“Mesmerizing,” King Sora III said, his voice slicing through the hall like a drawn blade.

  “To think I would behold the fabled beings of legend.”

  The four humans suddenly felt small, unmistakably, crushingly small.

  Not because they were powerless, but because they were finally seeing what true danger looked like in this world.

  Their throats tightened. Their legs trembled.

  “I’ll ask once,” King Sora continued, gaze narrowing. “What is it you have come to our world for?”

  Gerald clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to speak, but the king’s oppressive presence made resistance pointless. Despite having already answered interrogators earlier, Sora wanted the truth from their own mouths.

  “W–we came here in search of materials, artifacts, items, anything that could boost our power against unfriendly parahumans,” Gerald said.

  Parahumans were an umbrella classification for countless non-human races with anatomies unlike humans but sharing superficial resemblance. vampires, werewolves, goblins, elves, dwarves, merfolk, and many more.

  “From the legends passed down, I know humans speak many languages. Your kind must be fragmented and diverse, as we once were. But this is the first time I’m hearing of other races existing in your world… enlighten me.”

  “On Earth, there are a lot of races, but the human race is the most dominant. We control six of the seven continents,” Gerald explained.

  King Sora’s expression shifted, curiosity replacing detached superiority.

  “I hadn’t thought of your kind as warmongers. Nearly conquering your entire world… impressive.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Not exactly, sire,” Gerald corrected. “Most parahumans choose to live in seclusion, far from humans. We simply… took advantage of that distance.”

  “Who cares what cowards think?” Sora scoffed. “Their fear made you the dominant species. That’s all that matters.”

  ‘Now it makes sense,’ Sora thought, smirking. ‘there would be insurgencies from the suppressed races… no wonder they came seeking more power.’

  “Our worlds are connected in more ways than one,” Sora mused aloud. “Elves, dwarves, merfolk, goblins exist here and in your world. I'm curious what else there is”

  “Erm, sire,” Gad interrupted, “your kind are legends to us back home.”

  Sora arched a brow. “Is that so?”

  “Yes, my king. Stickmen appear everywhere in our media, plays, games, stories. They’re portrayed as warriors of unmatched strength, unbroken will, and a fierce devotion to justice.”

  “Hm. Strange.” Sora rubbed his chin.

  Gad swallowed. Had he been caught flattering the king? But he hadn’t lied, nearly everyone on Earth knew what a stickman was. He held his breath.

  “It has always been a one-way journey from Earth to Heaters,” Sora said slowly. “It seems someone made the return trip… and revealed our existence.”

  He leaned back, expression sharpening.

  “If that’s true, then my idea becomes viable. With our new teleportation device and your group acting as a beacon, we may finally bridge our worlds.”

  .....

  Dormitory of Special Students, Cadet Academy

  Night draped the academy in silver-blue darkness. The moon hung high, bright and watchful. Raven and Wolfton dragged their feet across the quiet lobby, exhausted from a full day of brutal training.

  “See you tomorrow,” Raven said, stopping at his door.

  “Yeah… see you,” Wolfton replied, continuing down the hall. His steps were sluggish, his body begging for sleep.

  Then he noticed something.

  A door was slightly opened. It was James’s room.

  He glanced left, then right. The corridor was empty, a mischievous grin crept onto his face.

  He leaned toward the gap and froze.

  At the far corner of the room… a red hologram flickered, it was human-shaped, but not human like those he encountered at Silverware. The hologram has Fangs, slightly pointed ears. Spiky hair. Corporate suit. Vertical pupils gleaming like a predator’s.

  The hologram looked at him and smirked.

  Wolfton stumbled back, heart pounding violently.

  'What was that? A past reincarnation of James? Or something else entirely?'

  A cold presence appeared beside him.

  Instinct kicked in. Wolfton jumped back, a figure identical to the hologram, but unmistakably real. Red shimmering eyes. Elongated nails. A feral, oppressive aura pressed down like a predator pinning prey.

  It moved in a blur.

  Flames and lightning bursting from Wolfton's hands.

  Too late.

  Three razor-thin wounds opened across his neck, blood spilling fast.

  He collapsed to his knees, clutching his throat, eyes wide with terror.

  How…? When…?

  It crouched, lifted him by the neck, and spoke with an icy calm:

  “I compel you, Wolfton McLaren.You will forget everything that happened in the last five minutes.

  You woke up on the floor, exhausted from training.That is your truth.”

  Wolfton’s consciousness dimmed… then slipped away.

  The figure laid him gently on the ground and applied a small amount of ointment to the wounds. His expression remained cold, unreadable.

  The moonlight caught his features, his spiky brown hair, sharp jawline, eyes empty of emotion.

  He looked at Wolfton one last time…

  …then quietly closed the door.