Karlos’s morning had been nothing out of the ordinary—until a series of very unfortunate coincidences decided to knock down his door. First, his ceiling fan, that ancient thing, wobbled precariously before crashing down, right into his half-eaten bowl of cereal. Milk and cornflakes went flying, splattering all over him. Before he could even register the mess, his hand shot up reflexively to cover his eyes, and in the chaos, he accidentally smacked his tablet off the counter.

The tablet skittered across the floor, coming to a stop near the baseboard heater. A burning smell filled the room as he scrambled up to see what kind of damage he’d just caused, but before he could reach it, he felt an odd, pulling sensation. It was like the whole world had tilted sideways, dragging him with it. Then, in a flash of light, everything went dark.

When his vision returned, he found himself standing in a dimly lit cavern, surrounded by figures emanating an intimidating, almost palpable energy. These weren’t just any figures—they were familiar, towering warriors, swift rogues, and mages that radiated with raw destructive power. And judging by their heavily stylized armor and high-tier gear, he was certain he’d seen them before. He recognized each one from the game he’d been playing, but now they looked… well, a lot more real.

A tall, armored knight with chiseled features and piercing ocean-blue eyes was glaring at him with an intensity that felt like it could melt steel. The knight’s expression was a mix of annoyance and irritation, but Karlos couldn’t quite understand why. He was about to ask what was going on when the knight interrupted his thoughts.

“Newbie, hurry up and cast that spell so we can finish this faster,” the knight barked, smacking Karlos on the back with a gloved hand that felt like being hit by a cinder block. The sheer force nearly knocked him forward.

“Wait, what spell?” Karlos stammered, still trying to get his bearings. Everything was so confusing, and his surroundings felt both familiar and alien. He didn’t have time to process his new surroundings when he heard a strange voice—disembodied, grumbling to itself.

“Come on, why won’t you move?” the voice complained. “Last time I buy something from a dead guy’s estate sale. I even paid extra because he had the same name as me. ‘Rare collectible,’ my ass.”

Karlos blinked, realizing that this voice wasn’t coming from anyone on the field. It was coming from somewhere else entirely—a player, his mind supplied, the person controlling his character. But why was the player talking about a “dead guy’s device”? And why did they sound so disappointed?

He felt a knot tighten in his stomach as fragments of memory began to surface. He’d been on his way to sell his tablet, had already agreed to part with it… but he never made it. He never got the chance. That terrible twist of fate meant he’d ended up here, somehow sucked into the game in place of his character, a low-tier, F-ranked flame mage meant for free-to-play players.

“Who is that? And why are they talking about buying from dead people?” Karlos mumbled, glancing up at the knight who was still glaring at him expectantly.

The knight rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed. “Are you daft? Just cast that fire spell already. We’ve got a schedule to keep.”

Karlos looked at his hands, realizing he could feel the surge of magic in them, almost instinctively. He muttered the incantation, focusing on the closest monster—a hulking orc—and unleashed his flame spell. A tiny, unimpressive spark shot out, fizzling against the orc’s thick armor. It was hardly more than a flicker, and the orc didn’t even flinch.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

A chorus of groans echoed around him as the other characters watched the spell’s lackluster performance.

“Not much of a spark, are you, Flame Mage?” the knight said with a dry chuckle. “But… I do feel a little boost from your buff. Not much, but it’s there.” He unsheathed his sword, electricity crackling along its edge, and took a step forward. “Guess I’ll have to carry you.”

In a single, fluid motion, the knight swung his blade, shouting, “Thunder Slash!” A powerful arc of lightning exploded from his sword, ripping through the enemies like a storm. Monsters disintegrated under the onslaught, one after another, until only empty silence filled the cavern.

Amid the fading light, a treasure chest dropped from one of the fallen monsters. It glowed briefly before vanishing, much to the knight’s chagrin.

“Only one drop?” he muttered, sheathing his sword. He shot Karlos a disapproving look. “I hope you’re worth the trouble, Flame Mage. Can’t expect us to keep carrying you forever.”

The player’s voice crackled through with a bored sigh. “All right, that was decent. Better than nothing, I guess. Let’s just get through this—don’t need anything fancy.”

Karlos felt the dismissal in the words, but there was no real malice there. Just indifference, like someone barely invested. He was a low-level character, dragged along more for the player’s amusement and a few extra experience points than any real purpose.

Karlos felt his frustration mount. He didn’t want to be dead weight. He wanted to contribute, to make his presence matter. He’d been given this second chance, and he’d be damned if he let himself remain the weakest character on the roster.

As he resolved to make the most of this, another message appeared in his mind’s eye, something he’d seen countless times in his life but never expected to feel like this:

Experience earned will apply after dungeon completion.

It was a small glimmer of hope, a promise that he’d grow stronger if he could just survive each fight. And though his skill barely registered in the grand scheme of things, he knew it had potential, a faint aura that gave his allies a slight edge.

The disembodied voice of the player hummed thoughtfully above, breaking Karlos from his reverie. “All right… Maybe there’s more to this guy after all. My Greg normally leaves the boss at one hp and I have to use another skill. That buff could come in handy for the Abyss dungeon later.

As the party moved forward, Karlos followed, still feeling the weight of his near-uselessness in the last encounter. The cavern around them was damp and dark, lined with walls etched in strange, ancient symbols that seemed to pulse faintly, almost as if alive. Ahead, he could see the rogue, a wiry figure draped in dark, close-fitting leather armor that seemed to drink in the shadows. The rogue’s pace was fast, purposeful, leading them deeper into the dungeon.

“Keep up, newbie,” the rogue called back, not even glancing over his shoulder. His voice was casual, with an edge of cockiness that suggested he knew exactly what he was capable of.

The party continued into the next chamber, their steps almost automatic, like a well-oiled machine that had done this dance countless times. The rogue stretched out lazily, rolling his shoulders before stepping into position, clearly familiar with his role in this repetitive grind. With a casual flick of his wrists, his daggers shimmered, ready for action.

“Yeah, yeah, no need to waste time,” the rogue muttered, almost to himself, before calling out his skill, “Shadow Cascade.” His movements were fluid, routine, an AoE attack that tore through the four monsters in seconds. The creatures barely had time to growl before dissolving into wisps of experience, their remains flickering out in fading embers.

Karlos watched it all, still feeling the novelty of it, even if his teammates didn’t. To them, this was just a mindless grind—another run in a dungeon they knew inside and out.

“Or you could just let the grown-ups handle things,” the knight quipped from behind, clearly unimpressed. But Karlos couldn’t ignore the slight boost in confidence the rogue’s display had given him. Sure, he was currently the weakest link, but he was starting to learn. Each of these characters had a specific purpose in battle, specialized skills that let them excel. He’d have to figure out his own purpose, no matter how small his contribution might seem now.

The party moved through the dungeon with mechanical ease, their movements honed and practiced, as if every step, every strike, was part of an unspoken rhythm. For them, this place wasn’t a challenge—it was routine. But for Karlos, every corner of the dungeon felt charged with a kind of tension he’d never noticed when playing the game. The walls seemed to hum, the shadows felt more profound, and each sound echoed in his chest like a heartbeat.

As they walked into the third chamber, Karlos noticed subtle details he’d overlooked before. The air was thick with a damp, metallic scent, and the stone walls glistened with moisture, carved with faint, glowing runes that looked far more detailed and real than any in-game graphics could ever hope to replicate.

The warrior in the lead barely looked around as he strode confidently into position, casually cracking his knuckles. The player’s voice piped up again, sounding a bit more interested than before.

“All right, Flame Mage. Let’s see if you can do something halfway decent this time. Go ahead, throw out another fire spell—whatever you got.”