Chương 2: A Fated Career Change

10 Months Prior to Arrival Emma Booker There was once a time when I liked fantasy. A time when things were simpler, and the world just seemed like one big adventure waiting to be undertaken. I'd grown up on newsreels of the first interstellar drives to break the Warp V limit and films that documented the first landings on habitable worlds not of our own design.

I'd spent hours upon hours on the soft, carpeted floors of my living room, reading and fantasizing about hidden worlds just beyond the snowy forests that flanked our small two-story home. Not a weekend was spent without me and my parents regaling each other with tales of heroes and kingdoms in far off lands. Not a season was spent without a new hyperfixation, a new campaign to be played between schoolwork and chores. I was living a fantasy, until one chilly autumn morning when it all came crashing down.

One phone call was all it took; a single conversation ripped a line between what I'd call my idyllic youth and the wake up call that was my teens. In the weeks that followed, I watched as the world around me was torn apart. Relatives and adults I barely knew began barging in and picking apart the warmth and comfort that had been my home. Family photos stored in boxes, shelves emptied and dismantled, the attic where mom and I would go on adventures to kingdoms in faraway lands, cleared out without hesitation.

The spaces and places that I had once known slowly transformed into a hollow shell of themselves as the days and weeks went by. Until they finally took me as well, away from the only place I knew, and then only life I'd known. I never saw my home again. I never even set foot in my hometown after I was relocated to my distant aunt's apartment in the city.

Sometimes I even wondered if my memories of that small town life were all part of the fantastical stories I'd grown up with, because imagining a world so perfect, so untouched by everything, was almost too fantastical in and of itself. Plaster and wallpapered walls replaced the warm oaks and pines I once took for granted.

A skyline soaring hundreds upon hundreds of stories overhead likewise became the norm, as was the finely manicured park that was a twenty minute subway ride away from the apartment I now called home. No longer could I just exit the kitchen to find an expansive open yard surrounded by a dense patch of conifers, and no longer could I spend hours upon hours staring out the little nook in the front porch's windowsill, gazing as the seasons shifted from one to the other.

The city was a whole different beast, and it was one that I'd grown to love, in a strange sort of way. People here wouldn't bother you, even if you were in the middle of a crowd of thousands or an apartment complex filled with thousands more. The faces all blended together, everyone was too busy forging their own paths in life, so much so that I found it difficult to form any attachments.

It's been an entire decade since I left my childhood behind, and I can proudly say that I've come to call the concrete jungle my new home. My case workers told me that many people in my situation would prefer to retreat further into fantasy and fiction, but I did the exact opposite. The illusion of fiction was just too much to bear after having the rug torn from under me. So I focused on what mattered instead: real life. I was running on auto-pilot, as some of my friends would say.

I got good enough grades at school, volunteered in extracurriculars as decorative pieces for my college application, and did what was expected of me. I needed to move on from what I lost. I wanted to leave that past behind in any way I could. I found structure and direction in the JROTC and from what few conversations my aunt and I had, it was clear she agreed with me – not surprising given how she was a veteran of the Jovian Uprisings.

Yet I wouldn't have expected that my journey into the military would lead me to a fate that further entangled me with a past I so desperately wished to move beyond. Indeed, I wasn't expecting what was supposed to be the start to my college life to be a backtrack into fantasy. The Institute for Anomalous Studies, Earth. 10 Months Prior to Arrival. Director Laura Weir Emma was the perfect candidate. A nineteen year old college freshman with an impeccable academic record, alongside commendations on her JROTC reports.

This alone wouldn't have made her stand out, if it wasn't for the fact that she had little in the way of familial or social attachments. This latter factor was especially vital, given the sensitive nature of this operation. An operation that would see the greatest risk ever undertaken by a single human being, second only to the perilous flights of humanity's first FTL-capable vessels.

An operation that would indeed see her flung into a great, perilous unknown, disconnected and completely cut off from the rest of civilization, just like those brave pioneers centuries ago. Whilst the first human flights into the great unknown were preceded and accompanied by much fanfare, this great leap however, would not. For it presented a risk far greater than any FTL experiment ever could, carrying with it the weight of an existential threat we've been tasked with studying and neutralizing.

For centuries now, we'd been observing, tracking, analyzing, and studying what is undeniable evidence of a world parallel to our own.

A world that lurks just underneath the surface, that served as a source of myths and legends for our ancestors, and that continues to serve as a limitless pool of inspiration to those gifted enough to peer across the veil, inadvertently acting as a source of inspiration for countless works of fantasy and fiction Indeed, this world would've been left at that, fiction, if it wasn't for us.

Shunned and practically excommunicated by the scientific community, our outlandish claims were pushed aside as the march of progress continued ever onwards. Even so, as evidence began to stack, and as proof continued to mount, we eventually garnered the attention of the United Nations Science Advisory, who eventually saw fit to incorporate us into what is now the IAS.

What we discovered was irrefutable evidence of what could only be described as a world of magic and sorcery, a fantasy world by every metric, and one that had the potential to upend our own. It was because of this existential threat that every resource was eventually poured into peering deeper into this world and its non-analogous scientific principles. Yet the more we tried peering in, the less information we got back.

It was a battle of diminishing returns that lasted for centuries before we finally made a breakthrough. Our equivalent of discovering the Rosetta Stone. We discovered a means of communicating with the powers on the other side of the fence, and indeed, we later discovered this was intentional. The journey we'd been on for the past few centuries, the discovery of this puzzle, as they called it, was all a test. It was a test to determine the "magical potential" for those "gifted" from other worlds.

Indeed, it was a test that was considered commonplace and had been in place for what was described to us as"eons" now. We were just late to the party. Mumbles were heard on the other side discussing how we technically weren't ever expected to pass this test, given how magically deficient our species naturally were. It was later revealed to us that every other civilization in our own galaxy had long since passed, and that we were effectively the last to follow suit.

As a result, we would be the last to enter this realm of magic and sorcery. This perhaps explained why it was that we had detected no other technologically advanced civilizations, even as we developed FTL and roamed the galaxy for intelligent life. Theories abound on how this divergent pathway could have stagnated technological development, but that was a story for another day.

Our correspondences led us to the understanding that upon completion of this test, a single candidate be sent through the threshold for further evaluation before their host civilization was allowed to fully peer into this great unknown. It called for a candidate of 19 years of age, of any rank and station, with what they described to us as "a heart of gold and a willingness to accept what is beyond the known, and willing to sacrifice everything should it come to it".

Yet as we sent our first candidate through the threshold, it was clear that not only were we 'magically deficient', but that magic was actively rejecting us. Despite being in full PPE that should have protected against every hazard known to science, our first candidate was returned to us in a near unrecognizable state. An autopsy revealed the signs of a breakdown of cellular matrices at a microscopic level, and what would only be described as near-liquefaction of our first human candidate.

But after some time was allowed for grieving, alongside whatever cover stories were needed to keep this under wraps, we knew we had to try again. It was decided then, that we would spend however much more time was necessary in order to study, probe, and poke at the dangers that lie beyond this threshold. In order to best counter it using every tool at our disposal. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Decades, and after what we hoped weren't lethal doses of 'mana' radiation later, we finally pulled it off. The ultimate expression of human defiance against an environment that would see us dead without an iota of empathy or compassion. The culmination of centuries of work, of sacrifice and hardship: the Mark I Exoreality and Atypical Radiation Resistant Suit (E-ARRS), or what most in the team now colloquially referred to as the enchanted power armor.

Based on the framework of modern power armor expressly designed for combat in the vacuum of space, the suit was nothing short of a technological marvel. Layers upon layers of exotic materials protected the wearer from a total of 29 distinct types of magical radiation. A hermetically sealed oversuit and helmet prevented any exposure to the air, and kept any foreign contaminants (be it biological or chemical) from coming into contact with the wearer.

Pieces of composite armor were attached almost identically to the original design, with all of this weight carefully distributed and compensated by an exoskeleton sandwiched between the undersuit and oversuit, hence the term power armor. Gauntlet-mounted laser and kinetic personal defense weapons were attached to both arms, despite the other side calling for the candidate to be sent unarmed. Despite all this effort, a candidate was still needed to cross the threshold. And that's where Emma comes in.

The Institute for Anomalous Studies, Earth. 10 Minutes Prior to Arrival. Emma Booker To say that the situation presented to me all those months ago was nothing short of unreal would be an understatement. Indeed, for a while I had assumed me being taken here was part of some elaborate psyops recruitment drive targeted at new unsuspecting members of the ROTC. It took hours before I was finally convinced that this entire situation was what the Director claimed it to be.

I should've guessed as much though, because I doubt grabbing a college freshman straight out of a parking lot and into the backseat of a blacked-out SUV was anything but standard protocol. The offer presented before me was something that no other human in history had ever been given. The opportunity to travel not just beyond the speed of light, or beyond the galactic quadrant, but to a whole other dimension.

It was a world of (as the Director had put it herself) swords and sorcery, of indescribable history and culture, a world that I fundamentally had no interest in. Yet still, somehow, drew me in despite my desire to escape its allure. Perhaps this was the real reason why they chose me. Perhaps this was why, out of the countless more candidates they probably had, I would be the one to don the encounter suit. Perhaps they knew that I just couldn't help but to accept such an offer.

Indeed, even I didn't know why I signed up without hesitation. Perhaps it was because I craved to follow the motions of what was expected of me. Perhaps it was a latent drive to tap into that childhood fantasy. Perhaps it was just that innate human spirit of adventure, of breaking yet another barrier that stood in the way of human progress.

Whatever it was, I knew that by signing I was more than likely never going to see home, family, or friends again for at least a whole year while attending this 'academy' on the other side of the portal. So much for my plans for college. Who knows, maybe they'll accept transfer credits? The loss of contact with friends and family didn't bother me that much. It wasn't as if I had any tangible attachments anywhere anyways.

The military was what gave me purpose in recent years, and it would be the military that would be backing me up in this adventure going forward. If anything, I would have all to gain and nothing to lose from this venture. So, with a single stroke of a pen, the grueling training began in earnest. It was months of specialized training. Focusing on theory, protocol, but most important of all: the practical instructions necessary for a life of prolonged suiting.

The power-armor was described to me as being more akin to a spacesuit, and it was promptly drilled into me that it would be the only barrier between myself and the other dimension's unrepentantly volatile environment. How any native civilization, let alone species, had managed to evolve and survive there I did not know… What I did know however was that an entire year of being cooped up in PPE would be challenging to say the very least. Which was also why I was given a sort of inflatable tent.

One that had the same "mana"-resistant properties as the suit, but with the downsides of being unbelievably fragile, so fragile that even an off-the-counter kitchen knife could pose a real threat to it. Yet it would be my only respite in between prolonged periods of suiting, and would be required for routine maintenance when the time did call for it. Weapons, survival, and tactical exercises were all part of the training regimen, all with a heavy emphasis on the suit's various subsystems.

A fine piece of technology that I was beginning to grow fond of, given the lengths that the UN's best and brightest have gone to transform an EVA workhorse into a platoon's worth of force projection. Yet training and briefing on the other dimension was worryingly lacking. The Director herself admitted that we were going in half-blind. With far less than they would've liked to work off of. It was admittedly up to me to"make up for the lack of intel in situational adaptability and personal initiative".

I wanted to tell her that would be easier said than done, but given the circumstances, I held back on it. Eventually however, the time did come for my training, my skills, and my resolve to be put to the ultimate test. As I stood there in the middle of a lab straight out of a science fiction movie, with administrative staff, military attaches, and leading scientific minds all hiding behind a veritable bunker that overlooked a room filled to the brim with monitoring equipment and strange runic markings on the floor.

"Whatever happens, Cadet. Know that you're making history, and that you're making your country, your people, and the entirety of the human race, proud. Out of the 252 billion humans in this galaxy, you will be one of the only two to have stepped through this threshold." The Director spoke in a rousing speech which elicited a few claps from behind her, as I responded with a single thumbs up and a nod.

"Neil Armstrong, Peter Li, Jean Rousseau, and Eleanor Sobeck all had something to say before they made their big leaps forward, didn't they?" I asked, as the portal before me started to grow in increasing size and intensity.

"If I can even be compared to any of them that is… I'd like to say something as well."

"Whatever it is, you better make it a quick one cadet, the portal's about to reach criticality."

"Humanity has always reached for the stars, reaching ever outwards towards the heavens. Today, humanity reaches beyond the stars, beyond the heavens, into the pages of fiction itself." The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, Nexus. Emma Booker It happened almost instantly.

In fact, it felt as if nothing had happened at all, as all I saw was the drab concrete and composite walls suddenly disappearing for a split second, only to be replaced with a room that looked like it was pulled straight from a recreation of Versailles. It was the same feeling you'd get when leaving one room and entering another. Except without ever actually physically moving at all.

My eyes had barely adjusted to that sudden shift in my surroundings before I was met face to face with what could only be described as three humanoid figures pulled straight from a fantasy novel. They all stared at me with the same shocked expression I probably had underneath the opaque lenses of the helmet.

Yet as I noticed their robed figures, and most importantly, the distinct coloration between each of them, it became clear to me that these three most likely belonged to whatever staff, faculty, or hierarchy that existed here. Different colored robes, denoting different ranks, departments maybe? Clearly some sort of hierarchy, which means, officials, staff, faculty, teachers? I thought to myself as I held up a single, suited hand, and waved.

"Hi. I'm Emma. The new student from Earth?" My whole body tensed as I spoke those words, realizing what I'd just done… I gave my speech before I arrived here. Which means… the first words ever spoken by a human in this new reality would be… oh god what have I done. It didn't take long however before the silence was promptly broken by the most striking figure in the group, a blue-robed elf, who immediately came to my side with an expression of growing concern.

"Emma was it? How are you feeling?" He seemed fixated on my helmet, tapping at the armor's composite chest-plate before continuing in a voice that did little to hide his rising anxiousness.

"I hear no breaths coming from… er, through that suit of armor. C-can you breathe? I-if someone has gone wrong with this… contraption, please inform me immediately so that we may take you to the infirmary in order to remove-""Whoah whoah whoah!" I raised up both hands defensively, the mere mention of removing the suit sent my survival training into overdrive as I took a few steps back, taking a moment to gather myself.

"I… I'm fine. I feel fine at least. And the suit's fine as well. I erm. If I feel off or anything I'll be sure to tell you… sir?" I cocked my head, realizing that none of the three have yet to introduce themselves.

"Ah, yes, the introductions." The black-robed one spoke next. This one was also elvish… except, darker, almost purple? A purple with a heavy hint of charcoal. Like someone had poured activated charcoal into grape soda. His hair was black, slick, and was formed back into two distinct locks.

"I am Council-Appointed Professor Mal'tory, I am in charge of administrative duties relaying matters I deem of significance to the Privy Council and His Majesty the King, himself. As a Professor I am in charge of the Arts of Perception and Light." The man refused to acknowledge me in any other way than a piercing stare. I bowed my head all the same though, not wanting to break any social faux pas on my first day.

"And I am Professor Vanavan, assistant to the Dean, and Professor of Mana-field Studies." The blue-robed elf who had rushed up to me spoke, giving me half nod before turning to the older, clearly winded red-robed professor.

"This is Professor Belnor, she is in charge of the Potions Department and Professor of Potions crafting." He spoke, before raising both arms up a welcoming gesture.

"We're happy to have you here, Emma of Earthrealm." Once introductions were firmly out of the way, I gave a firmer, deeper bow. The three responded with varying degrees of acknowledgement, before Vanavan once more took charge of the group, gesturing for me to follow.

"You will have to forgive me for the brashness in my outward concern. The fate of your predecessor still looms over the academy like a specter of great shame; a tragedy that none of us wishes to see repeated. I have personally taken it upon myself to ensure that you do not suffer this fate. So long as you remain within my purview, within the walls of this academy, I will see to it that your life is free from harm." Vanavan spoke with a certain severity that sent chills down my spine.

The polite, caring expression contrasted heavily with the intensity of his speech. Yet that intensity seemed to die down almost immediately as we left the foyer, now morphing to a more amicable, excitable expression.

"So, it is clear that we will have much to discuss regarding your uniform and your manner of dress, Emma of Earthrealm. Though we should make haste to the orientation first and foremost! Everyone has been waiting with bated breath for your safe and timely arrival!" As the grand double-doors of the foyer closed behind us, I took note as the black-robed professor seemed to linger behind, his eyes fixated on a small slit nestled high up in a far flung corner of the room.