The cold fury burning in Yukio’s eyes was a sharp contrast to Fukui’s carefree grin.

  “You really aren’t taking this seriously,”

  Yukio muttered, his voice low, dangerous.

  “What is this, some kind of fantasy story? You expect me to just nod along and play the role of your chosen hero?”

  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 two or three. 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 courtesy of the God of Fortune himself. And here’s the kicker: you even get to name a special ability of your own, tied to luck. I figured you’d like that.”

  The anger in Yukio’s chest hadn’t vanished, but it was cracking. The idea of wielding that kind of power—the gambler in him recognized it. It was like being dealt an impossible hand. A slow grin tugged at his lips.

  “Fine. If we’re doing this, then give me something tied to luck. Something no one can predict or stop. I want an ability that can change the game.”

  Fukui’s childish face lit up with delight.

  “I knew I liked you.”

  With a snap of his fingers, golden, silver, and emerald light engulfed Yukio. It poured through him like fire and lightning all at once, thrumming in his veins, filling his lungs with a strange, invigorating energy.

  When it faded, Fukui lowered his hand.

  “Done.”

  Then his playful expression softened. He turned to Michibiki.

  “You’re going with him. Guide him.”

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  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.

  ---

  When the brilliance faded, Yukio staggered forward onto rough cobblestone.

  The world hit him all at once.

  Heat. Smells. Noise.

  Gone was the sterile white void. In its place was a street alive with sound and motion—the clang of blacksmiths striking iron, the crackle of roasting meat, the sing-song calls of merchants shouting prices in a language his brain shouldn’t have understood but now somehow did.

  He blinked, nearly overwhelmed. They stood in a narrow alleyway spilling out into a main road. Beyond, the street was crowded with life.

  “Welcome to Gaelora,”

  Michibiki said, her serene voice calm against the chaos.

  “This town is called Primordia.”

  Yukio peeked around the corner, his breath catching.

  Humans bustled by, their clothes a mix of roughspun tunics, cloaks, and armor. A dwarf with a braided beard carried a hammer as tall as Yukio’s chest, grumbling to himself as sparks from his forge-stained apron scattered on the cobblestones. An elf glided through the crowd with inhuman grace, ears tapering into sharp points, her pale green cloak fluttering.

  Even stranger—scaly lizardfolk bartering with a merchant, and a towering, horned beastman hauling crates with ease.

  Yukio’s lips parted in a stunned grin.

  “Unbelievable… he actually kept his word.”

  A child darted past him chasing a floating orb of light, laughing. It hovered just beyond his reach until his mother scolded him in a language Yukio understood instinctively: Common Tongue.

  Everything—the smells of spiced bread, the faint metallic tang of mana in the air, the unfamiliar words that somehow clicked in his mind—slammed into him all at once.

  He laughed, sharp and incredulous.

  “I just walked into an RPG.”

  Michibiki’s composure remained steady.

  “Before we do anything else, we’ll need a place to stay.”

  She held out her hand, and a swirling galaxy-like rift bloomed in the air. Reaching inside, she pulled free a leather pouch, its weight heavy with coins.

  She poured three coins into his palm. They gleamed under the lantern light—gold, silver, copper.

  “This is Gaelora’s currency. Gold is most valuable, silver is second, copper least.”

  Yukio held up the copper, squinting.

  “So my entire fortune here is pocket change. Fantastic.”

  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 respond, the crowd shifted and nearly bowled him over. A merchant with a cart of apples swerved past, grumbling about

  “newcomers blocking alleys.”

  Yukio stumbled back.

  “Guess hospitality isn’t free.”

  Michibiki only smiled.

  “That is why you have me.”

  Yukio’s eyes lit with something new—not anger, but the thrill of risk. Of stakes. He looked at the coins in his hand, then at the unfamiliar street buzzing with life.

  “Alright then,”

  He said with a grin.

  “New world, new rules. Let’s see how far this luck of mine takes me.”

  ---

  Back in the endless white void, Fukui floated lazily in mid air, hands tucked behind his head as he stared up into nothingness.

  "…I hope he'll be able to restore balance in Gaelora,"

  He murmured, his grin softening into something far older, far heavier than the boyish mask he wore.

  "and shape destiny the way it was meant to be."

  A ripple of brilliance split open in front of him.

  And from the light came an angel clad in flowing gold; her wings neatly folded behind her. She alighted and knelt.

  "Lord Fukui,"

  She said, voice like ringing glass.

  "It's time. The Divine Gathering await your presence."

  Fukui let out an exaggerated, long groan while rolling over onto his stomach in the air.

  "Ughhh… really? Already? They're definitely going to yell at me for giving him the Threads."

  He kicked his feet lightly.

  "What a pain…"

  The angel raised her head a little.

  "You knew the consequences, my lord."

  "Yeah, yeah,"

  Fukui waved his hand dismissively.

  "But it'll be fun watching everyone squirm when they realize what I just dropped into their perfect little prophecy chart."

  He floated upright, dusted off his robes though there was no dust, and flashed the angel a lopsided grin.

  "Alright. Let's go ruin some divine tempers."

  The angel got up and stood beside him.

  Light flared around them, golden, blinding, swallowing their forms completely.

  And then, with a soft chime like a struck bell…

  They were gone.