Date: 2742-08-21
Time: 06:12 PM
Location: Outer Old Kyoto District – Café Minamo
Ren stared at the blood-orange sky. The quiet of the ruins felt too deep.
He wasn't the same man who entered that station. And he knew it.
"Next time," he muttered, "I won't miss."
Good. Because next time, they won't.
The voice inside his head—his eye—faded, leaving only the hum of city sounds creeping back into his ears.
Ren climbed the hill above Sector 7's industrial graveyard, the wind tugging at his jacket like it was trying to pull him back. But he kept walking. He needed something—anything—normal.
Fifteen minutes later, he stepped into Café Minamo, a tucked-away corner shop nestled between a laundromat and a closed record store. The bell above the door chimed with quiet familiarity. Soft lo-fi music played beneath the murmur of a few scattered patrons. It smelled like cinnamon and real espresso.
Ren exhaled.
Normal.
Finally.
He took a seat by the window, letting the buzz of the café soothe his nerves. A waitress with short black hair and tired eyes handed him a laminated menu.
"You look like shit," she said casually.
Ren gave a tired smile. "Rough day."
She nodded. "Aren't they all?"
He ordered a coffee. Black. No sugar. His eye still ached—quiet now, but alert, like it was listening. He kept it shut as he sipped.
Then the café's holoscreen buzzed.
The anchor's voice was tense.
"We interrupt regular programming for urgent breaking news. Reports are coming in from multiple global cities—Tokyo, Paris, New Sydney, Cape Utopia—each showing evidence of sudden dimensional activity. Experts are calling them rifts. This footage was taken just moments ago in central London."
The image cut to chaos. A massive glowing spiral had opened over Westminster Bridge. Tendrils of blue energy spiraled from it like a living storm. People screamed, running from the swirling vortex as unfamiliar shapes—some humanoid, others... not—stepped through.
In Café Minamo, every fork froze halfway to every mouth.
Someone dropped their mug.
"Jesus Christ," someone whispered. "Is that real?"
Ren leaned in. "Vortex… what am I looking at?"
Rift activity. Not unstable… these are targeted. Someone's pushing species through intentionally. This isn't just bleed. It's an invasion preview.
The broadcast continued.
"We are now receiving unconfirmed reports of contact with non-human individuals in various cities. Repeat: this is a global event."
Ren's gaze slid toward the door as the bell chimed again.
Everyone turned.
A figure stood there, barefoot and trembling—barely upright. She looked human at first glance, but her skin had a faint shimmer, and her ears were long, pointed. An elf. Not the kind from video games. This one was real. And she looked terrified.
Her silver hair clung to her neck in sweaty strands. Her light armor was torn and bloody. Small cuts marked her arms and legs. Her violet eyes, sharp and otherworldly, scanned the room like a cornered animal.
She took one weak step—
And collapsed.
The café erupted.
"Someone call an ambulance!"
"No way I'm touching that thing—what if it's contagious?"
"Is that... is she real?!"
"Don't let her touch me!"
The waitress backed up, wide-eyed. Two men near the counter stood but didn't move. The elf girl let out a low, pained sound. Her hands shook as she tried to push herself off the floor, but her strength gave out.
Ren stood.
Without hesitation, he crossed the room, knelt beside her, and gently touched her shoulder. "Hey—hey, it's okay," he said softly. "You're safe now."
She blinked, struggling to focus. Her lips moved, forming syllables in a language he didn't recognize.
But his left eye flared—a pulse of faint light—and her words warped in his mind.
"Please... don't leave me. I—I didn't want to come through. I was forced. I don't know where I am."
Ren looked around. Everyone else had backed away like she was radioactive.
He turned to the room. "She's hurt. She needs help."
"She's not even human!" someone shouted.
"Let the military handle it."
"She's dangerous!"
"She's bleeding!"
Ren's fists clenched. "So what? She's still a person."
The elf coughed, her body shaking violently. She grabbed at his sleeve, weakly. "Please…"
He stood up, gently lifting her into his arms. She was light, feverish, trembling.
"I'm taking her," Ren said. "If nobody else will."
"She could kill you in your sleep," a man at the counter muttered.
"Yeah, well... I'm not sleeping much anyway," Ren shot back, then turned and left the café as the bell rang again behind him.
Time: 07:03 PM
Location: Ren's Apartment
He laid her gently on his couch. Her skin was still glowing faintly, her wounds slowly knitting together on their own, like her body was doing everything it could to stay alive.
She stirred. Her eyes opened slowly.
"Where... am I?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"My apartment," Ren said softly. "Japan. You passed out in a café. People didn't want to help."
She blinked up at him. "Why did you?"
Ren hesitated. "Because I know what it's like... to not belong. To be something people are afraid of."
A long silence passed. Then she nodded weakly. "...Thank you."
He sat beside her, rubbing his temples. "Do you have a name?"
"Lirael," she said. "Scout of the Thir Vale. I was sent to gather intelligence... but the rift dragged me in. I wasn't ready."
"Well, Lirael," Ren said, offering the tiniest smile, "welcome to Earth. It's... a mess."
And getting messier. Ren, I just intercepted a low-orbit military ping. They're mobilizing in major cities. You've got about 18 hours before containment units sweep local zones.
Great. Now he was harboring an alien refugee. During a global multiversal event.
Ren sighed. "Yeah... no pressure at all."