James Silver always felt like he was breathing better in worlds that didn't actually exist.
It wasn't like his life was some big tragedy, he didn't have a sob story or a horror-movie childhood to tell people about for sympathy. It was just... boring. The kind of boring that stuck to you like the smell of old office air. He woke up to the same white ceiling, ate the same bland meals, and listened to the same dumb jokes on TV shows he didn't even like. Most of his day was spent under flickering lights that made everything look gray, filing papers at a tech company with a long name he barely remembered. He was basically a paper-pusher, moving files around like sheep. His boss talked about "alignment" and "synergy," and James just nodded when he had to, then went home to the quiet little house he shared with his mom.
But when the dishes were done and his mom went to bed, James finally became himself.
He was the guy who stayed up late reading fantasy books until his eyes got blurry. He was the guy who knew every stat and skill tree in his favorite games, feeling the "click" of a critical hit like a heartbeat. He loved the sound of dice hitting a wooden table and laughing with his friends while they imagined castles and monsters in the air. People called it escapism, and they usually said it like it was a bad thing. But James didn't care. Sometimes, you just need a door to get out.
So, when he got an invite for a new game, a world called Zoridia, he couldn't stop thinking about it. His friends were hyped about a "special DM" and a super immersive story. James loved the start of a new campaign, that feeling where anything could happen.
The address was weird, though. It wasn't at a game shop or some friend's apartment with pizza boxes everywhere. It was down a dark side road where the streetlights were barely working. It was freezing out, and James's breath looked like smoke in the dark as he stood in front of a total shack. It was a run-down, sagging place with boards that looked rotten. It looked like the kind of place where a horror movie starts.
James pulled his backpack strap tighter, wishing he was somewhere else. He checked his phone again, but the message was clear: This is the place. "Great," James muttered, trying to laugh even though his chest felt tight. "Of course I'm the first one here."
He stepped onto the porch and the wood groaned under his boots like an old man waking up. He reached out to knock, and then... the world just stopped.
It wasn't a loud bang or a flash. It was just quiet. The wind died. A dead leaf was stuck in mid-air right next to the railing, pinned there by nothing. James's own breath stayed frozen in front of his face. Even a stray cat down the road was frozen mid-step with one paw up.
His heart started thumping loud in his ears. Then he saw the person or whatever it was.
It was standing right off the porch. It looked like a person, but its head was just a smooth, shiny ball of opal. Inside the opal, there was a whole galaxy spinning around, stars and shadows and light. It was like looking through a hole in the sky.
James took a step back, the porch creaking-which was weird, since everything else was frozen.
You have been chosen, James Silver, a voice said. It wasn't a sound, it was just... inside his head.
"Chosen?" James asked, his voice shaking. "For what?"
For greatness. The galaxy in its head spun slowly. Your friends won't be coming. Only you are at the door.
James gripped his backpack. "Is this a prank?"
The thing didn't laugh. You are going to Zoridia. But you aren't the hero. You'll be a side character—the tenth child of Emperor Tuare.
James felt his stomach drop. "The tenth kid? What kind of life is that?"
A life of silk and knives, the voice said. You'll be rich but vulnerable. A stepping stone for other people. But I'm going to give you a System. Attributes, levels, and magic. And two hidden gifts—one when you're eight, and one when you're sixteen.
James's head was spinning. He thought about his mom, his boring job, and his games. Then he thought about the door he'd been looking for his whole life.
It is time, the voice said.
Darkness hit him like spilled ink. Then came the pain. Not a stab, but just the crushing weight of being born. He couldn't breathe, then he was crying, a loud and angry wail.
Light blinded him. He felt warm arms holding him and smelled something like spring flowers. A woman was looking down at him, and she was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. She had silver hair like moonlight and pale, glowing eyes.
"Shh," she whispered. "My little star... you're safe."
James—no, Alaric—understood her, even though she wasn't speaking English. This was Asimi. His mother.
The room was huge, with gold pillars and firelight. Then a man stepped into view. He was tall and looked like a warrior, with hair that shimmered like real gold. Emperor Tuare. He looked at Alaric like he was a tool he was inspecting.
"Alaric," the Emperor said, his voice deep and heavy. "Tenth child of the throne."
Alaric felt a shiver. He was a prince, but he was at the bottom of the ladder. Just then, a little flicker appeared in the corner of his eye.
[System: Initializing...]
His tiny fingers curled up. Asimi kissed his head, and it felt warm. He was in a palace now, and it was beautiful but he could already tell it was full of wolves.