Chapter 5: First Steps into Another World

A hundred years had passed, and the battle between Rina the Demonlord and the goddess Veyra's followers still raged.

During this time Rachel had grown strong. She had slain many heroes and an uncountable number of angels.

The goddess’s curses had backfired; instead of causing the child to suffer, they forged her into something greater, granting her a massive resistance to pain and the strength to endure.

Now, she breached one of the goddess Veyra’s cities where the goddess precious prayer temples stood.

 These temples stored the devotion of worshipers—each prayer fueling the statue, which the goddess used to summon heroes and magnify her own power. Today Rachel had breached the city and approached the temple.

Angel guards cried out:

“The cursed child is approaching! She must not reach the temple!”

But a single swing, the charging angels were scattered across the ground.

The cursed whispers still coiled in Rachel’s mind: Don’t just stop at the guards. Look at all the people around. So much fresh meat—let me sink my teeth into them.

Rachel turned briefly toward the townsfolk, but held back, resisting the temptation and the sword’s dark urges.

She redirected her focus to the temple, cutting down every enemy in her path.

Upon entering, she saw the glowing statue at the back—and before it, a fully armored angel stood as its last protector.

Rachel advanced, while the goddess watched, knowing what would become of all her stored power within the prayer statue.

The goddess Veyra raged in her sanctuary as she watched the soon to be loss of one of her statues.

“Damn that tainted spawn. I should have just killed her back then. What should I do?”

She paused, then spoke to the air with a sudden idea.

“Brother Deymor, I have a favor to ask of you.”

Deymor’s voice answered, weary. “I cannot help you. My world is already suffering, and not even from a true Demon Lord. I have drained my power greatly by summoning two heroes.”

Veyra pressed, “Then how about a third hero? I can guarantee she will be useful. She and her mother have devastated my world.”

Deymor replied, “I don’t have enough power to force-summon another hero.”

Veyra smirked. “Then I will help. I am about to lose one of my prayer statues. I will lend you power enough to summon her as a hero. You will gain a new pawn, and my statue will be preserved. It will benefit us both. What do you say?”

Deymor hesitated. “But she is with the Demon Lord. How will I compel her to follow my orders?”

Veyra’s smile deepened. “Her father is from your world. Lie to her—that should be motivation enough.”

After a long pause, Deymor relented. “Fine. But if this backfires, do not expect help from me again.”

“That’s fine,” Veyra answered, satisfied. “Getting rid of her will be enough.”

Then Veyra looked back at the battle, her angel on its knees as the goddess spoke through it, stalling Rachel until the power could be transferred to Deymor so he could summon her as a hero.

Rachel stood before the kneeling angel, its body bound by thorny roots. The angel sneered and spat cruel words:

“Don’t think you’ve won, tainted spawn. I will soon deal with you, just as I dealt with your father.”

Rachel didn’t bother to reply. With a single swing, the angel’s head fell to the floor.

She then approached the goddess’s statue and raised her sword, ready to strike with all her might.

But mid swing a blinding light engulfed her. She collapsed, hitting the ground, then staggered back to her feet, sword drawn, bewildered as she looked around, wondering where she had been taken.

Before her stood a striking man with long black hair and golden eyes. He spoke with calm authority:

“Welcome. You have been chosen as a summoned hero. I, Deymor, have called you because my world is in need of help.”

Rachel answered harshly, “I refuse. Send me back. I have a war to finish.”

Deymor continued, “That cannot happen. I used the last of my strength to summon you here and to grant you a hero’s power. Until the Demon Lord is slain and I recover my strength, you will remain in my world.”

Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t trust gods after what you’ve done to me.”

As he studied her, Deymor realized she was cursed, and that her armor and weapons had crossed worlds with her.

Inwardly he cursed: Damn sister. She tricked me. What am I to do with a woman bound in curses, her armor tied to her very soul? I lack the strength to remove it. Then, after a pause, he thought of something. A hero power shaped by those dormant curses, something unique to fit my world.

“I will grant you your hero ability, one tailor-made for your situation.” A dark, cursed light appeared in his hand. He shaped it, then sent it flying into Rachel. She staggered as it surged through her body.

“What did you do?” she demanded, sword leveled at him.

“I have granted you a hero ability. It is called Cursed Assimilation,”

Deymor explained. “The world I send you to is filled with mechanical monsters and fiends spawned endlessly by the Demon Lord’s factories.

This power will let your cursed armor absorb technology from the creatures you slay, making it stronger and more versatile. The curses bound within you will fuel the armor, for there is no mana in my world. When your reserves run dry, only that armor will sustain you.”

Rachel shook her head. “I told you already—I won’t help you.”

Deymor smirked. “Is that so? Are you certain? What if I told you this is your father’s home world—and that the Demon Lord holds him now, a test subject cut open again and again, cruel experiments seeking the secret of his ability. You could save him.”

Rachel’s breath caught. Slowly, she reached under her armor and drew out a necklace. Attached to it was a metal case. She opened it, revealing her father’s driver’s license—the only picture she had of him. She stared at it for a long time, then whispered, “I will help. But only on one condition.”

Deymor’s golden eyes gleamed. “And what would that be?”

“When I defeat the Demon Lord, you must send my father back with me. If you agree, I will give you everything I have.”

“I can do that,” Deymor said smoothly. “But know this: he does not have long. Humans age quickly. His end draws near.”

Rachel’s face fell, sorrow in her eyes. “Fine. I accept. Send me down.”

“The Demon Lord waits beyond Yggdrasil. Your journey will be long and hard. Seek the aid of the other heroes along the way.

Now go.” Deymor snapped his fingers, and a portal opened. Rachel gave it one last look, then leapt through.

Left alone, Deymor smiled darkly. “This should be entertaining. I won’t be bored for some time.”

Then the portal opened and Rachel crashed to the ground.

She looked around and froze, confusion flooding her as she took in the scene. Surrounding her were silver-skinned goblins that gleamed like forged metal, their jagged teeth and claws razor sharp.

Beyond them, perched atop a crumbled building, loomed a massive dragon, its body plated in the same metallic sheen. None of them moved—their stillness statue-like—yet their eyes glowed red, beams of light pulsing through the cracks of their armored exteriors. The lights flickered rhythmically, as though all of them were focused on some unseen signal.

Taking advantage of their eerie stasis, Rachel leapt over the goblins and bolted, sprinting as fast as she could until she slipped into the shadow of a half-collapsed building, crouching low to watch and wait for what would happen next.

She thought to herself, What’s going on? I thought this was a different world. Why are there goblins and a dragon here? From the stories Mother told me, which she heard from Father, the only monsters in his world were other humans . Did I get sent to the wrong place?

As she watched, the portal finally closed.

A few moments later the pulsing lights on the dragon and goblins steadied, becoming solid red.

Then, as if nothing had happened, they began to move again—the dragon spreading its wings and flying off while the goblins shuffled about aimlessly.

Then something touched her shoulder. She turned and saw a young woman who whispered, “Keep quiet and follow me. I was sent to bring you to the settlement. Now come.”

Rachel looked at the girl—no older than twelve—and decided to trust her. She followed, taking her first steps into her journey in another world.