Jake locked the front door behind them.
The sound echoed louder than it should have, sharp and final, as if the house itself was acknowledging that something had changed.
For a moment, Joshen remained on the small front step, staring at the worn-down building. Peeling paint clung to the walls like dead skin. The windows sat crooked in their frames. The place carried the quiet weight of years—of people coming and going, of better days that would never return.
This house was not magical.
But it was heavy with memories.
Joshen exhaled slowly and turned away without another comment.
The street outside was louder. Alive.
Cars streamed past in steady rivers of metal. Horns blared in irritated bursts. Engines growled. The air smelled of fuel, dust, and fried food from nearby stalls. Voices overlapped. Laughter mixed with shouting. Life happened everywhere at once.
The city didn't feel magical.
It felt real.
Overwhelmingly real.
A yellow-and-black taxi slowed near them, tires screeching lightly as it pulled to the side.
Joshen stiffened instantly.
"That thing looks angry."
That's a taxi, Jake said. It's how we get around.
"It looks like it wants to fight me."
The car stopped. The driver leaned out, speaking rapidly in a language Joshen barely understood, his tone casual but sharp.
Jake smoothly took control of the mouth.
Joshen felt it—the strange, uncomfortable sensation of someone else steering his body. His jaw moved without his permission. His voice came out steady, fluent.
He still hated that feeling.
It reminded him, every time, that this body was not fully his.
They got in.
The door slammed shut with a heavy thud that echoed inside the cramped vehicle.
Joshen stared around, eyes scanning everything. The glowing meters. The small screen playing music. The mounted phone beside the steering wheel. Buttons. Lights. Symbols.
"…How many artifacts does one vehicle need?"
None of those are artifacts, Jake replied. They're just tools.
Joshen squinted. "Your tools look suspiciously magical."
The taxi merged into traffic.
The city blurred past the windows.
Tall buildings towered over narrow streets. Crowded sidewalks overflowed with people. Neon signs flashed in colors that felt too bright. Street vendors shouted offers. Motorbikes weaved between cars like suicidal rogues.
People laughed. People argued. People lived.
Joshen leaned closer to the glass, eyes tracking everything.
"In my world," he said quietly, "cities were quieter. You could feel mana in the air. It flowed through streets, through walls, through people. Here…"
Here it's different, Jake finished. No mana. Just people.
Joshen didn't answer.
He kept watching.
The longer he looked, the more unsettled he felt. No glowing runes. No ambient magic. No familiar hum of energy in the air.
It was like standing in a world with a missing sense.
After a while, he muttered, "How far is this airport?"
Far enough for you to regret asking.
Joshen scoffed. "Encouraging. Truly."
The highway opened up.
Buildings slowly gave way to long, wide roads. Massive signs in multiple languages towered above them. Endless streams of vehicles moved in terrifying coordination, somehow avoiding disaster through pure human madness.
Joshen watched in silence.
"…Your world runs on controlled chaos."
Pretty much.
Then he saw it.
A massive structure rose in the distance.
Glass. Steel. Endless lanes of moving cars. Beyond a tall fence, giant metal shapes rested under the sun.
Airplanes.
They looked like enormous sleeping beasts.
Joshen's eyes widened.
"…That's the airport?"
Welcome to it.
The taxi slowed as they approached.
Just before the doors opened, Jake added quietly—
From here on, things only get weirder for you.
Joshen cracked his neck slowly.
"Good," he said. "I was getting bored."
The automatic doors slid open.
Joshen stopped dead.
People.
Hundreds of them.
Maybe thousands.
They moved in every direction. Rolling metal boxes followed behind them. People talked into glowing rectangles, faces serious, laughing, stressed. Voices clashed in languages he didn't recognize. Screens flashed departure times like massive spell circles carved from light.
The noise hit him like a physical force.
"…What," Joshen muttered, "is this battlefield?"
Relax, Jake said. It's just an airport.
"Just? There are more people here than in some cities in my world!"
A family rushed past them. A child laughed as a suitcase nearly slammed into Joshen's leg.
He jumped back instantly, hand twitching toward where a weapon would normally be.
"THE BOXES ATTACK TOO?!"
They're called suitcases. And no, they don't bite. Usually.
Joshen glared at a passing suitcase suspiciously. "Your world has very aggressive furniture."
They were pulled into the security line.
The metal detector stood tall, humming softly.
Joshen froze mid-step.
His eyes narrowed.
"…Is that a detection artifact?"
Pretty much. But it's looking for weapons. Not magic.
Joshen glanced down at himself.
"I am the weapon."
Don't say that out loud.
Too late.
The security guard stared at him.
Joshen forced an awkward smile. "Uh… joke?"
Jake mentally facepalmed so hard it probably caused psychic damage.
The guard stared for another long, uncomfortable second.
Then he waved them through with a bored sigh.
Joshen finally released the breath he'd been holding.
"That went better than expected."
Trust me, Jake said. That was smooth by this world's standards.
They were carried forward by the endless current of people. Signs pointed in every direction. Gates. Terminals. Boarding zones.
None of it meant anything to Joshen.
Everything meant something to Jake.
He followed blindly, trying not to get separated, nearly getting run over by luggage twice and accidentally making eye contact with someone who looked way too serious about catching their flight.
Eventually, they reached their gate.
Outside the massive glass wall—
A giant metal bird waited.
Joshen stared in silence.
"…That is the flying machine?"
Yep.
"It's bigger than some fortresses."
Also yep.
They boarded.
The inside of the plane felt wrong.
Too narrow. Too packed. Rows of seats stretched endlessly. Overhead compartments opened and slammed shut. The air smelled recycled, artificial, stale.
Joshen hesitated in the aisle.
"…Why are there so many chairs?"
Because humans are bad at personal space.
They found their seats.
Joshen sat carefully.
The seatbelt clicked.
He flinched hard.
"…It just restrained me."
Safety feature. Try not to fight it.
"I don't like being tied down."
The plane began to move.
Joshen grabbed the armrests.
"It's rolling."
Normal.
"The ground is getting faster."
Still normal.
The engines roared.
The sound was deafening.
Joshen swallowed.
"…Jake."
Yes?
"If we die, I'm haunting you first."
Fair.
The plane accelerated.
The force pressed Joshen back into his seat.
Then—
The ground vanished.
His stomach dropped.
His breath caught in his throat.
The city shrank beneath them. Buildings turned into toys. Roads into thin threads.
"…We're flying," Joshen whispered.
For once, there was no sarcasm.
No jokes.
Only awe.
Yeah, Jake said softly. We are.
Hours later, the plane descended.
Heat shimmered outside the window, warping the air.
When the doors opened, thick, dry air rushed in—heavy with dust and fuel.
Joshen stepped out.
The heat struck him like a physical wall.
His skin prickled instantly.
"…Why is the air angry here?"
Welcome to Egypt. Desert climate.
The airport felt different.
The energy was different.
Not magical.
But heavy.
Old.
Languages he didn't recognize echoed around them. Signs written in unfamiliar script lined the walls. The rhythm of the place felt sharper. Older.
Joshen's chest tightened.
Not from the heat.
From something else.
"…Do you feel that?" he asked quietly.
Jake went silent for a long moment.
Yeah, he admitted. I do.
They moved through customs. Through long halls. Through crowds that felt denser, louder, heavier.
Outside—
Cairo.
Noise. Chaos. Life.
Traffic horns screamed constantly. Vendors shouted. Buildings pressed close together. The sun burned mercilessly overhead, bleaching colors and casting harsh shadows.
Joshen shielded his eyes.
"This place feels… heavy."
It's old, Jake said. Older than most things you've seen.
As the city slowly thinned—
Concrete gave way to open land.
Sand.
Endless sand.
Then—
On the horizon—
Massive shapes rose from the desert.
Perfect.
Unnatural.
Ancient.
Joshen went completely still.
His breath stopped.
His heart pounded.
"…Those," he whispered.
The pyramids.
Even from a distance, they felt wrong.
Too precise.
Too intentional.
Like they were not just structures—
But markers.
The small stone in Joshen's pocket suddenly turned cold.
Sharp.
Alert.
We found them, Jake said quietly.
Joshen didn't blink.
"No."
"They found us."