My eyes opened to whispering sneers.
Not the sirens or alarms I expected. Not Jared's voice echoing down the corridor. Not my father's latest performance shouting from down the hall.
Last time I opened my eyes like this… I was lying in the hospital, covered in burns. They said I passed out from smoke inhalation.
That same day... Mom died. I failed to protect her then and now I failed to protect dad.
Hushed murmurs. Judging.
The air was cold. Not freezing, but eerie enough to send shivers down my spine. I couldn't move. My limbs were stone, my chest barely with each breath. I laid there, listening;
"What happened to him? He screamed… And was on fire…"
"Look at his arms! There's burn marks all over them," laughed another.
I didn't turn towards them. Didn't meet their gazes or angrily defend myself. Just stared at the ceiling, letting their words wash over me.
I get it… I failed.
I deserve it.
The ceiling stretched far above, arching between pillars carved from stone, crisscrossed with glowing gold light. As I watched, the light twisted… distorting. Almost if faces flickered within them.
Faces I knew…
My fathers. Jareds. Even guys from my hall.
Tears stung my eyes, silently burning against my cheek as moisture clung to my lips.
Dad… Please be okay.
The chances were slim for anyone… I knew that.
But, I couldn't give up hope.
One thing was certain: I wasn't home.
Jared would know what to do.
I braced my hand against the polished stone floor and pushed. My body didn't hurt, it was too numb, but the strain made me lightheaded. I managed to stand, numb tremors vibrated up my leg as I wobbled. My knees, shaking.
Around me, others stirred. Over a dozen. Different ages, various builds. One girl wore bloody doctor scrubs, her arms wrapped tightly around her like she was holding herself together. She kept glancing down at her ID badge, eyes nearly watering.
A guy nearby had an anime print hoodie with Japanese lettering on the sleeve. Another gripped a cracked phone, its lock screen faintly lit.
No similarities. No obvious reason or pattern.
So where were we?
Why us?
"What the hell is this…?" someone mumbled.
Noone answered.
The scent of mildew clung to walls, burning my nose. I was too busy struggling to breathe.
My last memory was fire. Blazing heat, choking on smoke. Fainting…
Then…
Light. Like a screen.
Did I…
die?
The thought startled me. I shook it out of my head and focused on the shifting whispers in front of me.
They stood before the altar, a group; scorning. I counted fifteen, about one for each of us. They wore tunics and long fur-trimmed coats. Gold and gems etched their clothes, anywhere attachable. Others wore cloaked robes, some hoods up, others drawn low. Each grasped glowing books.
They're clothes look foreign…
Is that book humming?
Steel clinked ahead. A row of armored guards stood like statues, helmets down, halberds against the floor.
"You have been summoned," one of them said, echoing, hollow beneath the helm.
"The Queen is waiting."
Queen? My stomach tightened. I'm dead after all…The Greeks were right? I gulped, mind racing.
Queen of gods, that's Hera.
She does not have a merciful reputation. I thought. Hades rules the dead… not Hera. Right?
I let the question die as everyone stood; fifteen of us in total.
A guy around my age stepped forward, taller, broader. Built like a linebacker or someone who never left the gym. I was six-two, but he had me beat, easily six-five, two-twenty, all muscle.
His gray eyes scanned the room without fear. Just quiet with burning resolve,
"I'm not going anywhere with you," he said calmly. Not angry. Just unwavering.
A few of us cheered as one jeweled-tunic man ran for the exit.
The nearest guard hesitantly stumbled forward, halberd raising. But before he could speak, a robed man behind him shouted, his book floating overhand.
"STOP!" the mage screamed. His book spun out of control, pages whipping violently. Sweat poured from his face as his arm extended.
"I can't… stop it."
A fireball erupted from his hand. His eyes widened, horrified. As if his body moved on its own.
"HE'S A DREADGUARD!" a guard shouted, diving in front of the attack, his shield raised.
The flames crashed into the steel, fizzling out harmlessly.
The robed figure huffed, smiling darkly,
"A strong one, it seems…"
What was that…
The Linebacker turned, smirking as if his suspicions were confirmed.
After that... No-one dared object.
Actual magic?
One by one, we fell into line.
Maybe out of fear or curiosity. Possibly both. But everyone understood…
Our lives were at risk.
Guards surrounded us, herding us out of the chamber like cattle. The corridors we entered were cold and seemingly endless, carved from pale stone and lit by floating lanterns.
They reminded me of Harry Potter, gently bobbing up and down as they illuminated. That would make us, the ghosts.
It was oddly beautiful. Cold… but beautiful.
Unlike the summoning room, the floor stretched forward in perfect symmetric tiles lined with crimson carpet and flanked by columns.
I chose the back of the line, keeping my distance from the fireball mage and the Linebacker. The others kept glancing his way, murmuring. He didn't act afraid. He didn't look confused. That unsettled me more than anything; like he knew something. I avoided anyone who looked too comfortable or excited.
The corridor widened into a massive hall, so large it could have swallowed my entire firehouse. My eyes gazed across paintings of kings, statues of warriors battling serpents and twisted beasts. They had everything, from wing serpents, vampires, even an enormous centipede…
Where's the Olympian gods?
Heroes like Odysseus, Hercules… Or even Icarus?
The mosaics stretched far along the stained-glass walls like an enormous history lesson. But nothing looked familiar, even to a mythology buff like me.
At the far end, five stairs led to two thrones. One grand and majestic, the other slightly smaller, but equally regal.
And on those thrones… Sat a king and queen.
Suddenly, the guard leading us gulped, pausing before the thrones. He glanced nervously toward the queen. She nodded. Then, he turned to the man.
"I present the summoned," he declared, quickly vanishing behind the crowd.
The man was massive. Broad-shouldered with wild, jet black hair and a scar down his left eye. He wore black robes trimmed with fur that had a damaged, dented breastplate strapped over it. Young for a king, in his twenties.
He's not what I envisioned. He had no crown, no jewels. Just cold, calculating green eyes and a lazy smile. His legs reclined over the arm of his throne, one boot muddy.
The woman beside him… Was definitely a queen; elegant, dignified, mannered and unreadable. She was young, perhaps in her thirties, but everything I envisioned medieval nobility to look like.
She stood in front of the slightly smaller throne. Standing to greet us, before sitting. Atop her silky, platinum hair was a silver crown, studded with sapphires. It complemented her flowing silver and deep blue robes, with icy gemstones woven into her sleeves and collar.
She sat, her jaw tightening as she glared. She said nothing, but her icy blue eyes flickered to his boots.
"My name," the man said steadily, leaning forward, "is Trevnos Ivoryn. Heir to the sovereign of Ivarous." His smile brightened.
"You have not arrived here by accident."
Nervous glances passed through us as he stood, pacing; hands behind his back.
"You were chosen," he said. "Summoned from your world by the will of the Crown, guided by ancient magic long forbidden to us."
He gestured toward the robed mages. "We'll be brief. The emperor can give the details. There is a plague spreading, a corruption called the Horde. Monsters pour from rifts in our world, protecting an enormous gate. For centuries, we've held the line. But that line is breaking.
"What's that got to do with me," a girl blurted.
Prince Trevnos stopped pacing. A few around me shifted uncomfortably as he grinned.
"I like you… keep that spirit. You have been given roles. Through the summoning. Through the system."
His gaze pierced through us, analyzing as if reading our minds.
"Dreadguard. Vanguard. Reaper. Oracle."
I tapped my leg nervously. The system must have appeared after the fire.
A girl beside me raised her hand.
"How do we get back?" she asked, trembling. "You said we were summoned. That… means we didn't have a choice. So…when do we go home?"
Whispers spiraled in agreement. Until the queen rose. Her voice was soft, but it silenced the room.
"There is no return. Not until the rift is sealed."
Chaos erupted. Most shouted, some cursed under their breath. Maybe angry. Maybe scared.
Sorry dad.
"You mean we're stuck here?" someone spat. "You can't be serious…"
"We do not lie," Trevnos said, firmly. "You were chosen. Each of you for a reason. Your world uses terms like Tanks, DPS, Supports… yes?"."
A few heads nodded, confused.
"Is this a game?" whispered someone behind me.
"We've been isekai'd," answered another.
Another hand went up, one I recognized. The guy in the Japanese anime-print hoodie, Kenji, I think. He told everyone it means wise in Japanese. He had messy hair, but his eyes were sharp. Always looking around the room, analyzing.
He raised his hand like this was a college lecture, not a kidnapping or a "isekai".
"And what if I refuse?" he said. "What if we don't fight your monsters?
That wasn't wise…
Trevnos nodded. Not to him, but behind us.
One of the mages turned a page, repeating a word I couldn't understand.
Immediately, a circle of glowing runes or glyphs formed beneath Kenji. Chains locked his arms as the floating runes seared into his body. Their burn wasn't pixelated or 'visual effect' magic. It blistered skin and cooked his flesh.
The smell turned my stomach.
That's… Torture.
Eli, Move! Do something!
Scrubs Girl screamed as the group gasped. Hands covered their mouths, eyes wide with horror. Someone puked.
Trevnos didn't move. Didn't flinch.
Only one of us reacted…
Without thinking, Linebacker stormed towards the gates behind us. Guards raced to intercept him but it was too late.
His shoulder dropped as he suddenly turned, slamming into one of the hooded mages.
The next second, two people were on the floor.
The robed man laid on his back, groaning four feet from his book.
The other…
Was Linebacker.
Prince Trevnos kneeled over him, forcing his face to the ground like a dog. His knee tightened as the tall linebacker struggled.
He crossed the room in a blink of an eye.
How... was he so fast?
Kenji stopped screaming. The circle vanished and he collapsed, heaving.
"Enough… You made your point, Trevnos. Their refusal comes at a cost," demanded the queen. Then... her tone softening,
"But so does obedience. You are not prisoners, we're just... desperate. We do not seek slaves. We seek champions. Heroes."
The prince listened, releasing the furious dreadguard. He stood wiping himself off.
My fists clenched.
I need to go home. Now you want us to die for you?
And yet… I don't have a choice.
One of the guards stepped forward. "It is time."
Trevnos nodded, exiting the hall.
"I leave the rest to you."