Athena's General Reincarnated in Another World

Nathan Evenhart:

"A portal?" someone muttered in disbelief, finally breaking the tense silence in the room. "A portal that leads to other worlds?"

"Yes," Queen Garnora continued, her tone calm—yet razor-sharp. "This portal is connected to the world known as the Dark Realm. That's how they accessed the academy. It had been dormant for millennia... hidden within the tower. But someone reactivated it, allowing them entry."

She paused, scanning the room—studying the mix of confusion and dread written on the nobles' faces.

"This is ancient technology, left behind by the civilizations that came before us. It's called the Rainbow Bridge."

The murmurs returned, louder this time. Some nobles flipped back through the documents, disbelief on their faces.

"I—it's been shut down again, right? The portal's closed?" a voice asked, trembling with unease.

"Of course!" King Charles answered, voice firm and commanding. "Each of the three great dungeons across the continent contains a portal like this. We never imagined they could be reactivated. But as of now, all three have been sealed by royal decree. No one will be allowed inside. We cannot afford to let this happen again."

For a moment, silence reigned. The weight of those words settled over the room like a heavy fog.

Then Queen Garnora spoke again, her voice quiet—but no less commanding.

"The three of us," she said, nodding toward the other monarchs, "possess advanced knowledge of teleportation technologies. This incident was... unexpected, yes. But not beyond understanding."

Teleportation?

Just hearing the word made my mind reel.

"You possess a teleportation device?" asked Duke Valemont, his voice caught somewhere between awe and fear.

The queen nodded.

Unshaken. Controlled.

"Yes, but this technology—while powerful—is ancient and extremely limited," Queen Garnora continued, her voice calm but commanding.

"There are a handful of ancient portals scattered across the continent, known only to us. Travel through teleportation is restricted, and has been kept a closely guarded secret since the era of the Founding Emperor. He mapped them all. They're few in number—and I, myself, have only used one in my lifetime... to access a Sanctuary. A place of refuge."

She lifted the photo in her hand, waving it gently to draw attention.

"This device found in the dungeon is unlike the others. It connects entire worlds. The ones we know of only lead to one specific place—and from there, other points can be reached. Think of it like a tree: you can access parts of it through holes in the trunk. These trees are connected by specific locations across the land," she explained with deliberate patience.

She paused again.

"But how do we know they went back to their own world?" a nobleman asked, his voice laced with doubt. "What if they went elsewhere—into one of our own kingdoms?"

The queen's gaze shifted toward him, then swept over the room. Clearly, many shared the same concern.

"All we can say is this: the only teleportation network within our world is the one under our control," she said firmly. "However, the inter-world network works differently. From what we know, they're able to emulate what we call an 'anomaly'—a rare and risky process that requires these dungeon portals. That's why we've issued orders to seal them and placed guards to prevent anyone from approaching."

She returned to her seat.

Then, King Haiten rose.

"One of the divine beings made contact with us," he said plainly.

Gasps and murmurs filled the room. Some widened their eyes in disbelief, others turned to whisper urgently to one another.

"A... a real deity? You mean a god made of flesh and blood? Not just some natural force?" someone asked, stunned.

"Exactly," replied King Haiten. "A being of flesh and blood."

Even my aunt and Chloe looked visibly shaken.

"This deity is... one of the original beings responsible for shaping our world," he continued.

"Do they bring rain?" someone asked, voice filled with almost childlike curiosity. "Are they the ones people pray to for a good harvest?"

The king hesitated, clearly unsure. "I... don't think they control the rain, no. I think the rain just happens. Though I suppose they could, if they wanted."

Queen Garnora stepped in, her expression unreadable but edged with annoyance.

"Do you pray to a water mage when it rains?" she asked. "Or to an elf who uses magic to grow crops?"

"No…" came a timid reply.

"Then why would you pray to these beings?" she asked flatly.

"I just... wanted to understand," the man muttered. "I mean, I pray to the spirit of rain for my harvest, to fortune for my wealth, and to love for my family..."

I sighed quietly to myself.

This... is going to be hard to explain.

Trying to describe a divine being to people who pray to concepts felt almost surreal.

But maybe it wasn't so different from my previous world. People there had worshiped fire, storms, oceans... sometimes more out of fear or need than faith. Maybe these people had done the same—over generations—after the divine withdrew from the world. Their stories had simply turned into tradition.

Queen Garnora let out a slow sigh, breaking my train of thought.

"It wasn't the 'rain' that contacted us. Just listen," Queen Garnora said, visibly irritated. "A deity. A true divine being from a world far above our own. An immortal entity, from a society vastly more advanced in magic. One of the Ancients."

The room fell into stunned silence as the weight of her words finally began to sink in.

"All we can tell you is this—there is an agreement," King Haiten said, his voice deep and steady. "This divine being explained it to us. The demons can no longer come to our world. Once we discovered their presence, their breaches were sealed. Even before that, their movements were already restricted. So rest assured—for now, they are not our immediate threat. The problem lies... elsewhere."

He paused. Behind him, a glowing projection darkened and shifted—an image of a rift, a pulsing anomaly crackling with arcane energy.

"The portal at the border is growing in size," he continued. "And that's not the only issue. Smaller rifts are beginning to form along the edge of our continent. We predict that soon, we'll see more of these smaller portals opening up all across the frontier."

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Gasps rippled through the hall. Several nobles raised their hands to speak, but King Bartholomew was the next to rise.

"We're already taking action," he said with firm authority. "The academy's curriculum has been suspended indefinitely. Our focus will now shift entirely to military training and mass recruitment—both of mages and of ordinary citizens. Everyone can contribute to resisting these portals. If the True Humans can endure... so can we."

He paused, letting his words resonate throughout the room.

"Now that the tower has been secured, we'll begin sweeping the city for missing students. In one week, you'll be free to return to your duchies—but under martial law. You'll have the authority to impose curfews and enforce any regulations needed."

These last words were clearly addressed to the dukes and high-ranking nobles.

Then King Charles spoke up.

"A wing of Inquisitors is already en route, flying on Asalon winged horses to the wall itself. That place cannot be left vulnerable. The True Humans may be quiet for now, but that silence is dangerous. As the gods warned us in the past— the Wall must never fall."

King Charles stood, his tone now sharper, more resolute.

"In the coming months, the other monarchs and I will relocate to Skidbladnir, a sanctuary atop a floating island in the demi-human realm. It will serve as our headquarters. One of the ancient teleportation trees is located there—linked to others scattered across the continent. You'll receive updates through our envoys, and when the portals begin to appear, you're welcome to join us at the sanctuary."

Floating islands... So they truly have access to places like that.

For the Asalons, reaching them likely isn't even difficult, not when they ride winged horses.

"As for the other side of the portal—Svartalfheim," Queen Garnora added, her voice calm but edged with tension, "more threats will come. The demons who attacked the academy may have agreed to a ceasefire, but there are other forces waiting to be unleashed."

The council continued, now shifting to tactical measures. One initiative stood out: mass production of communication artifacts. The goal was simple—instant response when new portals emerged. From what I gathered, the smaller portals usually appear in densely populated zones on the other continent, and the same is expected here.

Portals are like fractured glass. When an anomaly opens on our side... it means the entire barrier has already been compromised. Each crack makes it easier for more of them to push through.

"The frontier fortresses must remain at full capacity," said King Charles.

He moved on to explain something Siegfried had already told me—the true reason why the massive portal at the border hasn't been opened yet.

Each fortress is built around an ancient tree—living seals that prevent something much worse from coming through. These strongholds weren't just military installations; they were barriers.

As long as those trees remain untouched, the worst of what lies beyond won't reach us.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

At least the fortresses were protected. The Inquisitors were being deployed to reinforce them, too.

But the smaller portals... they were already here. Scattered. Hidden. Dangerous.

It made sense that the kingdoms had moved toward full-scale militarization. If more civilians could fight—even at a basic level—the odds would tilt slightly in our favor.

Still, my thoughts spiraled.

Would the creatures emerging from those smaller portals instinctively head toward the great wall, drawn to something beyond it? Or would they wander? Hunt? Spread?

Maybe the half-demons were still bound by rules that limited how far they could act... but the orcs, the beasts?

They weren't.

The threat was growing—relentlessly.

And one thing was clear:

Dark times were coming.

Soldier Harold:

"Keep moving! Let's go!" our logistics supervisor barked from ahead.

He wasn't a frontline soldier—more of an administrator—but out here, orders were orders.

We were tasked with transporting the bodies of the creatures slain during the assault. The Inquisitors alone had taken down thousands. I'd heard some of the corpses were sent off to be displayed at a noble event. A warning to the aristocracy—or maybe just a show.

"They found something inside them," the supervisor said as I heaved a heavy orc onto the cart.

"What is it?"

"Mana Gems," he answered. "Real ones. They're part of the monsters' bodies, almost like a natural organ. Deep red—like wine. Loaded with mana, but delicate. Easy to shatter. They're sending them to engineers and scholars. If we're lucky, they might turn these things into weapons or tools."

I finished loading the body and started pushing the cart forward. The path led through the edge of the academy forest. We weren't alone—other soldiers and workers moved along the same trail, carts creaking in the night, piled high with bloodied corpses.

My supervisor climbed up beside the cargo and gestured for me to join him.

"The faster we get this done, the sooner we're out of here," he muttered, rubbing his arms from the chill.

I climbed up beside him, and we began the long ride through the dark woods. The horses pulled us forward in silence, the cart bouncing slightly over uneven earth. I tried not to think about the smell.

Suddenly, there was a sharp snap.

"Shit," I hissed as the cord securing the bodies snapped loose. I scrambled back to the pile, grabbing onto the limbs of the corpses to stop them from falling out.

"We don't have time to stop!" my supervisor shouted. "Just hold them down. I'll grab a new rope when we get to the station."

Fantastic.

I locked my arms around the topmost body—a massive orc with the face of a warped boar. Even with its eyes closed, it had a presence that made my skin crawl. Ugly thing. Its face was frozen mid-snarl.

At least it's dead...

Then, without warning, the cart lurched to a halt.

I was thrown backward, landing hard on the wooden floor. A few of the corpses spilled off the side, landing with wet thuds in the dirt.

"Hey!" I barked. "You trying to kill me?"

I sat up, rubbing my shoulder—and froze.

The driver's bench was empty.

My supervisor was gone.

"What in blazes…?"

I stood slowly, heart beginning to race, and looked around.

Nothing but trees. Thick, tall, dark.

The only source of light was the glowing mana orb attached to the back of the cart. Everything beyond it was shadows.

"This isn't the damn trail..." I muttered.

I jumped off the cart, looking around for any sign of him.

Maybe he jumped off to take a piss? Maybe he fell?

But then I saw something that made my blood run cold.

Broken carts.

Dozens of them.

Scattered among the trees—wheels shattered, wood splintered. Some were half-buried in roots and leaves like they'd been there for weeks.

And not a single sound in the woods.

No birds.

No wind.

No breathing.

Just silence.

"They're from the ones who went ahead..." I muttered in disbelief.

I glanced around, then ran to the front of the cart. The horse let out a low snort.

"Where are you?!" I shouted. "Hey! Answer me!"

I turned the corner—and fell flat on my back.

"Holy shit!"

My supervisor was hanging from a tree, his body swinging gently in the breeze. Around him, several others were strung up the same way—soldiers, lifeless, limp, their necks bent unnaturally. All suspended from the surrounding branches.

"This... this isn't real," I whispered, stumbling to my feet, hand going to the hilt of my sword. "No way this is real..."

I turned toward the cart—then froze.

The orc corpses were standing.

Every single one of them. Upright. Silent.

Their glassy, dead eyes locked onto me.

I didn't think. I slashed the rope connecting the horse to the cart and jumped onto its back.

"Go! GO!"

The horse bucked and galloped forward into the night. I clung to its neck as the forest flew past us.

Around us, more orcs—dozens of them—stood along the trail. I saw their rotted bodies shifting between the trees, motionless, like they were waiting.

"This is insane!" I shouted, sweat running down my face. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt.

The horse cried out and reared.

I lost my grip—slammed into the ground.

"NO! Wait!" I called out, watching as the horse bolted into the trees, vanishing between the trunks. "Shit...!"

I scrambled to my feet.

And there, standing exactly where the horse had stopped...

...was something else.

A soldier. At least, something shaped like one. It wore a full suit of dark, rusted armor. Its helmet was shaped like a skull—but inside was nothing. No eyes. No flesh.

Just shadow.

"W-What... what are you?" I asked, backing away slowly, sword trembling in my grip.

The thing said nothing.

It lifted a chain from its belt and let it hang, the links clinking softly in the silence.

Then it snapped its wrist.

CLANG.

The chain flew.

Wrapped around my chest.

"AAGHH!"

I screamed as the links tightened and—

I was yanked off my feet.

Dragged across the ground, screaming for help as the cold metal bit into my ribs and the darkness swallowed me whole.

"HELP!"

But the only thing that answered was the hiss of the wind and the deathly silence of the forest.

Approaching me was the skull-faced knight.

There was no flesh beneath his armor—just an infinite blackness beneath the hood, as if the bone mask floated inside a void of shadows. This thing wasn't human. Not even close.

I kicked him.

He didn't flinch.

Chains rattled.

One wrapped around my waist—then another. Soon, I was being bound from all sides. Chains lashed out of the forest, ensnaring my arms, legs, even my throat.

Two more knights emerged from the treeline. Silent. Monstrous. They moved like phantoms through the trees.

They each grabbed a chain and began pulling.

"NO!" I screamed, pain exploding through my limbs.

The chain around my neck tightened.

I writhed, struggling to breathe, to move—anything. Then I heard it.

A horse's breath.

Hooves.

From behind me, a towering figure appeared, mounted on a black steed. His armor was heavier than the others', etched in crimson runes.

"Do not fear death," he said, voice deep, hollow, like it echoed from beyond a tomb. "There is no rest in death."

He raised one gauntleted hand, fingers closing into a fist.

"The Accord was only for the Archbishops and Heralds."

"We are not bound by that law."

My body convulsed as the chains pulled tighter.

"I am one of the Black Knights… a Demonic Draugr." He bowed his head slightly, as if mocking me with courtesy.

"You will be my first kill in this world. But not the last. This city will fall."

He turned his mount.

The chains snapped tight—

—and tore my limbs apart.

Agony split the world.

Last thing I saw was his steed stepping forward.

The force yanked my head from my shoulders.

Darkness.

Forever.