A floating, translucent blue screen shimmered into existence in front of me—just like in the animes.
Before I could focus on anything it said, Omar spoke up.
"Man, fuck all that. Send me home."
His voice cut through the air sharp and loud. No hesitation. No fear. Just frustration, real and raw.
"I'm not fighting and dying for nobody. This isekai shit might be cool in anime, but this isnt anime, and I'm not one of those depressed motherfuckers tryna escape from reality. I got two daughters back home. A family that actually loves me."
The room stayed silent around us—eerily so. The armored soldiers didn't flinch. The robed mages didn't blink. Even the woman on the throne didn't move. They just watched.
Joe slowly turned in a circle, taking in the space like he just noticed we were standing inside a fantasy painting. "These people really just talked mad shit about all of us," he muttered, "and then stood up, started barking orders, and expected us to follow 'em just like that?"
He shook his head. "Nah. I ain't built like that."
Sito snorted and said. "I kinda do want powers, though. Let's be real—y'all watched anime before. We all imagined ourselves in this exact situation at least once. Aaron talks about this shit all the time."
They all looked at me.
I shrugged, feeling something bubble in my chest. It wasn't fear or confusion anymore.
It was hunger.
"I'm not gonna lie," I said. "I don't want to go back."
Joe blinked. "What?"
Omar frowned. "The fuck you mean?"
"I mean Sito's right. I dreamt about shit like this. Literally. Like, I used to wake up mad as hell that it wasn't real."
I turned toward the glowing screen, heartbeat thudding in my chest like war drums. My hands were shaking—but not from fear.
Excitement.
"I already said Status," I murmured. "I wanna see what powers I got."
As our voices faded, I noticed the silence in the hall again.
Not empty.
Not judgmental.
Just… waiting.
These weren't pampered nobles used to getting their way. They were used to war. To orders. To silence. They'd insulted us, yes—but now, they just waited.
Waited for us to show what we were.
What we could be.
What we might become.
I looked at the screen in front of me, and for a moment… I forgot how to breathe.
The glow was soft, the text clean and crisp like a game HUD—but it wasn't fake. It wasn't a dream. This was real. I could feel it.
And then I read it.
And I swear, I got giddy like a damn kid on Christmas morning.
This is it.
This is really it.
I got sent into a fantasy world. I got powers. Not just any powers—the powers. The ones I used to daydream about during double shifts, the ones I'd talk about in group chats at 2AM. Space. Gravity. I wasn't just some NPC dropped into a war. I was something different.
All that grease, those burns, the stress, the bullshit of real life—gone.
Now? I had this:
---
[Status Screen]
Name: Aaron Davis
Race: Human (Outsider)
Level: 1
EXP: 0 / 100
Class: Singularity Weaver
Mana Affinities: Space, Gravity
Title: Summoned Scum
HP: 45 / 45
MP: 30 / 30
Stamina: 42 / 42
Attributes:
Strength: 4
Agility: 5
Endurance: 4
Durability: 5
Intelligence: 11
Willpower: 8
Perception: 6
Luck: 5
Stat Points Available: 0
(Leveling grants +3 free stat points per level. Assignable manually.)
---
Skills:
[Voidcut] (Space | Active)
Compress spatial energy into a thin blade and release it in a slash.
Damage Type: Physical
Range: 5 meters
Effect: Cuts through most mundane materials, struggles with mana-reinforced objects
Mana Cost: 3 MP
Cooldown: 10 seconds
[Gravity Bind] (Gravity | Active)
Anchor a single target's movement by increasing gravitational pressure in a fixed radius around their position.
Effect: Slows target's movement and reaction for 3 seconds
Range: 7 meters
Mana Cost: 3 MP
Cooldown: 15 seconds
---
Mana Regeneration: 1 MP per minute out of combat. (Reduced to 0.2 MP/min during combat unless boosted by potions or external sources.)
Traits:
[Isekai'd – Undying Potential]: You possess no level cap. Gain new skills every 25 levels.
[Earthborn]: Immune to certain magical mind-altering effects due to origin from a non-magical world.
I let out a breathless laugh, unable to wipe the stupid grin off my face.
"Bro," I whispered to no one, "I'm gonna be a monster."
Ignoring the very disrespectful title I was very happy with my status.
There was more, a small glowing blue dot next to the title. I clicked on it and it expanded.
Title: Summoned Scum
Effect:
Infamy: Native born inhabitants will treat you with suspicion or hostility unless overridden by fear, respect, or authority.
Survivor's Edge: When your HP falls below 25%, gain a temporary +2 to all physical stats (Strength, Agility, Endurance, Durability) for 10 seconds.
Stigma of the Outsider: Experience gain is halved when in a party with native-born inhabitants. Solo gain is unaffected.
I stared at the title effects, but honestly? I didn't feel anything.
Infamy. Whatever. If the people here hated me, so be it. I wasn't planning to be their friend.
Survivor's Edge. Cool. Clutch stat boost. Could be useful in a pinch.
Stigma of the Outsider. Halved XP gain when partying with natives? Irrelevant. I'd be overpowered regardless—and it didn't say anything about not partying with my guys. So, all good.
I wasn't planning on rolling with some prince and his holy knights anyway.
What did get my mind wandering, though, was the lack of a love interest. No cliché chosen one package was complete without at least one. The native inhabitants being suspicious of me hinder that a bit.
Maybe an elf? Blonde hair, fat ass, big tits—classic.
Or a beast-woman. Wolf ears. Cat ears. Shit, I wasn't picky.
As long as she looked like an anime character brought to life, I'd probably fall in love.
I closed the screen with a thought, and the glowing blue window blinked out of existence. Smooth. Intuitive. I could get used to this.
Looking around, I took stock of the others.
Joe was still leaning against one of the stone pillars, puffing on the cigarette he somehow summoned like a magic item. Unbothered. Cold.
Omar was pacing back and forth now, muttering under his breath, running a hand through his short hair like it might make the panic stop. He looked like he was unraveling minute by minute.
Sito was frozen, staring at his own status screen. Or maybe through it. Eyes glassy, body still. He didn't say anything, but I could tell—he was in it.
I turned back to Joe.
"You gonna look?" I asked.
He didn't even pause his smoke. "Nope."
I raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"
"I'm not staying," he said flatly, like it was obvious. "So I'm not gonna look. I know how this shit goes. I see some cool powers, get a little curious, then next thing I know I'm knee-deep in a war that has nothing to do with me."
He took another drag. "I ain't fighting for these people. Hell, I ain't even sure they're people. Just cause they look human don't mean they're not monsters in robes."
I nodded slowly. "I get Omar. He's got a family. Two baby girls. I've met 'em. They're like my nieces, man."
Joe didn't say anything.
"But you?" I said, facing him. "I don't get you. You don't got anybody back there. No girl. No parents you talk to. You live alone. You got us. That's it."
I searched his face. "Why would you wanna go back to that world?"
He finally looked at me. Like really looked. And the judgment in his eyes wasn't angry—it was sad. Like he pitied me.
"You don't wanna fight," I said, "fine. But what are you really going back to?"
Joe didn't answer right away.
He just stared for a second, then flicked ash off the tip of his cigarette, and said, "Why do you wanna stay so bad?"
That caught me off guard.
He kept going. "Yeah, okay—powers are cool. Swords and magic, sure. But your life wasn't even bad, man."
"You're twenty-one. In college. Studying computer science, something that could actually get you paid. You got friends. A loving family. A future."
"So why are you so eager to throw it all away?"