I woke up, confused. The light was extremely bright. Where was I? What was going on?

“Dear, I think he’s awake.”

“He has your eyes, honey! Look at him!”

I blinked a few times. There were two strange people looking at me. Why was I on the ground? What was I doing? The woman especially looked strange. Her ears were pointy- Wait a minute. Pointy. Elf. Memories flooded into my brain. My life on Earth, the camp, Celestia, this world-

“Do you see that, Hart? You have a baby brother!”

I struggled to roll over and saw a toddler crawling on the ground. Presumably, this was Hart. An older sibling, perhaps? I tried to say something, but all that came out of my mouth were babbling noises. I was picked up and got a good view of my new parents.

My mother had smooth silver hair that was tied in a neat ponytail, hanging down to her waist. Her figure was slim and elegant, attractively so, but she didn’t look frail or weak in the slightest. Far from it. She exuded a sense of danger and sharpness that didn’t match her appearance. Despite this, she looked at me with an expression of love.

My father was huge. He was handsome and built like a tank, further accented by his sharp jawline, rough beard and flaming red hair, but there was nothing but joy in his face as he looked down at me, his body overshadowing my crib. His rippling muscles and massive build might’ve been intimidating to an enemy, but in this moment, he was more like a friendly, huggable bear.

“Do you see that? He’s trying to talk!”

“Mama. Say mama.”

I wanted to frown, but I couldn’t. My face wouldn’t let me. These few years would be very, very hard. I was being held, and there wasn’t a single thing I could do about it. If someone tried to kill me right now, I’d be helpless to do anything about it. It didn’t feel bad, though. My mother, holding me in her embrace, a warm feeling seeping into my chest as she rocked me back and forth.

“Welcome to the world, Destiny.”

A sensation long since forgotten was seeping through me. I was safe. I was home. I had a family. The conversation I’d had with Celestia was coming back to me.

A peaceful life. I wanted to be happy.

And in the moment, that was exactly the emotion I felt. Nothing else.

~~~

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. As a baby, I wasn’t expected to know much, but my mind had been kept intact, much to my displeasure. Being a baby was incredibly exhausting. Regardless, I was able to pick up on as much as I could. My father’s name was Alan, and my mother’s name was Haze. My sister, as mentioned before, was Hart. We were of the Windwalker family.

I myself had taken on a completely new appearance. Looking at myself in the mirror was a completely new experience. I had sleek silver hair like my mother, although there wasn’t much of it. My eyes were golden, almost hypnotizingly so. I wasn’t even aware that eyes could be that colour.

My parents must not have known that I could understand them, because they were rather open about what they talked about in front of me. I quickly learned that my family was not entirely average. We had servants and a rather luxurious home, as well as weapons stored all over the place.

The Windwalker family were the royal bodyguards of the royal Elven family. Children were raised to be excellent warriors, and the best of them were chosen to protect the direct lineage of the royal family. Those incapable of keeping up were ignored. It seemed rough, but this wasn’t Earth. It was a different culture altogether, one I was very unfamiliar with. It was like something out of a fairy tale.

Months turned into years, and I began to learn about the world. I learned about magic, the system of fighters and casters, as well as their rankings. Celestia had informed me of these things in passing, but learning about it in detail was incredibly interesting. It was such a different system than the one I’d grown used to on Earth.

But the most fascinating thing of all was seeing magic with my own eyes.

I’d only ever used guns and knives, with the occasional upgrade on tougher missions. Seeing fire coming out from my mother’s hands or a whirlwind being commanded by my father, though, was something else entirely. It was something I’d only ever dreamed of.

At the age of three, I was personally introduced to the royal family. The king and queen seemed like kind people, wise and fair. From what I’d seen of the outside world, the people had a positive opinion of them. I’d been left in a crib while the adults talked, and since a three year old wouldn’t understand much, they talked freely. They had a daughter named Celestia who was my age, but I didn’t think much of it. After all, she was the royal princess. Why would I ever interact with someone like that?

From that point on, I began training. It seemed that children were expected to mature much faster here, because I was put through various physical training regiments that expected me to suck up pain and push through. My mother and father were very kind about it, but the saying “no pain, no gain” really meant a lot in this world.

By age five, I was talking and moving much more comfortably. I did physical training when my parents weren’t watching to further improve my growth. Exercises I’d learned from my days in the camp quickly toughened my body up. Unfortunately, the more I aged, the more I was capable of regressing to my previous self. Instinctive reactions, mannerisms and speech habits slipped through, which my parents thankfully never noticed.

My sister was also growing quickly. Even with my extra exercises, I couldn’t catch up to her growth. It was crazy. At the age of seven, she was doing sparring with my mother that shocked me to my core. It was similar to the type of combat we did at the camp. The thing was, people from that camp died from the training alone. And here was a seven year old child, doing the same kind of sparring as if she were playing on a playground. How was this even possible?

I found out soon enough. Finally, on my sixth birthday, I learned magic. My father taught me about mana, the core of every mage to ever exist. It was hard for me to understand. Physical training was easy since I was familiar with it, but mana was something I had no experience with.

This was where the goddess’s blessing came in handy. Although I hate to sound egotistical, I was a genius. There was no other way to put it. If I had had these kinds of abilities back on Earth, would things have been different? Would I have been able to change anything? Thoughts like these plagued my mind, but there was nothing I could do about it.

Soon, I was sparring just like Hart, albeit a little bit slower. My mother was an insanely talented fighter. My father told me that she was always too embarrassed to admit it, but she was an SS rank core fire mage that specialised in close quarters combat, having obtained the rank of master. Even with all my past life experience, I could never get one over her. She was simply too good. The aura of danger I’d experienced since my birth was making sense now. I couldn’t even begin to imagine her losing.

My father taught me magic. Despite his massive build, he was quite the scholar. He was actually rather gentle, to the point that he seemed shy in front of others. My mother told me that he was a 7th circle wind mage.

So here I was, a genius hero born from two insanely talented parents. Power. It was what I’d wanted, and it was what I’d gotten.

Hart, my sister, wasn’t falling behind in any way, either. Her weapon was this comically large hammer, but there was nothing comical about the way she fought with it. She’d quickly found out that her aptitude was that of a fighter, and she wasted no time in developing that skill. At age eight, she was swinging her twenty pound hammer as if it were a stick. I’d learned to fear that hammer. After all, I was often on the receiving end of its blows. Despite this, I couldn’t have asked for a better older sister. She was tough on me, but she was just as protective as she was teasing.

I had very few memories of my past family, but I couldn’t imagine that they were any better than the one I had here. I was starting to forget the reason I was here. Life was too comfortable, too easy.

That was going to change on my eighth birthday.

~~~

“Don’t go out too far, alright?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“You have your sword and your supplies. Remember. It’s a short trip. Just follow the path, grab the marker, and come back.”

“Mom, we’ve been over this, like, ten times!”

My mother grabbed my shoulders and looked me in the eyes.

“This is an important test for the Windwalkers, Des. If you can’t do this… it would be very bad.”

“Why? Will I be exiled or something?”

“Something like that,” my father said quietly. “Des. Your sister passed easily. I trust in you, too. Go make us proud.”

I nodded, staring deep into the forest. I’d spoken of exile as a joke, but the way my father responded made me remember. Children were expected to grow up quickly here. It was possible I would actually be exiled. Throwing a child out onto the streets wasn’t all that frowned upon, especially for a family with strength and prestige. And in this world, the strange thing was that the child would probably be able to make it on their own. That didn’t matter, though. It wouldn’t be happening to me any time soon.

The Windwalker initiation test. The goal was to send a child out into a forest filled with beasts, acquire a medallion at the end of a path, and return. The trip would take about ten hours. Most children returned.

Some didn’t.

I gulped as I headed into the forest. This was easy. I’d done far, far worse in my previous life. I could do this. The first two hours were a breeze. I was making a decent pace with a light jog, noting everything around me. I marked certain unique areas in my mind in order to keep on track, took frequent sips of water and took one stop to eat a piece of dried meat.

No beasts were around. Around the third hour, I slowed down. No beasts was good, but it was also strange. The forest was quiet. There should’ve been sounds. The rustling of leaves, the flapping of wings, the chittering of animals. There was none of it. I could feel the blood pumping through my body as I unsheathed my short sword.

I continued slowly but steadily, keeping an ear out for anything out of the ordinary. Suddenly, I heard a rustling, followed by a whimper. A whimper? Likely an injured animal. I don’t know why, but something compelled me to check it out. Keeping track of where I was, I headed toward the source of the sound.

I found a small pink fox laying on the ground, bleeding and unconscious. It had nine tails.

“Mana beast,” I whispered, watching carefully. There weren’t supposed to be any mana beasts in this forest. What was going on?

I’d been taught about mana beasts, but not enough to know what to do in this situation. Still, if it was a mana beast, it would be better to help it. I’d been told stories of mana beasts repaying debts, or, in even rarer cases, becoming a bond. Something like that would definitely be an incredible asset.

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I stepped forward to help it, but stopped as a slithering sound whistled through the air. It was sharp and quick, unlike the sound of a regular snake.

I crouched low, scanning the ground for movement but found nothing. What was going on? Were snakes attacking a nine-tailed fox? Regular beasts typically never attacked mana beasts. The difference in power was simply too large for regular beasts to even imagine attacking a mana beast. Was I dealing with snake type mana beasts as well?

My attention went back to the fox as it whimpered again.

“I’ll get you out of here,” I said. I didn’t know if it could understand me, but the words were mostly to reassure myself anyway. I picked it up, but it started shaking its head, emitting high pitched whines. A warning. The sound of snakes was louder than ever.

“What the-”

A snake leapt out of the grass, heading right for the fox. I quickly swung my sword, and to my surprise, I missed. It didn’t matter. I activated mana reinforcement, intending to hunt down and kill the beast, but then something made me freeze up.

The sound of slithering was growing louder and louder. And it wasn’t because the snake was getting closer.

The sound of slithering was multiplying.

“...shit,” I cursed. There was only one option.

Run.

I picked the fox up and got out of there, running as fast as my legs could take me. The sound of slithering wasn’t getting any quieter. Why? Why were these snakes chasing this fox? Surely they had better prey to go for. No, in the first place, why were they so strong?

I didn’t know where I was going anymore. I just ran for my life. I ran and ran and ran until I couldn’t run anymore, then collapsed, sweat pouring down my face as my chest heaved for air.

Despite my fatigue, I was still listening for the sound of snakes. I couldn’t hear anything. I slowed down. It was risky, but I was running out of energy, and I needed a quieter environment to listen better. There was nothing. I fell onto my back, my clothes drenched with sweat. I would’ve used mana recovery had I not been in such a dangerous situation

I don’t know how much time passed, but eventually, I got back up. Reaching into my bag, I took out a cask of water and drained the entire thing, my parched throat greedy for liquids. I was wise enough not to drink too much. Cramps would kill me later on, especially with the oddities going on in this forest.

Thirst satiated, I checked on the fox. It was unconscious again, its chest rising and falling as it tried to breathe. Its injuries were severe.

“...fine,” I muttered, reaching into my bag. I only had one potion, and it was meant to be used in case of emergencies. Was I really going to use it on a mana beast?

…I guess I was.

With trembling fingers, I uncorked the bottle and poured the red liquid all over the fox. The wounds visibly closed up and healed themselves, and the fox’s breathing began to stabilize. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least one good thing had come out of this. Now all I needed to do was grab the medallion and find my way home.

…where was I?

~~~

“Sir, it is time for lunch. Please come out when you are ready.”

Fate stretched as the servant began to set up a camp.

“So that’s how you and Kit met?”

“Yeah,” Destiny said with a fond smile. “It feels like a long time ago. Even though it’s only been a few years.”

“No shit. You couldn’t kill a few snakes?”

“Can you?” Destiny shot back.

“Obviously.”

“...and how are you going to do that?”

“Grenade? Rocket launcher? …hydrogen bomb?”

Destiny stared. “Seriously?”

“What? It’s a viable solution.”

Destiny just shook his head. “Come on, let’s just go eat. You’re insufferable.”

He opened the door and hopped out of the carriage, Kit trotting after him. John arched his back and stretched, then turned his head to see Prota doing the same thing. She was remarkably like a cat. Now that he thought about it, her behaviour was pretty cat-like.

…where was he going with this?

“Prota? What do you think of Destiny’s story?”

“Interesting,” Prota nodded, eyes shining. She seemed to really enjoy it.

John had to admit, this type of story was a cookie cutter story for a reason. It was popular. Unpopular stories didn’t get copied. Besides, there was something comforting about the familiarity of such a story, and something even nicer about hearing it for the first time.

The more he heard Destiny’s story, the more he was convinced that this was just an average fantasy isekai. In fact, this set up felt quite ripped off from a few stories he’d read before. A lot of Destiny’s story sounded oddly familiar, even down to some of the specifics, such as his abilities or family.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. Just because a story was cookie cutter didn’t mean it was necessarily a bad one. Sure, it wasn’t a work of art. Sure, it wasn’t a deep story with a heavy and thoughtful message. But it was the kind of story one could sit down and enjoy, a story one could talk about with friends, a thing to laugh about, to insult, to critique and praise.

A story was something you could use to escape reality, if not just for a little bit.

Did that mean the quality of the story was actually his fault? Was he actively ruining a fun story? Maybe his existance was taking a cookie cutter story and actively turning it into an unreadable one.

No. It was the [Author’s] fault for putting him in this world in the first place. It definitely wasn’t his fault. Right, wasn’t this his motto? Blame the [Author] for everything. So easy. So simple.

“Your life is pretty interesting too,” John pointed out. “Look at everything you’ve done.”

“That’s because Prota is in a story,” she said. “Right?”

“Well… yeah. I guess”

“...?”

“I don’t- ah, it’s too much work to think about it.”

“Prota is not in a story?”

“I- I don’t know,” John sighed. “Sure. We’re in a [Story]. But, well, it’s a little different for us.”

Prota nodded. “Nn. No more sadness.”

“Um… yeah. That’s right,” John said, turning away as he grimaced.

[Anomaly]. He still had no idea what that was. Zero told him he had control, but to what degree could he control his own fate? To what degree did his abilities as a [Writer] come into play? Where did his identity as a [Character] start, and where did his identity as a [Writer] end?

He didn’t know.

~~~

The sun was starting to set, and I was beginning to grow nervous. While mana beasts didn’t reside in this forest, dangerous beasts arose at night, and while a dire wolf was manageable on its own, a pack of dire wolves was not.

I couldn’t find any of the markers I’d noticed before. I’d been so wrapped up in my panic that I hadn’t kept track of where I was, and now I was completely lost. It was still possible to get home, but without the medallion, there was no point.

I couldn’t go back now.

“Dammit…” I’d been so careful to track my steps, but what purpose did those marks serve me now?

I had no choice but to keep walking. I walked and walked, using the sun as a general means of direction to help guide me on my way. It wasn’t much, but it was helpful. I stopped keeping track of time, but I knew I was in trouble when I saw the sun low in the horizon.

Suddenly, I saw it. A glint. Without hesitation, I rushed over, praying with all my might that it was what I needed it to be.

“The medallion!”

I snatched it with greedy hands, staring at it with shining eyes. Finally, I could get out of this god-forsaken forest. I cast a nervous glance, making sure there was nothing nearby. The trees cast long shadows, making it easy to remain hidden, and the eyes and ears of beasts were definitely better than my own senses.

There was nothing to it but to get home as quickly as possible.

I chanted a quick spell, infusing my feet with wind to accelerate my movement, hoping that my footsteps would remain quiet. I followed the path as best I could, keeping my hand on my sword in case of emergency. I occasionally heard rustles here and there, but all I could do was hope that they were the product of my imagination and not a hungry dire wolf waiting to pounce on me. There was no time to stop.

I was starting to recognize the marks I’d seen on my way. I was close. Another half hour of running would get me home. The sun was almost fully down, but this was the worst time of all. Normally, the moon and the stars would’ve provided enough light for me to adapt to the darkness, but the light from the sun was still bright enough that the moon couldn’t overpower it, leaving me basically blind to any threats hiding in the shadows. I prayed to the gods I’d been taught about, but unfortunately, they weren’t going to move the celestial bodies for something like this.

I was almost home. So close.

“Come on-”

But it was never that easy.

In my way stood a giant growling dire wolf, saliva dripping from its fangs as it slowly paced around me, eyeing me cautiously. I wasn’t sure why it wasn’t attacking immediately, but I couldn’t beat it in a head-on fight. The beast was bigger than me. I slowly unsheathed my sword, but what was it going to do?

The beast snarled, its movements becoming more and more aggressive. I felt a bead of sweat drip down my face as my heart tried to pound its way out of my chest, the blood rushing in and out of my brain.

Suddenly, it stopped. I saw its massive muscles tense, and I knew what was coming next.

I was prey, and it was the predator.

With a giant roar, it launched forward, claws and fangs as it attacked with the intent to kill. My body moved before my brain could think, throwing itself out of the way in time to survive. I was lucky. No child would’ve survived such an attack. It was thanks to my years of training as a soldier that had allowed me to dodge.

I gathered myself as it turned around, seemingly surprised that it had failed to accomplish its goal. It began to pace again, snarling, eyeing me suspiciously. I pulled out my sword, but what would that do? I would die before I could swing even a single time.

Was this it? Was I destined to die here, to a beast, before I could do anything else?

I saw the wolf get ready, and this time, it wouldn’t miss. With shaky hands, I readied my sword. This was it. I would hit it, or it would kill me.

Suddenly, a giant blast of fire shot forward, knocking the beast away. There was an explosion as the fire engulfed the dire wolf, burning it to ashes. My head swivelled side to side, looking for the new threat, but I couldn’t see anything. What had done such a thing? What could fire such a spell? Had my parents come to look for me?

There was nothing, though, but the sound of a burning fire and the wind blowing through the trees. I heard myself gulp as I picked up my bag. It felt lighter.

The fox. Where was it?

I heard a little squeak and saw it sitting calmly to the side, eyeing me. It looked playful, somehow.

“...was that you?”

The fox seemed to nod. It got up and started walking toward me, then leapt up and jumped back into my bag.

“Do you… want to come with me?”

It was illogical to expect the fox to speak, but it burrowed its way into my bag and stayed there. I, too, didn’t move as the stress in my body melted away. I slowly sheathed my sword, my hands still shaking, and eventually, I made my way back home.

“Des!” I heard my father yell, rushing out of the house. “Are you ok?”

“I’m… a little tired…” I mumbled, my vision growing dark.

“Did you-”

“I got it,” I muttered, holding up my medallion. That was right. Everything had turned out all right in the end.

“Good job, son,” I heard my father say as I fell into his arms.