Michael Verisian, High School Senior At Oakridge High

The afternoon sun was dipping below the horizon, casting long, amber shadows across the pavement. For Michael Verisian, it was supposed to be just another ordinary Tuesday. Michael was the definition of average at Oakridge High—not invisible, but certainly not a standout. He maintained decent grades, had a small circle of friends (who unfortunately were in different schools), and spent most of his time navigating his quiet, mostly predictable routine as a high school senior.

But today, the routine broke. Distracted by a conversation with a classmate, Michael arrived at the bus stop just in time to see the taillights of the 4:15 PM bus disappearing down the boulevard. Checking his phone, he realised the next one wouldn't arrive for another hour. Sighing, he shouldered his backpack and decided to walk.

To save time, he took a detour through an older, less familiar part of the neighborhood—a narrow alleyway flanked by weathered brick buildings and overgrown ivy. It was a path he had never taken before, quiet and completely removed from the bustling main streets.

As he kicked a stray pebble along the cracked asphalt, a glint of metallic reflection caught his eye from beneath a pile of discarded wooden crates. Normally, Michael wouldn’t care about trash, but it looked shinier than usual trash - maybe it could be something valuable. Intrigued, Michael stepped closer and brushed aside the debris.

Resting in the dust was a light, ornate ring. It appeared to be forged from a dark metal similar to obsidian, engraved with intricate, seamless geometric patterns that seemed to shift slightly depending on how the light hit them. At its center was a smooth rose-pink crystal, slightly raised.

Michael picked it up. It felt surprisingly warm against his palm, carrying a faint, rhythmic vibration that pulsed against his skin. Out of curiosity, he slipped it onto his right index finger. It fit perfectly, as if it had been custom-made for him. As he examined it, his thumb naturally brushed against the raised pink stone, pressing it down.

A sharp, momentary jolt of energy rippled up his arm, making his eyes widen. The air around him suddenly felt heavier, charged with a strange, quiet static. He didn't know it yet, but the ordinary life of Michael Verisian had just come to an end, and a new world was about to begin - a world where Michael Verisian plays god.

Specifically one of those freaky Olympian Gods. Like Zeus. That guy was a menace.