"I suppose I should introduce myself."
He took an elegant bow, dipping his head low.
"My name is Reinhard van Astrea, successor to the title of Sword Saint and a knight of the Dragon Kingdom of Lugunica."
Hearing the unfamiliar introduction, Coulson tilted his head thoughtfully. He mentally sorted the young man into the category of medieval knight. Judging from Reinhard's speech and chivalrous bearing, Coulson suspected the young man knew little of the modern world.
Reinhard lifted his head and rested a hand on his chin, lost in thought.
"As for what I am… I do not know what races exist in this world. If there are giants, oni, elves, demi-humans, or beast-humans. But I am human, descended from a long lineage of master swordsmen."
At that, everyone listening mentally noted the same thing.
If he listed those races so casually…
Then they were probably real where he came from.
Reinhard then lowered his gaze toward the sword at his hip.
Most of the operatives, along with Clint and Coulson, followed his eyes to the beautifully sheathed ivory blade.
"As for what I want…" his voice softened. "I assume that question refers to the reason behind my arrival. In truth, I do not know how or why I came here. My mind seems to be somewhat jumbled at the moment…"
His words trailed off.
If his most recent memories were correct, he had been sent here as part of some twisted entertainment created by a triangular demon.
Yet none of the prisoners seemed to have arrived the same way he had. He remembered falling from the sky and landing nearby, but no one else had mentioned such an entrance.
That implication filled him with quiet unease.
He had no intention of explaining such a bizarre story. Not yet. Until he understood where he was and what kind of people stood before him, revealing the truth would only invite misunderstanding.
Setting those concerns aside for the moment, Reinhard focused on the man in front of him.
Trying to sound as sincere as possible, he continued.
"But if I had to answer…"
He paused.
"I want what any person wants."
A gentle smile spread across his face.
"I would like to build connections and find happiness, however difficult it may be."
Reinhard's expression carried a childlike sincerity as he grinned in the sunlight, his white teeth gleaming.
Natasha had to cover her mouth with her hand.
Her lips curved despite herself.
She couldn't help it.
His purity was… strangely cute.
Coulson blinked.
A subtle shimmer appeared in his eyes, and he discreetly wiped away the tear that had begun to form.
Unfortunately for him, Clint Barton had eyesight far too good to miss something like that.
Clint had already noticed something else as well.
When answering the first two questions, Reinhard's facial muscles had stiffened ever so slightly. The hesitation was tiny, almost imperceptible.
But it was caught.
That alone was enough to make Clint suspicious.
Unfortunately, his attention was immediately derailed.
Because the famously composed Agent Coulson was currently tearing up over a statement about happiness.
"…Are you really crying?" Clint asked flatly.
Several operatives nearby relaxed slightly at the sudden shift in mood.
"There's a lot of sand out here," Coulson muttered defensively, turning his face away from Clint.
Which was pointless.
Clint could see him perfectly from that distance.
Seeing the archers skeptical gaze still fixated on the side of his head he turned to face him red faced.
"We are on a beach!"
Coulson cleared his throat and straightened his tie before turning back toward Reinhard.
"I'm Agent Phil Coulson with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, Logistics, and Defense Division."
Reinhard maintained a polite smile, though his expression clearly showed he was struggling to process the absurdly long title.
Coulson noticed immediately.
"I've been told it's quite a mouthful," he added quickly. "You can just call it S.H.I.E.L.D."
His mouth curled into a knowing smile.
"S.H.I.E.L.D's primary purpose is protecting Earth from superhuman threats. That includes technological threats, supernatural threats, extraterrestrial threats, and terrorism. In short we monitor… unusual activity. Especially threats that come from above." He pointed a finger skyward."
Reinhard listened attentively, nodding politely.
Coulson couldn't help feeling oddly refreshed.
Most of the recent people he dealt with were Asgardians with short attention spans, narcissistic billionaires, or walking disasters in human form.
Compared to that…
This respectful young knight was almost therapeutic.
Still, something about Reinhard bothered him.
Despite standing in an unknown environment, surrounded by armed agents and a small army of operatives…
The young man didn't look nervous.
Or guarded.
He looked completely calm.
"Umm…" Coulson said. "I can just call you Mr. Astrea, right?"
"I don't need the 'Mister,'" Reinhard replied politely. "You don't have to be so formal, Phil."
"Well, we're getting close pretty fast, huh?" Coulson said dryly.
He continued.
"So just to clarify. You don't know how you arrived here… and you're from a what? Dragon City?"
"That is correct. I come from the Dragon Kingdom," Reinhard said patiently. "One of the four great kingdoms."
He spoke calmly, as if giving a lecture.
"Lugunica is a monarchy with a population of over fifty million people. The majority are demi-humans. My kingdom was founded by the Divine Dragon Volcanica, who made a covenant with the first king to protect the country."
"A monarchy, huh?" Coulson said. "Well, here we have democracy."
He gave Reinhard a careful look.
"How old are you?"
Reinhard answered without hesitation.
"I have recently turned nineteen."
Coulson coughed.
Clint and Natasha, however, didn't look surprised.
"You're just a teenager?" Coulson said. "Not some thousand-year-old King Arthur type?"
Reinhard blinked, clearly confused.
"…Yes."
"As I stated before, my race is human," he said calmly. "I am not a long-lived Great Spirit, despite possessing a rather dense quantity of mana."
He paused, then tilted his head slightly.
"May I ask a question?"
Behind the operatives, Natasha Romanoff stood with her arms crossed, narrowing her eyes slightly.
Mana.
Great Spirit.
The words sounded like something from a fantasy novel.
Definitely not reality.
'Is he really an alien?'
Her train of thought was interrupted by the vibration of her phone in her back pocket.
She pulled it out.
Incoming call: Director Fury.
She lifted it to her ear.
Immediately, the familiar gravelly voice came through the speaker.
"Report, Agent."
Natasha stepped a few paces away from the group, turning slightly so the wind off the water wouldn't carry her voice.
"Yes, Director. Sheepshead Bay is secured. Local law enforcement has the perimeter while our teams are handling the crash site."
A pause.
"Any civilian casualties?"
"Negative so far," Natasha replied. "But visibility control is still ongoing. We've got civilians filming from outside the barricades. Social media posts are already starting to circulate."
Another pause as Fury processed that.
"And the individual?"
Natasha glanced over her shoulder toward the tall red-haired knight standing calmly among armed agents.
"He's cooperative," she said. "Claims to be a knight from something called the Dragon Kingdom of Lugunica. No signs of aggression so far, but he's… unusual."
"How unusual?"
Natasha watched him for another moment.
"He's either the best actor I've ever seen," she said quietly, "or he genuinely fell out of a fantasy novel."
Fury grunted on the other end.
"Keep him contained. I want him in a controlled environment before the press turns this into another New Mexico incident."
"Understood."
Natasha ended the call and slipped the phone back into her pocket.
While she stepped away, Coulson remained with Reinhard, looking practically delighted.
The man looked like a kid at Comic-Con meeting a real superhero.
"Yes, go ahead," Coulson said with a grin. "Ask your question."
Reinhard tilted his head slightly.
"Why do you use such weak projectiles when the mana here is so dense?" he asked. "Wouldn't magic be a far more effective weapon?"
Coulson blinked.
"Magic?"
He gave a small laugh.
"We don't have that here."
The thought fascinated him, though.
Seeing Reinhard's weapon resting at his waist, Coulson had instinctively categorized him as a traditional swordsman. Primitive, maybe, by modern military standards.
But magic?
That was something else entirely.
The childhood dream humanity never quite managed to make real.
Reinhard's brow furrowed.
"That cannot be correct," he said slowly. "The air here is saturated with mana. Surely there must be someone capable of using it."
Coulson's eyes lit up.
"Uh… no," he admitted. "We don't."
His tone carried equal parts disappointment and excitement, as if Reinhard had just informed him that humanity had been sitting on magical potential this entire time without realizing it.
Reinhard fell into thought.
Could it be that the people of this world simply don't know how to activate their mana?
Or are their Gates sealed entirely?
But if their Gates were sealed…
Wouldn't their Od stagnate?
Wouldn't that eventually kill them?
The logic didn't add up.
Coulson leaned forward slightly.
"So you're saying it should be possible to use magic on Earth?"
Reinhard blinked.
"Earth… is that the name of this world?"
"The planet," Coulson clarified. "Same difference."
"Ah."
Reinhard considered the question carefully.
"As far as I am aware, it should be possible. The mana density here is sufficient. However, I would need to examine the structure of your Gates and compare them to those of the people in Lugunica."
Coulson didn't even hesitate.
"Would you be able to teach me magic?"
He asked the question with complete sincerity.
Reinhard hesitated.
He had always struggled to refuse earnest requests.
Unfortunately, his own constitution made things… complicated.
His body had traded magical aptitude for overwhelming physical power. Magic had never been something he could properly learn.
Still…
If mana functioned here the same way it did in his world…
He could at least teach the basics of physical reinforcement.
"…Perhaps," Reinhard said.
From behind them, Clint finally spoke up, sounding thoroughly unimpressed.
"Enough chatting."
Clint Barton gestured toward the growing crowd beyond the barricades.
"Too many phones."
Dozens of civilians were filming from behind the police line.
"Right," Coulson said quickly.
He turned back to Reinhard with a polite smile.
"It's a pleasure meeting you, Reinhard. If you cooperate with us, we might be able to help you return to…"
He paused, trying to remember.
"…Lugunica, right?"
Reinhard stood silently.
Conflicted.
Lugunica had always been his home.
But what did that really mean?
A mansion he rarely visited.
A country that feared him.
A government that treated him like a weapon.
He was called a hero.
Yet treated like a monster.
No family.
No lord to serve.
No true friends.
No place to belong.
Rein's life hadn't been much better.
No home.
No dreams.
No purpose.
Just an irritating roommate named Sato and a string of days that blurred together.
But here…
Maybe here was a chance to start over.
The thought lasted exactly three seconds.
A faint prickling sensation ran along the back of Reinhard's neck.
His eyes sharpened instantly.
The atmosphere around him shifted.
His Gate responded instinctively to the shift in his emotions, drawing in the ambient mana around him directly into his gate.
To the civilians gathered behind the metal and plastic barricades, the temperature suddenly plummeted.
It felt as if the warmth of the environment itself was being drained away.
Cold.
Heavy.
Oppressive.
Reinhard's expression hardened.
Without a word, he tilted his head slightly.
His gaze locked onto a building hundreds of yards away.
Inside a distant window, a figure crouched low in black tactical gear.
Feminine with a well padded upper body.
Perfectly still.
Almost perfectly hidden.
Almost.
If not for Reinhard's superior senses, on par with a superior spirit, he would be completely oblivious to the danger.
While Reinhard had always been sensitive to killing intent, what caught his attention initially wasn't the scope's shine or the killing intent. No, what first alerted him to her position was the sound.
The sound of crackling sparks in a circular formation around her body, one meter in diameter.
From her arm, something unnatural extended outward.
At first glance, it resembled a rifle.
But the longer one looked, the more unsettling it became.
The weapon wasn't being held.
It was growing out of the woman's elbow.
The surface looked wrong for metal. Too smooth in some places. Too fibrous in others.
Like a muscle stretched and hardened into the shape of a firearm.
The elongated barrel slowly adjusted its angle.
The motion was smooth and biological.
As if the weapon were part of her body.
Her body leaned forward to look through the rifle's sight, revealing the strands of long, dark-blue hair tied behind her head.
The tinted scope caught the sunlight for half a second.
Reinhard didn't move.
But his presence changed.
The cheerful knight vanished.
In his place stood something far more dangerous.
An overwhelming, tyrannical pressure radiated from his body.
Raw and crushing.
Like standing in the path of a natural disaster.
Every S.H.I.E.L.D. operative tensed.
Some instinctively raised their weapons.
Prey reacting to a predator.
Coulson, who had been standing barely fifteen feet away, slowly took several careful steps back.
Clint Barton was already sweating; his bow was drawn.
A trick arrow rested on the string, the grated arrowhead gleaming in the sunlight, aimed directly at Reinhard's temple.
And yet…
None of it mattered.
Reinhard spoke, his eyes never leaving the distant sniper.
His voice was quiet.
And utterly chilling.
"Tell your subordinate to lower their killing intent…"
A brief pause.
"…or I will respond in kind."
His words sent a chill down every spine.
Then Reinhard saw it.
A single white line.
Faint but unmistakable, cutting through the air in a perfect trajectory.
Aimed directly at his head.
The Sword God's vector.
A path revealed by his Divine Protection of the Sword Saint.
No hesitation, In one fluid motion, his hand moved to the sword at his waist.
Reid remained sheathed.
With a casual flick, Reinhard swung the blade.
He didn't need to see the projectile to intercept it as his Divine Protection of the Sword Saint marked its trajectory perfectly.
CLANG!
A sharp gunshot cracked across the shoreline. A moment later, delayed as the speed of sound was immensely slower than the projectile.
The bullet streaking toward Reinhard struck the sheath precisely mid-swing.
It exploded into a shower of sparks and shattered fragments.
The resulting shockwave scattered sand and rifles alike. Three operatives lost their weapons as the sandblast combined with the sonic boom knocked them flat.
He had easily broken the sound barrier.
To onlookers, it seemed like he had his sword appear in his hand. Followed by a sound and sparks.
But to those with insight, the truth was staggering.
He had intercepted a high-velocity, armor-piercing sniper round, over 1,200 meters per second.
With a sheathed great sword.
From his hip to his face.
In a perfect arc.
Not a scratch. Not a tremor.
No visible strain.
Clint's eyes widened in comprehension.
He, the Hawkeye, who prided himself on his eyesight and perception, struggled to see Reinhard's movement.
(A/N: A long time ago, I created this fic as a sort of death battle between characters, but after going back to pick it up and edit it, I decided to flesh it out a bit. I'll give it a decent storyline, although I have little experience writing filler slice-of-life.)
I'm stuck on who I should make his future love interest. I was originally thinking Hella, but if I get enough requests for Wanda, I might change it. I'll create a poll later.
I now have a Patreon set up, but it isn't up to date yet. Ahead of chapters, I'll fix that shortly. Feel free to explore it at the link below.
https://patreon.com/CataclysmicCat7?utm_medium=unknown&utm_source=join_link&utm_campaign=creatorshare_creator&utm_content=copyLink