The bustling marketplace was alive with the sounds of people going about their day. Old men hawked goods from their modest carts, calling out deals to passing shoppers. Young women clustered around fruit stands, examining the wares and chatting lightly as children weaved between them, darting off in games of tag. The dull roar of hundreds of voices blended into an energized hum.

Yet there was one shop, tucked into a corner, which seemed untouched by the commotion. Inside, a man named Ben sat reading, paying little attention to the potential customers passing by his open door. Despite being situated in a prime spot of the popular market, Ben's shop showed little promise of prosperity. Its aged wooden exterior blended into the stone walls around it, appearing sad and forgotten. The windows were withered away from years of harsh sun and lacked any displays or signs announcing what goods might be found inside. Compared to the cheerfully decorated stalls surrounding it, Ben's shop exuded an air of decay and neglect unlikely to draw in buyers.

Well, let us introduce our protagonist briefly. Benjamin Brook, commonly known as Mr. Ben, is a 28-year-old individual exuding a handsome demeanor. With deep black eyes and matching black hair, he carries an air of charm. In terms of attire, he can often be found donning a traditional Japanese Kimono complemented by a stylish black hat atop his head. Despite his striking appearance, his mood often reflects a lazy look in his eyes, adding an intriguing touch to his overall presence.

Ben turned another page in his newspaper, seemingly oblivious to this fact. Though the market traffic flowed steadily outside his open door, not a single browser wandered in. With a small sigh, he leaned back in his worn chair and glanced around the shop. Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, stacked high with strange contraptions, ancient artifacts, and mystical charms. All items perfectly legal of course - at least in this world.

It had been nearly two decades since Ben last walked the streets of Nebula 9. Two decades ago, Mr. Ben found himself unexpectedly transported to a realm known as Earth, a world devoid of magic but rich in mystery and depth beyond what he had known in his home world. Despite the absence of magical elements, he chose to make Earth his residence for a substantial period of twenty years. Reflecting on his time there, he acknowledges that, save for the initial couple of years, the experience was predominantly filled with contentment and joy.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Now, fate had drawn Ben back to these lands of enchantment. He inhaled deeply, memories washing over him as he took in the familiar smells of strange incense and candle smoke. Much was as he remembered - the winding streets, the colorful banners adorning the buildings, the myriad races of people hustling to and fro. It appears that nothing has altered. Mr. Ben has returned to the timeline from which he vanished, finding himself once again in the very timeline from which he was initially teleported to another realm.

Ben's stomach rumbled loudly, pulling his attention back to the present. He sighed again. One major drawback of returning to Nebula 9 was that all forms of currency from Earth were useless here. The gold and silver coins that passed for money in this realm held no value in the world he just left. So despite having been quite wealthy on Earth, Ben now found himself penniless.

He grumbled to himself as he turned back to his newspaper. "No money, no food...some welcome back."

Hunger gnawed at his belly once more, spurring Ben to scan over the news articles for any easy way to earn a few coins. As bothersome as an empty stomach could be, it paled in comparison to the true hindrance of his situation - the strange suppression field neutralizing his magic.

Upon arriving in Nebula 9, Ben had discovered an odd numbness seeping through his body - a void where his mystical energies once flowed freely. It took several failed attempts at basic spells for him to accept the impossible truth. All access to his arcane power was cut off, as if an invisible barrier stood between himself and the magical fabric of this world. Never in a thousand lifetimes had Ben heard of something capable of restraining a wizard's abilities. Yet here he was, reduced to the state of a normal man. No spells. No mystical talents or alchemical concoctions. Not even the simplest of cantrips remained at his command. Ben then conclude it was maybe he was on Earth he lost all of his magic.

Another page turned, then another. Ben's eyes lit up as he spotted a potential opportunity - requests for an escort to guard a merchant caravan departing that very afternoon. It would be perfect, if not for the prerequisite of demonstrating magical aptitude. With a dejected shrug, Ben kept reading. He needs to have magical power and earn money very soon.

Until then, it seemed he was back to simpler times. Back to life as an ordinary man, just trying to get by. Back to the struggle of rebuilding everything he had left behind so long ago. Back to proving his worth without magic to elevate his status. Though it rankled his pride, Ben accepted the challenge. He had traversed far harsher adversity in his many years.