Chapter 2: Welcome to the Island of Magical Lies and Marketing Hype
After I got home, I did what any emotionally mature sixteen-year-old does after a long day of high school drama and accidental magical recruitment.
I hid in the bathroom for twenty minutes.
Okay, technically I was showering. But let's be real—I wasn't just cleaning off gym class sweat. I was mentally preparing myself to face the most dangerous boss fight of all:
Lunch with Mom.
She was already at the kitchen table when I came out—freshly showered, hair still damp, in my ultra-comfy "I give up" hoodie and sweatpants combo. The table was set with the usual: grilled cheese, tomato soup, and a side of parental concern.
"Hi sweetie," Mom said with a smile. She was the definition of classic housewife: always in a spotless kitchen, hair tied in a bun, and armed with a telepathic ability to know when I was hiding something.
"Hey, Mom," I replied, trying not to sound suspicious. Because apparently that's just my default voice now.
We sat down to eat, and I thought, maybe, just maybe, this would be a peaceful lunch.
But of course, fate had other plans.
Ring ring.
Mom looked at her phone and lit up like Christmas morning. "Oh, it's Diana! I just love that girl."
Of course it was Diana. Of course.
I groaned into my soup.
"Hi Diana! Yes, he just got home. You two are going on a trip next week? Oh, how exciting!"
I could hear Diana's voice through the phone. She was speaking at approximately 2000 words per minute, and I caught phrases like "chosen warriors," "mana burst," and "epic gear."
I slumped lower in my seat.
After another minute, Mom hung up and looked at me like she was about to drop the mom bomb.
"You know, Chris," she began slowly, "Diana's a sweet girl. Funny. Pretty. You two have so much in common."
Oh no. Here we go.
"She's not my girlfriend," I said, just to get it out of the way.
Mom smiled like I'd just confirmed the opposite. "That's exactly what your father said about me in high school. And now look at us!"
I blinked. "You think Diana and I are going to get married because we both like video games?"
"I'm just saying," she said, swirling her soup like it held the secrets of the universe, "don't waste time if you like her. You're young. But not that young."
I groaned again. "Mom. Can we not do this? Also, real issue here—why is she calling you more than I do?"
She ignored that and moved on to phase two of the interrogation.
"Also, while we're talking about your future, when are you going to focus on your studies? You can't pass college with those grades. You're not going to charm your way in with a sword and a spellbook."
"Well," I muttered, "I might, actually. If this new VR tech works out."
She gave me the look. You know the one. The "I love you but you're making my blood pressure rise" look.
"Chris."
"Yes, Mom."
"Promise me you'll study tonight."
"Absolutely."
"Promise me you won't waste your life on silly games."
"Sure."
"And promise me you'll at least consider asking Diana out if she saves your life in this... magical battle... thing."
"Okay that's enough grilled cheese for today."
I excused myself from the table before she could pull out my baby pictures. Again.
Upstairs, I flopped onto my bed, staring at the cracked ceiling paint like it held answers to life. I had a week until the VR event.
--------------------
After barely surviving Lunch with Mom: The Emotional DLC, I escaped to my room like a true hero. You know, the kind of hero who locks the door, flops face-first onto a beanbag, and opens his laptop because that's where the real adventure is.
I pulled up the event page for Dark Fantasy Online: Real World Magic Phase Two (™) and was immediately blasted by a cinematic trailer that had more explosions than logic.
Cut to: a private island.
Cut to: a palace so extra it made Versailles look like a cheap Airbnb.
Cut to: sparkly magic flying through the air while cool teenagers (who were obviously models) posed with glowing bracelets and perfect teeth.
Narrator Voice: "Magic... has no limits... except your imagination... and your willpower."
"Oh boy," I muttered. "Here we go."
According to the site, 500 participants would be taken to the island. There, they'd be given a Magic Bracelet—because apparently nobody's ever heard of rings, necklaces, or literally anything else—and this bracelet would react to your willpower and produce magic based on what you imagine.
Yeah. Sure. Totally realistic.
Willpower, the site said, was the fuel of all magic.
And their definition? "The ability to control our impulses, emotions, and actions. To act with calm focus, even under pressure."
...So, basically the opposite of me during every group project ever.
"If this thing actually measures willpower," I muttered, "mine's going to set itself on fire."
I clicked around the site, reading glowing reviews. Apparently, this wasn't the first time they'd run the event. The first batch of participants claimed the experience was "life-changing," "unreal," and "more immersive than reality itself."
Which sounded a little cult-y. Or like something a guy with sparkly teeth would say while trying to sell you a $500 toothbrush.
I scrolled further. There were graphs, pseudo-scientific diagrams of how neuro-reactive nanochips inside the bracelet converted "conscious intent" into "magical energy output."
Sure, and I'm secretly a dragon prince from another dimension.
Still... it looked cool. Like, really cool. And despite myself, the gamer in me—yes, the same part that once spent four hours customizing a demon mage character who wore eyeliner and shouted in Latin—was starting to feel the itch.
The itch to believe.
"Okay," I muttered. "Even if it's all just marketing hype, it's still a free trip to a tropical island with magic-themed LARPing. Worst case? I get sunburn and lose to Diana in a fake spell battle."
I closed the laptop with a sigh and leaned back.
That's when the real thoughts started creeping in. The ones I usually shoved under a pile of memes and energy drink cans.
Games make people unproductive.
You should do real things like sports.
Join a club.
Get out more.
Be like Adam.
Adam. Right.
The lie I told everyone—including myself—was that the volleyball captain banned me from joining because he was jealous of Diana hanging out with me.
But the truth?
Adam didn't give up on me. I gave up on myself.
I tried to play. I really did. But I couldn't keep up. I missed the serves, I tripped over my own feet, and my reflexes were about as sharp as a wet sock. Eventually, I just... stopped showing up.
And Adam?
He didn't say a word. He just joined the club himself. Maybe he was disappointed. Maybe he was just tired of waiting.
Either way, he left the game.
I stayed.
Not because I was loyal, but because this—this fake world full of glowing swords and made-up spells—was the only place I didn't feel like a total screw-up.
And now, they were promising to bring that world into reality.
Maybe that's why I was scared. Because what if this game actually did measure willpower?
What if it showed everyone what I already knew?
That I didn't have any.
-------------------
Negative thoughts are like mosquitoes.
You swat one away, and ten more show up humming You're not good enough in a tiny falsetto right by your ear.
But this time, I wasn't going to let them win. Nope. Not today, brain gremlins. I shook off the pity-party playlist like it was last season's meme. Because yeah, maybe I wasn't born with the natural athletic grace of a volleyball demiimmortal. But that didn't mean my life was doomed to be a montage of failures set to sad violin music.
I had other skills. Like... like timing parries in boss fights. And building five-layered sandwiches. And being the go-to guy for every group project when the smart kids were already taken.
See? Talents. Hidden ones. Ninja-level.
And then I thought about Diana.
She'd be seriously disappointed if I bailed on this magic thing now. Heck, she might even cry. Or worse—she might not cry and just stop sharing cheat codes with me forever. A fate worse than death.
Also, let's be real: acting like a soggy spaghetti strand when your best friend believes in you? Not exactly main character behavior.
"Right," I muttered to myself. "Let's fix this."
Step one? Apologize to Adam.
Okay, maybe not right now. I still had a bit of soul-healing to do. Nothing major—just a temporary magical quest that would hopefully reboot my confidence, rewrite my destiny, and make me slightly cooler in social situations.
I'd send Adam a message after the event. Something like:
'Hey, sorry I ghosted you. You were right. Also, I fought a wizard with a fire sword. So… let's talk?'
Perfect. Emotional maturity and vague flexing.
Now—time to train.
If willpower was the fuel of magic, then I needed to stock up. Like, Rocky-montage levels of mental prep.
"I like cola," I announced to the room. "So no cola for a week. That's right. Cold. Turkey."
It was a bold move. Caffeine and sugar were my lifeblood. But I was committed.
Then I added, "No games for the weak as well."
My eyes flicked to the PSP on my desk. It glinted at me under the light, whispering Play me, Christopher. Just one boss battle. For old times' sake.
I narrowed my eyes.
"No. I won't play. Definitely."
The PSP did not seem convinced.
I buried it in my sock drawer, slammed it shut, and backed away slowly like it was a cursed relic.
"I'm serious!" I shouted at the drawer. "This is for willpower."
Silence. Just the quiet hum of a room where a teenager had declared war on his own bad habits.
Honestly? It felt kinda epic.
Sure, I was about to go to a possibly sketchy magical VR island where my emotional stability would be turned into literal fireballs... but hey.
At least I'd go in without soda breath and thumb cramps.
-------------------------
So, meditation.
Yeah… that lasted all of six minutes.
Turns out, trying to sit still and not think about soda, games, or the fact that you might soon be shooting fireballs from your bracelet is like trying not to scratch an itch on your eyeball.
I was doing my best, though. Cross-legged, eyes closed, breathing like one of those ASMR monks on YouTube.
Inhale peace. Exhale boredom.
"Inhale pizza—wait, no. Focus, Chris."
I was deep in the zone (or as close as I could get without falling asleep) when my phone buzzed in my lap and nearly made me scream like a small raccoon caught in a trap.
Diana.
Of course.
"Hey, Chris!" she chirped like she'd just downed five energy drinks. "I just wanted to say I'm also training really hard! No anime. No games. Not even webcomics. Like, total monk mode."
I raised an eyebrow even though she couldn't see it.
"Diana," I said slowly, "I've known you for three years. I can smell that bull from three school districts away."
"What?!" she gasped. "Chris! How dare you doubt my spiritual discipline!"
I could hear the sound of a shōnen anime theme playing in the background.
"Diana. I can literally hear the opening to Shadow Soul Inferno Rebirth X: Final Remix in the background."
"…Okay, fine," she admitted sheepishly. "But it was a recap episode, so it doesn't count."
"That's not how this works."
"That's exactly how this works," she insisted. "I need it for inspiration. You wouldn't deny a mage her motivational playlist, would you?"
"Pretty sure real mages didn't level up by binge-watching magical girl shows."
"Those girls transform under pressure, Chris! It's character development!"
I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Just don't come crying to me when your willpower bracelet fizzles out because you emotionally invested in a filler arc."
She giggled. "You're such a grump. But it's okay. One of us has to stay grounded."
"That's me? I'm the grounded one now?"
"Well, yeah. You're the guy who gave up cola and games for a week. That's practically monk-level discipline. Like... Gandalf on a diet."
"I'm going to regret ever telling you that."
"Oh, definitely," she agreed cheerfully. "Anyway, gotta go. I've got to—uh—read some ancient scrolls about mana theory. Definitely not watch episode 127. Later!"
The line clicked off before I could even respond.
I stared at the phone, then at my darkened TV screen, then back at the drawer that held my PSP.
"No games," I reminded myself firmly. "Just willpower. Lots and lots of willpower. And maybe… earplugs. Because if Diana calls during another anime opening, I'm going to set something on fire without the bracelet."