Arthur had just turned twenty-one and was in the final year of his History degree, specializing in Teaching and Research. He loved three things above all else: hiking, camping, and losing himself in fantasy stories of every kind—from Tolkien and Lewis to webnovels and comics, anything he could get his hands on.
The morning after his birthday, he left home for the bakery, eyes glued to the latest chapter of one of his favorite series. He was halfway across the crosswalk when a car sped through the red light and struck him.
"Arthur, welcome to the crossroads. You have two choices," a terrifying being intoned as it loomed before him.
"Choice number one: you will sleep until the end of days, and awaken to face the judgment of humanity."
As it spoke, a vision unfolded behind it—Arthur lying in timeless slumber, then rising before a vast white throne, where countless souls awaited their fate.
"Or," the being continued, its voice reverberating like thunder, "you may be sent as you were before your death, into another world. There, you will live—and write a better story upon your page in the Book of Deeds."
This time, the vision was hazy and indistinct, shadows of possibilities dancing in the air, less clear than the certainty of the first option.
Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but before any sound could leave him, the being's presence pressed down like a mountain.
"I see you have chosen the second option," The Power declared, its words reverberating through the void. "So may He bless your journey… through the world of the Fools."
Before Arthur could question or protest, the visions behind the angel shattered into blinding light, and the crossroads dissolved around him.
Arthur opened his eyes—something he had thought he would never do again. He felt the soft yet prickly grass beneath him and smelled the scent he loved so much: a wild garden after rain. Nearby, he could hear the rush of a fast-flowing river. Before him stretched the clearest, most beautiful sunrise he had ever seen, painting the untouched nature that covered the hills and valleys in the distance.
As he took in his surroundings, Arthur noticed a small dirt road running near the river, maybe half a kilometer (a third of a mile) away. Along it, he could see people walking and riding. Having read enough isekai stories, he immediately thought to check whether he had been sent here with some kind of gift or system.
After half an hour of the most embarrassing poses and phrases he had ever attempted, Arthur finally admitted defeat: he had nothing. Nada. No gifts, no system—nothing.
As he walked toward the road, redder than he had ever been in his life—even more than during the infamous high-school pantsing incident—he thought hopefully, at least no one saw me.
On the road, a young-looking elf was holding himself upright by hugging a young orc, laughing so hard that tears streamed down his face. Between chortles and snorts, he tried to describe what he was seeing to his friends.
About five minutes later, Arthur reached the dirt road—a mediocre time for just five hundred meters. There, the elf and his party were waiting for him: an orc, a dwarf, a human, a tiger humanoid, and a very strange human woman. The woman had cat-like eyes, reminiscent of a witcher, and she fixed him with a chuckling gaze.
"So," she said, her voice teasing, "how did you die?"
"Run over by a car at a red light," Arthur answered. "How did yo—"
"How did I know?" the woman interrupted, a mischievous smile on her face. "Only the ones that He sends here—and are gender-savvy—do what you did. None so—"
"Shameless," the orc helpfully added.
"Yes, none so shameless… or for so long," the woman finished.
"So funny," the elf chimed in, "and I thought that doctor in the Dwarven Overcity was funny."
Arthur felt the last nail driven into the coffin of his pride.
"Look, a distraction!" Arthur shouted, pointing at a random spot.
"Don't fall for it, Gorth, there's nothing there," the dwarf said before the orc could move in the direction Arthur indicated.
"He's just trying anything to draw attention away from his antics," the elf added. "I would have seen it, Theo would've heard it, and the Ladyship would have felt it somehow. Even your senses are better than a human's, Gorth."
The elf then pointed at himself, the tiger humanoid, and finally the cat-eyed woman, emphasizing his point.
"So… no explanations to the very confused newcomer?" Arthur asked.
"My name is Drath Avarth Greenbeard, the healer of the team," said the dwarf—though he had no green beard, just a normal pepper-colored beard and hair.
"My name is Greenleaf. No, it isn't my true name, but it's easier for your ears than attempting my real one. I'm the paladin of the team," said the tall, extremely thin elf, who also happened to be the tank.
"Gorth, I'm a painter," the orc said simply.
"Theo—also not my true name, just the same meaning: 'Gift.' Immortal of the Berserker Path," said the tiger humanoid. At 213 cm, he was the tallest of the group, with arms as large as the elf's torso.
"My name is Eliot, wizard of the Mage Path," said the human, whose face was the most forgettable Arthur had ever seen.
"And my name is Mach Lady Helena Borgona Alexander, Imperial of Human Stock, Battlemaster of the Warrior Path, and leader of this party," the woman with cat-like eyes declared, her voice carrying authority and just a hint of amusement.
"March Lady, as in the old title of the Marquess?" Arthur asked.
"Yes, March Lady of the Empire," the noblewoman replied.
"What do you want to do, recently dead, that still hasn't introduced himself?" Gorth asked.
"Sorry, my name is Arthur Pen Dragon," Arthur answered. "My father was an Arthurian nerd and didn't give me his family name—only so I could have the Name of the Once and Future King. And I have no idea what I'm supposed to do. If I had a system or something like it, maybe I'd know. The thing that sent me here called this place the World of Fools… if that helps."
"To the closest guildhall of the Fools of Avalon, then," said the elf, pointing the way.