"Have you ever wondered what if all the fairy tales and legends were true?"
The narrator's voice echoed through the trailer, deep and resonant.
"Then experience it for yourself, play Chronicles of the Forgotten Age — a world set in the European Middle Ages, where magic, witchcraft, and mythical creatures await your discovery."
The next scene showed knights marching under storm-dark skies, witches whispering in candlelit woods, and something vast moving beneath the mist.
"Our aim is extreme realism. Ninety-nine percent of humans are ordinary — no special powers, no chosen ones — just as in the real Middle Ages."
The trailer shifted to a figure standing alone on a battlefield.
"Only one percent," the voice continued, "carry the spark of the extraordinary."
Eric leaned closer to his monitor, the blue light flickering across his face.
"This… looks good," he murmured, his eyes narrowing with intrigue.
"Realism, and only one percent with power… now that's interesting," he muttered, typing the game's name into the search bar —
"Chronicles of the Forgotten Age."
Eric scrolled further, finding the detailed intro of the game on the official site.
It was… unusual. Strangely authentic.
Unlike the usual fantasy titles overflowing with glittering mana, fireball-slinging mages, and swordmasters glowing with aura, Chronicles of the Forgotten Age stripped away all the spectacle — choosing instead to breathe realism into myth.
Here, there was no endless energy to summon. No convenient spellbook or chosen-hero prophecy.
Humans lived as they did in the true medieval age — plowing fields, hammering iron, brewing tonics from wild herbs, or dying young of fever and famine. Only a rare few — barely one percent — were touched by something otherworldly.
Witches who brewed hexes beneath the crescent moon. Warlocks who bartered sanity for power.
Alchemists obsessed with the secret of transmutation. Templars who bore relics said to burn demons on sight. They were remnants of the supernatural, scattered and secretive — feared as much as they were hunted.
Beyond mankind lay the ancient races that once haunted the edges of folklore — beings pulled straight from darkest legends.
The pale and cunning vampires of ruined keeps, the feral werewolves bound by blood and moonlight, the deceptive fae courts hidden within hollow hills, the revenants who rose for vengeance.
It was a world where the Church's prayers met pagan magic, and both trembled before what lurked unseen.
The main story followed a humble villager, a man of soil and sweat, who left his quiet home seeking honest work in a nearby city.
But fate — cruel and unseen — awaited him in the depths of the forest. There, beneath ancient oaks and a blood-red moon, he crossed paths with a wandering warlock. The encounter ended with a curse… and his rebirth as one of the undead.
From that moment, his tale became one not of conquest or glory, but of redemption — a desperate struggle to reclaim his lost humanity.
Eric's eyes widened slightly as he read, each line drawing him deeper into the world. "Wow… such a unique start," he murmured, his voice low with excitement.
Without hesitation, he clicked Download.
A blinding light erupted from his monitor, filling the room with an electric blue glow.
"That… doesn't look good," muttered Eric, squinting as he stood up, half-expecting smoke to rise from the screen.
The display began to flicker violently, static crackling through the speakers. The image warped and distorted, shifting between lines of code and scenes from the game's trailer — knights, witches, forests shrouded in mist.
Eric blinked, uneasy. "This looks exactly like those cheesy novel intros where the main guy gets sucked into a game."
Nervous laughter slipped from him. "Yeah, right. Not happening."
He yanked the power cable out of the socket — click. The screen went dark.
He exhaled, rubbing his temples. "Okay… crisis averted. Didn't want to become some cursed protagonist today."
Then the monitor flickered back on.
Eric froze. Slowly, his gaze dropped to his hand — the power cable dangled loose, still unplugged.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," he whispered.
The screen pulsed once, twice — then a massive blue, spectral hand burst through it, wrapping cold fingers around his arm.
"Hey! Let go, you glitchy freak!" Eric shouted, stumbling back. "I didn't even install the game yet! I didn't comment, didn't subscribe, didn't open any secret route— just leave me out of this!"
The hand tightened its grip, ignoring his desperate protests, and began pulling him forward. Papers scattered, his chair toppled, and the monitor's glow deepened until it swallowed the entire room.
"Wait—no, no, no! Pick someone else! I don't even have a handsome face!" His voice warped and splintered into static as he was sucked into the monitor.
A sharp snap echoed as the screen went completely black.
For a heartbeat, nothing moved. Then pale text appeared, one letter at a time, glowing like cold fire
[The Game Has Just Started.]
***
Author's note: If you're looking for overpowered heroes and shiny magic, keep scrolling—this isn't it.
This is for those who want real horror, twisted folklore, witches, warlocks, pagan gods, sacrifices, and knights. Stories drawn from legends across the world—Europe, Asia, Africa, the Americas, everywhere humans have whispered of the strange and the cursed. You'll get scared, shocked, and bored? Ha—never.