Standing roughly fifty meters away, one person continued filming.
A chubby teenager in bright green shark-print swim trunks.
Freckles covered his cheeks. His short brown hair stuck up in messy waves.
His phone camera stayed steady.
Miraculously.
Somehow he had also managed to turn the recording into a public livestream.
He flipped the camera toward himself.
"What's up guys, it's ya boy MarshmelowMark!"
He grinned broadly.
"Today's video just got real interesting."
He gestured dramatically behind him.
"I came out here on vacation with my big sister, right? Then everyone starts pointing at the sky."
He leaned closer to the camera.
"At first I thought we were all about to die."
He shrugged.
"So I started streaming."
He spun the phone toward the smoking crater.
"But guess what? We're still alive!"
The camera zoomed toward the crater.
"So chat… what do you think?"
"Rock?"
"Alien?"
He glanced back at his view counter.
Then nearly dropped the phone.
"Eighty thousand viewers!?"
Mark puffed up proudly.
"Must be my genetically gifted charisma."
He flashed a dramatic V-sign at the camera.
A notification popped onto the stream.
[ Subscribed Viewer TuGudFoU donated $5: Get closer to it. Show us what's in the crater.]
Mark's eyes widened.
"Whoa! Thank you for the donation! That's the first one I've ever gotten!"
He squinted at the message.
His expression immediately collapsed.
"…Get closer?"
He slowly turned the camera toward the crater.
"I dunno, man… what if there's alien stuff in there? Like those face-hugger things from the movies? I am not getting eaten alive."
Another notification appeared.
[Subscribed Viewer Morbiiii donated $10: NO BALLLLLLS]
Mark blinked.
"Hey! You think my life is worth ten bucks?"
Another message.
[Subscribed Viewer Toodle donated $50: Dew it.]
Mark froze.
Then the flood began.
Donations poured onto the screen.
[Viewer 21223 donated $0.01: Coward]
[Viewer 123 donated $1: He really is as soft as a marshmallow XD]
[Viewer 2983 donated $10: BE A MAN]
[Viewer 41623 donated $2: Push past your limits PLUS ULTRA!!!!]
[Viewer 623 donated $5: You'd just eat the face hugger]
Mark stared at the screen in disbelief.
"You guys are the worst."
He gulped loudly.
"…Fine!"
With trembling legs, he began edging closer to the crater.
"Is this close enough?"
The chat exploded again.
More donations combined with more goading taunts.
His hand shook violently as he kept walking.
Forty feet away now.
Tears streamed down his face as he continued filming, his terror somehow turning into perfect entertainment for eighty thousand viewers.
"You guys are literally going to kill me…" he muttered.
The smoke slowly began to thin.
Through the drifting haze, flashes of red and white appeared.
Mark's breathing hitched.
His shaking worsened, the camera blurring wildly as he struggled to keep it pointed at the crater.
Then a voice shouted from down the beach.
"Get away from there, you idiot!"
A tall young woman ran toward him, curly brown hair bouncing wildly behind her.
She wore a pink bikini and carried a massive beach umbrella along with a bag overflowing with hastily gathered supplies.
"If you get hurt, Mom will kill me!"
Mark turned toward her instantly.
"Kay, sis!"
Relief washed across his face.
He quickly backed away from the crater, though he carefully kept the camera pointed toward it.
Then the smoke cleared.
And the onlookers broke out into stunned silence and went quiet.
Standing within the crater was a figure.
Perfectly still.
A human silhouette.
Tall.
Straight-backed.
Almost regal.
The drifting smoke framed him like a painting brought to life.
At his waist hung the unmistakable outline of a sheathed sword, giving the entire scene the strange appearance of a fantasy knight dropped into the modern world.
The livestream chat exploded.
The small crowd that had dared approach the crater fell silent, staring in stunned disbelief.
Fear and curiosity spread through them like wildfire.
Someone whispered the question everyone was thinking.
"…What is it?"
The answer never came.
Instead, the roar of engines shattered the moment.
More than twenty black SUVs stormed across the beach, tires spraying sand and gravel as they surrounded the crater.
Police sirens followed seconds later.
Officers jumped out immediately, shouting orders as civilians were pushed back behind rapidly assembled barricades.
Mark was shoved behind the police line along with the others.
But he kept filming.
Now roughly a hundred meters away.
The livestream chat went completely insane.
[Viewer 1223 donated $1: HOLY SHIT I SAW THAT THING FALL FROM MY HOUSE]
[Viewer 938 donated $1: BRO THE GOVERNMENT PULLED UP]
[Viewer 13 donated $3: Damn I wanted to see what was inside :(]
[Viewer 30239 donated $0.50: Wait… did anyone else see that?]
A final message popped up.
[Viewer 30239: It looked like a knight. Reverse isekai?]
***
Agent Coulson, a man in a well-kept black suit, stepped out of one of the vehicles, followed by a stream of special operatives who looked like the Pro Max version of SWAT.
Spotting Natasha Romanoff, a very attractive woman with striking auburn hair in a tight, leather-fitting outfit, currently holding a sidearm and watching the operatives unload, he remarked, "You're fast."
Natasha shrugged. "I was thinking about going swimming."
Coulson, clearly confused, glanced down at her outfit, which was in no way suitable for swimming.
"It was a joke, Agent. No need to be so uptight."
"Ha," Coulson forced an awkward laugh. "Well… let's hope it's another Thor-level idiot."
Clint Barton, a brown-haired, clever-looking man with a bow and quiver that didn't match the heavily armed operatives, chuckled in an unamused tone.
"Don't count on it."
Coulson ignored the quip.
Natasha, in a playful tone, asked, "So, what do you think it is? Place your bets, an Asgardian? An Olympian? Or just an ugly bastard?"
"Ooh, can I join the bet?" Coulson asked seriously, unable to see through the joke.
Natasha and Clint both looked at him like he was a third wheel. Clint just exhaled.
"Guess we're betting now. I'm in for 'none of the above.'"
That was when shouting from the unloading operatives who had completed the encirclement began.
"It's moving!"
Silence.
The figure was fully revealed as he climbed out of the crater, which was over ten feet deep and slanted upward, the impact radius stretching more than thirty feet across.
Slowly walking out was a young man, almost too young, exactly six feet tall, with fiery red hair, sky-blue eyes, and one of the most handsome faces anyone had ever seen, with a chiseled jawline, and perfect eyebrows. His slender frame concealed compact muscle and his expression was confused and dazed, as if unsure of where he was.
"Wow," Natasha said without a hint of shame. "If all aliens look like this, humans are gonna be creating a new species."
Coulson and Clint at her side couldn't even retort. To them, it looked like a model, in a fashion magazine.
On his body was a long white coat, somehow untouched by dirt or grime. At his hip, a black belt supported a sheathed ivory sword inlaid with gold, its fine craftsmanship immediately evident.
The operatives, seeing the sheathed sword at his waist, grew more wary, almost eager to pull the trigger if the red-haired man made any sudden moves.
The silence lasted a full twenty seconds. The young man looked around, noticing the encirclement of men with rifles all aimed directly at him.
Seeming to understand, he tried to de-escalate the situation by stiffly raising his hands into the air as a sign of compliance, a sheepish smile on his face as if he thought the display was overkill.
At this, more than fifty high-powered rifles and eight grenade launchers locked onto him with audible clicks.
Clearing his throat, Agent Coulson picked up a megaphone and raised it to his mouth, preparing to speak, but the young man beat him to it.
"Fuyō na kyōfu o ataete shimatta koto o owabi shimasu. Shikashi, anata ga watashi ni mukete iru bukki no kazu wa kajō desu. Watashi wa anata no teki de wa arimasen. Watashi wa anata ni gai o kuwaeru tsumori wa arimasen. Dakara, moshi kanarazu watashi ni mukete hakisha-butsu o nerawanai de itadakeru to, motto yuukōteki ni kanjimasu."
--("I apologize for causing you undue fear, however the number of weapons you have directed at me is unnecessary. I am not your enemy. I have no intention to harm you. So, if you could kindly not aim your projectiles toward me, I would feel more amiable .")
Coulson paused, brow furrowed. "What language is that? It sounds familiar." He glanced at Natasha, who stood beside him, calm, she was well known to be fluent in more languages than most intelligence databases.
Before she could answer, Clint cut in, arms folded.
"It's Japanese. He said he's not our enemy and wants the guns lowered."
Without waiting, Clint grabbed the megaphone out of Coulson's hands.
"Buki o suterō, sore kara hanasō!"
–("Throw down the weapon, then we'll talk!") He barked into it.
The red-haired young man turned his attention to Clint, calling back in the same calm, overly formal tone, even as he raised his voice to be heard:
"Shitsurei o owabi shimasu. Shikashi, kore wa sedai o koete uketsugarete kita kazoku no isan desu. Tatoe shibaraku demo tebanasu koto wa, watashi no chii to senzo-tachi ni taishite hijō ni fukei ni narimasu. Anshin shite kudasai. Watashi wa, watashi o shigeki shinai kagiri, dare ni mo gai o kuwaeru koto wa arimasen."
--("My apologies! However, this is a family heirloom passed down through generations. It would be deeply disrespectful to my title and ancestors to part with it, even momentarily. I assure you, I will not harm anyone who does not provoke me.")
Clint grits his teeth. "You've gotta be kidding me."
Coulson, wearing a faint, dry smile, asked, "Translation?"
"I told him to drop the sword. He said no, because 'ancestral honor' or something."
The young man paused. His brows drew together slightly, his head tilting in innocent confusion, like their voices were being heard, and something didn't quite make sense.
"Would you rather I speak in this language to converse with you?" the young man asked suddenly, clearly having overheard their conversation despite the distance.
At that, several of the soldiers visibly relaxed. Understanding the man somehow made him seem less threatening.
Coulson gave a short nod and stepped through the line of troops.
"Lower your weapons." Agent Coulson called out, before directing his gaze on the young man.
Slowly approaching the red-haired stranger with measured caution. His voice was calm but nervous.
"Can you understand me? Who are you? What are you? Where are you from? And what do you want?"
The young man's brows furrowed. It wasn't defiance, it looked more like... uncertainty. As if he didn't quite know how to answer most of those questions.
***
Reinhard woke in the crater, standing perfectly upright, utterly bewildered.
This wasn't Lugunica. Nor the prison.
How did I get here?