Summoning America

Author’s Note:

Summoning America is a derivative work of Summoning Japan (aka Nihonkoku Shoukan) and reflects one of my first attempts at writing. If you’re looking for something with significantly higher quality and an original setting, please check out Manifest Fantasy.

Manifest Fantasy is now available on RoyalRoad! Expect much better writing quality overall, from plot to character development. I know a lot of you are GATE fans as well. Manifest Fantasy is NOT a GATE fanfiction; it is an original piece. It’ll be quite the breath of fresh air compared to GATE and Nihonkoku Shoukan themselves, so I think you all will enjoy it. I will be uploading new chapters once every two weeks. Summoning America updates will remain consistent. 

Manifest Fantasy: https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/75057/manifest-fantasy/chapter/1362847/chapter-1-first-contact 

Check out my discord server for updates, announcements, and discussion for my stories!

Discord: https://discord.gg/wr2xexGJaD

 

——

 

Washington D.C.

April 17, 2021; 48 hours before the Transference.

 

"Mr. President!" A young and wide-eyed aide burst into the office, momentarily shattering the quietude.

 

Thomas Lee, newly inaugurated as the President of the United States, glanced up from a pile of economic reports. His gaze was sharp and youthful, reflecting his unique position as one of the youngest presidents in United States history. He didn't miss the alarm in the aide's voice and braced himself mentally. “Yes? What’s the matter, Steven?”

 

“Sir, NASA just discovered a large storm developing over Hawaii! It’s like nothing we’ve ever seen!” Steven gasped out. The tremor in his voice suggested he was struggling to grasp the reality of his own words.

 

Lee rose from his chair, curiosity burning in his eyes. "Whoa, slow down, Steven." He scrutinized his aide, trying to parse the fear in the younger man's face. “Why am I just hearing about this now?”

 

“The storm, sir...it seems to have spontaneously appeared." Steven managed to slow his breath, his words gaining more structure. "NASA should be calling you momentarily; one of their meteorologists will brief you about the emergency.”

 

Before he could add anything further, the sharp ring of the presidential hotline cut through their conversation. Lee strode over to his desk, a bead of anxious sweat forming along his forehead. He picked up the receiver, his grip firm. “President Lee speaking.”

 

“Mr. President,” a voice replied, its calmness in stark contrast to the earlier panic. It was a voice trained to keep its cool in a tempest. “I’m Dr. Jenny Pollan, lead meteorologist at NASA. I’m sure Steven has filled you in on the storm developing over Hawaii. We’re currently classifying it as a Category 2, but the situation is rapidly evolving. We’ve already advised the local residents to take immediate shelter.”

 

Lee sat down, listening intently as he tried to grapple with the emerging disaster. Dr. Pollan continued, her professional demeanor veiling the urgency of the situation. “This storm has a growth rate far surpassing our worst recorded disasters, from Sandy to Katrina. It’s also expanding at an unprecedented rate and will soon cover a significant percentage of the globe’s surface. The projections suggest it's moving toward California and will make landfall by tomorrow.”

 

President Lee blinked, his mind reeling. He was no stranger to crises, but the scale of this one was unfathomable. “That doesn’t make any sense…” He muttered, trying to wrap his head around the terrifyingly swift timeline. “How could a storm move so quickly?”

 

There was a slight pause before Dr. Pollan responded, "We don't know, Mr. President. The storm's behavior is anomalous, to say the least. It's still following our mathematical models for now, so we can track and predict its path. However, based on the current rate of growth, we expect to lose contact with Hawaii in just over four hours. The interference from the storm will likely cut that down to two or three."

 

A chilling silence fell over the office. Lee could almost feel the weight of the impending disaster pressing down upon him, a sense of dread seeping into the air around him. He closed his eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath before turning to Steven.

 

"Steven, I need you to initiate the protocols for a national emergency declaration. Get the National Security Council here as soon as possible. Also, contact the FAA and order the grounding of all flights." He paused, his gaze drifting over to the wall clock. Every tick seemed to pass as if time had slowed down. "And tell Jan to ready my press team."

 

"Right away, sir." Steven turned on his heel and rushed out of the room.

 

Turning his attention back to the phone, Lee leaned back in his chair, one hand massaging his temple. “Dr. Pollan, any suggestions on our course of action?”

 

"Hunker down and hope for the best, Mr. President. Ever see ‘The Day After Tomorrow’?” Pollan asked, her attempt at levity hanging heavy in the air.

 

Lee chuckled, the sound more bitter than amused. “Damn… it can’t be that bad, can it?”

 

"I sincerely hope not, but it's best to prepare for the worst," Dr. Pollan replied, the faintest hint of concern creeping into her voice. "I advise that you mobilize all emergency services and ready the National Guard for disaster relief."

 

“Noted. I’ll be making some calls now; keep me updated if anything new comes up, Dr.Pollan.”

 

“Will do, Mr. President. Good luck,” She ended the call with that somber note.

 

Alone now in the echoing silence of his office, President Lee slumped back into his seat, staring blankly at the wall. His thoughts whirled, trying to make sense of the unprecedented situation. Suddenly, the Oval Office felt much larger, the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders.

 

"Why me…" he muttered, gazing out at the setting sun, a red orb sinking into the horizon as though mirroring his sinking heart.

 

——

 

The world was engulfed in silence. The storm that had tormented their skies with ominous clouds and whipping winds had suddenly ceased, leaving behind a sunny blue sky. Was the worst finally over?

 

President Lee stood in the heart of the situation room, his face stoic, eyes scanning the illuminated displays. The room was bustling with activity, filled with high-ranking officials and experts - the nation's best minds working together in a bid to unravel the mystery. Their hectic conversations and bustle served as a stark contrast to the calm weather outside.

 

"Alright, folks. Let's gather ourselves," Lee's voice boomed, quieting the room. His eyes held a steady gaze that seemed to anchor the room amidst the disarray.

 

Dr. Mitchell Richards, one of his senior scientific advisors, spoke up first, his voice anxious, "The global communication blackout, the storm, it's all connected. We've lost contact with everything beyond our borders. The last signals we received before the blackout were panic-laden, implying the storm was not just localized here."

 

A shiver ran down Lee's spine. His mind was racing with scenarios, each more terrifying than the last. But he maintained a composed exterior; it was his responsibility to keep his team grounded.

 

"Any theories, Dr. Richards?"

 

"Without proper data, anything we come up with will be pure speculation, Mr. President," Richards admitted reluctantly, "But I can tell you that no natural phenomenon we know of could have caused this."

 

Lee turned his attention to a wall-mounted display showing live feeds from several news networks, their broadcasts filled with storm footage, panicked reporters, and on-screen graphics with bold letters: GLOBAL COMMUNICATION BLACKOUT.

 

"People are scared, and they're looking to us for answers," Lee said, mostly to himself. He took a deep breath and straightened his tie. "We'll address the nation. Let them know we're working on it, and we'll get through this together."

 

He then looked at Steven, his ever-competent aide, "Prepare a press conference. And get everyone we can on this blackout, ASAP."

 

"Yes, Mister President," Steven acknowledged, promptly rushing out of the room.

 

——

 

Hours turned into days, and the United States found itself deeper in metaphorical crap. Contact with the rest of the Earth seemed to have been severed, replaced by a vast expanse of unknown waters. Confusion and worry seeped into every corner of the nation, permeating every conversation, every news report, every social media feed. Despite this, the administration carried on, working tirelessly in their quest for answers.

 

President Lee, holding onto the calm resilience that had seen him through the election, walked briskly into the situation room. His eyes quickly met with those of General Stafford, his Chief of Staff. The general's hardened face was paler than usual, his lips tight with a tension that echoed throughout the room.

 

"Status report, General."

 

"We've dispatched reconnaissance flights, sir," Stafford began, his voice steady. "They've covered thousands of miles in all directions. There's no sign of any landmass where they should be. No Canada to the North. No Mexico to the South. We are...alone."

 

The room seemed to contract at the revelation, the air thickening with the weight of the information. Lee's mind raced to comprehend the general's words, the full implications slowly dawning on him.

 

"And the satellite networks?" Lee asked, a glimmer of hope in his voice.

 

"We're trying, sir," a technician piped in, "the storm's interference has made it difficult, but we're making some headway. Given enough time, we should be able to reconnect."

 

The President nodded, his gaze moving back to General Stafford, "And the bases?"

 

"They are intact, sir," the general replied. "Luckily, they seem to have been transferred with us and are positioned in new islands close to the continent. Communications are steady, and we've initiated emergency protocols."

 

Lee turned his gaze back to the live feed from the reconnaissance flights. Images of blue sea, unending and monotonous, filled the screens. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, "Continue the recon flights. We need to map out our surroundings."

 

"Sir, we've found land! And we’ve detected some...anomalies," Stafford said hesitantly, his fingers dancing over a tablet before pushing it towards Lee.

 

The President frowned as he looked down at the infrared images. Unfamiliar shapes, winged figures, and something that looked eerily like a... dragon?

 

"As if things weren't complicated enough," Lee muttered under his breath. The world as they knew it had vanished, replaced with a reality so fantastical it defied comprehension. "Alert the recon teams, General. We've got a lot more to discover."

 

——

 

As the recon missions pressed on, new findings trickled in. A landmass was discovered less than 500 miles southwest of Hawaii - an unknown subcontinent that had been dubbed 'Alpha'. Unbelievably, the pilots reported encounters with medieval fantasy civilizations. Some even claimed to have seen local air forces consisting of armored wyverns.

 

In the Oval Office, President Lee was on a secure line with Captain Elisa Torres, one of the recon pilots flying near landmass 'Alpha'.

 

"Elisa, can you repeat that for me, please?" he asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He had studied many crises throughout his life – even expecting to run into some during his presidency, but he expected nothing like this.

 

"Sir," Torres replied, her voice crackling slightly over the radio, "we have visually confirmed multiple flying creatures. They appear to be... dragons, sir. Armored, with riders on their backs. I've never seen anything like it."

 

A tense silence fell over the room, only broken by the soft hum of the equipment. Lee finally broke it with a sigh. "And you said they didn't appear hostile?"

 

"Uncertain, sir," Torres confirmed. "They approached us, likely due to us breaching their airspace. We’ve shaken them; looks like they can’t get above 10,000 feet."

 

Lee nodded, as though Torres could see him. "Understood, Captain. Continue observing, but do not engage. We don't want to provoke anyone."

 

In the midst of the chaos, an unexpected sense of wonder began to permeate the crisis. Dragons? Medieval civilizations? The narrative was akin to a fantasy novel. And yet, this was their reality.

 

"Begin preparations for a potential first contact," President Lee ordered. "We don't know who or what we're dealing with, so let's not take any chances."

 

In the days that followed, a sense of urgency fueled the United States. Relief efforts were launched, the tech teams worked round the clock to reestablish satellite connections, and the recon missions continued to explore and document their new surroundings. As they navigated this uncharted territory, one question persisted: What happened? Yet, for now, all they could do was adapt and try to understand their new world.

 

——

 

Principality of Qua Toyne

April 19, Central Calendar Year 1639, 8 A.M.

6th Wyvern Squadron

 

From his vantage point, cruising through the gorgeous sunny skies above Qua Toyne, Wyvern Knight Marl Patima marveled at the serene tapestry of life playing out below him. He guided his wyvern along the preordained patrol route, the rhythmic beat of the creature's wings lulling him into a state of calm. The breathtaking landscape was dotted with humble villages, their whitewashed buildings gleaming in the early morning sun, their cobblestone streets alive with the hustle and bustle of the peasantry. It was the sort of tranquil day that would be immortalized in the songs of minstrels, an ironic contrast to the lingering threat of aggression from the supremacist Lourian Kingdom to the southwest.

 

Suddenly, a persistent droning sound intruded upon Marl's peaceful contemplation. The noise, though initially faint, grew steadily in intensity, gnawing at the edges of his awareness. Brushing off the irritation, he squinted, scouring the crystalline skies around him. When his search yielded no results, he resorted to his manacomms to reach his wingman.

 

"Grant," he broadcasted, letting his voice ride the arcane wavelengths, "Do you hear that? Sounds like...a buzzing."

 

"I do, Marl," came Grant's slightly static-laced response. "Can't pinpoint where it's coming from, but it's stronger up ahead."

 

Even as Marl processed Grant's words, the droning intensified, morphing into a resonating hum that made his teeth clench in annoyance. He narrowed his eyes, anxiety gnawing at him as the peaceful atmosphere of the morning was steadily replaced by an unfamiliar sense of foreboding.

 

It was then that Grant's voice, spiked with panic, crackled over the manacomms. "Something's out there, Marl! Fast-moving...and it...it doesn't flap!"

 

Before Marl could form a response, a colossal entity darted past him with a terrifying velocity, cutting through the skies with the audacity of a comet. A quick glance revealed a monstrosity unlike anything he'd ever witnessed: an immense, winged creature, whose skin bore a metallic sheen under the sun. No feathers adorned its wings, yet it soared higher and faster than any bird or beast he knew. Unfamiliar symbols, a strange mix of lines and curves, were etched onto its flank, along with a constellation of stars, and an unrecognizable emblem - a blend of red, white, and blue hues.

 

A sudden gust of turbulent wind rocked his wyvern, nearly unseating Marl. With an expert tug on the reins, he managed to steady the creature, taking a moment to regain his bearings before he issued his next command.

 

"Report back to command, Grant!" he ordered, his voice steady despite the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. "I'll tail this...thing. It's on a trajectory towards Maihark."

 

Grant's response, crisp and affirmative, filtered through the manacomms as Marl guided his wyvern in pursuit of the anomaly, the quiet tranquility of the morning shattered by the high-pitched hum of an alien presence.

 

Despite his best efforts to keep pace with the foreign object, Marl found himself struggling. The winged behemoth moved with a speed and agility that defied its massive size, leaving Marl's wyvern to labor through the increasingly turbulent wake. The man and beast raced through the undulating sea of clouds, their speed a mere fraction of that of the mysterious entity.

 

On the manacomms, the bewildered voices of Marl's compatriots crackled to life. "That thing's bigger than a galleon!" came a disbelieving shout from another rider.

 

"Yet it moves like a falcon!" Marl could barely hear another one, the astonished words nearly drowned out by the droning of the unidentified entity.

 

His heart pounded in his chest as the realization began to dawn on him. This wasn't some foreign beast or creature. It was a mechanical monstrosity, crafted with a technology that surpassed anything known to Qua Toyne. It was not of their world, he was sure of it.

 

Overwhelmed with a sense of foreboding, Marl tightened his grip on the wyvern's reins, the leather worn and comfortable in his gloved hands. The arcane link between him and his mount buzzed with shared urgency, the wyvern understanding the importance of their pursuit.

 

With a flick of his wrist, Marl ignited his manacomms, the device crackling to life in response. "Maihark Command, this is Marl Patima of the Sixth," he announced, keeping his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. "There is an unidentified flying object, larger than any known wyvern, heading towards Maihark. Its speed is...unprecedented."

 

The response from Maihark Command was immediate, a new voice – stern and commanding – booming over the manacomms. “Knight Patima, we are scrambling the remainder of Sixth Squadron to assist. Keep the object in sight and do not engage. Repeat, do not engage.”

 

"Understood," Marl replied, watching as the object started to shrink in the distance, its speed a mocking testament to the limitations of their current technology. He felt a ripple of trepidation surge through him. This was no simple matter; it was an event that could very well change the face of Qua Toyne forever. As the last traces of the entity faded into the horizon, Marl turned his wyvern back, heading towards the rendezvous point with the Sixth Squadron. The tranquil morning had taken a turn for the surreal, and they were heading into uncharted skies.

 

——

 

Qua Toyne Wyvern Control Tower

 

Inside the Qua Toyne Wyvern Control Tower, a maelstrom of manacomm chatter filled the room. Gleaming crystals pulsed with myriad colors as information streamed through. Operators dressed in uniforms of azure and gold hunched over their devices, attention honed on the strange occurrence unfolding before them.

 

"Damned object!" an operator cursed, his fist colliding with the table, making the glowing scrolls in front of him ripple. "It's too fast; it will reach Maihark before any of our units can even deploy!"

 

A more decorated officer, his golden insignia glinting in the tower's magical lighting, responded with a stern tone. "That is worrying... Have all available assets sent to Maihark at once. Even if we cannot make it in time, we must at least try. Maihark is the economic ichor of our nation. Should it fall… I cannot even think of the consequences of allowing such an event to occur!”

 

Operators in the room acknowledged the command with grim nods, fingers flicking through glyphs on their manacomms. Outside, pairs of wyverns, their proud figures gleaming under the sunlight, crouched on the runway. With an earth-shattering roar, they beat their powerful wings, launching themselves into the skies above. Watching them ascend, the ground crew paused in their work, awe-struck. Pride swelled in their chests. No foe could breach their sky, not when they were defended by the valiant wyvern knights.

 

——

 

Meanwhile, at Maihark Garrison, Captain Inne of the Wyvern Knights Shield watched the skies with a deepening frown. Her eyes were fixed on the object glinting unnaturally in the sky, its shape a stark contrast against the serene blue backdrop. Her gaze followed its trail as it cut through the sky, its form evoking thoughts of highly advanced craft. Could it be a superpower's creation? The thought sent ripples of unease through her.

 

Coming from behind, a dozen wyverns from the Sixth Squadron burst into view, wings slicing through the air as they chased the unknown object. Preparing for a possible engagement, fiery embers began to dance in the wyverns' maws, painting the skies with streaks of impending danger.

 

To their and Inne's surprise, the object ascended rapidly, its metallic form disappearing into the stratosphere, far beyond the reach of the wyverns. Thwarted, the squadron could do nothing but maintain a defensive formation, circling Maihark, their presence a clear warning to the mysterious object.

 

"Captain, the Sixth Wyvern Squadron reports that they cannot engage the object," a manacomm operator reported, the magical device in his hand flickering with the relayed message.

 

"Understood," she said, her gaze still on the now minute object in the sky. "Have them maintain a defensive perimeter and await further instructions."

 

She scrutinized the mysterious object. It was like no beast of flight she had ever seen. It moved with precision and purpose, clearly a machine rather than a living creature. Her thoughts shifted to the superpowers of Mu and the Holy Mirishial Empire. Their technology was rumored to be advanced, but was it so advanced to produce this... airship?

 

Unease gnawed at her. Tensions with the Lourian Kingdom were already high, and this intrusion was the last thing they needed. As more wyvern squadrons took to the sky, the unknown craft continued its watchful circling, unthreatened by the imposing display of airborne might below.

 

Eventually, the object seemed to have seen enough, veering away from Maihark towards the open ocean. Inne watched its retreat, curiosity gnawing at her. There were no known lands in the direction the craft was headed. Louria to the southwest and Fenn to the north, yet the unknown vessel ventured northeast. Was there a land hidden from their world's known map? Her thoughts were clouded with uncertainty, the unknown object's existence already reshaping her understanding of the world.

——

 

Orange County, California

 

Samuel Anders slowly stepped out of his suburban home, nursing a steaming mug of coffee in his hands as he surveyed the aftermath of the storm. His front yard was littered with debris; fallen branches from the mighty oak tree that had stood for decades, and plastic bags that had once lined the inside of his trash bin. He frowned at the sight, shaking his head at the disarray that Mother Nature had left in her wake.

 

"Quite the tempest, eh, Sam?" came a jovial voice from his left.

 

"Hey, Greg," Samuel replied, directing his gaze to the wreckage on Greg's property. His eyes landed on a portion of Greg's wooden fence, now a pile of splintered wood and bent nails. He grimaced, pointing towards the damage, "Ooo… that’s a nasty one."

 

Greg sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, it'll cost me a pretty penny to get that fixed up. Speaking of damages..." He pointed towards Samuel's wind-tossed hair, sporting a cowlick. "Storm got you too?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, adding with a playful tone, "Or was it a wild night in bed?"

 

Samuel snorted, running a hand through his unruly hair in an attempt to tame it. "Hah, get your mind out of the gutter, Mr. Kavilson."

 

Greg chuckled heartily, a twinkle in his eye. Just as he was about to make another teasing comment, he was interrupted by the sound of Samuel’s wife, Martha, calling from the house.

 

"Honey!" Martha leaned out of their front door, holding Samuel's work phone in her hand. "Someone's calling your work phone!"

 

Greg looked on in surprise. "They've already fixed the cell service?"

 

With a shrug, Samuel said, "Excuse me, Greg." He sauntered back inside, taking the phone from Martha's hand with a soft, "Thanks, love." He moved to his home office, closing the door behind him for privacy, and answered the call.

 

“Hello, Samuel Anders speaking.”

 

A deep voice on the other end responded, "Glad we were able to get through to you, Mister Anders. I’m Steven Esker, calling you on behalf of the President of the United States. Are you alone right now?”

 

Samuel settled into his office chair, his brow creasing in curiosity at the serious tone of the call. “No, let me get into my office really quick.”

“Sure thing.”

 

With his mind in a whirl, Samuel retreated into his home office, closing the door for privacy. “Alright,” he said, settling back into the conversation with Steven Esker, “What can I do for the President?”

 

“You’re needed on a diplomatic mission to a new country,” Steven announced, his voice steady.

 

“A new country?” Samuel repeated, surprise evident in his voice. He couldn't help raising an eyebrow at the oddity of the statement.

 

Steven nodded, though Samuel couldn’t see it. “Yes, and this isn't your average diplomatic mission. You might want to jot some notes down. What I am about to disclose is currently classified information.”

 

Intrigued, Samuel grabbed a notepad from his desk and clicked his pen. “Alright, I’m ready.”

 

Steven began his briefing. He detailed the perplexing disappearance of the storm, the abrupt relocation of the United States to an entirely different world, the celestial anomalies, and the loss of communication with other nations. The news was so bizarre that Samuel had to ask him to repeat some details, just to ensure he heard them correctly.

 

“Just to clarify,” Samuel said, looking out his window. “You're saying we're on a different planet now?”

 

“That’s what it seems,” Steven confirmed. “We’ve lost contact with every other country on Earth, the stars aren't in the right places, and we can't see the moon anymore.”

 

Caught between fascination and concern, Samuel leaned forward in his chair. He was a seasoned diplomat, well-versed in handling the unexpected. But nothing in his career had prepared him for something of this magnitude. As Steven shared more information, including the sighting of an unknown civilization and a pursuit involving what looked like dragons, Samuel looked at the photographs sent to his email.

 

They depicted medieval-like architecture, countryside landscapes, and walled cities, giving him a glimpse of what awaited him on this unusual assignment. One of the images showed a line of winged reptiles, glowing menacingly in what seemed to be a prelude to a ranged attack.

 

“It seems they do resemble wyverns more than dragons,” Samuel observed, trying to lighten the mood despite the gravity of the situation.

 

“Beats me,” Steven said. “I’m not an expert on fantasy species. Anyway, your mission is to make first contact with this civilization.”

 

Samuel listened intently as Steven outlined the details of his mission. He was to meet with the Seventh Fleet, which had inexplicably found itself and its Japanese bases off the coast of California. The task of communicating and establishing diplomatic relations with this new civilization rested on Samuel's shoulders.

 

When the briefing ended, Samuel felt a mix of apprehension and exhilaration. “Alright. I’ll be there, and send my thanks to the President for choosing me to go along on this mission.”

“Sure thing, I’ll let him know. Have a nice trip, Mister Ambassador.”

 

As he hung up the phone, Samuel looked out his office window, contemplating the altered horizon. His life, like the world outside, had just taken an unforeseen turn. His routine morning had transformed into the beginning of an extraordinary journey. He had questions, many questions, but they would have to wait. For now, he had a mission to prepare for.