There was nothing quite as bittersweet as conquering a world from a hospital bed. The room reeked of antiseptic and lost hope, its pale green walls seeming to close in on me as if conspiring with the fluorescent lights to drive me insane. A laptop balanced precariously on the rolling tray in front of me, surrounded by empty water bottles, tangled wires, and an army of books—some stacked neatly, others splayed out on the floor like soldiers who'd given up mid-battle. The covers were a mosaic of combat sports memoirs, martial arts techniques, and history tomes. The Make-A-Wish Foundation probably expected me to ask for a trip to Disneyland. Instead, I’d requested enough books to rival the Library of Congress on fighting.

The final cutscene of The Kingdom of Ash unfolded on my screen, bathing the dim room in an eerie, golden glow. The Demon King—a towering monstrosity with claws the size of surfboards and wings that looked like shredded tarps—let out a final, distorted roar. His health bar evaporated into a thin red line, and then:

CONGRATULATIONS, CHAMPION. YOU HAVE CONQUERED THE KINGDOM OF ASH.

I froze, hands hovering over the keyboard, disbelief coursing through me. Then, like a geyser under pressure, a triumphant laugh erupted from my throat. "YES! Suck it, you overgrown mosquito!" I threw my fists in the air, almost knocking over my IV stand. The motion sent my heart monitor into a frenzy of beeps, as if it, too, was celebrating my victory.

Twitch chat exploded into a flurry of emotes and messages:

"KING KAI STRIKES AGAIN!"

"GOD TIER GAMING."

"Bro, how this guy’s gaming from a hospital bed and still better than me."

"Let me have your children! KAI!"

That last message was seriously creepy but I ignored it."Bow before your King! hahaha." I typed, grinning so wide my face hurt. My hundred or so viewers responded with virtual adoration, spamming crowns and hearts like I’d just solved world hunger.

Let me set the record straight: beating The Kingdom of Ash wasn’t just a game win. It was a global event. This RPG was infamous for its cruel difficulty—an unholy marriage of punishing mechanics, glitchy AI, and emotional trauma. It had driven grown men to tears and forums to civil war. Beating it solo, in Hardcore Ironman Mode, with no cheats or exploits, was the gaming equivalent of walking on water.

To the world, though, I was just that kid. Kai Michaels. Nineteen, paralyzed from the waist down, permanently confined to a hospital bed thanks to a freak car accident that snapped my spine like a breadstick when I was a toddler.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

"First in the world," I whispered to myself, shutting off the stream. "Kai Michaels, legend of the—oh wait, nope, I'm still a bedridden loser."

The door creaked open, and Nurse Elena entered like she owned the place, a clipboard in one hand and a half-eaten granola bar in the other. Elena was the unofficial queen of sarcasm and questionable life choices. She’d once told me she got into nursing because she "enjoyed other people’s misery." I suspected that wasn’t entirely a joke.

"What are you grinning about, Stretch?" she asked, her tone dripping with skepticism.

I gestured grandly to the laptop. "Just conquered a kingdom. No big deal. First in the world, by the way."

Elena raised an eyebrow, taking in the chaos of books and empty Cheetos bags surrounding me. "Congrats. You’re now officially the king of nerds. Shall we alert the United Nations or go straight to NASA?"

"Mock me all you want, Nurse Snark. History will remember my name."

She rolled her eyes so hard I was surprised they didn’t get stuck. "History might, but housekeeping sure won’t. Do you ever clean this mess, or are you training to survive a hoarder documentary?"

"Hey, don’t insult my décor. Those books are trophies, thank you very much. I’ve read every single one."

She snorted. "Of course you have. And let me guess—half of them are about people punching each other?"

"Not just punching." I grinned. "There’s kicking, grappling, judo throws, elbow strikes—it’s a whole science. You wouldn’t understand."

Elena smirked, dropping her clipboard onto the cluttered bedside table. "You’re right. I don’t understand why anyone would spend their Make-A-Wish money on books about sweaty dudes fighting in cages."

"They’re athletes," I said, mock-offended. "And it’s called mixed martial arts. MMA is an art form. Did you know Anderson Silva dodged twenty-six strikes in a row in one fight? The man’s basically Neo from The Matrix. And don’t even get me started on GSP’s wrestling game—"

She held up a hand. "Stop. For the love of God, stop before I have to sedate you."

I grinned. MMA was my religion, and my books were sacred texts. From Bruce Lee to Ronda Rousey, I’d studied their lives like I was cramming for a test. If my legs worked, I’d probably be training to choke someone out right now. Instead, I was a walking encyclopedia of combat sports trapped in a body that couldn’t even stand. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

"So," Elena said, scribbling something on her clipboard, "you’ve got a big day tomorrow."

I raised an eyebrow. "Big day? What, is the hospital cafeteria finally getting edible food?"

She ignored the jab. "Nope. We’re taking you outside."

I blinked. "Wait… like outside outside? With the sun and fresh air and people?"

"Yeah, you know, that magical place you’ve been avoiding like it’s full of serial killers. Doctor’s orders. You need Vitamin D, and honestly, I think the staff needs a break from your snark."

I groaned, already imagining the nightmare of social interactions. "Great. I can’t wait to get judged by random strangers for sitting in a wheelchair."

"Don’t be so dramatic. You’ll thank me later," she said, patting my arm. "Now get some sleep. You’ll need your energy for all the fun we’re about to have tomorrow."

That night, I drifted off to the looping soundtrack of The Kingdom of Ash’s victory cutscene, my head filled with thoughts of heroes, battles, and kingdoms that weren’t real. Maybe that’s why I didn’t wake up in my hospital bed.

When my eyes opened, I wasn’t greeted by fluorescent lights or the dull hum of machines. Instead, it was the single brightest fucking thing I ever seen, it took awhile to blink away the tears. The air smelled of burning wood and… was that lavender?

"What the—" I tried to move my head but froze. My body felt wrong—small, squishy. I looked down and saw tiny hands. Baby hands.

A booming voice made me jump into what ever was holding me. "REJOICE! THE VALDRIS HEIR HAS BEEN BORN!"

I turned my head, and there he was—a thin man with a beard so absurdly large it deserved its state. He was dressed like he’d raided a medieval theater’s prop closet, his navy blue robe glowing with weird symbols.

It hit me like a freight train. This was The Kingdom of Ash. And it felt far to real to be a dream, I was fully aware of everything.

Especially the fact I was a baby....

A Valdris baby..

The family doomed to die in Chapter one.

I stared at the glowing ceiling, my tiny lungs preparing a scream.

I'm am so unbelievably fucked..