The golden spell struck empty air.
Jimmy was no longer there.
He reappeared twenty paces behind the guards.
For half a heartbeat, triumph flared in his chest.
Then the world went white.
Not bright.
Empty.
The wind vanished.
The hum in the air cut out like a wire severed.
His knees buckled.
He hit the cobblestones hard.
Sound rushed back in slowly, as if he were underwater—distant shouts, metal scraping stone, the pounding of boots.
The system panel flickered violently across his vision.
Bandwidth: 0%
All active casting suspended.
Jimmy blinked against the dizziness.
"Suspended?" he croaked. "Define suspended."
Non-functional.
His limbs felt like sandbags.
The prickle in the air that had been constant since his arrival was gone.
The world felt dull.
Heavy.
He tried to summon wind.
Nothing responded.
Panic clawed up his throat.
The guards spun, realizing what he had done.
One pointed.
"There!"
They charged.
Jimmy forced himself upright, staggering. No wind propelled him now. No sudden displacement. Just muscle and adrenaline.
He ran.
This time, it felt horribly normal.
The cobblestones were uneven. His breath tore through his lungs. His sneakers slipped on grit and dust.
He cut across the wider street and dove into a narrow market lane just as a spear clanged against stone where he had been.
Stalls lined the path—fabric awnings in faded reds and blues, crates of unfamiliar fruit, bundles of herbs hanging from wooden beams. Civilians scattered at the sight of armored enforcers storming through.
"Out of the way!" one guard shouted.
A woman yanked her child aside.
A man ducked behind a cart.
No one tried to stop the soldiers.
No one protested.
They moved like people used to getting out of the way.
Jimmy's stomach twisted.
He shoved between two vendors and nearly collided with a stack of clay pots. They toppled with a crash behind him.
"Stop!" a guard roared.
Jimmy didn't look back.
He couldn't afford the distraction.
He turned another corner, then another, lungs burning, legs screaming. The city twisted around him in unfamiliar geometry—narrow streets feeding into courtyards, stone staircases climbing unexpectedly between buildings, iron balconies overhead like watching eyes.
He slowed abruptly at the top of a short staircase.
Ahead lay a dead end.
A tall stone wall.
No doors.
No archway.
Just brick.
"Fantastic," he gasped.
Bootsteps echoed up the stairs behind him.
He spun.
Three guards emerged into the narrow space, cloaks flaring behind them.
This close, he could see the sigil etched into their armor more clearly—interlocking lines forming a crest shaped like a crown pierced by a blade.
One of them began forming a circle again.
Golden lines etched themselves into the air with frightening precision.
Jimmy lifted his hands instinctively—
Nothing answered.
The emptiness inside him felt worse than pain.
"A.L.L.I.E.," he whispered urgently. "Tell me something useful."
Current options: flee physically or surrender.
"That's it?!"
You depleted your casting reserve recklessly.
"Helpful!"
The golden circle brightened.
Heat licked the air.
Jimmy's mind raced.
He had no magic.
No system crutch.
Just—
Him.
He glanced upward.
Above the narrow space, laundry lines stretched between buildings. Wooden beams jutted from stone walls at irregular intervals. Windows, shuttered but not barred, lined the upper floors.
An idea flickered.
Not elegant.
Not magical.
Just desperate.
The lead guard stepped forward.
"Surrender," he said, voice steady. "You are property of the Empire pending classification."
Property.
The word hit harder than the spear had.
Jimmy's jaw tightened.
"Yeah," he muttered under his breath. "That's not happening."
The circle locked into place.
The guard thrust his hand forward.
Flame surged.
Jimmy didn't think.
He moved.
Not with wind.
Not with power.
With instinct.
He sprinted toward the wall instead of away from it.
The guard's spell detonated behind him, scorching stone and sending a blast of heat across his back.
Jimmy leapt, planting one foot against the wall and shoving upward. His hands caught a jutting wooden beam just above reach.
His shoulders screamed.
He hauled himself up as the guards swore below.
Another circle began forming.
Faster now.
He scrambled along the beam and lunged for a laundry line. It snapped under his weight, but not before he grabbed the balcony railing above it.
He swung hard against the stone wall, ribs protesting, and clawed his way up onto the narrow ledge.
A blast of fire roared beneath him.
The heat washed over his legs.
He rolled onto the balcony, gasping.
A shuttered window loomed behind him.
No time to knock.
He threw his shoulder against it.
The wood splintered inward.
He tumbled into a dim interior room and hit the floor in a scatter of dust and broken latch.
A startled shout rang out.
Jimmy looked up to find an elderly man staring at him from across the room, a cup frozen halfway to his lips.
They stared at each other.
Bootsteps thundered below.
The guards were shouting to one another.
Jimmy scrambled to his feet.
"I am so sorry," he blurted.
The man's eyes flicked to the shattered shutters.
To the balcony.
To the sound of armored boots outside.
Understanding dawned slowly.
He set the cup down carefully.
Then he pointed wordlessly toward an interior door.
Jimmy didn't hesitate.
He ran.
The room beyond was narrow and cluttered with shelves. He pushed through another door and found himself in a tight corridor that opened onto a staircase.
He took the stairs two at a time.
Behind him, a crash echoed from the balcony room.
They had followed.
Of course, they had.
Jimmy burst out onto the rooftop.
The city unfolded around him in chaotic layers—stone roofs, slanted tiles, chimneys, banners, smoke curling lazily into the sky.
He didn't stop.
He ran across the rooftop, leaping a narrow gap to the next building.
This time, there was no magic cushioning his fall.
His knee slammed into the tile.
He barely caught himself before sliding off the edge.
He clawed his way up, chest heaving.
Behind him, one of the guards vaulted onto the roof with disturbing ease.
They were trained.
Disciplined.
And he was—
A guy who had been buying milk.
Jimmy staggered to his feet and sprinted again.
His head throbbed.
The dull emptiness where magic had been still weighed on him.
"A.L.L.I.E.," he panted. "Tell me this isn't permanent."
Bandwidth recovery in progress.
"How long?"
Estimated partial restoration: ninety seconds.
"Ninety—" He almost laughed. "That's an eternity!"
Time perception under duress is unreliable.
"Mine feels very reliable!"
A shout rose from below.
Civilians were pointing upward now.
Word was spreading.
The anomaly was on the roofs.
Jimmy reached the edge of the building and skidded to a stop.
Ahead lay a wide avenue.
Too wide to jump.
Too far down to drop safely.
The guards were closing in behind him.
One is already forming another circle.
He backed toward the edge despite himself.
Stone crumbled under his heel.
His pulse roared in his ears.
The system panel flickered faintly back into view.
Bandwidth: 6%
Jimmy inhaled sharply.
"Six is better than zero," he muttered.
Agreed. Recommend minimal-output displacement.
Minimal.
Not dramatic.
Not flashy.
Just enough.
The guard's circle flared bright gold.
Jimmy locked onto the opposite rooftop.
Focused.
Smaller.
Tighter.
The wind stirred—weak, but present.
He bent his knees.
The golden spell discharged.
Jimmy moved.
The world snapped sideways.
And for the second time since arriving in this world—
He vanished.