Chapter 2:

An Otherworldly Stage (2)

The World Jester


“Welcome, dear hero!”

A grandiose hall appeared as a booming voice stole my attention. Pillars of gray stretched from the floor to the ceiling, making the place seem bigger than it actually was. Some kind of light hung halfway up each pillar, illuminating the windowless space.

I found myself on a little wooden platform in the center of the room; knights in iron surrounded the miniature stage. Those closest to me were kneeling, staring at the ground. The ones further back stood at attention, holding their weapons somewhere in a mix between a salute and a ready position. The door at the far end was heavily guarded, and an out-of-place red carpet lined the path. It reminded me more of a spruced oubliette in some castle basement to hold prisoners.

In front of them all, one step away from the platform, was the man who welcomed me, eyes closed for some reason. Honestly, his entire vibe could best be summed up as ‘regal yet lacking’. His white with gold trim military uniform was accented by a red cape and the slight bulge of his belly. His short silver hair glistened under the light, further accentuating his bald spots. Unlike the kneeling knights, he gaudily spread his arms wide, flashing a benevolently greedy smile.

“I am Dolon Engres, the king of this fine land. We have summoned you to this world because– huh?” He slowly opened his eyes wide, staring.

Next, he blinked, rubbing his eyes.

Then, he tilted his head to the side. I could see the question mark sticking out.

And finally…

“Are they not…” He whipped around in a fervor. “WHO IS THE MAGE CHARGE OF THE HERO SUMMONING RITE?” His words spewed forth a harsh gust whipping through the enclosed hall. It seemed like my spell worked, so I took the opportunity to tiptoe over to the wall while they were distracted.

One of the standing knights rushed over in a panic, dropping to one knee. “I greet Du– Your Majesty! I am responsible for the rite. Is there anything that displeases you?” So that man was the king, or at least the one in power. Meanwhile, I continued to inch myself towards the door, making sure not to touch anyone.

“Displeases me? Displeases ME?!? IS THERE NOTHING GOING ON IN THAT HEAD OR YOURS???” A fireball the size of a basketball appeared in the king(?)’s hand, which he promptly slammed down right next to the knight, gouging out a section of the stone ground. “WHERE THE HELL IS THE HERO?!?”

Woah woah woah. What was that?!? I wasn’t surprised that he created a fireball; there were many combat spellcasters that could do so. What surprised me was that it appeared without some sort of chant.

A person’s spellpower accumulated near the gut, similar to how food gets digested in the stomach. Whenever someone casts a spell, the spellpower would, um… regurgitate out of its container… spilling into the rest of the body to enact some phenomena. However, that initial reaction required some trigger or catalyst to get started. Spellpower movement was part of the autonomic nervous system, making it near impossible to control consciously. Therefore, spellcasters learned certain methods of moving their mouths to make their spellpower respond in a consistent fashion.

The king(?) essentially made the impossible possible. Without thinking, I tried to sense his spellpower–

What the heck is that monster??? His spellpower flowed through clearly defined veins spanning his entire body, nothing like the chaotic mess within me. Wait, all of the knights had veins! I’d never heard of something like this.

Well, that settles it. I’m in another world.

Why did it have to be the worst case scenario?

“I-I am sorry Duke– Your Majesty. T-the mana clearly flowed into the magic circle and disappeared into the tornado, but–” the knight – or mage, was it? – stammered out. Was mana and mage this world’s equivalent of spellpower and spellcasters? It sounded like a poorly made video game.

Actually, why hadn’t the spellcas – sorry, mages – detected me yet? With their highly optimized pathways, they should be able to better utilize spellpow – err, mana. Maybe they had no need for technique? Then… was that fireball made with raw mana?!? What kind of insane place was this?!?

“I’m not blind, you IMBECILE! I’m ASKING you, WHY wasn’t the hero SUMMONED?!?” The king(?)’s face turned a bright red. He should take a second to calm down and breathe.

“I-I am not sure as to the cause of the spell failure…” the mage mumbled at the end, using long-winded, roundabout turns of phrase.

“AAAAARRRRGGHHHH!!!!!!” The king(?) screamed, ripping more hair out of his balding head. “Search the room for any traces of mana indicating what went wrong! I want a report before the sun sets today! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

““““YES SIR!”””” The knights and mages chorused, bringing either their foot, hand, or weapon down on the ground in a loud bang.

Well, that was a problem. I was pretty confident they wouldn’t be able to find me with my (fake) creation magic, but I couldn’t be sure. After all, my university professors always yelled, “Whenever you find yourself in a risky spot, even if it’s nothing to worry about, run away! Even a small breeze can kill you if you’re walking down the street or jumping out of a four story apartment building!” That last line never made any sense to me. When would I be jumping off a cliff? Or why? But yeah, I should avoid risky situations as much as possible.

The king(?) stormed down the red carpet towards the door, half with grace and half like an angry toddler. The nearby knights saluted him as he passed and opened the exit inward, so as not to impede his path.

Well, hello escape route. Taking care to mute my steps, I snuck right in-between the two guards, stepping on the carpet indents left by our boisterous host.
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