My name is Ren. And the single worst disaster of my life… started in a chemistry laboratory. Which, honestly? Should've been my first red flag. Nothing good has ever started in a chemistry laboratory. Not once. Not in the entire history of human civilization. But did I know that at the time? No. Because I was running on zero sleep, half a brain cell, and the delusion that my lab partner was a functioning human being. Spoiler: he was not.
It began with an explosion. A loud one. "POOOFFFFF!!!" The sound ripped through the quiet lab like a gunshot at a library. A cloud of thick black smoke erupted from the beaker sitting on the table between us — violently, dramatically, and with absolutely no regard for the twenty-four hours of work it had just destroyed. For a few seconds, I couldn't see anything. The entire table vanished behind the smoke. Glass rattled. Something rolled off the counter and shattered on the floor. The sharp smell of burnt chemicals punched me directly in the sinuses.
Slowly… very slowly… the smoke began to clear. I blinked. Then I froze. Standing across from me was my lab partner. Law. Except his entire face was completely black. Covered in soot. Head to chin. His hair looked like a lightning bolt had personally victimized it. His eyebrows were somewhere under the ash — probably praying for rescue. He blinked once. Then twice. Then — and I cannot stress how much I did not need this — he gave me a sheepish little smile. "Bro…" he said slowly. "I can explain." No he couldn't.
I stared at him. Then I looked down at the table. The beaker. Our experiment. The solution that had taken us twenty-four hours to prepare… was now bubbling like a toxic witch's cauldron auditioning for a horror movie. For a moment, my brain simply refused to participate. It looked at the situation, said "absolutely not," and clocked out. Then reality kicked in.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" I shouted. Law immediately threw both hands up like a criminal who'd been caught mid-heist. "Bro! I'm sorry! I swear I followed the manual!" I grabbed the measuring pipette from the table and pointed it at him like a weapon. Because at that moment? It basically was one. "You added hydrogen peroxide!" Law blinked. "…Yes?" "The manual said two milliliters of water!" Law slowly looked down at the destroyed experiment. Then back at me. Then back at the beaker. You could practically hear the single gear in his brain grinding to a halt. "Oh."
I felt my entire soul detach from my body. "It was two milliliters of H2O," I said, very slowly, the way you'd explain gravity to a golden retriever. "Not two milliliters of H2O2. Those are different things, Law. One is water. The other is what you use to bleach hair." Law scratched the back of his head. "Well…" he said. "At least we know the reaction works?" I stared at him. I stared at him for so long that I'm pretty sure I briefly achieved enlightenment and then immediately lost it.
We had a deadline. Tomorrow morning. This experiment had taken us a full day to prepare. Twenty-four hours of careful measurements. Twenty-four hours of calibrated solutions. Twenty-four hours of zero sleep. Gone. Evaporated. Along with my will to live.
Law wiped his face with his sleeve. Unfortunately, that only made things worse. Now the soot was smeared across his cheek like budget war paint. He looked like a frat boy who'd lost a fight with a chimney. "Also…" Law added carefully, "can you maybe be concerned about my face first?"
I opened one eye. Then the other. Then I stepped closer, grabbed his chin, and turned his face toward the lab light. I studied the damage for a few seconds with the clinical detachment of a man who had already accepted death. Then I sighed. "What the hell." Law looked hopeful. "I'm fine?" "You look like the discount version of Einstein." Law gasped. "That's rude!" "Go wash your face. Running water. Mild soap. Fifteen minutes. You'll survive. Unfortunately." Law clutched his chest dramatically. "You're so cold, Renren." But he still dragged himself toward the washroom. Leaving me alone. With the disaster. I leaned both hands on the table and stared at the chemical soup formerly known as our experiment. "…I'm going to fail this class."
Law and I were third-year engineering students. Top university. Zero sleep. An alarming number of deadlines. And one shared personality trait — we were both, apparently, allergic to making good life decisions. We'd met during freshman orientation a couple years back. Actually, I'd met two people that day. Law. And Troy. Troy was a Fine Arts student who painted strange abstract portraits at three in the morning and spoke about color theory the way normal people spoke about breakfast. Law was chaos. Not organized chaos. Not charming chaos. Just chaos. The kind of chaos that adds hydrogen peroxide to a water-based solution and then says "at least we know the reaction works." I still had no idea how the three of us became friends. It was one of those cosmic accidents — like a car crash, except nobody died and we all got lunch together afterward.
Strangely enough, we had also become somewhat popular among the student body. Not because we were the smartest. Not because we were the most talented. But because — and I say this with maximum irritation — apparently, we were good looking. Which. Great. Really helpful right now. Let me just charm this burnt beaker into un-exploding.
Far, far away from my university and its collection of caffeinated disasters, in a completely different world, inside the mighty Kingdom of Bellestia, a soldier sprinted through the massive doors of the royal throne room. His armor clanged with every step like a one-man percussion section. "YOUR HIGHNESS!" He dropped to one knee before the throne. "The green ogres are attacking the western farms again!"
The king sighed. Not a small sigh. A deep, heavy, from-the-bottom-of-his-royal-soul sigh. The kind of sigh a man produces when he has heard the exact same problem for the hundredth time and briefly considers abdicating. "Call my son." The soldier bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty. Send Lucas."
Prince Lucas arrived at the western farms shortly after. He didn't bring an army. Only four knights. That was all he ever needed. That was also all he ever wanted, because Lucas had the patience for exactly four people at any given time, and even that was generous. The ogres were already tearing through the crops when they arrived. Huge creatures. Green skin. Massive arms. Faces ugly enough to scar a child for life and then charge therapy fees. To the farmers, they were terrifying monsters. To Lucas, they were Tuesday.
One of the ogres roared and charged directly at him. Its massive club swung through the air. Lucas sighed. Then moved. His sword flashed once. A clean strike. The ogre collapsed like a sack of very ugly potatoes. Another charged. Lucas stepped forward. Two quick strikes. Another one down. Within minutes, the fight was over. It was less of a battle and more of an inconvenience.
The farmers stared in awe. "Prince Lucas! Thank you for saving us!" Lucas wiped his sword clean with the casual energy of a man who had just swatted a fly. "Pheww…" He sheathed the blade. "It would be insulting to my abilities if I even broke a sweat fighting those things." One of the knights behind him quietly sighed.
That was Prince Lucas. Tall. Nearly six feet. Broad shoulders. Lean, muscular build. Sharp jawline. The kind of face that made poets weep and portrait painters nervous. And a personality that could curdle milk. Lucas was famous throughout the kingdom for being arrogant, short-tempered, ruthless, and socially competent in the same way a sword was socially competent — effective, sharp, and guaranteed to make people uncomfortable. But despite all of that, the king believed his son would one day become a great ruler. Optimism, apparently, ran in the royal bloodline.
Not long after the ogre situation was resolved, Prince Lucas and his knights returned to the capital. The Kingdom of Bellestia stood proudly at the center of a vast valley, surrounded by tall stone walls that had guarded its people for generations. Massive towers reached toward the sky. Golden banners snapped in the wind. As Lucas rode through the palace gates, servants and guards immediately bowed. "Welcome back, Your Highness." Lucas barely glanced at them. He dismounted, handed the reins to a servant without a word, and headed inside. "Where is my father?" "The King awaits you in the throne room, Your Highness." Lucas nodded. Then walked toward the palace like a man who owned the place. Which, technically, he would. Eventually.
The throne room of Bellestia was enormous. Tall marble pillars stretched toward the ceiling. Massive stained-glass windows painted the hall in colored light. At the far end of the chamber sat the royal throne. King Aurelius sat there with the calm dignity of a man who had perfected the art of looking regal while being deeply tired. Beside him sat Queen Celia. And standing near them both was the kingdom's high mage, Old Arthur.
Lucas stopped in front of the throne. "Father," he said. "You called for me." Before the king could even open his mouth, the queen suddenly clapped her hands together. "Yohohoho! My sweet Lulu is here!" Lucas's face turned red so fast you'd think someone had cast a fire spell on his dignity. "Mother. Please stop calling me that." Queen Celia covered her grin with a decorative fan and giggled. She was known throughout Bellestia as the most beautiful woman in the entire kingdom. Long silver hair. Bright, clever eyes. And the personality of someone who had realized, long ago, that the funniest thing in the world was watching her son suffer.
King Aurelius cleared his throat. "Celia. Please." The queen simply smiled. Innocently. The way a cat smiles before knocking your glass off the table. Lucas turned back to the king with the expression of a man clinging to his last shred of patience. "So why was I summoned?" The king nodded toward the old mage. "Arthur has something important to share."
Old Arthur stepped forward slowly. His long black robes dragged across the stone floor. His eyes were ancient, wise, and currently filled with the kind of concern that made everyone in the room straighten up. "The Fates have spoken." The chamber went dead silent. Even Lucas stopped looking annoyed for half a second. "The Fates warn us," Arthur continued, "of the rise of the Demon Lord in the southern lands." Heavy silence filled the room. "If the Demon Lord fully awakens, darkness will consume the continent. And eventually… the entire world."
Lucas frowned. "Then we defeat him." Simple. Clean. Arrogant. Classic Lucas. Arthur shook his head gently. "The prophecy says otherwise." Lucas crossed his arms. "Meaning?" Arthur raised his staff. "The prophecy states that only a hero from another world can defeat the Demon Lord."
Lucas stared at him for a long moment. The silence was so thick you could've stabbed it with a sword. "You're telling me," Lucas said flatly, "I cannot defeat him myself?" Arthur bowed his head slightly. "You are extraordinarily powerful, Your Highness. But the words of the Fates cannot be changed." Lucas's jaw tightened. He looked like a man who had just been told the sun didn't revolve around him and was taking it personally.
"So what do you need me for, then?" Arthur smiled faintly. "You will serve as the hero's anchor." Lucas raised one eyebrow. "My what?" "The hero must be summoned from another world. But to stabilize the connection between dimensions, we require the blood of a royal with powerful mana." Lucas looked deeply unimpressed. "And that royal would be me." "Yes."
A beat. Then a slow smirk crept across Lucas's face. "So technically… if the hero is connected to my blood… he would be under my authority." Arthur hesitated. "If… one chooses to interpret it that way." Lucas shrugged. "Fine. When does this summoning happen?" Arthur looked toward the window. The sky outside was darkening. "Tonight. Under the full moon."
Queen Celia suddenly laughed softly behind her fan. "Yohohoho…" Lucas turned toward her, immediately suspicious. "Mother. Why are you smiling like that?" "Oh, nothing." She waved her fan. "I'm just ever so curious to see the hero you bring home." She paused. "I do hope he's handsome." Lucas's eye twitched. "That is completely irrelevant." "Of course it is, dear."
Meanwhile, back in the land of burnt chemicals and shattered dreams, Law had returned from the washroom with his face finally clean. Well. Mostly clean. There was still a faint grey smudge near his ear that made him look like he'd been lightly haunted. "Bro," he said nervously. "What are we going to do now?" Ren was still staring at the ruined experiment with the hollow gaze of a man watching his GPA dissolve in real time. "We redo it." Law blinked. "…Tonight?" "We pull another all-nighter."
Law shifted uncomfortably. "About that…" Ren slowly turned toward him. The way a security camera turns. Law laughed nervously. "You know I'm grounded, right? My dad will literally end me if I get home late again." Ren's left eye twitched. "I am going to kill you." Law shrugged helplessly. "Technically it's not my fault I'm grounded—" "You are grounded because you are stupid. Who forgets to lock their door while having sex?" Law blinked. "That's the part that bothers you? The lock?"
Then suddenly, his expression shifted. A dangerous grin appeared. The kind of grin that preceded bad decisions. "Renren…" He casually draped his arm over Ren's shoulders. "Aren't you a little cuter today?" Ren shoved him off immediately. "Step. Back." Law leaned in anyway, completely unbothered. "You can finish this experiment alone, right? You're so smart. The smartest person I know. Have I mentioned that recently?" Ren sighed. The sigh of a man who had accepted his fate. "…Do I even have a choice?" Law clapped his hands happily. "Great!" "You prepare everything first," Ren said, pointing at the equipment. "I'm taking a ten-minute nap in the lounge. If I wake up and nothing is ready, I will haunt you."
Hours later. The laboratory was completely silent. Ren stood alone beside the experiment table. The building was practically empty. Being part of the university's science guild had exactly one perk — late-night lab access. Unfortunately, it also meant he was currently pulling his second consecutive all-nighter, which he was fairly sure violated some kind of Geneva Convention.
Ren lit the burner. The small blue flame flickered quietly. He carefully poured the chemical solution into the beaker. He knew drinking coffee while running experiments was technically against safety regulations. But at this point, the coffee was the only thing standing between him and clinical death. So he took a sip anyway. Rules were for people who'd slept.
While waiting for the solution to heat, Ren glanced toward the window. Something caught his eye. A small glass bottle sat on the window ledge. He frowned. "That wasn't there before." He picked it up. Inside the bottle, a strange liquid shimmered softly. Tiny sparkles floated inside like miniature stars suspended in water. Ren tilted the bottle. The sparkles drifted with the liquid. "Huh. That's… weird." For a moment, he just stared at it. The liquid almost looked… magical. Ren snorted. "Okay. I definitely need sleep." He placed the bottle beside his coffee mug and went back to his experiment.
Then suddenly, the floor trembled. Ren blinked. "What the—" The shaking got stronger. Beakers rattled across the table. "An earthquake? Seriously? Tonight?! Of all the nights in the entire calendar year—" Ren scrambled to turn off the burner. The shaking became violent. The beaker tipped over. Chemical solution spilled everywhere. His coffee cup fell. The mysterious glass bottle crashed to the ground and shattered instantly.
Ren instinctively reached down to catch it. The broken glass sliced across his fingers. "OW!" Blood dripped onto the floor and mixed with the strange glowing liquid. And then something happened that definitely should not have been possible in a chemistry lab. The mixture began to glow. Bright. Then brighter. Ren stared at it. "…Excuse me?" The glowing liquid started swirling across the floor like it was alive — like it had plans. Then, because apparently the universe had decided tonight was Ren's personal nightmare, a dark portal opened above him.
Ren's jaw dropped. "SERIOUSLY?! First the explosion. Then the all-nighter. Then the earthquake. And now a BLACK HOLE?!" He stumbled backward. "I didn't sign up for this! I'm an engineering student!" But before he could finish his very reasonable complaint, the portal pulled him upward. And everything went dark.
At that exact same moment, in the Kingdom of Bellestia, the royal courtyard was bathed in the silver glow of the full moon. A massive magic circle had been drawn into the stone floor, intricate symbols surrounding it like a web of ancient, glowing text. Old Arthur stood at the center, his long robes swaying in the night wind. Around the circle stood the king, the queen, Prince Lucas, and his four knights. The air felt heavy and electric — the kind of tension that made the hair on your arms stand up and your instincts whisper that something was about to happen and you could not stop it.
Arthur raised his staff. "The preparations are complete." The king nodded. "Then begin." Arthur stepped into the circle as moonlight poured down from above. One by one, the symbols began to glow. Soft white light spread across the formation. Arthur began to chant, his voice echoing through the courtyard — ancient, resonant, and heavy with power. "O thy light that swallows the darkness… make thy path among the worlds… and summon thee…" The symbols blazed brighter. The ground trembled. "I call thee… hero of light… who shall purge the darkness… who shall strike down the Demon Lord…" The magic circle flared and a pillar of white light shot toward the sky.
Lucas watched with his arms crossed and his enthusiasm at an all-time low. "So this is the hero we're summoning," he muttered. "If he's weak, I'm sending him back." Queen Celia chuckled beside him. "Oh Lucas, don't be rude. I'm sure he'll be lovely." Lucas scowled. "I don't need lovely. I need strong."
"PRINCE LUCAS!" Arthur called. Lucas stepped forward. "It is time." Lucas sighed, then drew the small ceremonial knife from his belt and without hesitation sliced the tip of his finger. A single drop of blood formed. Arthur pointed toward the center of the magic circle. "Let the blood of royalty become the anchor between worlds." Lucas flicked his finger. The droplet fell. The moment it touched the glowing symbols, everything changed.
The white light turned crimson. A violent surge of energy exploded from the circle. Wind roared through the courtyard. The sky above them twisted like reality itself had been torn open and was not happy about it. A dark portal appeared in the air. Arthur's voice rose above the chaos. "O thy blood be the chain that binds two worlds! O thy blood be the anchor that guides the chosen one! MAGNUS LUMINOS!" The portal exploded with light.
Meanwhile, Ren was no longer in the laboratory. He was floating. Or falling. Or spinning. Honestly, it was hard to tell — all three felt equally terrible. Darkness surrounded him. Endless, absolute darkness. No floor, no gravity, no anything. "What is happening…" He spun slowly in the void. His stomach did things stomachs should never do. "This has to be a dream… this is a stress hallucination… I'm going to wake up face-down on my lab table with coffee in my hair and a very stern email from my professor…" But before he could finish convincing himself, a powerful force grabbed him and yanked him downward. The darkness shattered. Light exploded. And Ren fell.
Back in Bellestia, the magic circle flared one final time. The portal twisted, warped, and spat something out. A human figure dropped from the sky and crashed into the center of the glowing circle. Everyone gasped. The portal snapped shut. The courtyard fell silent. For several long seconds, no one moved. Then Arthur stepped forward carefully. "The summoning…" he whispered. "…was successful."
The figure lying in the center of the circle slowly became visible under the moonlight. A young man wearing strange white clothing — a long coat, a dark blue tie loosened and crooked, messy black hair that looked like it had been through at least two natural disasters. He looked small compared to the warriors of Bellestia, but undeniably, irritatingly handsome. Queen Celia's eyes lit up. "Oh my. He's beautiful!" Lucas raised one eyebrow. "That's the hero?"
The boy suddenly stirred. His fingers twitched. Then his eyes slowly opened. Everything was blurry. Ren groaned. "Ugh…" His head was pounding. His body felt like it had been put through a washing machine on the spin cycle. The last things he remembered — the lab, the earthquake, the glowing liquid, the portal, and then the deeply unhelpful realization that physics had apparently stopped applying to him.
Ren slowly sat up. His vision cleared. And that's when he realized something was extremely wrong. He was not in the lab. He was sitting in the middle of a glowing circle carved into stone. Dozens of strangers surrounded him — people in armor, royal clothing, strange robes. A king on a throne. A queen with a fan. And standing directly in front of him, towering, broad-shouldered, sharp-eyed, and radiating the energy of a man who had never been told no in his entire life, was the most annoyingly handsome person Ren had ever seen.
Ren blinked. His brain, still running on fumes and betrayal, attempted to process the situation. It failed. He tried again. Still nothing. So he did the only thing he could. He opened his mouth. "…Who are you people?"
The courtyard erupted. "The hero has awakened!" "The summoning worked!" Queen Celia clapped joyfully. "Oh, wonderful!" Lucas, however, said nothing. He simply stared at Ren. His sharp eyes scanned the boy from head to toe. Small frame. Soft features. A bewildered expression that screamed I have no idea where I am and I would very much like to leave. Lucas frowned. "That's the hero?"
Ren looked around again, then down at himself. Still wearing his lab coat. Still holding a shard of broken glass from the mysterious bottle and still smelling faintly of burnt chemicals and regret. He looked back up at the crowd of armored strangers, the glowing magic circle, the moonlit castle, and the absurdly tall prince glaring at him like he was the disappointment. Ren blinked once, then twice. "…Okay. I think I'm hallucinating." A pause. "And if I'm not hallucinating—" He looked directly at Lucas. "—then someone owes me an explanation. And a coffee."