The alarm buzzed, waking me from sleep with a jolt. I groggily turned my head to see the time—7 AM. I needed to get moving. But as I glanced out the window, the chill in the air made me reconsider. The cold had a way of making everything feel more surreal, but nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when I sat up in bed.
I froze, staring in disbelief. My room—my ordinary, semi-cluttered room—is gone. In its place is something out of a dream, or more accurately, a film set. "What on earth..." I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. The space around me had transformed into a lavish, almost absurdly royal room, the kind you’d expect to see in a period drama, not in my life. The walls are made of rich looking wallpapers, and the bed I am currently lying on looked like it belonged to royalty. I stumbled out of it, my heart racing, and took a shaky step forward.
Is this real?
I rubbed my eyes, but the vision remained, unyielding and as vivid as ever.
Just what is this? I don’t remember having a room that looks like it’s been plucked straight out of the Edwardian era, with its towering walls and ornate decor. What the hell is going on? I could feel panic bubbling up inside me—understandably so—but outwardly, I just stood there, stunned, trying to make sense of it all. My stuff… my things are gone. And my phone—oh God, not my phone.
I froze, dread settling in the pit of my stomach. This is insane.
Then, I stopped for a second. Think about it—falling asleep in your own bed, only to wake up in a place you could never imagine existing. A place that feels like it’s been ripped from some fantasy novel. Oh no… My thoughts raced as the realization struck me like a speeding bus.
I’m in an isekai, aren’t I?
Still stuck in my frozen "what the hell is going on state, I started walking around, oddly impressed by the luxury surrounding me. Whoever owns this place must have quite the taste. As I wandered, I stumbled across a mirror. My reflection greeted me with my brown hair, and brown skin with tan lines, hey it's me. Great. Just great.
Oh right—back to the point. Where the hell am I again?
That question lingered as I pushed open a set of heavy doors and stepped out onto a balcony. The view is… unexpected. The air is cool and crisp, and below me, a sprawling naval yard dockyard or facilities whatever, stretched out into the distance. Just an expansive sea of warehouses, metal cranes towering like giants over the empty concrete floors/
I don’t get it. What is this place?
I went back inside the room, and for a moment, everything seemed... normal. Or at least, as normal as a grand, over-the-top royal chamber could feel.
I glanced around, taking in the royal furniture, until my eyes landed on a door sitting quietly. It hadn’t caught my attention before, but now it seemed like the obvious next step.
Slowly, I approached it, placing my hand on the cool handle. I hesitated for a moment, heart beating a little faster. Then, with a deep breath, I turned the door open and stepped out into the hallway.
Steeling myself, I stepped outside, finding myself in a long hallway. The walls echoed with silence as I called out into the void, “Hello? Is there anyone here?”
No answer.
Figures. With no better plan in mind, I shrugged and kept moving forward. Because, well... why not?
The hallway is shorter than I expected, and soon enough, I found myself at a grand staircase. It is something straight out of a period drama—elegant carpets ran down the steps, and ornate chandeliers hung above, casting a soft, shimmering light on the varnished wood. The whole place is immaculately maintained, almost unnervingly so.
I carefully made my way down the stairs, my eyes darting around, half-expecting something to happen at any moment. My footsteps echoed softly against the polished wood as I descended, my mind racing with possibilities.
Finally, I reached the bottom and, with no time to spare, bolted for the front door. I flung it open and i quickly sprint out of this building and into the safety of the outside.
The air is fresh, but the stark reality of my surroundings quickly hit me. The floor beneath my feet is cold, concrete, and the entire area around me looked like an eerily empty port. There is nothing here but vast stretches of emptiness. What on earth is this place?
I couldn't help but think, fingers crossed, that if I am going to die, at least I’d done so in a fantasy world.
Just then, I thought I heard something—maybe a sound, maybe just my overactive imagination. Either way, I forced myself to take deep breaths, trying to calm the frantic thoughts racing through my mind.
Well, here I am. Time to figure things out before I completely lose it.
I spun around, taking in the entirety of my surroundings. Besides the grand staircase I’d just descended, the only other notable feature is a single pole with a screen mounted on it. Curiosity piqued, I made my way over to it.
On closer inspection, it is indeed a screen. Using my IT skills—such as they are—I swiped at the screen, and to my surprise, it unlocked, revealing a menu of text buttons asking me where to teleport, well i would like to be teleported back home please.
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Well nothing happened but based on the current location, it says that i am at the Dockyards and there are four more other sections Repair Facilities, Construction Facilities, Design Facilities, and Fleet Control Room.
Feeling a bit overwhelmed, I decided to click on "Repair Facilities," hoping it might somehow help with my shattered sanity. A transparent portal appeared beside the screen, of course every fantasy has one, and I stepped through anyway, finding myself in a vast space filled with drydocks and cranes. Clearly, this is where ships get repaired. The place is massive and industrious, though it seemed eerily quiet.
Realizing this isn't quite what I needed, I headed back to the portal and chose "Fleet Control Room." After all, a control room sounded more promising than a facility.
The Fleet Control Room is quite huge, dominated by a central map that seemed to be the heart of the place. In the center of the room is a platform with a bunch of buttons and a microphone. This set up is clearly designed for voice commands if I ever saw one.
The room is bathed in natural light from ceiling windows, making it feel surprisingly bright and welcoming. There are a few chairs scattered around and a juice dispenser in the corner. Thirsty from the confusion, I made my way over and poured myself a cold, fresh glass of orange juice. It is as refreshing as it is satisfying.
Just as I am enjoying my drink, a panel appeared right in front of me. A text label flashed on it: "Pay Orange Juice 10 Credits." I glanced to the side and saw that I had a staggering 100,000,000 credits. Quite a lot honestly.
Without a second thought, I pressed a few buttons to complete the payment. The orange juice isgood, and it deserved whatever credits it cost.
I am not about to ignore the word "credits." Clearly, this is some form of currency, and I am not keen on spending it without knowing how to earn it.
I searched the Fleet Control Room thoroughly, but nothing of significance turned up. Feeling frustrated and still clueless, I returned to the dockyard, hoping for some answers.
As if on cue, a panel began to materialize in front of me, almost like a glitch in the system. It seemed like the world is finally catching on to my presence.
The panel flickered to life with a message.
“Greetings, Grand Admiral. You have been chosen as one of the many to save this world from the threats of the Shadow. Use your wits and ingenuity to construct a fleet capable of defeating your foes and rescuing the world. Would you like to proceed with the tutorial?”
Naturally, I pressed
The details are quite extensive but vague at the same time, providing little practical help. What really got under my skin is the realization of my role in all this. Why me? Why am I chosen for this damn task? I couldn’t shake the nagging question: why not someone with actual military and war experience?
Take Spruance, for instance. Spruance is a respected naval officer known for his stuff in in the battle of Midway in World War II. And then there’s my man Nimitz, a man that won the pacific war well not him alone obviously but still. Ernest King, too—an Admiral who pretty much did alot of stuff transforming the U.S. Navy during the war.
So why am I, a person whose family has been in random workplaces for generations, chosen over these dudes? My ancestors are lighthouse keepers who had immigrated to the U.S., not military strategists. I had no training, no experience in military tactics, and yet here I am, thrust into a role that seemed absurdly out of place.
Is there some cosmic mix-up? Or did this world really think I had what it took to lead an army against a threat? I felt a mix of frustration and bewilderment. This whole scenario seemed like a setup from some over-the-top fantasy, where ordinary people are pulled into epic roles. And I am the unlikely protagonist.
With a deep sigh, I forced myself to focus. If I am really going to be stuck in this role, I needed to figure out what am i about to see and how to manage it. There is no room for doubt right now. Only action.
“Eh, I don’t know what they’re thinking, but I guess this is my new reality,” I muttered to myself, trying to keep my frustration in check. “Definitely not going to have a mental breakdown tonight.”
I followed the tutorial’s instructions and said, “Open status.”
The screen flickered and displayed my full legal name along with some personal information. But what I am really interested in is the budget.
My eyes widened as I saw the figures: 99,999,990 credits with a daily income of 5,000 credits. It seemed like a lot, but considering what I might need, it felt like a drop in the ocean. “This is just enough to keep me afloat,” I grumbled. “But they better give me more than this if I’m supposed to save the world.”
Apparently, to increase my credit income, I would need to conquer and secure different areas. “Why can’t I just ask for money from whoever controls this port? Seems like a logical place to start.”
But no, it looked like I am stuck with this system. “Alright then,” I sighed, resigned. “I guess I’ll have to make do with what I have and figure out how to make more credits.”
“Looks like fleet size also comes into play,” I noted as I reviewed my status. The screen showed zero in every category—no ships, no units, nothing. There are no apparent limits or technologies to research, which made the whole situation even more confusing.
After mentally noting all the details of my stats, I decided to check out the Design Facilities. I made my way there, arriving outside a large, imposing building. Taking a deep breath, I entered and found myself in a spacious design room.
The room is a spectacle in itself—filled with screens, holographic interfaces, and various techy gadgets. It looked like a high-tech 3D modeling lab, though it had a touch of grandeur with its elaborate equipment.
“This is definitely a glorified 3D modeller,” I said, taking in the room’s high-tech ambiance. “If I’m going to build anything, this seems like the place to do it.”
As I started designing my first ship, I figured I might as well go big and create a battleship. After all, if I’m going to save the world, I might as well have something formidable. I worked on the hull and modeled it as a fast battleship, imagining it with sleek lines and powerful armament.
When I checked the cost, my jaw dropped. “11 million credits?” I exclaimed. “Seriously? If you want me to save the world, you might want to give me a bit more financial leeway.” There is no way I could afford that right now.
I sighed and decided to put the design on hold for the moment. I made my way back to the dockyard and found a quiet spot in the hall, leaning against the wall as I pondered my situation.
“Am I really doing this?” I asked myself, feeling the weight of the situation.
“Yeah,” I answered my own question with a heavy sigh. “I guess I have to. I mean, I am pulled into this world in the blink of an eye. Even if I tried to escape, I might just end up right back here again. So, this is my life now i guess.”
I glanced around, taking in the vastness of the dockyard. “Hopefully, once this is all over, I’ll find a way to return to my old life.”