The sun had barely risen over the hills of ARKMOOR , casting a golden light across the valley where Sir Modrick Blackhood stood. The air was crisp, the scent of earth and steel mixed with the anticipation of battle. His men were assembled, armored and ready to face the enemy. Modrick, ever the stoic knight, surveyed the field with a calculated calm. To him, it was just another day of war another for blood shed
War. A constant in his life since he could remember. His father, the legendary Lord Geoffrey Blackhood , had trained him for this-an endless cycle of battle, strategy, and survival. Yet, as his eyes swept over his soldiers, something gnawed at him. A lingering sense of dread. A feeling that this battle, the one he was about to fight, might be different.
"Sir Modrick," a young squire, Roland, approached him, his face flushed with fear. "The enemy is at the gates."
Modrick nodded, his voice steady. "Then we shall meet them as we always do-with honor and courage." He placed a hand on Roland's shoulder, offering a rare moment of reassurance. "Stay true to your training, and you will make me proud."
But as Modrick turned toward the battlefield, a strange energy pulsed through the air, and the ground beneath him seemed to tremble. The very sky above darkened, swirling in a manner unlike any storm he had ever seen.
Before he could react, the ground cracked open with a violent explosion of light.
When Modrick's vision cleared, the battlefield was gone. The roar of battle, the cries of men, all faded into a haunting silence. His breath quickened as he surveyed the landscape. Gone were the rolling hills and the distant castles. In their place, towering buildings made of strange, gleaming materials rose high into the sky. The ground beneath him was paved with odd stones, smooth and unyielding.
"What sorcery is this?" he muttered, grasping the hilt of his sword. His heart raced with confusion and fear. He had been a knight all his life, sworn to protect the Realm, and now he found himself alone in a world that made no sense.
A metallic beast roared past him, its wheels spinning on a smooth road. Modrick instinctively stepped back, raising his sword defensively, but the creature did not stop. Instead, it sped off, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. His hand trembled on the hilt of his sword, but his mind struggled to comprehend what he had seen. There was no magic in the world capable of such a thing.
He tried to calm his breath, but the alien landscape pressed in on him, suffocating his thoughts. He had heard whispers of other worlds-far-off lands filled with beasts and men of unimaginable power-but he had never imagined that he might be thrust into such a place. The air was thick with something unfamiliar-pollution, perhaps? Or something more insidious?
His eyes scanned the horizon, seeking some form of life. In the distance, figures moved-humans, their clothes strange and foreign. He moved toward them cautiously, the weight of his armor clanking with every step.
As Modrick approached the crowd of strange people, he realized they were not merely walking. They were rushing, as though they had somewhere urgent to be. His heavy boots scraped against the pavement as he moved, and though he tried to be discreet, the strange people noticed him. Their eyes widened as he walked past them, many of them pointing, some even recoiling in fear.
One person-a man with slick, short hair and wearing a bright blue garment-stepped up to him. His eyes flicked nervously toward the sword strapped to Modrick's side.
"Uh... are you okay?" the man asked, his voice full of hesitation. "You... uh... you're in the middle of the street."
Modrick's brows furrowed in confusion. "The middle of the street?" He looked around, trying to make sense of the strange world. "I seek the battlefield, good sir. Where are the fields of honor? The weapons of men?"
The man blinked, obviously baffled. "This is New York City, man. There's no battle here. You, uh, look like you came from a costume party or something? You can't just walk around with that sword, you know?"
Modrick 's confusion deepened. "New York? I know not of this place. I am Sir Modrick Blackhood of ARKMOOR, knight of the Realm. I have come from a land of war."
The man looked at him for a long moment before laughing nervously. "Right... okay, this is... uh, strange. Look, I don't know what kind of act this is, but you really need to put down the sword before someone calls the cops."
Modrick's grip tightened on his weapon. He was no stranger to fear, but this new world seemed to lack the honor and courage that shaped his life. Where was the challenge here? Where was the call to arms?
"You speak of 'cops'?"Modrick's voice grew hard, a sense of purpose igniting within him. "If it is not battle you offer, then I shall find my own. The man seemed genuinely perplexed as Modrick walked past him, resolute in his quest to understand this new world. As Modrick ventured deeper into the city, he was confronted with more strange sights-huge banners displayed on buildings, machines that moved without horses, and small, glowing devices that people held in their hands. Every turn he took only deepened his sense of isolation.
Eventually, Modrick found himself at the foot of a great building, a massive tower of glass and steel. People were entering and exiting through its large doors, their faces cold and indifferent. It struck him like the first sight of a foreign castle-fortified, full of unknown purpose.
One man, seeing Modrick's puzzled expression, approached. His clothes were less formal than the others', and he held a strange object that blinked with light.
"You lost, friend?" the man asked, giving Modrick a bemused smile. "You look... a bit out of place."
"I seek answers," Modrick replied, his voice firm. "This world confounds me."
The man's smile faded as he took in the knight's appearance. "Well, if it's answers you want, you're going to need to start by figuring out where you are-and where you come from. This city... it's not like anything you know, man."
Modrick narrowed his eyes, ready to engage in the challenge of this new world.
"Then I will learn," he said, his voice resolute. "I will find my way, for a knight never surrenders. Not to fate, nor to time."