Somewhere in a modern world called Earth, the clock ticked forward, indifferent to the people it carried. Inside a fluorescent-lit classroom, rows of desks stood like silent sentinels, occupied by students scribbling notes, gazes flicking between notebooks and the teacher's animated gestures. At the front, the teacher paced, words sharp and chalk trailing across the board. Students nodded, eyes locked in learned obedience.
All but one.
In the back corner of the classroom, alone, sat Ezra Carter. His hair split starkly down the middle—half jet black, half silver like a moonlit scar. Golden eyes watched not the lesson, but the sky outside the window. Cold. Dark. Clever. Silent. Ezra was the quiet storm in the room, the orphan loner whose gaze cut deeper than any word.
Once, he had a family. Once, there had been warmth.
A flash—
Rain spattered the windshield as wipers moved in frantic arcs. The car sped through the downpour, headlights slicing the darkness.
"Ezra," his mother said, turning from the passenger seat. Her voice was soft, like a lullaby. "After the university tour, we'll stop by that bookstore you like."
Ezra, fifteen then, smirked faintly. "Sure. Sounds good."
His father chuckled from the driver's seat. "You're growing up too fast. Next thing I know, you'll be moving out."
Ezra looked out the window. "Maybe. But not yet."
And then—a blinding light.
A horn blared. Tires screamed.
"EZRA!"
The truck appeared out of nowhere, skidding sideways, too fast. Impact.
Metal crumpled. Glass exploded. The world flipped. Ezra was thrown sideways, slammed against his seatbelt. Pain lanced his ribs. He heard his mother cry out. His father groaned.
Smoke filled the car. Ezra coughed, struggling to move. "Mom? Dad?!"
His mother's hand touched his face. Bloody. Shaking. "You're okay... Ezra, run..."
"I'm not leaving you!"
His father turned, face pale, breathing shallow. "Go... now... son..."
Then the gas tank ignited.
Ezra was thrown from the car by the blast. He hit the pavement, dazed, bloodied. The last thing he saw was the car engulfed in flames—and his parents, silhouetted inside.
He screamed until his throat tore.
--
The teacher's voice snapped like a whip. "Ezra Carter! Are you even paying attention?"
All heads turned. A classroom of eyes, judgmental, curious, amused.
Whispers broke like static:
"He never talks."
"Always sitting alone..."
"Creepy eyes."
"Total edgelord."
Ezra turned his gaze slowly toward the teacher—then looked past her, uninterested.
The bell rang, shrill and freeing. Students flooded out. The teacher left with a huff. Ezra remained, the lone shadow in an empty room.
They never stop talking. Always trying to understand what they never will. I don't belong here. Not with them. Not anywhere.
He rose, his footsteps a whisper against linoleum, and walked out.
City streets greeted him with the hum of life—horns, neon signs, conversations weaving together into a blanket of white noise. Ezra moved through it like smoke. Unseen. Untouched.
Life is noise. People pretending to matter in a world that doesn't care. Everything is temporary. Everyone is replaceable.
And then—
the air shifted.
The sky darkened like ink spilling across parchment. The wind held its breath. A glowing circle etched itself beneath his feet—a symbol of ancient power, pulsing with unspoken language.
"What the hell is this?" Ezra murmured.
The light flared.
His body lifted into the air, weightless, powerless.
"What's happening?!"
The light consumed him. And then he was gone.
--
Moments later, another magic circle blazed to life in a world far removed from Earth.
Ezra materialized—feet suspended in air above polished stone. Next to him, another figure hovered. Both dropped to their knees on a glowing platform carved with arcane runes.
Ezra stood slowly, scanning his surroundings.
A boy with emerald green eyes and brushed-back blond hair stood beside him. He wore a school uniform and radiated arrogant grace.
"Where are we?" he asked.
Ezra replied, "Not home. And not Japan either."
The blond boy smirked. "I'm Leonel Grayson. Call me Leo."
Ezra gave him a blank stare. "Ezra Carter."
"Ezra, huh... Where the hell are we?"
They turned.
A cathedral-sized throne room stretched around them—silver-etched marble, floating crystal chandeliers, and red-and-gold banners like regal wings.
Behind them: nobles, knights, priests, mages—all silent.
Flanking the circle stood priests in white and crimson robes, their mouths agape. High-ranking mages with ornate staffs stepped forward, some pale, others trembling. Holy knights kneeled, spears planted like trees rooted in shock.
Ezra and Leo stared.
What the hell is this place?
Then a voice, calm and regal, echoed:
"Welcome, summoned hero. I am King Alaric Vandarion III."
A tall man descended the steps of his throne, royal blue cloak flowing behind him. A silver crown perched atop long black-and-gray hair. His steel-blue eyes scanned them.
He paused, then blinked. "Wait... there are two of you?"
Murmurs spread.
"Another summoned?"
"This was not foretold."
"The ritual... it glitched?"
"An accident?"
Nobles whispered in confusion. Mages narrowed their eyes, whispering calculations, theories.
The king turned sharply. "Archmage Thalorin Greymist… didn't you say the ritual would summon one?"
An elderly man with rune-rimmed violet eyes stepped forward. His hair braided in silver-bound strands, robe ink-dark, and staff humming with power.
"It was supposed to," the Archmage said, voice brittle with confusion. "Something has gone...wrong. A ripple. An interference. Perhaps... a fate-bound accident."
Leo frowned, eyes narrowed as attention shifted to Ezra.
Why is everyone looking at him? I'm the chosen one.
Ezra folded his arms, expression unreadable.
Leo said aloud, "Well, I'm the one you meant to summon, right? This guy just... tripped in."
Ezra replied coldly, "Yeah. And I landed in your spotlight."
The king paused, then nodded. "If fate has brought you both... then perhaps the gods have a purpose we do not yet understand."
He stepped closer. "Welcome, brave souls from another world. You now stand in the kingdom of Vireldra."
His gaze locked on Leo—then lingered on Ezra, unreadable.
There is something in this one. Something buried. Something dangerous.
Ezra remained still, quiet, gold eyes gleaming in the magic-lit hall.
Summoned by accident. Marked by fate. I don't know what this place is... but I know this much: I don't trust anyone here.
And I will survive.
Leo looked at the king with a raised brow. "Why did you summon us here?"
But before King Alaric could answer, a new voice echoed through the throne room—serene, commanding, and cold as ice.
"You were summoned here because we need your help to defeat the Demon Lord, who is awakening."
Ezra and Leo turned toward the source of the voice.
At the top of the staircase, beside the king's throne, sat a striking woman on her own regal seat. She appeared to be in her late 30s, with long platinum-blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, glacial violet eyes like untouched frost, and a beauty carved from dignity and intellect. A crown rested atop her head. Her posture was that of both grace and strategy.
Leo blinked, surprised. "Who are you?"
The king gestured toward her. "This is my wife."
The woman bowed her head ever so slightly. "I am Queen Seraphina Vandarion."
Ezra and Leo both straightened instinctively.
We're standing before the queen of a kingdom, Ezra thought. And she's not just decoration. She commands the room like a general dressed in silk. Dangerous.
Leo grinned inwardly, his eyes scanning her. Beautiful. Powerful. Cold. My type exactly. Even the queen... this place just keeps getting better.
Leo puffed his chest slightly. "I am Leonel Grayson. But call me Leo."
The queen nodded in acknowledgment.
Her gaze then shifted to Ezra.
Ezra paused for a beat. "Ezra Carter."
Another subtle nod.
Then the queen looked to her left. "This is our daughter. The Princess."
The girl beside her stood and stepped forward with gentle confidence. Her long, soft silver-blonde hair was woven into an elegant braid, a velvet ribbon threaded through it. Iridescent lavender eyes sparkled beneath her small crown. She was young, graceful, and radiant, yet there was a soulful depth in her expression.
"I am Princess Elira Vandarion of the Kingdom of Vireldra. It is an honor to meet you, Summoned Hero Leo."
Leo offered a smooth smile. "The honor's mine, Princess."
She's even more beautiful than her mother, Leo thought, eyes gleaming. Kind eyes, delicate features, that innocence... She'll be mine. Easily.
Elira turned her gaze to Ezra. She gave a gentle nod, her curiosity evident.
He looks... different, she thought, her heart fluttering slightly. That hair... those eyes... He feels distant, like he doesn't belong here... like he doesn't belong anywhere. He looks so sad.
Ezra merely watched, unsure how to respond. Inside, his thoughts churned.
She's like light personified. She doesn't know anything about me. No one here does. Don't get attached. Don't show anything.
But why is she looking at me like that?
There was a silence, brief but heavy with possibilities.
Ezra stepped forward, addressing the king directly. "Is there any way to get back home?"
The king's expression shifted, somber and apologetic.
"The truth is... the summoning circle can only bring beings to this world. It cannot send them back. It was built by ancient magic lost to time. I am truly sorry."
Ezra stared at him, unmoved. Of course. I should've known. This place is a trap.
He clenched his fists slightly but said nothing. His eyes glinted like frozen sunlight.
Leo smirked again. Look at him. Still pretending to be cold and quiet. Guess he didn't realize he was stepping into my story. Soon enough, this kingdom will worship me. Him? He'll be a footnote.
Out loud, Leo said, "How am I supposed to defeat the Demon Lord if I don't have powers or skills?"
The king looked toward the archmage.
Thalorin Greymist stepped forward, his violet eyes glowing faintly. "The system of our world recognizes summoned heroes as unique beings. With it comes a hidden potential. All you must do is say the phrase: 'Open Status.' Then your path will begin to unfold."
Ezra narrowed his eyes. A status system? Like a game? He glanced at Leo, then considered trying it himself.
Leo stepped forward. "Open Status."
A violet screen shimmered into view in front of his face, glowing with ethereal symbols and stats.
Ezra followed suit, voice low. "Open Status."
Chapter Three: Status Revealed
Ezra stared at the violet screen glowing before him, its pulsing runes crystallizing into words only he could see. Slowly, he began to read:
Name: Ezra Carter
Age: 18
Race: Human (Otherworlder)
Level: 1
Class: Gluttony Mage
Titles: Summoning Accident, The Unchosen
Health Points: ???
Magic Points: ???
Strength: 6
Agility: 9
Endurance: 7
Mana: 12
Luck: 5
Charm: 3
Hunger Level: Mild
Normal Skills:
Appraisal – Allows the user to analyze objects, people, and magical items for basic information.
Ability Skills:
None
Magic Skills:
None
Unique Skill:
Devour – A forbidden power that consumes physical, magical, or spiritual matter to convert it into strength or abilities. Can absorb skills or traits of defeated enemies. May grow stronger over time with continued use. Carries unknown consequences.
Weapons: —
Items: —
Ezra's jaw clenched slightly. That's it? Just Appraisal... and Devour? No sword skills. No holy blessings. Just hunger?
His heart pounded—and just for a second, his golden irises flashed red before returning to normal. No one seemed to notice.
Devour... what the hell does that even mean?
Whispers rippled through the room as nobles, priests, and mages glanced toward the glowing screen floating in front of Ezra.
"A Gluttony Mage...?"
"I've never heard of such a class."
"He has only two skills? Surely, that's a mistake."
The king and queen exchanged glances.
King Alaric's eyes narrowed. Gluttony is one of the Forbidden Paths... not seen since the Age of Ruin. Why did the circle bring him?
Queen Seraphina folded her hands calmly, but her thoughts churned. A wild variable. A class tied to ancient magic. He may be more dangerous—or more useful—than we thought.
Up on the throne steps, Princess Elira watched quietly, her lavender eyes reflecting the violet glow. Devour... it sounds terrifying. But... he doesn't seem evil. Just lost. Hurt. Alone.
Suddenly, a shout broke through the murmuring crowd.
"AWESOME!"
Leo's voice echoed off the marble walls.
Ezra turned.
Leo grinned, admiring his own radiant status screen.
Name: Leonel "Leo" Grayson
Age: 18
Race: Human (Otherworlder – Hero Variant)
Level: 1
Class: Radiant Hero
Titles: Chosen of the Light, Hero of Prophecy, Savior of the Realm, Worldwalker
Health Points: 68
Magic Points: 55
Strength: 17
Agility: 15
Endurance: 16
Mana: 22
Luck: 20
Charm: 19
Normal Skills:
Swordsmanship – Proficient in melee combat using swords.
Battle Intuition – Ability to sense incoming danger and adapt to enemy attacks quickly.
Bravery Aura – Boosts morale of allies and reduces fear effects.
Enhanced Recovery – Accelerated healing of wounds and stamina.
Ability Skills:
Holy Light Slash – A high-speed blade attack imbued with sacred light.
Hero's Step – Temporarily boosts agility and movement speed.
Mana Channeling – Improves magic flow efficiency, strengthening spell output.
Divine Guard – Forms a shield of holy light to absorb damage.
Magic Sword Skills:
Lightblade Manifestation – Summons a sword of pure radiant energy.
Blessed Strike – Empowers a melee attack with holy damage.
Holy Cleave – Wide-range slashing attack that damages multiple enemies with sacred force.
Unique Skill:
Divine Authority – Hero's Radiance – Boosts all stats when protecting innocents or fighting evil. Grants resistance to fear, curses, and mind control. Allows invocation of divine will once per week to turn the tide of battle.
Weapon: Goddess-Forged Sword [Lightfang]
Items: Radiant Hero Starter Kit (Blessed gear, sacred coins, elixirs)
Leo's smirk widened. This is it. I'm the real hero. Savior of the Realm? Yes, please.
He glanced at Ezra. Poor guy. Gluttony Mage? Devour? What kind of bottom-tier curse is that?
Out loud, he said with forced sympathy, "Hey man, it's okay. Not everyone starts with a full hand. I'm sure... Appraisal can come in handy."
Ezra didn't respond. His eyes remained on his screen.
Gluttony Mage. Devour. Unchosen. If I wasn't meant to be here... then what am I here for?
The moment Leo's status screen lit the chamber, the throne room burst with excitement. Nobles and royal mages leaned forward with awe in their eyes, unable to contain their elation.
"So many skills!"
"A divine weapon?!"
"Radiant Hero... The one the prophecy foretold!"
"He truly is chosen by the light!"
They all whispered and gasped, their gazes shimmering with belief.
King Alaric and Queen Seraphina exchanged glances.
So it's true, the king thought. The Radiant Hero of the prophecy has appeared. With that kind of power... he may indeed be able to defeat the Demon Lord.
He is light incarnate, Seraphina mused. Power like his could change the fate of Vireldra forever. And his influence... it must be shaped.
Princess Elira's eyes lingered on Leo's screen.
His skills... they're beautiful and powerful. Holy Cleave... Divine Authority... This is what the kingdom hoped for. But why does something about him feel... unsettling beneath the shine?
Leo relished the atmosphere. Applause. Admiration. The gaze of the powerful on him.
Finally, he thought. The world sees what I am. A true hero. I will show them I am the greatest. They will love me. Worship me. And that orphan freak? He'll fade to the background.
Ezra stood silent, but he observed everything. Every smile. Every praise. Every hungry gaze directed at Leo.
So that's who he really is, Ezra thought. Let him have the spotlight. I'm not interested in praise. I just want answers. A path.
His eyes lowered. And I want to go home.
As if hearing his thoughts, King Alaric turned to both boys.
"Radiant Hero Leo. Ezra. I want you to meet some important people."
He gestured to a man standing at his side.
The man was like a flame made flesh—thin but commanding. His white hair was slicked back from a widow's peak, a long forked beard braided with golden chains and flame sigils. His vestments were crimson and gold, embroidered with burning suns and radiant swords. A seven-spiked headdress crowned his head, and a scepter topped with a flaming orb rested in his grasp.
"I am Cardinal Vexim of the Holy Flame," he said. "Leader of the Church of Vireldra."
Leo beamed. A high-ranking church leader? Excellent.
"It's an honor to meet someone of your stature," Leo said smoothly.
Vexim smiled, his tone warm. "The pleasure is all mine, Radiant Hero Leo."
Then his golden eyes slid to Ezra. For a heartbeat, his gaze hardened. Cold. Dismissive. Contempt.
Ezra had seen that look before.
Vexim's lips curled into a false smile. "Ahh... and the accidental summon, Ezra. I'm sorry you were torn from your home. I hope you find... peace here."
Ezra nodded once, knowing the meaning beneath those words. He doesn't mean that. He wants me gone.
King Alaric gestured again, this time toward a girl beside Vexim.
She looked around seventeen. Delicate and graceful, with shoulder-length snow-white hair and soft crystal blue eyes. She wore flowing white and gold robes with spiral sun motifs and a silver-threaded belt of runes. Her staff shimmered with a sunburst gem.
"I am Saintess Mireille," she said gently. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Radiant Hero Leo. Ezra Carter."
Leo's eyes sparkled. So this is the saintess... beautiful, holy, and mine for the taking.
"The pleasure is all mine," he said with a grin. "I hope we get to know each other very well."
She'll be in my party for sure, he thought. And maybe more.
Ezra gave her a small nod.
Cardinal Vexim turned to her. "You will be his light, Mireille. The boy is young, proud, and blessed. But blessings without guidance become wildfire. He is the blade. You are the hand that steadies it."
Leo's grin widened. Perfect. The Church backs me. She's mine. Ezra? He can enjoy being irrelevant.
Vexim added, "He must not stray from the Flame's path. And if he does... you must be the one to bring him back."
Mireille nodded, smiling softly. "It is my duty to guide the Radiant Hero, to protect this world from darkness."
"Good," Vexim said. "Make the Church proud."
"I will, Cardinal Vexim."
"And now," said King Alaric, "the last guest."
A tall man stood to the side—mid-forties, lean and cold-eyed. His raven-black hair was swept back and clasped with silver. His violet military coat bore the emblem of a wolf, and a ceremonial saber hung at his hip.
"I am Duke Malrec Ravonis of Duskmarch," he said, voice like steel. "Grand Strategist of the Northern Wall."
He turned to Leo. "The kingdom is lucky. A true hero has come to save them."
Leo nodded, grinning. Duke? Military leader? Everyone loves me.
Malrec looked at Ezra briefly. A nod. A moment of unreadable calculation.
Ezra returned it in silence.
King Alaric smiled. "That is everyone. Radiant Hero Leo, your training begins today. You'll need it against the Demon Lord's army."
Leo saluted playfully. "I'm ready. I'll show the demons what happens when they mess with light."
"Good," the king said. "Instructors await you at the training grounds."
Leo turned to go, then smirked and waved at Ezra. "See ya around, Ezra."
Ezra nodded once.
Mocking me even now, he thought. He can play his game. I'll find my own path.
Leo's thoughts echoed behind his smile. I'm the real deal. This kingdom belongs to me. Power. Women. Glory. Ezra's just background noise.
Leo disappeared through the golden doors.
The nobles, mages, Cardinal Vexim, and Duke Malrec bowed and departed.
None looked at Ezra.
Ezra stood alone with the royal family.
He said nothing.
King Alaric stepped down from the dais and stood before Ezra.
"Why don't you train as well? With the knights. See what you can do."
Ezra looked at him, golden eyes unreadable.
He's... being kind to me? That's surprising.
Queen Seraphina nodded. "Yes. Test your powers. Find your limits."
Princess Elira stepped forward. "Stay at the palace. Let us help you."
Ezra looked at the three of them. Their warmth. Their smiles.
A flash of memory.
His mother laughing.
His father's hand on his shoulder.
Fire. Screams.
Ezra lowered his head, fist clenched.
Elira noticed the shift in his expression. "Are you okay?"
Ezra shook his head. "I'm sorry. I can't stay. I appreciate your kindness... but I need to make it on my own. Without anyone's help."
King Alaric studied him.
That fire in his eyes... reminds me of someone. Of me, long ago.
He chuckled and nodded. "Then go, my boy."
The king motioned to an attendant. The man returned moments later carrying a tray.
Ezra looked down. A black and crimson knife. And a heavy bag.
"If you are to walk your own path," the king said, "then take these. A parting gift. The knife of Umbra Steel... and eighty million in gold."
Ezra blinked, surprised. He met the king's eyes.
"Thank you," he said quietly, taking the blade and bag.
"Good luck, Ezra," the queen said gently.
"Be careful," Elira added, her voice soft. "And stay healthy."
Ezra nodded.
He turned and left with the attendant, passing beneath the golden archway.
Outside the palace, Ezra stopped and looked up at the sky. The sun filtered through the clouds, casting golden light over Vireldra.
He took a deep breath.
No way back. No easy path. Just me and the road ahead.
Let the journey begin.
Ezra walked through the bustling streets of Vireldra's capital, leaving the royal palace behind as cobblestones echoed under his boots. The city was alive, bursting with energy, unfamiliar and strange. His mind raced.
What am I supposed to do now? Where do I even start? he thought. I need to understand this Devour skill... but first, I need a place to sleep.
He weaved through crowds, the clamor of the marketplace growing louder with every step. And then he heard it.
"The Radiant Hero was summoned today! Did you hear?"
"They say he appeared in the throne room in a burst of light!"
"He holds a sword made by the gods themselves!"
"The Hero of Prophecy… he's finally come to save us!"
Excitement buzzed through the air like electricity. Children ran past him in groups, yelling and laughing.
"He can slay demons in a single strike!"
"My mom says he glows like the sun!"
"I want to be a hero too!"
Ezra kept walking, golden eyes narrowed. So that's the story now. Leo, the radiant hero. Hope wrapped in flesh.
He exhaled slowly. And me? The accident they pretend not to see.
Vendors called out from their stalls:
"Fresh meat pies! Still warm!"
"Crisp fruit, rare spices!"
"Traveler cloaks, good against wind and rain!"
The street bustled with life, but Ezra moved through it like a ghost. As he passed a blacksmith hammering away at steel, he spotted a small clothing store tucked beside a lantern shop. He stopped, glancing down at his shirt and jeans—his old world wrapped around him like an ill-fitting shell.
I can't keep walking around like this. I don't belong in this world, but I don't need to look like it too.
He stepped inside.
A bell jingled above the door.
"Welcome!" the shopkeeper chirped—a plump woman with pins between her teeth, measuring tape around her neck. "How may I help you today?"
"Just looking," Ezra said flatly.
He wandered through the store, his fingers brushing against cloaks, tunics, belts, boots. He paused at a sleek ensemble—black and silver clothes, a long silver-trimmed coat, and fingerless gloves.
These feel right. Simple. Quiet. Like armor for someone who doesn't want to be seen.
He gathered the items and walked to the counter.
"I'll take these."
"Fitting room's just there, dear."
Ezra nodded and went to change. Inside the dressing room, he stared at his reflection.
The boy from Earth was gone. In his place stood someone sharper, darker, quiet as shadow and just as certain.
He nodded to himself, left the changing room, paid, and stepped back into the street.
Night had begun to fall. Lanterns flickered to life across the street, casting warm glows on windows and stone.
Soon, a weathered sign caught his eye: The Broken Chalice Inn & Tavern.
The building stood firm, a two-story structure of stone and old enchanted oak. A faded golden chalice on the sign hung above, cracked clean through. Wrought iron lanterns swayed on the wind, orange light dancing across the cobblestone steps. A stable sat beside it, quiet and sturdy.
Rough. Solid. Feels real, Ezra thought. This will do.
He pushed open the heavy door.
A firelit glow greeted him. The scent of roasted meat, cheap ale, and smoke filled the air. Wooden beams ran across the ceiling, darkened by age. Conversations buzzed beneath the crackle of a great hearth.
Then silence.
Heads turned.
A few customers looked straight at him.
"Newcomer, huh."
"Haven't seen him before."
"Looks like trouble. Or maybe just quiet."
Ezra held their gaze for a moment, then walked in, unbothered. He passed a few drinkers at their mugs and a woman laughing with a companion.
An old man behind the bar said nothing, polishing a mug.
But a woman approached him.
"Hello," she said smoothly. "I'm Nia Aeralis. Barmaid. What can I do for you?"
She was lean, curvy, ash-blonde hair cascading in soft waves. Her green-gold eyes flicked over him, perceptive. Her tavern dress was modest but moved with confidence.
Ezra didn't flinch. "Room. Food. Please."
Nia blinked, then smirked. Cold. Direct. But not rude.
"Sure. That'll be four silvers."
Ezra pulled a gold coin from his pouch.
Nia's eyes widened. "This is... too much."
"Keep it."
She studied him for a second. Who pays extra without blinking?
She handed him a key. "Room 4. Food will be up shortly."
"Thanks."
As Ezra climbed the stairs, Nia returned to the bar.
The old man grunted. "New customer?"
"Yeah," Nia said. "Kinda quiet. Cold. But polite."
He studied her expression.
"You think he's trouble?"
"I don't know yet. He's got that look. Like someone who doesn't belong, but fits anyway."
The man smirked. "Still sharp, aren't you? Nia the Seer."
She grinned. "You taught me."
He chuckled. "Well, if I still had my leg, I'd be watching that one closely."
"You are watching him closely."
He laughed. "Fair point."
Ezra reached the upper floor, turning a corner—
—and collided with a thin, wiry boy who fell flat.
"Ouch! Hey! Watch where you're—"
He looked up.
Ezra's golden eyes stared back.
The boy froze.
Ezra offered a hand.
The boy took it. Ezra helped him up.
"Who... who are you?"
"Ezra."
"I'm Tim! Nice to meet you!"
Ezra nodded once and walked past.
Tim stood there, stunned. That guy... he looks like the start of a legend.
Ezra reached Room 4, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.
It was small but warm. A bed, a desk, a fireplace. The air smelled like cedar.
He sat on the bed, pulled off his gloves, and lay back.
He stared at the ceiling.
Summoned. Branded. Labeled. Forgotten.
The radiant hero has the spotlight. Let him have it.
I'll walk my path.
His eyes closed.
Whatever this world throws at me... I'll survive it.
And Ezra fell asleep.
To be continued...