Bob was giddy about this sudden change. Something like this was unbelievable, like a soldier beating a hundred alone, unlike the stories about it. The genre was as common as salt in food. Mindless entertainment to be listened to while working on something more important. It polluted his video feed for ages, the Isekai videos, and all those sub-genres that involved x characters in a random other’s series. They always used AI voice filters and reused AI pictures for thumbnails and all the scummy practices one would expect. But the thought that it could be real, that it could happen to him, was a truly incredible prospect. But it was also happening to his grandmother.

Said grandmother was slowly nibbling on her sandwich, still shell-shocked by the change. Her new powers broke her veranda, making chairs out of solid rock. Reality, it seems, was also subservient to her. With prayers and the old grumpy muttering, the surrounding air seemed to illustrate her words.

Was it raw power? Maybe her class? How do I check that? Bob thought in his mind, annoyed at this new turn of events. She was the overpowered character that every Isekai needed, but that should have been him. Usually, the hero in another world with such magic broke the world. Everyone stopped under the power of that character and everyone loved them bent backwards to please that character. At least that was what Bob thought. He matched all the criteria for the hero, being a down-on-his-luck loser, with few prospects. Damn it all, he was the perfect self-insert everyman. So why was it his grandmother?

“You didn’t cook the egg right.” His grandmother Dexter finally spoke.

“What? I thought it was good.” Bob retorted with a huff. “Do you want something else?”

“No. You seem to know about this. Could you at least explain it?”

Bob stopped rubbing his head, trying to stop the oncoming headache. This would be dreadful, as his grandmother was both stubborn and struggled to understand anything outside of her world. She couldn’t even understand how to find her apps on her phone. She was a constant student, never bothering to listen and always repeating what he said constantly. Still, if Bob did not explain, his grandmother could accidentally destroy everything and herself before noon. So, a deep understanding of his Sisyphean task, he attempted to explain what was happening.

“Alright, so as I said, we are in another world.” Bob started with a calm, soft tone.

“What? Then where are we, Mars? “Dexter replied, confused.

Already Bob felt his eyes start to roll. This was going to make him wish he hadn’t woken up today. Grinding his teeth, he took a deep breath, sighed, and cleared his throat. With his eyes firmly on his grandmother’s face, he gave his warmest smile.

“I mean, we aren’t in the normal world.” Bob was starting again. “We are no longer on our Earth or world. Now listen, I need you to calm down ok?“

“You are not making sense. What do you mean we are not on Earth? Then where the blazes are we !?” Dexter asked. Golden flames flickered around her legs and ornate figures rose around her. The faceless ghosts seemed to hold golden blades pointed at Bob, with a strange regal pose as knights defending a lady of the court. They wore no armor, only mere shadows of gold but the blades looked unnaturally sharp and far too real.

“Calm down. Please, let’s relax.” Bob begged in vain. “Listen, let us check first ok? First, we need to find a stat screen ok. ?”

“Wait, what do you mean by that? Explain what that is !” She screamed. As if on queue the figures got into position to strike Bob down.

“I mean that whether by fate or whatever, we are no longer on earth. That is why you have those things around you. The status screen should show us our powers and things. Like that thing around you that is going to hit me!” Bob screamed.

It was then Dexter finally noticed the golden figures who circled her. They then shimmered, leaping forward to attack Bob with a brutal swipe. Bob ducked narrowly dodging the attack falling to the floor, However the attack that mass of golden warriors just kept going. Grandmother Dexter watched the carnage she caused rip through the left side of her veranda and proceeded in a straight line into the forest that encircled them.

“See, that is why you need to calm down.” Bob retorted from the ground.

“I see that. Do you want a moment?” Dexter responded, turning to the sudden change on her veranda. “Who did this on my veranda?

Bob could only groan in annoyance. This was going to be a long day.

It took thirty minutes for Bob to convince his grandmother to sit down, and that it was her who made this new formation in her veranda and it was safe. Granted, he had lied about that last part but his grandmother seemed bothered by that minor inconvenience. Grandmother Dexter sat down on her new furniture annoyed. It was not the chair made of molded earth from her veranda, nor the ethereal images of Christ on her wall. It was her grandson who once again was trying to explain everything. The problem was the way he was doing it. It was his tone, treating her like a child or as if she was not an adult. She was around and thriving before he could walk on his own.

“All right, we are no longer in Kansas, like the Wizard of Oz. Yeah. So we need to find out what kind of isekai. It is important so we can plan properly. First thing we should do is check our status screen.” Bob spoke with strange authority. Usually, he was always the person causing problems and making everything worse but maybe it was the perk of this new world. Hopefully, that will continue. Bob mused in his own mind.

“So how do we do that?” Dexter asked, glancing up at her excited grandson. Clearly, he understood this situation but something was still off about his actions. It was clear he knew something else but was not telling.

“Well, Hm.. I am not sure. Maybe we could try to call it out ?” Bob mused looking upwards. “Let’s first try to say show status. On three.”

“Fine.” Dexter sighed rubbing her head. This was beyond her. All this was something for the young.

“One. Two, Three. Check status.” Bob and Dexter chanted.

For a moment, nothing happened, then sparks danced in front of them. Shimmering at two points on the left and right they outstretched towards each other forming into a simple box. Then the box cracked as shapes morphed into smaller boxes and lines. Then the texts appeared slowly like burning letters marked on the simple paper. Bob felt something touch him pouring the information into his head like something was doing a root canal for his mind. He screamed looking at the value of his being. Clawing at his eyes he yelped as the sheet formalized.

This was unlike his grandmother who handled it with grace as she didn’t even flinch. Light gentle words carved into her sheet as a faint wind with the smell of lavender that seemed to caress and gently massage her back. Closing her eyes, the pleasant feeling washed over her body like the wonderful memories. She leaned back into her new chair as the words formed with a simple click. It lasted only a minute but for the two it was a very different minute.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

It was after that Bob finally saw his full sheet, and the disappointment crystalized. After a simple read, he wished he hadn’t bothered to. Unfortunately, he was not some super ultimate powered being with unstoppable magic. No unique class nor unstoppable talent. Glancing through the sheet he saw :

Bob Jones

Hp: 8

Class: Flame Knight

Experience: 0 (Spark cadent.)

Weapons- Any

Armour -Any

Class Features

Mighty blow, Flame start

Race feature :

Coward escape. Ever a student.

He was basic. Just a basic fighter-like class with simple powers that were the most basic abilities. With a simple, strong attack that would do extra damage when he hit something and what seemed like a simple fire attack. He was rather plain for isekai hero. He scrolled through the status and effects with his mere thoughts with a critical eye.

Once Bob attempted to make his tabletop games and those skills gave him a unique insight. The layout was quite familiar like a simple d20 system with the same hard figures and sub-skills. But someone came in with a hacksaw and blow torch forcing in strange and conflicting systems.

They seemed redundant mechanics and held clear connections to older systems. It had simple abilities that could be purchased using calculated figures from his own statistics. Then with hard skill that his class would give, it seemed someone tried to mix underline engines making an abomination.

Along with a hard save and modifier system, it seemed to be a jumble of background systems with little care for how they would work together. From what he could gather from a mere glance, he was a type of warrior or frontline class that was themed around fire. The skills were littered about and seemed to mix both a percentile and modifier systems. However, some skills were just insulting. Worst of all, something had even outlined that his class was very common. All his features held the qualifter “basic” over all his class features. Clearly, someone wanted to rub salt in the wound.

But what die did it use? What are major hit mechanics? What kind of skill was a coward's sprint? Why did it sound so basic? It even had a basic name, the fire warrior. Even the font made fun of him with the most basic and simple text style with a bland blue background. At least I didn’t have bad base stats. Bob complained in his own mind.

“Hey grandma what do you see?” Bob asked, tearing himself from the screen to look at his grandmother. Her confusion consumed her face simply furrowed her brow and scowled.

“I can’t even understand what I am seeing. Here, see for yourself.” She waved her hand as the world bent. Bob could only grin as his eyes burned and his teeth quaked like his face was next to a boombox. His grandmother could not tell what she did. That or she wanted to punish him for not bothering to clean his room. It could have been both.

The first thing he noticed was gold, the box was not only golden, but the font was a heavenly white with a black outline. Each text box had its golden border with engraved angels that seemed to point to what was important. The skills list was so long it wrapped around the floor and she seemed to have top-tier status. Then he saw her classes and almost wept.

Sahsa Dexter

Hp: 49

Classes: Grand Wizard, High Priest.

Experience - 2500000

Weapons - No bladed weapons may be used in combat

Armour - You can not use any heavy armor

Spells

“You have 20 in all major spell casting stats and have thirty-five levels. You are a Grand wizard and a high priest. You could do anything. “Bob responded bitterly. What the hell was this? Why was his grandmother basically god? Bob screamed in his mind.

“What? No stop. I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to go home.” Dexter asked her body, feeling so heavy. She had entertained it enough, this was something her grandson had done to impress her. Clearly, he could remove it.

“Come on, let's go now,” She said defeated.

“Go where?” Bob asked.

“Home. Come on now” she stated, annoyed.

“We are home at least for the time being,” Bob replied with a shrug, sitting on the floor. “Most stories like this never have an option to go back. “

Instead of rage or a shout, she simply stood up and moved back inside. This was not real, it couldn't be. Nothing could explain this. Bob noticed his grandmother's depression and with a half smile quickly sputtered. “But we can find a way back.”

His grandmother who seemed sure with everything, who faced everyday firm and confident seemed so weak. She seemed too human. With a side glance, she looked back at her grandson, then with a breathless, weak voice. “Please, if you can. I… I need to lie down. Make sure the house is locked up.”

Bob could only nod as his grandmother moved into her room, locking her door. Rubbing his head he stood stretching readying himself to get ready. The first thing he needed was a weapon. With a smile, he dashed off to the kitchen grabbing a knife, lacing up his strongest sneakers and a bicycle helmet.

“This will have to do.” Bob grinned, sprinting into the forest ready to start his brand new adventure. However, Bob forgot to close the door behind him.

….

The orc chieftain Grey Blade was in a strange mood. Like, a very good orc he was aggressive brutal and often chose violence for any solution to all matters. And of course, debase all elves. It was the only thing he could agree with dwarves about. Their weapons were better used by orcs like him. But such things never gave him joy, those were just obligations. Every orc needed to do that. All orcs needed to attack slaughtering and enslaving. It was simply the way of things. It was the routine. He didn’t even enjoy combat; nothing was more boring than hitting the enemy until it died. But this was different. The heavy metal chain mail jangled as he lurched forward taking a simple sniff of the "cake". His harsh squat face held a radiant smile that was very wrong on an orc's face. Even his small tusk bit into his upper lips as this new emotion ruined his traditional orcish snarl. His large ears fluttered in joy as he simply stared at the small treat.

His massive brown form hunched over the table that his slaves had made. Sure, it was shoddy and wobbled but it was much better than before. So as a treat for their good behavior, the slaves would not be whipped with salt tonight. Just whipped. He could not be too nice to the slave. Still, that was work and he wanted no part of work right now.

Grey Blade's only love was the small little brown pastry that was on the table. That damned light that someone made had messed up all the geography. All the maps he had were now wrong and the new buildings were much stranger than expected. But then he tasted something divine, from one place that had claw marks and a massive hole in the back. Inside worthless glass scattered about but the food was unharmed.

That smell was a wonderful thing like medicine on an open wound. Take a bit of "cake" his eyes widened. It was like honey but better with a beautiful look unlike anything he ever saw. But the sweet food he found had awakened something new in him. Using all the scouting party, he gathered everything in that place then dragged it back as quickly as he could force them.

Gray Blade was happy. This was whatever slave's breeding, or what everyone else those slaves spoke about. Honestly, if they had bothered to defend their happiness as much as they spoke about, maybe they wouldn’t be slaves. But at least they were not goblins. Shuddering, he turned to face the small treat slowly poking it. He hated goblins, those little green bastards ruined everything they were a part of, even his mood. The only reason he had not gone out to kill them all was the fact he lacked good proper orcs to replace them.

No matter what, this would cure it. This cake would be the cure-all like it was before. For just a moment he could forget all his responsibilities. Just one he had earned that at least.

Then his ears twitched. Something was coming. Suddenly as if from the hand of Regol the orc god of bitter news massive golden shadows destroyed the cabin. Those golden bastards swung longswords around in a maelstrom of destruction. They broke his wall, shattered his windows, wrecked his table, and ruined his only joy. Then they left, destroying his door.

This event put Grey Blade into a proper orcish mood. First, he roared spit and bile flying across his ruined home. Then he had to punch his wall making it worse. Finally, he grabbed his large ax and whips; his mind settling on the most orcish thing. Revenge.

With a mountain cracking bellow in the clearest words he could speak he screamed, “That is IT! Call the goblins we need to get the bastard who did this. Freedom to the first one that gets me the head of the bastard that did this.”