Regis Vortigern's senses came shuddering back to life with the merest quiver, as a ripple travels across a quiet, immense lake. The bottomless black of his surroundings began to recede as if the shadows themselves were being pushed back by something invisible. A cold wind touched his flesh, and for a moment he could not tell whether the sensation was real, whether his body existed in this other place.
They snapped open, not to the empty blackness he had anticipated, but to an infinite ocean of stars scattered across an infinite sky. The heavens lay out above him, vaster and more marvelous than any he had looked upon in the world of Yggdrasil. But it was not the stars themselves which caught his attention, nor the immense height of the cosmos—no, it was the earth below him.
He stood in a vast open area. The earth beneath his feet was warm, almost molten, but not scalding. The atmosphere was thick with unnatural silence that clung to it like heavy fog, each breath tasting strange, unnatural. And looming on the horizon, suspended above it, was a huge structure—his floating citadel.
Regis moved forward cautiously. The sound of his boots crunching against the earth was almost deafening in the stillness. He could sense the weight of himself, the weight of heavy armor once a symbol of his prowess in Yggdrasil's world. But it felt strangely. lighter. As if something had changed.
His brain spun with confusion. Had he been conveyed? He felt the beat of his pulse, calm and certain. The weight of his mind, the sharpness of his thoughts, the fire of his ambitions—each of these was sound. But the world in front of him, the very air—it was alien.
Was this the New World?
The words echoed in his mind as his memories slowly fell into line. He remembered the closing of Yggdrasil, the abrupt disappearance of his guild, the Eclipse Imperium, his friends, and the devastation of everything they had ever known. And then, there had simply been… nothing. Only the endless space.
But now… now, he was here.
Regis drew a quick breath, his exhalation misting the air. His own body, as solid as it had ever been, was filled with an energy that throbbed within him. His power was almost increased, the strength of it flowing through his body like electricity through a live wire. His fingers curled even as he brushed them on the hilt of the great sword at his hip—the blade constructed of fragments from defeated World Enemies, now glinting in the dim light of the strange sky.
A relic of my empire.
The words echoed in his mind as his gaze swept the horizon once more. This world—whatever this world was—carried some heft to it. The power that pulsed from the ground beneath his feet, the unnatural stillness that filled the air, the heaviness of existence itself—it felt different. It felt like a world where he could shape all to his whim, a world where power alone mattered.
But what then of his empire? His Ashen Dominion? His flying fortress, source of his power, stayed in the world of Yggdrasil. His NPC generals, his loyal soldiers—where were they? Were they lost too?
A momentary flutter of fear crawled its way into his heart, but was quickly stamped out by his iron will. He would not fail. He could not fail.
"I am Regis Vortigern," he repeated to himself, as if merely repeating his name would be enough to tie him to this new reality. "I am the Eternal Sovereign, ruler of the Ashen Dominion. This world will bend to my will."
His voice was deep and authoritative, ringing with the empty air around him. His own voice, reverberating off the quiet, seemed the world catching its breath and listening.
Regis advanced once more, his eyes narrowing as he stared out to the horizon. His citadel in the distance, but it appeared. far away. Too far away. He could not be weak now, not after he had just arrived. He was no wanderer. He was the Sovereign.
There was a breeze stirring the hair at the back of his neck. His senses narrowed. He caught the change in the world, the faint sorcery that churning in its depths. Something was at play here. This place was electric with the power of magic, and Regis knew it was going to be a while figuring out how any of it did what it seemed to do.
Time.
His gaze flew to the skies once more. The stars that twinkled above seemed distant, uncaring. Time was something he could control, something he had mastered in the world of Yggdrasil before. But here? He no longer controlled time itself.
He would have to rebuild. He would have to adapt. But for the moment, he was alone, in the heart of a foreign world, with nothing to direct him but the power of his own will.
He stood there, weighing his next move, when he saw the slightest motion—shade on the horizon.
A presence.
Regis narrowed his gaze. The person came towards him, slow and deliberate. Scout? Foe? He did not know, but he sure was not dropping his defenses. Magic churned around him, and he pulled on his Sovereign's Decree, trying to see just how far the boundaries of magic could be extended.
"Let the laws of reality bend to my will," he snarled under his breath, and for an instant, the air around him shivered, distorted with his power.
He was ready.
Regis drew his sword as the figure came closer. His eyes never left the approaching figure, but already in his mind, he was thinking three steps ahead. Whatever this individual was, they were not going to interfere with him.
This world, this strange, foreign place—it would be his.