As of April 22, 2022, this chapter has been rewritten

Prime Minister’s residence, Tokyo, 10:30

Ah, shit.

Emerging out into the bright lights of the conference room, Prime Minister Takamori Hideaki was slightly caught by surprise by the barrage of camera flashes raining down on him. Recovering from this slight quip, he promptly bent his back over to bow to the rows upon rows of news media and reporters. Still, under the carpet of constant flashes and shutter clicks, Takamori proceeded to the platform and upon reaching it, he faced the still banner of the national flag of Japan, its bright red disc in full, mighty display, and bowed before it.

As he took his designated position behind the podium and the microphones, he faced the crowd of reporters with a stern face.

Today was a historical day, but not one any of them hoped to ever face. To everyone, everything was still unclear, with so many questions and doubts as to what was happening. Despite his government’s fears of a nationwide panic that would befall Japan, he knew that there was little use to beating around the bush. His resignation to this fact remains his most painful, for he himself does not know what to expect from it. Still, if it were anyone’s responsibility to manhandle Japan and its problems, it has to be him, the prime minister.

He looked across the transparent panels flanking his sides, which contained projections of his speech. Then, the speaker formally announced his presence to silence the room.

“From this moment forth, the Prime Minister will now be speaking.”

As the last shutter click faded into muteness, Takamori opened his mouth.

From here on out, Japan would be condemned to its unfortunate destiny.

“Today, all across Japan, anomalies in the form of mass communications blackout have made it impossible to establish contact with the outside world, and after a thorough initial investigation, we have come to an improbable conclusion, and yet it is exactly what we have found ourselves in.”

Taking a short break to catch his breath, Takamori took a snap of what he was seeing. It would be the last several seconds before he has to reveal the truth, the calm before the storm. Gripping his fist from outside the view of the cameras, he steeled himself for the words that he was about to utter.

“Credible, independent observations from all across the country have found that the terrestrial horizon is further out and that the night skies have considerably changed, so much so that they no longer resemble any star maps in possession. We have traced these changes all the way back to around 3:28 in the morning, at which point our mass communication infrastructure with the outside world has also failed.”

Camera shutters, and flashes restarted once more as Takamori started seeing perplexed expressions on some of the reporters.

“Mobilizing the Coast Guard and the Self Defense Forces, we have discovered that the Asian mainland, particularly the nearby landmasses of Taiwan, the Korean Peninsula, and Sakhalin, have all disappeared completely. Instead, we have made contact with peoples whose language we have never heard before from lands we have never ever seen.”

The mood in the room turned horrid as reporters and government staff alike started to look panicked.

“This is conclusive proof that Japan has experienced a world transfer event, and thus we have found ourselves in a completely different world, yet one that is not too alien from our own.”

Takamori swallowed in an effort to maintain his composure as the reporters started losing theirs. Flashes intensified, but he continued regardless.

“Setting aside the scientific impossibility of this conclusion and its ramifications in that field, this puts our nation in a severely horrible position, unprecedented in history. With mounting confidence that we are truly severed from our allies and trade partners, we are expecting veritable effects of intense magnitude on our economy and security. Thus, with the powers vested in me as prime minister, I hereby declare a state of emergency on the entire country, effective immediately.”

Unable to keep to themselves their curiosity and agitation, the reporters promptly hounded him with questions.

Embassy of the United States of America to Japan, 11:00

A good amount of men and women tuned in to the live broadcast, listening to the prime minister’s conference as they had to handle an endless workload pressing down on them. They were trying to restore communications with other American stations in the periphery of the western Pacific. As soon as the prime minister dropped the uncomfortable truth, many among the embassy staff began panicking, their supposedly temporary tenure in the land of the rising sun now made depressingly permanent. Some could not hold back their sobbing, distraught at the prospect of not being able to go back home. Those that consoled them gave them hope, but deep inside, they too knew how hopeless the situation seemed for them.

Ambassador Francis Woods was with his staff, watching with them the prime minister’s live press conference on the flat screen. Tired from being consumed in his work, he had long made off without his formal coat, effectively dropping formalities with his staff as he shared their devastation and anxieties. Wiping the sweat that had accumulated on his wrinkled face despite the air conditioning, he listened in on the conference as a question of interest was brought up by a reporter.

“What of the foreign nationals currently stuck on Japanese soil? Also, if I recall correctly, the US still maintains a considerable force presence on the islands, and now there’s also the United Kingdom’s carrier strike group, which is also present in Yokosuka.”

Woods watched as Takamori’s line of sight lingered in the air for a good four seconds, gnashing his teeth in anticipation of his answer.

“We are currently drafting plans for how they will be processed and treated, with the appropriate government organs collaborating with every nations’ diplomatic missions in a coordinated effort. As for the question of foreign military forces, with regards to the US, we are affirming our strong ties, bound by the terms of the security alliance, in maintaining mutual security. Now–”

“What the hell?”

It was a safe answer, but it contained hints of what they hoped to expect from the American side. For them to uphold their end of the mutual defense agreement, the US would definitely have to keep its forces afloat and maintained. However, without material, financial, and manpower support from the rest of the United States, they’d end up with no military. Woods assumed that the Japanese understood the USFJ’s dilemma, and he knew that the prime minister would not have said that without an idea as to how to proceed.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, he turned to his right, where another man stood with his back leaning on the wooden cubicle. His sharp features and blonde hair added class to his appearance as he looked down on the floor, deep in thought. The man was Daniel, a CIA intelligence officer based in the embassy, and likely a useful asset for the foggy road ahead.

“What do you make of that answer, Danny?”

Calling him by his nickname did not faze the man, but the question provoked a long “hmmm.”

“Honestly speaking, Mr. Ambassador, we could take it at face value. The problem lies in how we uphold the mutual defense tr–”

“Yes, that much is certain.”

“As of this point, every decision lies on what’s left of the chain of command, which isn’t much to go with, but we could remedy that. The Japanese understand the threat our forces pose this early, but our advantage wanes as time goes on. They know this, so when they come to us with a deal, it would have to be very agreeable. To be frank, Mr. Ambassador, given our circumstances, our best option lies with pushing the Japanese for the most agreeable terms while brandishing our other, more disagreeable, options.”

Experienced in the art of getting hard-to-get information from disagreeable people, Danny offered what he thought was his best advice. While Woods was already aware of this, he found it comforting to hear someone else’s advice conform with his thoughts.

As Woods brooded over what a possible deal may look like, a familiar presence stepped into his field of vision. Then, the comforting sound of a friendly voice.

“Mr. Ambassador.”

The woman’s still unkempt hair stood at various ends, her eyes were still bagged and sleepy. It was his secretary, Colette.

“The Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs is on the phone.”

Here we go, thought Woods, as he once more dismissed his secretary to go fix her appearance. Turning back to head for his office, he mentally shut off the sounds coming from the flat screen to steel himself for the coming talks.

50km south of Tokyo Bay, that same time

In this part of Japan, the scenery still contained every semblance of tranquility. The bright sun shone above in the great blue sky, overlooking the seemingly endless expanse of ocean. From time to time, the sun’s luminosity would dip, owing to the occasional cloud cover that disrupted its endless barrage of sunlight. With the incessant sloshing of waves playing in the background, the constant rumbling of guzzling engines permeated in the foreground. Among the waves of vessels, big and small, that were traveling northwards into Tokyo Bay, a single white ship cut through the ocean at speed southwards, her sides emblazoned with the Latin characters “Japan Coast Guard”, while scribbled over her bow was its name in hiragana, “Akitsushima”.

On the hunt, the Coast Guard patrol vessel had set her sights on its target: bright flare that was dropping from the sky, its mini-star-like appearance magnificently sparkling even in the brightest time of the day. Onboard the bridge, her crew kept an alert, unwavering eye on the direction from where the flare came from, already used to the new horizon that was further out. Within moments of the flare popping out, the crew had spotted its source.

“There! That trawler is violently rocking back and forth!”

From among the array of cargo ships, ferries, and other civilian vessels, a single blue fishing trawler stood out, its modest-sized hull rocking violently in an unnatural fashion.

Sometime earlier, the prime minister had declared a nationwide state of emergency after spilling the beans that they had been transported into a new world. Along with that declaration was the immediate implementation of a “no one in, no one out” border enforcement policy, upon which the Coast Guard was mobilized to help facilitate. One of these patrol vessels, the Akitsushima, was assisting in the effort of getting civilian vessels to enter Tokyo Bay when they received a distress message from a ship, saying that it was “under attack by something.”

As the Akitsushima neared the trawler, the “assailant” made itself known.

“What the–?!”

To the left of the rocking trawler, massive, red tentacles erupted from underneath the surface of the ocean, assailing the immobilized vessel and damaging its vulnerable, superficial parts. In concert with the gigantic tentacles cementing their grip on the vessel, they contracted, forcing the heavy, several dozen-ton vessel to be displaced and collide with what looks like an enormous, red body of a cephalopod. Due to the violent rockings experienced by the trawler, the fishing nets strapped onto outriggers, brimming with fresh catch, were tossed overboard and back into the ocean. The crew of the Akitsushima was temporarily dumbfounded by what they were seeing.

“That was a huge giant squid!”

“It looked like it was at least 20 meters! Holy shit!”

“And it was also attacking a ship! Fuck!”

With the fish-filled nets having fallen into the ocean, the colossal cephalopod’s tentacles detached themselves from the vessel, diverting their suckers onto the mess of wire and rope that encapsulated the trawler’s catch. Not long after, the tentacles disappeared back into the waves, along with much of the newly caught fish and nets. The entire event played out so fast that Akitsushima and her crew could never have reacted quickly enough to do anything meaningful.

As the trawler limped motionlessly, the Akitsushima drew close, and her crew blared out a message via megaphone.

“Is anyone still on board?! We will be sending over personnel to ascertain your situation and provide medical attention!”

Ascertaining that the giant cephalopod had long left the scene, the captain of the Akitsushima gave the order to proceed. On both sides of the patrol vessel, smaller boats manned by Coast Guard personnel were lowered onto the ocean surface. The crew on the bridge watched as several fishermen emerged onto the deck of the blue trawler, visibly fazed by the unprecedented attack. While their medical personnel, who had already reached the beleaguered vessel, started evacuating the fishermen, the crew continued to examine the fishing trawler, scanning the damages on its battered hull.

“Wow... There are a lot of dents and holes. We’re probably looking at some breaches below the waterline. What the hell was that thing?”

The motionless trawler was now listing; the damage it sustained became more apparent as more of the hull below the waterline came into view.

“Wildlife that can threaten and damage ships? We have to know whether or not this was unprovoked, but either way, we have to notify our superiors as soon as possible!”

Stricken with anxious uncertainty that any of the countless ships returning to Japanese ports all across the country could be subject to similar attacks, the crew of the Akitsushima hurried to report the incident.

Central Calendar 19/04/1639, The Sanctuary, Principality of Qua-Toyne, 9:00

In the heart of the territory of the principality was the capital, and at the city’s heart was a thick grove of trees. Inside this dense pocket of old-growth trees dating to the age of mythology was a secluded place known as the Sanctuary, the place where countless High Councils of various members have met under the somber rays of light filtering from the heavily-leafed canopy above. At the Sanctuary’s heart was an old stone table, said to be radiating with mana leaking from deep within the planet, surrounded by imposing stone seats. There was an aura of mystery and fantasy whenever one finds themself inside this ominously-named place, but on this particular day, the only thing that permeated the atmosphere other than the heat was a concern.

The various elven faces of the current High Council populate the circumference of the stone table, their expressions one and the same: perplexion. Out of all the ones present, High Council Presider Kanata was the one most feeling the pressure. Scratching his well-trimmed hair with clear frustration, he wondered how to best report it to his superior, the highest authority in the land.

“Ugh...”

His groaning fell on deaf ears, the others content with keeping their concerns to themselves. Unable to contain his agitation, Kanata tried restarting the discussion to get inputs from his fellow councilmen.

“So let’s start from the beginning. An unidentified, non-living, flying object intruded our airspace, outrunning our wyverns, and then threatened one of our major cities.”

The other councilmen nodded in silence.

“Without any identifiers or warnings, besides the red circles on its body and wings... Who the hell are we dealing with here? Parpaldia? The Lourians?”

One of the councilmen broke the silence, letting out a heavy sigh, before turning to face Kanata with a pained expression.

“It is indeed a perplexing incident, and neither the Parpaldians, the Lourians, the Altarans, or even the Gaharans claim responsibility. They all seem eager to blame the Muish or the Imperials, but there’s no way we could ever check.”

“It is unfortunate nevertheless... I’ve heard that both nations possess unnatural flying beasts, but they’d have nothing to gain in a backwater country like ours.”

The councilmen lamented the geopolitical hierarchy, a discriminatory system in which the principality finds itself to be at the bottom. Despite being the regional breadbasket, there was little they could do to move up the hierarchical ladder. With the establishment of the three regions of the civilized world, Qua-Toyne was relegated to the periphery, much like the other minor players. As such, it was odd for the two dominant powers, Mu and the Holy Mirishial Empire, the crowns of their respective civilized regions, to try and send their nonliving flying objects to a nation like theirs. Both nations have sent expeditions to them, and their southern neighbor and fellow peripheral power, the kingdom of Quila, but they were polite enough to request beforehand.

“Dammit, I’m o–”

Just as Kanata was losing his cool, the loud sounds of heavy heels on dry stone superimposed over his whimper. The imposing presence the sounds invoked were preceded by the heightened anxieties of the councilmen as their thoughts screamed, “She’s here!” Off to one direction, a modest figure clad in an angelic, white veil and dress walked towards them. Her enticing curves and provocative angles were but a mere facade to the ruthlessness that lingered behind it. She was no angel, for her elongated ears signified her mortality as a member of the elven race. She descended on the Sanctuary, yet her welcome could not be any less heavenly.

“Your Majesty!!!”

The councilmen all stood up and faced the woman’s direction before willingly prostrating themselves before her bewitching figure.

She was Princess Llanfair Gwergin, sovereign of the principality of Qua-Toyne.

Like a goddess towering over her subjects, she looked down on them with an unyielding, unimpressed look. Her eyes sparkled in emerald green as they moved towards the direction of the one the councilmen lying prostrate on the ground. Then, with a voice that sends shivers of arousal and intimidation down their spines...

“Kanata.”

Hearing the three syllables that make up his name articulated clearly, Kanata promptly stood up.

“Yes, Your Majesty???”

“Who violated our airspace?”

Initially fazed by this simple question, Kanata was then about to reply, but then he realized he didn’t know the answer. However, he could not get the best of his honest heart, so he painfully and hesitatingly brought himself to say it straight to Llanfair’s face.

“W-We don’t know!”

Llanfair walked towards him, her steely stares constantly keeping Kanata on edge. Standing in front of him, she maintained her imposing stature, although her tone had loosened.

“Hm. I was expecting a different answer.”

Kanata closed his eyes in anticipation of punishment. Then, a clap. After feeling no painful sensation in any part of his person, he reopened his eyes. Before him, the princess was now joined by an aide who carried a shiny yet visibly aged wooden box. Llanfair undid the metallic lock and opened the lid, producing an unfamiliar banner from it.

As she hung it high with her hands for all to see, the stained banner fluttered lightly in the near still air, its aged, stained parts glowing in the light. At its center was a vibrant red disc, glowing ominously bright in the sunlight that filtered from above with its seemingly ancient dyes still intact. The councilmen were mesmerized by its stunning appearance, which resembled a long-forgotten caricature of the sun that shines above.

“An unnatural, artificial flying object is making a buzzing noise, brandishing the ancient symbol of a blood-red disc on its body and wings. Does that not remind you of the legends?”

The councilmen knew immediately what Llanfair was hinting at. While they struggled to make sense of such an outlandish tale of old applying to their contemporary age, it was an explanation that seemed to fit nonetheless. Whether or not the legendary emissaries have returned, they all had a gut feeling that this was the precursor to something big.