Ethan leaned against the register counter at RidgeRunner Outdoor Supply, idly spinning a cheap carabiner between his fingers. The rhythmic click of the automatic doors opening and closing filled the air, accompanied by the faint whir of ceiling fans and pine-scented display candles. A couple entered the store, beaming as they debated between ultralight backpacks for their next big hike.
“Next big hike,” Ethan muttered under his breath with a wry grin. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done anything that sounded even remotely exciting. Sure, he went fishing occasionally—nothing fancy, just him and a pole by the nearest stream—but that wasn’t exactly thrill-seeking. It was just something to do.
“Hey, Ethan!” his coworker, a chipper college sophomore named Maya, called from across the store. She waved a pair of binoculars. “You think these are better for birdwatching or spying on your neighbors?”
Ethan smirked. “Depends on the neighbors.”
Maya laughed and turned back to stocking shelves, leaving Ethan alone again with his thoughts.
He liked the store well enough. It paid the bills, and he got a nice discount on camping gear, which occasionally came in handy. But as he watched customers browse through racks of hiking boots and fishing poles with genuine enthusiasm, he felt like he was on the outside of his own life, watching other people live theirs.
Seattle’s perpetually gray skies pressed down on him, heavy and unrelenting. It wasn’t that he hated the city—he’d lived here his whole life, after all—but the sameness of it all was starting to feel suffocating.
He didn’t know how to describe his life, really. Unsatisfying? Sure. But he wasn’t miserable, either. He had a job, an apartment, and a small circle of friends who dragged him to all sorts of get-togethers. Yet something was missing—a purpose, a spark. He’d caught glimpses of it as a kid when he was deep into martial arts classes, and later when he discovered climbing and hiking. But now, in his adulthood, the spark was gone, and he didn’t know how to find it again.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see a text from his mom.
“Dad and I were talking. What did you decide on for next semester? You should really get back to classes.”
Ethan sighed and slipped his phone back into his pocket. It wasn’t the first time his parents had pestered him about classes, and it wouldn’t be the last. They meant well, but their words only made the hollow feeling in his chest worse. He’d tried college for a year—business administration, of all things—but dropped out after realizing he didn’t want to spend his prime studying and writing essays. Yet here he was, spending it stocking shelves.
The truth was, he didn’t know what he wanted. And maybe that was the real problem.
He glanced at the clock. Just two more hours until his shift ended and he could go home, crack open the novel he’d been reading, and lose himself in someone else’s adventure for a while. In those stories, the heroes always knew what they were meant to do, and where they belonged.
He rested his chin in his hand, staring out the window as a fresh drizzle coated the pavement. If only real life were that simple.
Ethan zipped up his jacket as he stepped out of RidgeRunner and into the damp Seattle evening. The city was alive with the hum of distant traffic and the soft patter of rain against concrete. The streetlights cast shimmering reflections on the wet sidewalks, their glow diffused through the persistent mist.
His usual bus stop was a block away, but he decided to walk the few miles home instead. It wasn’t that he particularly enjoyed the rain—his perpetually damp shoes could attest to that—but he liked the quiet it brought. The streets weren’t empty, but they felt calmer, like the whole city was taking a collective breath.
Hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, Ethan wandered through familiar streets, his mind spinning in circles. His parents’ words lingered, echoing with an irritating clarity. What did you decide on for next semester? It wasn’t a bad idea, going back to school, and he knew they were just trying to help. But every time he considered it, he felt this heavy resistance, like he was being asked to run a race he’d already lost.
What would he even study? Business had been a disaster. He’d entertained the idea of studying literature once—he loved stories, after all—but the thought of turning his escape into a job made him queasy. And then there was the gnawing voice in the back of his mind, you’ll fail anyway, just like last time.
Ethan’s thoughts were interrupted by the sharp bark of a dog. He looked up and spotted an elderly man attempting to chase down a wiry terrier, running and darting around. The man was clearly outmatched by the energetic dog, who seemed determined to chase every passing car.
“Need a hand?” Ethan called out, jogging toward them.
The man looked up, startled. “Oh, thank you, young man. I swear, this little guy has the energy of ten dogs!”
Ethan darted over and gently scooped the dog up, holding it firmly but not harshly. “Hey there, buddy,” he said, scratching behind the terrier’s ears. The dog immediately calmed, wagging its tail as if nothing had happened.
The man chuckled in relief. “You’ve got the magic touch. My grandson’s supposed to walk him, but I got roped into it today.”
“Sounds like you need a leash for your grandson too,” Ethan joked, earning a laugh.
After making sure the man had a better grip on the leash, Ethan continued on his way, the faint sound of the man thanking him trailing behind. It wasn’t much, but the encounter left him feeling lighter, even if only for a moment.
The rain eased into a soft drizzle as he walked, and his thoughts returned to their usual haunt. He wasn’t a bad person; he tried to help when he could, even if it was just lending a hand or two. But it didn’t feel like enough to bring him purpose.
Ethan stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. A group of friends laughed and chatted behind him, their energy contagious. He envied their carefree vibe, their apparent ease with life.
When the signal changed, he stepped off the curb, passing a small bookstore he used to visit as a kid. The sight of it made him pause. The lights inside were warm and inviting, and for a fleeting moment, he considered going in, losing himself in the smell of paper and ink. But instead, he shook his head and kept walking.
Books were great, but they didn’t have answers. Not the ones he needed, anyway.
By the time he reached his apartment, the rain had stopped, leaving the city cloaked in a cool mist. Ethan climbed the steps to his door, unlocking it with the familiarity of muscle memory. Inside, the space was quiet and still. A stack of unopened mail sat on the counter, and his jacket landed on the back of a chair.
As he settled into the worn couch, he pulled out a tattered novel. For now, at least, he could put everything else aside.
Ethan flipped the page of the novel, his mind fabricating the text into a dramatic image of a hero clashing with a towering demon lord. The hero’s sword glowed with righteous fury, and Ethan couldn’t help but get chills, despite himself.
Must be nice, he thought. Saving the world with a magic sword. Bet that guy doesn’t have to worry about rent.
He lowered the book down, staring at the faint outline of the Seattle skyline visible through his rain-streaked window. His thoughts wandered, as they often did, to the bigger questions. What was he doing with his life? Was this it? Stocking shelves, selling tents, and living paycheck to paycheck? He was too practical to say he hated his life—it wasn’t that bad—but it was hard not to wonder what else might be out there.
That’s when he felt it—a subtle, almost imperceptible shift.
The room stretched for a fraction of a second, as if the walls had pulled away from each other. Ethan blinked and shook his head.
What the hell, he thought, putting his book down,
He stood and looked around. Everything seemed normal. The lights glowed softly, the rain tapped against the glass, and the distant hum of a neighbor’s TV droned on. But there was something wrong.
He took a step forward, and the floor beneath him felt… off. It wasn’t creaky or uneven. It was more like the space itself wavered underfoot, like walking on a trampoline stretched too tight. He froze, heart pounding, as the sensation grew stronger.
The air shimmered in the corner of his living room, bending like heat waves rising off asphalt. The distortion spread outward, warping the walls and furniture. Objects seemed to twist in place, their shapes bending in impossible ways.
Ethan stumbled back. “Okay, nah. Nah nah nah.”
The shimmer solidified, collapsing inward until it coalesced into a figure—a man, or something that resembled one. He was unremarkable in every way: medium height, medium build, with plain features that refused to stick in Ethan’s mind. His simple garb was deep purple, but as Ethan stared at it, the fabric seemed to shift subtly, like it couldn’t decide what it wanted to be.
“Who—who are you?” Ethan managed to choke out, his voice shaking.
The man tilted his head, the motion oddly fluid, as if his neck were made of something other than bone. “Let’s just say I’m someone who’s been watching you.”
Ethan took another step back, his legs bumping into the couch. “Watching me? That's kinda creepy, dude.”
The man smirked, a small, knowing expression that only made Ethan more uneasy. “Relax. I’m not here to harm you.”
“Yeah? That’s exactly what someone here to harm me would say.”
The man’s smirk deepened, and he took a step forward. The air around him shimmered again, distorting space as if the very idea of his presence bent reality. Ethan felt a wave of vertigo, like standing too close to the edge of a cliff.
This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.
“Ethan Nakamura,” the man said, his tone calm but firm. “You’ve been waiting for something. A purpose. A chance to be more than just… this.” He gestured toward the room.
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Are my digs really that bad? No hold- hold on, how do you know my name?”
“I see and hear a great many things,” the man said. His eyes sparkled a deep purple. He gestured with one hand, and the space between them seemed to ripple. The distance didn’t shorten, but it felt like it had, as though the man had bridged the gap with a simple thought.
“What do you want?” Ethan asked, his knuckles white, fingers digging into his palms.
“What I want?” The man asked, tilting his head quizzically. “What I need is a hero.” His head returned to its natural angle and his eyes grew stern. “ What my world needs is a hero.”
Ethan scoffed, trying to mask his unease. “If you’re selling something, I’m not interested.”
“This is not a sales pitch,” the man said, his voice taking on a sharper edge. “My universe is near its end. It is volatile and compressed, full of potential energy, like a spring. If anything unravels the threads that bind it together, its rapid extension will shatter it completely, and the force of its snapping will ripple throughout everything—your world, my world, all worlds—will feel the effect. That is, unless, you step in, hero.”
Ethan stared at him, his breath caught in his throat. “Damn, that’s some exposition… You’re serious.”
“Deadly serious,” the man said. “Are you?”
Ethan shook his head. “And why can’t you step in? You seem pretty all-powerful”
“I may see all, but I am not all-powerful. I cannot affect the world in the ways you can, I am a very singular being… I walk the realms, and I briefly visit worlds that are not my own. Outside of that, Ethan, I am weak.” His smile faded. “That’s why I need you.”
Ethan hesitated, the weight of the man’s words sinking in. It felt absurd—like the plot of one of his novels come to life—but the distortion in the air, the feeling of reality bending around him, made it impossible to deny.
“Why me?” Ethan finally asked.
The man’s expression softened, though his unsettling presence didn’t fade. “I’ve watched you for a while now. Maybe it's because you’re not like the others. You can make choices they never could. You can see beyond what’s in front of you. And, frankly, because I need someone who’s willing to question the very nature of the universe.”
“That’s kinda vague, man.” Ethan swallowed hard, his mind racing. Part of him wanted to laugh, to dismiss it all as a hallucination or a bad dream. But another part of him, the part that had spent so many nights yearning for something more, felt a flicker of hope.
“What happens if I say no?” Ethan asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Theres so much you’re not telling me.”
The man’s smile dropped, and the space around him seemed to pulse with restrained energy. “You won’t. You know what you need to.”
Ethan’s breath hitched as the shimmering figure grew closer. The air grew heavy, charged with an energy that prickled at his skin. The warped space around the man seemed to pulse in time with his words.
“You won’t say no,” the man repeated, his voice reverberating strangely. It wasn’t a threat—at least, not directly. But something about it carried the weight of inevitability.
Before Ethan could respond, the floor beneath him shifted. It didn’t creak or buckle—it moved, as though the space itself had decided to reject its purpose. He stumbled, gripping the back of the couch for balance.
“Hey! What’s happening?!”
The man raised a hand, and the room rippled in response. “You’ve made your choice, whether you realize it or not.”
“I didn’t agree to anything!” Ethan shouted, but his voice sounded distant, like it was being swallowed by the distorted air.
“You didn’t have to,” the man said. “Your heart already answered.”
The room began to dissolve, its angles bending and twisting into a kaleidoscope of impossible shapes. Ethan felt himself pulled upward, the sensation akin to being yanked by an invisible hook.
“Wait!” he shouted, panic surging. “Where are you taking me? What do you want from me?”
The man paused, his expression softening, almost pitying. “You’re going to a place that needs you, Ethan. A realm teetering on the edge of annihilation. Your task is simple, in concept: restore balance, prevent the unraveling, and—above all—survive.”
Ethan stared, slack-jawed. “Balance? Collapse? What does that even mean? Can you speak like a normal person for once?”
The man’s eyes glimmered faintly, like distant stars. “The world you are about to enter is part of a fragile system—a system breaking apart. There are those who would see it shattered entirely, plunging all into chaos. You must stop them.”
Ethan’s brow furrowed. “Okay, but why me? I’m not some chosen warrior or whatever. I’m just a guy who stocks shelves!”
“That is precisely why you are suited for this,” the man said. “You’re unbound by the rules of their world. An outsider’s perspective, free from the biases of the realms, can make all the difference. And…” He hesitated, his gaze sharpening. “You will have my blessing, as the ruler of space… Anyways, you’re more resilient than you think, Ethan Nakamura.”
“Uh-huh. So, what exactly am I supposed to do? Punch evil in the face? Hug it until it feels better?” Ethan’s voice dripped with sarcasm, but his hands trembled.
“You’ll have to find your own path,” the man replied. “The one you must seek out and destroy is a being who threatens everything. He rose from the depths of hell, cursing the natural order and spreading destruction and chaos. He is powerful, cunning, and utterly relentless. But he can be defeated. You’ll have allies, though their trust must be earned. The road ahead will be perilous, but I would not send you if I didn’t believe you could succeed.”
Ethan’s mind reeled, the enormity of the situation crashing down on him. “This… This is insane. I don’t know the first thing about fighting evil overlords or saving worlds!”
“You’ll learn,” the man said. “The world you enter will test you, shape you, and perhaps even break you. But you are capable of rising above it.”
The room folded in on itself, and Ethan felt his body being pulled into a void of swirling colors. “Wait! What if I—”
“No more questions. I, Astrus, ur-god of space, swear you shall succeed in your task. Fate ensures it,” Astrus said, his voice distant now, like an echo in a vast cavern. “Trust me. Trust your instincts, Ethan. Most of all, trust yourself.”
Ethan felt his body pulse and warp. He tried to shout something back, but his voice was lost in the roar of rushing air. The room disappeared, replaced by a swirling vortex of light and shadow.
Ethan woke with a start, lying flat on his back in a field. The air was crisp and carried the faint scent of wildflowers. He sat up, blinking at the vibrant sky above him—a swirling expanse of blue and milky white, unlike anything he’d ever seen.
He groaned, rubbing his temples. “Great. I’m in a fantasy painting. Fine. Whatever.”
Pushing himself to his feet, he surveyed the landscape. Tall green grass stretched almost endlessly in every direction, dotted with strange violet flowers that shimmered like glass. Beyond the field, a dense forest loomed, its trees impossibly tall. In the distance, jagged mountains glowed faintly in the golden light.
“Okay,” he muttered. “Step one: Don’t freak out. Step two: Figure out where the hell I am.”
As he trudged through the grass, his thoughts raced. Astrus, had been frustratingly vague, but a few things stuck: there was someone dangerous he had to stop, allies he had to find, and… something about Fate? That seemed important. It was italicized, after all
He paused, glancing at the sky. “Why do I feel like I just got conned into playing the world’s hardest video game?”
The grass rustled nearby, and Ethan froze. His heart pounded as he scanned the area. “Hello?”
The rustling grew louder, and a figure emerged—a large, rabbit-like creature with brown fur that shimmered in the sunlight. It stared at him with luminous eyes, its ears twitching.
Ethan exhaled, laughing nervously. “Hey there little guy.”
Okay, just a bunny, he thought, sighing.
But as he stepped away, the creature let out a high-pitched screech and darted into the grass.
Ethan stumbled back at the sound, surprised such an unassuming creature could make such a shrill sound. Getting his bearings, he started hiking through the grass again, working his way towards a creek he spotted bordering the giant forest.
As he walked, the scent of fresh water grew stronger, and the air felt different here—crisper, as though the very atmosphere was charged with energy. His footsteps crunched lightly underfoot, the earth soft yet firm. The further he went, the more surreal the world became. The flowers on either side of the field shifted in the breeze like tiny shards of glass, refracting the sunlight into strange, vivid hues.
Ethan reached the creek, its waters flowing rapidly, sparkling with an almost unnatural clarity. He knelt beside it, cupping his hands to take a drink.
Ethan lingered by the creek for a moment, letting the cool water settle the anxiety twisting in his gut. He took a few more sips, savoring the moment of calm, though the quiet of this strange world only made him feel more isolated. He was thirsty, yes, but there was something else in the air here—something unnatural. It didn’t sit right with him, but he couldn’t put a finger on why.
Pushing the unease to the back of his mind, he stood up, wiping his hands on his pants. The sight of the distant forest and jagged mountains ahead nagged at him. His instincts told him to keep moving, but where? There had to be someone—someone who could explain what the hell was going on.
As he began to walk along the creek’s edge, he thought he saw something in the distance—a faint glow between the trees. His curiosity piqued, and he quickened his pace, following the subtle light like a beacon through the wilderness. The air grew warmer as he approached, and the shadows cast by the towering trees seemed less oppressive, more welcoming.
Soon enough, the trees began to thin, revealing a small clearing. And in the center of that clearing stood a village. It wasn’t much—a few dozen stone cottages with thatched roofs, smoke curling from chimneys, and a few dirt paths winding between them. It looked quaint, even peaceful, like something out of a story book.
Ethan’s heart skipped a beat. Was this real? Could it be that simple?
As he approached the village, the low hum of activity filled the air. People moved about—some carrying baskets, others tending to small gardens or chatting in hushed tones. There was a market of sorts near the center, where people were selling strange fruits and vegetables he’d never seen before.
He hesitated for a moment. His mind raced with questions. Was this where he’d find answers? Was this the kind of place where he could figure out who or what he was supposed to be, or was it just another stop on some grand, confusing journey that he wasn’t prepared for?
A man, tall and broad-shouldered, noticed Ethan’s approach. He was dressed in rough-spun clothes, his face weathered but kind. He walked over, a cautious smile on his face.
"Lost, traveler?" the man asked, his voice deep but friendly.
Ethan paused, unsure whether to lie or be honest. But, in the end, what was the point of pretending? "Yeah, pretty much. I… I don't really know where I am or what I'm doing here. I just sort of… ended up in this place."
The man studied him for a moment, as if weighing his words. "You’re not the only one. This land has a way of pulling people from all walks of life. Come, you look like you could use a rest."
Without waiting for a response, the man motioned for Ethan to follow him. Ethan felt an odd sense of relief, his shoulders relaxing as he trailed behind the man. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected from this world, but it hadn’t been this—a quiet, humble village where people seemed to go about their lives as if nothing were wrong.
The man led him to a simple bench under a large tree. "Sit. You’ll be safe here for now. I’ll fetch you something to eat."
Ethan sat down, still trying to make sense of the last hour, of everything that had happened.
As he watched the villagers go about their business, the reality of the situation began to settle in. He was stuck here. There was no going back. And he had no idea how to get out.
But soon after arriving, he wasn’t alone. There were people here. Maybe they had answers. Maybe they knew something about the fate he seemed to be tangled up in.
Ethan sighed, staring at the sky, now tinged with the orange glow of a setting sun. The world felt a little less alien now, but he knew one thing for certain: This was just the beginning.
And whatever came next, he was going to have to figure it out on his own.
For now, though, he let himself relax. Just a little.