Chapter 1: The Wrong Summoning

The hero opened his eyes.

Everything was... different.

The light, the air, the world itself felt clearer than ever before. Yet, his mind was clouded. Something was wrong. His chest burned as if he had just been set on fire, and the pain was all too real.

He slowly sat up, trying to process his surroundings.

Towering stone pillars loomed over him. Stained glass windows cast eerie colors across the vast hall. Golden decorations shimmered under the candlelight.

A… church?

He barely had time to comprehend his situation before he noticed the people around him.

A group of men in heavy robes knelt before him, their eyes filled with a mixture of awe, fear, and confusion.

Then, one of them spoke.

"The Sixth Hero has arrived!"

Hero?

His thoughts froze.

That didn’t sound right.

The last thing he remembered was visiting a shrine in Japan as a tourist. He had been messing around, whispering a few random wishes:

"I wish I could be strong." "I wish I had a harem." "I wish I had an epic life."

Nothing serious—just for fun.

And now… he was here?

"No… this can't be real," he whispered.

Before he could process the situation, an older priest stepped forward. He held a small ornate bottle and gently tilted it to let a few drops of liquid fall onto the hero.

Holy water?

The moment it touched his skin, a golden crest flared on his chest.

All the priests held their breath.

But then—

The golden crest burned red.

A deep, crimson light swallowed it whole.

The old priest immediately recoiled.

"Get him out of here. Now."

The room fell into a hushed panic.

"But—! The summoning should be flawless!" "That light… what does it mean?"

Before he could ask what was going on, two men grabbed him by the arms and began dragging him toward the exit.

He struggled slightly, but something told him it was useless.

As they reached the church doors, the high priest suddenly raised his hand.

"Wait."

The men stopped, and the old priest stepped forward, looking directly into the hero’s eyes.

His expression was unreadable as he spoke:

"Your life will not last much longer."

A cold chill ran down the hero’s spine.

"What…?"

"The gods summoned six heroes to save this world. But during the summoning ritual, the sixth hero died."

Died?

"Yet, the gods revived him."

He paused.

"And the summoning magic… sought a replacement. That replacement was you."

He stood there, frozen.

"But the sixth hero is already alive once more. Which means…"

"You are unnecessary."

The words hit him like a knife.

"You were not meant to be here, and as punishment… the gods have placed a curse upon you."

A curse…?

"You will slowly wither away. Your body will weaken, your life will fade, and eventually, you will die."

He felt his heartbeat slow.

"That's… not possible."

The priest simply held out a small vial, pressing it into the hero’s palm.

"This is all we can do for you."

He stared at the tiny bottle, its faint liquid swirling inside.

"It will ease the pain," the priest continued. "But nothing more. If I were you, I'd find a quiet place… and accept your fate."

And with that—

He was thrown out.