The king looked over at the fancy-robed men, who were snickering among themselves, and lifted his hand, signaling for them to speak. They immediately straightened their backs and formed a line in front of the throne. The tallest among them stepped forward and pushed back his hood, revealing a man with a long bck beard and distinct, sharp features. He looked up to the king, who gave him a confirming nod.

  "Our saviors from another world, we welcome you and thank you for making the journey from your realm. Our goddess, Lady Magnus, has gifted us with three brave warriors for the trials to come." He bowed in a strange, foreign pose.

  The man walked back toward the group but stopped just in front of me. A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. Seems he learned his lesson after being tossed like a ragdoll.

  I raised my hand. "Okay, so the goddess or whatever brought us here, but I still don't know where here is. Or even who any of you are."

  "My name is Ahsan," the man said, bowing respectfully. "And this nd you've found yourself in is known as the Kingdom Hidden Between the Sand. The kingdom that has summoned you, my otherworldly friend, is the Saharan Kingdom of Sand. And the man who sits before you is the 39th King of Sahara—our Chieftain, Yusiah Khalid."

  "Enough with the pleasantries. Now that you know who and where you are, tell us your names so we may proceed with the ritual. I have other business to attend to," the king's voice boomed, reverberating throughout the throne room like thunder.

  Yusiah's presence commanded respect. His voice sent shivers down the spines of the robed men, whose nervous fidgeting betrayed their fear. Even without looking, you could feel the power he exuded.

  Yuhanna gave me a look that clearly meant: introduce yourself, pervert. I also caught a hint of malicious amusement behind her smirk. She was probably contempting whether or not it would be entertaining to tell her father what happened earlier between me and his only daughter.

  Yeah... not waiting for that moment.

  "My name is—" I began, then paused. I gnced over at the man in the sweat-soaked white shirt and fancy loafers. What did he say earlier? Something about being a prosecutor for the Attorney General.

  An American.

  Only Americans refer to their wyers that way. He had that arrogant air about him—indignant, entitled—like the world owed him something, even after being snatched into a foreign world.

  And then it hit me.

  I looked down at my clothes.

  I was no longer wearing the same white prison garb I died in.

  If they were from the same time period I was, there was a real chance he could recognized me. After all, I had assassinated the damn Prime Minister. No way a prosecutor wouldn't know that.

  The woman? She was a toss-up. She wore the same kind of outfit you'd see on a streetwalker in Astrakhan. Considering the food shortages and poverty there, prostitution was damn near institutionalized. Whether or not she'd seen me on the news was anyone's guess.

  I don't care about public opinion. Not really. But as I looked up into the princess's emerald eyes—biting her lower lip like she was just waiting for me to blurt my name—I realized I couldn't take that risk.

  The king leaned in, his red eyes glowing with irritation.

  "Did the summoning cause you to forget your name?" Yuhanna interrupted. "The court's patience is waning. Spit it out so we can perform the ritual."

  I forced a grin.

  "My name is Kane."

  "Kane?" Yuhanna narrowed her eyes at me, skeptical.

  "Yeah, what about it?" I shot back with a cocky smile.

  She studied me like a hawk, but I didn't flinch. I wasn't exactly lying. My real name is Ivan Kane Mikhailov. No one—not even my handlers—knew about the middle name my mother gave me. She never wrote it on my birth certificate.

  My dad, apparently, was a lowlife thug. My mother said she only knew him by Kane. A mean bastard who promised her marriage, got her pregnant, and disappeared. I figured if I was going to be reborn into this new world, his name was the perfect fit. Kane—just a guy chasing after every pleasure and fantasy he'd been denied.

  "I'm Enor," the red-haired woman chimed in with a shrug, completely nonchant.

  All eyes turned to the suited American.

  He crossed his arms, irritation all over his face.

  Enor elbowed him hard in the ribs.

  "Ow! You bitch, what was that for?!" he shouted, jabbing a finger at her.

  She didn't answer. Just rolled her eyes and looked over at Yuhanna and the robed council.

  He seemed to get the message.

  "Ugh... my name is Scion Hendricks," he spat, full of defiance.

  "You otherworlders are quite comical," Yuhanna said with a chuckle. "Now, little man in the slippers and tight clothes—you're first."

  Scion looked like he wanted to throw a tantrum, but his eyes flicked to the bde on her hip. He wisely chose silence.

  "Kindly step onto the ptform," Ahsan said, gesturing toward a rge golden circle etched into the white marble floor. Strange hieroglyphs and symbols ran through the ring like a maze of mysticism.

  Scion stared at it, uncertain. You could practically see the calcution behind his eyes. Was it a trap? Could he trust them?

  Didn't matter. Yuhanna grabbed him by the shoulders and plopped him onto the circle like a disobedient puppy.

  "I am not some child that you can just lift and pce wherever!" he barked.

  "Stay," she commanded, holding a finger in front of his face.

  He gred at her but didn't argue further. His common sense winning the battle over pride.

  The robed men stepped onto the outer edge of the circle, chanting in unison in some foreign tongue. Their scepters rose as one. The circle pulsed with blinding light. I shielded my eyes, but couldn't look away.

  The hieroglyphs lifted from the floor, floating into the air like glowing script. Scion flinched and stepped back.

  "What the hell is this?! What are you doing to me?!" he shouted.

  The robed men ignored him. The hieroglyphs swirled around his head, forming a glowing script I couldn't read. But judging by the elders' faces—smiling and nodding—it was something good.

  Ahsan stepped forward and hugged him.

  "Oh, thank the heavens! The stars are truly with us!" he said, patting Scion's back.

  Scion shoved him away. "Okay, wow, no. I do not swing that way. Someone please tell me what that glowing nonsense above my head even means?!"

  "You are the bearer of the title Holy Knight of Saints," Ahsan said proudly.

  "Holy Knight of Saints...?" Scion repeated in disbelief.

  The floating glyphs spiraled around him before shooting into his right hand. He screamed as they burned into his skin, glowing and twisting until they etched a glowing cross up his forearm.

  He colpsed to his knees, clutching his new arm tattoo. Yuhanna walked over and helped him back up, guiding him toward me and Enor.

  "What the fuck was that? Are you okay?" Enor asked. Her voice shaking.

  Scion rubbed his arm, wide-eyed. "That sucked a lot but I feel... amazing. Like I just downed a six-pack of energy drinks and chased it with a few lines of cocaine."

  "That sensation is mana running through your veins," Ahsan said, smiling warmly. "The glyphs merely awaken what lies dormant within you, Otherworlder. Forgive us for not warning you about the pain. It can be extremely intense but is fleeting."

  "Okay, fire-haired girl, you're next!" Yuhanna said, waving Enor toward the circle.

  Eleanor gnced at Scion's new tattoo. "How bad does it hurt?"

  Scion looked down at his forearm and shrugged. "Wasn't that bad, all things considered."

  She shook her head at him and stepped onto the ptform. The men began chanting again, their voices rising in a slow, eerie cadence until the golden hieroglyphs danced above her head like they had with Scion. Ahsan began cpping this time, quickly followed by the other elders in their ornate robes.

  "Your title is equally as marvelous," Ahsan said, voice echoing with pride. "You are the Bearer of Light."

  Eleanor repeated it, and just like with Scion, the hieroglyphs spun and twirled. But instead of entering her wrist, they bored into her inner thigh. Her scream was so raw, so guttural, it made even me want to cover my ears. She colpsed like Scion had, and as Yuhanna helped her up, I saw the same strange bck ink etched into her skin.

  She staggered back over, brushing Yuhanna aside. "You lying bastard. That felt like my entire body was on fire."

  Scion just grinned. "Rex. I figured a prostitute's used to a little pain between her legs."

  Her fist clenched. Her eyes glowed translucent white. With a fsh, she blew Scion backward. But this time, something changed—he floated in mid-air, his own eyes glowing the same eerie white. Large, radiant wings unfurled from his back and fpped with divine grace.

  Scion descended beside her, the light slowly fading from his wings. "Told you the pain was worth it. The power is unreal."

  "How did you do that?" Eleanor asked, circling him to inspect his torn designer jacket.

  "I honestly don't know. A voice in my head told me to imagine wings when you bsted me."

  "Do you also see that weird screen when you touch your tattoo?"

  He nodded. "Yeah. I don't know what's going on, but I don't hate it."

  Yuhanna rolled her eyes and locked eyes with me. She nodded slightly.

  Guess it was my turn.

  Weird how I wasn't more armed by the idea of ancient symbols drilling into my body.

  Shit's gotten weird since I was executed.

  I stepped onto the glowing ptform, expecting something... anything. But I felt nothing except the cool breeze rising from the white-tiled floor. The elders in woven blue robes surrounded me and resumed chanting.

  The hieroglyphs peeled from the floor, spiraling upward. At first, I was mesmerized by the golden light. Mystical. Beautiful.

  Then more appeared—eight distinct streams pulled from ancient inscriptions all around the room. They swirled like a storm.

  The chanting intensified. I could feel their surprise, but they didn't stop.

  "Holy shit..." I muttered.

  The symbols glowed hotter as they neared. But instead of shining gold, they shifted—crimson red, pulsing with a dark, ominous energy.

  "My word... it can't be," Ahsan whispered, stumbling backward.

  "This is gonna hurt," I muttered.

  I rolled up my sleeve and braced for it, but the first impact struck my shoulder—not my wrist. It was like getting shot. I clenched my teeth, forcing myself to stay upright.

  I've been through worse. I've been shot, stabbed, run over. I'm not some punk. I'm a trained killer.

  "This isn't too bad," I whispered. "I wonder what glowing power I'll—"

  Another glyph shot into my ankle. Then one into my thigh.

  "Holy fuck!"

  Three more bsted into my limbs and chest.

  The pain was... indescribable. Like every nerve in my body had been set abze. I grunted, convulsed, but stayed on my feet. Barely.

  I thought it was over.

  Then the st wave smmed into my back, stealing my breath. My vision dimmed. Bck and white spots danced in my eyes. I felt like I was dying all over again—only worse.

  Maybe I was still strapped to that chair. Maybe this was just my brain trying to soften the blow of death.

  But I didn't want this to be fake.

  I needed this to be real.

  Because if it was—I could finally live my life how I chose. Indulge in every desire. Money. Power. Women. All of it.

  I bit my tongue until it bled.

  "This is reality," I whispered. "And I'm going to dominate it."

  I clenched every muscle, grinding my teeth. I would not break. I would not fall. This was my new mission—my new world. I would bend it to my will.

  I let out one final roar. Crimson energy burst from me, shaking the pace.

  Silence.

  Not even the elders' chants remained.

  Euphoria surged through me. My muscles felt stronger, denser. I felt... powerful. Like I could crush steel with my bare hands.

  I opened my eyes slowly, adjusting to the light—only to find a spear inches from my face.

  I stepped back—into another pointed bde.

  The guards who lined the chamber now surrounded me, their expressions twisted with fear and hate. Twenty of them, maybe more. Weapons ready.

  I looked toward the throne.

  King Yusiah was standing now. Towering. Massive. His presence radiated command. Shock and... something else pyed across his face.

  His daughter stood beside him, her body tense. She was scared—or maybe intrigued. Her eyes met mine. In that moment, it felt like we understood each other. Curious. Conflicted.

  A spear jabbed my shoulder.

  The rage ignited.

  My hearing returned with a pop. Voices shouted over one another.

  "Heathen!"

  "Cursed one!"

  "He bears the mark of camity!"

  "What the hell is going on?" I growled, swatting the spear away.

  "Look at his body!" one of the elders shouted. "Those markings! He's the walking camity!"

  "We must eradicate him before the other kingdoms learn of this bsphemy!"

  They wanted me dead. Just like that.

  "Magnum Opioid," I muttered, "you said I'd be free to chase my dreams... Why are they calling me a demon?"

  The room pulsed with tension. The guards looked ready to pounce.

  Ahsan raised a hand, silencing the chaos. He turned to the king, awaiting orders.

  Sweat trickled down my neck. I was already calcuting a dozen ways to disarm and escape.

  The king stared, his gaze sharp. I could feel his killing intent in the air—it stirred the guards like a pack of rabid dogs.

  Then the princess coughed into her hand.

  "Uncle... this is unprecedented," she said, her voice steady. "We must finish the ritual. Please—announce the young hero's title."

  Ahsan's lips trembled. He turned to the king, who nodded—barely.

  Ahsan took a deep breath.

  "Bear witness," he began, voice quaking. "We have summoned the man mentioned only once in our long and ancient history. The one prophesied in warning, not in hope..."

  He hesitated, then finished with dread thick in his voice.

  "We welcome... the Bearer of the Seven Cardinal Sins... into the Saharan Kingdom."

  An_Ordinary_Writer