Chapter 1

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Chapter 1: Stars Beyond the Glass

The last thing Alex remembered was the deafening silence, as still as a void , quite as it can be , no matter what he do he can't escape from it .

The thing is he can't even move , but he can under stand one thing clear , that is everything is blurring, right infront of his eyes, and he can't do anything about it

No alarms. No final words. Just the cold weightlessness of the emergency pod failing to ignite, the hull cracking like glass around him, and then—

Darkness.

Then heat.

Then light.

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When he opened his eyes again, the world smelled of antiseptic and ozone. Not the metallic bite of war-torn ships, but the artificial cleanliness of a high-grade medical ward. A soft chime rang somewhere near his ear, and a blue light scanned over his vision.

> [Patient: Julien Deton]

[Age: 17]

[Medical Status: STABILIZED]

[Neural Sync: 98.4% — Integration Acceptable]

[Memory Sync Initiated...]

Alex sat up with a gasp, lungs aching, chest heaving.

No, not Alex.

Julien.

His hands were smaller. His body leaner. His hair brushed over his forehead, longer than he ever kept it. And when he caught his reflection in the mirrored glass of the medical panel ,he was shocked to see —it was a stranger’s face staring back.

Soft-featured. Wide-eyed. Too young.

He don't know what else but it's for sore...

He'd transmigrated.

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> "Julien Deton, you’ve been cleared for release. Your belongings are waiting in Bay 3. Your guardian pension has been transferred. Please report to the Capital Card maker Institute within 72 hours."

The voice was automated, clinical. But it struck deep. Because Julien remembered—he remembered—the desperate dream this boy clung to.

Card maker.

In this empire, where mechas ruled war and blood bought status, there existed a rare few who could weave arcana into physical form—cards imbued with power, used to summon, shield, attack, or enhance. Those who succeeded became nobles, or power brokers. Or, if they were lucky...

Owned by a Marshal.

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And that was how Julien—once Alex—found himself standing in front of the Imperial Capital, clutching a worn bag with barely enough credits to afford a protein bar, staring up at the sprawling city like it might swallow him whole.

What he didn’t know—what no one had told him—was that just one sector away, a war-battered man stood drenched in blood in a training hangar, breathing hard in the shattered cockpit of a crimson mecha, grinning like a wolf.

Marshal Veldaric Hill.

The Mad Dog of the Empire. The one they said couldn't be controlled.

He was reviewing combat footage, bored. Until the screen flickered—and a civilian profile popped up. A fluke. A flicker. A registration anomaly, maybe.

But it caught his attention.

A young boy, barely grown, with a blank medical record and high arcana sensitivity. Transferred into the capital with no support, no backing, no allies. Just a dream.

Julien Deton.

Veldaric smiled, slow and sharp.

“Found you.”

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To be continued...

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