Mist flooded across verdant paddocks and winding dirt roads, sweeping against the wind as if driven by something else. Pure white and haunting, it had an ethereal presence that spoke of strange happenings and fell dreams.
A phenomenon that had no business being this far inland or appearing on such a pleasant summer afternoon.
Sheep stirred in the fields, bleating in fear, while cattle caught halfway across a road milled around. They jostled the old farm hand who tried to hustle them along even as he, too, shivered from the sudden chill and the primal terror that came with it.
“Bloody cultivators!” the man spat, squinting into the mist. For long moments, he shivered, waiting for something to leap out at him; it was that kind of mist.
Eventually, when nothing untoward happened, the man whistled for his dog. He needed to get the cattle back in line, fell mist or not. He could hear them wandering off despite their instinct to stay with the herd.
A faint whine came from nearby, the mist choking the sound to almost nothing. He’d be getting no help until it cleared.
Further along the road, the deepest part of the mist swirled inward, defying the wind with every movement. Formless at first, it clumped and grew, becoming a ball, then a flat wall hovering above the earth.
The wall was not large, only a few feet wide and seven high, yet the density was far beyond any natural occurrence. The mist paused as if taking stock of its progress before swirling into motion once more.
The next stage brought more delicate changes as if carved by an unseen artisan: Artful curves around the top, intricate carving along the edges, and strange symbols across the face. Before long, a replica wrought-iron door had formed, so lifelike that you could have mistaken it for the real thing if not for the odd material.
If it had stopped there, the incident would have remained a curiosity, just another note in a bureaucrat’s records or, at most, a research project for a sect or mystery order.
Then the door cracked open, revealing a swirling white void beyond. Silent as a grave, it slid outward as a single bare human foot stepped through. The foot shuddered as it hit the damp ground, almost slipping in the fresh mud.
The foot scrabbled in the mud, struggling for traction. Then it dug in, supporting the weight of someone still beyond the door.
Freezing mist clawed at Kevin’s body, dragging him back from the last threshold. He shuddered as it leeched his remaining heat but held firm, drawing strength from the foot he’d forced through the gate.
Cold mud squished between his toes, threatening to unbalance his one hold on a new world, yet he smiled so wide it hurt. It felt incredible to be touching real ground again, so different from the plain, vinyl floors he’d grown used to.
It was also confirmation something was out there beyond the near-endless mist. He would never know how long he’d been wandering here, but it felt like an age.
All that remained was one more step, one final push through and out. His front foot shifted in the mud, searching for balance as the other strained against the spongy floor.
Kevin’s heart beat like a drum, every muscle tightening as he strained against the clawing vapor. It worked against him, holding and pulling, tendrils wrapped around him like a living creature.
Soon, his effort peaked, and Kevin screamed into the endless white, playing his last card.
“You promised!”
The words vanished as if sucked into a void, yet the tendrils loosened for a moment as if their master had heard. That was all he needed.
With his opposition lifted, Kevin’s push turned into a tumbling lunge through the doorway. Unprepared for the sudden motion, his feet slipped on the mud, sending him squelching to his knees.
The mist faded, leaving a warm light that caressed his face. A damp, earthy scent filled his nostrils, and a loud mooing echoed nearby.
Soaked, shivering, and now covered in mud, Kevin lifted his head and laughed like a madman.
Even here, back on solid ground, he felt alive and well. Breath came without pain; his body moved easily, and his mind was sharp. All as promised, though he’d struggled to believe until now.
Tears formed at the corners of his eyes, but Kevin dashed them away. With a deep breath, he stemmed the last outpouring of joy and pushed himself to his feet, reveling in the feeling of mud oozing through his fingers.
While he’d experienced a veritable miracle, he was still alone and without resources in a strange land.
It was time to take stock.
He’d arrived on a dirt road flanked by green pastures dotted with livestock. None of it would have been out of place in the countryside back home, and his heart sank at the sight.
Even the fences looked similar: metal wires strung between square wooden posts driven into the ground. Had he been mistaken? Was it all a bluff?
The clink of metal on metal came from nearby, drawing Kevin’s attention to the left. An older Caucasian man had secured a gate in the fence, cattle milling around him. Another sight that should have been common, yet the man’s clothing gave hope.
His white t-shirt was standard, but the sleeveless green vest he wore over it was covered in intricate embroidery. The pants were also odd, reaching below the knee and flaring at the edges.
It was not a style Kevin had seen before; perhaps he had traveled to a strange land.
An open-backed hospital gown was not the best attire for polite company, but he had little choice. All he could do was ignore the embarrassment as he strode over.
This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.
He’d have to remember to change first the next time someone offered him the chance to jump dimensions.
The man’s eyebrows shot to his forehead at Kevin’s approach, his tanned face twisting between fear and offense. Would he understand English? If he was in a new world, there was no telling what they spoke.
“Hello,” he addressed the man, holding his hands out and open. “Can you point me toward the next town? I’m a little lost.”
The man stared in apparent bemusement before raising a shivering hand and pointing along the road to Keven’s right. “That way, half a day on foot,” he said, his accent sounding European, though not one Kevin could place.
While the words were English to Kevin’s ears, the shape of the man’s lips didn’t match. It was like he was watching a foreign movie with a translated voice-over.
It was a discordant, bizarre sight, but it brought a smile back to Kevin’s face.
Translation magic. Nothing else made sense. Proof that it hadn’t been a dream, or at least not one that had ended yet.
“Thank you,” Kevin responded, trying to fill his voice with sincerity. “I’ll get moving then,” he said after an awkward pause. Still no response. A little worried he’d offended, Kevin turned to walk away, only to realize he’d just mooned the poor fellow.
“Fucking cultivators,” the words came as he began walking away. Low and angry, spat out in a near whisper, but beautiful despite all that.
Kevin had to suppress a second burst of laughter as he strode off, the insult still echoing in his mind. Cultivator: the word hummed with potential and the promise of eternal life.
This world was not what he’d expected, but perhaps he was in the right place.
Whistling, he walked onward, luxuriating in the sensation of mud drying under his bare feet. The wind rustled hair he’d missed for years and carried the scent of cattle, manure, and something odd he could almost imagine was Qi.
There were so many experiences to re-learn and so many more to discover. Even the long walk ahead did nothing to mar his good mood, not when every movement was so easy, so free. How could the trip be anything but enjoyable?
He made it less than fifteen minutes before the first vehicle descended.
Probationary Agent Travis Baldwin dropped his head, hands covering his ears to get a respite from the piercing shriek of the incursion alarm.
It didn’t help. Why couldn’t he ever remember to bring earplugs?
“That has to be the fourth time this week,” he shouted across at Susan, trying to make himself heard above the noise. The special agent was sitting on her side of the joint desk in serene calm, a large pair of pink earmuffs covering her ears.
He must have beaten the alarm as she glanced up and shook her head. “The fifth,” she mouthed, not bothering to raise her voice.
“Bloody hell,” he said, the words lost in the noise as he leaned back in his chair. That had to be a record; he couldn’t remember when they’d had more than three in the same week.
Then again, six months as a probationary agent didn’t make him an expert.
He just wished they could isolate the offices from that awful alarm. Forget about policy; there was no point in bothering them every time it happened. It wasn’t like they were on one of the response teams, and there would be a separate call for an actual emergency.
Sighing again, he returned to his paperwork and tried to look like he was getting work done. Susan was doing an admirable job, and he couldn’t afford to keep falling short of his mentor.
After ten minutes of staring at the same form, words blurring together, the alarm fell silent. “At last,” he said, luxuriating in the sudden quiet.
“Mustn’t have been too serious,” Susan responded, laughing as she removed her earmuffs and slid them into a draw. “That’s one of the quickest clears I’ve ever seen from a response team.”
“Maybe they’re just getting a lot of practice.” Travis stared at the ear protection as it vanished. Next time, he’d have something ready for sure.
“That they are, Agents.” The voice was loud and authoritative, confidence filling every word. It also came from right behind him.
Travis’s spine snapped straight, his heart thumping in his chest. He hadn’t heard the man arrive, not even a hint. Susan looked just as shocked, her jaw dropping open.
She hadn’t noticed either, despite already looking in that direction. Not even with her superior advancement or keen senses. That meant Golden Core, at least. Someone important.
He stood and turned with care, doing his best to remain composed and respectful. It was an arduous task even before he recognized the man behind him.
Assistant Director Warner — the most important person in the building — waited just long enough for him to perform a low bow before continuing. “We’ve confirmed that the latest incursion consists of a single, non-hostile human. That means you’re up, Agent Baldwin.”
Travis glanced left and right, trying to figure out who Warner had meant to address. It had to be a mistake, yet the man’s eyes pinned him in place with laser-like focus. Had the man just grabbed his name off a list?
“Sorry, Sir,” he said, cringing at the waiver in his voice. “I’m only a probationary officer. Were you looking for someone else? Perhaps Special Agent Sinclair?” He turned sideways, including Susan, without facing his back toward the other man.
Insulting a high-realm cultivator might no longer be the death sentence it once was, but it was never a good idea.
“Can’t,” Susan responded, her tone casual, a low bow her only concession to their superior. “You know as well as I do that I’ve got six open cases, Travis. You’ve been to all the interviews with me.”
“And only one of the bastards has had the decency to settle down,” she said, her nostrils flaring in annoyance. “Four of them are in different sects, and the last one somehow made her civilian life even more of a headache.”
If not for the man standing still as a statue beside Travis, she might have gone on for the next hour. It wouldn’t have been the first time. As it was, she settled down a moment later.
“Special Agent Sinclair is correct,” Warner spoke again, his voice tinted with the slightest trace of amusement. “The mounting rate of incursions has our other agents similarly bogged down. We need everyone to step up if we’re going to handle the current crises.”
“I’m promoting you to full agent,” the deputy direction finished, the words clear and making no sense.
Travis could only blink in response, frozen at the unexpected pronouncement. He should have had months left to prepare to ensure he’d make a good showing with his first case. He hadn’t even completed a final plan for how he’d go about…
“Unless you feel it’s beyond your abilities?”
The follow-up question struck like ice injected into his veins. Backed by a lifetime of unexpected tests, Travis’ mouth opened before his mind had finished processing the words.
“No, Sir. I’ll grab a fresh set of paperwork and get moving.” Turning on instinct, he tried to shuffle through the stacks of paper while still facing the Assistant Director.
“Excellent. A disk will be waiting on the roof; don’t keep them long.” With a single nod to Susan, the man vanished as if he’d never been, his movement as untraceable as the wind.
All the strength in Travis’s spine went with him, and he slumped against the side of his desk in relief. That had gone pretty well, right?
“Congratulations,” Susan grinned, bringing her hands together to clap. The simple movement echoed throughout the office with a resounding crack, drawing more attention than Travis would have liked.
“Thanks,” he responded, returning with haste to the hunt for paperwork as Warner’s parting line cut through his confusion. Papers fluttered out of order, but he only paid them enough attention to ensure none made it to the floor.
At last, he found a fresh I183 form, Office of Incursion Management, marked in clear letters across the top. With shaky hands, he dug a clipboard out of a drawer and grabbed a pen from its holder.
“You’ll be fine,” Susan was around their joint desk before he could process her movement. She laid a hand on his shoulder, a gesture which would have been more comforting if he hadn’t known that same hand could pulverize solid stone.
“You’ve seen me do this a dozen times, and you’ve been handling half my paperwork for months. You’ve got this. I’ll just miss the help,” she finished with a laugh and a bruising squeeze.
“You’re right,” Travis said, forcing himself to relax. “It’s just another arrogant outsider, no doubt convinced they’re the next chosen one or some other rot. Easy.” He accompanied the words with a casual grin, even as he hardened his determination.
This was his chance to get noticed. It might have come before he was ready, but that was no excuse for a poor job. He needed to keep the outsider from getting themselves killed, spreading information that would destabilize their entire society, or otherwise causing trouble.
All while grasping at the most significant career opportunity of his life.
No pressure.
