Chapter 1: The First Rule of Painless Training
Liam O'Connell adjusted the strap of his duffel bag, the harsh, midday sun beating down on the
parade ground of the prestigious Blackwood Military Academy. He didn't sweat easily, but he did burn, a fact he was careful to manage with industrial-strength sunscreen.
He looked exactly like the rest of the new recruits: buzz-cut, sharp uniform, and a nervous
energy that vibrated in the humid summer air. But Liam was acutely aware of the secret he
carried, one that set him irrevocably apart: Congenital Insensitivity to Pain (CIP). He couldn't feel a broken bone, a searing burn, or a muscle tear. His body was a machine without a warning light.
That's precisely why he was here. He knew people thought he was reckless, maybe even crazy,
but he wasn't looking for danger; he was looking for discipline. He needed external rules,
external limits, to compensate for the internal sensor he lacked. Military school felt like the ultimate manual control.
"O'Connell!" Sergeant Major Rhodes, a man built like a granite slab and possessing a voice that could curdle milk, barked his name. "You just completed the obstacle course in record time, but you missed the final rope! Drop and give me fifty!"
Liam immediately hit the dirt. Fifty push-ups. Easy. Too easy.
"I said fifty, Recruit!" Rhodes yelled, looming over him.
"I am giving you fifty, Sergeant Major," Liam replied, his voice calm. He was already at push-up number fifteen.
Rhodes grabbed a nearby stopwatch. "I saw you graze the wall on the low crawl. You could have scraped half your face off! Are you even aware of the risk, O'Connell?"
Liam paused, holding plank position, a faint, almost teasing smile playing on his lips. "I am always aware of the risk, sir. I simply don't care about the injury."
Rhodes stared, his nostrils flaring. Liam was a paradox—the perfect soldier because he was fearless, and the biggest liability because he was too fearless. He never complained, never
flinched, and never understood why the other recruits were collapsing from exhaustion.
That night, Liam was assigned to Quartermaster Storage B-7, a notoriously dusty, neglected
warehouse where they kept all the older, unidentifiable 'educational surplus.' He was tasked with inventorying a shelf of ancient, leather-bound books.
He pulled a box down, sneezing at the dust cloud. The box contained not books, but a collection of bizarre, non-military items: a crystal orb that hummed faintly, a brass sextant covered in
symbols that looked more like runes than navigation markers, and a single, cobalt-blue glass
vial filled with swirling, opalescent liquid.
As he went to lift the vial, his elbow accidentally knocked the sextant, which fell against the
crystal orb. There was a high-pitched CRACK, and a brilliant, searing-white light exploded from
the setup.
Liam instinctively threw his arms up to shield his eyes. He didn't feel the light, but he felt the
sudden, crushing pressure, like a hand squeezing the air out of the room. When the light faded,the air was cold, scented with jasmine and ozone, and the concrete walls of Quartermaster
Storage B-7 were gone.
Liam opened his eyes. He was standing on a floor of polished obsidian, and a girl with bright crimson hair and pointed ears was staring at him in horror.
Chapter 2: The Crimson-HairedCalamity
Liam blinked, taking in his new surroundings. Gone were the fluorescent lights and steel shelves of the academy. He was now in what looked like a library, but grander. Massive stone columns
climbed toward a domed ceiling painted with constellations that seemed to subtly shift.
The crimson-haired girl stood behind a massive lectern, her eyes wide, clutching a staff made of
glowing, pale wood. She wore a deep purple tunic and knee-high leather boots.
"By the Ancestors' Tears," she whispered, her voice laced with a thick, melodic accent. "The Convergence… it opened! And you fell right through it!"
Liam looked down at his standard-issue military boots, then up at the girl. He felt a weird, floaty sense of calm, the kind he always felt when everyone else was panicking.
"Apologies, ma'am," he said, giving her the perfectly crisp, academy-standard nod. "I appear to have stumbled into the wrong section of the Quartermaster's. Could you perhaps direct me to the nearest exit? I'm due back for reveille."
The girl stared at him as if he'd just asked for directions to a dragon's lair. "Reveille? Exit? You…
you just materialized in the Grand Library of Eldoria! You're standing on the very nexus point ofthe Plane-Jumper! And you are bleeding!"
"Bleeding?" Liam glanced down. On his forearm, where the sextant had grazed him, a deep,clean slice was steadily weeping crimson into his uniform sleeve. He hadn't felt a thing.
"Oh, right," he said casually, pulling a clean white handkerchief from his pocket and wrapping it around the cut. "Just a minor scrape. Probably got it on one of those old boxes."
The girl's jaw dropped. She gestured frantically toward a massive, glowing Rune-Circle etched
into the floor beneath where he was standing. "You walked right out of a dimensional tear
created by a rogue Plane-Jumper spell! That much raw arcane energy should have incinerated you, and yet you're worried about 'reveille'!"
"It was an accident," Liam insisted. "I touched a glowing orb and a rusty compass. Look, I'mguessing you're not the librarian, but do you know how to reverse this? I need to get back for
morning inspection."
The girl finally lowered her staff, a bewildered look of reluctant fascination replacing her terror.
"My name is Elara," she sighed, rubbing her temples. "And no, I don't know how to 'reverse' it.
The Plane-Jumper is an erratic, ancient piece of technology. It could take days to recalibrate the nexus. You, Recruit O'Connell, are currently stranded in the realm of Eldoria."
She walked around the lectern, examining his uniform with a curious tilt of her head. "No armor,
no magic, no fear. Are you some kind of barbarian warrior? Or maybe a traveling fool?"
Liam sighed. He was supposed to be doing inventory, not having an existential conversation
with a possibly magical, very beautiful stranger.
"I'm just a guy who needs to go back to military school," he told her, exasperated. "Is there a
manual for this Plane-Jumper thing? I'll fix it myself."
Elara burst into a sudden, genuine laugh—a clear, bell-like sound that made the shifting
constellations on the ceiling seem brighter.
"A manual?" she chuckled. "Oh, this is going to be terrible for you, but absolutely hilarious for me.Come on, Recruit. You're the first dimensional stowaway we've had in two hundred years. We
need to get you out of this library and into a change of clothes before the High Council realizes
the most powerful magical artifact in the realm just spat out a very confused, very careless, and
very… unfeeling soldier."
She grabbed his uninjured hand, pulling him away from the pulsing Rune-Circle