"Damn it. Not again."
Adam let out a long sigh as he peeled off his headset, letting it rest on the desk beside him. His body slumped into the cushions of his gaming chair, the defeat still pulsing in his mind like an echo that refused to fade.
"I lost again."
The screen still glowed faintly in front of him, his in-game character standing motionless in the aftermath of yet another failure.
A towering digital wasteland loomed around him—a crumbled fortress, shattered weapons, and the ever-smirking face of the demon lord who had bested him again.
The quest to vanquish evil felt more like an endless loop, a treadmill he couldn't seem to step off.
His hand dragged lazily across the mousepad, but the energy to keep going had slipped away with that last respawn.
"Who even cares about defeating the demon lord anymore? Seriously."
He stared at the screen, lips twitching into a half-smile.
"Can't we just skip to the romance arc already? I swear, I'd trade all these epic boss fights just to unlock more harem events."
His finger hovered over a dialogue option in the game.
"I need more waifus, man. That's where the real endgame is."
Adam Morningwood, twenty years old, had long since outgrown the thrill of competitive ranks and crowded leaderboards.
Though known across the gaming scene as a top-tier MOBA player, it was never passion that fueled his rise.
The game was just a paycheck, a routine grind he could do with half his mind elsewhere. The money was good. The fame even better. But it wasn't what got his heart racing.
What truly stirred something inside him were the kinds of games where he could become someone else entirely—those immersive worlds where he got to be the lone hero in shining armor or a dangerous rogue with a sharp grin, charm turned up high, and an endless stream of beautiful women drawn to his orbit.
That was his guilty pleasure. His escape. That was the real game.
He rose slowly, his chair creaking as he pushed it back, the only light in the room coming from the soft glow of his monitor.
The screen cast faint reflections across the floor, flickering shapes from a paused character menu.
He rubbed at his neck, stretched, then walked out, the faint sound of clicking keys and low music fading behind him.
Tall, lean, with skin the color of pale moonlight and hair and eyes that matched the night—Adam always drew attention.
Back in high school, he couldn't walk the halls without a few glances, a couple of stares that lingered a little too long.
He hadn't changed much since then. His sharp gaze still carried that same quiet pull, the kind that hinted at something deeper, something just a little out of reach.
He could still turn heads when he wanted to. But now?
Now, regular girls didn't hold his interest anymore.
They were too... predictable. Too real.
Adam wandered out of the living room, steps unhurried, gaze distant.
He opened the fridge, the faint hum rising like a sigh. A cold bottle waited on the shelf. He grabbed it, twisted the cap, and drank deep. The chill ran down his throat, sharp and clear.
Then came a voice—gentle, almost a breath—woven through the silence like silk threading through the air.
"Hear me, soul of a far-off realm. Let my voice find you, and may my call reach across the veils."
The bottle slipped slightly in his grip. He turned his head slowly. The room remained just as it was—empty, unchanged.
"...The hell was that?"
"The lands of Aphrodisia are fading..."
The voice whispered again, softer but closer somehow.
"I am Gwendolyn, daughter of the Eldran line. I've opened the path—step through it, and let fate shape the rest."
His brow furrowed. The silence pressed in again, thicker now.
"Alright, yeah. Either this water's cursed or I just unlocked DLC voice-acting for my kitchen."
A soft hum stirred the air as a red magic circle bloomed beneath Adam's feet.
Lines of light spun in intricate patterns, like threads being drawn by invisible hands. The glow pulsed faintly, warming the soles of his feet through the apartment floor.
The world around him began to blur at the edges. The couch, the scattered books, the walls—all of it faded like breath against cold glass.
A hush followed, quiet and steady, as the familiar surroundings dissolved into a smooth, endless dark. There was no wind. No floor. No ceiling. Just stillness.
His fingers loosened, and the water bottle slipped from his hand, tumbling into the void below. It fell without a sound.
"A pop-up notification or literally any kind of heads-up would've been nice before teleporting me into the void."
Darkness wrapped around Adam like a thick blanket, stretching on without end. It was quiet at first—so quiet it felt like the world had stopped breathing.
He shut his eyes, as if that might help make sense of it. But the silence didn't last.
Whispers began to rise around him, soft at first, like the rustle of dry leaves brushing against concrete. Then they grew, folding over one another, indistinct voices tangled in threads of strange languages and hushed urgency.
He opened his eyes.
The familiar ceiling of his apartment was gone. So were the walls. The worn couch. The blinking light of the fridge. All of it—gone.
What lay before him was something else entirely.
A towering chamber stretched into shadows. The edges were lost in black, but the center flickered with dull orange glow.
Candles.
Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds. Each flame danced and bent, casting long shadows that clung to the stone floor like they didn't want to let go.
Figures stood in a circle, cloaked in thick, dark robes. Their faces were hidden, hoods drawn low. None of them moved. Not a single one.
"What is this, some kind of budget Hogwarts?"
No one answered. The murmurs had stopped.
"Well, this is cozy. Ten out of ten for the creepy candlelit cult vibe. Minus five for not offering snacks."
The glow of the red magic circle dulled, its shimmer bleeding into the cracks of the ancient stone floor until it disappeared like a dream slipping from memory.
The air, still charged with leftover energy, hummed quietly, as if the space itself was exhaling.
One of the hooded figures standing before Adam lifted her head and gently pulled back her hood.
A cascade of soft blonde hair spilled over her shoulders, catching what little light remained. Her eyes, a calm blue, met his with the kind of peaceful confidence found in lullabies and old stories. She smiled, warm and slow, like the first sunrise after a storm.
"The summoning worked... The savior of Aphrodisia is here."
Adam blinked. Once. Twice. His gaze drifted around the space—stone, shadows, and a bunch of strangers in coordinated fashion choices.
One by one, the others followed, pulling back their hoods. Every face was different, every smile slightly varied—hopeful, awed, a little starstruck. All women. All staring at him like he was the answer to a very long prayer.
"Okay, uh... either I fell into an anime or I took a wrong turn into some freaky Renaissance cosplay cult. What the hell is this place?"
The blonde girl rose, her expression unreadable, as if carrying the weight of a secret she'd rehearsed too many times but never spoken aloud.
The light caught in her hair, lending it a soft shimmer, almost like the sun had brushed it with gold. She looked straight at Adam, not with awe or fear, but with quiet resolve.
"Whenever the world teeters on the edge of despair, those who carry the bloodline of the last great hero are given the power to reach across worlds and call forth another. That time has come again. I'm Gwendolyn Eldran, and my blood traces back to the last hero who saved us. You've been brought to Aphrodisia, hero."
Adam blinked once. Then twice. His brow twitched.
"So let me get this straight. I've been yanked outta my life, dragged across space or time or whatever cosmic nonsense this is, to fight some hellspawn overlord or apocalyptic disaster, right?"
Gwendolyn tilted her head slightly, her voice calm like a whisper floating over still water.
"The demon lord was vanquished long ago. Peace has held since then, and there's been no sign of any new threat on the horizon."
Adam squinted at her, his tone dry.
"Cool, cool. So I got Isekai'd… for what, exactly? To boost tourism? Be your emotional support human?"
Gwendolyn raised her arms in a slow, graceful arc, motioning to the women gathered behind her.
The flickering light of nearby sconces danced over polished armor and flowing robes. Silence followed, deep and expectant.
"Summoning a hero from another world… even in times of peace… it was the only path left to us. A curse swept across our world ten years ago. Took every man, regardless of race or realm. Gone, like a breath in winter. We waited until I reached nineteen… only then was the ritual possible."
Adam's gaze drifted across the chamber. Shadows clung to the corners of the room, but the figures within were clear—stern faces beneath helmets, watchful eyes under priestly hoods.
All of them women.
"Wait. So you actually pulled me out of my life, out of my world, to play the role of... what? Magical population fixer?"
"Exactly. The Hero Summoning chose you. Without a man, our bloodlines end. Our nations fall. You are not here to fight a war... you're here to keep our world alive."