Sorry, I decided to keep this same prologue for my another story - Chosen by Chaos.

For many, childhood is the brightest time of their life. For some, it is Hell. Mine was infinitely closer to the latter type. My parents cared about me as much as of their own health—which meant, barely at all, that with their love for alcohol, drugs and unprotected sex. Why couldn’t they have enjoyed just some good old rock’n’roll?

Many times I was shooed away from my own home so that they could have some fun partying without the nuisance that was their kid. Thankfully, I was rarely forced to spend the night at the street—my neighbors were very kind and caring people, despite being as dirt poor as my parents.

The most dear memories of my early childhood were related to staying the night at my neighbors’ place and sleeping in one bed with their daughter, a few years my senior. I was only a brat at the time—not even in my teens—so no one was particularly bothered by this arrangement. The reason why those nights stuck to me so much was the story the girl was telling me.

That was a story of a boy who was all alone and had no friend nor family. A boy who was even more pitiable than me. One day, when the boy lamented his fate and prayed for a change, a kind Goddess responded to his call. She offered him a chance in a different world. A world of magic and monsters, a world of danger and opportunity. There, the boy was given power as well as a mission. There, the boy was revered a hero. He befriended the beautiful princess and won her heart after growing up and saving her kingdom from an evil dragon. The boy was a knight as well as a wizard, and no one could rival his might. In the end, he married the princess, and they spent their long lives in happiness.

I didn’t love that story for the happy ending, nor for the romance. I was too young to understand the matters between men and women, anyway. What truly touched my heart was the power the boy held—the power to change his destiny, the magic to flatten mountains, the sword to slay any enemy. What excited me were the adventures he had experienced on his way to power, not the destination at the end.

One day, the girl and her family disappeared. They moved to another place without a warning, leaving me alone yet again. A part of me even doubted if they were even real to begin with. For some reason, I couldn’t even remember their names. Perhaps the girl and her caring family were just creations of my wild imagination, a hallucination to escape the harsh reality of neglect at home and bullying at school.

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Oh yeah, the school. . . The school taught me how cruel people could be. As well as how to protect myself with wit instead of brawl. I was just a scrawny white kid in a ghetto school, so it was only natural that I would be a priority target for bullies. Except, inspired by the stories of another world, one day I decided to fight back. And won. Since then, I learned how to adapt. How to win even before a battle started—with a clever word and, if this wasn’t enough, with a sucker punch. At the time I graduated from elementary school, no one saw me as someone to be trifled with. That was at least one problem less.

I tried hard to get good grades, but trying wasn’t enough when your parents neglected you and teachers at your school couldn't care less about education. Inspired by the story from my childhood, I wanted to become someone who saved lives—be it firefighter, cop, or doctor, there was a broad choice of professions. None of which were available to someone like me.

I was kicked out of my home as soon as I hit eighteen. After living with my friends and one minimum wage job after another, I eventually found my forte—scamming people. Well, that was putting it a bit too harshly… I was good at selling things. I could’ve made a fortune if I decided to become a real con artist or, even worse, agreed to the proposal of my former classmate and sell drugs. I’d rather die than do the latter—if I hated anything in my life more than my parents, that would be what had made them into who they were to begin with.

One thing anyone could do and still earn decent cash was multi-level marketing. Which was exactly what I started to do for a living less than a year after becoming an adult. At last, I earned enough to rent an apartment and always having something to eat. And the best thing? My conscience was almost clear. Almost.

The next couple of years I spend giving people an opportunity of their lifetime, giving them one exception offer after another. And I even barely needed to lie, because some of my products were almost as good as the price tag on them. Almost. That was also the time when I started to actively meet women. For better or worse, nothing developed further than a couple of casual flings. To put it frankly, I wasn’t ready for anything serious—not with the baggage of my past and not-so-stable financial situation. Also, I didn’t feel old enough to start a family.

My life continued between earning cash, picking up girls at bars and clubs, and—perhaps the best thing out of the three—playing video games and reading novels. At last, I had a personal computer of my own and enough free time to put it to use. At last, I could become the hero I’d always wanted to be—even if only in games and books. But even those hours of pure bliss as I dived into imaginary worlds didn’t stop me from feeling that I was doing something wrong with my life. On the contrary, that discomfort only intensified, and I had no idea what to do with it. I’d always wanted to become someone important like a hero and to see the world as an adventurer. Instead, I became a sleazy salesman. A very good one, but still.

Sometimes I had that silly thought that it would be great if I found myself in another world. Just like that little boy from the stories of my childhood. Just like the protagonists of the books I read. Maybe then I would make a diffence. Maybe then that annoying feeling would be gone. I had those thoughts while having no idea what future was waiting for me. Perhaps I should’ve been more careful with what I wished for…