A young boy charges out of a portal, sword and bell clutched in hands, body garbed in a surcoat and ceramic platemail armor.

The first thing he did was fall down.

Then he spoke, with many voices, one of which was his own:
"Sorry!"
"Augh, dammit Kimiko, I know you have calibrations to do but I needed that leg!"
"Sorry!!"
We must be more careful in the future. Saraneth almost slipped from our grasp, and that would have meant trouble. Though it does not seek to ring of its own accord, it often does so."
"wwhat the hell wwas that? this is the wworst thing that evver happened to me, aside from bein dead a course. im gonna die a second time cause you can't evven wwalk right"
"Look! Look. Just everybody shut up and lets get on with this...this battle."

The warrior got up, adjusted his limbs, and 5 souls peered from his eyes at the scene around him. A man with a sword made of green light was staring at him quizzically, still somehow deflecting missiles using the sword while looking in the opposite direction. Another man sitting on a pile of rubble taking a breather had a strange staff across his knees. Before the man could get up, two rifle-wielding soldiers clad in heavy white armor ran around the corner, saw him, and leveled their guns squarely at his chest. As the cacophony of war sounded around them, he could just barely hear their command to drop his weapon. The heavy broadsword Nehima tumbled from the grasp of his right hand.

All four approached and stood around him, the two soldiers still holding guns up to him. Once they were arranged in a semi-circle, the soldiers yelled above the sounds of battle a query as to who he was.

"uuhhh...", was all he could manage before his left arm, seemingly of its own accord, rang the bell he was holding in a figure eight pattern. The four men (He assumed. The two in armor could have been anybody.) in front of him started forward, but their muscles seized up and their eyes twitched at the piercing ring of the bell. The boy's torso still completely still, and his face frozen in shock, his right arm reached to the strangely shaped bandolier strapped across his chest. It drew the third-smallest bell carefully, by its clapper, and while the little audience he had gathered was still rapt, threw it into the air, caught it with a flourish, and rung it downward, as though it were a blade.

The four enemies dropped dead at the armored boy's feet.

He just stood there for a while, staring.