Yesterday, I was packing for college. Today, I’m a Chosen Hero.

There are six of us in total, all eighteen, all from Earth. Our job is to beat back the demons that cross into this world every one hundred years. They are drawn to spirit crystals, which are four magical objects that prevent the end of days. They balance the world’s mana or something, and it’s not clear how the people here know what will happen if they lose, but they do.

It all sounds like a Dungeons & Dragons campaign to me, but it feels real. We are certain this is a tangible place and not some kind of shared delusion, so even if the campaign feels like basic fantasy plotting, we’re fairly sure we can die for real. The scholars here looked at us like we were crazy when we asked about resurrecting or respawning.

I adopted the name Laszlo and was given the Paladin class. Our training begins tomorrow. I can’t decide if I should be excited or scared out of my mind.

By the Earth calendar, today should be July 26, 1991. No idea yet if this world follows the same system. I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.

With the hope that I get to go home, I’m going to journal as much of this as I can.

-The Journal of Laszlo the Paladin

***

Rush was bewildered. “How’d you do that?”

“Finally learned a new spell.”

“Well that’s great. Only took you, what, four years?”

Wayne left out that the spell came from the system rather than a spellbook or a magery instructor.

In his unexciting years in this world, he learned early on that being a Chosen Hero was not as glamorous as the stained glass motifs suggested. Being a Hero was as filled with responsibilities and demands as it was with monsters and dangers. Not getting abilities upon arrival was a disappointment, but Wayne also wasn’t sure he had the right stuff to be an actual Hero. Showing up out of sync like he did lowered people’s expectations of him to nearly nothing, and that was its own kind of freedom.

Early in his arrival, folks even called him the “Zero Hero,” a nickname he didn’t love, but he couldn’t argue that it wasn’t accurate.

Wayne offered Rush a proposal: Act as his guide and emergency backup for another full day of hunting. He could have double his day rate and the entirety of the commission they’d earn from turning in proof of their kills to the town guard–if he kept Wayne’s new magery ability in confidence.

Rush liked money. He agreed.

They finished that day of hunting and spent the entirety of the next doing the same. If Wayne had needed twenty five goblins to advance to level 2, his understanding of RPG logic suggested that the upgrade to level 3 would take fifty, then a hundred, then two hundred, and so on. Possibly.

His system didn’t display experience points or any equivalent measurement, however. If it did, it was buried beneath one of the graphic glitches, so all he could do was keep killing and hoping for progress.

He learned he could cast Repel four times in a row if he needed to, but pushing that hard made him feel faint. If he didn’t sit and rest for at least an hour after, he would faint for real. Fortunately, most of the goblins they found were hunting and gathering alone or in pairs, and the time between battles gave him an ample window for recovery.

As the sun neared setting, he killed his twenty fifth goblin and felt that phantom vibration.

A new spell from Ultima III appeared in his interface:

Missile – When you cast this spell, you can launch a fireball against your enemy.

“Oh, hell yeah.”

***

Fergus was in a private room identical to the one Wayne had been assigned for his research project. The old scholar had piles of books on every surface, including the floor, and he scribbled furiously on a piece of parchment.

Without looking up, Fergus said, “Most scholars wait a week or two before they start cutting out early.”

“I was doing field research.”

Fergus looked up with his face wrinkled by skepticism. “Come again?”

“I’m serious. My system updated when I was researching the Chosen Heroes.”

“That is quite the development,” Fergus said, agreeing. “You have Hero access now?”

Wayne set the catalog page in front of the scholar. “Unfortunately, no. Each of these games are like pretend versions of the system in this world, and it looks like I only get pieces of them. That shouldn’t work, but the system in this world makes them compatible somehow. It’s still limited, but it does give me an idea: Where else could I find items the Heroes used to own?”

What Wayne had in his research room was the totality of the Royal Library’s collection on the Chosen Heroes. It was extensive, but when Wayne checked and rechecked, he found no other catalog pages. If more sources were to be had, they would likely be in libraries and archives in other cities, especially if the Chosen Heroes spent any time there. Fergus was doubtful they could find more accurate records than the ones they already had.

“I looked at the other analyses of Chosen Hero stories,” Wayne said. “Would you agree none of them uncovered anything useful or even interesting?”

“Suppose I would.”

“So let me try something different. I’d be happy to record my findings, but I know I won’t find much else if I stay here.”

Fergus said they didn’t have budget allocated for freshman scholars to study abroad. Wayne said that was fine. He had his nest egg from the royal family, and he’d figure out a way to fund the rest himself.

“I have one additional condition,” the old scholar said. “Take my neighbor’s daughter out for a nice dinner, or at least show her your smile before you head on down to my place. She hasn’t stopped talking about you, so her mother hasn’t stopped talking to me. I’d very much like that to change.”

This was not a new conversation for the pair. Though Wayne’s body was functionally twenty-two, his mind was forty-five. The neighbor girl was quite beautiful, but she was nineteen. His niece back on Earth was a bit older than that when he died, so seeing any girl that age automatically brought to mind his niece and her cackling entourage.

Dating someone that age was a hard no for Wayne. Just thinking about it made him feel like a creepy old man.

Because he looked twenty-two, even the people who knew his isekai origins treated him like his physical age, often without realizing. In some version of reality, Wayne was closer in age to Fergus than he was to this neighbor girl, but he could never fully escape the perception that he was physically and mentally young.

“Still no,” Wayne said. “Counter proposal: I’ll flirt with her mother. Whether that strokes her ego or generates mother-daughter discord, they would stop bothering you about me.”

Fergus stroked his beard. “Only if you promise not to be too effective.”

“I’ll try to park the wagon around her feeling refreshingly flattered. Mind if we push our wine tasting back a bit? I’m a bit fixated on this right now.”

That worked for Fergus.

With the deal set, Wayne outlined the rest of his budding plan.

Preparing for the journey was step one. He had a reasonable amount of gold to spend, but he lacked the combat ability to travel alone safely. Christmas List opened the door to change on that front, but Wayne was going to do what he always did in RPGs: Spend an excessive amount of time grinding in the starter town to make the rest of the content feel easier.

About halfway through any particular game, he’d forget he overleveled and begin to believe he was actually good at playing RPGs.

He wasn’t.

Once he was adequately trained, he would retrace the route the Chosen Heroes took to protect the sacred crystals, whose existence were vital to the ongoing life in this world. A few of the people he met along the way might be old enough to remember the Heroes firsthand, so he would interview townspeople in between his days in library stacks.

If this worked, he would find more catalog pages and unlock even more abilities in the process. He tried to remember what other games were popular that year, hoping to anticipate what else Christmas List might give him, but his childhood memories of video games were in one big bucket labeled “the 90s” and not in any order. Would Dragon Warrior or Mortal Kombat be in the same catalog as Crystalis or was he way off on what he remembered about release dates?

The timing lining up that way seemed unlikely, but imagining himself with Sub-Zero fighting skills was pretty fun.

After four years of living with a broken system interface, though, he’d be okay with any new abilities, even if they sucked. Seeing the game Pipe Dreams advertised in his one catalog page reminded him that his personal golden era of video games had plenty of garbage titles. The next page he found could very well be a spread about officially licensed Sesame Street games and nothing else.

As long as he found something, anything, he’d have enough to satisfy his obligations to Fergus. Discovering a novel system ability would go pretty far to securing a comfortable living with a library career.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

If he found more games like his first two, however, he could likely build himself an entirely new life, making his money with one of his new unique skills.

But first he had to train.

And hit on a mom.

***

Grinding in video games was much easier. At a certain point, he could walk back and forth across the map and mash a generic Fight option when he heard battle music start. Barely had to look at the screen.

In this world, six days and forty six goblins and three orcs later, he felt two notifications from the system back to back.

He leveled up to three:

Hero: Wayne the Guy

Level: 3

HP: 73

STR: 13

AGI: 11

VIT: 6

LCK: 17

The single digit increase in strength told him that his Power Ring doubling his strength was a one-time effect. It doubled what he had at level 2, but the multiplier wasn’t persistent. That was unfortunate, but if he unlocked another x2 bonus to strength anytime soon, his strength would be a third to a half of what Laszlo’s strength was at level 50.

Wayne didn’t want his imagination to run too far from his present reality, though. If all of his future stat gains came from level ups, he’d be content with that as well.

The second notification was for unlocking a new Ultima III ability: Light.

The description in the system read:

Light – When you cast this spell, you can light up the dungeon for a certain amount of time.

Though the description said dungeon, he found it worked any time except under direct sunlight. He had hoped for a magic torch or a glowing orb, but instead it was like he wore a headlamp. That was a little less magical in Wayne’s mind but still handy.

The more interesting observation: He unlocked no new Crystalis abilities from grinding.

Present hypothesis: The system followed a use-based experience system of some sort. He hadn’t used any of his Power Ring bonus in combat so he received no advancements under that game. Repel and Missile were easier, cleaner, and frankly more fun, so they leveled quickly.

After a day off, he’d spend his next stint of grinding with a sword.

Today, he had another promise to keep.

***

“Wayne?” A proper adult woman stood behind the half-open door. Her face had the sharp features of a fetching beauty sculpted by experience, more defined than the softness of her daughter’s. “This is a nice surprise.”

“Sorry to come by unannounced. I was talking to Fergus and–”

“She should be back in an hour or so.”

“I came here to see you.”

She leaned into the doorframe and dropped her eyes coyly to the ground. “Why would you do that?”

“I need a dinner date for tomorrow. Are you free?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Sure you do.”

She looked him up and down. “This might have been fun.”

“Might have?”

She frowned and opened the door the rest of the way. A captain in the town guard stood there, as wide as the doorframe. Where in some cities the local guard was comically inept and equally unathletic, the town guard in the Capital were elite soldiers.

“I take it he’s not your brother.”

She shook her head.

The guard lunged, balling Wayne’s tunic into two of his brick fists. He drove forward, his powerful legs pushing Wayne into the street. The basket of cheeses Wayne carried for Fergus fell to the ground.

Wayne set his feet.

He was surprised to find that he could resist the guard who too looked surprised by the same discovery. The effort was substantial, but with some straining, Wayne untwisted the knuckles grinding into his chest. The two men, having not expected the altercation to progress in this manner, stood, locked in place, wrestling for power.

On duty guards pulled the men apart. The husband warned Wayne not to come around again and stomped back inside.

Wayne heard Fergus laughing from down the street. His big bald head caught the sunlight as he bounced around on his rooftop deck, congratulating himself for a joke well played.

***

Fergus poured Wayne a cup of wine. “You of all people should know to do your research. Would have told you if you asked.”

“Fairplay,” Wayne said, raising his glass. “Does she know what I am?”

“That you’re the Zero Hero?”

Fergus had cycled through a number of nicknames for Wayne in their time together. Some of his other favorites included:

-Broken Hero

-Earth Dirt

-Interloper

-Premature Peter

-Young Old Guy

-Do-Over Devon

“You set a departure date yet?” Fergus asked.

“This is half guesswork, but maybe two weeks. I think in a week and a half, my training will be where I want it. I’ll use the rest of that time to get packed.”

“What’s the itinerary looking like?”

Wayne pictured the route to the Water Temple in his mind. One town up the coast, over the mountains to a second town, then up another coast, stopping at the temple. The heroes covered that ground in a little over three months. Their schedule was a bit more urgent than his–saving the world and all. He had no issue taking his time.

Earth Wayne would have stayed at the Library until retirement, comfortable with the safe option. Because of that same mentality, he saw so little of what his home planet had to offer, countless wonders that he only ever experienced via postcards and Instagram photos. Instead of adventuring on Earth, he saved for a retirement he never got.

Not again. Not if he had a second chance.

“Nothing wrong with a quiet life,” Fergus said. “Simple can be just as happy as exciting.”

“I don’t disagree. I wasn’t happy though.”

“Ah, another truth. Simple can also be sad and boring.”

The two laughed.

“What else will you be doing differently?”

“You’d make fun of me.”

“Only in friendship,” Fergus said with a grin.

“I wasn’t great with relationships,” Wayne said. “I don’t need to plow every field or anything like that, but I’d like to be better at reading signals this time around.”

“Signals?”

“Have you ever looked back on an interaction and realized you missed an outrageously obvious offer?”

Fergus hung his head. “Belinda Stoneheart.” He exhaled slowly. “I walked her home after a night out. Finals wrapped that day, so we celebrated.”

“How bad?”

The scholar frowned. “We get to her door, and she says, ‘I was really tempted to kiss you back at the tavern.’ I told her that was interesting and left. It didn’t occur to me that she wanted me to kiss her right then. Took ten years for me to realize that.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I sat bolt upright in the middle of the night. Hurt my back doing it.”

Wayne felt his own back straightening as he braced himself to share one of his stories. “We slept in the same bed. Said she was just feeling lonely.”

“Oh no, no, no,” Fergus shook his head as if wishing what he heard wasn’t true.

“It’s true. My dumb ass hopped in bed and went to sleep. Made sure there was a buffer of space between us and everything.”

“I used to think gods reincarnated souls as a blessing.”

“Okay?” Wayne finished his wine.

“Turns out it’s actually pity.”

Wayne couldn’t argue.

“Well, I know you aren’t leaving for a bit yet, but I got you a going away present,” Fergus said. “Giving it to you now would make it more useful I think.”

The scholar left the room and returned with a single Christmas catalog page.

“On a lark, I checked our loose documents pool. If a book loses a page or a piece of information is orphaned, we save it. This might be the first time it was useful.”

Wayne held pages 33 and 34, front and back of a single piece of paper. This page wasn’t damaged by ink, but it was tattered and had the softness of a document bent and flattened again over and over and over. That wear rubbed away some of the ink for whole sections, but most of it was readable.

On page 33, the catalog promoted F-15 Strike Eagle II, Railroad Tycoon, Silent Service II and the Micro Prose Land/Sea/Air Trilogy, which included Sid Meier’s Pirates!. He didn’t recognize the other games, but he was aware of a trailblazer like Meier.

All of the war simulator games were scratched out with pen, making them unselectable. No fighter plane or submarine abilities for Wayne, it seemed. Leaving Pirates! And Railroad Tycoon as circleable options.

On page 34, only two games were legible: Spellcasting 101: Sorcerers Get All the Girls and Lightspeed. Spellcasting 101 looked like a point and click game in the Leisure Suit Larry paradigm–dorky main character gets unreasonably lucky with the ladies. Lightspeed was a space flying simulator of some kind.

Failing to contain his excitement–he shook and found himself short of breath–Wayne asked if Fergus had an ink and quill handy. That was an offensive question to pose to a scholar, he learned immediately.

He circled the Land/Sea/Air Trilogy and felt the phantom vibration. He did the same with Railroad Tycoon, thinking he might as well take every game and upgrade he found even if it didn’t look useful. RPG players had a penchant for becoming packrats in that way, approaching everything with the “if it’s not bolted down” mentality just to be safe they didn’t miss anything.

When Wayne circled Spellcasting 101, the phantom vibration returned but it was short and abrupt. Half as long as the previous notifications he felt. Checking Christmas List, Pirates! and Railroad Tycoon were listed, but not Spellcasting 101. He circled again. Same feedback with no menu changes.

“You okay?” Fergus asked.

“There’s a limit on how many games I can select. Maybe it’s only so many per page, or perhaps there’s a cap per level?” He really hoped it was the latter. He didn’t expect a game with two scantily clad coeds to be that useful, but a game about magic would definitely be more useful than Railroad Tycoon.

He tried to explain the layers of his disappointment and frustration to Fergus, but the scholar lacked the Earth context to unwrap how soulshattering buying a bad game felt.

“Short version: I messed up, but I’m not sure how bad yet.”