War was an unfortunate plague that seemed to haunt any creature intelligent enough to have desires beyond basic needs for themselves and immediate family. Needs become wants. Wants became greed. Greed drove people to violence when their wants were unfulfilled. And yet the only unfulfilled want Uran currently had was to sleep, undisturbed, for at least eight hours. The barracks weren’t home, but they were still better than the battlefield. The stench of blood, sweat, and unspeakables was replaced by the softness of decently clean linen covering the pillow Uran’s face greeted with an unceremonious flop. He hadn’t even bothered to remove his uniform. A lower priority compared to the much needed respite his overstressed brain released him to in moments. Having been a soldier for years now, sleep came easy when it was wanted, but that didn’t stop strain from building up. A soft pillow was a coveted blessing, and he fully expected to see the prized possession when he next opened his eyes.

And yet the wants of others once again robbed him of his own, simple, tiny desire.

A blanket of unearthly light prodded his eyes open much too early. Where once was a comfortable pillow nestled inside a distinct boundary was now an open expanse of near nothingness. There was no ceiling. No sky. No dusty ground. No quietly bustling allies. The one landscape in Aria that he could think of which met that description was the depths of the Zoulhe volcano in the Aldravia reserve, and that was neither in the same continent as him nor a place where he’d be able to breathe in.

He’s still breathing, as far as he’s aware of.

Looking around, it was only a hollow sphere of Energy so condensed it allowed for them to stand instead of sink right through. ‘Them’ being Uran, and sixteen other complete strangers in various positions of standing, gazing in confusion at their absence of distinct surroundings. They weren’t soldiers from either side of the war Uran fought in. Neither foe, nor ally. Just unknowns.

Pushing himself to his feet, after a brief flash of concern over the anomaly of such a massive collection of Energy, Uran scanned the faces of the others that were there. A wide variety of ages, yet all seemed healthy. Just confused. All except one.

A short distance from the small group was a woman dressed in draping shades of blue patterned in stars and oceans. Half of her face was hidden by the fabrics, and the visible left eye seemed to have a somewhat vacant stare. But she still held a warm, if slightly worn smile as she spoke to them. She may have said hello, but Uran hadn’t been awake enough to register it, her words sounding like something scripted she had said before.

“...You are standing on what remains of the Core of Lakaur. A world that unfortunately is far too damaged to be restored, as are the pieces of other worlds that have been connected to this one. The new Lakaur is a patchwork of remains that have yet to die. But to die without purpose is a sad fate that I aim to bring sweetness to. You have been brought here because your worlds, too, are in decline. Perhaps you have already noticed: Prolonged famine. Drought. Sickness. War. Inexplicable fluctuations in natural disasters. Instability in what was once considered expected, and the failure to explain the cause.” 

“Your presence here allows for a link to be created between your world and Lakaur. And through that link the remainder of the Energy here may be passed on to renew the life of a world not yet lost. Since a whole world’s Energy would be excessive to pass on to a single other world, and there are many worlds in need, many of you have been collected. And many more will still be collected until the well runs dry. It is either then, or when your own world is healed, that you will be returned. In this way, you shall be your home's Heralds of Rebirth.”

“I understand that your situation is not convenient, and many of you would rather return home. There is a way to decrease the duration of your stay. You are not the first to come to Lakaur. There are many establishments that have been constructed, and many errands to be run. Support them, and as your connection with Lakaur grows, Lakaur’s connection with your world will also grow. And a stronger connection will allow for more Energy to be transferred in less time, therefore shortening your stay. It is up to you whether your time here will be unpleasant and empty, or full and rewarding.”

“You will now be transported to one of the pieces of other worlds. You may travel between them readily, but return to the Core will be restricted to prevent unfair tampering. And as the Core’s guardian, I will not tolerate any ill-mannered behavior.”

“May your stay here be a welcomed one.”

_______________

Everything is a blur.

The days pass, one after the other, and after the second week Uran isn’t bothering to count them anymore. Secure basic supplies and shelter for the night, quest, talk to people and gather intel, quest, check the area and current town’s layout, quest, secure temporary housing (who’s kidding, it might not be temporary at this rate), quest, quest quest quest quest quest.

Anything that keeps him from thinking too deep is fine. Most of the time his mind is detached from anything other than easing his own settling in this unknown environment and gathering or processing further information about what they’ve all been told.

They’re here to save their worlds.

If Uran’s to be honest with himself, what he’s doing is not entirely healthy, but the hyperfocus is the one thing keeping him sane. He has no idea what his family is doing, how they are doing. How his entire world is doing. He can’t even send a message and tell them what happened. There’s a war at home, and while peace talks were in the works they were something he should have been present for as a representative. At best, he must have been declared MIA. Instead, here he is. Wherever “here” means. Calling it “Lakaur” means nothing to him, other than not home.

He still considers himself lucky.

There are children here, he noticed. There are also people who never held a weapon of any kind, and people without a drop of mana in them. Non-combatants who, just like him, have been brought to this place, unknowing and unwillingly. Uran, at least, is a soldier. He has been trained in basic survival tactics, in utilitarian and combat magic, and on overall how to turn a miserable situation into a somewhat bearable one. But deep within, he’s still miserable. What to say of civilians?

Nobody likes being kidnapped. At least, he can’t think of anyone who does.

The lady who brought them here sure made it sound nice. Live here comfortably, be a bridge between this place and his own. Save everyone. But the truth is they were randomly gathered somewhere unknown and far away, and are stuck here, uncommunicable. And not even given any supplies or money or anything for the journey other than a quick monologued intro before they were — once again — scattered into different sectors of this literal new world ahead of them.

So he works. 

He gathers people and exchanges info, and helps the inhabitants. He finds lost items and runaway pets, repairs buildings, hunts down monsters, explores the ruins of Lakaur’s worst patchworked sectors. He researches scripted magic and spatial gates to the point of almost insanity, until he can recite the books front to back by heart and write an entire thesis on his own. And only when his mind is too tired to think, he strolls around town or goes out with friends or bakes cookies, and tells himself that it’s enough. That they’re all doing what they can. That it’ll all end soon and they’ll be home, and Lakaur will disappear like a trick of the light.

Most of the time, he manages to believe it.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Co-written by AealZX and NaBa

Art by AealZX