From my little trip to another world, I ended up in a dingy alleyway. The air smelled like wet metal and stale smoke, puddles framing the cracked pavement around me.
'Not a great first location for a summoning.'
"Hey, portal thingy, aren't you supposed to transport me somewhere cool? Like, I don't know… in front of a king or something? Don't tell me you're the portal version of a communal bus."
But the portal was already gone, leaving nothing but a faint shimmer and the quiet hum of the city beyond.
I looked up at the sky. Not too different from my old world but it was a little... off. The stars were too close, like they were watching me. Creepy. Then I noticed something on my left arm—black markings, swirling like smoke trapped under my skin.
I knew I wasn't the same person anymore. Everybody knows black markings mean forbidden magic. And hey—bonus, a free tattoo.
I threw my hands up and screamed in triumph.
"Time to give a performance of a lifetime! This whole world is my stage!"
Once the echo of my glorious announcement faded which I'm sure everyone in the nearby rundown flats absolutely heard—they had to know. A legend had just been born.
To my surprise, this world looked… somewhat similar to my old one. Tall buildings lined the streets. A train hissed past on iron rails. But people still rode horses, dressed in tailored coats and feathered hats.
It was a strange mash-up of old and new, like Victorian London got drunk and made out with modern Tokyo.
'Urban fantasy, huh?'
I glanced around for spellcasters or robed mages, anything that screamed magic but alas, I saw none. Just street vendors shouting prices and a carriage trotting past, its horses guided by glowing blue reins.
'Still… no sign of actual magic users.'
I sighed.
"I really hope this isn't some kind of scam."
I desperately looked around for something, someone, that could lead me down a storyline I could actually get behind. That's when I saw her: a lady at a fortune-telling stand. She stood out immediately. Red hair. Crimson eyes. Dressed like she'd just stepped out of a gothic fashion magazine, but with that mystic fortune-teller flair.
Of course, I walked over.
She looked about my age, maybe a little older, and yeah… she was beautiful. I figured she was probably a scammer, but this is a magic world, so I gave her a shot. Perfect first character meet-up.
I already knew how this would go. She'd tell my fortune and say some dramatic nonsense like, "Your path will be swallowed by darkness," or something along those lines. I walked up confidently.
"Hey, so… can you tell me my fortune?"
No introductions just straight to business. She raised an eyebrow.
"Now, now. Don't you think it's rude to ask someone to do something without introducing yourself?"
Calm. Quiet. Slightly amused.
I could feel it in my bones.
She had potential.
"Fine." I reached out my hand. "I'm... Jack Freeds."
Her eyes went wide when she saw the markings on my arm, like she'd just seen her dead dog come back to life. She yanked me toward the back of her tent.
"Why are you walking around flashing that thing?!"
"What do you mean? Wait… you mean this sweet tattoo?" I lifted my arm. "Yeah. No clue what it is."
She blinked, clearly thrown off by the fact that I wasn't violent—or insane.
"That's… the Rogue Mark. The real one."
"The ones who bear it are said to be natural enemies of the gods. Which means… enemies of the Church." Her voice lowered. "One of the most powerful forces in the world."
Cool worldbuilding, but way too much exposition.
I raised my palm. "Wait. You don't need to explain further."
Churches are usually a big deal. It'd be criminal if I didn't let it build up slowly. They might very well be the main antagonists. I don't need the whole history right now.
I thought, This Rogue stuff can wait too. I can feel it. Anti-hero vibes all over this.
Time to perform.
I thanked her for the info, but she insisted on reading my fortune anyway.
I groaned. "Look, I'm flat broke. I don't even know your currency."
She waved me off. "No charge." Okay, fine. I rolled my eyes and went along.
She drew my Terror without asking a bunch of questions, as if she wasn't shady enough already. Black figure in a hooded cloak. Full moon above. No idea what it meant— all I knew was that it looked so damn cool. I take it back, she was onto something. One glace at that card and I already knew this would be my character from here onward.
"Oh my…" she whispered. "Your path is—" Then she cut herself off and said the words I'd been waiting to hear: "You will tread in darkness and bring about a much-needed dusk."
This woman... this woman, said something that made my heart skip. All I could comprehend from her explanation was anti-hero. I knew this lady was legit, the real deal. I felt like I needed to pay her for telling me such a wonderful fortune, and she even gave me a sweet idea for a nickname to boot. I murmured to myself:
"Night Fallen… yes, it's perfect. I can just picture someone saying it: 'It's him… It's Night Fallen.'"
The lady seemed weirded out by my ramblings, but it didn't matter. I decided to leave at once, ready to finally raise the curtains, and I knew exactly where to start.
I asked the fortune-teller the way to the closest bar. If I was going to be the great anti-hero Night Fallen, I needed intel on the underworld and what better place than a bar?
She pouted for a second, then said, "You said you have no money… and… and you haven't even asked for my name."
"Ohhh… damn," I thought, then said defensively, "Look, I wasn't asking so I could buy a drink."
Then I apologized and asked for her name, I didn't care really I just needed to be gone.
"Rose Valentine," she said. Fascinating. Poetic. Her name literally represents love. Female-lead vibes written all over it.
I shook my head and refocused. "So… the bar?"
She told me the closest one was in a town called Dwarfin Town. Apparently, it was dangerous. Astounding. As soon as I had the directions, I was leaving for real this time.
But she wasn't done. She wanted to come with me. Of course, I couldn't let her. For all I knew, she might just be the heroine. And I wasn't about to mix myself up with that.
She pushed. And pushed.
Then, calmly, she raised a small bag of gold. Not much money, but still money.
"I know you don't know much of this place, and I know you're broke too."
I glared. "Why would you want to come with me and spend your money on me? Are you some kind of psychopath?"
"No," she said, eyes glittering. "See it as an investment. I don't know what's up with you, but I've got a feeling gambling on you will pay off handsomely."
Money, money, money—her eyes screamed it. In that moment, I knew we were the same in one way: compulsive gamblers.
*****
I walked into Dwarfin Town's cesspool of liquor and bad decisions like I owned the place. Rose trailed a few steps behind, arms crossed, giving me that "You going to be a problem and I'm down for it" look. Sidekick energy. I loved it.
The bar reeked of smoke, cheap booze, broken dreams, bald men, prison tattoos—just low-level thugs huddled by the hearth, puffed chests and sharper teeth than brains. Classic.
I ordered like a regular. I'm comfortable in places like these. "Two of your most expensive drinks, one for me and the lady." The barkeep was on it.
Rose said, "You're acting like a big spender, knowing very well the tab's on me."
I reminded her she'd said she wanted to invest in me.
One of them noticed first. "You lost, pretty boy? But I know this pretty little thing isn't." He edged toward Rose. Typical bar scene. Props to him for sticking to the script, I must play my part. Rose slid behind me, but I could tell she was pretending to be scared. Perfect setup. Somebody give her an Academy Award already.
I said casually, "Please. Don't you see you're making the lady uncomfortable?"
Predictably… then he swung. I evaded easily—my body was light and power humming in my bones ever since I got here.
I smirked, spinning the line like a prop. "Oh, don't be ridiculous. Everywhere I go my friend... is the stage."
Rose snorted behind me. "Jeez. He's gonna be more troublesome than I thought."
The thug broke a bottle and aimed for my throat, but I shifted slightly and pushed him with a finger, letting his momentum carry him. He slammed into a bar stool and yelped like a dog who'd just learned about taxes.
Rose clapped slowly. "Bravo. Bravo." While everyone was distracted, she started swiping coins from pockets professionally, like choreography.
The bartender slid my ale over. "You always like to make a scene?"
"Only when it's my part." I took a sip, eyes scanning for gossip. "Heard this is the spot…"
One thug, less dumb than the rest, sneered. "You want info, you pay. No freebies for troublemakers."
Rose stepped forward, dumping the coins she'd swiped onto the counter—ironically, most of it his. "This enough for ya?" she asked.
I shot her a look. "Rose, you surprise me. And here I thought you were the heroine." In my head the idea crossed me: I don't know about an anti-hero having a sidekick, but we'll see. Doesn't hurt to be unique.
The thug spat, then leaned in and whispered, "There's an operation down by the docks. Organization called STIX… allegedly. Shipping something big—maybe a weapon, maybe drugs. Worth millions, supposedly. If you want a shot, take it… but you never heard this from me. Capish?"
These guys were weirdly reliable. Heist target secured. I asked background character #7 where the docks were. He told me too eager, too fast. Suspicious, but useful.
I smirked. "Come now, Rose. Off we go." Then, turning back with full showman energy: "If this turns out to be a bust—" I paused, deadpan, "I'll kill you."
Background character #7 flinched at my glare then I walked out like a champ, because deep down, I knew I'd nailed that line.
Outside, Rose complained we were broke. I pulled the same small bag of coins from my jack. Her eyes glittered. "Jack, you devil."
She then pointed out I looked like a dumpster that grew legs. She didn't say it as harshly, but I got her point. Anyway, she suggested we go shopping. I needed something shadowy—a long black coat or cloak, whatever screamed anti-hero.
The docks at night were a graveyard of steel and salt. The air smelled like rust and seaweed, that kind of damp rot that clings to your clothes. The moon hung low, half swallowed by mist, its reflection breaking apart on the black water like shattered glass. Cargo containers stood like tombstones, stacked in crooked rows, humming faintly under the touch of the ocean wind. A perfect location for my first epic reveal.