Prologue: Birth of a hero

Hello, everyone! I am Futaro Yukimichi, an ordinary Japanese schoolboy... although, perhaps, not so ordinary. As a child, I loved watching anime about heroes who saved the world. They were all respected and adored, so I tried to emulate them. I don't remember exactly when, but I decided to become the main character. And this dream became the meaning of my life.

From the age of six, I enrolled in various clubs: karate, drawing, singing, and many others. Each time, I became better... more perfect. But at the same time, I tried not to stand out. Society is quite cruel: people like me quickly become outcasts. Living with childhood dreams is shameful, because people grow not only physically, but also morally and psychologically.

When I turned sixteen, I realised that everything I had been doing didn't make much sense. So I learned to fight well — so what? Maybe I'll protect some beauty from hooligans in an alley. But if they have firearms, one bullet and I'm a corpse, not a hero.

What about painting? Will I ever create a masterpiece worth millions of dollars and become the next Leonardo da Vinci? Unlikely. What about singing? So I can sing well — so what? You can't save the world with a beautiful voice, and you won't become a hero.

Will my dream remain just a dream?

That’s what I wondered… until one night I decided to go to the convenience store for a snack so I wouldn’t starve—and died anyway.

I died miserably of a simple heart attack. Everything I worked for in my life stopped in an instant.

I lay on something hard, a snack bag still in my hand. It felt like I’d become the protagonist of some isekai novel. So… if I’m the hero in an isekai, a beautiful goddess with DD-cup breasts should appear any moment to summon me and send me off to save another world from the “Dark Lord.”

Lifting my head, I saw a throne. On it sat a man in a business suit, calmly sipping tea. A white-haired beauty with black-painted nails. Wait—is this tagged “yaoi,” and am I the main character of a yaoi novel?

“Hey, Fuutarou! How’s life?” he asked, barely suppressing a laugh.

“Decided to join the circus?”

“You don’t get jokes?”

“If you were a goddess, I’d be laughing for sure. But…”

“No clichés today, sorry,” he replied calmly. “But I am God Void, and I need your help.”

“Help?”

“Exactly. In my world there are twenty elemental orbs. You can absorb each one, and they’ll dissolve into your soul. Once you’ve collected all twenty, bring them to me. Understand?”

“I suppose so,” I answered quietly.

“Then please, sit and sign the contract. It will bind us in alliance.”

I sat across from him. A parchment and a needle appeared on the table.

“Read it. If you agree, prick your thumb and leave your print.”

“So I’ll be reborn into a magical world, receive part of your mana, and have thirty years to gather twenty orbs?”

“Correct. If you fail, your soul will scatter into nothingness.”

“Understood.”

I had worked hard my entire life, always dreaming of being the main character. And now the day had come! Finally, the world would look up to me and draw inspiration from me. Without hesitation, I pricked my finger and pressed down my print.

The contract burst into flames—but… I wasn’t whisked away to another world.

“Something’s b—”

Before I could finish, tea splashed across my face. Then a brilliant light pierced through my closed eyelids and…

I was reborn into a new world—as a newborn baby.

The fact that I was reborn as a child is more of a plus than a minus. I will be able to spend my growing-up years training to control mana and magic. Also, it's a much easier start than starting out as an adult in the middle of a medieval market with no money in my pocket.

By the way, my new parents. My mother was surprisingly beautiful: her black hair cascaded down her shoulders, and her gaze was gentle and warm. She looked young, only about twenty-five years old.

Next to her stood my new father, a tall man with dark grey eyes and a stern face. His black hair was already slightly grey.

I also noticed a small child, a girl of about three years old. She looked very much like my new mother, only smaller. She seemed like a miniature copy of my mother. She was my older sister.

From this moment on, I have thirty years to find the spheres of the elements.

My life was quite boring. I was born with a lot of mana into the wealthy Seido family of counts. My family ranks ninth in influence in the entire kingdom.

I guess now I should tell you about my family. Okay... where to start?

Mother: Eris Seido.

Formally, my father is considered the head of the family, but everyone understands that the real power belongs to my mother. She controls not only the finances, but also the county itself. She can be described in one word: demoness. Although, no, that's not entirely true. She can be sweet, charming, and even gentle when necessary. But behind this mask lies cold calculation. She demands discipline, tolerates no nonsense, and always gets her way. I've seen servants tremble at her gaze, and even my father sometimes averts his eyes when she is angry. But, strangely enough, there is something about her that commands respect even in moments of fear.

Father: Kero Seido

He was once the hero of this county. People sang songs about him, remembered his exploits and battles. But then he met my mother... and put his sword on the shelf. Now he is a quiet shadow of his former glory. He is not usually interested in politics or intrigue, preferring to play or teach me. I can see that he truly loves my mother, even when she turns him into an obedient husband. And it is probably for her and my sister that he gave up his former life. 

Sister: Katerina Seido

My older sister is three years older than me. She is the official heir to the county, the future countess. And, to be honest, she is the only one who is scarier than my mother. She is beautiful, intelligent, strong and ambitious. She studies with the best mentor on the estate and already knows how to use magic.

“Sir, dinner’s served,” Lilia’s soft voice drifted in from beyond the door. 

“Thank you, Lilia. I’ll be right there,” I replied.

She was my personal maid. My mother employed eight, my father six, my sister three—yet my family decided I only needed one. Her name was Lilia, and she was exactly the kind of maid you spot in the background of hero tales: modest, silent, and forever busy.

I had just turned seven. The days felt longer now that history was repeating itself. Mornings—lessons in etiquette; afternoons—horseback riding, piano, foreign languages, and bookkeeping; evenings—painting and fencing. I already knew most of these skills from my past life, but I never let on that I’d mastered them. Bragging wasn’t my style.

Seido County would pass to Catherine when she turned seventeen. Perfect—ruling these lands would only interfere with my own plans.

Honestly, I was glad my family didn’t pin lofty expectations on me. It granted me freedom. While everyone fussed over my sister, I quietly worked on my own schemes and goals.

“My dear, they’ve declared our county the safest in the kingdom!” Mother burst into the room, eyes shining.

I was midway through a chess game with Father. It was his favorite pastime—and, truth be told, mine as well. I usually lost, but sometimes he deliberately sacrificed a piece so I could claim victory and stay interested. 

“Excellent. We should reward the guards with a bonus—they’ve done well this month,” Father said.

“Of course. But we’re summoned to the capital. We must depart this evening to arrive by midday.”

There you have it—the fruits of my labor. Could anything be more satisfying than cleansing my own county of bandits in a fantasy world?

Each night, I slipped out of the manor and rode to nearby villages to rescue the farmers. Monsters were scarce in our lands, but bandits were rampant. They became my prime targets.

Now it’s time to show you the magic of this world.

There are three kinds of magic here: innate, basic, and acquired. They complement one another, allowing you to create astonishing feats.

Take my sister, for example. She has perfectly honed the innate magic of our bloodline. Her ability is called “Eye of the Storm.” With her left eye, she can release a small burst of mana that amplifies basic spells like telekinesis—extending its range and lifting heavier, bulkier objects. She trained so relentlessly that she learned to use this power for longer durations without serious consequences.

What kind of consequences? Total blindness… or even losing the eye entirely. Haha, just kidding. In reality, it’s only severe hemorrhages, since mana particles are tied to the bloodstream.

Of course, not everyone in the world is born with innate magic. My mother, for instance, has none—her parents weren’t gifted either. Pretty unfair, right?

Well then, now I’ll show you basic magic in action.

This is the bandits’ main camp, where all the scum of the county gather. Charging in and slitting throats would be too mundane, so I decided to make it more… epic.

I draped myself in a black hooded cloak and donned a mask covering the lower half of my face. Stepping into the camp, I felt dozens of eyes on me—probably thinking, “Wow, what a stylish bandit.”

I entered the bar. Inside, rough laughter echoed among burly men, and the stench of cheap liquor hung in the air. I looked like a schoolboy against that backdrop—because I was, in fact, a seven-year-old. I approached the bar counter.

“Hot milk, please,” I said in a low, slightly grandiose tone.

The bartender shot me a sideways glance that clearly read: “A child? In a bandit den?” A bandit slid onto the stool next to me, followed by two burly thugs.

“Kids aren’t allowed,” he smirked. “You know what we do to kids here?”

I braced for a classic bar fight—definitely not on my bucket list.

“Didn’t see the sign?” he taunted.

“It says no entry for women,” I replied coldly. “You’re the only rule-breaker.”

“You calling me a woman?” he snarled.

“I’m just speaking plainly.”

His face contorted with rage. One of the thugs grabbed my shoulder—but at that moment, the bartender set the milk before me. I seized the glass, flipped it back, and soaked him in the face. He shrieked like a little girl.

The bandit beside me was hurled across the room—basic magic: telekinesis. Mana is produced in the brain, flows to the heart through mana vessels, and then radiates throughout the body. Telekinesis manipulates micro-particles of mana controlled by the mind. More particles mean more power. I used about eight thousand to send him flying.

The second thug received a crushing elbow to the gut. Under normal circumstances, a blow from a seven-year-old wouldn’t be fatal, but I had bolstered my strike with the basic magic “Enhancement,” turning that elbow into a catastrophe. He doubled over and screamed like a child.

Chaos erupted inside: bandits pounded each other, tables went flying, and the bartender cowered behind the bar. I stepped outside—and came face to face with four sword-wielding bandits. I was unarmed.

“Seriously?” I sighed.

There are three kinds of magic in this world: innate, basic, and acquired. They work together, enabling wonders beyond imagination.

For example, my sister has perfected the innate magic of our bloodline. Her ability is called “Eye of the Storm.” With her left eye, she can unleash a small burst of mana that enhances basic spells like telekinesis—extending its range and lifting heavier, bulkier objects. She trained so relentlessly that she learned to wield this power longer and without severe side effects.

What kind of side effects? Total blindness… or even losing the eye entirely. Haha, just kidding. In truth, it’s only intense hemorrhaging, since mana particles are bound to the bloodstream.

Of course, not everyone is born with innate magic. My mother, for instance, has none—her parents were also devoid of magical gifts. Quite unfair, isn’t it?

Well then, let me demonstrate basic magic in action.

This is the bandits’ main camp, where all the scum of the county gather. Simply storming in and slitting throats would be too mundane, so I decided to make it more… epic.

I threw on a black hooded cloak and a mask covering the lower half of my face. As I stepped into the camp, dozens of bandits stared—no doubt thinking, “What a cool, stylish fellow.”

I entered the bar. Inside, raucous laughter filled the air, burly men guffawed over cheap liquor, and I looked every bit the schoolboy I was—a seven-year-old. I strolled up to the counter.

“Hot milk, please,” I said in a low, slightly theatrical voice.

The bartender shot me a sideways glance that clearly read: “A kid? In a den of bandits?” A roughneck slid onto the stool beside me, followed by two hulking thugs.

“Kids aren’t allowed,” he sneered. “You know what we do to kids here?”

I steeled myself for a classic bar brawl—definitely not on my to-do list.

“Didn’t see the sign?” he taunted.

“It says no entry for women,” I replied coolly. “You’re the only rule-breaker.”

“You calling me a woman?” he snarled.

“I’m speaking the truth.”

His face twisted in rage. One of the thugs grabbed my shoulder—but at that instant, the bartender placed my milk before me. I seized the glass, flipped it backward, and drenched him in one smooth motion. He shrieked like a frightened child.

The thug next to me was hurled across the room—basic telekinesis. Mana is generated in the brain, travels through mana vessels to the heart, and then permeates the body. Telekinesis manipulates micro-particles of mana under the mind’s command. More particles mean greater force. I used roughly eight thousand particles to send him flying.

The second thug took an elbow to the gut. A blow from a seven-year-old wouldn’t usually be fatal, but I had boosted my strike with the basic spell “Enhancement,” turning that elbow into a disaster. He doubled over and howled in pain.

Chaos erupted. Bandits slammed into one another, tables toppled, and the bartender dove behind the counter. I stepped outside—and came face to face with four sword-wielding bandits. I was unarmed.

“Seriously?” I sighed.

I ripped a rusted drainpipe from the wall by telekinesis and began parrying their blows. Metal rang and sparks flew. One went down clutching his fingers, another buckled at the knees. But with every thug I felled, two more advanced.

It felt like I was cornered. No—actually, they had cornered themselves.

I raised my hand. Pebbles and scraps of metal lifted into the air. I hovered half a meter above the ground. In my palm burned a dark violet sphere—concentrated mana. It pulsed and drew in the surrounding air.

“Want to know what this is?” I snarled. “This is the power of a black hole.”

The bandits froze. One dropped his sword, another nearly fainted, and someone wet their trousers.

“Kneel and bow your pathetic heads before the One-Eyed Dragon!”

I squeezed the sphere. In the next instant, the camp exploded. The blast ripped trees from the ground, leveled buildings, and sent a shockwave so fierce it must have reached the capital.

Job done. Now to head home. I turned back—but an overturned cart caught my eye. Barrels of wine and, best of all, gold. I’d leave the wine and junk for the guards to distribute to the villagers… but the gold was mine.

As I approached, I noticed something else. Amid the gold and debris lay a small, unconscious body—an elf girl. She was bruised, wounded, and utterly defenseless.

A choice lay before me: gold or the girl. But as a hero, I couldn’t leave her to fate. I scooped up the coins into a small pouch, then lifted the elf girl and carried her to an abandoned settlement near the palace.

I laid her on a dusty bed and turned to what mattered most: appearance. A hero must look heroic. People meet by attire and part by character. I tried several poses before settling on the classic: arms crossed over my chest, gaze fixed on the horizon. I stood like that until dawn, my patience wearing thin, then fetched water to rouse her.

No sooner had I cracked the door than I heard a faint, trembling voice:

“Who… are you?”

My heroic moment shattered. Thanks a lot.

“I am the One-Eyed Dragon, vanquisher of evil, demons, and titans,” I declared grandly.

“Demons?” she murmured, bewildered as if I spoke another language.

“Yes! Those same demons that destroy empires—immortal beings brimming with hatred. I battle them to end this endless cycle of suffering.”

“That’s… cool,” she said softly, genuine warmth in her voice.

I pressed on.

“To defeat them, I gather the elemental orbs. Only I can harness their power. Will you join me as my partner and help save this world?”

A spark lit in her eyes. Of course my tale was pure fiction—I couldn’t exactly admit I spent my nights brawling with bandits.

“I will help you… even if it costs my life,” she vowed, touching my hand. A surge of mana passed into her, sealing our bond.

“By the way, what’s your name?”

“I… don’t remember,” she answered shyly.

“Then I’ll call you Freya. How does that sound?”

“F-f-Freya?” she smiled. “That’s a beautiful name.”

From then on, she made the settlement her home. I couldn’t bring her to the palace—how would I explain that to my parents?

Three years passed, and my organization, the Dragons, grew by five members—thanks entirely to Freya’s kindness. She collected strays like a stray kitten in need of shelter.

First came Sonya, a cat-girl we rescued during a slaver caravan raid—she was the only surviving captive. Next was Nika, the oldest of our recruits at thirteen, brilliant despite lacking innate magic. Then Luisa, a witch we freed from her abductor’s grasp—our sole “emigrant.” Alice joined by pure chance; she still doesn’t quite know why she’s here… and honestly, neither do I.

Finally, the key member: Otto—the only man in our all-female realm. Freya brought him along out of pity but convinced me he’d be useful. Someone has to do the heavy lifting and chop firewood, after all.

Truth be told, my “organization” looks more like a refuge for lost kittens than the world-saving fellowship of mighty heroes.