip sometimes annoys him. They live in a small apartment in the suburbs, a place brimming with familial love, though work and studies occasionally keep them from spending much time together.
In school, Phillip is a fairly exceptional student. While he is not the best in his class, he is always diligent and creative. He excels in science and math, though he lacks interest in literature and history, much to his mother's dismay as she hopes he will develop a well-rounded education. Phillip has a close group of friends, mostly classmates. They often meet after school to study together, play sports, or discuss movies and books they enjoy. Among them, Phillip is closest to Tom, a witty and intelligent classmate, and Sarah, a kind-hearted art student who encourages him when he feels unsure of himself.
Phillip's life seems like it will continue peacefully until something strange happens. In the final days of May, while he is taking his end-of-term math test, an unexplainable event pulls him out of his familiar life and sends him on an entirely new journey filled with challenges and dangers beyond imagination. This marks a turning point that shifts him onto a different path.
Phillip Hart never imagines his life could be torn apart in an instant. One second, he is sitting at his desk, pencil in hand, writing answers for the math test that has haunted him for weeks. The next second, everything turns black.
It is not like falling asleep, nor is it the brief dizziness from standing too long. No—this feels as though the world has vanished, as if someone has snatched away his consciousness and snuffed it out like a candle flame. His final thought before everything fades is an anxious question about whether he will pass the test.
When he opens his eyes again, Phillip is no longer in his classroom, not sitting at his desk. He is no longer in familiar London. Instead, he finds himself… somewhere entirely different.
"Where on earth is this?"
His body feels stiff, his muscles aching as if he has been lying in the same position for hours. The air smells of damp earth and leaves, and the faint rustling of trees suggests a breeze moving through a forest. But it is not just the forest that unsettles him. What terrifies him is that his hands are tightly bound behind his back, restricting his movements.
His first reaction is panic. His mind races, trying to process this unimaginable situation.
"Where am I? What has happened to me?"
He tries flexing his wrists to free himself, but the rope is too tight. A wave of fear washes over him as he struggles, twisting against the binding. The sound of footsteps rustling through leaves interrupts his frantic thoughts, and he turns his head. His eyes widen in alarm.
A group of men—at least five—stands around him, all clad in dark black armor. Some pieces gleam faintly under the dappled light filtering through the trees. The strangers wear dark cloaks that obscure most of their bodies. They are speaking to one another, but Phillip cannot make out their words. Their voices are low and raspy, with an unfamiliar cadence, as though they are not from the world he knows.
"Danish? German? No, it doesn't sound like either."
Phillip glances down, and his breath catches in his throat. Drawn meticulously into the ground beneath him is a large, intricate circle. Its edges are smooth, almost glowing, etched with symbols he cannot recognize—possibly ancient runes. His gaze shifts back to the men, and a chilling realization runs down his spine.
"I'm not in London anymore."
His chest tightens with fear, his breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. This is not a dream or some bizarre nightmare. The cold bite of the rope, the dampness of the earth beneath him, the vivid clarity of everything around him—it is all too real.
"Where am I?"
He tries again to twist and cut through the ropes, bending his fingers to search for something sharp. As he is on the verge of giving up, his fingers touch something small, cold, and familiar. His pocketknife. He always carries it—a small folding blade his father gave him for his twelfth birthday.
"Yes!"
With trembling hands, he carefully maneuvers the knife from his pocket. Though small, the blade is sharp enough to cut through the rope. It takes a few minutes of delicate slicing, but when the final strand snaps, Phillip wastes no time. He quickly frees his hands and rises to his feet.
His heart pounds as he scans his surroundings. The forest seems endless, the towering trees blocking most of the light above. The men are still talking, only a few steps away, their voices fading as Phillip inches further from them.
He moves cautiously, trying to avoid making noise. Each crack of a twig underfoot sends a spike of anxiety through him, but he forces himself to remain calm. The last thing he wants is to be captured again. The voices behind him grow fainter with each step.
Phillip keeps moving until he is sure he is far enough to avoid detection. Then, he leans against a tree to catch his breath and steady his nerves.
"What do I do now?"
He takes a deep breath, his heart tightening as the reality of the situation becomes increasingly clear. Slowly, the truth begins to dawn on him.
He is no longer in London. He is no longer in a place he knows. This is not a dream or some bizarre hallucination. He has been transported to an entirely different place.
But where is this place? And how?
Phillip sits down on the ground, his mind spinning. [This is crazy. Crazy. Crazy. It can't be. There has to be some explanation.]
Yet no matter how hard he tries to reason through the situation, a strange thought begins to take root in his mind. Perhaps he isn't just lost... Perhaps he isn't even in the same world anymore.
The thought chills him to his core, refusing to let go. He isn't ready to believe it, but the more he tries to make sense of his predicament, the more plausible it seems.
[Where am I?]
Hours have passed now, though it feels like days. Phillip continues wandering through the forest, unsure of where he is going or what he hopes to find. He stumbles through thick bushes, trying to avoid making noise. His body aches, his stomach growls in protest. He hasn't eaten anything since this morning, and hunger is making him weaker.
Every so often, he hears rustling behind him—the sound of something moving through the forest. But when he turns, there's nothing there. It feels as though the entire forest is watching him, waiting. The sense of being followed grows stronger by the minute.
Eventually, he steps into a small clearing. The open space gives him a brief glimmer of hope. Maybe he can find a way out of the forest. Maybe there is someone here who can help him.
But just as he is about to step into the clearing, he stops.
A figure stands on the other side of the clearing—tall, cloaked, and unmistakably human, though the features of their face are obscured in the shadows. The figure doesn't move or make a sound, as though it has been waiting for him, watching him. Phillip's heart pounds in his chest.
"You're lost, aren't you?" the figure speaks, their voice deep and cold. "You don't belong here."
Phillip's eyes widen, his throat tightens. He doesn't know how to respond, so he just nods. The figure tilts their head, as if assessing him. Then they speak again, this time with a hint of amusement in their voice.
"Perhaps you're more important than you think."
A crooked smile spreads across the figure's face, and at that moment, Phillip realizes the most important thing of all. He isn't just lost. He is in an entirely new place, somewhere he has never even heard of before.
"How do you speak English? Are you… also English like me?" Phillip asks, wide-eyed and confused.
"I speak English, yes, but calling me English wouldn't be accurate," the man replies, his voice lowering. "My grandfather was of German-Irish descent, and my father married my mother, a native of this world, resulting in my birth. So technically, I am of mixed heritage—part Earthling and part from Terre."
The man pauses before continuing, his tone rising. "My grandfather was Osbert Edison, my father Alfie Edison, and I am Noah. I am the third-generation leader of Edison Industry—a familia—no, a group of former slaves resisting the Mikhland Empire."
As he finishes, the figure steps into the light, revealing himself. He wears a sleek black suit and a cyberpunk-style metallic mask with a futuristic and intricate design. The mask gleams with polished metal, featuring coiled tubes and tiny embedded electronics. The eye section has round black lenses, resembling industrial goggles. Around the mask, metallic conduits and cables intertwine, giving the impression of a fusion between human and machine. Sharp edges and angular patterns enhance its mysterious, powerful, and futuristic aura. Most strikingly, his eyes glow yellow, something Phillip has only seen in sci-fi movies.
The strange man continues, "Let me make this clear. You… were summoned to Terre by rogue summoners. They do this to sell people like you into slavery for money. Count yourself lucky—if you had been summoned by a noble's summoner, there would be no way out."
"I am Noah Edison, third-generation leader of Edison Industry, a resistance group of former slaves fighting this empire. Come, young man, follow me, and I'll ensure you don't suffer the fate of a Mikhland Empire slave…" His voice brims with confidence.
"Can you help me get back to Earth?" Phillip asks.
"That, I cannot," the strange man replies.
Phillip nods and suddenly bolts, running as fast as he can.
"Fool! Fifty years. Fifty years since the first Earthling was summoned, and not one has succeeded in returning to Earth. Once you're summoned, that's your fate. It's simple. It's straightforward. The Mikhland Empire merely ensures they never research that kind of magic. You'll give up eventually. And if you think the Mikhland Empire is just some ordinary medieval kingdom, time will prove you wrong…"
"And when you've lost all hope, I'll still be here to offer my hand…" Noah mutters, turning and walking away.
Elsewhere, Phillip continues sprinting through the forest, his mind still rejecting the truth that he… is in another world.