High school had always been a complete shitshow for Max. A bit on the small side with shaggy brown hair, he was as funny as he was stupid—constantly coming up with absurd ideas that only his misfit crew seemed to appreciate. Every damn day, Max did his best to fade into the background—ducking into corners, coming up with lame excuses, and hiding behind his locker. The halls were filled with kids whose only mission was to remind him how much of a screw-up he was. But at least he had his gang: Chillie, Silas, and Pitch—each a misfit in their own right, and the only ones who truly got his offbeat humor.
Max’s home life wasn’t much better. His parents were always away for work, leaving him to fend for himself, while his older brother, who’d been in college when Max was born, was a ghost in his life. They kept in touch sporadically, often exchanging stupid fights over minor shit, yet his brother still cared deeply, even if he was always busy traveling and working. Max never quite knew what to make of it all, feeling both abandoned and oddly connected to someone who barely had time for him.
That fateful day, Max was trying to impress Chillie with a half-assed joke about a "secret trick" to dodge bullies. “You know, sometimes you just gotta act like you’re invisible,” he declared, puffing out his chest like he was about to drop the ultimate truth bomb. Chillie, ever the athletic idiot with a knack for believing anything—even if it was clearly bullshit—smirked in that half-amused, half-doubtful way. Meanwhile, a couple of other losers exchanged knowing glances from across the corridor.
But fate, as always, had a sick sense of humor. Just as Max was getting into his spiel, his nervous excitement reached a breaking point. In a moment of pure, unadulterated idiocy, he accidentally pissed himself—right on Baxter, the school’s biggest and meanest bully. Baxter roared, “You’re dead meat!” His booming voice echoed down the hall while his face twisted in shock and rage. The corridor, normally filled with boring chatter, fell silent for a split second before erupting into waves of laughter and ridicule.
“Fuck, man!” someone shouted, and the snickering began in full force. Even Chillie couldn’t help but burst out laughing, his athletic frame shaking as he joined in the mockery. It was a moment of pure humiliation that left Max wishing he could just vanish.
After that monumental shitshow, a teacher practically dragged him to the school clinic. “Get your sorry ass over here!” she barked, barely hiding her disgust. Inside the cramped, antiseptic clinic, the school nurse, Ms. Park, shot him a look filled with both pity and annoyance. “Jesus Christ, what happened to you?” she demanded as she checked his bruises—both the physical ones and the ones to his pride. “Man, I didn’t even get a chance to explain,” Max mumbled, his face burning hotter than the midday sun. Ms. Park just sighed, “Well, you’re gonna have to sit tight until we figure this out.”
Lying on that cold, hard bed, Max felt his world shrink to nothing. His mind, always prone to wild daydreams, started churning out ridiculous ideas for revenge—not some clever, cunning plan that would terrify Baxter, but a series of stupid schemes that were as absurd as they were pointless. He even thought about rigging Baxter’s locker with a load of Chillie’s shit and hair for DNA, hoping that this twisted joke might somehow teach Baxter a lesson. It was a desperate fantasy, all he had left to cling to amid the crushing humiliation.
Then, out of nowhere, a deep, unexpected voice boomed through the room: “Hero!” The word hung in the air like a sour aftertaste, and Max jerked upright, nearly forgetting his misery for a split second. “Wha—who said that?” he stammered, scanning the room as if someone were lurking behind the curtains. Before he could process the bizarre compliment, his phone—forgotten in his bag—started vibrating like crazy. The screen lit up with a jumble of weird symbols and complete gibberish. “What the actual fuck?!” he muttered, convinced his phone was glitching from all the drama. Still dazed from the recent events, he tapped the notification without a second thought.
And then everything went to hell.
One moment Max was lying in the clinic, and the next, he was ripped from his miserable high school existence and dropped into a bizarre, game-like world. The transition hit him so hard that he immediately puked all over the sterile floor. “What the actual fuck? WHY?!” he croaked, clutching his stomach as the taste of bile mixed with shock. Still dazed and confused, he managed to yell, “HOW?!” while his eyes took in the surreal, pixelated landscape of his new surroundings.
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He now found himself in a strange fantasy town that looked like it was ripped straight from one of those low-budget RPGs he used to play online. His worn-out school uniform looked utterly ridiculous against the backdrop of medieval-style buildings and bustling marketplaces. As he staggered along the cobblestone streets, his appearance—beat-up, disheveled, and still reeking of humiliation—earned him odd looks from the locals. A grumpy dwarf glared at him, an elf with a meticulously groomed beard snorted in amusement, and a hulking orc smirked like he’d just seen the biggest joke in history.
“Damn, this is unreal,” Max muttered. “I just pissed on Baxter, got my ass kicked, and now I’m stuck in some stupid video game world? Fuck, my life is one giant shitshow.”
Meanwhile, chaos had been brewing across campus earlier that day. In the toilet, Chillie—ever the gullible action-manga fanatic—was busy suffering a raging stomachache after Max had convinced him that a slice of rotten cafeteria pizza was a gourmet delicacy. “Come on, man, if everyone can eat this crap and get stronger, so can you!” Max had insisted, only for Chillie’s gut to rebel horribly. In a classroom far away, Silas—a skinny, sickly guy with a dark obsession for horror and psychothriller manga—had gotten caught peeping on a girl’s panties. The result was a brutal punch that left him with a black eye and a busted wall, a harsh lesson in boundaries and shame. Out on the track field, Pitch—the rotund, always-hungry strategist with a love for futuristic war and tactical manga—had been forced into a brutal P.E. session. Exhausted and gasping for air, he ended up face-first in a cloud of dust, his white PE shirt and jogging pants smeared with grime, and his nose bleeding from the impact.
After their individual disasters, each of them received a bizarre notification on their phones—except for Chillie, who was too busy recovering in the toilet to check his phone. In a surreal twist, these notifications popped up one after the other, and that strange, garbled message would soon change everything.
Moments later, the misfit crew managed to reunite in a grimy courtyard in this new world. They met up amid a chorus of pukes and profanities. Pitch was slumped on a bench, still wiping dust off his face and groaning from his recent P.E. debacle. Silas, his face half-black and half-bleeding from the classroom fiasco, was laughing and puking at the same time as he recounted his humiliating ordeal. And then there was Chillie, who emerged from a nearby side alley completely naked—his only clothes having been left behind during his hasty escape from the toilet. His stomach still churned from that rotten pizza disaster.
“Dude, what the actual fuck happened today?” Chillie asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and laughter as he tried to cover himself. “I seriously thought that rotten-ass pizza was gonna make me a badass!”
Pitch managed a weak laugh between his coughing fits. “Man, you’re such a dumbass,” he said, shaking his head. “I nearly died on the track—face-first in dust, with my nose bleeding like a stuck pig.” Silas, rubbing his bruised head, added, “And I got smacked so hard for peeping that my brain’s still on the floor. We’re all a bunch of fucked-up losers.”
Their shared misery and crude humor bonded them even further. Between puking, swearing, and exchanging stupid manga references, they began recounting their separate misadventures. Chillie rambled on about his love for action-packed shounen—vowing that no rotten pizza or high school bullshit could ever stop him from believing in the wild stories of his favorite heroes. Silas, who always preferred horror and psychothrillers, grimaced as he recalled the girl’s punch that had left him bruised but strangely amused. And Pitch, the tactical genius when it came to futuristic war manga, continued to analyze his track-field fiasco, joking that his strategy had been “to literally run headfirst into a dust storm.”
As they huddled together, trading profanities and half-sincere promises to stick together no matter what, the bizarre new world around them only added to the chaos. Medieval buildings, odd vendors, and quirky creatures peppered the town as if it were a stage set for a poorly written anime. Max, still reeling from the shock of teleportation and his monumental humiliation, shook his head and muttered, “Fuck, my life is one giant shitshow.” His voice carried both the weight of his misfortune and the bitter humor of his absurd existence.
And so, with half-worn uniforms, puked-on faces, and a shared sense of, “What the actual fuck just happened?”, the gang of high school fuck-ups set off into the unknown. Their journey wasn’t one of legendary heroism—it was a series of misadventures fueled by dumb luck, crude jokes, and the kind of fucked-up camaraderie only losers can share. Even in this bizarre fantasy world, nothing was certain except that their lives would forever be a wild, ridiculous ride.