The cold anger burning in Yukio's eyes was so different from Fukui's beaming smile.
"You really aren't seriously taking this,"
Yukio snarled, his voice low, menacing.
"What is this, some fantasy story? You expect me to just go along and be your knight in shining armor?
For once, Fukui's grin faltered. His childish face carried a strange weight, a rare seriousness that made the air feel heavier.
"The world I'm offering isn't a game,"
He said.
"It's dangerous, yes. But it's alive with something your world never had—mana. Everything there runs on it. People are born with the ability to shape it. To cast magic."
Yukio raised a brow, arms folding.
"Magic? Right. Next you'll tell me there are dragons too."
Instead of being offended, Fukui lifted a hand and began counting off on his stubby fingers.
"There are four basic types: fire, wind, earth, and water. And then two special ones: light and darkness. Most folks are lucky if they're born with one or two. The blessed can use the rare ones."
He paused for dramatic effect before his grin returned.
"But you? You're getting the full set. All six. Consider it a fortune package."
Yukio blinked, his expression caught between disbelief and the faintest grin.
"…So basically, I'm a walking cheat code."
"Exactly!"
Fukui laughed, clapping his hands together.
"A free starter pack from the God of Fortune himself. And to top it all: you even get to name a special ability of your own, based on luck. I thought you'd like it."
The anger in Yukio's chest had not gone away, but it was starting to fray. To have such power—such control—the gamester in him could envision it. To draw an impossible hand. He let a slow smile spread across his face.
"Alright. If we're going to play this out, then give me something that's dependent on chance. Something no one can foresee or intercede with. I want a power that can shift the momentum and luck comparable to yours."
Fukui's boyish face rosy with delight.
"I knew I liked you."
In a whirl of fingers, golden, silver, green light surrounded Yukio. It flowed through him like flames and lightning at the same time, pulsating in his veins, filling his lungs with a strange, invigorating energy.
When it passed, Fukui let his hand fall.
"Done."
Then his impish face dissolved. He spoke to Michibiki.
"You're going with him. Take him in charge."
Michibiki bowed deeply.
"Yes, Lord Fukui."
A massive golden magic circle bloomed beneath their feet, its intricate lines humming like a living song.
"Take care of yourself in your new life,"
Fukui said, tossing Yukio a wink and a thumbs-up.
"And don't worry about your family. I'll bless them with fortune. That's a promise."
The last thing Yukio saw was Fukui's mischievous grin as light swallowed him whole.
---
As the radiance faltered, Yukio stumbled forward onto dirty cobblestones.
The world crashed into him all at once.
Heat. Odors. Sound.
Lost was the clean white nothingness. In its place was a living street alive with sound and motion—the clang of blacksmiths hammering steel, the crunch of grilled meat, the singsong calls of merchants shouting prices in a language his head shouldn't have understood but now somehow did.
He blinked, wide-eyed. They were in a narrow alleyway streaming into a main street. Behind them, the street was alive.
"Welcome to Gaelora,"
Michibiki spoke, her tranquil voice calming over the tumult.
"This town is called Primordia."
Merkou looked around the corner, his breath caught.
Individuals rushed past, robes they wore a mix of thickspun tunics, cloaks, and armor. A stout dwarf with his beard braided and lumpy followed, hammer as large as Yukio's chest in hand, muttering to himself as sparks from his apron, red-stained from the forges, flew through the cobblestones. An elf glided silently through the crowds with unnatural ease, ears tapering into sharp points, her pale green mantle rippling.
Even stranger—scales lizardfolk negotiating with a merchant, and a horned giant man easily lifting crates.
Yukio's lips parted in a stunned grin.
"Unbelievable… he really did it."
A child darted past him chasing after a floating ball of light, laughing. It bobbed just out of his grasp until his mother chased him away with a tongue-lashing in a language Yukio could instantly understand: Common Tongue.
All of it—the spiced bread smells, the faint metallic flavor of mana in the air, the weird words that somehow made sense in his brain—bumped him all at once.
He laughed, a hard and incredulous laugh.
"I just played myself into an RPG."
Michibiki's serenity never broke.
"Before we do anything else, we'll need to get a place to stay."
She outstretched her hand, and a whirling galaxy-like tear appeared in the air. She reached in and pulled out a pouch of leather, its bulk heavy with coins.
She poured three into his hand. They glinted in the lantern light—gold, silver, copper.
"This is Gaelora's coins. Gold has the highest value, then silver, then copper."
Yukio lifted the copper, wincing.
"So my entire fortune here is loose change. Terrific."
Michibiki chuckled softly.
"You'll adjust. And Lord Fukui already transferred the knowledge you'll need. The basics of the world—its laws, history, even its languages—should already be in your mind."
Yukio touched his temple. She was right. Half-formed knowledge stirred inside him like fragments of dreams—a thousand scraps of culture, history, even etiquette. Enough to survive.
Before he could utter a word, the crowd surged past him and nearly sent him tumbling to the ground. An apple cart vendor sidled past him, grumbling about
"newcomers filling alleys."
Yukio retreated a step.
"Guess hospitality ain't free."
Michibiki smiled solely.
"That is why you have me."
Something new flashed in Yukio's eyes—not anger, but the risk of danger. Of stakes. He stared at the coins in his hand, then at the alien street vibrating with life.
"Okay then,"
He smiled, saying so.
"New world, new rules. Let's see how far this luck of mine takes me."