The coliseum shook with the deafening roar of thousands of voices, a chaos of battle chants, cheers, and the deep, guttural howls of creatures not meant for the mortal world. Towering stone pillars, etched with glowing runes, loomed over the battlefield like ancient gods watching from the heavens. The sky overhead was a storm of shifting colors, reds and purples bleeding together in unnatural swirls, lightning flashing intermittently between the clouds.

  Leo stumbled, the weight of heavy armor pressing down on him like a cage of steel. His breathing hitched, his body adjusting to an impossible reality.

  His fingers clenched around something unfamiliar—two sabers, their weight throwing off his balance.

  “No. No, no, no,” Leo mumble as his mind raced searching for answers.

  This isn’t right. I don’t play these kinds of games.

  The metal felt natural in his grip, but his mind rejected it outright. His hands knew what to do, shifting into a ready stance, but his brain screamed in protest.

  I don’t fight. I don’t do combat games.

  So why… why am I standing like I know exactly what to do?

  The names echoed in his head—Revenant. Shadowfang. Leo’s grip tightened. The weapons vibrated, humming with some kind of energy that almost… responded to him. His stomach turned.

  No. That’s not right.

  Weapons shouldn’t feel like that. They shouldn’t fit his hands so perfectly.

  He forced his fingers to unclench, willing himself to drop them—but he couldn’t.

  It wasn’t instinct telling him to hold them. It was something else, like something inside him refused to be denied. His stance became steady and his grip firm. Then his breath slowed.

  Why does this feel half-familiar?

  The Legendary-tier armor felt heavy on his frame, like it belonged to someone else, someone stronger, more confident—a Paladin’s armor.

  Paladin.

  That word settled in his brain, also half-familiar, but half-alien.

  And then there was Ethan “Stoneblade” Grieger, standing beside him as if this was normal. As if they were teammates. The same Ethan who, the last thing Leo remembered, had been more concerned with shoving his face into a locker than fighting by his side. But now, Ethan stood tall, his body covered in Legendary-tier Guardian armor, his sparkling SilverShield radiating raw defensive energy, his Silversword humming like a tuning fork about to be swung.

  Unlike Leo, who was still trying to piece together why the hell he was here, Ethan looked entirely at home in his gear, moving with confidence, his stance solid, prepared.

  Leo blinked.

  What is happening?

  Then he said to Ethan, “Where are we?”

  Ethan glanced at Leo as a massive boom erupted through the coliseum, followed by the sharp crackle of arcane energy. A glowing golden glyph flared to life at the center of the battlefield, expanding outward until it formed a towering floating platform above the arena floor.

  Then, with a burst of blazing violet light, the Announcer appeared.

  A figure dressed in flowing obsidian robes embroidered with silver constellations, their face half-hidden behind an ornate golden mask, arms spread wide as they absorbed the electric energy of the audience. Their smooth voice, rich, and dripping with theatrical flair as it boomed through the arena, carried by magical amplification sigils hovering high above the stadium.

  “WARRIORS, CHAMPIONS, LEGENDS—WELCOME TO THE AXIS & ALLIES TOURNAMENT!”

  The coliseum erupted in response of howls, roars, the clash of metal against metal, the rhythmic pounding of thousands of feet against stone. An entire world of creatures, humans, elves, dwarves, trolls, beastkin, vampires, demons, and more—all screaming for blood, for battle, for glory.

  The Announcer grinned behind their mask, letting the sound wash over them like a tidal wave before continuing.

  “Tonight, the greatest warriors from across the realms clash in combat, pitting their strength, strategy, and sheer willpower against some of the most fearsome creatures ever unleashed upon this world!”

  They extended a gloved hand, gesturing toward the towering golden scoreboard above the coliseum.

  “In this round, our challengers face not one, but two formidable adversaries! A Demon-ranked colossus whose wrath has toppled kingdoms, and a Superior-tier predator whose claws have torn through armies!”

  Leo’s stomach twisted.

  The golden scoreboard flashed overhead.

  DURGAZ – DEMON (600 POINTS)

  TIGS – SUPERIOR (120 POINTS)

  His brain went into puzzle-solving mode.

  600 points. That must mean… enemy health? No. That didn’t make sense. Maybe a damage threshold? Or difficulty level?

  He swallowed hard. Think.

  In exploration games, numbers usually meant danger levels—like when an area was too high-level for you.

  So was 600 the boss? Was 120 just a minion?

  He wasn’t sure. But the crowd’s reaction when the numbers appeared told him enough.

  Whatever these numbers meant, they were bad. Leo froze.

  “Yo,” he muttered under his breath. “You seeing this?”

  Ethan exhaled next to him. "Hell of a lineup." Ethan let out a low whistle, his grip tightening on his shield. “Yeah, that’s not ideal.”

  Leo turned to him, his mind still a mess of confusion. “Okay, back up—what the hell is going on? A lineup?” Ethan, I don’t even know what I’m doing here."

  Ethan gave him a look, then frowned. "Wait. You’re serious? You’re not faking it?"

  Leo swallowed hard. "Does it look like I’m faking?"

  The moment stretched between them. Then—a deafening roar shook the ground. Leo's gaze snapped up just as the massive colossus charged into the arena.

  Ethan shot him a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, we’re doing this now?”

  Leo blinked.

  Ethan sighed, shaking his head. “Bro, you really need to work on this whole ‘losing track of time and space’ thing. Did you blank out for a whole week again?”

  Leo opened his mouth to respond—

  Then snapped it shut.

  Because, suddenly, he wasn’t sure.

  His memories were hazy, like a half-remembered dream slipping through his fingers. There was school. Normal life. But that felt distant, like something from another reality. And now… now he was standing in a damn gladiator arena, in Legendary-tier Paladin armor, holding two enchanted sabers, staring down a Demon-ranked behemoth and his Superior-class werewolf sidekick.

  Nothing made sense.

  The Announcer turned, their piercing silver gaze locking onto the two combatants in the arena, Leo and Ethan.

  “And who will dare stand against these monstrous titans? Who will risk life and limb for honor, glory, and the chance to ascend as true legends?”

  They paused, allowing the tension to build. Then, with a dramatic sweep of their hand, they gestured toward Leo and Ethan.

  “Fighting on this sacred battlefield, we have two newcomers to the Grand Stage! First, an iron-willed Guardian, one whose shield stands unbroken, whose resolve is as unshakable as the mountains themselves!”

  They thrust a hand toward Ethan.

  “ETHAN STONEBLADE GRIEGER!”

  The crowd ROARED, a wave of cheers, stomping, and anticipation rolling through the stands.

  The Announcer turned, their piercing silver gaze locking onto Leo.

  For a long, unsettling moment, they simply stared at him. Then, as if reading something deeper, their voice dropped in pitch, taking on an edge of curiosity.

  "And beside him… a warrior draped in legendary armor, wielding twin blades of destiny… but does he yet understand his own power?"

  A pause.

  Then—

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “LEO THE LIBERATOR ADAMS!”

  A mixture of cheers and murmurs rippled through the coliseum, some in excitement, others in curiosity—an uncertainty, as if sensing something different about him.

  The Announcer let the noise swell for a moment before raising their arms once more.

  “The stakes? Survival. Triumph. Ascension.”

  Their voice lowered, growing deadly serious.

  “The cost? Failure. Defeat. Death.”

  “I—” Leo started, but Ethan cut him off.

  “Whatever, doesn’t matter. Right now, we need to focus.” He jerked his chin toward the monsters. “You and me against them. And we have to win. The Universe is at stake, man.”

  The golden glyph beneath them flared again, surging upward into a burst of violet energy as the Announcer’s form dissolved into the air.

  Then—

  “BEGIN!”

  The coliseum erupted, the crowd’s voices crashing down like a tidal wave, shaking the very foundation of the arena. The gates on the other side slammed open, and the monsters charged.

  Leo frowned. “The what now?”

  Ethan exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. “Look, just—try to keep up.”

  Leo stared at the sabers in his hands. Too real. The weight. The texture. The way the cool metal pressed into his palms.

  He exhaled sharply.

  Okay. Log out. Just log out.

  He blinked twice, willing the game menu to appear. Nothing.

  His pulse spiked. His instincts screamed at him to move, but his brain refused to process it.

  Ethan moved beside him, stance steady. "Leo, focus!"

  Durgaz swung first—his massive hammer carving the air like a meteorite. Leo barely managed to duck, rolling as the impact obliterated stone, sending cracks spiderwebbing across the coliseum floor. Ethan planted his SilverShield and slammed it into the ground.

  "Impact Absorption!"

  A burst of silver energy counteracted the shockwave, leaving him unfazed while Leo skidded backward, coughing through the dust.

  Okay—okay, focus. You’re a Paladin. What do Paladins do?

  Tigs lunged. Leo tried to dodge—his brain screamed to move back—but his foot planted itself forward.

  Wait, what? No—

  His arms shot up, sabers crossing just in time to catch the werewolf’s claws. The impact rattled through him, nearly knocking the weapons from his grip. He had blocked the attack. But not because he planned to.

  The weight of the sabers was all wrong. His hands adjusted too smoothly, fingers shifting into a stance he didn’t recognize but his body did. He panicked, tried to step back—but his feet held position.

  “I don’t fight like this. I don’t fight at all.”

  His breath caught in his throat. That wasn’t a fluke. That was positioning, but he hadn’t thought about moving that way. His hands tightened on the hilts.

  What the hell is happening to me?

  The hesitation cost him.

  Tigs snarled and went for another strike. This time, Leo tried to force himself to move differently—to override whatever muscle memory was taking over. But the moment he second-guessed himself—Pain exploded across his ribs.

  The claws sent him staggering back, gasping. Tigs pounced again. Leo blocked an incoming claw swipe, but every impact felt sluggish, like fighting through water. Then—he hesitated. Only for a second. But it was enough.

  Tigs exploited the opening, lunging forward with a speed Leo couldn’t match. Pain ripped across his chestplate, the force sending him staggering backward. The second attack came immediately—A clawed swipe aimed for his throat.

  But before it landed—A blast of wind exploded outward, knocking Tigs backward. Leo gasped, looking up just in time to see Ethan standing over him, his SilverAura pulsing with Aerogen energy.

  Ethan smirked. "Man, you're really off your game today."

  Leo coughed, gripping his sabers. “Yeah. No kidding.”

  The coliseum shattered. Reality warped, twisted—collapsed. Leo’s breath caught in his throat as he felt himself plunging into darkness.

  Then—

  A voice. Deep. Resonant. Ancient.

  "Leo… you are closer than you think."

  Leo jerked awake. The city lights flickered through his rain-streaked window. His room was silent—too silent. His fingers tingled. He flexed them, trying to shake off the sensation—and winced. He pulled back his sleeve. A faint bruise was forming along his forearm. Right where Tigs had clawed him. His breath hitched.

  That’s not possible.

  He thought as his gaze snapped to his VR headset, still sitting on his desk. Cold. Unused. Powered off. But the screen flickered. For half a second—just long enough for him to see a golden symbol appear. Then, it was gone. Leo swallowed hard, pulse racing.

  “What the hell just happened?”

  A shiver ran down his spine. He forced himself to take slow, even breaths, but his hands still trembled.

  “Where did I learn those moves?”

  He had fought and moved like a warrior, but he wasn’t one. He never had been. So why did his body know things his mind didn’t? He staggered to his feet, breathing ragged, making his way to the kitchen.

  “Water!” he thought. “I need some water.”

  As he drank, his eyes drifted toward the VR rig sitting on his desk. A decision settled in his chest. “I have to log in,” he thought. Compelled to play, he looked at his VR rig.

  “Well, I might as well get some XP. Who knows? Maybe I can find Lost Megalith.”

  The rain lashed against the cracked windows of Leo’s apartment, smearing the city lights into blurry streaks of neon and grime. Leo grabbed his VR rig off the table and took a few steps. Then, he sat hunched over in his dimly lit corner, the glow of his VR rig casting a cold, bluish light over his face. The ancient headset was beat up, with too many patches and wires barely held together by duct tape and hope. But tonight wasn’t about hardware. No, tonight was about the game. A game that seemed to have something hidden in it – something calling to him.

  Leo tugged the headset on, grumbling to himself as he fidgeted with the straps. “If this thing breaks down one more time…” he muttered, knowing full well he’d just scavenge another part and keep going. The latest VR build of Lost Megaliths: The Dawn of Mysteries loaded up, surrounding him in the sweeping desert sands and lush jungles of some long-lost temple complex. The graphics were surprisingly advanced for an indie title, but the real draw was how it felt. Every step, every ancient symbol he uncovered seemed to pull him in a little deeper, like it knew him somehow.

  As he advanced through the crumbling halls of the virtual temple, he noticed the air felt thick, buzzing with something that felt... alive. Strange carvings covered the walls, ancient symbols woven together into elaborate patterns that, when he squinted just right, seemed to flicker and shift. But he ignored it, focused on grinding his way up to the next level. He was only here to get XP, unlock a few new artifacts, and call it a night.

  That’s when he noticed it.

  A faint glow emanating from a shadowed alcove he was certain hadn’t been there before. It pulsed, slow and steady, like a heartbeat. Leo reached out with a gloved hand, fingertips brushing the virtual wall as it shimmered and dissolved to reveal a hidden passage. “Now this is new,” he whispered, leaning forward with wide eyes. He’d played this game long enough to know every inch of the map, every Easter egg and secret room, but this… this was something else.

  He took a step forward, the narrow passage swallowing him in darkness. The walls seemed to breathe, ancient whispers echoing through the space as he ventured deeper. Goosebumps prickled his skin despite himself. It felt oddly real, like the game was watching him. Waiting.

  He turned a corner and gasped. At the end of the corridor, in the flickering torchlight, stood a stone monolith, rising from the ground like some ancient sentinel. Its surface was covered in the same strange symbols from his dreams – symbols he recognized but couldn’t understand. His stomach dropped.

  He hadn’t told anyone about the dreams. The strange visions that visited him, flashes of temples and hieroglyphs, a voice calling his name from somewhere just beyond reach. It had all started last month, and at first, he’d chalked it up to too much gaming, maybe a few too many late-night conspiracy videos. But now… this was impossible.

  Taking a shaky breath, he approached the monolith, his eyes scanning the intricate designs carved into the stone. Just then, the game’s UI glitched out, leaving him alone in the silence of the virtual temple. There was a static hum in the air, almost like a whisper. Without thinking, he reached out, fingers grazing the surface. His hand began to burn – not like the tingling of a VR haptic glove, but real, searing heat.

  Then came the voice.

  It wasn’t a game voice-over, no pre-recorded message or spooky echo. This was a deep, resonant voice that seemed to vibrate through his entire body, laced with both calm and warning.

  “Leo.”

  His heart froze.

  “Leo… you are closer than you think.”

  He jerked his hand back, stumbling a few steps. The monolith shimmered and pulsed, symbols rearranging themselves, forming a face – or something close to one. A figure that looked both human and something far, far beyond.

  Leo’s instincts told him to quit the game, rip off the headset, and forget he’d ever seen this. But his curiosity, that itch in his brain that had kept him coming back to the game night after night, told him otherwise.

  But just as his hand reached out to touch it, a jolt of fear seized him once again.

  “What am I even doing?” Leo muttered to himself, ripping off the headset with a frustrated sigh. He sat there, blinking in the dim, bluish light of his apartment. The room felt colder, emptier. His fingers tingled strangely from the VR interaction, like the haptic feedback had somehow gone haywire.

  He shook his head, raking a hand through his dark hair. “It’s just a game, Leo. Get a grip.”

  He dropped the headset onto the cluttered table next to the mountain of energy drink cans and yesterday’s takeout containers, then got up and stretched. The game had sucked him in more deeply than usual this time, but that was nothing new. Still, as he glanced back at the headset, a part of him couldn’t shake the unease prickling at the back of his mind, even as he went to sleep.

  The next couple of days blurred together. Leo took the long route between the hospital, school, and his two part-time jobs. He thought, “This is the best way to avoid neighborhood trouble.” However, the eerie encounter with the monolith in Lost Megaliths kept clouding his thoughts like a splinter, but real life offered distractions to keep him from going back too soon.

  Leo’s first stop after school each day was the hospital. His dad lay in a bed there, tubes and wires weaving around his body in a chaotic tangle, a symphony of beeps and whirrs filling the sterile air. Some days, his dad would be awake, managing a weak smile and a cracked joke or two. Other days, he’d be too tired to do anything but stare at the ceiling, barely aware that Leo was even there.

  Today was one of the good days, and Leo pulled up a chair by his dad’s bedside, forcing a grin.

  “Leo, kiddo, you look tired. Don’t you ever sleep?” his dad asked, his voice a raspy whisper.

  Leo shrugged. “Comes with the life. Sleep when you’re dead, right?”

  His dad chuckled softly, though it quickly turned into a cough. “Ain’t that the truth. Don’t waste too much time in those books, Leo. I know you’re smart… smarter than me. But you gotta live a little, too. Life’s short.”

  Leo nodded, the usual pang in his chest tightening. Life was short – for some, much shorter than it should be.

  As he left the hospital that night, Leo couldn’t shake the feeling that he was holding his breath, waiting for something to happen. He just hoped he’d be strong enough to handle it when it did.

  Leo didn’t have many friends at school. Not that he minded, though. Friends meant attachments, and attachments meant distractions. His priority was making it through school in one piece, getting his dad through treatment, and staying out of trouble with the gangs that roamed his neighborhood.

  But trouble always seemed to find him.

  In Chemistry, he leaned over his notebook, sketching out diagrams while the teacher droned on. Just as he was starting to lose himself in the calculations, he felt something wet smack the back of his neck. He reached up, fingers touching a gooey mass – gum, fresh and sticky. A muffled laugh came from the back of the classroom.

  Leo turned around, meeting the smug faces of the school’s “elite.” The football team thought they ruled the place, and Leo was an easy target – the quiet kid with the smart mouth. He didn’t have the muscle to go toe-to-toe with them physically, but he had a weapon they lacked: a sharp wit and a whole lot of patience.

  He ignored the snickers, instead flashing the guys a grin. “Thanks for the gift, boys,” he said in a loud voice, pulling the gum from his hair and sticking it right on the desk of the team captain, Ethan. “I’ll take care of it for you.”

  That earned him a round of glares and a couple of muttered threats, but Leo was used to it. They could try to intimidate him, but they couldn’t make him cower. And as always, he’d live to see another day.

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