The Misplaced Hero

Ethan Turner was used to being overlooked. At 16, he was a quiet, introverted boy with a round face, glasses perpetually sliding down his nose, and a deep love for coding and video games. The world outside his bedroom didn’t matter much to him; it had never cared for him, and he had no love for it in return.

Living with his mother in a small, rundown apartment, Ethan found solace in the digital worlds he created. His proudest achievement was a game he’d coded from scratch—a sprawling sandbox adventure full of puzzles, traps, and fantastical creations. It was his escape, his sanctuary, where his creativity knew no bounds.

At school, Ethan was invisible to most, though a few took pleasure in mocking his weight, his hobbies, or his awkward silences. Even his teachers didn’t seem to notice him, save for the occasional scolding when he was caught tinkering with his laptop during class.

That morning was no different. Ethan sat at the back of the room, eyes glued to his screen, fine-tuning a puzzle sequence in his game. He barely noticed the buzz of conversation around him as his classmates talked about weekend plans or shared memes on their phones.

And then, everything changed.

A flash of light swallowed the classroom, brighter than anything Ethan had ever seen. He barely had time to shut his laptop before he felt a force yanking him forward, as if the world itself was pulling him apart.

When the light faded, Ethan and his classmates found themselves in an enormous, otherworldly hall. Towering marble columns stretched toward a domed ceiling covered in glowing runes, and banners bearing an unfamiliar crest hung along the walls. The air was heavy with a strange, electric energy.

“Welcome, chosen heroes!” a voice boomed, echoing across the chamber.

At the center of the hall stood a regal man in golden robes, his silver crown gleaming atop his head. Soldiers flanked him, their armor polished to a mirror shine, while robed scholars whispered among themselves. The king’s warm smile seemed to radiate genuine hope as he stepped forward, addressing the wide-eyed group of teenagers.

“You have been summoned to aid our kingdom in its darkest hour,” the king declared. “Each of you has been blessed with unique gifts—gifts that will help us triumph over the evil threatening our land.”

Ethan exchanged nervous glances with his classmates. Some looked excited, others terrified. Ethan? He felt a sinking pit in his stomach. This was no video game.

The king called for a mage, an elderly woman with a staff adorned with glowing crystals, to assess the abilities of the summoned heroes. One by one, Ethan’s classmates stepped forward, their powers revealed through a glowing sigil that appeared above their heads.

“Master Swordsman!”

“Pyromancer Extraordinaire!”

“Healer of Divine Light!”

The titles grew grander with each student, and Ethan could feel the excitement in the room growing.

Finally, it was his turn. Ethan hesitated but stepped forward, his heart pounding. The mage waved her staff, chanting an incantation. A faint glow surrounded Ethan before a sigil appeared above his head.

“Basic Constructor.”

The room fell silent. The sigil was simple—a hammer crossed with a wrench. It wasn’t flashy like the others. It didn’t scream power or heroism. It was a skill so common that even peasants and apprentice mages possessed it.

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“Basic Constructor?” someone whispered.

“Is that even useful?” another snickered.

Ethan felt his face heat up as the murmurs spread. The king’s warm expression faded, replaced by a frown of disappointment.

“Surely this is a mistake,” the king said, turning to the mage. “This boy cannot be one of the chosen.”

“I… I am sorry, Your Majesty,” the mage said hesitantly. “But the summoning spell cannot err. He is as he was summoned.”

The king sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If he cannot be sent back, then he has no place here. He will be nothing but a burden.”

The mage’s expression softened. “Your Majesty, perhaps—”

“Enough,” the king snapped. “Discard him. Send him somewhere far away where he will not interfere.”

Before Ethan could protest, the mage raised her staff, and a portal swirled open beneath him. Ethan’s heart sank as he felt himself being pulled toward it.

“No, wait—!” he shouted, but the spell activated, and pain ripped through him like fire. His screams echoed through the hall as the portal swallowed him whole.

When Ethan woke, he was lying on a stinking bed of broken glass and rusted metal. The air reeked of decay, and the sky above was a sickly yellow, choked with smog. He sat up, wincing as every muscle in his body ached. Surrounding him was an endless landscape of trash—mountains of discarded machinery, broken furniture, and rotting food. Rats scurried between the piles, their beady eyes glinting in the dim light.

Ethan’s stomach growled painfully. He spotted a cockroach crawling nearby and shuddered. “No way,” he muttered.

Alone in this desolate place, with nothing to eat, he wondered why this was happening to him. What did I do to deserve this? he thought. Tears streamed down his face as he cried, overwhelmed by hatred, pain, and suffering. If things continued like this, he would surely die.

For two days, he endured without food, his body growing weaker with each passing hour. But as hunger gnawed at him, desperation set in. Trembling, he picked up the cockroach, grimacing in disgust, and swallowed it whole.

For weeks, Ethan survived on scraps and whatever else he could scavenge. Each day was a struggle, but amidst his searching, he stumbled upon a glimmer of hope: old books scattered among the trash. They were basic magic tomes that taught him simple spells for starting fires and purifying water. Though the spells weren’t powerful, they were just enough to keep him alive.

Then, one day, as he dug through a pile of broken machinery, Ethan found something that made his heart skip a beat: an old computer.

It was scratched and battered, but it was unmistakably a relic from his world. Tears streamed down his face as he cradled it, the first familiar thing he’d seen in this alien wasteland. Using the magic he’d learned, he managed to power it on.

The screen flickered to life, revealing a treasure trove of old games—pixelated adventures that brought a spark of joy to his bleak existence. For the first time in what felt like forever, Ethan smiled.

Two years passed. Ethan, now leaner and hardened by his harsh environment, had turned the trash world into his workshop. Using his Basic Constructor skill, he built small machines from salvaged parts: mini-robots, a makeshift gaming console, and even a rudimentary water filter.

But his most fascinating discovery was the magical stones scattered throughout the trash. The books he’d found described magical stones as blue, but these were purple, and their power was unlike anything he’d ever read about. Though he couldn’t wield them like a mage, he discovered ways to harness their energy through machines.

It took years of trial and error, but eventually, Ethan created something extraordinary: a gun powered by the magical stones. It could fire bursts of energy strong enough to vaporize metal.

But that wasn’t all. Using the stones and his programming knowledge from his previous world, Ethan built a teleportation machine. After ten years of suffering, he looked skinny and unkempt, his body scarred and his hair long and wild. Yet, for the first time in years, he felt a sense of hope.

The machine wasn’t perfect—he had no way to control where it would send him—but he was determined to escape the trash world, no matter the risks.

When the machine finally powered up, Ethan stood before it, his heart racing. He’d spent a decade in this wasteland, and now, at last, he had a chance to leave. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the portal.

The journey was instantaneous but agonizing, like being ripped apart and stitched back together. When he landed, he collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.

Looking around, Ethan’s heart sank. The sky was black, filled with ash and fire. The air was thick with smoke, and the ground was littered with corpses.

“This… this is worse,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

As monstrous creatures emerged from the shadows, Ethan tightened his grip on his energy gun.

“If this world wants to break me,” he muttered, his eyes blazing with determination, “it’ll have to try harder than that.”

He swore under his breath, vowing to kill and destroy those who had made his life a living hell.