Another world I

Malik's mind drifted between dreams and consciousness, the line between the two blurring as he struggled to make sense of the heavy fog clouding his thoughts. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open to a soft, unfamiliar light seeping through a narrow window across the room. Everything felt strange—the bed beneath him, the soft cotton sheets that smelled faintly of herbs and wood. His limbs ached, as if they had grown overnight, and his muscles were stiff.

His gaze shifted to his hands—hands that didn't feel entirely his. They were slightly longer, leaner, with calluses along the palms, the kind that came from years of physical labor or training. Confusion swirled in his mind as he ran one hand across his chest. Faint but visible scars lined his skin, like stories of battles and hardships he had no memory of. A mirror across the room caught his eye, and for the first time, he saw his reflection. He froze.

The face staring back was different from the one he had seen growing up. "How is this possible?" His features were sharper, more angular. His eyes, still the same deep black he had always known, now gleamed with a foreign intensity. His hair, which had always been curly, was now straighter, neater. His skin was lighter, paler, as if he had lived in this body for years.

"What... what is this?" Malik whispered, his voice slightly deeper, tinged with an accent he didn't recognize.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, unsteady at first but quickly adapting to the new proportions of his body. The room itself was simple—clean white walls, a wooden dresser, and a modern desk with a strange device resting on top. An old-fashioned rotary phone sat on one side of the room. It was a bizarre setting, a mixture of items from different eras—modern technology contrasted with furniture that looked centuries old. The world looked like the industrial revolution had never fully taken place.

Malik moved to the window and peered outside, his breath catching in his throat. The world stretched out in a surreal blend of eras—stone-paved streets filled with people in robes, tunics, and armor. Some buildings had glowing neon signs, and strange mechanical carriages rattled past. It was like a scene out of an old futuristic movie where time periods collided.

"Where... am I?" Malik murmured, a growing unease settling in his chest.

Suddenly, a realization clicked into place. 'This is the world of the novel: *The Tale of the Hero and the Doomed World. *' The world he had once read about was now his reality. The strange mix of modern and ancient was the very setting of the story, centuries after the Demon Emperor's invasion and defeat. This was the central continent. The way people dressed, the faintly familiar streets, and—his eyes landed on a massive dome-like structure in the distance—the Academy's defense system. He could also make out towering magic spires, each representing a different branch of magic dedicated to the study of mana.

Still reeling from shock, Malik forced himself to focus. His mind raced. 'This isn't my body. This belongs to someone else.' As soon as he thought that a sudden flood of information overwhelmed him. The name 'Darius' surfaced. This body belonged to a boy named Darius, an orphan.

Darius had grown up in an orphanage, living a quiet, hard-working life. He didn't have many friends but always dreamed of becoming a hunter—a term for those who could wield mana and fight the monsters left behind by the malevolent forces on the Dark Continent, as well as the Abyss cult that sided with demons. This world had many professions, nearly all connected to harnessing mana. The hunter profession was a profession every child once dreamed of, but not all could become one. It took incredible hard work and the ability to control mana, especially without the resources of the ruling elite.

Suddenly, a strange sensation rippled through Malik's entire body, like a cold shiver creeping up his spine. His heartbeat quickened, and his vision blurred for a moment before sharpening with unnatural clarity. His eyes, now glowing with an eerie light, seemed to pierce through reality itself. It was as if time had stopped for a brief second, the air around him thick with tension. Then, the world around him shifted, and he found himself no longer in the quiet room, but standing in the middle of a bustling street, the noise of distant chatter and the clatter of wooden carts filling his ears.

Darius was walking through the crowded marketplace, surrounded by vendors shouting over one another, selling their goods. The air was thick with the scents of spices, freshly baked bread, and the metallic tang of blacksmith forges nearby. His body moved automatically, weaving through the crowd as he clutched a small pouch close to his chest. Inside was a meager sum, the fruits of Darius's backbreaking labor as a woodcutter.

But as Malik's vision focused, the bustling crowd faded, and a sharp awareness gripped him. A group of shadowy figures cornered him, their gazes locked onto Darius like predators sizing up their prey. Thugs—four of them—each clad in rough, tattered clothing, with hardened faces and eyes that gleamed with greed. Their movements were subtle, calculated, as they stalked closer, their fingers twitching toward hidden knives and crude weapons.

Malik could feel Darius's growing anxiety—the weight of his desperation to protect the money that meant everything to him. This wasn't just some petty change; it was Darius's one chance to escape a life of poverty, to gain admission to the prestigious Academy where hunters trained. Without this money, Darius's dreams of becoming a hunter would be shattered. I opened my eyes, and I was back in my room. 'What was that?, it felt so real.'

Growing up Darius realized he had no special talent or abilities, just the fruits of his hard work. Without support, getting into the Academy and fulfilling his was nearly impossible. He had pinned everything on this one chance. Malik saw it all—the imminent danger, the robbery about to take place. The vision alerted malik to the imminent sense of danger on Darius leaving Malik breathless. "This body... Darius... he was about to lose everything." Malik's pulse quickened. He wasn't just inhabiting Darius's body; he now had to live his life, facing his struggles and hardships.

The reality of his situation began to settle like a heavy weight in Malik's chest, pressing down on him with each passing second. A whirlwind of confusion, fear, and disbelief swirled in his mind, making it hard to think clearly. His breath hitched as the full magnitude of what had happened began to unfold. Malik's thoughts drifted, almost instinctively, back to the life he had just been torn from, to the familiar comforts of home, to the last time he had seen his mother's face.

The memory of her felt like a distant echo, a warm, aching sensation that tugged at his heart. He remembered that last morning clearly. His mother had been standing at the kitchen door, her face soft yet lined with concern, as she watched him prepare to leave for school. It wasn't an extraordinary moment—just another in the routine of their lives—but now, it was all he had to hold onto. Her gentle smile, the way her eyes lingered on him a moment longer than usual, as if sensing something he couldn't. They hadn't exchanged many words that day, just the usual farewell, a brief hug before he dashed out the door, his mind already on the day ahead. Yet, thinking back now, it felt like a lifetime ago, a world away. The ache of not knowing if he would ever see her again gnawed at him, a sharp, bitter pain that cut deeper than anything else.

'Why me?' The question echoed in his mind, hollow and unanswered. What had he done to deserve this? One moment he had been walking home after school, his mind filled with mundane thoughts—his upcoming exams, the nagging worry of a future he hadn't yet mapped out. Now, all of that felt insignificant, washed away by the sheer strangeness of his current reality. How could things change so drastically in the blink of an eye?

Malik clenched his fists, the unfamiliar weight of Darius's body only adding to the disorientation. He was no longer the boy who had left school that day. Now, he was inhabiting someone else's life, someone else's struggles. He felt like an intruder in a life that didn't belong to him, forced to walk in the footsteps of a stranger. The overwhelming realization that he had to survive here, to adapt, hit him like a tidal wave. This wasn't a dream he could wake up from. This world—the sights, the sounds, the history—was now his reality.

Taking a deep breath, Malik steadied himself. If Darius had fought so hard to get here, Malik wouldn't let his efforts go in vain. He also realized the only way to learn more about this world and survive what was to come was by getting into the Academy, just as Darius had dreamed. But first, he needed to get out of his current predicament. This was because Something nagged at him, a feeling that the vision he had seen was real.

As he replayed the vision in his mind, Malik realized the thugs were planning to ambush him on his way to the Academy, using the shortest route people normally use. He needed to take a different path. Just in case they had men stationed outside, Malik decided to leave quietly through the window. Carefully, he raised the window and climbed onto the roof of the inn. Surveying the area, his suspicion was confirmed. The thugs had indeed placed extra men at the back door, waiting for him.

Malik felt a pang of sympathy for Darius. The boy was a country bumpkin who didn't know better than to stay at a cheap inn on the outskirts of town—an area where Academy dropouts preyed on newcomers.

Escaping from the inn, Malik took in the sight of this strange world—a blend of pre-industrial grit and modernity. Carriages drawn by long-legged, scaly creatures rolled by, seeming ordinary to the passersby. The people wore a confusing mix of old-fashioned coats, tunics, and modern items like jackets and sneakers that reminded Malik of home.

He moved toward a street vendor, trying to make sense of it all. The vendor sold goods Malik couldn't recognize—wooden trinkets, bottles of glowing liquids, and tools with a blend of metal and crystal that hummed faintly. The sight fascinated and unsettled him.

"What should I do now?" Malik muttered to himself.

The continent of Duterra was divided into five major regions, with the central area housing the Academy and the United Military Force Headquarters, where the human forces trained and stood united against invaders. To the north, after the great war, those who mastered holy energy and the 12 Round Knights established temples, synagogues, and monasteries dedicated to training future Heroes. A powerful empire had since emerged, ruled by those devoted to the holy light. To the south, the League of Arcana settled on the outskirts of the Dark Continent, guiding humans once corrupted by malevolent forces and helping them harness their arcane abilities for good. This vast land was overrun with savage beasts once corrupted by malevolence.

In time, many kingdoms rose and fell across Duterra. Eventually, some nations evolved into democracies as a way to ensure prosperity for their respective nations. The sage of time seeking to prevent further wars and conflict for the demons to take advantage of created the world council composed of the strongest mana users, hunters, sorcerers and representatives from each continent and nation, chaired by the sage himself.

By his earlier observation, malik now realized he was in the central continent near the outskirt of academic city. He now needed a sure-fire way to enter the academy, as he was sure the current Darius had a very low chance of passing the entrance exam.