I leaned forward, my eyes locked on the screen, fingers dancing across the keyboard like a concert pianist as I completed my masterpiece. I had a commanding lead, but that could change in an instant. I scrolled left to see villagers chopping down trees in the dense forests, soldiers patrolling the edges of our territory, and scouts feeding me the latest intel on enemy movements. I could feel the tension in the room; this match was going to be close.

“Alex, you’ve got incoming from the east!” Kyle’s voice cut through the haze of concentration.

“I see it,” I replied, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me. Behind me, jeers sounded from my roommates, who had been eliminated already, as they watched on with beers in their hands. A few clicks and my HUD displayed the group of archers and cavalry I needed. With a flick of my wrist, I sent them to intercept the enemy troops.

We were deep into the final match of the Age of Empires LAN tournament, the biggest event at our college this semester. The dorm room had been transformed into a war zone, with every screen glowing in the dim light, every player focused on the battlefield in front of them. This was it—win or go home.

My empire was a well-oiled machine. The walls were strong, the economy was booming, and my army was ready to crush anyone who dared challenge me. But I knew better than to get cocky. The enemy was relentless, and they’d find any crack in our defenses if we let them.

“Siege units are ready,” I called out, swiping my hand across the HUD to select my trebuchets. With another quick motion, I positioned them to assault the yellow team's fortress for the win.

“Nice!” Kyle shouted. "Let's light it up!"

We met in front of the city and saw their units assembling, but I knew it was too late for them. My screen glowed with the orange light of explosions as our combined forces started to batter down the enemy defenses.

I couldn’t help but grin as my trebuchets launched their salvo over and over, Kyle's heavy horses storming the gaping holes in their crumbling walls. Their troops scrambled to regroup, and I zoomed out to get a better view of the battlefield, planning my next move. Resource management, troop positioning, countering enemy moves—this was my element. One wrong move, though, and everything could fall apart as their ally was about to join in.

“Flanking from the north!” another teammate warned, his voice tense.

“Covering it,” I responded, my fingers flying over the keys as I set up a defensive line. Pikemen and archers took their positions, ready to hold the line against the northern threat.

Minutes felt like hours as the game dragged on, each decision more critical than the last. But we were winning. I could feel it. The enemy was on the ropes, and our strategy was holding strong.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of battle, the enemy stronghold began to collapse. Their walls crumbled, their troops fled, and the victory screen flashed across my monitor.

We’d done it.

The room erupted in cheers, but I barely noticed. I leaned back in my chair, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. My heart was still pounding, but there was a deep satisfaction as a grin plastered my face. We’d fought hard for this win, and it felt damn good. Someone handed me a shot, and I downed it, wiping my mouth and laughing.

“Hell yeah! We did it!” Kyle shouted, nearly knocking over his chair in his excitement.

“Nice work, everyone,” I said, my voice calm despite the rush. I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring the victory. This was why I loved strategy games—the thrill of building something from nothing, of outsmarting your opponent, of watching your plans unfold perfectly on the screen.

But when I opened my eyes, something was wrong. The screen in front of me had gone black. No final stats, no end-game summary—just darkness.

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“What the...?” I muttered, frowning as I tapped a few keys. Nothing happened.

Then, out of nowhere, a message popped up on the screen. It was pixelated, almost like something out of a retro game, and the words were written in blocky, bold text:

"Congratulations, Alex Carter. You've been selected as the new mayor of Stonebridge. Do you accept your destiny?"

I blinked, staring at the message. “What the hell is this?” I said aloud, mostly to myself.

Kyle, ever the curious one, leaned over. “Wait, what's this? Stonebridge?”

“No idea,” I replied, shaking my head. This wasn’t part of the tournament, that was for sure. The whole setup had been standardized to avoid any funny business. But here was this message, just sitting on my screen like it had every right to be there.

Beneath the message were two options: Accept and Decline.

I hesitated. But my curiosity got the better of me. What was the worst that could happen? I moved the mouse over the Accept button and clicked.

The second I did, everything changed.

The room around me warped and twisted, the familiar dorm walls dissolving into a blur of colors and light. My heart leapt into my throat as the sounds of cheering and keyboard clicks faded into the distance, replaced by a deafening silence.

“What the—?” I tried to say, but the words caught in my throat. The whole world was spinning, and before I could do anything to stop it, everything went white.

When the light faded, I wasn’t in the dorm room anymore. I was standing in the middle of an open courtyard, surrounded by decrepit stone buildings. The air was cool and carried the faint scent of the sea mixed with freshly cut wood. It was all so vivid, so real.

I turned around, taking in my surroundings. This wasn’t some virtual reality simulation. I could feel the cobblestones under my feet, hear the distant call of seagulls, and see the smoke rising from chimneys in the distance.

My head throbbed, like I had been squeezed through a tube at high speed. I steadied myself as birds chirped around me high up in the trees. Before I could make sense of what was happening, a deep, slow voice rumbled from behind me.

“Ah, you’re finally here. Took you long enough.”

I spun around, nearly tripping over my own feet. Sitting—no, lounging—on a low stone bench was the most bizarre creature I’d ever seen. It was huge, easily the size of a grizzly bear, with the body of a sloth and the face of a walrus. Its fur was a mottled brown, and its eyes, half-lidded and bored, tracked me with mild interest.

“What... what are you?” I stammered, my mind scrambling to catch up with reality.

The creature let out a heavy sigh, like I was inconveniencing it by existing. “Name’s Gordo. I’m the former mayor of this delightful dump you’ve inherited. Welcome to Stonebridge.”

“Former mayor? Inherited? What are you talking about? Where am I?” I demanded, my pulse quickening. This had to be some kind of dream—one of those ultra-realistic ones where you could feel everything, but none of it made any sense.

“You've accepted, haven't you?” Gordo said, smiling widely and showing off his massive tusks. “That’s how they get you. You're replacing me. I've been replaced. Again.”

I opened my mouth to argue, to say that this was impossible, but the words died on my lips. Gordo wasn’t wrong—I had clicked ‘Accept.’ But how could that have possibly brought me here?

“Listen, kid,” Gordo continued, clearly uninterested in my existential crisis, “you’re in charge now. Stonebridge is your problem. It’s falling apart, and unless you want to end up erased from existence along with it, you’d better start fixing things. Your exploration period already started.”

“Erased from existence?” I repeated, my voice hitting a slightly higher pitch than I’d have liked. “You’re telling me that if I don’t... manage this place, or whatever, I’ll just... disappear?”

Gordo’s lips curled into what might have been a grin. “Bingo.”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. This couldn’t be real. But it felt real. And if there was even a chance that this wasn’t some crazy dream, then I had to figure out what the hell was going on.

“Okay,” I said slowly, more to myself than to Gordo. “Okay. Where do I start?”

Gordo yawned again, lazily scratching his massive belly. “Water, wood, shelter. In that order. Then maybe patching up those walls before something nasty decides to come knocking again. I'm supposed to train you on your HUD. Did you meet with the Arbiters?”

I looked around the courtyard again, my eyes finally focusing on the details. "No? I just came here."

The buildings were old, some crumbling at the edges, and the walls... well, calling them ‘walls’ was generous. They looked like they’d collapse if someone leaned on them too hard.

This was insane. But if this was my reality now, I didn’t have much choice.

"Figures. Damned Arbiters. Alright, let's get back to town and I'll tell you all about it." Suddenly, wheels shot out from under him and he shot forward, propelled on his little motorized wheelchair.

I stared on after him with wide eyes, but I wasn't really in the mood to be left out here in the jungle in a strange new world. With that, I took my first steps as the unlikely mayor of Stonebridge, trying to figure out how to save a city I didn’t even know existed until a few minutes ago.