Chapter 1 – A Life Adrift
Ethan Cross had long since stopped caring about the tick of the clock.
It wasn't that time had no meaning—it just lost its weight when every day looked the same. The same lukewarm coffee from a machine that sputtered like it hated him, the same bus ride full of people avoiding eye contact, and the same part-time job stocking shelves in a store that smelled faintly of expired air freshener.
At twenty-five, most people he knew were climbing corporate ladders, starting families, or at the very least… figuring themselves out. On the other hand, Ethan was a college dropout with a degree in half-finished essays and a minor in "creative excuses." His most notable achievements included "dropping out of engineering because it was boring," "surviving on ramen for three straight weeks," and "being ghosted by his last girlfriend after she called him 'directionless.'"
"Directionless, my ass," Ethan muttered as he balanced a box of cereal on one shoulder. "I know exactly where I'm going. Nowhere. Very efficiently."
He earned a few side-eyes from shoppers. He grinned anyway. If he didn't laugh at himself, who would?
That was the thing about Ethan: he might've been a dropout, but he refused to be miserable about it. He had humor, a hint of charm, and the kind of shamelessness that either got him slapped or invited for drinks. Not much else, but hey—he owned it.
When his shift ended, Ethan trudged back to his shoebox apartment. The wallpaper peeled like old scabs, and the radiator made noises that suggested it was either haunted or desperately wanted to quit. He kicked off his shoes, collapsed onto his sagging couch, and grabbed the stack of mail he'd been ignoring.
Bill. Bill. Junk flyer. Another bill. Something about a free gym membership. Like he'd ever step foot in one.
And then—
An envelope. Thick. Heavy. Cream-colored paper, sealed with a wax insignia he didn't recognize.
"…This is either a Hogwarts acceptance letter or a scam." Ethan tore it open anyway.
Inside was a single sheet, the handwriting elegant and flowing:
> To Ethan Cross,
You are formally invited to attend Celestia Academy, the foremost institution of learning in the world.
Attendance is compulsory once accepted. Consider this a rare opportunity.
— Celestia Administration
No explanation. No return address. Just… that.
Ethan blinked. Then I laughed. "Celestia Academy? What is this, an anime?"
He held the letter up to the light. The paper shimmered faintly, like moonlight caught in ink. Not printed. Not normal. His fingers tingled as he touched the crest stamped at the bottom.
A weird thought drifted through his head: What if this is real?
He shook it off. "Yeah, right. Next thing you know, I'll sprout wings and summon a dragon."
Still, he set the letter down carefully instead of tossing it.
---
The next morning, Ethan's world proved him wrong.
He woke up to knocking. Irritated, hair sticking in all directions, he opened the door—only to find a man in a dark suit and gloves. His eyes glowed faintly gold, like something out of a fantasy movie.
"Ethan Cross?" the man asked.
"…Depends. Are you here to collect rent?"
The man smiled thinly. "You've been chosen. Gather your belongings. A carriage is waiting."
Ethan blinked. "Carriage? What is this, some kind of cult? Because if there's a free buffet, I'm—"
The man snapped his fingers. Reality warped. The hallway stretched and blurred. Ethan stumbled as light swallowed him whole.
When his vision cleared, he wasn't in his apartment anymore.
He stood on a wide stone platform suspended in the sky. Towers spiraled upward, glowing with ethereal runes. Below stretched endless clouds, broken by flashes of light and flying shapes that definitely weren't airplanes.
"Welcome," the suited man said, "to Celestia Academy."
Ethan's jaw dropped. "...Oh, hell no. This is an anime."
And for the first time in years, his heart beat with something he hadn't felt since before life went off the rails.
Excitement.