A young man in his school uniform walked down the road, a smile on his face as he headed home. His backpack bounced along with his springy steps. He held his phone, fingers tapping the screen rapidly as he replied to his friends in their group chat.
-THE BOYYYSSS GC-
Josh: Dickheads, I'm already home. When are you gonna hop in the game?
Simon: Bro, it's been 20 minutes since we left school. How the hell are you already in your house? ಥ‿ಥ
Felix: Bro, go touch some grass.
Josh: Stfu and go home already so we can play. (ಠ_ಠ)
Sol: typing...
The group chat was as loud as always.
Josh: Sol, are you home yet???
Sol: Almost...
Josh: Hurry uppp!!
Sol: Brudda, calm down. It's not like the game's gonna leave you. (ಠ_ಠ)
Simon: Josh, you are the most virgin man I have ever seen.
Felix: Says the guy who has every lewd anime figurine on his shelf...
The young man chuckled as he read the messages and closed his phone. Sol had finally arrived at his apartment. He stepped inside, and the messy yet peaceful and quiet room welcomed him. He lived alone—an orphan with no one to do the chores.
Sol sighed. "I should've cleaned up at least a bit before I left for school."
His face darkened at the thought of cleaning. The idea of losing precious gaming time sent a shiver down his spine. He stared intensely at his room, debating whether to tidy up or not.
In the end, he reached a conclusion: not to.
He went straight to his computer, turned it on, and sat down.
Gaming with my friends is more important.
Sol's love for the game—and his friends—often made him neglect chores, sometimes even forgetting to eat. But none of that mattered to him. All he cared about was not being left out by his buddies.
Sol logged into the game.
[Welcome to the Eternal Realms]
Eternal Realms was an online action role-playing game set in a Victorian-meets-medieval fantasy world. Players followed a storyline, completed missions alone or with friends, and could engage in PvP battles. What made it popular was the ability to create custom characters—a feature that delighted gamers who loved self-inserts.
*Ping!*
Sol's phone buzzed. He checked it—another message from Josh in the group chat, already eager to play.
Josh: Where are you guys now?
Sol: Just logged in.
Felix: Starting my computer now.
Simon: Same.
Within seconds, Sol's inbox was flooded with 99 notifications—all from Josh.
"Haah... This guy is hopeless."
*Click.*
Sol accepted the invite. He was about to turn on his in-game mic when a horrendous crackling noise blasted through his headphones.
"Why did it take you so long to accept?!" Josh barked, his cheap mic distorting his voice.
Sol furrowed his brows. Sigh. When is this guy gonna get a life?
"Learn to have some patience, would you?"
Soon, Felix and Simon joined the lobby.
"Sup, virgins," Simon said.
"Turn your mic on, Felix," Josh demanded.
Felix kept his mic off, typing in the chat instead:
Felix: Nah, I prefer to stay quiet in my room. Don't wanna wake my mom up. (─.─||）
"Aight, bro."
The game began.
Sol's character leaped at a lycanthrope, only to get grabbed and slammed into the ground.
"Oh shit, I'm about to die!" Sol panicked, eyes glued to the monitor.
"Fuck! Why are you always dying?" Simon snapped as his own character struggled against another lycanthrope.
Josh's character dashed in, slashing the beast pinning Sol down.
"It isn't that hard to defeat lycanthropes, man," Josh boasted, pride dripping from his voice.
"How many times have you played this game already?" Sol asked, disbelief coloring his tone. Josh's skills were unreal.
The boys played for hours until midnight, then decided on one last round. Just as they started, Felix typed in the chat:
Felix: Hey, watch what's happening outside...
"What? You go outside? Haha..." Simon mocked.
"Alright, boys, this is the last—what the fuck..." Josh's voice trailed off.
"What?... Hello?" Sol frowned, confused. He turned to his window.
What he saw shattered his thoughts.
The sky darkened, clouds swirling unnaturally. A cold wind howled, and a trumpet's blare echoed from the heavens.
Sol looked down—the city was gone.
Buildings flickered, glitching into brick houses straight out of the 18th century. A colossal castle erupted from the ground, its spires stabbing the sky, dwarfing even modern skyscrapers.
Sol snapped out of his daze and bolted downstairs. The world around him warped—cars glitched into horse-drawn carriages, pedestrians vanished. Only he remained.
Then, silence.
The chaos settled.
People in outdated clothing filled the streets—men in top hats, women in elegant dresses, fans fluttering. The air buzzed with chatter in a language Sol somehow understood.
This is absolute madness! What's happening? Where is everyone?
His school uniform drew stares. A woman whispered, "Is he from another country?"
Sol spun around—his apartment was now "Ale's Inn," its sign written in an archaic script he could inexplicably read.
He rushed inside. The interior had transformed—wooden beams, oil lamps, a stern man behind the counter.
Sol ignored him and sprinted upstairs.
"Hey!" the man barked.
Miraculously, the layout matched his old apartment. He burst into his room—his computer was gone, replaced by a handmade wooden bed and an antique cabinet.
He yanked it open—clothes from this era, neatly folded. He grabbed the fanciest outfit, threw it on, and snatched a pair of glasses from the desk just as the man barged in.
"Hey! Kid—" The man froze, staring at Sol's transformed appearance. The glasses and fine clothing threw him off.
"O-oh! Uh, apologies, sir!" The man bowed hastily.
"It's aight." Fuck!
"Pardon?"
"I said, no need. You may go." Sol waved dismissively.
"C-certainly!" The man scurried out.
These clothes must hold authority. The fabric was luxurious, likely belonging to someone wealthy or powerful.
Now, to figure out what happened.
Surprisingly, Sol felt calm—as if part of him had expected this.
What about my friends? Felix had noticed it first, then Josh. Simon had gone silent after he said a joke.
I have to find them.
Sol stepped back into the street, drawing curious glances. The world around him was a surreal blend of Victorian industry and medieval grandeur—steam trains, brick roads, towering factories belching smoke.
Then, amidst the crowd, a voice called:
"Sol!"