The Great City of Netherward, a beacon of steel, stone, and sorcery, stood resolute upon its newfound land—a misplaced titan in a realm that had yet to learn the weight of its presence. Towers of cold iron and enchanted glass loomed over streets pulsing with the lifeblood of civilization, its denizens bustling about, blissfully ignorant of the vast unknown stretching beyond the city's formidable walls.
And what does one do when cast into the abyss of uncertainty? When the darkness whispers of dangers unseen and horrors unspoken? Why, one does what any self-respecting empire would do: one reaches for the stars—or, in this case, launches a giant mechanical eye into the sky to glare accusingly at the universe.
It was in the grand war room of the Ministry of Imperial Defense and Security that I, the ever-suffering, ever-watchful Benetton, found myself perched atop a polished oak table, licking the remnants of a rather exquisite salmon off my paw, while Grand Duke Mhelfrancovince, a man of considerable authority and disturbingly few naps, sat brooding over an array of maps, diagrams, and schematics.
"The Emperor has ordered immediate reconnaissance," he declared, his voice a low growl that carried the weight of command. "We must know what lies beyond. Our scouts can only cover so much ground—hence, the satellites."
"Satellites?" Nikkimae arched a delicate brow, her expression one of mild amusement as she traced a finger over a document detailing the city's energy reserves. "You do realize we've barely finished stabilizing our power grid after the whole accidental teleportation fiasco, yes? What exactly do you intend to fuel this grand endeavor with? The tears of bureaucrats?"
Mhelfrancovince scoffed. "No, those are for special occasions. We'll use the Imperial Arcane Reactor—one of the auxiliary cores should be sufficient to power the launch."
I flicked my tail, my golden eyes narrowing. "Ah, yes, because nothing screams stability like strapping an arcane reactor to a metal coffin and flinging it into the sky. Have we at least considered the possibility that whatever gods govern this world may not take kindly to us launching a celestial spyglass into their domain? I hear some deities are quite possessive about their airspace."
Mhelfrancovince waved a hand dismissively. "The risk is worth it. We need eyes above. The scouts have confirmed that we are, in fact, stranded on a peninsula, but that's hardly the extent of what we need to know."
"And," Nikkimae added, folding her arms, "we're already sending reconnaissance parties and spy planes. You're certain a satellite is necessary?"
The Grand Duke sighed, rubbing his temple. "A spy plane can be shot down, a scout can be captured. But a satellite? It watches from the heavens, untouchable. And besides—" he leaned forward, a glint of mischief in his eye, "—it sends a message. We may have been displaced, but we are not lost. The Empire adapts."
I stretched languidly, my tail curling around my paws. "Very dramatic. Almost inspiring. But tell me, how do we explain to the local populace when they look up and see a bright, blinking dot in their sky, moving in strange patterns? Do we tell them it's an omen? A celestial god? Or do we simply claim it's the Moon's drunk cousin visiting for a few orbits?"
Mhelfrancovince smirked. "We tell them it's ours. And if they have a problem with that, well… that's a discussion for later."
Nikkimae sighed. "Fine. I assume you already have the launch site prepared?"
"Of course," Mhelfrancovince replied. "The eastern district. We'll use the old magitek launch pad. It's been modified for high-altitude propulsion."
I flicked an ear. "And if it explodes?"
"Then," Mhelfrancovince said with an eerie calm, "we'll simply launch another."
I stared at him for a long moment before turning to Nikkimae. "You see what I have to deal with?"
She merely chuckled, shaking her head as the plans were finalized. The Netherward Empire would have its eyes in the heavens, whether the gods approved or not.
And thus, we reached for the stars. Or, at the very least, threw a rather expensive piece of metal into the sky and hoped for the best.
With the ingenuity of the Netherward Imperial Development Sector (MIDS) and the unrelenting push of the Imperial Aeronautics and Space Administration, the Empire wasted no time in asserting its presence, even beyond the bounds of the sky itself. Two sentinels, forged from steel and infused with arcane might, were hurled into the great void above—satellites, floating watchmen with mechanical eyes sharper than any falcon, seeing all, recording all, and, in my humble opinion, judging us all with quiet, cosmic disappointment. Their mission was simple yet ambitious: to map the unknown, to pry into the secrets of this foreign land, and to ensure that nothing lurked beyond the horizon that could catch us unawares.
From their celestial perches, they peered down upon the land like uncaring gods, tracking the rippling waves, the shifting sands, the jagged peaks, and the tiny, insignificant dots of civilization scattered across the vast expanse. It was a spectacular display of human ingenuity—launching great eyes into the sky to spy on their new home, as if that would somehow make it feel less alien.
And so, I found myself in a war room, where men of vision and ambition planned the Empire's next move, while I, the most intelligent creature in the room, sat atop the high-backed chair of my rightful place, surveying them with a bemused expression. The holographic display before us flickered with the first images relayed by the satellites—mountains, forests, rivers, and the unmistakable glint of civilization far beyond the city's walls.
The Great City, the heart of the Empire's might, had been placed upon a peninsula, its northern, eastern, and southern borders embraced by a vast, shimmering sea. To the west, however, the land stretched beyond the horizon—untamed, unexplored, and brimming with possibility. It was there, in the unknown wilds of the west, that the scouts unearthed their first great revelation.
Mhelfrancovince leaned forward, arms crossed, his gaze locked onto the display. "The terrain is consistent with what our reconnaissance teams reported. Arunafeltz lies to the west, and these settlements... they match locations from Ragnarok Online."
Mhelpatrikus let out a low whistle. "You're telling me we got thrown into a damn video game world? Just my luck. I was hoping for a place with at least some basic infrastructure, maybe a proper sewer system."
I flicked my tail, unimpressed. "Yes, because clearly the most pressing concern is the state of the plumbing. Not the fact that we may have just declared war on the metaphysical boundaries of reality itself by throwing satellites into the heavens like we own the place."
Mhelfrancovince smirked. "Knowledge is power, Benetton."
"Knowledge," I said, stretching lazily, "is also a double-edged sword. Just because you can see something doesn't mean you understand it. And just because you understand something doesn't mean it won't try to kill you anyway."
Mhelpatrikus snorted. "That's rich, coming from a cat whose biggest struggle is choosing between napping on the windowsill or knocking over expensive artifacts."
I yawned, exposing my fangs. "And yet, somehow, I remain the wisest creature in this room." I flicked a paw toward the display, watching as the satellite feed zoomed in on a vast mountain range. "So tell me, oh grand visionaries, what happens when we inevitably see something we weren't meant to see? Something that notices us back?"
Mhelfrancovince gave a small chuckle, unshaken. "Then we deal with it accordingly."
I narrowed my golden eyes, unimpressed. "Ah, yes. Because dealing with ancient and unknowable entities has historically worked out so well for those who came before us. I do hope you have a contingency plan that doesn't involve simply dying creatively when the eldritch horrors come knocking."
Mhelpatrikus grinned. "Of course. It's called 'have the cat handle it.'"
I sighed and curled my tail around myself, resigning to my fate. "When the cosmic horrors arrive, I want it written in the history books that I was the one who warned you. And that I, unlike the rest of you, will be hiding somewhere very, very safe."
Mhelfrancovince smirked, turning back to the display. "Noted. Now, let's see what else our eyes in the sky have found."
And with that, the Empire continued its relentless march forward, blind to the fact that sometimes, the greatest mistake one can make is assuming they are the only ones watching.
Beneath the endless sky, reconnaissance planes soared like eagles, their engines humming a song of discovery as they ventured beyond the walls, cutting through the clouds with speed and precision. The MIDS, ever the architects of intelligence, dispatched elite reconnaissance teams, their footsteps silent against the foreign soil, their senses sharpened as they took in the lay of the land.
What they discovered was both thrilling and foreboding.
Arunafeltz.
The name alone sent a shiver down the spine of Grand Duke Mhelfrancovince. As the reports were laid before him, his hands trembled, and for the first time in years, a gasp escaped his lips. He leaned forward, scanning the parchment, his mind racing with memories long buried.
"That is a place in an online game that I used to play... called Ragnarok Online." His words hung in the air, heavy with disbelief.
The reconnaissance reports aligned too well with his recollections. Cities, villages, and landmarks—each one a perfect reflection of the virtual world he had once traversed. Arunafeltz, Rachel, Sessrumnir, the frigid depths of the Ice Cave, the jagged cliffs of Odin's Canyon, the rolling fields of the Audumbla Grasslands, and the Plain of Ida, where the wind howled like a mournful ghost. Further still, there were reports of Portus Luna, a coastal city bathed in silver light, and the ominous Shores of Tears, where waves crashed against the rocks like whispers of the dead.
The deeper they ventured, the stranger it became.
The scouts spoke of Veins, a city built upon the very edge of a volcanic abyss, and beyond it, Thor Volcano, its molten heart pulsing with untamed fury. They told of Niflheim, a realm where the veil between life and death grew thin, where spirits wandered amidst the ruins of the Skellington graveyards and the Valley of Gjoll stretched like a gateway to the underworld. And then there was Helheim Horde Plains, a vast expanse of cursed land, and the dreaded Soulstone Reserve, where ancient remnants of the departed lay undisturbed, whispering secrets to those who dared to listen.
But the final revelation sent a chill through the room.
Nameless Island. A place spoken of in hushed tones, where shadows moved with a will of their own, where the very air was thick with a lingering, eldritch presence. If the reports were true, then they had not merely been transported to another world—they had been cast into a realm shaped by the echoes of something long forgotten, something that should not be.
The chamber fell into a heavy silence. The implications were staggering. How was it possible? Was this a mere illusion, a twisted mockery of familiarity? Or had they truly been thrust into a world built upon the foundation of myth and game?
The Grand Duke exhaled sharply, setting the reports aside. "We need more information. We need to know what lies ahead... and who else walks this world."
With that, the order was given. The Empire would not remain in the dark. They would unravel the secrets of this world, piece by piece, city by city, until they understood the full scope of their fate.
And should any foe seek to stand against them?
Well, then this world would learn what it meant to be judged by the might of the Netherward Empire.
Ah, the universe, ever the mischievous trickster, had once again decided to mock us with its absurd sense of humor. As if being thrown into a world that bore an uncanny resemblance to Ragnarok Online wasn't enough, our scouts—poor, unsuspecting souls burdened with the unenviable task of discovering what fresh madness lay beyond our borders—had returned with yet another revelation.
North of Arunafeltz, nestled within rugged highlands and shadowy forests, they had stumbled upon a realm known as Kaedwen. Yes, you heard me. Kaedwen. The name alone was enough to send a visible shudder through Mhelfrancovince, who, by this point, was either on the verge of a nervous breakdown or experiencing a religious epiphany. Perhaps both.
"It's in The Witcher," he whispered, voice hoarse, as if speaking the words too loudly might summon a brooding, white-haired monster slayer from the abyss. His wide-eyed expression darted between the names listed on the report—Ard Carraigh, Ban Ard, Ban Gleán, Fort Leyda, Daevon, Kaer Morhen, Pontar—each one etching another crack into the fragile veneer of logic we had all been clinging to.
Mhelpatrikus peered over his shoulder, frowning. "Are you telling me that we—a perfectly respectable empire of war, industry, and sorcery—have been unceremoniously dumped into a literary and gaming abomination, where the lines between fiction and reality are thinner than a noble's excuse for treason?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying," Mhelfrancovince muttered, rubbing his temples. "I swear, if we find Skyrim next, I'm taking a long, long nap and leaving you all to figure this out."
"Don't be ridiculous," I said, lazily grooming a paw atop my luxurious perch. "That's exactly what's going to happen. And then we'll stumble upon Middle-Earth, a cursed castle straight out of Dark Souls, and an entire nation that suspiciously resembles One Piece. At which point, I shall demand my rightful position as King of the Fandom Wastes and rule over this absurd patchwork world with an iron paw."
Mhelpatrikus scoffed. "You would thrive in a kingdom full of nerds, wouldn't you?"
"Correction," I said, flicking my tail. "I am already thriving in a kingdom full of nerds. Just look at yourselves. We are, at this very moment, having a serious discussion about the possibility that we've been transported into the fever dream of an overenthusiastic fan-fiction writer with far too much time on their hands."
Mhelfrancovince wasn't listening. He was still staring at the report, muttering under his breath. "It's not just The Witcher. It's everything. Every book, game, or manga we've ever read—bits and pieces of it seem to be here. Real. This is either divine intervention or a cosmic joke."
"A joke, obviously," I said. "And an incredibly elaborate one at that. Personally, I'd like to meet the deranged deity responsible and give them a firm, well-placed scratch to the face."
Mhelpatrikus sighed, leaning back. "So what's the plan? Do we embrace the madness? Conquer the world? Declare ourselves the rightful rulers of Fandomtopia?"
"First," Mhelfrancovince said, finally composing himself, "we find out how and why we're here. If there's a pattern to all this, we need to uncover it before we wake up one morning to find ourselves in bloody Minecraft."
I shuddered. "No, thank you. If I wanted to spend my days punching trees and fighting exploding shrubbery, I'd go live in the woods like a common peasant."
Mhelfrancovince sighed and closed the report. "Then we start with reconnaissance. More scouts, more maps, more knowledge. If this world truly is a melting pot of fiction made real… then we need to find out what else is lurking in the shadows."
"And pray," I added with a dramatic sigh, "that we don't run into anything that knows it's not supposed to exist."
The war room fell silent at that thought. The mere possibility that something out there, some entity, might be aware of the paradox we now found ourselves trapped in was not a pleasant one. Because if we had the sense to question our reality… then what was stopping them?