Soon after getting hos payment in either Trahiners or trading goods (mostly trading goods—and once, a slightly used scarf), his train was now loaded with roughly two dozen passengers—some boarding purely out of morbid curiosity, the allure of the unknown, or the simple fact that the next scheduled stagecoach wasn't due for another three days. A burly miner elbowed his way to a window seat, muttering about "damned fancy steam contraptions" while his pickaxe vibrated ominously against the luggage rack.
Nearby, a trio of gossiping grandmothers clutched their knitting like holy relics, whispering about "unnatural speeds" while their needles clacked in terrified synchronization with the train's pistons. The SYSTEM helpfully translated their chatter into **[ELDERLY CONSPIRACY THEORIES: 87% ACCURATE]** before Johnathan's avatar theatrically cleared his throat—a sound like a boiler depressurizing—and announced, "Next stop: Daureisu!."
As the Kaikachu Express began to chuff and speed up forward, its iron wheels bit into the phantom rails with a sound like a steam-powered guillotine slicing through sheet music. Johnathan's conductor avatar leaned halfway out the cab window, Dark Elf ears venting rhythmic puffs of steam that coalesced into floating kanji reading *"Next Stop: Daureisu—Please Hold Onto Your Sanity."*
The SYSTEM flickered above the locomotive's smokebox, projecting **[SPEED: 100 MPH, DEMONIC SYNCHRONIZATION: STILL CONFUSED BUT COMMITTED]** in molten-brass letters that dissolved into steam-whistle laughter. Johnathan's conductor avatar adjusted his cap with a six-fingered flourish, rivet tattoos pulsing down his forearms in sync with the Jubilee's pistons—each *clang* perfectly timed to drown out the Reptile Folk scholar's scream as his sandwich escaped into the ventilation ducts.
Outside, the landscape blurred into emerald smears, trees bending away from the tracks like kicked peasants as the Kaikachu Express continued at 100 mph—its demon-stitched flanks exhaling steam that briefly formed the words *"Scenic Route™"* before unraveling.
Soon enough Daureisu came into view, it seemed like a nicely sized village—about enough room for 8,000 people, give or take a few hundred—with a decently sized station that looked large enough to accommodate his locomotive.
Johnathan's conductor avatar straightened his cap with a flourish that sent steam jetting from his elongated ears in perfect synchronization with the Jubilee's smokestack. The SYSTEM flickered **[ARRIVAL IMMINENT: PREPARE FOR THEATRICS]** as the train's demon-stitched flanks pulsed crimson—bioluminescent filigree tracing mocking kanji across the boiler plates that read *"Final Stop: Reality Optional."*
Despite that the stop was gentle enough, the Kaikachu Express screeched to a halt with the theatricality of a Broadway finale—sparks erupting from phantom brake shoes in a shower of crimson embers that spelled "DAUREISU" in midair before winking out. Johnathan's conductor avatar phased through the cab door without opening it, his elongated tusks gleaming under the station's flickering gas lamps as he gestured grandly toward the platform.
"Mind the gap," he announced, steam curling from his ears in perfect sync with the locomotive's sighing pistons—his conductor-gloved hands flourishing toward a *nonexistent* step as passengers disembarked with varying degrees of existential whiplash. The Reptile Folk scholar's delux sandwich had reportedly founded a separatist movement in the ventilation ducts.
The stationmaster—a portly man whose mustache trembled like overcooked noodles—gaped at Johnathan's avatar looming over him, elongated tusks glinting under Daureisu's lamplight. "S-Sir Conductor! Your train is... *unconventional*," he stammered, eying the Jubilee's bioluminescent rivets pulsing like a mechanical heartbeat.
"*Innovative*," Johnathan corrected, plucking a stray spark from the air and flicking it into the man's ledger, where it burned the word **"TIPS APPRECIATED"** into the parchment. Behind him, the locomotive's whistle screeched—a sound that, upon closer inspection, was just his own throaty chuckle amplified through **[SYSTEM-ENHANCED THEATRICS]**.
A gaggle of wide-eyed children pressed against the platform's edge, fingers twitching toward the train's demon-engraved flanks. "Mama, is it *alive*?" one whispered.
Johnathan's avatar leaned down—steam venting from his ears in a conspiratorial hiss—and winked. "Only on Tuesdays." He joked, adjusting his conductor's cap just enough to make the rivet tattoos slithering down his neck pulse ominously. Behind him, his original locomotive body exhaled a plume of steam that briefly coalesced into a crude doodle of a calendar with "TUESDAY" circled in glowing brake-light runes.
The SYSTEM flickered **[DECEPTION: 98.7% EFFECTIVE]** as Johnathan's conductor avatar strolled down the platform with exaggerated swagger, steam puffing from his Dark Elf ears in syncopated rhythm with the locomotive's idling pistons.
Johnathan then decided to explore Daureisu for a bit.
I mean fuck it, why not right?
Johnathan's conductor avatar strolled through Daureisu's cobbled streets with theatrical swagger, elongated tusks gleaming under gas lamps as townsfolk recoiled from his towering frame. Steam curled from his ears in sync with distant train whistles—purely for aesthetic, since his actual locomotive body currently sat parked at the station pretending to be a normal (if excessively ornate) steam engine.
The SYSTEM helpfully projected **[LOCAL REACTIONS: 73% TERROR, 20% AWE, 7% QUESTIONABLE LIFE CHOICES]** overhead as Johnathan's conductor avatar strode past a bakery, his elongated tusks catching the scent of freshly baked existential dread.
Then he hit a seemingly invisible barrier.
*THWACK!*
**[AVATAR'S MAX DISTANCE OF 1000FT FROM PRIMARY BODY REACHED]** flashed across Johnathan's vision in glowing brake-shoe glyphs as his nose—well, the nose of his ten-foot-tall Dark Elf-Giant-Orckin conductor avatar—rebounded off an unseen forcefield with a *clang* that reverberated down his rivet-stitched spine. Steam erupted from his elongated ears in indignant spirals.
Behind him, a stray chicken flapped into the barrier mid-peck and passed through there there, legs kicking as they always did.
"Ah," Johnathan muttered, rubbing his nose—or rather, the *concept* of a nose his avatar currently possessed—as the SYSTEM flickered **[RESTRICTION: AVATAR-TRAIN SYNCHRONIZATION RADIUS]** in mocking brass letters. The chicken strutted past him, clucking smugly as its wings brushed the invisible barrier without consequences.
"Of course. Because nothing says *fantasy isekai* like tether physics."
His elongated tusks gleamed under Daureisu's midday sun as Johnathan's conductor avatar dramatically clutched his chest—steam venting from his ears in exaggerated bursts that briefly formed the kanji for *"Betrayed by Physics"* before dissolving. Behind him, the townsfolk exchanged confused glances, unaware that their new local train driver had just encountered the world's least convenient leash.
"Ah, it seems I've forgotten something back on my train," Johnathan announced theatrically, steam puffing from his elongated ears in perfect synchronization with the locomotive's distant whistle. The townsfolk didn't need to know his "train" was currently whispering **[INSERT SELF-DEPRECATING JOKE HERE]** through the station's plumbing.
A baker dropped his tray of suspiciously yellow croissant like thing as Johnathan's conductor avatar pivoted with unnecessary drama—his rivet tattoos slithering down his forearms in perfect sync with the distant locomotive's pistons. Steam vented from his elongated ears in theatrical spirals that briefly spelled *"Technical Difficulties"* before unraveling.
"Ah-ha! My *train*," Johnathan proclaimed to no one in particular, flourishing a six-fingered hand toward the station where his actual body sat humming **[DEMONIC EASY LISTENING TRACK #7]**. A nearby fruit stall collapsed under the sheer weight of his performative gravitas, peaches rolling toward the barrier only to pass through effortlessly while his avatar remained trapped like a particularly dramatic ghost.
The SYSTEM projected **[COMEDIC TIMING: ACTIVATED]** in shimmering brake-light runes just as Johnathan's conductor avatar attempted to lean against the invisible barrier—only to phase halfway through like a drunken specter, his elongated tusks embedded in a hapless pastry cart's canopy. Steam jetted from his ears in indignant spurts as the baker screamed, mistaking the undignified scene for some avant-garde performance art.
"*Ahem.* Technical difficulties," Johnathan announced, extracting his tusks with a *pop* that sent cream puffs flying like shrapnel. The SYSTEM helpfully translated the baker's wail into **[ARTISTIC APPRECIATION: 0%]** before dissolving into pixelated chuckles. His conductor avatar straightened his cap—steam jetting from elongated ears in sync with the distant locomotive's *chuff-chuff*—and executed a flawless about-face, cloak swirling with unnecessary drama.
Towns people scattered like startled pigeons as Johnathan's conductor avatar sauntered back toward the station, steam curling from his elongated ears in lazy spirals that briefly formed the kanji for *"Casual Stroll™"* before unraveling. The SYSTEM obliged with **[AMBIENT SOUNDTRACK: FANTASY TRAIN ANIME EPISODE 3 - "Peaceful Return Arc"] ** , complete with a shamisen plucking suspiciously similar to a steam valve hissing in 4/4 time. A stray dog trotted beside him momentarily before veering off to bark at its own shadow—Johnathan tipped his cap at the existential crisis in progress.
Children peeked from alleyways, their whispers of *"Is he really an Elf Folk?" * mingling with the rhythmic *clack-clack* of his rivet tattoos mimicking railroad ties under his skin.
Johnathan's conductor avatar paused beneath a clocktower—its hands frozen at *"Teatime O'Clock"*—and tipped his cap to a trio of what appeared to be abhyasi monks. Their prayer beads clattered in arrhythmia with his locomotive's distant pistons, steam from his ears curling into kanji that read *"Spiritual Journey? Take the 3:15 to Enlightenment."* The SYSTEM projected **[CULTURAL SENSITIVITY: 12%]** as the eldest monk squinted at Johnathan's elongated tusks and asked, "Are you... *lost*?"
"Only philosophically," Johnathan replied, plucking a stray spark from the air and folding it into origami railroad tracks that dissolved into steam-whistle laughter. Behind him, a street vendor's cart of "authentic dragon skewers" burst into flames purely from the weight of his theatrical pause. The namuhkin monks retreated into a nearby tavern muttering about "industrialized karma."
The stroll continued past a blacksmith's forge where apprentices gaped at Johnathan's rivet tattoos—their hammer strokes unconsciously syncing with the distant *chuff-chuff* of his train-body's cylinders. "Fine craftsmanship," he remarked, running six-fingered hands over a freshly forged horseshoe that immediately bent into a perfect miniature rail when touched. Steam vented from his ears in amused puffs as the smith's face contorted between confusion and existential horror.
A gaggle of street urchins trailed behind him, mimicking his conductor-cap adjustments with exaggerated flourishes until he pivoted abruptly—elongated tusks glinting—and tossed them demon jerky carved into ticket-shaped snacks. The SYSTEM flickered **[DEMONIC SNACKS: 100% NUTRITIONALLY QUESTIONABLE]** overhead as the children bit into jerky that screamed *"All aboard!"* before dissolving into harmless soot. Their delighted shrieks blended with the distant train whistle in perfect harmony.
At the station plaza, flower vendors recoiled as Johnathan's shadow stretched unnaturally long—his silhouette briefly morphing into a steam locomotive's profile before snapping back. "Apologies," he murmured, plucking a lily that instantly petrified into crystallized coal in his grip. The SYSTEM projected **[FLORAL TRIBUTE: LOCOMOTIVE-APPROVED]** as he tucked it behind his ear, where it hissed like a tiny boiler. Passengers boarding his train-body eyed him warily, unaware the "conductor" they whispered about was currently syncing his pulse to the engine's steam pressure gauges three feet away.
His elongated ears twitched—steam venting in rhythmic jets—as a commotion erupted near the tracks. A merchant argued with his avatar body over baggage fees, entirely unaware he was haggling with a sentient Jubilee Class currently humming **[DEMONIC EASY LISTENING TRACK #7]** under its breath.