The Unwanted and the Unseen

True to her word, the little princess had fulfilled her pledge. And, just as I had anticipated, the royal court had no intention of returning me to my former world. This outcome suited me perfectly. In all honesty, had they offered me a passage home, I would have refused. To be whisked away to such a breathtaking and wondrous reality only to be unceremoniously sent back would have been an unforgivable waste of opportunity. This planet was a pristine canvas, and I was determined to leave my own indelible mark upon it. The tedious, absurd responsibility of confronting demons could be left to the prophesied champion they were so desperate to summon. I sent a quiet prayer to any deity that might be listening, a simple plea for them to bless the unfortunate soul and ease the crushing burden that awaited him.

The preparations for the ritual concluded with a well-rehearsed precision. The translucent vessel that had once housed the great crystal now sat empty beside the grand altar.

One of the priests, a man adorned in vestments so flamboyant and garish they bordered on the absurd, gave a low bow to the King. “Your Majesty, everything is in readiness.”

The King acknowledged him with a slight, almost contemptuous flick of his wrist, dismissing the man back to his designated spot. Then, moving with solitary purpose, he approached the altar.

His hand rose, his fingertips ghosting over the crystal’s polished facade. A subtle glow blossomed at the point of contact, immediately erupting into a cascade of brilliant, concentric ripples of light. The crystalline prison, like some fragile mirage, dissolved into thin air. So, it was genuine magic after all. And in that very moment, it dawned on me that the gem had been levitating the entire time.

With its container gone, the King laid both hands gently upon the floating crystal. He gazed into its fathomless depths, his lips shaping a silent, indecipherable chant. It was undoubtedly an incantation, but from my position, the words were lost to the distance. Throughout the chamber, the assembled dignitaries and officials made their final adjustments, settling into their places to await the ceremony’s true beginning.

After what felt like several minutes, the King appeared to finish his invocation. He withdrew his hands, and the crystal drifted with serene grace to the absolute center of the altar. The King then retreated to his station, now flanked by a retinue of his royal guards. An impossible wind, born from nowhere within the sealed hall, began to stir, its spectral force tugging at our hair and clothes.

“Failed hero, observe!” King Ramstaros’s voice thundered, slicing through the rising gale with an expression of stern command. “This is the sacred rite to summon a divine champion! Soon, a true hero—one endowed with celestial power and a heroic spirit—shall manifest to annihilate the demon lord and bring salvation to our people!”

That insufferably self-important proclamation only served to make him sound like an even more pompous fool. I paid him no mind, directing my complete focus back to the altar.

Ironically, as the arcane runes carved into the altar’s stone began to throb with a radiant white light, the rest of the chamber seemed to be swallowed by a deepening gloom. It was a profoundly disorienting sight. The crystal itself soon began to hum with a matching luminescence, not merely reflecting the light from below but seemingly amplifying it. As the manufactured wind died down, the crystal started to bleed trails of multicolored light. They spiraled through the hall like lazy, miniature comets, leaving faint whistling notes in their wake. A few of these motes of light circled me, and where their energy passed, a gentle and pleasant warmth seeped deep into my skin.

After roughly half a minute, these miniature comets converged, flowing together to form a single, thick ribbon of pure light. This ribbon soared high above the crystal before executing a sharp dive, plunging directly into the gem’s core. The crystal refracted the immense energy, shattering it into a thousand lesser beams that shot out at random angles across the hall. Then, just as abruptly, they all converged once more, focusing into one colossal, blinding shaft of light. A shaft of light that was aimed directly at me.

The beam struck, and my entire world exploded into an ocean of searing white. The smaller trails had been bright; this was blinding. What was happening? A cold dread washed over me. Please, let this not be a trap. Am I part of this ritual? Do they require a sacrifice—the previously summoned one—to successfully call the next? The horrifying possibility, a contingency I had never once entertained, sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated panic through my system. This was a catastrophe.

Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the focused beam of light vanished. As my frantic thoughts caught up with the present reality, I took a desperate mental inventory. I was still here. I was still alive. A powerful wave of relief washed over me, only to be immediately supplanted by a surge of rage. I shot the King a furious glare, a silent, burning demand for an explanation. He merely stared back, his own expression a mask of complete and utter bewilderment. A quick glance around the room confirmed that every other person present was also staring at me, their faces a gallery of shared confusion.

Ignoring the interruption, the ceremony continued. As the dazzling afterimage of the beam faded from my vision, another ray of light poured forth from the crystal’s base onto the altar’s surface. The mystical script flared to its maximum intensity, and a massive pillar of pure energy erupted skyward, climbing toward the domed, stained-glass ceiling. For several seconds, the column of light stood tall, orbited by the swirling comets—a beacon that could likely be seen for miles.

Then, as the pillar slowly began to dissipate, a thick, rolling mist flooded the chamber, completely obscuring the altar from view.

Through the encroaching haze, I could just discern a silhouette. The knights acted swiftly, forming a protective cordon around the King and the other high-ranking officials. This, I reasoned, must have been what my own arrival looked like to them. I vividly recalled the disorientation, the numbness, the overwhelming sensation of being surrounded by strangers in a hostile, alien environment. It was an undeniably harrowing experience for anyone. I hoped, for their sake, that the newcomers wouldn't make the same rash judgments I had.

From within the thinning fog came the first signs of life: a ragged cough, a grunt of pain, and the sound of heavy panting. So, they were indeed experiencing the same post-summoning shock.

But hold on. Was I hearing… only three distinct voices?

The fog finally receded enough to reveal the first figure. He was a young man, likely in his early twenties, kneeling on the cold stone floor. He was dressed in what appeared to be an expensive, dark blue business suit. His neatly groomed black hair was slicked back with pomade, and a pair of sharp, intelligent-looking glasses was perched on his nose. He projected the cool confidence of a rising corporate executive, an image utterly shattered by the blood spattered across his face and fine suit, and the handgun he clutched in a trembling grasp. He coughed violently, his face a mask of agony, like a killer reeling from the consequences of his own crime.

Moments later, a second silhouette took shape. This one was a woman—and a breathtakingly captivating one at that. She was sprawled upon the floor, clad in a seductive, nearly translucent negligee. Her lustrous, wavy black hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her skin was smooth and lightly tanned. Her figure was flawless, a bombshell physique that could dominate any beauty pageant, paired with a stunning face that could beguile any man. She was the very picture of feminine perfection, save for two crucial, jarring details. Her negligee was flecked with crimson, and she was clutching a blood-soaked knife. The raw sensuality of her posture was twisted into something sinister, giving her the aura of a devilish woman who had just slit a man’s throat. She moaned softly, hugging herself as if in terrible pain, the knife still gripped tightly in her hand.

The last of the trio to emerge was a walking calamity. He remained upright only because he was strapped to a heavy-duty transport dolly. The man was enormous, standing well over two meters tall, and bound within a multi-layered, gray straitjacket reinforced by a complex web of belts and latches. His long, unkempt, dark-gray hair was streaked with white, suggesting he was at least in his fifties, though it was impossible to be certain as his face was completely hidden by a heavy iron mask. His powerful, muscular limbs, like those of a professional wrestler, strained against their bonds, making him seem even more dangerous. To be restrained in such a state, he must have committed some truly unspeakable acts. He was the very definition of a psychopath. The only visible feature of his face, his piercing blue eyes, darted manically from side to side. He wasn’t moaning, but a harsh, erratic panting echoed from beneath the iron mask.

What an assembly. Forget heroes; these three practically screamed the word “criminal” at the top of their lungs.

Just as I concluded that the summoning was complete, another figure materialized from the final wisps of mist. I hadn't heard a single sound from that spot, nor had I sensed another presence at all.

This time, it was… another woman of stunning beauty. No, “stunning” was a profound understatement. “Goddess” was the only term that could adequately describe her magnificent appearance. She stood with an effortless grace that commanded my immediate and complete awe. Her hair was a cascade of long, straight, silky strands of a brilliant orange-gold, so vibrant it seemed to possess its own inner light. And it did—it was actually glowing softly. Her skin was a flawless, pearlescent white, and her face was a sculpted masterpiece that would humble any artist. The contrast between her incandescent hair and her elegant, bluish-white gown was utterly captivating. The woman and her attire were a perfect, divine combination. An appearance like that could throw any man’s mind into turmoil. If I were a normal man, my thoughts would have already melted into a reverent puddle.

Yet, there were no warning signs about this one. She didn't look like a warrior, at least not the type to battle monsters head-on. Perhaps, I mused, she was summoned to serve as a morale booster.

I glanced over at the King, who looked just as dumbfounded as everyone else. He caught my eye.

“Is this some sort of ‘buy one, get four’ special?” I asked, my voice laced with heavy sarcasm. “Congratulations on your four new Heroes, Your Majesty!”

“Four?” The King’s brow furrowed in confusion. He peered intently at the altar again, his eyes scanning the group of newcomers. He turned back to me, his expression shifting from confusion to raw irritation. “Four? What nonsense are you spouting? From any angle, there are only three people there.”

“Pardon me?” What was wrong with his eyes? Had the shock of the ceremony finally addled his brain? “One, two, three, four,” I counted deliberately, pointing with my chin. There were, without a shadow of a doubt, four individuals standing on the altar.

“Are you toying with me again?” the King snapped, his face a mask of anger, exasperation, and profound disappointment. “There are only three people there, no matter how one looks! And while summoning three at once is unprecedented, all of them positively reek of wickedness!”

His fury at having summoned more potential failures was palpable. But more importantly, I realized, he genuinely could not see the goddess-like woman.

…And as I considered it, the most striking thing about her wasn't just her ethereal beauty. It was that she showed no signs of pain, no disorientation, none of the crushing weight that came with being summoned from another world.

My gaze returned to her. Her perfect eyebrows were drawn together in a slight frown, and she was looking—more intently than at anyone else in the room—directly at me. Our eyes met.

The last of the mist cleared from the altar. And that is when I noticed it.

She was floating.