The late spring air of Tokyo carried the hum of traffic, the chatter of tourists, and the endless flicker of neon. A man in his mid-thirties trailed behind a group of students clutching shopping bags, his own cheap camcorder raised as if it were a holy relic.
“Yo, guys,” he muttered to a camera that would likely never see an audience, “day two in Japan, and I’m already broke. Akihabara is a cursed land too many figurines, too little wallet. Still… this is paradise.”
His name was Darryl Bautista, and he was nothing remarkable. An office worker from Manila, tired from years of late-night shifts and crowded commutes. He had saved and scrimped for this trip, his one escape. His life was average to the point of invisibility, but here among shelves of manga and glass cases of model kits he felt alive.He wasn’t handsome. He wasn’t strong. He wasn’t the protagonist of anyone’s story. But as he adjusted his camera and grinned into the lens, he thought: Maybe, just this once, I can pretend.Then the shouting began.
“Hey, watch out!”
His head jerked up. A truck thundered down the intersection, brakes screeching, horns blaring. In its path staggered a drunk man, oblivious, laughter bubbling from his lips.Darryl’s body moved before his brain could. He sprinted forward, arms out, shoving the stranger clear of the road.For an instant, he thought he’d made it.Then the man shoved back. Whether in panic or stupidity, Darryl never knew. The drunk stumbled to safety while Darryl stood frozen in the glare of chrome.The last thing he saw was the truck’s grille filling his vision.So this is how it ends? he thought bitterly. I still need to support my siblings. I still haven’t lived. I The world turned white.When Darryl opened his eyes again, he was floating in endless white space.A translucent blue screen flickered before him, cheerful text scrolling across.
[Welcome, Chosen One! Initializing Isekai Starter Kit…]
Darryl blinked. “Wait. What? No, hold on this is… this is that! The isekai setup! The truck actually no way! Am I really ”The screen ignored him, words flowing smoothly.
[Installing Growth System… Initializing Skills… Error.][Warning: Entity not in database.]
Another window popped. Then another. And another. The blue shifted to red as a flood of error screens stacked before his eyes.
[Error. Error. Error.]
“Hey, wait!” Darryl shouted, waving his arms. “Don’t just error out on me! I I can cook! I’m diligent! If you don’t want me, just send me home! No hard feelings!”The screens multiplied until the space glowed crimson.
[No possible resolution found.][Every calculation leads to failure.]
Darryl’s chest tightened. “So that’s it? I die again? Not even a second chance? You’re just… ignoring me?”For the first time, he felt more crushed by the silence than by death.Then, a deeper screen materialized, larger than the rest.
[Main Server Accessed.][Emergency Protocol: External Consultation Required.][Seeking input: Will of the Universe, Divine Tribunal, Administrators…]The red flickered back to blue.[Please wait…]Darryl curled into a ball, sobbing. “Waiting. Yeah. That’s all I ever do.”At last, the system returned.[Decision Reached.]
Darryl sat up quickly, dusting off his shirt out of instinct.A mechanical voice added dryly: Unnecessary. This space is always clean.He gawked at the screen. “Oh, now you respond? You ignore me when I ask not to die, but this is what you comment on?!”The text flickered politely.
[Unanimous Decision: Permit entity to reincarnate in the world of Gahat.][Role Assignment: Support Character.]
“Support?” Darryl repeated. “Wait like… side character? Background NPC?!”The screen scrolled on mercilessly.
[Entity will not suffer hunger or poverty. A safe life is guaranteed.][System privileges denied due to classification: Error.]Darryl’s jaw dropped. “So… no powers? No system? Just… just chores?”[Correct.]
He groaned, clutching his head. “I save one drunk guy, and this is my reward? You call me a bug, and then you dump me in paradise with no perks?!”
[Good luck in your new life.]
The floor beneath him vanished. Darryl fell screaming into a bottomless white pit.Warmth replaced emptiness.He blinked awake to a new world, lungs straining as he cried for the first time in a body not his own. Strong, calloused hands held him gently, lifting him toward the light.
The first face he saw was his mother’s.
Amorosa towered over the cradle, seven feet of half-giant, half-dwarf blood. Yet she wasn’t hulking or brutish like the stories of her kin. Her body was long and toned, shaped by years of hammering steel, her chestnut eyes glimmering with warmth. Dark bronze hair, tied back beneath a scarf to keep away the forge’s sparks, framed her freckled face. When she smiled, the freckles seemed to brighten too, making her beauty both striking and earthy. She was Lunyseria’s blacksmith, equal parts strength and grace, an Amazonian beauty in every sense.
Beside her stood his father, Liamme, tall and broad at six and a half feet, with a presence that made even plain clothes look princely. Though human, his handsome features carried an almost elven refinement. Dark silver hair fell neatly across his brow, a striking contrast to the pale locks his son now bore, while his sharp black eyes gleamed with focus the same eyes he used when setting jewels into intricate pieces of art. Lines had begun to mark his face, not from weariness but from smiling often, aging him like fine wine.
Amorosa’s chestnut gaze softened as she brushed her freckled cheek against the newborn’s head.“He looks like you, Liamme,” she whispered.The goddess was thanked, and the child was named Lyle.Years passed quickly. By day, Lyle toddled between forge and workbench, watching sparks fly and jewels gleam. By night, he listened to his mother’s stories and his father’s humming as they tucked him in.
Though his mind held thirty-five years of Darryl’s memories, the warmth of this family softened them. The bitterness of his old life faded beneath the laughter of neighbors and the smell of Amorosa’s bread pulled fresh from the oven.
He always practiced magic and swordsmanship, though neither ever answered his efforts. The other children teased him when he chanted spell after spell and nothing happened. Being called the “support hero” became a running joke, one he could only meet with a sheepish smile and a scratch of his head. Still, he learned to work hard, to shoulder heavy loads, to guide others when they faltered. Slowly, he became less Darryl of the past and more Lyle of the present.
At eight years old, he stood in the plaza with the other children, beneath the brilliance of the Aegisheart Crystal. When its light touched him, strength surged through his small body, raising him to the level of a seasoned adventurer. Not a profession yet that would come at fifteen, during the Heartforge Convergence but it was enough to mark him as part of Lunyseria’s tapestry.
He clenched his small fists, hope swelling in his chest. Maybe, just maybe, he could still dream.And now, seven years later, that day was only six months away. The Convergence loomed, and with it, his fate.
But for tonight, he was just Lyle of Lunyseria porter, guide, support.
And the story of how a background character became a villain in history’s eyes was about to begin.
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