I woke up to screaming.
Not the "oops, overslept" kind. Full-on, people-are-about-to-die screaming, echoing down narrow cobblestone streets.
My head throbbed. The basketball shorts and T-shirt I'd been wearing before passing out were gone, replaced with dry, scratchy medieval-style clothes streaked with mud and dust. The rough fabric itched against my skin, loose on my arms, stiff on my legs. My body felt… wrong — longer, thinner, almost fragile. My face felt different too, softer and sharper in places I could sense, alien.
This isn't me.
The street stretched before me. Carts teetered dangerously, spilling apples and bread across cobblestones. Chickens flapped wildly, scratching at people's feet. Villagers shoved each other aside, some tripping over the mess. A dog yipped as it darted past, narrowly avoiding a rolling barrel. The smell of sweat, bread, manure, and blood made my stomach churn.
Villagers ran in all directions, mostly away from the commotion, some panicking blindly. Merchants tried to rescue their wares, baskets toppling over and rolling down the street. A cart tipped over, narrowly missing a small child who shrieked and scrambled into a puddle of mud. Guards were few and scattered — a pair shouting orders to no one in particular, unable to control the stampede.
Animals ran alongside the chaos — chickens, dogs, and a stray cat leaping atop carts for safety. Debris flew as carts tipped and collided, the occasional apple or loaf of bread bouncing off cobblestones.
Ryan POV
I woke up in a cart full of hay, the scent of straw and dust in my nose. My head throbbed. My arms and legs felt… wrong. Longer, thinner, almost fragile. My body felt alien, every movement awkward.
This isn't me.
I blinked, trying to remember how I got here. Yesterday, I'd been at Noah's house. We'd been reading that novel — the Thousand Blades. Me and my bro Noah had decided to reread a few chapters to figure out how we'd survive the novel… but we ended up reading all night, over 200 pages. And now, I had no idea which chapter this was.
I crouched behind the side of the cart, trying to make sense of the chaos. Villagers screamed, tripped over barrels, shoved chickens aside. Dogs barked, leaping over produce. Bread rolled across cobblestones. Everything felt strangely story-like… too precise, too familiar.
And then I saw a princess — no, a goddess — crouched across the street. Beautiful snowy-white hair, streaked with a little mud, posture tight, scanning the chaos. My pride as a man kicked in automatically. Seeing such beauty all alone during this chaos, I have to protect her… and maybe make her my first wife.
I jabbed at a rolling barrel instinctively. Missed. Rolled it into some poor baker's basket. He screamed. Sparks tingled faintly in my fingers — faint, uncontrolled magic. Absolutely useless, but fun.
I wish my bro Noah was here. He'd have helped me figure out what to do, shouted advice, reminded me about the novel… but right now, I only had vague familiarity. No chapters remembered. No idea which move to make.
I crouched lower, trying to think, trying to analyze, trying to figure out what the story might want me to do. Every instinct screamed to act… but I had no idea.
Noah POV
The armored man had not appeared in my part of the street yet. I only had chaos. Full, loud, messy chaos. People screamed. Merchants shouted. Carts teetered and spilled fruit. Dogs barked, chickens flapped, and a cat leapt atop a crate. The air smelled of bread, manure, sweat… and something metallic I didn't want to think about.
The figure across from me — Ryan, though I didn't know his name — jabbed at a barrel. Sparks fizzled, useless. I jabbed mine too. Missed.
A chicken flapped at my head. I swung. Missed. Hit Ryan instead. "Hey! Poultry combat!"
"Not ready!" he yelled.
We ducked under a low-hanging sign. Another cart teetered. Villagers screamed past. Sparks tingled faintly in my hands. Accidental magic. Dangerous.
We moved as a team instinctively — not friends, not allies yet, just two bodies reacting to the same threat. I tried to remember the novel I loved… only to realize I didn't remember anything useful either. Chapter one? Chapter two? None of it made sense here.
Ryan jabbed another barrel. "Fire! Yeah, fire!" Sparks fizzled again.
I groaned. "None of it matters."
A chicken landed on my shoulder. Bread rolled past my feet. The armored man's approach shook the street. Panic, instinct, and failed novel memory — somehow, we weren't dead yet.
We didn't exchange names. Didn't ask why we were here. Just reacted. Survived. And somewhere deep down, I knew this was only the beginning.