After a mere thirty minutes in the void, a light bloomed, a perfect circle expanding from a pinpoint to a blinding radiance. I instinctively slammed my eyes shut, the afterimage searing into my retinas. When I dared to open them again, a group of priests stood before me, their faces etched with a palpable relief. Two teenagers, still clad in their jarringly familiar high school uniforms, mirrored my own bewildered expression. But it wasn't just the strange company that shocked me. My body had transformed, the sickly thin frame replaced by a healthy, even attractive physique. Even the persistent itch of my eczema was gone, a phantom limb of my past life.
"Hey, where the hell am I?" I demanded, my voice rough, the confusion and residual fear making it difficult to sound anything but hostile.
"You...you are in the kingdom of Wallachi. We summoned you here. We need your help," a priest stammered, his eyes darting nervously, like a cornered animal.
"Help for what?" I pressed, my tone firm, bordering on accusatory. I'd heard that line too many times, a thinly veiled request for someone else to shoulder their burdens.
"There's a prophecy...a demonic catastrophe is predicted to engulf the kingdom," the priest explained, his voice low, heavy with dread.
"And you thought summoning us three here was a good idea? Just so we can die?" I retorted, stepping forward and grabbing his collar, the fabric rough beneath my fingers. Before I could escalate, a hand tapped my shoulder, a calm, almost detached presence. I turned to see one of the high schoolers, his expression devoid of any real emotion.
"Relax, he's just a priest."
I released the priest, offering a curt, almost begrudging apology. "Sorry. I have...issues with priests from my world. Let's start again. What exactly do you want from us?"
The priest cleared his throat, regaining a semblance of composure. "As I said, a demonic catastrophe is foretold. Your purpose here is to help humanity defeat the demon lord. Once you succeed, you'll return to your own worlds."
The high schooler who had intervened spoke up, his voice flat. "If we're supposed to save humanity, we expect support. Powerful weapons, quality armor. The works."
The priest nodded, clearly anticipating this. He gestured, and the other priests parted, making way. "Of course! The king is expecting you. He's prepared for your requests. Follow me."
As we walked through the castle, the stone walls echoing with our footsteps, we introduced ourselves. "I'm Ahmad, from Katok High School," I said, a touch of irony in my voice.
"Darkhan, Yota High School," the other boy replied, his eyes cool and assessing. He was my height, 5'7", with dark eyes and white hair. His build was slim, almost angular, a stark contrast to my tanned skin and broad shoulders.
"Drulias," the third teen chimed in, his features delicately sculpted, almost too perfectly so. He was taller, around six feet, with a soft, almost feminine build.
The massive doors of the throne room swung open, revealing the king seated on his ornate throne. As we entered, I noticed the king whispering urgently to the priest, his face etched with concern.
"Isn't there supposed to be two heroes? Why three? We only have weapons for two..."
The priest paled, his eyes wide with panic. "We can check their stats, Your Majesty. If one is significantly weaker, we can...dispose of them."
The king nodded, then turned to us, a false smile plastered on his face, like a mask slipping slightly. "Welcome, heroes. As you know, the demon war is imminent. Before we equip you, we need to assess your abilities. Just say 'status' to see your level."
Status? Like a game? Darkhan and Drulias had already summoned their screens, their stats glowing with impressive numbers. I quickly followed suit.
A blue screen flickered into existence:
Level 1
Strength: 8/100
Dexterity: 5/100
Constitution: 12/100
Intelligence: 15/100
Wisdom: 3/100
Charisma: 7/100
Luck: 1/100
"Misidentification": 100% chance of misidentifying objects.
My heart sank, a lead weight in my chest. This is a joke, right? Even my luck was a pathetic one.
"Hey," I said, my voice tight, a tremor of disbelief running through it, "these single-digit numbers...they're not normal, are they?"
The king's gaze was cold, devoid of any warmth. "Normal? No. They're...abysmal. Most heroes arrive with stats in the double digits, some even triple. You...you're far below average."
Darkhan and Drulias snickered, a high-pitched, mocking sound that grated on my nerves. I suppressed a surge of anger, the injustice of it burning in my gut.
"Can I...upgrade them?" I asked, my voice strained, barely a whisper. "How?"
"Dungeons," the king replied, his tone dismissive, like explaining something to a child. "The more monsters you kill, the stronger you become. But with those stats, it will be a struggle. I suggest forming a team. We'll provide weapons, armor, and adventure guild members tomorrow. For now, rest."
I breathed a sigh of relief, a fragile hope flickering in my chest. At least there was a chance to improve. But the looming demon war...what would happen to me with stats this low?
Darkhan and Drulias, their laughter fading, followed the priest out of the throne room, leaving me alone with my thoughts, a whirlwind of anxiety and determination.
Later, in a lavishly furnished room, the fruits on the table looked like they were sculpted from gold, and the beds were so soft tha I felt i was sinking into clouds. We were getting to know each other, the awkward silence punctuated by forced pleasantries, a thin veneer over the tension that crackled in the air.