It was just another day in my dull routine, one more step in the long, dragging march toward something that might finally be interesting.
I was just another high-school graduate, transitioning to college where life would open up and I would get slammed with a little more freedom and a lot more responsibility.
But for the moment, at the beginning of my summer break, I had all about nothing much to do. Play video games with friends all night long, do a little studying here and there to keep the mind fresh. The usual boring day-to-day existence of a privileged individual living in a First World country.
That was the type of day I was having. Keyword being "was," after walking out of my local 7-11 with a twelve pack of Dr. Peppers, an actually decent-looking solar charger for my phone, and a ready-to-eat burger, my day suddenly got much more interesting.
Sitting down in the driver's seat of my old Toyota Camry, I suddenly had the urge to rub my eyes. Staring into my rear-view mirror, I was met with a tired gaze.
'Maybe I should start sleeping at a more normal time than 3 A.M.' The thought dragged itself through my skull as I finally gave in to the annoying pressure behind my eyes and rubbed at them with both hands.
When I opened them again, I wasn't in my car.
I was falling, ass first, onto grimy cobblestone in some unfamiliar alley.
"Goddamn! FUCK!"
Those were the first graceful words that exploded from my mouth, courtesy of the whiplash from floating in a seated position one second, to slamming into the filthy ground the next.
Now sprawled on the stones in the most undignified posture imaginable, I blinked at my surroundings in stunned silence.
'Where am I?'
'How the hell did I get here?'
At the mouth of the alley I was now sitting in, wagons rolled past pulled by hulking lizards-things that looked straight out of a Jurassic Park reboot.
That alone was enough to jolt me into motion. I scrambled to my feet and drifted closer, eyes glued to the bizarre scene framed perfectly by my grimy little alleyway window.
So of course, I tripped.
Caught on something behind me, I stumbled forward, nearly planting my face into what was very clearly a filthy puddle of piss.
The stench hit me like a slap. Nose wrinkling in protest, I recoiled and hissed through clenched teeth.
'Definitely piss. Fucking hell.'
Grumbling under my breath, I spun around, ready to glare daggers at whatever had decided to sabotage my already-shitty day.
What met my fiery gaze was… my twelve-pack of Dr. Pepper.
Still intact, still unassuming, except for the strange black box perched neatly on top.
"I don't remember carrying that," I muttered, trudging over to the dastardly drinks and plucking the mystery item from its throne of carbonation.
The box was small, matte black, with faint gold embellishments curling across its surface. Classy. Fancy. Suspicious.
And definitely not mine.
I tilted my head, squinting at it like it might explain itself. It looked like something you'd keep a ring in, like for those cliché declarations of love, or something equally sentimental. Not the sort of thing you'd expect to find sitting on a soda pack in a piss-scented alley.
I glanced around, half-expecting someone to step out and yell, "Hey! Hands off!"
Nothing. Just me and the strange crowd walking by in the distance.
'Eh fuck it. Finder's keepers.'
With that internal declaration of ownership, a grin crept onto my face as I pulled the lid off of my mysterious gift.
What met my greedy, intense stare was something that gave me immediate pause.
Inside the box, a writhing, dark purple blob squirmed like something half-alive, its shape shifting and pulsing in a way that made my skin crawl. A chill ran up my spine, sweat pricked at the back of my neck, and my heartbeat quickened. Every instinct screamed that this thing was wrong. The instant I saw it, my first instinct was to chuck the thing into the piss-stained depths of this back-alley nightmare and be done with it.
But then, it stopped.
Completely still.
Like it had noticed me.
"Uh," I said, with the eloquence of a man facing an eldritch horror before lunch.
Before I could so much as blink, the thing launched itself out of the box like a heat-seeking missile, straight into my chest.
"OH FUCK!"
I stumbled back, dropping the box as panic hit me like a freight train. Whatever calm I'd managed to hold onto up until now shattered instantly.
The blob didn't bounce off.
It just… phased straight through me, like I was made of smoke.
Hands flying, I ripped my black hoodie up over my head, frantic to see if it had burned a hole through me.
Then the world suddenly shifted.
Colors bled, hues warped, fading, brightening, collapsing into something far too vivid to be real.
And then came the pain.
A reality-shattering blaze tore through my skull, drilling into my heart like I was being split apart at the seams.
No warning. No build-up. Just agony.
My body screamed to move, to claw at my head, to do something, but I couldn't.
I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't scream.
All I knew was pain. Fear. Desperation.
And then, nothing.
In the void that followed, only three phrases remained, forcefully chiseled into my very soul:
The Authority of Pride.
Reason and Judgement.
Indomitable.
In an instant, the moment was over.
The world continued.
Sound crept back in like a distant wave.
I collapsed to my knees, eyes wide, chest heaving, barely seeing, barely present.
"What the fuck just happened?"
My voice was a hoarse rasp. "What did that blob do to me? The Authority of Pride? A title and two powers?"
I don't normally talk to myself aloud.
I find it kind of pathetic, honestly.
But right now? I couldn't give less of a shit about social norms.
"What the hell is going on…" I whispered, shaking.
"I need to get the fuck out of this alley."
Clinging to the tatters of logic like a drowning man to driftwood, I tugged my half-removed hoodie back over my head, shoved the cursed little box into my pocket, and grabbed the ever-faithful twelve-pack.
Then, like a man rising from his own grave, I shuffled toward the mouth of the alley, less human being, more walking corpse.
Beyond the alley, the world stretched out in a surreal tapestry of stone and movement.
People passed by without a second glance. Dressed in medieval garb, tunics, cloaks, leather belts, and armor, they looked like background actors from a historical drama. Only this wasn't a set, and I sure as hell hadn't signed a waiver.
'Either I've stumbled onto the most elaborate Renaissance fair in history, or… I'm not on Earth anymore.'
The second option clung to my mind like a wet cloth, uncomfortable, suffocating, and impossible to shake. Every little detail confirmed it: the cobbled roads, the scent of livestock and baked bread in the air, the clatter of hooves and wagon wheels pulled by massive reptilian beasts, like Komodo dragons hit with the "make it thirty-times-bigger" button.
And then I noticed them, amidst the crowd of normal people, were people who weren't entirely people.
A woman with feline ears and a long, spotted tail passed by, a basket of fruit balanced effortlessly under one arm.
A towering dog-man followed, shoulders broad and furred, lugging a greatsword so massive it looked ripped straight from an Elden Ring Colossal Swords category, the kind of blade you swing once, and half the room comes down with it.
Further down, a trio of small, gray-furred cat kids zipped past, laughing with high-pitched, mischievous squeals as they ducked into an alley, one of them clutching a stolen apple like it was treasure.
I stared, slack-jawed.
Demi-humans.
Literal half-animal, half-human hybrids just walking around like it was normal. Because, apparently, it was.
I stayed put for a while, lingering in the alley's shadow, watching.
Analyzing.
The crowd moved with rhythm, not chaos, but a practiced sort of order. Merchants barked out prices. Children weaved between legs. A woman balanced a basket on her head with the poise of someone who'd done it every day of her life. None of them looked confused. Or digital. Or out of place.
Just me.
And then something clicked.
I could understand them.
The merchants shouting about discounts, the mothers scolding their kids, even the muttered complaints of a lizard-person grumbling about wagon traffic, I heard it all. Not gibberish, not some fantasy language. Words. Clear, fluent words. In a language I had no business knowing.
My stomach turned.
'That thing… it did something to me.'
The thought wormed through my skull like ice water. I didn't have time to process it, nor did I really want to.
After a moment, I spotted a break in the foot traffic and stepped in, shoulders hunched, head low, clutching my hoodie and my soda like lifelines.
And just like that, I was swallowed whole. Another face in the tide.
I drifted through the streets, doing my best impression of someone who belonged here, shoulders hunched, eyes scanning, every step echoing the fact that I absolutely didn't.
Stone roads clacked beneath boots and wagon wheels, polished smooth by generations of footsteps. The early morning sun drenched everything in a warm, golden glow, bouncing off tiled rooftops and clean white walls like the city was trying to show off.
Vendors barked from crowded stalls, hawking fruits, spices, and trinkets that made my brain itch with questions. Kids weaved through cloaked travelers and armored guards, their laughter rising above the lizard-drawn wagons clattering down the street.
The city moved like a living organism, steady, practiced, indifferent to my presence.
Somewhere between distracted and numb, I turned to glance at a storefront, and my stomach dropped.
The sign above it was utterly unreadable. Its script wasn't English, or anything close. It looked close to some Asian scripts from Earth, but I was no expert.
'So... I can understand what they say, but not what they write? Great. That's super helpful.'
I tried to pass it off as a joke, but the weight of it pressed down.
No rules. No translation system. No tutorial pop-up.
Just me, walking blind in a world that didn't care I had no idea what I was doing.
People still threw me glances, some curious, some cautious. The hoodie. The soda. The expression of someone barely keeping it together.
I pushed forward anyway.
Turning a corner, I found a plaza nestled between stone buildings, centered around a wide, circular fountain. Water spilled lazily from the mouth of a dragon-headed spout, and benches wrapped the edge like an open invitation.
It was peaceful. Ordinary, even. The kind of quiet I desperately needed.
Then I looked up.
The castle.
It towered above the city from a hilltop perch, its white walls and elegant spires rising like something out of a painting. Not oppressive, just... grand. Majestic. A centerpiece to the entire skyline, gleaming in the sun like it was proud of itself.
If someone had asked me to picture "fantasy royalty," this was pretty much it.
'Okay... that's kind of beautiful, actually.'
'That's probably the royal castle. Or at least some important government building. If I'm thinking of fantasy clichés, shouldn't I have been summoned there?'
But seeing as I'd popped into existence in a piss-scented alley and nobody had come looking for me, I figured I wasn't exactly a VIP guest.
Finally resting my sore ass on the fountain's surprisingly comfortable stone bench, I let out a long, exhausted sigh.
'This is not how I expected my day to go.'
Slumping forward, I found myself slipping into old habits. My fingers rose to my bangs without thinking, the same nervous tic that always surfaced when I was overwhelmed and alone.
What I felt, and then saw, did absolutely nothing to improve my mental state.
My hair, once a solid dark brown, was now white.
Not just "a few stress streaks," white.
I'm talking full-blown, silver fox in his seventies, but weirdly not balding white.
Eyes wide, I yanked my hand away and leaned over the fountain to check my reflection in the rippling water. What stared back at me confirmed the worst: white eyebrows. White hair.[1]
Perfect.
'This day just keeps getting better, doesn't it?'
Once again, I plopped down on the bench, utterly overwhelmed, mentally, emotionally, maybe even spiritually.
Thankfully, that's when the universe finally threw me a lifeline.
It came in the form of gasps and hushed whispers that rippled across the plaza, snapping me out of my daze. I glanced up and realized every pair of eyes was now on me. Or rather, on the man walking straight toward me.
He stood out immediately.
With striking red hair and a confident, almost regal posture, the man wore a white-trimmed uniform that gleamed in the sun. It was the same outfit I'd glimpsed earlier on others, but on him, it looked like it belonged, like the fabric had been tailored for someone born to wear it.
A massive sword rested at his side, casual as if it weighed nothing. Its white scabbard with gold inlays glinted faintly, the pommel shaped like a spear tip, a strange but unmistakably purposeful design.
The moment he stepped into the plaza, the air seemed to change. People quieted. The crowd parted like a tide, instinctively respectful or wary, maybe both. It was clear he wasn't just anyone.
Then his eyes met mine.
"Excuse me, sir. I couldn't help but notice you seemed rather distraught. Are you alright?"
His voice was calm and warm, like stepping into sunlight after a cold wind. The concern in it strangely genuine.
My thoughts scrambled. 'Why is this guy talking to me? Is this normal here? Did someone report me because I look upset?'
"Ah, sorry," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "Didn't mean to bring down the public mood or anything. Just... rough day, you know?"
To my surprise, he smiled.
"You're not in any trouble. I was simply concerned. My name is Reinhard van Astrea. Might I have the pleasure of learning yours?"
My eyebrows rose. The name didn't mean much, but his bearing certainly did. He radiated calm and polish, but not arrogance. Still, it threw me off how easily he spoke, how gently.
"Ethan Caldwell. Pleasure to meet you, Reinhard."
I stood and offered a hand, unsure if that was a social faux pas or not, but figuring that at this point, etiquette could take a number and wait in line behind "entirely new world" and "magic blob went into my chest and made me feel like dying."
He hesitated a moment, then took it. His eyes widened slightly, not offended, just surprised.
Momentarily caught off guard, Reinhard blinked.
Few people ever approached him so plainly, without hesitation or deference. But this Ethan? There was no performance in his voice, no calculation, only sincerity.
He accepted the handshake, noting its awkward honesty.
And then the Divine Protection of Empathy stirred.
As their hands touched, a silent current moved through him. Intent. Emotion. The quiet pull of another soul.
Caution wrapped in confusion. A mind clouded but trying. A heart that meant well.
There was something else too, a subtle pull on his divine protections, like ripples touching the edge of still water. Not enough to warn him, but enough to mark the encounter as important.
I caught him watching me for a beat longer than normal, like I was being examined under some lens only he could see.
But then he smiled again, calm and reassuring.
"Thank you, Ethan. It's truly a pleasure."
The crowd, finally realizing nothing dramatic was happening, slowly resumed their business, returning to casual chatter and strolls beneath the sunlit plaza. Still, a few lingered, sneaking glances at the red-haired man now standing beside me.
With introductions complete, Reinhard spoke again, voice calm, steady.
"Is there any way I could assist you? I am a Royal Knight of Lugunica, after all. It would be both my duty and my honor."
'Name of the city or country finally obtained: Lugunica. Check.'
I glanced at him again, absorbing the genuine warmth practically radiating from him. There wasn't a trace of deceit in his expression, and while a part of me screamed to stay cautious, another part, maybe the desperate, exhausted one, wanted to believe he was exactly what he seemed.
There was also that strange pressure behind his words. Like some invisible force was coaxing me to trust him. A feeling of comfort that brushed against my mind and whispered You're safe.
Like maybe… just maybe, he wouldn't have me dissected if I asked for help and told him what I really was.
'God, I hope he's not just a master-class actor.'
I met his eyes and exhaled.
"Well, Reinhard... I seem to be in a bit of a situation."
I paused.
Then laid it all out.
"I'm not from this world. I was just minding my own business when I blinked and suddenly found myself in a filthy alley. I've got no possessions beyond what I'm wearing, no clue where I am, except for the name you just gave me, and no idea where I'll be staying tonight. Oh, and just for fun, there was this weird black box with a squirming purple blob that launched itself into my chest and gave me what I can only describe as a brain-melting death vision."
I spread my arms with a dry smile.
"All in all? Pretty bad day."
Reinhard's brow furrowed as I spoke, his expression shifting from concern to something closer to sorrow. When I finished, he hesitated, then asked softly:
"That sounds… terrible. Are you truly saying you come from beyond the Great Waterfall?"
I tilted my head. "The Great Waterfall? I mean, I don't know what that is, but if that's your poetic way of saying 'another world,' then yeah. That's me."
His eyes widened slightly at my confirmation.
Then he nodded, thoughtful.
"I believe you. I carry the Divine Protection of Wind Reading; it allows me to sense the truth in spoken words."
'Wait, so he's a walking lie detector? Divine Protections? Man…'
A pause. His gaze drifted downward, thoughtful again.
"You mentioned a strange blob… and a box?"
Only then did I remember I still had the damn thing.
"Right, hang on." I reached into my hoodie pocket and pulled it out. "Here. It was inside this. Popped out, dove into my chest like a heat-seeking parasite, and left me with white hair and a killer migraine."
He took the box from my hands, slowly, delicately. His fingers brushed across its surface, expression darkening.
There was recognition in his eyes. And discomfort.
"I have some ideas about what this could be..." he said, trailing off before looking back at me.
A moment passed. Something settled in his posture.
Then Reinhard smiled, gently, like he'd reached a decision.
He extended his hand again, not just in greeting this time, but as an offer.
"How would you like to come stay with me? I can provide a place to rest, while you find your footing in this world."
Reinhard studied the young man carefully, hand still outstretched.
Most people flinched in his presence. Bowed. Chose their words with fear or reverence.
But Ethan? He spoke with tired honesty. No flattery, no mask. Just raw sincerity.
It was disarming. And rare.
Reinhard could justify it, of course. Ethan was displaced, touched by something powerful. Bringing him home made sense.
But beneath all that, something simpler stirred: loneliness.
A soft ache Reinhard never spoke of, buried beneath duty and expectation. It had lived in him for years. Friends were few. Equals, fewer. And people who looked at him like a man, not a symbol?
Almost none.
But Ethan had.
Maybe… maybe he wouldn't see "the Sword Saint."Maybe he'd just see Reinhard.
That hope was enough.
He smiled, not as a knight, but as himself.
I stared at the hand he offered and considered what he had said.
As kind as Reinhard had been, I still couldn't bring myself to just accept outright. I mean, I'd basically handed him a checklist labeled "Otherworlder 101," and he could haul me off to whatever dungeon or lab he wanted if he felt like it.
So really… yeah, maybe I was a fool.
Still, I had to ask.
I met his eyes. "What do you get out of helping me?"
He didn't flinch. No offense taken, just a quiet shake of the head.
"Nothing immediate," he said. "But I can sense something in you. Not just through my divine protections, though they do stir, but in the way you carry yourself. I believe you could grow into someone this kingdom needs. If you'd allow it, I'd like to help train you. And maybe… in return, you'd tell me a bit about your world. I've always wondered what lies beyond the Great Waterfall."
It wasn't charity. It was honest. Balanced. He saw something in me, and that made it easier to accept.
I took his hand again, this time with a real smile. Brighter. Warmer.
"Thanks, Rein. Seriously. I'd be totally lost without you."
He broke into a grin at the nickname, and something in my chest eased, tension I hadn't even realized I'd been carrying.
He tapped a finger to his chin, thoughtful. "We'll need to stop by a guard station. I should let the captain know I'm cutting my patrol short."
My eyes widened. "Ah, you really don't have to do that! I can wait here, or just wander until you're done."
He tilted his head, studying me like he was gauging whether I'd get abducted by a passing merchant caravan or fall into a sewer grate. "It's no trouble. If I'm needed urgently, they'll reach me through a Conversation Mirror."
And just like that, he turned and walked off.
I stood frozen a second, still catching up, before he looked back and motioned for me to follow.
I sighed and jogged after him.
The guard station wasn't far, five minutes, tops. I waited outside while a pair of armor-clad knights flanked the doors, silent and motionless. Full-face helms hid their expressions, but I felt their eyes all the same.
A few minutes later, the heavy door creaked open, and Reinhard stepped out into the sun. The knights saluted with a clang of metal fists to breastplates. Reinhard answered with a respectful nod and that same easy smile.
"I hope I didn't keep you waiting long, Ethan?"
Still slightly stunned by how impossibly polite he was, I just smiled. "Not at all, Rein. You good to go?"
He blinked, as if surprised I'd even asked, then nodded. "Yes. Let's head to the Astrea estate."
I nodded back, and together, we started walking, side by side through cobbled streets bathed in morning light.
For the first time since arriving in this world, I felt something solid under my feet.
I had a friend, or at least a companion. A path to walk on.
And with that, something to tether myself to, so I didn't slip into the abyss.
We walked in comfortable silence, the cobbled streets stretching ahead as sunlight filtered through high stone archways and trailing vines. The hum of daily life filled the quiet as I simply took in the sights, vendors calling out prices, wheels creaking over uneven stone, distant bells marking the hour.
To our left, a little girl with blond hair ran out from a stall, her tiny boots slapping against the stone. Her father caught her mid-charge, lifting her high into the air with a laugh that echoed down the street. The girl squealed, kicking her feet with delight, and the mother clapped joyfully from the stall's doorway.
I smiled without meaning to.
And then I tripped.
My foot caught on a loose stone, and I lurched forward, barely catching myself before becoming street-pavement art.
Reinhard reacted instantly, hand half-raised, concern etched across his face before he could school it.
I straightened up quickly, brushing my sleeve like it hadn't happened, and offered him a sheepish smile.
"I'm good. Just... not used to fantasy paving work."
He chuckled lightly, but the worry in his eyes lingered a moment longer before he nodded and kept walking.
I fell back into step beside him, but the smile faded quickly from my lips.
'I can do this.'
I repeated it in my head like a mantra. Quiet. Firm. Desperate.
Because just seeing that family, just that one perfect little moment, had been enough to tear open something I'd buried under exhaustion and adrenaline.
'I might never see my parents again. '
Never hear my dad complain about politics. Never catch my mom humming in the kitchen.
And that thought hurt more than I could afford to let show.
[1] Imagine a kinder Regulus. One who doesn't scream about his rights every two seconds, that's what Ethan looks like. I'm very creative!