The floor was cold. Not like "kitchen tile" cold — this was real stone. Dirty. Rough. Like some broke medieval basement or somethin'.
Malik opened his eyes. His mouth was dry, throat scratchy, and most of all — he was hungry.
— "Yo… where the hell am I?"
He pushed himself up slowly, palms on the sketchy stone. His Casio still blinkin', his white Air Force 1s covered in dust, and his grey Nike Tech had a weird white stain on it.
— "This can't be real. I was chillin' with the homies, had my sweet tea, passed out after a big-ass fried chicken plate…"
He turned his head. Wooden buildings. People dressed like it was some medieval cosplay convention. Merchants yelling in a language he didn't know — and not a single e-scooter in sight.
Malik stood up, hand over his chest.
— "If this is some hidden camera prank… I swear, I'm not in the mood. I didn't sign up for this shit."
A guy bumped into him. Malik spun around quick.
— "Yo! Watch where you walkin', bro!"
The dude — looked like some NPC from a broke fantasy game — shot him a scared look and dipped out fast.
— "Yeah, that's what I thought... better run."
He kept walking, scanning the street. Looking for something. A Macdonald. A bus stop. A Wi-Fi sign. Anything familiar.
Then, outta nowhere — a scream echoed.
— "THIEF! MY MAIDEN IS IN DANGER!"
Malik blinked.
— "I ain't catch all that but I heard 'maiden'. Might be somethin' goin' down."
And just like that, Malik from the South Bronx — aka the O.G. — began his legend in another world.
A world of knights, magic, and witches…
But he only had one goal in mind:
— "Find a bed, a baddie, and some chicken. In that order."
He walked for what felt like a whole damn day. Or at least a never-ending struggle.
No signal. No Macdonald. No Insta.
Just cobblestone streets, wooden buildings, and people walkin' around in bathrobes like it was normal.
— "Yo, what is this place? Looks like Colonial Williamsburg got hacked by Elden Ring or some sh*t."
He passed a dude in armor.
The guy was carrying a horse.
Like, on his shoulder.
Malik froze. Stared at the man. Then looked at his own arms.
— "Aight... there's mutants here. Bet. But yo, I ain't soft neither. I did two years of lifting at the rec center… Okay like... six months, then I fell off. But still. I got some size."
He stopped at a fountain.
Splashed his face. Wiped off with his sleeve.
— "Okay, think... maybe this is one of them isekai joints. Like Goku on Namek type beat. Maybe I got powers. You never know, Malik. Maybe you got that ki in you."
He stepped back. Took a stance. Closed his eyes.
— "HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH—!!"
Two pigeons flapped off, offended.
A dude stopped and stared at him.
Malik cracked one eye open.
"What? You never seen a man power up his chakra before?"
The guy dipped instantly, picked up the pace.
Malik exhaled, slow.
He reached into his sweatpants pocket, fingers brushing against something familiar.
His blade.
A good ol' butterfly knife—rusty, scratched up, bought from some dude outside Fordham—but it never let him down.
"I might not got superpowers, but I ain't walkin' around naked either.
If sh*t pops off, I'm slicin' my way through it. Ain't lettin' no damn elf punk me."
And that's when he saw her.
He raised his head—froze.
A girl.
Not just a girl.
Something else.
Silver hair. Long coat, drippin' in soft purple.
She moved like a dream.
Graceful, outta place, untouched by the noise around her.
Malik blinked.
Watched her glide past the fountain, like she didn't even notice the world watching.
Mouth slightly open, he whispered,
"Damn… what are you?"
He had a reflex—wiped his face with his sleeve, fixed his collar, gave himself a quick sniff.
"Damn, she fine… I gotta talk to her. Come on, bro, this might be your destiny girl right here."
He took one step—
Then froze.
"Or not. Nah. She way too fine.
That's princess-level fine… probably speaks some ancient Elvish poetry sh*t.
I ain't ready for that. Not today."
He watched her walk away.
Didn't move.
Then let out a soft sigh, hand on his chest.
"If it's destiny… we'll cross paths again. God willing."
Time Skip
The sun was setting over the city.
That orange glow laying soft on crooked rooftops and stone streets.
The air had that chill—like fall sliding in after summer.
Malik kept walking, hands deep in his hoodie, caught somewhere between "whatever" and "yo this kinda beautiful."
"Damn… sky lookin' like one of them beach movie posters."
He stopped in front of a wall, tagged up with some weird-ass ancient symbol.
Stared at it for a bit. Then nodded.
"Yo… the boys would love this place.
Picture this: Jamal with a bow, Mike rockin' black magic, Daren slangin' weird herbs like a street wizard.
We'd rebuild the whole block right here, man.
No cops, no court dates, no probation meetings.
Just us, the hustle… and some enchanted swords."
He chuckled to himself, soft and real.
"We'd run this joint, easy. All them dudes in robes? Nah, they wouldn't stand a chance.
Even that elf chick — pretty sure she'd vibe with us.
Picture it: fried chicken, a big ol' cup of sweet tea, and a freestyle battle in front of the castle gates...
Man, I swear, this world? It was made for us."
He stopped in front of a busted-up old shack.
No door. Just a patch of shade, good enough to sit and post up for a minute.
He let out a sigh.
"Hope the homies landed here too…
Tarek, Nass, Bilal… If y'all out here somewhere, I swear — we takin' this world over."
He pulled out his phone — just for the ritual.
No signal. No bars. No hope.
He slid it back in his pocket.
Laid down slowly, head resting on his crossbody bag.
"Aight… Tomorrow, I find some food, a bed, and a baddie. In that order."
He closed his eyes for just a second.
Then — shouts in the distance.
Fast footsteps. Chaos.
A girl's voice, sharp and scared, cutting through the street.
Malik opened his eyes.
Sat up, slow but alert.
A flash of silver hair. Purple cloak. Just turned the corner.
He squinted.
"Wait… Ain't that the shawty from earlier?
The one by the fountain?"
He stood. Paused.
"She lookin' mad stressed… Something's up.
Yo, maybe I can step in. Might be my time to shine."
He pulled up his hood. Adjusted it.
Started walking, low-key, smooth.
Direction: that shady-lookin' tavern
Author's NoteYo, it's the author here!Here's the first chapter of this fanfiction. Arc 1 will properly begin this Monday, so get ready!If you're enjoying the vibe so far, feel free to drop a comment or a like — it costs nothing and means a lot.See you Monday, same time!
+ For French speakers:I'm also posting the French version of this story on Wattpad, under the title "Re:Zone – Younes L'ancien du Quartier