Here's the thing they never tell you about getting isekai'd: it doesn't hit you all at once.
When I left the guild hall, I was still half convinced I'd wake up back in my crappy chair, drooling on my keyboard with the Chrono Crusaders login screen asking me to enter my password for the fifty-seventh time.
But nope.
I shoved open those big wooden doors and stepped outside—and my brain basically blue-screened.
Sunlight slammed into my eyeballs like a flash grenade. I staggered back, waving my arms, half expecting to see SWAT dudes screaming "Get down!" Instead, I squinted and tried to focus…
…and realized I wasn't in Jersey anymore.
I'd seen fantasy cities in video games. Hell, I'd seen them so many times I could practically draw the minimap from memory. But let me tell you: pixels got nothing on the real deal.
First thing that hit me? The colors.
Buildings soared high on either side of cobblestone streets, all carved from pale stone and topped with red or blue tile roofs. Bright banners snapped in the breeze, painted with dragons, swords, and symbols I didn't even know how to pronounce. Flowers spilled from window boxes three stories up, raining petals onto people below.
And the people… holy crap.
It was like stepping into the world's most chaotic Renaissance fair. Everywhere I looked, there were armored knights, robed wizards, beastkin girls with fuzzy ears, dwarves hauling crates bigger than they were. A harpy flew overhead with shopping bags clutched in her talons. Someone led a tiny dragon on a leash, like it was a chihuahua.
Meanwhile, carts clattered down the road pulled by giant lizards instead of horses, and kids chased glowing butterflies the size of footballs. Somewhere, a bard plucked a lute while singing about "The Hero of the Crimson Moon."
And the smells—good lord, the smells.
Spices, sizzling meat, fresh bread, blacksmith forges belching hot metal fumes. It all mixed together into a scent cocktail that punched me right in the nostrils. I actually felt my stomach growl, which was impressive because usually my appetite was reserved strictly for Doritos and Mountain Dew.
I stood there, iron sword strapped awkwardly to my back, looking like a complete idiot in my Earth clothes—hoodie, jeans, scuffed sneakers. A few people gave me wide-eyed stares like I'd just wandered in naked. Others looked at me and whispered things I was pretty sure weren't compliments.
A dwarf lady passing by actually sniffed me, wrinkled her nose, and said:
"Outsiders always smell weird."
Charming.
It was in that moment, standing in the middle of this insane, gorgeous, terrifying place, that it finally sank in:
I was really, truly in another world.
Not a game. Not a dream. Not some VR beta test.
I was Gideon Brangwen, Class Z loser, in a place with real monsters, real magic, and real consequences if I screwed up.
And honestly? A tiny part of me was terrified.
But another part—the part that once ground fifty hours straight to farm a legendary sword drop—was already buzzing with a single thought:
"If this is a new game… you bet your ass I'm gonna break it."
Once my eyeballs finally adjusted to the light and my brain rebooted, I realized I'd stepped into the world's biggest, craziest MMORPG hub town.
Except this wasn't some glossy loading screen with a background loop. This place felt alive.
I wandered forward, trying not to get trampled, and started soaking it all in.
Picture this:
Tall stone buildings stretched skyward, built from pale bricks that glowed warm under the sun. Balconies dripped with hanging vines and bright flowers. Some rooftops had big colorful sails strung between towers, flapping like giant flags.
Everywhere I looked, banners waved overhead—some with dragons breathing fire, some with silver swords crossed behind shields, some with weird symbols that looked suspiciously like squiggly runes from my favorite RPG spellbooks.
The streets were pure cobblestone, winding in twisty, confusing loops like someone built the whole city while drunk. Tiny alleys branched off in every direction, vanishing between buildings.
I almost expected a minimap to pop up in my vision, but alas—no such luck.
The people were next-level.
A pair of elf girls argued over the price of purple gemstones, their ears twitching like antennae.
A group of orc mercenaries clanked past, weapons strapped across their backs, laughing in deep voices that rattled my spine.
A lizardman polished a rack of gleaming spears outside his shop, his scaled tail swishing behind him.
A beastkin girl with fluffy fox ears pouted as she haggled with a grumpy merchant over a basket of fruit that looked suspiciously like glowing apples.
A trio of floating slime creatures bobbed past like sentient balloons. One of them burped and puffed out a tiny rainbow mist.
And the shops. Oh, the shops.
Stalls crowded every open space, stacked high with exotic stuff:
Bundles of herbs tied with red string, labeled with signs like "Curse-B-Gone."
Weapons I'd only ever seen in loot tables—flamberge swords, spiked maces, daggers made of shimmering crystal.
Potions in glass bottles, swirling with neon colors, some fizzing like soda.
Jewelry glittering with enchanted gemstones.
Monster parts—literal monster parts—hanging like sausages on hooks.
And the food stalls.
Sweet merciful gaming gods, the food stalls.
Roasting meats turned on spits, dripping juices onto hot coals. Steaming dumplings were folded by a woman with six arms. Skewers of some sizzling, spicy lizard meat filled the air with mouth-watering smells.
My stomach did a backflip.
And then there was the magic.
Floating crystal lanterns lit up shady corners even in daylight.
Little motes of light sparkled in the air around certain shops, probably magical security systems.
A wizard strolled past with a floating spellbook bobbing over his shoulder like an obedient puppy.
At one point, a group of armored knights on horses with blazing red eyes thundered down the street, parting the crowd like a tsunami. People quickly stepped aside, bowing their heads. I tried to do the same but mostly ended up tripping over my own feet.
It all hit me at once—the color, the noise, the smells.
This wasn't Earth. This wasn't a game.
It was something bigger. Wilder. More alive than anything I'd ever experienced through a screen.
And here's the problem with getting dumped into another world: you stick out like a sore thumb.
Everywhere I went, people stared at me.
I mean, who could blame them? I was rocking my hoodie, jeans, and scuffed sneakers, still slightly sweat-stained from my last gaming marathon back on Earth. Everyone else wore leather tunics, cloaks, fancy metal armor, or flowing dresses straight out of a Final Fantasy cutscene.
I might as well have been strutting around Times Square in neon banana shorts screaming, "I'm from ANOTHER PLANET!"
At one point, a kid tugged on his mom's sleeve and asked,
"Mama, why is that man wearing pajamas?"
Ouch. Right in the pride.
I tried to act natural, strolling along like I belonged. Total fail.
For one thing, I kept comparing everything to gaming mechanics.
The city guards? NPC tank units.
The bustling crowd? Background city filler with random dialogue prompts.
The vendors shouting prices? Auction House spam.
The elf arguing over magic crystals? Probably an event quest giver.
I half expected someone to have a glowing exclamation mark floating over their head. Spoiler alert: they didn't.
At one point, I got so paranoid, I waved my hand in front of my face and whispered:
"Open menu."
Nothing happened. No HUD. No minimap. No stat screen showing HP and MP. Just my hand waving around like a lunatic. A passing merchant gave me the weirdest look and edged away like I was going to cast a curse on him.
Then it hit me like a crit to the gut:
This wasn't a game. This was real.
I mean—real-real.
The ground under my feet felt solid. The breeze was cool and carried hints of flowers and smoke. People bumped into me. A random catkin girl accidentally stepped on my foot with sharp claws and hissed "Watch it, human!"
Pain was real. Smells were real. People were real.
And the realization that I was stranded here—no PC, no party, no respawn timer—made me want to hurl.
A quick existential panic tried to claw its way out of my chest. I slapped my cheeks and forced myself to breathe.
"Okay, Gideon. Deep breaths. You're in another world. You're broke. You're Class Z trash. But hey… at least there's no cable bills or customer service calls here, right?"
Small mercies.
And yet, underneath all the fear, there was this thrill buzzing in my veins.
Because, let's be real: as much as this world scared the hell out of me… it was also exactly the kind of place I'd spent my whole life dreaming about.
Magic. Monsters. Epic quests.
•••••
Once I convinced myself I wasn't going to spontaneously wake up back in Jersey, my stomach decided to remind me I hadn't eaten anything except existential dread for the last… however many hours I'd been here.
So I wandered into the market square.
And holy crap, it was like stepping into a loot drop explosion.
There were stalls everywhere.
One guy was selling glowing mushrooms that pulsed like rave lights. Another had tiny cages full of squeaking critters with fluffy tails and way too many eyes. A lady with an impressive beard was hawking "Miracle Growth Tonic" that supposedly made your hair lush and shiny.
Meanwhile, the smell of roasted meat kept punching me in the face. I swear I could hear angels singing every time a fresh skewer hit the coals.
I drifted toward a vendor selling these shiny red things that looked like apples—except they were glowing softly from the inside.
"How much for one of those?" I asked, pointing.
The vendor, an old dude with half his teeth missing and a mole shaped suspiciously like a mini-dragon, grinned at me.
"Two silvers each, lad. Special Flamefruit from the eastern jungles. Good for vigor, y'see?"
I nodded sagely, trying to play it cool. Then I reached into my hoodie pocket… and pulled out a crumpled five-dollar bill.
"Will you take… cash?"
The vendor stared at the green paper like I'd just handed him a dead rat.
"What in the Demon King's balls is this?"
I tried waving it around.
"It's money. American. Very valuable. You could… buy a sandwich. Or part of a sandwich. Maybe."
A pause.
"GET OUT OF ME STALL, YA CRAZY BASTARD!"
I shuffled away, red-faced, and tried my luck with another merchant selling little glass bottles filled with neon liquids.
"Health potions?" I asked hopefully.
"One gold each!" the merchant chirped.
"Great. How much is a gold worth in… dollars?"
Blank stare.
"I have five bucks."
He made the sign of the cross—or whatever holy gesture existed in this world—and slowly pulled his wares away from me.
Okay. So Earth money was worthless. Good to know.
Apparently, this place used gold, silver, and copper coins. And guess how many of those Gideon Brangwen, Class Z loser, possessed?
Exactly zero.
So there I was: in a magical world full of wonders… and I couldn't even afford a piece of glowing fruit.
At one point, a guy with a sketchy grin tried to sell me a "Lucky Talisman to increase your manhood's girth." I politely declined. He upped his offer. I declined again. He kept following me for three blocks until a city guard chased him away.
By the time I staggered out of the marketplace, my stomach was howling like a boss monster on low HP, and my pride was in critical condition.
"Fantastic," I muttered. "New world. New me. Same broke-ass wallet."
•••••
So there I was, stumbling out of the marketplace, stomach growling like a pissed-off grizzly bear, wondering if glowing fruit counted as tax-deductible in another world… when the entire vibe of the city suddenly shifted.
One second it was bright banners, happy merchants, and dancing slime blobs. The next…
Tension. Everywhere.
First, I heard shouting.
A squad of adventurers came marching down the street, all covered in blood and monster guts. Their armor was dented, and one guy had a gnarly claw mark across his face, dripping red.
People rushed to make way. A few gasped. A kid started crying.
One of the blood-splattered warriors—an elf woman with short silver hair and the kind of eyes that screamed "I've murdered things bigger than you"—snapped at a bystander:
"Out of the way. We've got a wyvern carcass coming through!"
Behind them, a bunch of laborers struggled to drag a massive beast head down the street, leaving a trail of dark blood. It looked like some unholy lovechild between a lizard and a bat, with fangs longer than my forearm.
I swallowed hard.
"Right. So… not just cute slime monsters around here."
Then a town crier climbed onto a wooden crate and started yelling at the top of his lungs:
"HEAR YE, HEAR YE! MONSTER ACTIVITY RISING IN THE OUTER FIELDS! ALL RANK C AND ABOVE ADVENTURERS REQUESTED FOR PATROLS!"
He rattled off monster names I didn't even want to try pronouncing. Something about "shadow manticores" and "acid leeches the size of cows."
"Neat," I muttered. "Acid cows. Awesome. Just what I needed in my new life."
Not five seconds later, a commotion broke out a few stalls away.
A group of city guards tackled some guy wearing a black cloak. The dude screamed and tried to run, but one guard slammed him into a fruit stand so hard that glow-apples exploded everywhere like a fruity fireworks show.
Turns out the guy had tried to steal a magic ring from a merchant's display.
The guards dragged him away, kicking and yelling something about curses and mind control. A merchant started sobbing about how the ring was priceless and blessed by the High Priestess of "something-something Light."
I just stood there, thinking:
"Cool, cool. So I can get eaten by monsters or stabbed by thieves. Great place. Ten out of ten. Would recommend."
And the final cherry on the "Welcome to Danger Town" sundae?
I passed a bulletin board nailed to a wall. It was covered in flyers showing pictures of people—and monsters—with bold red lettering that read:
WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE.
Bounties ranged from a few silver coins to entire chestfuls of gold.
I couldn't help picturing my own face up there someday, with a caption like:
"WANTED: GIDEON BRANGWEN. CRIME: BEING COMPLETELY USELESS."
For the first time since stepping into this world, it really hit me:
"This place isn't just pretty lights and fantasy vibes. People die here. For real."
I shivered a little. My gamer instincts might be screaming "Adventure!" but my squishy human instincts were very much screaming "RUN, IDIOT!"
But hey. I'm nothing if not stubborn.