[The Tenets of the Containment System of Myriad Realms are: Control, Contain, Protect.]
[The dimensional walls of this world have weakened. Anomalies will soon arrive in waves.]
[As the system's binder, your duty is to contain these abnormalities and protect human understanding.]
[Each successful containment grants lottery draws. The rarer the anomaly, the better the rewards.]
[Use the rewards to evolve and secure even more dangerous anomalies.]
[Fear cannot dominate humanity. You are their final hope.]
[We control, we contain, we protect.]
Zane Cartel stared at the glowing panel in front of him, still processing the robotic voice echoing in his mind. The message repeated in mechanical calm, as if casually informing him of a doomsday assignment.
His ordinary life had just come to a sudden, screeching halt.
No more peaceful school days. No more pretending he was in a relaxed anime world.
Instead, he had been chosen by some interdimensional containment system—a job that sounded way above his pay grade.
He glanced up.
Across from him stood Annie Leonhart, the girl he had just saved—though barely.
A literal anomaly. A Titan shifter.
She was calm on the outside but clearly wary, her sharp eyes darting around at the buildings surrounding them. The towering skyscrapers and clean streets were unlike anything she knew. This wasn't Paradis Island. And it definitely wasn't Marley.
Annie's expression remained blank, but Zane could see the gears turning in her mind.
She finally spoke, her voice cold and cautious. "Where is this? Who are you? And how do you know my name?"
Zane didn't answer her directly. Instead, he turned toward the path leading out of the park.
"You made a big scene landing like that," he said calmly. "That lightning strike probably drew attention. If we stay here, someone's bound to show up."
He began walking. "Come to my place first. It's nearby. We can talk there."
He didn't wait for a response.
The golden lightning bolt, the shockwave, and Annie's sudden fall—there was no way people hadn't noticed. If the police or local security came asking questions, things could get messy—especially since Annie had no identity documents and looked like she walked out of a sci-fi war zone.
Behind him, he heard nothing for a second. Then—quiet footsteps.
She followed.
Good. That's one step forward.
To someone like Annie—trained for war, raised in paranoia—following a stranger into unknown territory wasn't easy.
But she knew something he did not: in this unfamiliar world, Zane was her only link to understanding anything.
As they walked through the neighborhood, Zane casually pulled out his phone to order some supplies online. He needed clothes for Annie—and fast.
But she noticed.
Her sharp voice cut the silence. "What's that in your hand?"
Zane calmly exited the shopping app and turned toward her, handing over the phone.
"This? It's called a smartphone. Think of it as a super-upgraded version of a telephone."
Annie took it instantly, studying it like it was a bomb.
"Are you calling your allies?"
Zane blinked. "Allies? No, I'm buying you clothes."
Annie didn't believe him, not entirely. Her world was stuck at early 20th-century tech. Radios and telegraphs were luxury items. A glowing device with a touchscreen might as well be magic.
Zane chuckled. "Phones can do way more than just call people. They're like mini-computers. You'll need one to learn about this place."
She didn't say anything. But she didn't hand the phone back either.
They kept walking—past traffic lights, LED billboards, and cafés filled with chatting strangers.
Zane explained things as they walked.
"That's a traffic light. Green means go, red means stop. You've seen cars, right?"
Annie nodded faintly.
"That's a digital display—like a magic painting, if you want to call it that. It plays videos."
"Don't worry about the guy staring at you. He's just confused by the gear on your waist. He's not a threat."
Zane's voice was calm, instructional. He kept things light, but direct. It helped distract Annie from the sheer flood of unfamiliarity.
Eventually, they arrived at his apartment.
It was modest but modern—a single-bedroom unit in a quiet complex. Not much, but it was his.
Zane took out his key and opened the door.
Annie, however, stopped at the entrance. She didn't move.
Like a cautious cat, she eyed the hallway with suspicion.
Zane sighed.
"There's no one inside. No traps. But if you want to know more about this world, you'll have to trust me—even just a little."
Annie stared him down for several long seconds. Then she said:
"You go in first."
He did. She followed.
Step by step, trust was being built—fragile, but real.
Inside, Zane dropped his bag and gestured to the table. "Sit. Let's talk."
Annie didn't like being ordered, but she obeyed, arms folded tightly. Her blue eyes locked on his face.
"So? Where are we?"
Zane walked over to the counter, poured himself some water, and drank.
Then he finally answered.
"This world is called Blue Star. You're in the Land of Sakura, what you might call a nation-state. There are no Titans here. No Marley. No Paradis Island. This isn't your world."
Annie froze.
That sentence hit harder than she expected.
It sounded crazy—impossible—but the towering buildings, clean roads, quiet civilians… everything told her it was true.
This was not her home.
The reality crashed down on her shoulders.
She had no idea how she got here.
She was alone.
"I... see," she murmured, her voice barely audible.
But then her eyes narrowed.
"If this is a different world—why do you know who I am? You said my name before. You recognized me right away."
Zane smiled faintly, his expression unreadable.
"Maybe it's fate."
Annie didn't buy that for a second.
He stood and walked to a small side room. Annie stood instantly, tense again, hand near her ring.
But he returned quickly.
In his hands was a thick stack of printed papers—character profiles, background lore, and timelines.
Annie's eyes scanned the titles.
Her own face stared back at her.
"That's a fan guide," Zane said softly. "You're famous here—in fiction. Your entire life story, your Titan form, your past… it's all written down."
Her expression shattered into confusion.
"How is that possible?"
Zane shrugged. "This world is different. Sometimes, fiction in one world is reality in another."
He sat back down. "Your existence here might be the result of the dimensional walls weakening. I'm still figuring that out myself."
Annie stared at the documents, then at him.
"…You really aren't just a random boy, are you?"
Zane smirked.
"No. I'm the system's chosen candidate. The one who's supposed to contain anomalies from other worlds—and protect this one from losing its sanity."
He opened his palm, showing her the floating blue panel that only he could see.
"This thing chose me. You? You're the first anomaly. The first proof that this world is no longer stable."
Silence stretched between them.
Then, Zane added gently, "But I don't see you as a threat, Annie. I want to help."
She didn't reply. Not yet.
She simply lowered her gaze to the table and quietly asked:
"…What do I do now?"
Zane leaned forward.
"You start by surviving. Learning. Blending in."
He slid over the phone again.
"Learn how this world works. I'll teach you. In return, you help me understand what's coming."
And for the first time, Annie Leonhart nodded.