Nothing seemed to faze Lira.

Her smile and optimism held strong despite my obvious bewilderment, and she continued talking as if everything was perfectly normal, explaining the world, her people, and their belief in me.

It was quite a lot to take in after waking up naked on a stone slab in the middle of a temple in another world. I let the pleasant music of her voice drift into the background, too stunned to really focus on her words.

She fetched me a shirt and a pair of thin, white shorts, which were very welcome. Then seemed to want to help me dress, which wasn’t welcome at all. She didn’t appear offended when I gently brushed her hands away, taking the clothing from her.

I swung my legs over the edge of the altar. Lira was fetching more clothing from a corner of the room, and while her back was turned, I took the opportunity to pull the shorts up and cover my nakedness. Lying on a cold table had meant I was hardly at my best. Nude, cold, and shriveled … not the ideal way to meet a beautiful woman for the first time.

Lira returned with a padded gambeson, leather trousers, and a sturdy pair of boots. “…And then, three months ago, his army defeated ours. It was a slaughter. By the end of it, Valorah had no army left…”

I pulled on the trousers, then the boots. They fit perfectly, like they’d been made for me.

“…We’ve lived in fear ever since...”

I stood up, my legs weak and shaky. The simple shirt she’d brought was some kind of hemp, crudely designed yet surprisingly comfortable.

“…Drakos rules with an iron fist, and his men take what they want, wherever they go…”

I frowned at the gambeson and left it lying on the altar. I couldn’t imagine I’d need it anyway.

“…We’ve resisted, but all rebellions have been … mercilessly crushed.” For a moment, sadness clouded Lira’s voice. Then she brightened, her tone hopeful once again. “But now you’re here, my God! I wasn’t sure my ritual would work, but it did!” She beamed at me.

Rituals. Gods. Tyrants. Her words reminded me of tales from my world, of cruel rulers and desperate rebellions. But what had this to do with me?

I had a growing suspicion that Lira expected me to play a significant part in all of this. If that were the case, both of us were going to be sorely disappointed. I needed to tell her it was all a mistake before this horrible charade went any further. But she’d put all her faith in me; it would crush her.

What a fucking mess.

“I …” I coughed again and tried to clear my throat.

“Oh, my God, how foolish of me! Let me fetch you a drink.”

A drink sounded like a great idea. Whisky, tequila – hell, even vodka would do. Anything that might help me make sense of this … nightmare.

Lira returned with a crystal glass filled with a ruby-red liquid. She offered it to me with a demure smile, her eyes lowered.

I accepted eagerly and drank. It was wine—watered down—but I was so desperately thirsty it tasted like nectar, cool and refreshing.

Wiping my mouth, I cleared my throat. Maybe the blunt route wasn’t the best idea. Best to check, first, that I hadn’t misunderstood. I was hoping I’d somehow misunderstood, though she’d been awfully clear. “Let me get this straight. You’ve summoned me to defeat a man called Drakos who leads an army that has conquered your city and is oppressing your people.”

“Yes, my God! I knew it would all come back to you,” Lira said, her smile lighting up her face.

So I hadn’t misunderstood. “It hasn’t come back. You just told me all that.”

“Oh.” She looked briefly crestfallen. “Well, um … yes, that’s right, my God. He’s here in Norathil, and he hasn’t just conquered the city. He’s conquered our whole country.” Lira gazed at me, utter faith in her expression. “But once you kill Drakos, we’ll—”

“Drakos is a fighter, I assume? Someone capable of leading such an army is likely to be well-trained?”

“Oh yes, my God. He’s a formidable fighter, and a giant of a man. He stands seven feet tall, broad of chest and shoulder, frightening of visage, fast as—”

“Yes, yes. I get it.” I didn’t need the images her words were conjuring, and shook my head as if to wipe them away. “I just have one question.”

“Yes, my God?”

“Why do you think I stand a chance against him?”

Lira blinked. “Because you’re … you’re … a God!”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

I nodded slowly, fighting a rising surge of panic. I’d picked up on the subtle clues suggesting Lira’s thoughts on that subject, so her reaction wasn’t a complete surprise. Disappointment loomed just beyond the horizon. Fuck, it was like every phone call I’d ever had with my dad. “Just out of curiosity, why do you think I’m a God?”

“When I sought help through the powers of my Divination, I sensed how you controlled everything around you. How you created whole worlds with just a thought, summoned creatures and all manner of horrors, and how they did your bidding.”

“Pardon?” A horrible suspicion was creeping in.

“Why, only yesterday, I saw you dispatch four capable fighters with an army of hideous, hairy, man-like creatures!”

“Bugbears,” I said weakly, as my fears were confirmed. “They weren’t that capable,” I muttered.

“Yes, bugbears!” Lira shuddered, her body moving in a way that really drew the eyes. I quickly looked away. “Horrible creatures they were. Such power you have, my God!”

“And … er … just hypothetically, if I weren’t a God, what do you think would happen if I faced Drakos?”

“Oh, he’d absolutely slaughter anyone less than a God, my God! He’s killed dozens in duels. He’s a tribal warlord from Saromir, and fighting is their way of life. He’s the fiercest warrior Valorah has ever seen.”

“Right.” I was done. Out. Adios, amigos. “Well, er … it was very nice to meet you, and thank you for the clothes and the drink, but I think I’ll be off back home now.” I smiled awkwardly. “You know how it is—worlds to run, creatures to control. I really should be going. If you’d be kind enough to…?”

“Yes?”

“You know. Put me back?”

She frowned. “Put you back, my God?”

“Yes. Un-summon me. Return me. Do the purple swirly portal thing and … send me back where I came from.” Get me the fuck out of here. Now, ideally.

“Oh!” Lira’s face fell, like someone had just canceled Christmas. “You mean … you mean you don’t want to be here?”

How to let her down gently. Or, if not gently, then … well, it really wasn’t my fight—or my world. It was giving me a whole new lease on my life for my boring job, small apartment, and pointless future. “I’d just simply love to help you with your little problem, but alas, with great power comes … er … great responsibility.”

“Oh.” A very definite pout was forming. “Yes, my God, I understand.” She sighed, her chest rising and falling enticingly. “It was foolish of me to assume our problems would interest you.” Tears welled up in her beautiful eyes, but she blinked them back. “Please, forgive me for disturbing you.”

“It’s quite alright,” I said generously, trying hard to ignore her distress, even though it tugged at my conscience. I had to remind myself that I had no part to play in this. “If you could just…” I gestured vaguely.

“Yes?”

“…Do the magic? Now, perhaps?”

“Oh. Er … I can’t send you back, my God. I couldn’t possibly manage magic as complicated as that. Bringing you here is one thing, but sending you back? The ritual could send you anywhere.”

That was disappointing, but anywhere would be better than here. I imagined returning somewhere in the middle of Europe, with no passport or money. Still, I’d figure something out. I could claim I’d been kidnapped – it wasn’t far from the truth. Weren’t there embassies for situations like this?

“Couldn’t you at least try?”

Lira frowned. “Why don’t you do it yourself, my God?”

“Er … I’m not sure all my powers have … er … awakened since I … er … awakened.”

“Oh.” Lira nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense. A period of discombobulation was to be expected. I should’ve anticipated it.”

“So, if you wouldn’t mind doing it for me?”

“I meant it when I said the ritual could send you anywhere, my God. The chances of you returning to your realm are infinitely smaller than me sending you somewhere else.”

“Oh,” I said, my heart sinking. Not Europe, then.

“It would be far more likely you’d emerge somewhere in the middle of all the stars…” Lira added helpfully.

“Ah,” I said, thinking about the vastness of space.

“… Of course, that wouldn’t be a problem for a God like you,” she continued, "but you’d still have to wait for your powers to fully return."

“True.” I supposed being here was, on balance, marginally better than floating in a vacuum. Where there was life, there was hope, and all that. Maybe some divine deliverance was at hand, or maybe I’d let Lira’s talk of gods get in my head. “Well, perhaps I do have time to help you out, after all.”

Lira looked up, tears in her eyes once more, though this time they shone with gratitude. “Oh, thank you, my God!” She launched herself at me, her slim arms wrapping around my neck as her body crashed into mine, knocking me against the table. “Thank you so much!” She placed little kisses along my jawline.

She was warm and soft, and the bodice she wore did little to hide the feel of her. Neither did my thin shirt. Every baser instinct I had was screaming, but I somehow found my voice. “Er … Lira …”

“Oh! I’m so sorry.” She quickly stepped back, blushing, clasping her hands behind her back as if to keep them from touching me again. It made her breasts push forward. “I don’t know what came over me. I was just so happy, my God.”

“I understand.” The ‘my God’ thing was, by God, getting a bit tiresome, especially since I wasn’t a God. And didn’t believe in them. “Would you mind calling me something else?”

“Of course, my God. How would you prefer I address you?”

“My name would be fine.”

Lira beamed, her eyes sparkling. “It would be an honor,” she breathed. Then her expression faltered. “But … I don’t know your name.”

“Oh, of course. It’s …” Nigel. But I had always hated that name, and it certainly wasn’t a god’s name. I was in a new city, in a different world, and that was the definition of a fresh start if ever I’d heard one. “Call me …” James. Peter. Riker … Anakin. Geralt? Aragorn. “… Kaelan.”

“Kaelan …” Lira breathed, tasting the name, staring up with adoration. “Thank you, my G— Kaelan.”

I nodded. “Yes, that’s better.” I felt a surge of strength. The new name really helped, as did Lira’s faith. Maybe she knew something I didn’t – very likely, in fact. Perhaps I did have secret, god-like powers in this world. Maybe I could defeat this villain, save the people, and win the heart of the beautiful Lira. It was a hope to cling to, for the alternative didn’t bear thinking about. “So, how do I find this Drakos of yours?”

“Oh, there’s no need to go and find him,” Lira said, smiling as if delivering the best news imaginable. “He’s waiting for you.”

“He’s … what?” I froze. That newfound confidence I’d been nurturing, the fragile sense of being in control, evaporated like mist on a summer morning.

She turned toward the doorway, gracefully gesturing as if this revelation was no more alarming than a mid-day stroll. “He’s right outside the temple.”

My heart sank. Right outside. As in, within walking distance. As in, very likely about to burst in here and crush me like a cockroach. I swallowed hard, staring at the doorway as if expecting Drakos to charge through at any moment. My legs wobbled.

I might need that gambeson after all. And a shield. There had to be a shield, right?