Jamie gazed up at the sky, a vast darkness stretching endlessly above him. Not a single star was in sight, and the moon was obscured behind thick, rolling clouds. Despite how dark it was, he recognized the narrow confines of the alleyway in which he stood. It was the same alley he had been in before.

Before everything changed, before he was summoned to another world.

In his hand, his phone glowed softly, Jessica's number still dialed on the screen. The device's familiarity anchored him momentarily, a tenuous link to his old life.

Yet, instead of pressing the call button, he hesitated. A swirl of emotions washed over him. After a moment's deliberation, he navigated to his contacts and selected another name: Idris.

Bringing the phone to his ear, Jamie listened to the ringing tone. It connected almost immediately.

"Sir! Where are you?" Idris's voice came through, tinged with uncharacteristic anxiety. The concern in his tone was palpable, a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor.

"I don't remember exactly," Jamie replied, his voice steady but weary. He glanced around, taking in the dimly lit brick walls and scattered refuse. "It's an alley near the city center. The one where we dealt with that fool who broke the rules."

There was a brief pause on the other end. "Understood. I'm on my way," Idris affirmed, his professionalism returning.

Jamie ended the call and pocketed his phone. He walked towards the entrance of the alley, his footsteps echoing softly against the pavement. As he emerged onto the bustling avenue, the sights and sounds of the city enveloped him. The hum of traffic blended with the murmur of conversations, snippets of laughter, and the distant strains of music spilling from open doorways.

He didn't know exactly where he was, but the atmosphere was unmistakable. It was close to his university. Young people were everywhere, groups of friends meandering between late-night cafes and bars. Cars streamed by in a steady flow, headlights casting moving shadows across storefronts.

Jamie scanned the area for a place to rest. Finding no benches or suitable spots, he settled against the facade of a small café. The establishment was closed, its wrought-iron chairs stacked neatly inside, lights dimmed. He slid down to sit on the cool concrete, leaning his back against the wall. The hard surface pressed into his shoulders.

Closing his eyes, he allowed his breathing to slow, each inhale and exhale measured. The sounds of the city faded into a distant hum. Though he was back in his own body, the one from this world, his mind and spirit bore the fatigue of his recent fight.

As he sat quietly, Jamie became aware of a subtle sensation—a faint, tingling energy coursing through him. It was delicate, almost imperceptible, but undeniably present. His eyes snapped open. This was something new.

Jamie concentrated, focusing inward. There it was. A small but distinct flow of mana threading through his being, both within and without. It pulsed gently, synchronized with the beat of his heart.

"What is this?" Jamie whispered, lifting his hand to observe it under the pale glow of a nearby streetlamp. To his astonishment, he perceived a thin filament of light, a thread of mana, coiled around his wrist like an ethereal bracelet. It shimmered softly, its luminescence ebbing and flowing.

He didn't fully grasp its nature, but instinctively, he knew it was a connection. A tether to the other world. A realization settled over him: though he had returned, a part of that realm had returned with him.

"Am I on borrowed time here?" he mused aloud. The thought was disconcerting. 'If the mana exists here, what else might have crossed over?'

Driven by curiosity and a flicker of hope, Jamie closed his eyes again and reached out with his mind. "Jay? Jay!" he called silently, seeking the familiar presence of his companion.

Silence. No feline appeared, and no sardonic voice echoed in his thoughts. He opened his eyes, scanning the shadows for any sign of movement.

A hint of disappointment tugged at him, but he wasn't ready to give up. Jamie directed his thoughts inward once again, this time focusing on his Status Page.

--

| James Murtagh | Class: Bard [Rare] | Level: 3 | Experience: [670 / 9000]

--

His status page materialized before him, a spectral window hovering in the air with lines of golden text shimmering softly against the night's backdrop. He stared in astonishment, his breath catching as he absorbed the reality of what he was seeing.

"Seriously?" Jamie whispered to himself, scarcely believing his eyes.

While he stood there, captivated by the floating display, the quiet hum of an approaching engine drew his attention. A sleek black limousine glided to a halt beside him, its polished surface reflecting the flickering streetlights.

The driver's door opened smoothly, and Idris emerged. His tailored suit emphasized a physique honed by years of disciplined training, and his eyes held a mixture of relief and concern as they settled upon Jamie.

"Sir, I've been worried," Idris said, striding towards him with purposeful steps.

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Jamie brushed the dust from his clothes as he got up. He took a deep breath, the cool night air filling his lungs, and met Idris's gaze. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"It's good to be back," he replied, extending his hand.

Idris grasped it firmly, his grip conveying both respect and steadfast loyalty. "It's good to have you back, sir," he responded a subtle nod accompanying his words.

Without further ado, Jamie moved towards the limousine. The door was held open for him, and he slid into the back seat, the rich scent of fine leather enveloping him. Idris closed the door gently before returning to the driver's seat, the partition between them lowered to allow for conversation.

As the car pulled smoothly into the flow of late-night traffic, Jamie stretched his legs, the tension in his muscles easing slightly. Buildings blurred past, their illuminated windows like stars against the urban skyline. He watched them silently for a moment before breaking the silence.

"What has happened in the last few months?" Jamie inquired, leaning back against the plush seat.

"Months?" Idris echoed, a note of confusion evident. He glanced at Jamie through the rearview mirror.

"Wasn't I gone for months?" Jamie asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

"No, sir. It's been two weeks," Idris clarified. "You disappeared without a trace, but it was only a fortnight."

Jamie considered this information, his mind racing. 'Time must flow differently there,' he mused. The months he'd spent in the other world had compressed into mere weeks.

He shifted his gaze back to Idris. "What's happened during this time?" he asked again, his voice measured.

Idris took a moment before responding, choosing his words carefully. "Two weeks ago, you vanished. At the same time, millions of other people around the world disappeared as well. It's been a global phenomenon, unprecedented and unexplained. Authorities are going crazy."

Jamie felt a chill run down his spine. "Millions?" he repeated softly.

"Yes, sir. No one knows the cause. However, just a few hours ago, people began reappearing. Reports are flooding in from all over the globe."

Reaching into his pocket, Jamie retrieved his phone. The screen lit up, illuminating his features in the dim light. Notifications cascaded down, the world was abuzz with news. He scrolled through countless threads, videos, and articles, each detailing accounts of the vanished returning.

One headline caught his eye: "I Went to Another World. I Reached Level Five. [Live Stream]"

"Level five?" Jamie murmured, intrigue flickering in his eyes. He tapped the link, and the video began to buffer before playing. The audio filled the quiet space, resonating softly throughout the car.

The screen displayed a modest podcast setup. A simple wooden table with two microphones perched atop it. Seated on one side was a polished interviewer, his demeanor professional yet inquisitive. Opposite him sat a young man, perhaps in his early twenties. He wore a casual hoodie and jeans, his disheveled hair and earnest expression giving him an air of undergrad.

"I'm telling you, each of us ended up in a different place. We were inhabiting the bodies of people from that other planet," the university student insisted, his eyes alight with fervor. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the scratched surface of the wooden table that separated him from the interviewer.

"Alright, let's suppose I believe you," the interviewer replied, his tone skeptical yet placating. He adjusted his glasses, the studio lights reflecting off the lenses.

"Go to hell," the student snapped, irritation flaring in his voice. I don't need you to believe me. There are millions of others; ask any one of them." His frustration was palpable, and tension coiling in his posture.

"Fine, then. What was this place like?" the interviewer pressed, attempting to steer the conversation back on track.

"It was like a fantasy world," the student explained, his gaze distant as if recalling vivid memories. "They still had medieval-level technology, but there was magic."

"Magic? Like pulling rabbits out of hats?" the interviewer quipped, a hint of derision coloring his words.

"Magic like controlling the elements," the student corrected sharply, his expression hardening.

"Is he serious?" Idris wondered aloud, his curiosity piqued.

The car glided smoothly through the city's nocturnal streets, the engine's hum a soft backdrop to their dialogue. Idris glanced in the rearview mirror, catching Jamie's eye.

"Very," Jamie affirmed, his voice measured.

"So, the same happened to you?" Idris inquired. Unlike the interviewer, his tone lacked skepticism and instead carried a note of genuine interest.

"In essence, yes," Jamie admitted. "But not exactly the same. It seems each person ended up in a different part of that world, with varying powers and abilities."

As Jamie elaborated, their attention returned to the broadcast. The interviewer leaned forward slightly, one eyebrow arched. "Our viewers are asking: do you take any prescription medications?" he inquired, a subtle mockery underlying his question.

The student drew a deep breath, his brow furrowing as he attempted to maintain his composure. "You have no idea what I've been through, and now I have to sit here and listen to this?" he muttered through clenched teeth.

"That… that's not smart," Jamie remarked, his gaze fixed on the screen.

"What do you mean?" Idris asked, briefly glancing away from the road.

"If he's truly level five, this guy is dangerous," Jamie explained, concern etching into his features.

Onscreen, the interviewer held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Alright, alright. No offense meant," he said, though the smirk tugging at his lips suggested otherwise. "But aside from your word, what proof do we have that any of this happened and isn't just the delusion of some drug-addled mind?"

"You want proof?" the student hissed, his eyes narrowing to slits.

"Obviously," the interviewer taunted, leaning back in his chair with a dismissive shrug.

The atmosphere in the studio shifted perceptibly—a charged tension thickening the air. The student raised his hand, palm outward, directing it toward the interviewer. A subtle ripple seemed to distort the space before him as motes of azure light coalesced above his skin. The interviewer's expression shifted rapidly from skepticism to astonishment and then, as understanding dawned, to abject fear.

"What are you—" the interviewer stammered, but his words were cut off.

A swirling orb of fiery energy materialized, gathering intensity at an alarming rate. The student's face was a mask of cold determination. "You asked for proof," he said softly.

"Wait—" the interviewer began, panic rising in his voice.

[Fireball]

With that utterance, the spell was unleashed. The flaming sphere shot forward, engulfing the table and consuming everything in its path. The studio erupted into chaos as the fireball exploded, a torrent of heat and force that shattered equipment and ignited furnishings. Flames licked up the walls, and thick black smoke billowed toward the ceiling.

Screams filled the air, shrieks of terror and pain from crew members and onlookers caught in the sudden inferno. Cameras toppled, their lenses cracking. The feed became unstable and finally went offline.

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