An ad popped up on my phone when I was younger.

  It was from an app I used to read novels on. One of those pirated Amazon copies meant to funnel clicks away from the authors. Nothing flashy. Just free. Perfect for a broke boy bored out of his mind, like I was.

  And on that app, it looked like someone had actually paid for an ad, which was pretty rare back then.

  The text read:

  “Torin was just a boy when the Gods chose him for more.

  In a Kingdom rotting with corruption, in a world crawling with villains, only he could change it.

  Read The Chosen Dragon Now!”

  It wasn’t much. The story didn’t look that promising. But I said fuck it. If nothing else, I’d support a pirate who dared pay for an ad on these websites.

  And, against all expectations, it was actually decent to the point that I actually bought the author’s novel.

  The plot was interesting. The female characters had some real depth to them. But the main character? A bitch. God, I hated him. Still, I kept reading.

  For a year straight, through my first year of college, I followed every chapter as it came out.

  Then, out of nowhere, the bastard dropped it halfway through.

  A world died that day. A world left unfinished.

  It was strange to remember that story, and that bastard, now, a decade later, as I drove down the highway. A random thought, at a random time. But I had ten more hours of asphalt ahead of me as I had to travel for a meeting on the other side of the country, so my mind wandered.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Let me at least put on some music,” I muttered, leaning just enough to tap the screen on the dashboard.

  That was when the honking started.

  I jerked upright, eyes snapping back to the road, but there was no road anymore. Just the face of a bloody mountain. It seemed I lost control.

  I crashed at full speed. What had once been a decent car folded into itself like paper. There wasn't much pain, but the sound of my life ending came last.

  People were screaming. Running. Yelling. I could hear them through the ringing in my ears as they rushed to see what was left of me.

  A random death, for a random guy.

  ‘Well,’ I thought dimly, ‘Onto Heaven, I guess.’

  Guess what?

  There was no Heaven. There was no afterlife.

  I was sitting at a table instead, my head pounding like I’d drunk far too much the night before.

  “Well then, Count Valen,” a middle-aged man said, “Do we have a deal?”

  His clothes were far too fine for the situation, and the way he frowned told me he hated my guts with every fiber of his being.

  But that name... Count Valen.

  Count, as in the noble rank?

  ...No. No, no, no.

  Before I could react, my body stood on its own.

  “We have a deal, Margrave,” I heard myself say. “Your daughter’s hand for my armies, as agreed.”

  What the fuck was I saying? And whose voice was that?

  “So be it!” the man snapped, leaping to his feet and sending his chair skidding backward. “But pray tell, how many fiancées does that make now?”

  “Tell me, Margrave, do you want armies,” I replied coldly, venom dripping from words I didn’t want to speak, “Or answers?”

  My head throbbed. My vision swam, but the man said nothing.

  “Now that the deal is done, leave me. I will come for my fiancée in a week’s time. You will have your armies.”

  “B-but Count-”

  “Go.” My hand slammed against the table.

  The man stiffened, then bowed stiffly. “I pray the Gods rid Eldoria of ambitious men like you, my Lord. Otherwise, this Kingdom will fall.”

  Eldoria. Kingdom. Count Valen.

  Bloody hell, don’t tell me this is my afterlife.

  Please... please... don’t tell me I reincarnated as this fucker.

  I would have preferred a rock. Just sitting there. Chillin' for eternity.

  Why give me this?

  Why give me the shittiest Villain there is?