The Overseer’s building looked like someone had smushed a church, a town hall, and a medieval fortress together and called it a day. Stone walls loomed overhead, their surfaces etched with strange symbols that seemed to shimmer when I got too close. The double doors at the entrance were massive, reinforced with iron bands that screamed, "We’ve had problems before."

I hesitated at the threshold, wondering if this was a good idea. The woman back in the village had said this Overseer “deals with prophecy types,” but what if that meant dealing with them? Like... permanently.

Still, standing out here wasn’t going to get me any answers.

“Alright,” I muttered to myself. “Let’s meet the boss.”

I shoved the doors open and stepped inside.

The interior was dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of old parchment and something faintly metallic. Rows of bookshelves lined the walls, crammed with scrolls, tomes, and objects that I was pretty sure weren’t OSHA-approved.

At the far end of the room, a man sat behind a massive desk carved from dark wood. He was middle-aged, with sharp features and eyes that practically glowed with judgment. His robes—because of course he was wearing robes—were deep purple, trimmed with silver, and so pristine they looked like they had a full-time cleaning staff.

He glanced up as I approached, and his lips curled into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Another Chosen,” he said, his voice smooth and unsettlingly calm. “How... delightful.”

I forced a grin. “You must be the Overseer. Great to meet you. Big fan of the... ambiance.” I gestured vaguely at the ominous décor.

His smile tightened. “Let us dispense with pleasantries, shall we? You are here because the Divine Light has seen fit to bring you to Kaedralis. Your purpose is to fulfill the Sacred Prophecy, though I’m certain you already know this.”

I blinked. “Right. The prophecy. Just to, uh, make sure we’re on the same page—what exactly does that involve?”

The Overseer’s smile vanished, replaced by a look of mild annoyance. “You don’t know?”

“Not a clue.”

He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “Fascinating. Most Chosen arrive with at least a basic understanding of their role. But no matter. The Light’s wisdom is often beyond comprehension.”

“Sure,” I said, nodding like I understood a word of that. “Let’s go with that.”

The Overseer reached under his desk and pulled out a scroll, which he unrolled with practiced precision. The parchment was covered in dense script and intricate illustrations that hurt my brain just looking at them.

“The Sacred Prophecy,” he said, tapping the scroll with one finger. “It speaks of a savior who will rise to lead the righteous against the heretics of the East. You will vanquish their blasphemous leaders, reclaim the lands they have stolen, and restore the glory of the Light Eternal.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, squinting at the scroll. “And this prophecy... it’s 100% legit, is it?”

His eyes narrowed. “Of course it is. The Light Eternal does not lie.”

“Right, but hypothetically, if someone were to... I don’t know, question the prophecy, what would happen?”

“Blasphemy is punishable by death,” he said flatly.

“Cool, cool. Love that for me.”

The Overseer stood, his movements unnervingly smooth. “Your journey begins immediately. I will provide you with a map, supplies, and an escort to guide you to your first objective.”

“Wait, hold up,” I said, holding up my hands. “Don’t I get a say in this?”

“You are the Chosen,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“Yeah, you keep saying that, but maybe I’m not cut out for this whole ‘savior’ thing. What if you picked the wrong guy?”

“The Light does not make mistakes.”

“Right, but let’s say it did. Hypothetically.”

His expression darkened. “The Light. Does not. Make. Mistakes.”

Before I could argue further, a new screen appeared in front of me:

Main Quest Activated: Journey to the Eastern Border.

Objective: Lead Ecclesion forces against the heretics.

Reward: +500 XP, Divine Favor

Penalty for Failure: Death

I stared at the screen, my stomach sinking. “You guys really need to work on your motivation tactics.”

The Overseer ignored me, waving a hand toward the door. A young man in plain robes entered, bowing deeply before the Overseer.

“This is Alric,” the Overseer said. “He will serve as your guide and attendant.”

Alric straightened, his expression eager and far too optimistic for my liking. “It is an honor to serve the Chosen One!”

“Yeah, sure,” I muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”

As we left the building, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d just been railroaded into something way bigger than I could handle. Alric led me through the village, chattering nonstop about the glory of the Light and the importance of the prophecy. I tuned most of it out, my mind racing with questions.

What was this world? Why was I here? And why did everyone seem so convinced that I was some kind of savior?

One thing was clear: I needed answers. And if the people of Ecclesion weren’t going to give them to me, I’d just have to find them myself.

But first, I had to survive whatever was waiting for me at the Eastern Border.

No pressure.

The road out of Westmarch was little more than a dirt path winding through fields and forests, the kind of route that made you wish for something better than sandals. Or, you know, an actual reason to be here. Alric was walking a few paces ahead, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Chosen One,” he said for what had to be the hundredth time, “it is truly an honor to accompany you on this sacred journey. The prophecy speaks of—”

“Yeah, about that,” I cut in, stepping over a suspiciously large root. “How many ‘Chosen Ones’ have you guys had recently?”

Alric paused, his brow furrowing like I’d asked him to do calculus. “The Sacred Prophecy is eternal,” he said, as if that was an answer.

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“That’s not what I asked.”

He hesitated, glancing back toward the village as if the Overseer might suddenly appear and smite him for even considering my question. “There have been... others,” he admitted finally.

“Others,” I repeated. “And where are they now?”

“Some fell in battle.” He said it with the tone of someone reciting the weather report. “Some failed to meet the Light’s expectations.”

“And by ‘failed,’ you mean...?”

Alric didn’t answer.

“Cool, cool. No pressure,” I muttered, kicking a loose stone down the path.

The sun hung low in the sky as we continued, its golden light casting long shadows over the landscape. The silence was almost peaceful—until Alric suddenly froze.

“Chosen One,” he whispered, pointing toward the treeline ahead.

I squinted, following his gaze. At first, I didn’t see anything, just trees and underbrush. Then something moved—something big.

It stepped into the clearing, and I immediately regretted every life choice that had brought me to this moment.

The creature looked like someone had taken a bear, slapped wings on it, and then decided it wasn’t terrifying enough, so they gave it glowing red eyes for good measure. It sniffed the air, its gaze locking onto us.

“What is that?” I asked, already taking a step back.

“A shadowbeast,” Alric said, his voice trembling. “They are servants of the darkness. Quick, Chosen One! Use your divine gifts to smite it!”

I stared at him. “You’re joking, right?”

“Of course not! The Light will guide your hand!”

“Okay, but what if it doesn’t?”

The beast roared, and I got my answer.

Before I could fully process the situation, the screen popped up again:

New Combat Encounter: Shadowbeast

Objective: Defeat the enemy.

Reward: +100 XP

Penalty for Failure: Death

“Death. Always with the death,” I muttered.

Alric was already backing away, his hands clasped together as if praying would somehow make this thing less likely to eat us.

The shadowbeast charged, and I did the only thing that made sense: I ran.

“Chosen One!” Alric shouted, his voice cracking.

“Running is a strategy!” I yelled back.

The beast crashed through the underbrush behind me, its massive paws tearing up chunks of dirt. My heart was pounding, my legs burning, but I didn’t dare stop.

Then, just ahead, I saw it: a fallen log spanning a shallow ravine. It wasn’t exactly a sturdy bridge, but it was better than nothing.

I sprinted for the log, clambering onto it as the beast closed in. The log creaked ominously under my weight, but I didn’t have time to worry about that.

“Come on,” I muttered, inching my way across.

The beast reached the edge of the ravine and paused, snarling as it eyed the log. For a brief, hopeful moment, I thought it might give up.

Then it jumped.

“Of course it jumps,” I groaned.

The log groaned under the added weight, and I could feel it shifting beneath me. I scrambled forward, trying to make it to the other side before it gave way.

Behind me, the beast roared again, its claws scraping against the wood.

“Okay, think, think,” I muttered. “What would a thief do?”

The screen flickered to life:

Hint: Use Shadow Step to evade pursuit.

“Oh, right, because that worked so well last time,” I muttered.

The beast lunged, and I didn’t have a choice. I focused on the shadows pooling under the log, willing myself to merge with them like before.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the world shifted again, and I felt that strange, weightless sensation as the shadows swallowed me.

I reappeared on the other side of the ravine, gasping for breath. The log gave a final, ominous crack and collapsed under the beast’s weight, sending it crashing into the ravine below.

I peered over the edge, watching as it thrashed and roared, trying to climb out.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” I muttered.

A second later, Alric stumbled out of the trees, his face pale and his robes covered in twigs. “Chosen One! You—you defeated the shadowbeast!”

I turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “I think the ravine did most of the work.”

“Nonsense!” he said, his voice trembling with awe. “The Light guided your steps, as it always will!”

I stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

The screen reappeared as we continued down the path, listing my “victory” stats:

Combat Result: Victory!

XP Gained: 100

New Ability Unlocked: Shadow Strike

“Shadow Strike?” I muttered. “Well, that sounds ominous.”

Alric glanced at me, his expression brightening. “The Light blesses you with new powers, Chosen One! You are truly destined for greatness!”

“Yeah, or I’m just really good at running away,” I said under my breath.

The path ahead stretched into the distance, the faint glow of a campfire flickering on the horizon. Whatever lay ahead, I had a feeling this was only the beginning.

“Alright, Kaedralis,” I muttered. “Round two. Bring it on.”

We reached the camp just as the last rays of sunlight disappeared over the horizon. The fire cast flickering shadows across a circle of ragged tents, each one looking like it had been assembled by someone who didn’t understand the concept of shelter.

A handful of people were gathered around the fire. Most of them wore plain, functional clothes—travelers or mercenaries, maybe—but one figure stood out. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and wrapped in armor that gleamed in the firelight. A sword the size of my entire body rested against the log he was sitting on.

Alric strode forward, practically radiating self-importance. “Hail, Captain! I bring the Chosen One, as commanded by the Overseer!”

The armored man turned to look at me, his expression unreadable beneath his helmet. “This is the Chosen One?” he asked, his voice deep and gruff.

I sighed. “Yep, that’s me. The Chosen One. The savior of your holy prophecy or whatever. Try to contain your excitement.”

One of the mercenaries snorted, quickly hiding it behind a cough. The captain’s gaze didn’t waver.

“You don’t look like much,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said flatly. “You look like a guy compensating for something, so I guess we’re even.”

Alric gasped, his hands flying to his mouth like I’d just insulted the Light Eternal itself. The captain, however, didn’t react. He just stood, his massive sword sliding into its sheath with a metallic hiss.

“If the Overseer says you’re the Chosen, then you’re the Chosen,” he said. “Whether you live up to that title is another matter entirely.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence,” I muttered.

The camp was surprisingly quiet for a group of people apparently on a holy mission. Most of the mercenaries kept to themselves, sharpening weapons or tending to their gear. Alric had disappeared somewhere, probably to pray or meditate or whatever it was he did when he wasn’t singing my nonexistent praises.

I found a spot near the edge of the camp and sat down, leaning against a rock. For the first time since I’d woken up in this world, I had a moment to breathe.

A moment to think.

None of this made sense.

The prophecy, the monsters, the floating screens—all of it felt like a bad dream I couldn’t wake up from. And the more I thought about it, the more questions I had.

Why me?

Why pull some random guy from Earth and drop him into a world like this? Was it random? Or was there a reason I’d been chosen?

And then there was the prophecy itself. It was all too... convenient. A savior summoned from another world, destined to lead the forces of good against the forces of evil. It sounded like something straight out of a cliché fantasy novel.

Which meant someone—something—had written it.

The Light Eternal. The Overseer. The so-called divine will that everyone here seemed so eager to follow.

But what if they were wrong?

What if this prophecy wasn’t divine at all?

The sound of footsteps pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see one of the mercenaries approaching—a wiry woman with short-cropped hair and a pair of daggers strapped to her belt.

“You don’t look like much of a Chosen,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Wow, thanks. I hadn’t heard that one today.”

She smirked, crouching down in front of me. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but don’t think for a second that we’ll clean up your messes.”

“Game?” I asked, my stomach twisting at the word.

“You stumble into a camp full of soldiers, acting like you’ve never held a weapon in your life, and we’re supposed to follow you into battle?” She shook her head. “I’ve seen people like you before. You don’t last long.”

I clenched my jaw, resisting the urge to snap back. She wasn’t wrong. I had no idea what I was doing here. But that didn’t mean I was going to roll over and die.

“I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here,” I said. “But if you’ve got a problem with the prophecy, take it up with your Overseer. Or the Light. Or whatever.”

Her smirk faded, replaced by a look of cold calculation. “Careful, Chosen. People who question the Light tend to disappear.”

She stood and walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts and a creeping sense of unease.

I didn’t sleep much that night. Between the cryptic warnings, the looming battle, and the nagging questions in my head, I couldn’t stop the spiral of doubt and frustration.

But one thing was clear: I couldn’t trust anyone here—not the Overseer, not Alric, not the mercenaries.

If I wanted answers, I was going to have to find them myself.

And if this so-called Light didn’t like that?

Well, it could take a number and get in line.