On Earth.
A young teen boy walked through the streets, carrying a grocery bag. He wore black trousers, a black turtleneck and a white jacket.
The city lights shine above him, familiar yet somehow distant.
"...So how much does it all cost?" He asked.
Sir. It comes to thirty credits." The shopkeeper replied.
The boy took a card from his pocket and handed it over.
When the transaction finished he stepped back outside and looked up the city. The lights were the same ,but they felt wrong
Because he came from Earth—but not this one. Everything had changed.
He remembered the day it started. He had been walking through the streets, head down, when he saw her: a girl with blue hair, standing in the middle of the road. The people around her didn't even glance her way. No one else noticed her.
He had been about to step forward, to ask who she was, when the world twisted.
And then he woke up here, in a place where everything—except his parents—was different.
He stared at a giant board hanging above the city, its screen glowing with a news feed.
"Looks like, for the first time in the history of this Earth, the fairy from the Simphog clan has completed her first trial with a success rate of ninety percent."
The boy watched, expression blank.
"…'If you awaken, please inform us, as we can minimize the chances of your dying.'"
He snorted.
"Bullshit. I've seen too many people die. Just saying they'll 'minimize' death doesn't change anything."
He glanced at the image of the girl on the screen.
"And that fairy has her whole clan backing her. Of course she survived."
He muttered under his breath, "I'd rather stay away from all this bullshit. My family's doing well. I don't need power."
As if fate had been waiting for those words, an interface screen suddenly appeared in front of his face.
"You have been discovered to have the talent to wield mana that is present in all existence, as per the rules that have been set."
"If you can prove you have whatit takes, then only can you start your journey and wield mana freely."
"So I am pleased to inform you: be ready. You only have two hours."
"The Realm of Shattered Dreams will open for you."
"Good luck, Survivor."
The screen vanished.
His heart hammered in his chest. Sweat beaded on his forehead. The words echoed in his skull.
"Trial…?" he whispered. "Why did I sign up for this? I don't want mana. I don't want this."
He thought of the magi he'd seen in the city—those who called themselves magus—performing miracles with a flick of their hands.
"…Maybe mana isn't so bad," he added, forcing a smirk. "I've seen them do… incredible things."
But the fear wouldn't leave.
Around him, people had noticed the interface. In this age, such a thing was impossible to miss.
"Looks like a young one," one of them muttered. "Sigh… didn't expect him to die so soon."
"Yeah," another said. "May the gods favor him. Even if
he survives with only one leg, that'll be fine."
The boy heard them and froze.
"Wait," he said, turning toward them. "Do you think I'm already dead? Why are you talking about me like that? I'm going to die a hundred percent, and if I do come back, I'll only have one limb."
He glared at them.
"You old fogies, keep your pity to yourselves."
The moment the words left his mouth, he felt a sudden wave of heat behind him.
"…Why am I feeling hot?" he muttered. "It's winter."
He turned.
The crowd's eyes were no longer on him.
They were locked in the sky.
A man rode toward him on a trail of fire.
The boy recognized him instantly.
Emberflare.
The strongest magus on the planet.
The flames surged forward. Emberflare leapt down, grabbed the boy by the arm, and hauled him up like a stray dog.
"Boy," he said, "you don't have time. Forgive me, but this is the only way you can reach the camp fast."
He formed hand seals with practiced speed. The flames beneath them twisted upward, reshaping into a giant bird of fire. The creature roared, then shot forward, carrying them both at a speed that shattered the sound barrier.
The boy would have died from the force alone if not for a barrier Emberflare had thrown up around him.
"Whoa…" he muttered, half‑afraid, half‑fascinated. "That was… cool."
Emberflare glanced at him.
"That's just an emission of mana. You'll learn it too—if you live long enough to reach my level."
His tone carried no pride, only cold certainty.
"But first," he added, "you have to survive the trial."
The boy's shoulders dropped. His earlier smirk faded.
"Don't worry," Emberflare said. "You still have time. And you're lucky I was nearby for that celebrity fairy's broadcast.
The boy didn't reply, but in his heart, he sent a dry thanks to the fairy from the Simphog clan.
In less than ten minutes, the flaming bird descended.
Below them, a sprawling camp stretched out beneath distant towers. The base was a city of its own, built around the entrance to the Realm of Shattered Dreams.
As the bird landed, the boy stared at the buildings around him. They towered higher than Burj Khalifa, multiple times over, their surfaces gleaming under the artificial sky. People moved in a hurried rhythm, running between halls, shops, and barracks. A few shopkeepers smiled, clearly expecting business.
"What's with all the activity?" the boy asked.
"When new people take the trial," someone nearby explained, "it's a lot of work. If a survivor doesn't finish their trial, a spatial portal opens between the material world and the Realm of Shattered Dreams."
"Then the native monsters pass through," another voice added. "Chaos follows. You can understand why everyone's busy."
The boy nodded slowly.
"Yeah… I get it."
In five minutes, they reached a large hall. The others barely glanced at them as they approached.
The man walking beside the boy was the strongest magus on the planet; no one dared get in his way.
When they arrived at the door, Emberflare finally spoke.
"Boy," he said, "be careful. This trial will send you into the Realm of Shattered Dreams, where every imagination exists… but in a corrupted form."
"That's why it's called 'Shattered Dreams.'"
The boy swallowed.
"…And you haven't given your name."
The boy looked up.
"Noel Winters."
The man's eyes widened slightly at the surname.
"Boy… why didn't you tell me you were from the Winters lineage.
Noel shrugged.
"If I had, all this would've just wasted more of your time and mine."
Emberflare let out a quiet laugh.
"…You're right," he said. "Very well. Go. I'll contact your family."
He snapped his fingers. A small symbol of fire flared for an instant, then vanished.
The boy stared.
"…What was that? How did he just disappear?"
"Space magic," a voice from inside the room answered. "You wouldn't understand it even if I explained it. Don't bother. Just come in."
The boy—Noel—stepped inside.
The room was filled with children and young people, all between the ages of fifteen and twenty‑five. The air smelled faintly of dust and old paper.
As he finished, a girl stepped forward.
She had platinum‑white hair, a sword at her side, and wore white armor that gleamed even under the room's dim light.
She looked almost ethereal.
"I am Erza," she said. "You may know me by another name."
Noel recognized her immediately.
"A fairy," he thought.
Her skin was flawless, her lips a soft pink, and her frame tall and graceful.
The armor made her look like she belonged in another world entirely.
"
As you know," she continued, "I completed my trial with a high score."
The room went quiet. Every eye turned to her.
"Now," she said, "listen well. I will only say this once."
"First of all, when you enter the trial, you will be given a choice of class. The main options are Archer, Mage, and Fighter. There are also professions, but you must unlock them inside the trial or receive an inheritance that has been left behind."
"Who leaves those inheritances in the trial?" he asked.
"
You will only know that inside," Erza replied calmly. "Don't press the question."
Her gaze swept over the room
"But listen carefully," she said.
"This is the most important thing."
She paused.
"Don't trust humans. And don't trust anyone."
"…Why?" a hesitant voice asked.
Erza's eyes darkened.
"That's a question the Realm of Shattered Dreams will answer for you."