Chapter 1 – Page 1: “The Ritual of Heroes”

The world trembled.

Light—blinding, pure, and searing—burst from the summoning circle carved into the stone floor of the ancient cathedral. Rows of robed mages chanted in unison, their voices blending into a humming echo that rattled the stained-glass windows. Golden runes glowed brighter with each beat of the chant, and in a flash like lightning captured in a bottle, twenty-five high school students appeared, dazed, confused, and silent.

Among them stood Kuro Hayashi, silent in the chaos.

The boy didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak. Didn’t even blink. His black uniform still bore faint spots of blood from a life he left behind—though no one around him would notice. He stepped back once, then folded his arms, scanning the room. The others—his classmates—shouted in shock, panic, awe.

“What is this place!?”
“Where are we?”
“Is this a dream!?”

The Grand Cathedral of Elvaria rang with cries and gasps, but Kuro just stared forward. The floor still burned faintly under his shoes, glowing with heat. His hands instinctively hovered near his sides, feeling for weapons that weren’t there.

He hated being disarmed.

An old man with a silver beard and golden crown stepped forward, flanked by armored knights and mage-priests. His robe shimmered with royal sigils, his eyes distant but commanding.

“Welcome, brave Heroes!” he called. “You have been summoned from the other world to save our realm from destruction!”

Kuro’s eyes narrowed. He had already assessed the man’s position, the strength of the knights beside him, and the multiple exits in the room. Instinct. Habit. He had assassinated men in larger halls, in more guarded rooms. This was no different. Only now he was surrounded by children. Idiots.

“Heroes?” Ayato Nakamura, the star athlete of their school, stepped forward, fire practically dancing in his eyes. “Are you saying we were brought here to save your world? That’s… awesome!”

Some students cheered. Others mumbled nervously.

Kuro said nothing.

He turned, quietly stepping away from the group. Not enough to draw attention—but just enough to slide between shadows, putting distance between himself and the crowd.

The king’s voice continued, booming over the chamber. “The Demon Lord Varun rises again. The fate of our continent rests upon you, the chosen from another realm. You are now citizens of the Kingdom of Aureth. We shall provide you housing, training, weapons, and—”

“I want to go back home,” muttered Yumi Tanaka, a shy girl near the front.
“Is this some kind of prank?” someone else whispered.
“Can we really fight demons?”

Kuro leaned against a pillar, half-listening. His mind had already calculated the situation. They were being used. Summoned. Offered no choice. He had seen it before—back on Earth, it was governments and syndicates. Here? Kings and magic.

Different world. Same chains.

A robed mage stepped forward now. “We have identified your affinities. Each of you bears a Mark of Power from the ritual. Come. Touch the crystal and let it reveal your class.”

A glowing crystal levitated at the center of the cathedral.

One by one, students approached.

“Flame Knight,” the crystal announced.
“Healer.”
“Beast Tamer.”
“Shadow Mage.”

Each student reacted differently. Cheers. Screams. Panic. Joy.

Kuro didn’t move.

He stayed near the edge of the cathedral, arms folded, staring at the massive stained-glass window above the altar. The art depicted a legendary hero slaying a demon beast. All false symbols. Used to justify war. He’d seen that too.

“Hey... Kuro, right?” Ayato approached him, still grinning like a child on Christmas morning. “You’ve barely said anything. Aren’t you curious about your class?”

Kuro looked at him. No expression. No answer.

“You should check,” Ayato said again. “Maybe you’re a Sword Saint or something cool like that.”

Kuro’s voice came out low. Cold.

“Does it matter?”

Ayato blinked. “Well… yeah. It decides what we’ll do from here, right?”

Kuro didn’t answer. Instead, he turned and walked away. Past the knights. Past the crowd. Toward the doors of the cathedral.

A guard stepped in front of him.

“You’re not allowed to leave the ritual site until your Class has been identified, hero.”

Kuro’s eyes flicked up. “Move.”

The knight frowned. “You are under royal—”

Kuro stepped to the left. Fast. A blur. His hand brushed against the knight’s armor and in a single, practiced motion, he twisted the man’s elbow just enough to cause pain, not damage. Not yet.

“I said move,” he whispered.

The guard winced. Backed away.

“Hey!” shouted a priest. “Return to your place!”

Kuro didn’t. He walked out the cathedral doors into the sun-drenched courtyard beyond, where cobblestone paths weaved through marble gardens and towers. His footsteps were silent.

Behind him, the ceremony continued.

Kuro sat beneath a tree outside the west wing of the royal palace. A long hour had passed. Nobody came to drag him back. They were too afraid. Or too busy pampering the others. Fine by him.

He listened.

Birdsong. Wind. Far-off clatter of swords. The screams of training recruits. It was a world soaked in steel and blood, same as the one he came from. But here, no handler. No contract. Just this empty weight in his chest.

He closed his eyes.

“Why are you out here?” came a soft voice.

He opened one eye.

A girl in a light green robe stood nearby. Hair the color of morning wheat. Eyes gentle, but cautious. She held a satchel with bandages and a staff slung over one shoulder.

“I didn’t see you go through the ceremony,” she said. “You’re one of the summoned, aren’t you?”

Kuro didn’t answer.

She tilted her head. “I’m Elenia. Apprentice healer. I’m… supposed to assist the heroes.”

“I’m not one of them.”

“You were summoned with them, weren’t you?”

“I didn’t ask to be.”

A pause.

Elenia sat beside him, tucking her legs under her robes.

“You didn’t seem surprised to be here,” she said.

“I wasn’t.”

“You knew it would happen?”

“I knew something would.”

She smiled slightly, sadly. “You’re strange. Most of the others are excited. Or terrified. You’re just… calm.”

Kuro said nothing.

Elenia took something from her bag—a small leaf-wrapped bundle of dried fruit—and set it beside him.

“I thought you might be hungry. You’ve been out here a while.”

He stared at it. Then back at her.

“I don’t need it.”

“I didn’t say you did.” She stood, brushing off her robe. “But even if you don’t believe in heroes or kings or destiny… you’re still a person, aren’t you?”

He watched her walk away.

Back inside, the King met with the High Priest.

“What of the black-haired boy?” the King asked.

The priest frowned. “His Class crystal rejected categorization. His aura is… unreadable.”

The King’s expression tightened.

“Keep an eye on him,” he said. “The ones who hide their blades are always the most dangerous.”

[End of Page 1 – Chapter 1]