Leon at 22 was a weeb like any other, his bedroom was a temple of waifu figurines—busty elven mages, tsundere demon queens, and cat-eared assassins—lined up on shelves like sacred relics.
Posters of sword-wielding protagonists plastered the walls, their chiseled faces staring down at his gaming rig, a glowing beast of a PC he'd nicknamed "Portal-kun."
Every night, after marathon sessions of Tales of Auralis or Dragon's Summon, he'd kneel before his figurines, muttering a 500-word essay he'd written to the "Isekai Gods."
It was half-joke, half-prayer, a plea to be whisked away to a world of magic, monsters, and, naturally, a harem of adoring heroines.
"Take me to a fantasy world," he'd chant, "where I'm the hero, not the NPC!"
One unfortunate day, or fortunate.
Leon was deep in a VR session, dodging virtual goblins in Auralis Online.
His room was a mess—empty energy drink cans littered the floor, their neon labels glinting under his RGB lights.
He was hyped, heart pounding as he swung his virtual sword, shouting, "Imma kill you all you green fucks!"
Then it happened. His foot caught on the VR headset cord. He stumbled, flailing, and knocked over a can of Bluebull energy drink.
The neon liquid splashed onto his PC's open case, sparking and sizzling.
A jolt shot through him, and as his vision blackened, he grinned like an idiot, thinking,
This is it. This is my moment.
_______
Leon woke to a pounding headache and the smell of incense mixed with damp stone.
His body ached like he'd been tackled by a linebacker, and his hands pressed against a cold, hard surface—a stone altar carved with glowing runes.
Am I… dead? he thought, blinking into the dim light of a torchlit chamber.
The air was heavy, and his hoodie and sweatpants were gone, replaced by a scratchy linen tunic and pants that felt like they belonged at a Renaissance fair.
His sneakers, somehow, had survived whatever this was.
His heart raced as he sat up, head spinning.
"Okay, okay, don't freak out," he muttered, running a hand through his sweaty hair. "This is either the best dream I ever had or I'm actually isekai'd." His voice trembled, betraying the bravado he was trying to channel.
He'd spent years fantasizing about this, but now that it was real—or seemed real—his stomach churned with nerves.
A sharp voice cut through his thoughts.
"Looks like you did it, old hag." Leon's head whipped toward the sound.
A woman stood a few feet away, tall and muscular, her black hair pulled into a tight ponytail.
Her leather tunic clung to her like a second skin, accentuating every curve, and a sword hung at her hip.
Her face was a mask of stoic indifference, dark eyes studying him like he was a bug under a microscope.
She didn't smile, didn't blink—just stared, her expression as unyielding as the stone walls around them.
Beside her was an old woman, hunched and gripping a gnarled staff. Her face was a mess of wrinkles, and she cackled, her voice like sandpaper.
"Told ya, girl. The ritual worked. Plucked him straight from his world." She hobbled closer, peering at Leon with eyes that gleamed with unsettling amusement. "Bit scrawny, though. Hope he's got some spine."
Leon swallowed hard, his throat dry.
"Uh… hi?" he managed, his voice barely above a squeak. He slid off the altar, legs wobbling, and tried to stand straight despite the urge to curl into a ball.
"I'm Leon. Where… where am I? And, uh, what's going on?" His hands fidgeted, tugging at the hem of his tunic.
This is too real. Way too real.
The warrior woman crossed her arms, her expression unchanging.
"You're in Eldwood. I'm the chief's daughter. We summoned you to save our town. Don't make me regret it." Her voice was flat, like she was reading from a script she didn't believe in.
"Eldwood?" Leon echoed, his mind scrambling to keep up. "Save your town? Like, what, monsters? Dragons?" His voice cracked, and he winced.
He'd dreamed of being a hero, but now, faced with this stone-faced warrior and a creepy grandma, he felt like a kid who'd wandered into the wrong movie.
The old woman—Granny Something, he guessed—snorted. "Dragons? Boy, you're in over your head. My name's Elda, and I used forbidden magic to yank you here. Apologies for the no-warning part, but we're desperate." She grinned, showing a few missing teeth.
"You look like you've seen a ghost, though. First time dyin'?"
Leon's stomach lurched. "Dying?" He remembered the sparks, the jolt, the energy drink. "Oh, crap, I'm dead, aren't I?" His hands went to his face, patting his cheeks as if to confirm he was still solid.
"Okay, okay, so I'm dead, and this is… what, an isekai? Like in anime?" He forced a shaky laugh in this tense situation, trying to lean into the absurdity. "I mean, I prayed for this, but I didn't think it'd actually happen."
The warrior woman—chief's daughter—didn't react, her face as blank as ever.
"I'm Saria," she said, finally giving him a name. "Eldwood's under attack by Vraxus, a minor demon lord. His goblins, imps, and kobolds raid us nightly. Our healers are gone, and my magic's sealed by a curse. That's where you come in."
Leon's eyes widened.
"A curse? Demon lord? Me?" He pointed at himself, his finger trembling. "I'm just a gamer! I've never even punched someone, let alone fought a demon!" His voice rose, panic creeping in.
He'd imagined himself wielding a glowing sword or casting epic spells, not standing in a creepy chamber with two women who looked like they could snap him in half.
Granny Elda cackled again, leaning on her staff.
"Oh, you're a treat. Don't worry, boy, the gods picked you for a reason. Or maybe they just got a sick sense of humor." She shuffled toward a wooden door, muttering about "meddling deities."
Saria's eyes flicked to Elda, then back to Leon.
"Follow me," she said, turning toward the door. "We need to talk about your role." Her tone was all business, no warmth, no hint of reassurance.
Leon's legs felt like jelly, but he stumbled after her, his mind a whirlwind of fear and disbelief.
This is insane. I'm not a hero. I'm the guy who rage-quit after the second death.
The door led to a spiral staircase, and as they climbed, the air grew colder. Saria's sword clinked softly with each step, and Leon's sneakers squeaked on the stone.
He tried to focus, but his brain kept replaying Saria's words: demon lord, curse, save the town.
His hands shook, and he shoved them into his pockets, trying to hide it.
"So, uh, Saria," he said, voice wavering. "What's this curse? And what do I do? I mean, I'm not exactly… hero material."
Saria didn't look back.
"You're a healer. The ritual gave you magic to break my curse and help Eldwood. That's all you need to know for now."
"Healer?" Leon perked up slightly, clinging to the familiar trope. "Okay, that's cool. Like, do I get a staff? Potions? Maybe a spellbook?" He tried to sound enthusiastic, but his voice betrayed his nerves.
He pictured himself in a flowing robe, casting glowing spells. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.
Granny Elda, trailing behind, let out a raspy laugh. "Spellbook? Oh, boy, you're in for a surprise."
Saria stopped at a landing, her hand on another door. She turned, her dark eyes locking onto his.
"This isn't a game, Leon. Eldwood's dying. Vraxus's monsters are relentless, and without my magic, we're defenseless. You're our last shot." Her face remained expressionless, but the weight of her words hit like a punch.
Leon's throat tightened. "No pressure, right?" he said, trying to laugh it off, but it came out as a nervous squeak. His heart pounded, and he felt sweat beading on his forehead.
I'm not ready for this. I'm not a hero. I'm just… me.
Saria pushed the door open, revealing a smaller chamber lit by glowing crystals.
Shelves lined the walls, stuffed with jars of weird plants and what looked like a pickled tentacle.
A table sat in the center, covered in scrolls and a dagger that made Leon's skin crawl. Saria motioned for him to sit, and he sank into a creaky chair, his hands still shaking.
"Alright," Saria said, leaning against the table. Her tunic shifted slightly, and Leon's eyes darted away, his face heating up.
Focus, idiot. You're in a fantasy world, not a dating sim.
"Your magic is… different," she continued, her voice steady and emotionless. "It's tied to physical contact. Intimate contact."
Leon's brain froze.
"Intimate?" he squeaked, his voice hitting a pitch he hadn't heard since middle school. "Like… what kind of intimate?" His mind, traitor that it was, flashed to every hentai he'd ever watched, and he felt his face burn.
Saria's expression didn't change.
"Your power comes from arousal. The ritual made it that way. To break my curse, you'll need to… get close." Her tone was clinical, like she was discussing the weather, but her words sent Leon's heart into overdrive.
"Arousal?" he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. "You mean, like…" He couldn't finish the sentence, his brain short-circuiting. This is an R-rated isekai? Part of him wanted to cheer, but the rest was screaming,
I'm not ready for this! I've never even kissed a girl!
Granny Elda chuckled, tossing a scroll onto the table. "Gods have a twisted sense of humor, don't they? Don't faint on us, boy."
Leon gripped the chair, trying to steady himself.
"Okay, uh, so I heal people by… getting turned on? That's… that's a lot." He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I mean, I'm not saying no, but… how does this even work?"
Saria's eyes narrowed slightly, the closest thing to an expression he'd seen. "We'll figure it out.
First, we need to understand my curse. Then you can… do whatever you need to do." She turned toward the door, her movements precise and controlled. "Come on. We're wasting time."
Leon stood, his legs still shaky. His mind was a mess—fear, excitement, and a whole lot of what the hell did I get myself into?
He wanted to be the hero he'd always dreamed of, but right now, he felt like a kid who'd bitten off more than he could chew. Saria's stoic demeanor didn't help; her blank stare made him feel like he was already failing.
As they stepped toward the door, Granny Elda muttered, "Hope you're ready, boy. This world ain't kind to cowards." Leon swallowed hard, his heart pounding.
He wasn't ready—not even close—but he had no choice. Eldwood needed him, and somehow, he'd have to figure out how to be the hero he'd always pretended to be.