The Olympian gods, in their infinite wisdom, decided to bless humanity with magic. Sounds like a fairy tale, right? Gods, humans, magic—just what you need for another epic fantasy. Except, let me tell you, the reality isn't as glamorous as it sounds.
You see, when the cracks first opened hundreds of years ago, the gods—such generous rulers—thought it would be a great idea to "help" humanity. By help, I mean they sprinkled just enough magic our way to handle the monsters flooding through the rifts, all while keeping their divine hands nice and clean.
And when I say "blessed," I mean they tossed out abilities like party favors. Some people were lucky enough to get the gifts of power—amazing abilities to control fire, summon shields, and heal armies with a flick of their finger. But for someone like me? Well, the gods decided to "bless" me with the ability to heal. Slowly. Like, pretty sure a snail could walk a mile by the time I can fully heal anyone.
But hey, who am I to complain? At least I'm alive.
You might be wondering where I am now. Well, right now, I'm standing outside a dungeon portal with my wonderful classmates on an exclusive school trip. Yes, a school trip. What's more educational than dragging a bunch of sixteen-year-olds into a rift filled with monsters for a hands-on "learning experience"? Who needs textbooks when you have life-threatening danger, am I right?
Our teacher, Professor Calloway, stood at the front of the group, practically buzzing with excitement. She was one of those endlessly cheerful types who likely fantasized about motivating the next wave of heroes. And what better way to inspire us than to lead us into a low-ranking dungeon for a "drill exercise"?
I adjusted the bags on my back, trying not to groan as my shoulders protested. Why was I carrying the gear, you ask? Well, dear reader, let me introduce you to my classmates.
Nolan Drake, our fearless leader, stood at the front of the group, his purple hair catching the light like he'd just stepped out of a shampoo commercial. His piercing blue eyes scanned the portal, calculating and sharp. Nolan doesn't walk—he commands. Gravity literally bends to his will, which is ironic because his ego has its own gravitational pull.
Next to him was Lucas Marlowe, the group's resident fire-wielding golden boy. His bright red hair practically glowed, matching the constant smirk on his face. Lucas is the guy who would start a bonfire at a campsite just to show off and then "accidentally" burn the whole forest down.
And then there's me—Ethan, the healing genius. Except, instead of patching up the brave warriors on the front lines, my role is… let's just call it logistical support. Translation: I get to carry the bags.
"All right," Nolan said, his voice clear and authoritative. "First responders, you're up. Stay sharp, help out, and stay alert. Additionally, Ethan…" Oh, here it comes.
"…you're in charge of the bags."
The group chuckled, all too relaxed and a bit harsh, as if this was just another one of those delightful inside jokes aimed right at me. I put on my most convincing fake smile.
"Got it, boss," I said, my voice oozing with fake excitement. "I wouldn't want to hinder your noble adventure with these incredibly burdensome sandwiches."
Lucas chuckled, leaning lazily on his spear. "Hey, someone's gotta carry the bags. Be grateful we even brought you along."
"You mean the teacher dragged me here," I shot back, my voice dry. "I'd love to stay in the classroom. It's nice and cozy. And, you know, safe."
The group chuckled again, though this time there was a mix of amusement and annoyance in their expressions. I adjusted the pack on my shoulders, swallowing the delightful little sting of anger just waiting to burst forth.
Here's the thing—they're not wrong. Compared to everyone else in the class, my magic is… underwhelming. Most support mages can do it all: shields, enhancements, party-wide healing. Me? I can barely keep one person standing at a time, and even that takes forever. It's like being the only guy in a cooking competition who can make toast while everyone else serves gourmet meals.
"All right, listen up," Professor Calloway said, clapping her hands to get our attention. "This is a low ranking dungeon , so it's perfect for beginners. Stay in formation, follow Nolan's lead, and remember—this is a drill, not a free-for-all."
"Got it, Professor," Nolan said smoothly, flashing her a confident smile. Of course he did. He probably wakes up in the morning and practices that smile in the mirror.
The rest of the class started lining up, chattering excitedly about the dungeon. To them, this was just another chance to show off their incredible powers. For me, it was another reminder of how much I didn't belong.
I hung back as the group moved closer to the portal, my body feeling heavier with every step. I could feel their eyes on me, their unspoken judgment flooding the air. To them, I wasn't a classmate—I was a bother.
But hey, at least I'm always consistent.
As the portal appeared, before us, its swirling energy casting eerie reflections, I managed to force a smile. Always smile. Never let them see the flaws.
And with that, I followed them into the unknown.