Kyle hunched over his desk, his thin arms resting on the edge of a keyboard worn smooth by years of late-night gaming. The only light in his cramped apartment came from the flickering glow of his monitor and the faint orange halo of the noodle cup sitting beside it. The hum of his old desktop tower filled the silence, accompanied by the occasional creak from his rickety chair.
On the screen, an enormous floating fortress hovered above the clouds, a massive citadel of obsidian, gold, and crystal. The walls stretched for miles, encircling towers that pierced the heavens. Bridges of light connected each spire, and banners rippled in invisible wind. At the center of it all stood the throne of Aethelgard, his pride and joy.
Kyle leaned back and grinned.
"Man… that's beautiful."
In his sandbox game, he had spent countless hours shaping every detail. Each wall was carved with runic designs, every courtyard filled with intricate statues. The floating castle could house one hundred thousand souls comfortably, though in his world, "souls" meant data, AI routines, and NPCs.
He scrolled through his list of creations.
"Let's see… Guard Captain Seris, Commander Irel, Commander Kael, and the rest of the elites. All present."
Every soldier in Aethelgard's army was designed to be absurdly powerful. Super strength, super agility, endurance beyond reason, and for fun, every one of them had telekinesis. They could fly, lift houses, crush boulders, and throw enemies like ragdolls within a fifty-foot radius.
But fifteen of them stood apart from the rest. He had coded those to be special, leaders, with more powerful abilities, and higher stats comparable to his main avatar.
"Fifteen elites," he said to himself, scrolling through their character sheets. "Each one strong enough to rule a city on their own. Guess that's what happens when you've got too much free time."
His own avatar, Lord Kyle Aethelgard, was no slouch either. He was the ruler of this floating empire, the Immortal Esper Sovereign, a title that had made him laugh when he first typed it in. He had made the avatar a reflection of what he wished to be: tall, composed, confident, absurdly powerful. It was escapism, pure and simple.
With a few clicks, Kyle set up another simulation, his army against an equally large opposing force generated by the game's AI. Thousands of units spawned into existence, clashing in a chaotic dance of destruction. Fireballs exploded across the sky. Massive beasts roared. The earth below cracked under the pressure of power.
It was over in less than a minute.
The army of Aethelgard didn't lose a single soldier.
Kyle blinked, leaning closer to the monitor.
"…That's it?" he muttered.
He watched as the enemy's last remnants disintegrated into digital dust. "Well, that was anticlimactic."
He leaned back and laughed softly. "Guess I made them too strong again. Who needs balance, anyway?"
His chair squeaked as he stood, stretching his arms until his joints popped. He grabbed his cup of noodles and poured hot water from an old kettle. The smell of instant seasoning filled the room, mixing with the faint metallic scent of his dusty computer.
He walked toward the small balcony of his apartment and slid the door open. The cool night air brushed against his face, carrying the distant hum of traffic below. The city stretched endlessly before him, gray, quiet, indifferent. Above, the stars glimmered faintly against the black velvet sky.
Kyle leaned on the railing, his cup of noodles in hand.
"Another depressing day," he muttered. "At least Aethelgard doesn't judge me for being broke."
He took a slurp of noodles, watching the faint trails of light from passing planes. Then, something brighter streaked across the horizon, a brilliant flash cutting through the night sky.
A shooting star.
Kyle blinked in surprise. "Whoa."
He had never actually seen one that close before. It burned a vivid white, trailing sparks like falling embers.
A grin tugged at his lips. "Guess I should make a wish, huh?"
He closed his eyes and chuckled.
"Dear lord, I wish I'd get isekaied," he said, half-joking, half-hopeful. "Take me to Aethelgard."
He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. "Yeah, right. Like that would eve—"
When he opened his eyes, his words died in his throat.
The view before him was wrong.
The balcony railing was no longer rusted metal but polished gold lined with swirling runes. The dull concrete beneath his feet was now marble veined with faint light. The city skyline was gone, replaced by a sea of clouds stretching endlessly below. The air was fresh, tinged with something crisp and ethereal.
Kyle's heart stopped.
He took a step back. The vast horizon of his floating castle—Aethelgard—spread out beneath him, immense and majestic. Spires pierced the heavens. Massive banners of black and gold fluttered in the wind. The castle floated serenely over the clouds, its shadow casting miles of darkness below.
"W–what the hell…" he whispered. "No way."
He stumbled backward, bumping into a marble pillar. His mind raced, his body trembling. "This… this is impossible."
He looked around, the scale, the design, the gold-plated furniture in the nearby hall, the intricate engravings on the walls. He recognized every detail. He had built all of this in the game.
And now he was inside it.
"Am I dreaming?" he muttered, slapping his own cheek. "Ow! Okay... no. Not a dream."
His breathing quickened. He looked around, trying to find something familiar. His eyes fell on a large banner hanging proudly above the balcony doors, a golden sigil of intertwined wings and a glowing orb.
He knew that emblem.
"Aethelgard…" he whispered. "This really is Aethelgard."
He turned, rushing back inside. The grand room beyond was enormous, easily larger than his entire apartment complex. Polished black marble floors reflected the light of floating orbs above. Tall windows stretched to the ceiling, framed by velvet curtains. Every piece of furniture gleamed with craftsmanship that would put royal palaces to shame.
And then, he saw it.
A mirror.
A full-body mirror with a golden frame stood near the bed. He froze as his reflection came into view.
The man staring back wasn't the skinny, pale gamer from Earth.
He was tall, at least six foot five with broad shoulders and lean, powerful muscles that seemed sculpted from marble. His skin was smooth, his posture straight, and his black hair shimmered faintly under the light. His eyes glowed faintly with a metallic silver hue.
Kyle blinked.
"…Holy crap."
He moved his hands slowly, watching his reflection do the same. His fingers were longer, steadier, elegant. His entire presence exuded calm power, an aura he could feel humming faintly beneath his skin.
"So this is… my avatar?" he said softly. "Lord Kyle Aethelgard."
He ran a hand over his jawline and laughed nervously. "I really did get isekaied... And damn… I look great."
He paced the room in disbelief, glancing out the window again. "This can't be real, right? No way. Maybe I'm hallucinating. Did I pass out at my desk or balcony?"
He pinched his arm again, hard. "Nope. Still real."
He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "Alright, Kyle. Think. If this really is Aethelgard, then the NPCs… my army… they should be here too."
As if in response to his words, a faint sound echoed from beyond the ornate doors, a knock. Firm and respectful.
Kyle froze.
"Lord Aethelgard," a voice said from the other side. Deep, composed, and slightly formal. "May we come in?"
Kyle's mind went blank for a moment. His heart thudded in his chest.
They're real.
He swallowed. "Uh… yes," he managed to say. "Come in."
The heavy doors creaked open.
A man stepped through, tall, dressed in gleaming black-and-gold armor, the same design Kyle had given to his elite guards. His golden hair was tied back, his face sharp and regal, his eyes glowing faintly blue with telekinetic power. Behind him stood two other figures, a woman in a combination of golden and black armor and flowing robes adorned with runic light, then a huge knight who is incredibly heavily armored carrying a huge sword.
They bowed deeply.
"Welcome back, my lord," said the armored man, his voice respectful but steady. "It is an honor to see you awaken."
Kyle's mouth went dry. "Awaken…?"
The robed woman smiled faintly. "You have slept for quite some time, my lord. We feared the long silence meant your essence had drifted from this realm."
He blinked, his brain struggling to catch up. They were talking to him, his NPCs are now not in scripted dialogue, not through pre-written lines, but as living beings.
"Oh," he said weakly. "Right… yeah, I guess I woke up."
The knight beside them chuckled softly. "Still as calm as ever, even after a century. Truly, Lord Aethelgard."
Kyle forced a nervous laugh. "Y-yeah. Centuries. Totally."
His thoughts spun like a storm. Centuries? What did that mean here? Did time even move differently?
He straightened his posture instinctively, trying to appear like the ruler he had coded. "So… uh, report. How's the castle?"
The armored man, Seris, if he remembered correctly—raised his head slightly. "All sectors remain stable. The levitation cores hum at full capacity. The armies stand ready, awaiting your command."
Kyle nodded slowly, trying to keep up. "Good. Good work. Carry on."
The woman tilted her head, studying him. "Are you well, my lord? You seem… disoriented."
Kyle smiled awkwardly. "Just a little. It's been… a long nap."
Seris nodded respectfully. "Understood. We shall prepare the others for your return. There is much to discuss."
As they turned to leave, Kyle took another deep breath. His hands trembled slightly, not from fear, but from the overwhelming rush of realization.
This wasn't a dream.
He wasn't in his apartment anymore.
He was inside the world he had created.
And every one of his creations, his soldiers, his commanders, his kingdom was alive.
When the door closed behind them, the silence felt heavier than before. Kyle stood in the middle of the grand chamber, staring at his reflection one more time.
"Well," he whispered with a shaky grin, "I guess I got what I wished for."
He turned toward the balcony again, watching the endless clouds drift below the floating fortress.
"What world am I in anyways," he muttered to himself. "Guess it's time to see what kind of mess I made."