In a space that stretched beyond the limits of imagination, white light danced across endless horizons. There were no walls, no ceiling, no floor—just pure, brilliant emptiness that somehow felt more real than reality itself. In the center of this vast expanse sat a man in a simple wooden chair, looking oddly ordinary for someone who commanded such an extraordinary realm.
The man held a mirror in his hands, its surface gleaming like liquid silver. But this was no ordinary reflection—within its depths spun a massive globe, rotating slowly to reveal continents, oceans, and lands that defied earthly logic. Mountain ranges that pierced the clouds, forests that glowed with their own inner light, and deserts where the sand sparkled like crushed diamonds.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" the man whispered to himself, his voice carrying a weight that could move worlds. This was Phiohr, and the spinning planet in his mirror was his greatest creation—Istea.
He tapped the mirror's edge, and the view zoomed closer. Now he could see the intricate details that made his world special: the Elven cities built into living trees that grew as tall as mountains, the Dwarven kingdoms carved deep into crystal caverns, and the Human settlements that dotted the landscape like scattered jewels. Dragons soared through painted skies while unicorns grazed in meadows where the grass sang lullabies.
"Lord Phiohr?" A tiny voice broke his concentration.
He looked up to see a small figure hovering nearby—no taller than his hand, with delicate golden wings that caught the endless light. Zumi, his faithful companion, wore an expression that made her usually bright features look troubled.
"What is it, Zumi?" Phiohr asked, though he already knew the answer would darken his mood.
"Sir, we need to talk about... the situation." She fluttered closer, her wings beating rapidly with anxiety. "There's no more time to wait. At most, we have a decade left, and then..." She couldn't finish the sentence.
Phiohr's shoulders sagged as he set the mirror in his lap. "I know, little one. Believe me, I know."
The danger she spoke of was real—a cosmic threat that devoured worlds like a hungry beast. Across the universe, other realms prepared for war, building armies and weapons that could shatter stars. But Istea? His beautiful, peaceful Istea had been designed differently.
"You created a world of wonder, not war," Zumi said gently, reading his thoughts. "The people of Istea know joy, art, discovery... but not the kind of fighting that's coming."
"That was the point!" Phiohr stood up, pacing across the white void. "I was tired of watching worlds tear themselves apart. I wanted something pure, something... innocent."
"And it is beautiful, my lord. The way the Mer-folk sing to heal wounded sea creatures, how the Beast-men protect the ancient forests, the way humans build bridges instead of walls..." Zumi's voice grew fond. "But beautiful things are fragile."
Phiohr ran his hands through his hair. "I've tried everything, Zumi. First, I gave special abilities to some of the races—the Elves received enhanced magic, the Dwarves got unbreakable crafting skills, the Dragons became nearly immortal..."
"That helped," Zumi agreed. "But not enough."
"Then I tried the Visitors." Phiohr's voice grew frustrated. "I pulled souls from other worlds, people who had lived through wars and hardship. Some became great heroes—there's that knight from medieval Earth who united three kingdoms, and the samurai who founded the Warrior's Path Academy..."
"Lord Phiohr, I've seen their futures in the mirror," Zumi said softly. "Even your greatest heroes... they won't be enough. Some will fall before the real battle even begins."
Phiohr slumped back into his chair. "Then I created the game."
"IRO," Zumi nodded. "Infinite Realms Online. You spread it across all of time and space, hoping to find warriors who could learn your world and eventually join it."
"Millions played it," Phiohr said bitterly. "Millions! But they all saw it as just entertainment. None of them understood what Istea truly needed. They were too focused on leveling up and collecting rare items to see the bigger picture."
"Until now," Zumi said, hovering closer to the mirror.
Phiohr looked down at the silvery surface, which now showed something different—not his world, but Earth. Specifically, a cluttered bedroom where a sixteen-year-old boy sat hunched over a computer, his fingers flying across the keyboard.
Michel Hein didn't look like much—thin, pale from too much time indoors, with messy hair that clearly hadn't seen a comb in days. Empty pizza boxes and energy drink cans littered his desk.
"He's just a kid, Zumi," Phiohr said doubtfully.
"A kid who just completed the Eternal Labyrinth quest," Zumi pointed out.
Phiohr blinked. "That's... impossible. I designed that quest myself. It requires perfect understanding of every game mechanic, plus the ability to think seventeen steps ahead..."
"And he finished it in six hours," Zumi added with a tiny smile. "Your mirror nearly cracked from the achievement notification."
On the screen, they watched Michel lean back in his chair, grinning at his computer. The boy had no idea he'd just done something that should have been impossible.
"Look at his play style," Zumi continued, zooming in on Michel's game statistics. "He doesn't just fight enemies—he studies them. He learns their patterns, their weaknesses, their habits. When other players rush in swinging swords, he sits back and watches. He thinks."
"And he's helped more new players than anyone else on the server," Phiohr noted, scanning through Michel's chat logs. "He actually enjoys teaching people the game."
"Plus," Zumi grinned, "he's the only player who's ever tried to romance the Tavern Keep NPC. That shows either dedication or complete social awkwardness."
Despite everything, Phiohr laughed. "Probably both." His expression grew serious again. "But Zumi, he's sixteen. Just a child with his whole life ahead of him. How can I ask him to—"
"My lord," Zumi interrupted gently. "What happens to his whole life if the cosmos gets devoured?"
Phiohr fell silent. She was right, of course. If the approaching danger succeeded, it wouldn't just destroy Istea—it would consume everything, including Earth and every other world in its path.
"He's the one," Phiohr said finally, his voice heavy with decision.
"Are you sure?"
"No," Phiohr admitted. "But I'm out of options and almost out of time. And something about this boy..." He watched Michel help yet another new player understand a complicated quest. "He has the heart for it."
Phiohr waved his hand, and magical documents appeared in the air—a contract written in flowing script that seemed to shift between languages.
"You know the rules," Zumi said as Phiohr began writing. "Even as a god, you cannot simply take a soul. He has to choose."
"I know." Phiohr's pen moved quickly across the mystical paper. "That's why this has to be very, very convincing."
The contract took shape: congratulations for completing an impossible hidden quest, an invitation to work on a new project with the game's developers, promises of benefits that couldn't be revealed until after signing...
"That's technically lying," Zumi pointed out.
"It's creative truth," Phiohr corrected. "He did complete an impossible quest. He will be working on a new project. And the benefits really can't be revealed beforehand because he'd think I was insane."
"Fair points." Zumi watched him seal the contract with divine energy. "What are you not telling him?"
Phiohr paused. "That he'll be more than just another Visitor. I'm making him my Champion, my direct representative in Istea. He'll carry a piece of my divine power."
"That's a huge responsibility for anyone, let alone a sixteen-year-old."
"Which is why I'm also giving him something no one else has ever received." Phiohr's eyes glowed with power as he added special text to the contract. "A second chance. And a third. As many as it takes."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that if Michel dies in Istea, he won't stay dead. He'll return, stronger than before, with all his memories intact. Again and again until he succeeds... or chooses to give up."
Zumi's tiny mouth fell open. "My lord, that kind of magic... it will cost you enormous amounts of power. You could weaken yourself beyond recovery."
"Then so be it." Phiohr sealed the contract and sent it shooting toward Earth like a golden comet. "I've spent eons building Istea. I won't let it die without a fight."
They watched the contract appear on Michel's computer screen. The boy read it quickly, his eyes widening with excitement.
"Benefits that can't be revealed?" Michel muttered to his empty room. "New project with the developers? This sounds too good to be true..."
"Come on," Phiohr whispered. "Take the leap."
Michel hovered his mouse over the 'Accept' button. For a moment, he hesitated.
"He's thinking about it too much," Zumi worried.
But then Michel grinned—the same expression he got when facing a particularly challenging boss fight. "You know what? I've got nothing else going on."
He clicked 'Accept.'
The contract vanished from his screen, replaced by a simple message: "Welcome to the next level."
"He did it!" Zumi cheered, doing a little loop in the air.
But their celebration was cut short as Michel suddenly clutched his chest, his face going pale. The boy collapsed, his chair rolling backward as he hit the floor.
"His heart," Phiohr said grimly. "I forgot how fragile human bodies are. The contract's magic was too much for him."
"Is he...?"
"Dying, yes. But not for long." Phiohr raised his hands, and golden light began to pour from his fingers. "Michel Hein, I call your soul to me. Come, my Champion. Come to Istea."
The extraction was gentler than Phiohr had ever managed before. Usually, pulling a soul across dimensions was like yanking a fish from water—violent and jarring. But with Michel, it felt like a friend taking his hand and leading him toward a new adventure.
As Michel's spirit began to form in the white space, Phiohr spoke aloud, his words carrying the weight of prophecy:
"For too long, I have searched the cosmos for one who could save my world. Warriors came and went, heroes rose and fell, but none possessed what Istea truly needed." The god's voice grew stronger, more certain. "But you, Michel Hein—you who solved the unsolvable, who helped others before helping yourself, who saw joy where others saw only competition—you are different."
Michel's spirit was becoming more solid now, though still translucent and confused.
"I name you my Champion," Phiohr continued. "My representative in Istea, bearer of my divine blessing, and guardian of all who dwell within my realm."
"My lord," Zumi whispered, "shouldn't you explain—"
"Let him discover it naturally," Phiohr said. "Throwing too much information at him now would only cause panic. Better that he learns about his destiny as he grows into it."
Michel's form was nearly complete now—still sixteen, but somehow more solid, more real than he'd ever been in life.
"Go now, my Champion," Phiohr said, opening a portal beneath Michel's feet. "Awake in Istea. Begin your journey. And please..." The god's voice grew soft, almost pleading. "Make a miracle happen for this old creator. Save my world."
The portal swallowed Michel, carrying him away to a place of forests and magic, of creatures both wonderful and dangerous, where his greatest adventure would begin.
Zumi fluttered over to rest on Phiohr's shoulder. "Do you really think he can do it?"
Phiohr slumped in his chair, suddenly looking very tired. "I don't know, little one. But he's our last hope. If Michel fails..." He gestured to his mirror, which now showed dark clouds gathering at the edge of the universe. "Everything ends."
"No pressure then," Zumi said dryly.
Despite everything, Phiohr chuckled. "None at all."
---
Meanwhile, in a vast forest where ancient trees stretched toward painted skies, a sixteen-year-old boy materialized in a shower of golden light. Michel Hein hit the mossy ground with a soft thud, groaned once, and slowly opened his eyes to find himself staring up at leaves that seemed to glow with their own inner fire.
"Well," he muttered, sitting up and looking around at a world that was both familiar and impossible. "This is definitely not my bedroom."
His adventure in Istea had begun.