Sorcerer From Another World

“What a day...” I lumber up the stairs of my apartment complex. This gym membership better pay off-I’m tired of being out of breath every time I climb these damn stairs. It’s embarrassing.

I tug on the handle of the third-floor door. It’s locked. “Isn’t the ground-floor security enough?” The daily ritual begins. I insert the first key into the lock. Wrong. The second key-wrong again. “Third time’s the charm...” This time, it is.

I keep telling myself I’ll label these keys, but procrastination always wins. Lucky for me, the key to my own apartment is unique, so at least I don’t have to cycle through the whole keychain twice.

The tiny apartment is a mess: clumps of hair and dust on the floor, cans and energy drink bottles on the windowsill, unwashed dishes in the sink, and a trash bag by the counter. I throw my work clothes on the floor without a second thought.

I sigh and prepare for one of the few things I enjoy-food. I picked up some pizzas at the convenience store on my way home from work. There was a huge discount, so I couldn’t resist, though I probably should have. I’m heavy enough as it is.

But it’s convenient, and with just a few minutes in the microwave, I’ll have a greasy, filling dinner. Coupled with a YouTube video, this is the highlight of my day.

Thank God it’s Friday. No need to brush my teeth or shower tonight. I grab the crumpled blanket and sheets from under the foldable couch and hastily make my “bed.” I really should wash these.

This couch-bed is terrible, but when I’m this tired, it doesn’t matter. The blanket is so warm, the pillow so cool, the... Thump.

My simple bliss is shattered as I hit the cold, hard ground. I writhe in pain for a few seconds. “For f-” I mutter, blinking against the harsh light.

As I look up, I see a beautiful fresco on a ceiling towering high above me. I blink a few more times, realizing I’m not dreaming.

I quickly sit up, only to find a group of strangers surrounding me. They’re clad in white robes, their faces obscured by deep hoods. I glance down and am confronted by a glaring problem: I’m naked.

I take a deep breath and start analyzing my surroundings. This place looks like a Christian church-or rather, a cathedral. The walls and ceiling are painted with various figures, but none appear to be Christian, and there’s no cross in sight.

I stand up, covering myself, and gaze out the distant window. A tree with brown leaves catches my eye. It’s autumn. Strange, since it was spring the last time I was outside-about 20 minutes ago.

Judging from my surroundings, a few theories pop into my mind. Maybe that pizza was laced with something, and it knocked me out for six months, or...

“Great hero from another world, please, grace us with your name,” a voice interrupts my train of thought.

“That answers that...” I murmur. I look around for the speaker and see one of the robed figures step forward, lowering his hood. An old, bald man with a long beard that flows down to his chest gazes at me expectantly.

It’s been a while since I’ve spoken to anyone who wasn’t a co-worker or a cashier. “I’m Steponas.” It’s such an old man’s name; just hearing it, you’d picture a grandfather from rural Lithuania.

“Great Steponas, you have been summoned to this world as a hero-a hero destined to defeat a great evil. The demons in the north are strong, their...” I tune out the rest of his speech. It sounds rehearsed and drenched in propaganda. I need to figure out if these people are trustworthy first. “...which means that only an otherworlder blessed by the goddess can save humanity,” the old man concludes.

The other robed figures look at me with hope in their eyes. It seems the old man is sincere, but I’ve never been one to trust strangers easily.

Their gaze lingers, scrutinizing every part of me, and a realization hits. “Can I get some clothes first?”