Clap. Clap. Clap.
Legolas gasped awake, heart pounding. The sound of clapping echoed all around him—loud and overwhelming. He squinted. The light was blinding.
Where was he?
He sat up, blinking rapidly. The brightness slowly faded into shapes, then colors, then a full-blown, what-the-hell scene.
He was lying on a massive silky bed—like hotel-level fancy but ten times bigger. White sheets, gold embroidery, velvet canopy above. The room around him was straight out of a fantasy RPG. Tall arched windows flooded the space with warm morning light. Marble floors gleamed under his bare feet. Golden pillars, crystal chandeliers, detailed carvings of dragons and trees lined the walls.
But what made his jaw drop wasn't just the room.
It was the people.
All around his bed, a crowd had gathered—clapping and smiling like he was a damn rockstar. But they weren't normal people. Not all of them.
There were humans, sure—dressed in royal robes, armor, dresses, tunics—but also dwarves with braided beards and shiny axes, elves with long hair and glowing eyes, tiny fairies with fluttering wings and sparkling dust, even a tall lizard-looking man in a noble cloak.
The applause slowed. Someone stepped forward—a tall elf woman in silver armor.
"Welcome, Chosen One," she said in a melodic voice.
Legolas just stared.
His chest tightened. He looked around again, now panicking. This was too much. Too weird. Too surreal.
His breaths got quicker, shallow. His ears rang. His palms were sweating. "What… where am I?" he stammered, voice barely out.
The elf woman reached toward him.
He flinched.
The light hit just right, and everything looked too detailed, too vivid—too real. He felt dizzy.
And then—
Black.
.....
He woke up again with a jolt.
Still in the same bed.
The same room.
But this time, it was quiet.
No clapping. No crowd. Just the low hum of something magical in the air. The light outside had shifted a bit—still morning, maybe later. The sky through the window was light blue, with clouds lazily drifting by.
He sat up slowly, more careful this time. No one was in the room. Just him.
Still breathing hard, he swung his legs off the bed. The floor was cool. He stood up.
His legs felt weirdly steady for someone who just fainted.
He looked around. Took everything in again.
The walls were covered with paintings that moved—little scenes of battles, peace treaties, a dragon flying past a tower. The furniture was elegant but not dusty, like people actually used it. A desk in the corner had scrolls, a bottle of glowing ink, and a quill that occasionally twitched by itself.
The flames on the nearby wall torches were bright blue. He instinctively reached his hand toward one—no heat. Just a soft glow. Magical.
A massive plant spiraled down from the ceiling in the corner, its leaves swaying gently even though there was no wind. Some of the leaves had tiny stars glowing in them.
He turned to the window.
He stepped toward it.
And he stopped dead.
"Holy sh—"
Below him was a kingdom. But not just any kingdom.
It floated.
Literally.
Islands of land hovered over thick white clouds, connected by glowing bridges and flying creatures. Castles with spires taller than skyscrapers pierced the clouds. Streets lined with buildings of stone, crystal, and wood twisted between floating platforms.
People moved below—tiny from up here, but visible. Humans, elves, orcs, centaurs, fairies flying between platforms, dragons soaring across the skies. Magic was everywhere. He saw a man summon a horse out of lightning. Another floated while reading a book.
Banners of all colors waved. Music echoed from somewhere far below. The smell of sweet bread and roasted meat drifted faintly through the wind. He could hear laughter. Bells. Wings flapping. Metal clanking.
It was alive. It was real.
He leaned out the window slightly, gripping the sides.
He was in the sky.
Actually in the sky.
He backed away, eyes wide. "Nope. Nope. Nope."
He walked in circles around the room, hands in his hair, muttering to himself. "What the hell is this? Am I dead? Am I dreaming? Did I go into a coma? Is this a lucid dream?"
He looked around again. Everything was still there. Too real to be fake. He walked up to the wall. Touched it. Cold, smooth. He kicked the bed. It hurt.
He pinched himself. Hard.
"OW."
Still there.
He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath.
Opened them.
Still there.
"Okay…"
He sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at his legs. Then at his hands. Then around the room again.
Silence.
Then, finally, a whisper escaped his lips.
"…Have I been isekai'd into another world?"
No answer.
He looked up at the ceiling.
"Seriously?"
Still silence.
He lay back down, staring at the canopy above.
"What about Jay. Mom? Dad?"
He scratched his head in anxiety, feeling restless.
He paused.
"…Shit. What even happened before this?"
He tried to think back.
Last thing he remembered—he was in his room. Playing CS:GO with Jay. The lights went out. Power cut?
Then… black.
And now this.
"Okay. Okay. Think. Maybe I'm still unconscious? Or got teleported through the screen? Is this like Sword Art Online? Re:Zero?"
His head hurt.
He sighed, then slowly sat back up. Looked around one more time.
There was no doubt.
This wasn't Earth.
And it definitely wasn't a dream.
He rubbed his face. "Alright. Guess this is happening."
Just then, he heard soft footsteps approaching from outside the door.
He stood up quickly, heart racing again.
Knock knock!
"Prince, can I come in?"
"Prince?" He thought, "ME?"