The bell chimed, releasing my last group of senior programming students from my clutches. Or, more accurately, releasing me from theirs. Teaching high school seniors basic coding was about as thrilling as watching paint dry, though I had to admit, this year’s class had a few hidden gems.

I gathered my things, my trusty coffee mug—stained with the evidence of late-night grading sessions—warm in my hand. The familiar weight was oddly comforting. "Remember everyone," I called out, my voice echoing slightly in the rapidly emptying classroom, "the website wireframe is due next Friday! Don't come crying to me when you're up all night Thursday because you procrastinated."

A chorus of groans and a few half-hearted promises followed me out the door. I just shook my head and chuckled. Teenagers.

My little slice of relative peace ended abruptly when I stepped into the breakroom. Margaret, my fellow teacher and caffeine comrade, gave me a sympathetic look over her steaming mug. "He's at it again, huh?"

I grimaced. "Superintendent Bradshaw? You bet. New 'educational directives' apparently dropped straight from his ivory tower. This time it’s individual progress reports… weekly… with personalized learning plans adjusted for… get this… 'interdimensional fluctuations in student aptitude. What does interdimensional have to do with anything? Am I some kind of warp physicist on a sci-fi starship?'"

Margaret choked on her coffee, her eyes wide. "He can't be serious. That’s stupidly ridiculous even for him!"

"Oh, he’s dead serious. Spent ten minutes lecturing me on maximizing student potential in 'an ever-shifting educational paradigm.'" I mimicked Bradshaw's nasal voice, earning a tired laugh from Margaret.

Before she could respond, the door swung open with a loud bang. Principal Thompson strode in, his expression grim. He gave me a tight smile and a pat on the shoulder. "Raymond, a word, please."

I followed him to his office, my stomach twisting into knots. This did not feel good. Thompson shut the door behind us and gestured to the chair opposite his desk. "Raymond," he began, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant, "Bradshaw's new requirements… are unreasonable, even for him."

My heart sank. So, I wasn't just imagining things. This was bad. Really bad.

"I've tried talking to him, but he's adamant. He's convinced these new metrics are crucial for… well, you heard his spiel." He paused, then added in a quieter tone, "You're a good teacher, Raymond, one of the best we've got. I'll see what I can do, try to go over his head, but…"

He didn't need to finish the sentence. I knew.

Losing my job, especially now, when I was so close to paying off my student loans, would be disastrous. I mumbled a thanks, feeling a headache building behind my eyes. The rest of the day passed in a blur of anxiety and forced cheerfulness.

Finally, the last bell of the day rang. I trudged back to my classroom, the weight of Bradshaw’s impossible demands pressing down on me. The second senior class was much the same as the first—tired eyes staring at screens, a few enthusiastic students actually engaged, and the constant low hum of the computers. I started the lesson, going through the motions, my mind a million miles away.

Then, it happened.

A strange hum resonated through the room, growing louder by the second. The air crackled with energy, a tingling sensation running down my spine. My students, even the most inattentive ones, looked up, confusion and a flicker of fear in their eyes.

The hum became a roar, the air shimmering with an unnatural light. A blinding white glow enveloped everything, and then… silence.

I blinked, trying to clear my vision. Gone were the familiar walls of my classroom, the rows of computers, the half-finished projects on the desks.

Instead, we stood on a cold, hard floor of polished white stone. Towering around us were figures clad in gleaming steel. Their armor was unlike anything I’d ever seen, sleek yet menacing, with an otherworldly gleam. Each one held a wickedly curved sword, its edge glinting sharply in the strange, diffuse light that seemed to emanate from the very walls of this place.

Their helmets, smooth and featureless, hid their faces, leaving only an unsettling void where eyes should have been. Fear, cold and sharp, shot through me. Where in the world were we?

The initial shock gave way to a rush of adrenaline. This couldn't be real. It was some elaborate prank, a hallucination, anything but… this. I pinched myself, hard. The sharp stab of pain in my arm told me this was no dream.

"Alright, what’s going on here?" I called out, my voice echoing oddly in the vast chamber. "Who are you? Where are we?" I locked eyes with the nearest guard, his faceless helmet unnerving in its blankness. "Hey, I'm talking to you!"

The guard, a mountain of steel and silence, shifted slightly, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. "You address Knight Harland," he rumbled, his voice a deep bass that resonated in my chest.

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The absurdity of it almost made me laugh, a hysterical edge to the sound. My students, however, weren’t finding any humor in the situation. Panic rippled through their ranks, their earlier confusion replaced by outright terror.

“Mr. Draws, what’s happening?”

“Are we being kidnapped?”

“I want to go home!”

The questions came in a torrent, laced with fear and desperation. I held up my hands, trying to project an air of calm I didn’t feel.

"Everyone, just stay calm—"

My words were cut short as a strange sensation washed over me. It felt like… static electricity? No, something else, something that seemed to press in on my mind. I blinked, and a blue screen, shimmering like heat haze, flickered into existence in front of me. It displayed Two words, stark and ominous:

Divine Identification:

Below it, information scrolled, each line sending a fresh wave of ice through my veins.

Name: Imperial Executor Dodon

Moral Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Titles: Imperial Executor, Man of Massacre, Paramount Evil, One of the 20 Perpetrators of the 6 Great Massacres of the Innocent

Danger Level: Impossible

Imperial Executor Dodon is looking forward to the results of the blessing scan, he hopes he can kill this batch too. Getting to enslave some lesser blessing holders would be fun too, but he is really hoping for a potential Human Lord to be summoned so they can hurry up and conquer the world already.

The screen vanished as abruptly as it had appeared, leaving me staring at the space where it had been, my mind reeling. This… this couldn’t be right. It was insane. This ‘Dodon’… he was a monster. And I was trapped here with him, with no way out.

Sweat beaded on my forehead, my heart pounding against my ribs like a frantic bird in a cage. A strangled sound escaped my throat, a mixture of fear and despair. We were entirely screwed.

‘Knight Harland,’ and even thinking the title made me want to vomit, gestured us forward with a gauntleted hand. “Your accommodations have been prepared. Please follow.”

Accommodations. Right.

We were marched out of the stark white chamber and down a seemingly endless hallway. The walls here were made of some kind of polished black stone, etched with glowing runes that pulsed with an unsettling energy. The air hung heavy, thick with the scent of ozone and something else… metallic, almost like blood.

My steps echoed on the hard floor, each one a hammer blow against the rising tide of fear threatening to drown me. The other students, my students, trailed behind me, their faces pale and drawn.

“Mr. Draws,” a small voice whispered. It was Sarah, a bright, bubbly girl who always sat in the front row. Now, her face was streaked with tears, her eyes wide and terrified. “What’s going to happen to us?”

What could I say? That I had absolutely no idea other than it was going to obviously be not good? That the information my strange new ‘ability’ had shown me filled me with a dread I couldn’t even articulate?

I forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as fake as it felt. “It’s going to be alright, Sarah. We just… we just need to stay calm and do what they say.” Even to my own ears, the words sounded hollow, unconvincing.

After what felt like an eternity, we reached a set of massive double doors, intricately carved with scenes of battle and conquest. They swung open silently as we approached, revealing a spacious chamber beyond.

My first thought was that it was… opulent. A far cry from the cold, sterile atmosphere of the hallway. Intricately woven tapestries depicting idyllic landscapes hung on the walls. A fire roared in a grand fireplace, casting dancing shadows across the plush furniture and thick rugs that adorned the floor.

But even surrounded by such luxury, a sense of wrongness permeated the room. The windows, though large and offering a breathtaking view of a city unlike anything I’d ever seen, were barred. The doors, now closed behind us, were guarded by two of the silent, helmeted figures.

It wasn’t a room, not really. It was a gilded cage.

The hours that followed were an agonizing blur. We were given no explanation, no indication of what was to become of us. The guards, those terrifying figures in their emotionless masks, remained ever-present. They moved with an unsettling grace, their every action precise, controlled, inhuman.

They answered our questions with clipped, emotionless responses, their tone polite yet utterly devoid of warmth. It was creepier than outright hostility. They were like machines, programmed to mimic human interaction, but failing miserably.

“Will we ever be going home, where even are we?” David, a lanky boy who excelled at coding but struggled with social interaction, had asked at one point, his voice trembling slightly.

“That is not for me to say,” one of the guards had replied, his voice a flat monotone. “Your fate will be determined in due time.”

Time. It stretched on, each tick of the clock a hammer blow to my sanity. My stomach growled in protest, the pangs of thirst a sharp reminder of how utterly screwed we were.

By the time they came for us again, nearly sixteen hours after our arrival, according to the 28 hour clock in the corner, I was a mess of anxiety and gnawing fear.

They marched us through a maze of corridors, finally arriving at a large, circular chamber. It was dominated by a massive orb, pulsing with an internal light, connected by thick cables to what looked like some kind of elaborate printing press.

“Place your hand upon the Orb of Ascendancy,” one of the guards instructed, his voice echoing in the chamber. “Your blessings will then be revealed.”

One by one, the students stepped forward. Most of the orbs glowed dimly, barely illuminating the chamber. A few flickered brightly, eliciting murmurs from the guards, but none reacted as violently as mine.

My hand trembled as I placed it upon the smooth, cool surface. The orb erupted in a blinding red light, the intensity forcing me to close my eyes. The air crackled with energy, sending a jolt through my body.

I opened my eyes to see words blazing on the surface of the orb, each one etched in fire.

Type: Information Gathering.

Danger Level: Forbidden.

Terror, raw and primal, flooded my system. This… this was it. This was how it ended.

Before I could even process the implications of the words, a searing pain ripped through my back. I looked down to see the tip of a sword protruding from my chest, the steel slick with my blood.

“Impossible,” a voice hissed, cold with fury. “A forbidden blessing?! You can’t leave here alive!”

My vision swam as I fell, the world tilting on its axis. Through the haze of pain, I saw them descend on my students, swords flashing, screams echoing in the chamber.

The last thing I saw, before darkness claimed me, was Sarah being dragged away, her face contorted in a silent scream, her hand outstretched… reaching for me… or maybe… for help that would never come.