"Embrace your destiny, become the hero of your story!" These words, spoken to me when I was just a youth, set my heart ablaze. I lost myself in the intricate worlds of tabletop role-playing games, where I yearned to embody the heroes penned into my character sheets. Those personas consumed my days in epic storytelling, igniting a passion that blazed like the sun.

But as the sands of time slipped through my fingers, the dream of manifesting such desires in reality grew distant. The allure of heroes and adventures waned, eclipsed by the relentless march of life.

At forty years old, I stood alone, a man of modest means in a quaint American town. My looks and abilities were unremarkable, fitting neatly into the mold of average. Marriage remained an elusive concept in my future, and when asked about my hobbies, I'd recount my affection for tabletop role-playing games. In my youth, I'd even helped organize conventions, but as my career soared, those cherished moments receded into the shadows.

Then, one fateful day, my unassuming life took an exhilarating turn. My last recollection before everything changed was of finishing some extra work, returning to my apartment, and turning the doorknob.

In an instant, I found myself consumed by an all-encompassing void. Devoid of sensation, I couldn't discern up from down or even the form of my own self. My consciousness alone floated through the boundless emptiness.

Though I believed I had decades left to live, I was acutely aware that I was no longer among the living. Thoughts of coworkers, friends, family, unfulfilled dreams, and the pile of untouched novels and tabletop sourcebooks swirled within me as I embraced the void's embrace.

Well, there's no turning back now.

As I contemplated my life, it became clear I had neither monumental achievements to boast nor profound regrets to lament. It was an existence, not without its share of moments, and though it was tragically cut short, I made my peace with the finality of my tale.

With time losing all sense of meaning, a presence addressed me, its voice echoing within the void. "I am the Lord God." I couldn't see or hear its source, but its words resonated within my consciousness.

"You will be transported to a realm beyond the boundaries of your world, a place akin to what you might call a parallel universe."

"Transported to another world?" I queried.

The phrase felt strange yet oddly familiar, awakening a long-forgotten memory within me.

"Based on my exploration of this dimension's fabric of information, 'transported to another world' is the most suitable description for this occurrence."

"Huh," I replied, bewildered. My response was lacking in conviction, but a part of me had already accepted the impending adventure. There was no room for fear; I had already departed the realm of the living. Moreover, I had always been captivated by tales of otherworldly journeys, like Sword Art Online and the John Carter series—classics in their own right. These genres had recently enjoyed a resurgence in popularity.

Yet, I had always believed such stories to be pure fiction. Now, it appeared I was destined to be a character in a similar narrative.

"Once I arrive in this other world, what becomes of me?"

"I shall grant you a form befitting your new existence. Please provide me with the necessary information for its creation. Your destination resembles what you would recognize as a 'sword and sorcery' fantasy realm; therefore, it would be wise to ensure the details you provide align with that context."

"A new form... in a fantasy world?"

My mind immediately fixated on a character I had painstakingly crafted for a tabletop RPG known as Tombs & Titans. During my academic years, I had thrown myself into the game, dedicating seven years and countless campaigns to raising the character I held dearest - the Archmage Emberus Blazeus Xandros. Among all my gaming creations, my connection with Emberus ran the deepest.

"I've conducted a thorough analysis of your character. Using information from the rulebooks, sourcebooks, scenario notebooks, and character sheets in your room, I will recreate the physical and mental attributes of 'Emberus Blazeus,' along with his possessions. To ensure there's no discord that might harm your mental state, your physical appearance will remain unchanged."

In essence, this self-proclaimed deity not only delved into my thoughts but also pored over my notebooks filled with whimsical fantasies from my youth.

The embarrassment I felt was mortifying.

"The creation of Archmage Emberus Blazeus Xandros is now complete," declared the divine presence. As my disembodied self squirmed with embarrassment, the divine work concluded, and I began to regain the sensation of having a corporeal form.

I found myself clad in a crimson robe, a knapsack hanging over my shoulder, and a staff firmly gripped in one hand. My features remained the same - the brown hair, dark eyes, and unremarkable visage of an average American man. It felt like I had put on a costume, but I could sense that this transformation ran deeper than appearances.

The vitality and agility of someone in their twenties surged through me - even more energetic than my younger years, despite my aversion to sports and preference for indoor activities.

"Are there any inconsistencies in your consciousness or memories?" the deity inquired.

As I delved into my thoughts, I discovered an innate understanding of Ember's magical abilities, along with a mental catalog of his enchanted items and how to use them. Every detail I had devised with the game master and recorded in my notebooks as background information was now intrinsic knowledge within my mind. Despite this influx of new information, I could still effortlessly access memories from my previous forty years of life.

"Everything appears to be in order," I replied. "But you weren't kidding - I've truly become a character from a TTRPG..."

My character, Emberus Blazeus Xandros, was a Level 20 Archmage, the pinnacle achievable in the Tombs & Titans Core rules. The realization that I had become Ember brought forth a blend of trepidation and exhilaration.

Is this truly acceptable? What have I gotten myself into?

Even among genre enthusiasts, Tombs & Titans was considered an antiquated relic. It was often associated with parties of fragile characters, each boasting a mere 3 to 5 hit points, struggling - and usually failing - to survive while navigating mundane dungeons filled with rats, bats, and goblins. While contemporary TTRPGs emphasized vibrant characters and intricate narratives, this depiction faithfully captured Tombs & Titans' gameplay.

However, this portrayal only applied to the Core ruleset. As characters progressed, the nature of their adventures shifted dramatically.

Tombs & Titans was divided into four tiers: One, Two, Three, and Four, with each tier corresponding to an ascending range of character levels. Upon reaching Tier Four, characters could expect to lead guilds, govern nations, embark on interdimensional or even interstellar adventures, and engage in epic battles against demons or deities. Under the right circumstances, characters might even undertake a quest to ascend to godhood.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

To reach the heights of Tier Four, a character had to participate in at least one hundred campaign modules. Over seven years, I had nurtured Ember to his ultimate form, and his abilities, potent enough to shape the destiny of the world, were a testament to that.

"What do you expect from me after all of this?" I inquired.

"Once you are transported, I will neither guide nor interfere with your actions."

So, after going to such lengths to transport me to another world, I was expected to act as I pleased? Suspicion welled up as I tried to discern any hidden meaning in the words of this so-called God.

"This isn't a situation where, for example, I become an Archmage, but Ember's magic won't function in the other world, right?"

If that were the case, this would be less of a portal fantasy and more of a dark sci-fi comedy.

"The magic that's woven into your character's essence clashes with the fundamental principles of this other world. Yet, within the boundaries of this world's natural laws, it can still be harnessed. This applies not just to your physical abilities and game-based knowledge but also to your character's formidable powers."

"Are you absolutely certain about this? I could potentially plunge this world into chaos."

"If that's your choice, I won't stand in your way."

Well, that's not exactly my plan!

Once upon a time, I had longed to become Ember, but expecting a man in his forties to muster the energy and resolve to embark on grand adventures—whether to save or imperil the world with Ember's formidable powers—seemed like an insurmountable demand. If this had happened twenty years ago, the story might have unfolded differently.

"Isn't Ember a tad too powerful? Maybe a Level 6 Cleric would be more reasonable... But then again, Emberus is the character I know best," I pondered, contemplating alternatives and reevaluating.

But, on the other hand, I couldn't ignore the rush of excitement coursing through me because of these surreal circumstances. This was a chance to become the hero of countless adventures I had shared with my friends around the gaming table in my youth.

In normal circumstances, I wouldn't have had the luxury to abandon my work and indulge in leisure, let alone embark on a journey to another world. But in the end, this opportunity had arisen because I was no longer counted among the living.

Could I consider it an early retirement? Whether I spent the rest of my years in the United States or this new world, it didn't seem like a terrible arrangement, as long as I didn't struggle to find sustenance. Although, indulging in delicious food now and then, reading fascinating books, and perhaps participating in some roleplaying would be the icing on the cake

.

The truth was, after my conversation with the so-called God, I had momentarily forgotten all the life lessons I had learned. I was ecstatic, painting vivid pictures of fantastic futures in my mind.

"Well then, I shall now send you to this other world. For your reference, your destination is the continent of Dravus, as it's known in the native tongue," declared the God. Those were the last words I heard before my consciousness faded.

---

"I don't know what I was expecting, but this certainly wasn't it..."

As consciousness slowly returned to me, I found myself trapped within a square prison cell. My gaze locked onto the rust-covered bars of the iron cell door, while the other three walls were hewn from stone. The ceiling soared high above, featuring a hole roughly three meters from the ground, allowing a shaft of light to filter in. Inside the cell, there was nothing but a tattered rag, barely fit for a blanket, and a hole in the floor that served as a rudimentary toilet. This constituted my newly acquired world. To add to my woes, my wrists were firmly ensnared in wooden stocks. Beyond the bars, my cell faced another identical one, though it remained empty.

"What a dramatic start," I commented to myself.

"Intense beginning" was a term used in TTRPG module writing for campaign hooks that thrust players into a situation or incident, commencing the story in medias res—in the midst of things. I couldn't think of a more fitting description for my current predicament.

"If there's a game master orchestrating all of this, they certainly have a twisted sense of humor," I remarked, scrutinizing my surroundings and piecing together the information I held.

The most probable candidate for the role of game master was the so-called God, I considered, my previous excitement having evaporated entirely. God had assured me that I was free to act as I saw fit, but I found it difficult to accept those words without a healthy dose of skepticism. No one would go to such lengths for something as intricate as this without a purpose in mind.

"I reckon it's around noon," I speculated, noting the sunlight streaming in from the aperture in the wall above.

Using the available light, I examined myself. I was dressed in pants and a long-sleeved shirt, but my feet were bare. My custom-crafted robe, boasting an impressive +5 AC (Armor Class) bonus, had vanished, along with my staff and Bag of Holding, which held my spellbook. All the equipment I had accumulated over Ember's extensive adventures had disappeared.

"What have I done to deserve this plunge off the figurative precipice? First, I die, and then I'm flung into another realm, transformed into an RPG character..."

I felt a profound weariness wash over me. It seemed my dreams of recapturing my youth had taken a rather unexpected turn.

Leaning against a rough-hewn wall, I cradled my head in my hands, feeling the weight of my actions settle upon me. Had anyone discovered my lifeless body yet? I had left preparations for next week's crucial meeting incomplete, and my mind couldn't help but dwell on my own earthly concerns.

With a long, defeated sigh, I whispered, "I've truly been transported to another world, haven't I?"

Minutes drifted by, my gaze lost in the abyss, but gradually, the cogs of my mind began to turn again. Drawing several deep breaths to regain my composure, I felt a glimmer of optimism returning with each exhale. Yes, I had died, but there was no undoing that now, nor any way to return to America. I needed to accept my situation and focus on the path ahead.

Thankfully, I had arrived in this new realm as a Level 20 Archmage. The list of things I couldn't do here was dwarfed by the myriad of abilities at my disposal.

"If I just cast a spell or two, I... Wait! That's right! I don't have my spellbook, do I?"

The realization that my equipment had vanished washed over me, causing my face to pale. Without my Bag of Holding, which contained my various magical items and treasures, my spellbook was gone too.

"If I don't have my spellbook... Well, I'm in deep trouble."

Let me emphasize the significance of a spellbook to an Archmage. In many games, both old and new, magic users have magic points, or MP, which they expend to cast spells. But not in T&T. Here, Mages must study their spellbook each morning and memorize the spells they intend to use that day. It's known as "readying" the spell. Once you cast a readied spell, it disappears from your memory and can't be used again until you study it anew during your next morning's spellbook session.

If I had no spells readied now, and all my magical items were gone, I was nothing more than an ordinary person. Despite living for forty years as a regular individual, panic began to creep in.

"Alright, do I have any spells ready?"

Though I had never actually cast spells before, I scoured my memory until...

"Eureka!"

It was as if I had unearthed a hidden wellspring of energy within my mind. I instinctively recognized it as a readied spell. The incantation technique and the steps to cast the spell became clear. As God had hinted, Emberus Blazeus Xandros' knowledge had indeed become embedded in my mind.

"My top priority should be escaping this place and, at the very least, retrieving my spellbook. But who imprisoned me here in the first place?"

While breaking free was crucial, I needed to assess my surroundings before taking action. Someone or something had stolen my equipment and imprisoned me. It was a reasonable assumption that the culprit might still be nearby.

"Should I use a spell to break out of this cell, at least?"

In T&T, Mages faced a considerable challenge in deciding which spells to ready each day and how to use their limited spell slots effectively. Ember, a max-level Archmage (and now, I was one as well), could ready up to twenty-two spells a day—four Rank 1, three Rank 2, three Rank 3, three Rank 4, three Rank 5, two Rank 6, two Rank 7, one Rank 8, and one Rank 9 spell. Among the spells I contemplated casting, the obvious choice was "Tap," which could unlock the cell door or free my hands from the stocks. However, several other spells could also be useful for my escape.

"After careful thought... I should prioritize my safety."

After some deliberation, I finally decided on the first spell I would cast: "Invincibility." It was a Rank 9 spell, one of the most challenging to cast in-game. It completely nullified all weapon-based physical attacks and any magic-based attacks of Rank 3 or lower for up to six hours. If things took a turn for the worse, its effects would prove invaluable.

"Will it work as intended?"

All the steps necessary to cast the spell were already clear in my mind, based on T&T rules from over two decades ago. It was surprisingly straightforward. I had to give credit to God; I was astonished that they could decipher and comprehend the chaotic scribbles in those old notebooks.

"Here goes nothing..."

For the first time in my life, I began to perform an action I had role-played hundreds of times before.

I started to cast a spell.