Beta 1: Moods and Monarchs (Patreon)

[Disclaimer: This is purely beta reading editing process, so it's a bit rougher. That said, its literary crack elements are off the charts from the very start. Enjoy.] 

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Contrary to what the four USTA tennis medals on Sara Reece’s wall might suggest, she was an absolute sloth at home. She would slam her desk alarm at 5, silence her smartwatch at 6, and snooze four phone alarms (set for 6:00, 6:30, 6:45, and 6:50). It was only after her iPad went off at 7 that she would genuinely get up. That way, if she threw something, it wouldn’t be that important.

So imagine her mother’s expression when she ran downstairs at 5 a.m. wearing nothing but her pajamas and her lack of consideration and screamed:

“When was the last time you saw me?!”

Probably pretty confused. Especially when the poor woman’s only honest answer (the one Sara obviously wasn’t looking for) was, “U-Uh, yesterday?”

Yep, pretty confused. However, Sara would never know because she was already stomping up the stairs with a haunting cackle while mumbling: “You just wait. If I go back, I will find you. And when I do, ho hohoho! I’m going to wear your jugulars as shoestrings!”

Slam!

After cracking the bathroom door, she turned on the shower with a vicious grin. “I better scrub off my past personality. I have a long life of being treated like a paranoid schizo to look forward to.”

And scrub she did, slamming the L'Oréal Paris shampoo pump twice as if it were a dynamite plunger and itching it into her scalp like she hadn’t bathed with modern shampoo for years.

That’s because she hadn’t.

See, Sara Reece wasn’t an idiot that had to spend two days to figure out that she returned to the past because the clock and surroundings clearly fucking said so. That, and she didn’t need someone to explain what transmigration was because she had already, in fact, experienced it—when she got isekai’d five years ago.

“I finally kill the damn demon lord, and what do I get? A restart to the start of this shitty life?” Sara chuckled bitterly. She had literally just killed the demon lord, and then a multi-dimensional array glowed under her, and she woke up in her bed on Earth. She didn’t even get to savor the feeling of shutting that charming fucker up.

Bitter, she grabbed a bar of Neutrogena (she once feared acne more than heroes and politicians) and waved it with microbursts. “Right before my fucking wedding, too!”

After a truly primal scream, her mother called upstairs. “Honey?! Are you alright?!”

Her eyebrow twitched. “Yeah, Mom! Peachy!”

“Okay….”

Sara hit the shower handle, dried off, kicked her pajamas and underwear into her hand in one motion (she still had athlete muscle memory; nice!), and then stomped into her room.

After tossing aside her clothing, she pushed aside her expensive cosmetics as if they were trash but then thought better of it. “I want that traitorous asshole to remember what he lost.” With a resentful grin, she picked up cosmetics for the first time in a half decade and dolled herself up, cackling as she did it.

It wasn’t until she got downstairs and saw her mother that the other reality of the situation kicked in. The moment she did, her anger collapsed.

“While it may not sound like it, I’ve missed you, Mom.” Sara bit her lip and swallowed hard. It had just occurred to her that if she didn’t go to school today, there wouldn’t be the chance she’d get Isekai’d again. Then, she wouldn’t abandon her mother and father, who would surely grieve twice as much about their only child disappearing than she felt about going missing.

Her shaken mother was taken aback by the term “I’ve missed you,” but her worry was far too great. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she gulped. “You’re scaring me.”

Sara opened her arms and caressed her mother. “Listen, Mom,” she said. “There are some people that are very, very special to me that I have to protect. If I don’t go to them….”

There she went scaring her mother again.

“Listen,” she tried again. “If anything ever happens to me, ever, I want you to know that I love you and Dad. That’s why you don’t have to worry about me being angry with you.”

Confused, her mother turned around to avoid interrogating her perfect daughter, who had abruptly become a demon child. She’d interrogate her at lunch with a phone call. That’s what Sara could see in the woman’s eyes.

Still, to the woman’s credit, she turned to the kitchen. “Okay, let’s have breakfast….”

Fifteen minutes later, as her mother emotionally processed the sight of her tennis star daughter (known for exact portion sizes) eating three plates of eggs and drowning herself in bacon grease, she saw her daughter off.

However, that wasn’t until Sara hugged her deeply, said some enigmatic things, took a selfie with her mom using her mom’s phone, called her dad, left him a heart-felt voice recording, and wrote a heartfelt note to stick on the fridge. Oh, and she also ran back to her room, dumped out everything in her backpack, and started shoving panties, pads, sports bras, cosmetics, and a full pack of toothbrushes and paste into it.

In the fortunate, or arguably unfortunate, chance that she got sent back to the Escaran Kingdom, she’d do it with a fucking toothbrush.

After leaving the house, Sara got into her Tesla Model S and froze for a moment. “I probably shouldn’t use autopilot,” she thought. “It blows that a petty crash can kill me here.” One annoyed sigh and two teeth-gritting sessions later, she was cruising down to Gunn High School in Palo Alto, checking her rearview mirror all the wild.

The sun was bright that day and the airconditioning was almost dreamlike from where she was. However, it was slow—like, really slow. Imagine trading a Griffin for a fucking Tesla. That slow.

However, she gritted her teeth and bore it, parked in the parking lot, and waited.

“There’s no way I’m going to spend any more time in that room than necessary,” Sara said, checking her watch. “So it’s time to relax.”

With hawkish eyes, she watched people flood into her school, shooing away teens who saw her in her car. At the last minute, she walked through the door, made her way to classroom 201, and entered it.

“She must be sick. She’s never late.”

“She was just up late last night,” a handsome teen said. He was a stereotypical jock with biceps the size of his ego and legs as thin as his personality.

“What does that mean?” a female with flowing raven hair asked, her eyes glittering mischievously.

He shrugged. “I’m just saying she was up late last night. You can interpret that however you—”

“AHEM!”

The class turned their heads in unison. While they were scared to get caught gossiping and were taken aback by her uncharacteristic aggression, everyone’s eyes widened when they saw Sara Reece, dolled up as always but mature and dangerous somehow.

“I was up late last night because I was thinking about you, Jason,” Sara said.

A collective ooh and chorus of ahhs rang out in the room, making Jason blush slightly. He looked around at everyone’s expressions with a feeling of grandeur. “I was thinking—”

“We’re over.”

The class stood still when Sara unceremoniously dumped her boyfriend in front of the class, she turned and saw a redhead, who she immediately averted eye contact with. Then she turned to an acne-riddled teen wearing glasses and a Bassnectar t-shirt staring at her with wide eyes. “Sup, Daniel.”

Without permission, she sat in an empty chair next to him.

“I-I…. Hi. Um, Sara. People are watching—”

“If anyone bad mouths you, I’ll use all my power to destroy their lives,” Sara replied, crossing her arms and looking at the smart board. “Now, calm your tits. It’s not like we’re friends. You’re just the only good person here who isn’t annoying.”

A gasp rang out in the room, and the raven-haired teen walked up to her with a murderous expression.

“Yes, Mary?” Sara asked in a bored tone.

“That’s my chair.”

“Was. This is English class. Learn your tenses properly.”

Mary’s face flushed red when the oohs returned but with a different context. “Everyone just heard you saying you’d exploit your power. That’s extortion.”

“Yeah, everyone heard you do it too,” Sara replied, turning to her. “Didn’t stop you from abusing male servants.”

The class fell silent and cocked their heads alongside Mary.

“Oh, right. You don’t have power yet,” Sara chuckled. “Spoiler alert: you turn into a total bitch after you get some.”

Just when pandemonium threatened to break down, the teacher walked into the room.

“What is this ruckus?!”

“Miles was getting bullied, as usual, and I sat here to prevent that, Ms. Shouts,” Sara replied. “Please have this bully take my chair.”

“Young lady!” Ms. Shouts snapped.

“Does this mean you’re okay with bullying?” Sara retorted. “I’m happy to bring this up with the superintendent.”

The teacher fell silent with the class. Then, once the point was made, Sara flicked her fingers at Mary in a fuck off sort of gesture.

That’s how class began.

After that, the amount of learning students got was probably -30% of what it should’ve been, as everyone was losing their damn mind about Sara’s “possessed” behavior and Jason’s expression, which looked like a possessed tea kettle on the verge of exploding.

As for Sara herself, she kept looking at her watch. ‘I don’t remember when it happened…’ she gulped. ‘Will it happen? If it doesn’t….’

The image of a certain man and his little sister flashed across his mind.

Then the word DEAD juxtaposed on their image.

Sara shuddered at the thought. ‘It’s strange, I spent years trying to come home, and now… I’m somehow here.’ She bit her lip. ‘But what’s the point if you can’t protect the people you love?’

As she was thinking those thoughts, the ceiling and floor developed complex magical circles—alchemic arrays, as they’d soon learn—and Sara sighed with complex feelings. ‘Well, at least I’m going home.’

The next moment, their worlds turned white.

2

Chaos ensued (for real this time) when the students found themselves in a massive audience chamber filled with golden lamps topped with mana crystals, elaborate art, and rugs that looked like fur with strange white stripes. The latter looked strangely genuine, like a tiger skin rug, but was large enough to swallow a semi, making everyone reflexively shudder.

The most ornate decoration in the room was the thirty hooded people circling them with shady cultist vibes, followed closely by the intricate array on the tile floor that looked like something you’d sacrifice a child on in exchange for rain.

“Welcome, heroes!”

Sara’s classmates turned and found a large man sitting atop a glorious golden throne.

“Kneel, you fools!”

Everyone turned to find Sara kneeling on the ground, bowing her head to the king, who looked both surprised and pleased by the gesture. Half of the people followed by example, a quarter, like Jason, stared at her for a moment before complying, and Ms. Shouts snapped, “What is the meaning of this?!”

‘Here it comes,’ Sara internally sighed. ‘Give up. Your pleas are pointless.’

—And they were.

The king waved off her concern before some of the cultists bound the woman with a magical spell that made it seem like she had given up when she was actually suffocating.

‘I have something special in store for you, King Escar,’ Sara thought, casting a subtle yet bloodthirsty glance at the king. ‘You won’t betray us again.’ Her eyes glided to the right, looking at Jason and Mary. ‘Even if some of us deserve it.’

“Ahem. You must all be wondering where you are, why you’re here, and a plethora of other questions,” King Escar said. “I’ll answer them now. You are in the Kingdom of Escar, and I am King Escar, the monarch here.”

The students gulped.

“As for why you’re here, it’s because summoned people have uncorrupted cores, allowing them to become stronger and achieve immortality,” he claimed.

Sara rolled her eyes. Not at the man but at the students, who, despite the direness of their situations, were ready to bark and wag their tails. By the end of the conversation, they would.

“Let me explain,” he continued.

King Escar went on to explain how mana cores allowed for “Paradeisos benedoxen,” roughly translated to God’s Blessing. It got its name from its ability to halt aging after age 25 and keep health in perfect condition if managed correctly.

Unfortunately, most could not. The safe age that people could establish mana cores was fifteen, and by that point, their base core and spirit veins (the channels moving mana from the core to hands and feet for spells) were clogged and eroded, leading to irreversible damage.

That solution? Summon people from another world.

By doing that, they could pump egregious amounts of resources into pure people, making them absurdly strong.

“If this is true, then why would you trust strangers from another world with strength?” Mary asked. “I’m not a genius, but I know that’s dumb.”

King Escar frowned. Not only was he unaccustomed to rudeness (something everyone would soon learn once his “nice” face was off), but he also didn’t like the answer. “The demons have amassed significant power. Choosing between annihilation and trusting in fellow humans, we chose the latter.”

Jason shot up with a judicial glare. “And you expect us, teenagers you just summoned to fight for you?!”

“Young man, calm down,” King Escar commanded. “You seem to be a man of righteousness—”

‘Here comes the jerkoff scene,’ Sarah thought.

“—so you must understand. What about the countless teenagers your age who will be ripped from their lives, watch their siblings die, and see unspeakable atrocities? Don’t you, a nobleman we chose for his bravery, honesty, and prowess, wish to help them.”

Jason’s eyes lit up, and he looked around, then righted his posture. “Of course! I would never leave people to die. I just believe our classmates deserve to know the answer in their minds.”

‘Sploosh.’ Sara rolled her eyes at the narcissistic teen’s behavior. ‘What did I ever see in this tool?’ She looked at his pecks, smile, and Rolex watch. ‘Parental approval.’

After that thought, the conversation proceeded smoothly, with half the classmates crying, a fourth giving morally superior pep talks, and the remainder, led by Ms. Shouts, protesting all the way through a massive feast held in their honor.

Sara spent most of the night listening to melodies on lyonnia flutes which made her feel eerily glad to be back, even if she hated everything.

That night, after getting assigned her lavish bedroom adorned with gold, cosmetics, a bath as big as a hot tub, and a king-sized poster bed fit for royalty, she walked into the center and sat down on a larabeast rug that felt soft like a foxtail.

‘Someone turned back time before we showed up,’ Sara thought, a frown carved into her face. ‘That’s a fact. But even if someone wanted to do that, they’d need this Kingdom’s summoning research and the demon lord’s power…. Combined with setting it up in the palace….’

There was a deep-rooted conspiracy, and establishing the main culprit wouldn’t be enough.

‘Either way, I need to find who’s involved and stop them from sending me back again. Even if they don’t remember me….’ The same image of the man and his sister flashed into her mind, and her heart welled with anger. ‘I’m still going to protect the people that I love!’

With a fire in her heart, Sara cracked open a book she requested from the king. She already had a few suspects from her classmates in mind and some demons and politicians as well. So she’d count her days and make the most of this restart, amassing power, out-maneuvering her enemies, and fixing her past mistakes.

That started now.

This time would be different—she’d make sure of it.