Out of the Frying Pan...

Inside a classroom of a local High School a bright flash of light suddenly materialized out of thin air.

The students that were currently studying inside the classroom had to shield their eyes because of the sudden brightness but when the light finally subsided, they were alarmed by what they saw.

A man, around 6 feet tall, with dirty blonde hair, was suddenly standing there in a ragged and torn tunic and pants.

The most alarming aspect of the mans visage, however, was that he was seemingly covered in blood.

The man, of course, was Grant, having just returned from Revonance.

At first, no one moved, no one made a sound.

But that only lasted for a moment before Grant began yelling towards the ceiling.

"What the fuck do you mean, 'little test game'?! Show yourself you stupid fucker! What next part?! Don't fuck with me!!!"

In a fit of rage, Grant raise his fists before slamming them down into the ground in front of him causing the entire floor of the classroom to crack.

"If I ever find out where you and the rest of your god friends are, I swear to you, I will slaughter every last one of you!"

The sheer amount of anger and killing intent laced in Grant's words had paralyzed the teacher and students of the classroom.

Some of the kids had outright fainted due to the pressure exerted on them.

The rest of the students didn't make a sound or so much as twitch a muscle.

After a profanity laced tirade aimed at the gods and goddesses, Grant finally ran out of breath and was forced to pause, taking a few deep breathes Grant was finally able to calm himself down.

It was at that moment that Grant finally took in his surroundings and realized that he wasn't alone.

As he looked around the room he looked into the eyes of the terrified students, but also, at the classroom itself. What he saw, brought back a flood of emotions that Grant had long since buried deep within his heart.

He recognized parts of the classroom.

Sure, some of the decorations and wall hangings had changed, but this room... this was his old classroom from 10 years ago.

Overwhelmed by the reality that he had returned, albeit alone, Grant dropped to his knees before subsequently collapsing on the floor; having fainted.

It had been the first time in nearly a decade that Grant had allowed the tension that was so deeply rooted in his body, to disperse.

He was home.

Once Grant was unconscious, the pressure that was being exerted on the teacher and kids, finally dispersed.

Without hesitation the teacher grabbed the phone from his desk and quickly dialed 911.

A few hours later inside an interrogation room at the local police station, Grant sat at a table with his hands shackled.

Across from him sat two middle aged men, most likely in there 30's or 40's.

It had been nearly an hour since they had stripped Grant of his worn out clothing, given him a prison uniform, and brought him to this room.

"I told you! My name is Grant Hutchens and I am from the class of 2008 that disappeared nearly 10 years ago!"

"How are we supposed to believe that you were transported to another world with your classmates and they all died there while you somehow survived to fight against what you claim to be a 'Demon Lord'?! It sounds like a fantasy!"

When the three men had first arrived in the room, Grant had done his best to explain the situation and why he had suddenly found himself inside the classroom but the detectives found the whole story completely unbelievable and thus they had gone back and forth ever since about who Grant was and why he was there.

After another hour of back and forth arguing, Grant was well and truly fed up.

"Look, I don't give a fuck if you believe me or not. I didn't do anything wrong. So either throw me in jail or let me go!"

Although the detectives were reluctant to let him go, the only charges that they could levy against Grant were destruction of property and trespassing.

Other than the destroyed floor and terrified students, they had nothing else to go on.

Unless they believed his story.

But what sane human being would believe a story such as that?

They could have easily called the Hutchens family and brought them here, but they found Grant's story to be so implausible that they didn't even bother.

One of the detectives had even worked on the case of the disappearing children and knew the Hutchens personally.

He wanted to believe Grant was telling the truth, but it all sounded so unbelievable that he refrained himself in the end.

After some more back and forth, the group of men reached an impasse.

Left with no other choice, the cops were forced to relent and allow Grant to leave.

They fined Grant for the crimes they knew he committed, assigned him a court date, and released him.

They replaced his orange prison suit with some clothes they had laying around and led him out the front gate.

As Grant walked through the gate, they made sure to leave him with one last warning.

"Don't skip town. We may have more questions for you."

Not pausing his steps, Grant flipped the bird at the two detectives before leaving them with a subtle threat.

"I could end your lives before you even knew what happened: if I wanted too. But this isn't Revonance anymore so I am trying desperately to restrain myself."

Without giving them a chance to react, Grant planted his foot into the ground and launched himself forward into a sprint.

The cops, watching Grant disappear faster than a speeding car, stood there dumbfounded.

"Maybe that guy was telling the truth... holy shit how does he move that fast?!"

Grant meanwhile, was pleasantly surprised.

He had intended to sprint at a normal pace but apparently he still retained a portion of the physical traits he had earned in Revonance. Albeit a small fraction of what he once possessed.

He couldn't access the system or skills that he had used on Revonance, but that was irrelevant to him at this point.

Its not like he needed them here on Earth.

Although it had been a decade since he was on Earth, and many things had changed, Grant still remembered the general layout of the city of Phoenix and the general area in which he used to live.

So, while moving at speeds any normal human could only dream of, Grant made his way towards his old home.

For the first time in ages, Grant felt a tinge of excitement.

But also fear.

Did his family still live in the same place?

Were they even alive?

Would they believe his story when he told them?

Would they blame him for being the only returnee and not being able to save his classmates?

Questions flooded his mind as he continued onward before he eventually found himself standing before his old home.

By the time Grant had reached his old home, it was dark outside.

The only lights were the dim lights of old street lamps and random light shining from the surrounding houses.

His old home was one such house.

With a pit in his stomach, Grant slowly approached the front door and rang the doorbell.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally heard the sound of footsteps.

Part of him wanted to run away and disappear into the night for fear that he had already lost the last thing that mattered to him.

If he never knew if his family was alive or dead, then he could always live with the fantasy that they were waiting for him.

But it was that very notion that forced Grant's feet to remain firmly planted in place.

He had wallowed in despair for too long and lied to himself even longer.

He wasn't alright.

He knew it.

And maybe, just maybe, seeing his family could help him to salvage some part of himself.

Moments later, the door finally opened.

Standing just a few feet from him was a frail looking lady in her mid 50's.

Just like Grant, she had dirty blonde hair.

"Mom?"