Slip through the gates of the windows of the soul, for reality flashed in once more after the great slumber. Flutter still, old velvet canopy of the bed, and many these ruby decorations shine on and reflect the arisen sun throughout this place of rest. This red ruby bedroom, I slept heavily and yet here I am, I arose to a new world, tired. Opening my eyes barely broke the built-up crust, and moving even in a single inch demands several amounts of exasperated breaths. Here through the exhaustion, my arm barely swings and tickles the bed curtains. The scent of luxuriant cologne fell from it, invading my nose. It's a terrible orange scent. Like cheap car freshener.

I sat up on my feathered bed, ruining the sheets, and so my legs swung around, and then my feet came touching the speckless carpet. I hop off.

"Iyaaaaaaa!"

And I sat on top of a poor maid, who was now screaming loudly. Ever had a servant shout back at you? Always in food service. Especially that one time when the cashier threw a 6pc chicken nugget box at me.

"Uo eittl evi! Uo dhoul hatc foursel!" She flails at the ground

I get off her. Shit, I have to activate my little translation magicks. My fingers flick right, and out snaps a gold hum from my eye, to which the aura links to her own eye, and then ethereal rays swirl around my earlobe.

The maid stumbles back, taken ashock by the translation chains. "What thou art did to me!"

"Uh, machine translated you?"

"Eittl evi! Get thine light off me!" She dusts herself, swatting at the magicks.

"Well, I wasn't taught how to do that."

"Soccer blue!" She turns to leave the room.

Finally, a vacant room to myself. And a coffee on the nightstand to boot! Nice!

I take the dainty cup to my mouth, and I sip upon the oaken caffeine substance. The aroma wafts through my taste buds and nostrils; it tastes - uh - well to put simply, most definitely, and most assuredly, this beverage to which had invaded my senses, the coffee's fucking mediocre! And at that, my mouth remains still and unexcited at the stale taste, thus there lets out a sigh of disappointment. Oh well, what would I know about coffee anyways? Or fantasy coffee anyways? Is this thing made from elven shit? Do elves exist here? Fuck elves. Not literally, like fuck them as in take those knife-eared pieces of shits into a woodchipper.

Ricket, ricket. My window glass hums with a ricketing. Interrupted, the clear window fogged up into mist; well, how dare they, my little opening to the outside world had been shut out, shaking. Strange, so I take a handkerchief from the nightstand and wipe the dear old glass. That should clear it up.

The wipe took to the glass, squeak-squeak-whip, and through the parting of the moisture there shined some reptilian teeth, and through that teeth was a salivating tongue. One more wipe, and the clearing of the window had revealed to me the face of the red dragon. Its predative, unfeeling slit pupil stared through myself.

The world spins, and I fall backwards, the slams of the wood board splitting the back of my head.

For what fucking reason I was sent here? My old, real life is better than this fantasy bullshit. This escapist delusion, I have no need for, especially as a child soldier. This world has no meaning to me and its inhabitants are just as useless as my classmates. So why did this happen? Did someone decide it was fun? Or was this just some sick twisted game? What am I meant to do? Just accept all this and continue to endure whatever fate is waiting for me beyond this world of arcane magicks?

More importantly, who the fuck killed my innocent classmates?! That- That smell of rot! That putrid disease! Fuck! This is just a trick! Someone was trying to lure me out and I am falling for it hook, line and sinker! That must be why that portal was there!

I rip out a piece of note paper, took a needle, and pricked my finger. If- If I must be trapped in this. If I have to go longer in this. They will regret it. I will adapt. They will pay. I will persevere. They will burn.

That magic ray of light, which traced from the doorframe and to my ear, grew thicker and more visible.

Knock, knock. Knock.

"Come in." I call out.

It's the maid again. "Breakfast is ready, eittl evi. Come."

"Uh, may you escort me to the dining room?" I scratch my scalp.

"Yes, eittl evi."

She leads me down the hallway, until finally I reach the very last door. Her hands are clasped together neatly, on her face. I turn the door, and upon entrance, the humble eating place reveals to me some sort of feast laid on every table. There were plates of food piled high. And on each dish was a different type of food. Oblongs, bread, gamey meats, triangles and wine, and all sorts of mysterious foodstuffs. They look presentable, but probably taste like shit.

The maid pulls the chair, and I take my seat. I'm three feet away from the table. I think she pulled it too far.

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She talks to the head of the dining table. "Meister, I hate foreigners."

"Hm." He looks directly in my direction. "Dn tha tbou ehes rthers?" Fuck, translation only works on one person!

"Hi, asshole." The goth girl throws something at me, which I dodge successfully.

The nerd flings a middle finger at me. "My older sister is better than you!"

Whatever. I scooted forth to my meal, several times, like each scoot was just a nudge, and each scoot was jarringly loud, because each scoot creaked against the wood boards and made ruckus across the wood grain. Scoot, scoot, creak. Cre-e-e-ak. Scoot, creak, creak. Crek, crek, creak, crek!

I looked up from the chair, and saw their faces. They were visibly irritated, and for good reason - a reason that I gave them. But, you know what? Fuck them. Fuck each and every single of these motherfuckers at this dining table. I want to eat with my dad, my mom, my brother, my sisters, and share a good little mediocre eggs and steak breakfast. Because I care about my actual home more than these fuckers.

I pick up these little chopsticks, and miserably stab them into the potato. I don't use chopsticks. I not an anime freak like my dad, and I refuse to. But I try anyway, because I really wanna eat. Maybe that's why I've been stuck here this long? Because I have to live and tolerate this little interdimensional imprisonment?

That one red-silver fucker enters the room, and then engulfed us in his little gold aura again.

"The ghouls are at hand." He says. "Watch us fight them."

I stood from my meal. "Why the fuck am I here! Why should I fight!"

"Because we're gonna die!" The goth girl shouts. "And it'll be all your fault! You'll get eaten alive by those things. All those disgusting monsters. All those pathetic, weak, pathetic ghouls. You're going to die, and it's all your fault!"

"I'm not talking to you bitch!"

"We're heroes, asshole! This stupid tantrum of yours is just as important to me as it is to you! We're fighting a war, a real one, with these monsters! You don't know how dangerous they are, how hard it'll be to fight them. I mean we can't even defeat the damn dragons in the beginning. How much harder will it be to defeat this ghoul horde?"

This bitc- Wait, what? "Dr-Dragons-s-s? With an 'S'? Plural?"

"Yes with a fucking 'S,' are you stupid!"

"They're out there." My heart sinks. "They're out in our world, burning my life down, and there's multiple of them?"

"Yes, and these ghouls are gonna kill us too. And. Fuck!" She throws her plate against the wall, shards of porcelain sprinkling across. "You're stupid! If you care so much about your family, care about theirs, too!"

"Oh fuck you!" I yell. "Fuck all of you! I don't give two flying fuck about anyone other than myself! I've fought this whole fucking war in my dreams already! Why are you guys fighting for me when you don't even understand how fucked up this shit is! You're fucking-!"

My right hand glows brightly, sparkling embers and then catches flame. It burns! It consumes the air around me! The flames leap into my mouth! My throat! My nostrils! Everything that touched it is now on fire, my clothes catching. And I hear "laughter." Not the kind of laugh you hear at Christmas, or a happy birthday party. The ones you hear after killing the entire population of an island, or a group of people in a city full of them. No. These were screams. Real, guttural, terrified, screams.

Each and every single one of those sounds tear through me, and the flames purging my skin and the screams tearing my mind about bring my soul to utter pain! My ghost drops from my own body, screaming, crying, stumbling about, running, running. I run, I run, I run, until I collapse against the wall.

My body shakes with sobs. My throat feels raw.

And it stops.

Reality parts and reforms, and there laying on the ground, there I was, simply untouched, but rather, shaken. I turn to see that red-silver fucker. He's laughing at me, holding and tapping a cigarette between his fingers. He doesn't smoke it, he just flicks the perfectly good cig onto me. The disrespect!

The bastard grabs my neck. "So sorry. So very sorry. You work for me."

"What do you want?" I grit my teeth. He releases me, and though I try to stand, my nerves fail me.

"I already said! You think I am bad guy?" He laughs again. "I'm not! You are! I am not asking to kill innocent people. You are letting them die! You are very ridiculous! You need a lesson in reality!"

"Okay stop it now!" The goth runs over to me. "He's learned it already, don't hurt him.

The two of them, no more like the whole room, pleaded and argued back and forth into a dizzying tirade. The contents of their pointless little debacle swirling into just one huge catatonic mess. To what will it amount to?

My head's dizzy. My lungs are heaving. My nerves are fired and fried. I'm just laying there, and that's all. Just gotta breathe in, and then breathe out, and then blink my eyes close, and then open the eyelids. Just the little therapy routines, that's all, well, all that I could while I'm a half vegetable. What's left of my mind. What I thought was the brain. But it's gone.

The fire goes out. It goes away. It fades.

Before I realized it, the dining hall's been vacated, save for me and the two other Americans here - the goth and the nerd.

"A-Are you happy now?" I turn my head towards the goth, my neck strained.

"Don't-!" She grabs and places a seat cushion underneath my head. "Don't strain yourself."

"Are you happy you won the argument? With violent magicks?"

"Huh? No, I don't care. But- But-"

"You guys must be so happy living your escapist fantasies. Living the magic world."

She sighs, stiffening her finger against her eyebrow. "I-If you're depressed, just be honest about it."

"What does-"

"Tell me how you're feeling, your emotions, your sadness, your anger, whatever, I've dealt with it before. I've had friends hurt themselves before, and that wasn't okay, and I'm willing to be patient with you. Just. Just accept this stupid new escapist fantasy."

"Whatever."

"And don't punch my little brother ever again!"