CHAPTER 0 - PROLOGUE

My name is Kyo Tachibana. I’m sixteen. Until a few months ago, the most interesting thing about me was that I was from Tokushima and that I was kind of really good at standardized tests. But, in general, I was a normal guy. Hung out with friends, played some basketball and was an expert at not standing out. I liked my life.

Then I got a scholarship to a prestigious international high school in Tokyo and my definition of "normal" got thrown out the window.

Our class, 2-K, wasn't just a homeroom. It was a social experiment called the “Global Integration Program.” Basically an experiment where they tossed in students from every corner of the globe and hoped we’d spontaneously create world peace - or something like that.

And today, sitting at my desk a few minutes before the morning bell, it was just… loud. A low hum of at least four different languages filled the air.

“Kyo, my man! Heads up!”

I looked up just in time to catch a stray eraser thrown from across the room. Lucas Kondo gave me a lazy grin from his seat, where he was balancing his chair on its back two legs. “Sorry, dude. Trying to get Takumi’s attention.”

Takumi, who sat by the window, glanced back. He was a Japanese kid who’d spent his entire life in Australia and had only just moved "back" to a country he barely knew. His Japanese was textbook-perfect, but stiff, and his English had a distinct Aussie twang. He gave a small, unreadable smile, and turned away. I always found it interesting to notice how he was always existing in a quiet space between both cultures.

Oh, and the one being loud? That was Lucas for you. If raw charisma was a person, it would be him. Half-Japanese, half-Brazilian and one hundred percent the kind of guy you couldn’t help but watch. He wasn’t obnoxious about it; he just had presence. A natural shield for anyone lucky enough to be his friend. His twin sister, Bela, sat beside him, a perfect contrast. While Lucas was a bonfire, Bela was a quiet, steady flame, her focus entirely on the sketchbook in her lap, her pen dancing across the page.

“Honestly, Emma, it’s a pop quiz, not a life-or-death situation,” a sharp British accent cut through the noise. It was Olivia, casually scrolling through her phone.

Emma, the American daughter of an embassy bigwig, planted her hands on her hips. “A failure to prepare reflects a failure to respect the educational process!”

“Or,” Olivia countered, “it reflects a healthy work-life balance.” They were best friends, and no one, least of all me, understood why.

My eyes drifted to the corner, where the school’s unofficial power couple were living in their own world. That was Hana, from Korea, whose impossible grace sparked constant rumors that she’d turned down an idol trainee contract to finish school in Japan, and her boyfriend, Chen Yu. He was from Shanghai, the son of a tech billionaire who, legend had it, was a pro athlete before he ever started investing in startups - and Chen Yu definitely inherited the build. They shared a pair of earbuds, a perfect, quiet unit.
Nearby, Advik Patel was in his own universe, fingers tapping out a frantic, complex beat on his desk on a rhythm only he could hear. The few times we actually spoke was about a music festival happening soon and the possibility of scoring some free tickets.

This was my daily life. A classroom of prodigies, diplomats, artists, and fighters. And I was just the normal guy from the countryside, trying to keep up.

That’s when it happened. No warning. No alarm.

Just pain.

It started as a migraine behind my eyes, then spread like a chemical fire through my veins. A high-pitched whine filled the air, and the lights in the classroom didn’t just flicker - they bent. The world warped at the edges, colors bleeding into each other like wet paint.

Someone screamed. I think it was me.

It felt like my skin was being flayed, atom by atom. Like every nerve ending was a guitar string being plucked. I saw flashes, a chunk of the ceiling breaking loose and Lucas, without a moment's hesitation, throwing himself in front of Bela. I heard a sickening crack as debris hit him, but he barely grunted, a flicker of golden light disappearing from his back as he pushed her clear. The world dissolved into a vortex of agonizing light.

The last thing I remember is the feeling of being squeezed through an impossibly small crack in the universe.

And then... silence.

I woke up on cold stone. The smell of fire and ancient dust filled my lungs. My whole body screamed in protest, a weird agony echoing in my bones.

We were in a massive, circular chamber. The rest of Class 2-K was scattered around me, groaning, clutching their heads. At least we were all alive.

But we definitely weren't in Tokyo anymore.

Cloaked figures stood in a circle around us, their faces hidden in shadows. Dominating the far wall was a colossal mural depicting ancient warriors, all with black hair and fair skin, wielding swords of light against monstrous beasts. Like you would see in a history museum in Japan. "The Old Heroes."

One of the cloaked figures, an old man with a long white beard, stepped forward. He looked from the painting to us and his eyes widened in disbelief, a flicker of raw panic crossing his features.

“The sacrifice was made,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “The ritual was performed. But… who are you?” He gestured wildly at us - at Lucas’s tanned skin, at Emma’s blonde hair, at all of our different faces. “You are not… you are not all Nihonjin.”

As if summoned by his words, a faint light shimmered before my eyes. A translucent blue panel flickered into existence. Words began to form. I wasn’t the only one; all around me, my classmates were staring into the air with shocked expressions as their own status screens appeared.

But as I focused on mine, a cold dread unlike anything I’d ever known washed over me.

[CLASS: UNKNOWN] [STATUS: UNREGISTERED] [ERROR: ANOMALY DETECTED]

Before I could even process what it meant, a violent tremor shook the very foundations of the hall. A jagged crack splintered across the stone floor, starting from the center of the summoning circle. The air itself seemed to be tearing apart.

The old summoner stared at the growing fissure, his face a mask of horror.

“Gods above,” he choked out. “Not only it went wrong… It broke the summoning stone. There's no going back now.”