Tsumiya: [—Why... am I so exhausted... right now?]
The sensation that overwhelmed him was hard to put into words, far deeper and more penetrating than any known tiredness. It wasn't merely the fatigue of sleeping poorly or working to the limit; it was an absolute heaviness that seemed to have fused with his very bones, with the very marrow of his existence. Every muscle, every nerve in his body seemed to protest with a strange stiffness, as if he had remained motionless for entire weeks, or as if he had run an infinite distance while his mind rested. It was an exhaustion that went beyond the physical, as if his soul had been absent, traveling to unreachable planes, and was now returning with difficulty, heavy and clumsy, to inhabit his flesh once more.
Inside his skull, a dull, constant buzzing resonated like the distant sound of a swarm, an electric and annoying vibration that throbbed in unison with his heartbeat, hammering from within, pressing against his temples. Everything remained shrouded in a hazy darkness, blurry and indistinct, and his eyelids felt as heavy as if they were made of molten lead, requiring a superhuman effort just to try to separate them.
How long... have I been like this? Minutes? Hours? Or have entire days passed while I was gone?
Confusion was a thick, suffocating knot in his mind; his thoughts floated slowly, difficult to grasp and organize. He made an immense effort to move a finger, then a hand, and finally his entire body responded, slow, clumsy, heavy like a rusted machine. As he did, his senses sharpened all at once, and he felt the discomfort of his own clothes: the red and white sweatshirt he wore was so wrinkled it looked like old paper, soaked through and through with the gray dust and ancient grime of the old cabin he had been trying to clean before... before what? The fabric felt rough, damp with his own cold sweat in some areas, and terribly sticky in others, clinging to his skin with the unpleasant sensation of someone who has spent a long time without moving after a brutal effort.
And then, as he moved his head slowly, a small but curious detail caught his attention. He noticed a strange tightness in his scalp, right near his temple, a small area where the skin felt different, taut and somewhat rough. He clumsily raised a hand and ran his fingers over it: he felt an odd texture, as if a dry, slippery scab had formed over a wound that no longer hurt, but was still there. It was as if something had sealed itself hastily, a hard, almost waxy layer covering a blow that his memory could barely register. It was strange, without a doubt, but his mind was still clouded, dazed, and he simply filed it away as just another scratch, another consequence of the chaos of his arrival and his own clumsiness, brushing it off without realizing the true nature of that rapid regeneration.
Tsumiya: [—What... what happened...?]
He was cleaning, yes... he was sweeping, tidying up that dilapidated place so he could finally rest, so he would have a roof over his head. Everything was normal, or at least as normal as his life could be in this new world. And then suddenly... nothing. A total blackout. Complete darkness.
Memories began to flow then, not gradually, but like an overflowing torrent bursting through a dam. It wasn't just fainting. It was the void. That infinite blackness, terrifying and majestic at the same time, where time and space ceased to have meaning. And in the midst of that immensity, the light. That orb of hypnotic emerald green, vibrant, full of life and authority. And the voice. That arrogant, superior voice that called him "Sutsu", that bared his soul and spoke to him of desires, of contracts, and of universal laws that now belonged to him.
Tsumiya opened his eyes wide, finally breaking the last barrier of unconsciousness. His vision was still blurry, adjusting to the dusty gloom of the cabin, but his mind was already awake, alive and alert.
But beyond the headache, the dirty clothes, and the strange taste in his mouth, there was something else. Something that had no logical or physical explanation whatsoever.
Tsumiya slowly, almost fearfully, brought a hand to his own chest, placing his palm right over where his heart should be beating. There, at the very center of his being, he felt a subtle but undeniable difference. It didn't hurt, he felt no discomfort, but it no longer felt empty as before. It was as if something small, a kind of dense, warm, solid core, had lodged itself inside there, dormant, still and expectant. It was a strange sensation, as if his heart were no longer the only engine in his chest, as if a new gear, an invisible and perfect mechanism, had been installed inside him, turning in perfect synchronization with his own life.
Something had changed. It wasn't a visible transformation, he had no horns, no strange marks on his skin, nothing that could be seen with the naked eye. But he felt it in the depths of his being, in every cell, in every breath. It was as if his very existence weighed a little more, as if the shadow he cast on the ground was now a little denser, a little more real. That warmth in his chest was irrefutable proof, the indelible seal that what he had experienced in the abyss had not been a hallucination, nor a dream brought on by hunger or fear.
It was real.
An appendice attached to his soul... The greed that brought the angel down.
Tsumiya: [———?]
Absolute silence reigned in his thoughts, an instant of tense stillness where his mind processed the magnitude of what had occurred. He remained motionless, with his hand still resting on his chest and his face contorted by a mixture of confusion and amazement. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, his dark eyes blinked several times, lost in the dim light of the cabin, reflecting an almost tangible uncertainty. He didn't move, barely breathed, trying to accept that all of this had been real, that it hadn't simply been a hallucination caused by pain or fainting.
He remembered now. Everything was returning to his memory with painful clarity.
He had felt that presence before, that distant voice resonating deep within his being. But never like this. This time it wasn't just a feeling; it was a conversation. A deal. He had stood face to face, or rather soul to soul, with that emerald light that seemed to know him better than he knew himself.
And then, the conclusion hit him like lightning.
Tsumiya: [—Is this... what I think it is?]
If what that entity had promised him was true, then it meant the moment had arrived. The "skill" he had dreamed of for so long, that special power that would separate a simple human from a legendary protagonist, was no longer a distant promise.
Tsumiya: [—Has it already developed...? Is it already inside me?]
Excitement began to bubble up inside him, mixing with fear. His mind, trained by years of watching anime and reading web novels, began to speculate wildly, filling the silence with theories about what kind of divine gift he might have obtained.
Could it be something incredibly broken like "Creation of All Things"? Or maybe that classic skill "Analysis and Diagnosis" that allows you to see enemy stats and weaknesses? Or perhaps I can use magic without limits, have infinite mana like those protagonists who are tanks and heal everything? Or will it be something more offensive... like controlling fire, lightning, or maybe something rarer like manipulating space? I hope it's something super strong and flashy! Something that lets me become the strongest instantly!
Tsumiya briefly imagined raising his hand and making everything explode, or perhaps seeing a floating interface appear before his eyes filled with numbers and levels. Anything was possible. After all, he was the chosen one, the protagonist who had crossed to another world. His heart beat strongly, not just with life, but with the anticipation of knowing what kind of monster he had now become.
Tsumiya: [—And what if it actually is... What if it's actually the chance to become the ultimate hero... Maybe I can summon a legendary sword?]
Yes! That has to be it! It's definitely a sword! Not some cheap weapon or rusty iron, but a real legendary sword! One of those made from meteorites that fell from the sky thousands of years ago, or forged directly by the hands of the gods in divine flames, or perhaps a dark, cursed sword containing the soul of an ancient, evil dragon that roars every time you swing it! Something massive, impressive, with a golden hilt and jewels embedded in it, that shines with a blinding, holy light when drawn, illuminating all darkness and making the villains cover their eyes! I want a sword that cuts through the thickest steel like it's melted butter, that pierces any armor or magical defense effortlessly, and has a reach so long it cuts through the wind and space itself! And of course, it has to be a sword no one else can lift! Let all the strong knights and experts try to move it and fail, not even an inch, but then I arrive, touch it with my finger, and it comes out as light as a feather! I want everyone to gape, their eyes popping out of their sockets, saying 'Impossible! How can he be this strong?!' I want to be the only chosen one, the only one worthy of wielding that sword which chooses its own master, feeling its comforting weight in my hand and its spirit resonating with mine, becoming one to destroy all who stand before me!
The idea exploded in his mind like a supernova, illuminating every dark corner of his confusion. What if his ability wasn't something simple like throwing fire, healing wounds, or moving objects? What if it was something much grander, much more visual, something that screamed to the world that he was the absolute protagonist of this story.
Then... I want to be the luckiest person in the world! That must be my true passive skill! That absolute luck where treasures fall from the sky without me even looking, where I find legendary weapons lying on the ground as I walk, where money rains from the ceiling and gold mines appear under my feet! I want that luck where the most beautiful women, the kind that only exist in illustrations, with long hair and shining eyes—elves, warriors, mages, or princesses—fall madly in love with me the moment they see me! Let them fight over who gets to cook for me, who heals my wounds, and who stays by my side at night! I want them to blush when I speak to them, to constantly seek me out, and to be unable to live without my presence, forming a perfect harem where everyone gets along and adores me like a god! And of course, I want enemies to always underestimate me for being a weak human or an outsider, to laugh at me, and then I reveal my hidden power and crush them with a single blow, leaving them stunned! I want to always have an ace up my sleeve, to be the strongest without trying too hard, to have infinite mana or unlimited stamina so I can fight for days without getting tired! I want to be that protagonist who has the plot completely written in his favor, around whom the entire world seems to revolve, where everything works out in the end and coincidences always benefit me! I want to have everything I desire, infinite money, absolute power, the love of all the girls, and eternal glory, without having to suffer too much to get it, without losing arms or legs or having tragic things happen! I want to live comfortably, eating delicious food, sleeping in a soft bed, and surrounded by beauty! That is what I deserve after such a boring and miserable life! That is exactly what I want now that I am free in this new world!
Tsumiya: [—I want to be the luckiest! The one who has everything he wants falling from the sky! That must be my true skill! Supreme Luck!]
Tsumiya spoke in a whisper, almost a purr of anticipation, a manifestation of his previous thoughts, for the silence of the cabin was so thick he didn't need to shout for his words to resonate in his own mind. His expression changed completely: the confusion vanished, giving way to a serious, determined, almost solemn gaze, as if he were about to perform a sacred ritual.
(«Manifest yourself!»)
He commanded in his mind, extending his right arm forward, palm open and fingers tense, perfectly imitating that classic gesture he had seen thousands of times on screens and in books.
He waited.
He waited for the blinding light.
He waited for the resonant metallic sound.
He waited to feel the weight of a hilt magically appearing in his hand.
He waited again.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
... Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
There was no blinding light, no wind, no cold and comforting weight of a hilt in his hand. Only empty air and the same boring reality as always. His hand remained human, normal and ordinary.
...Nothing.
Not a glimmer, not a tremor, not the slightest indication that anything was happening. The air remained air, and his hand stayed empty, just as human and normal as always.
He frowned, slightly frustrated, but he didn't give up. He repeated the gesture, concentrating harder, gritting his teeth, visualizing with all his might a great sword materializing out of thin air.
Tsumiya: [—Come on, come on! Appear now, Sword of Creation or whatever you are!]
Second attempt... Nothing.Third attempt... Absolute silence.
Tsumiya slowly lowered his arm, and a new wave of confusion invaded him, this time mixed with slight panic. The warm sensation in his chest was still there, yes, but it felt more distant, as if it had stabilized and was no longer an active flame, but simply a part of him.
(«Why isn't it working? Do I need to do something else?»)
Tsumiya wondered, as his mind, trained in the genre, began to search for logical explanations within the irrationality. Does it have requirements? Maybe I have to be pure of heart? Or very virtuous? Or perhaps I have to save someone first to activate 'Hero Mode'?
The idea seemed fascinating and terrifying in equal measure. He loved the concept of Deus Ex Machina, that divine intervention where power appears exactly when all seems lost. He was fascinated by the idea that his ability wasn't always available, but rather something that only awakens in critical moments, when hope is on the brink of death.
Tsumiya: [—Ah! Now I understand! It's like a "Deus Ex Machina"! That's it! My skill isn't meant to be used whenever I want, it's meant for when destiny decides! It's a power that only awakens when the situation is absolutely desperate, when all is lost and there is no other way out! It's like a divine emergency button!]
A smile began to form on his lips, growing wider as he became more convinced by his own theory.
Tsumiya: [—It makes perfect sense! It's way more epic this way! If I could use it anytime, it would be normal, but like this... This way it's special! It's a power that waits for the exact moment to turn the tables in an instant! I love that concept! It's exactly the kind of broken and amazing ability I always wanted to have! So I just have to wait for the critical moment! When I truly need it, that's when the true form of my power will appear!]
Tsumiya crossed his arms, nodding to himself, convinced that he had found the correct answer. It wasn't that he was weak; it was that his power was too great and special to be wasted on trivial things. It was an emergency system, a trump card waiting for its opportune moment. And he, more than anyone, was eager to reach that moment and experience the feeling of being the chosen one.
Finally, making an effort to shake off the laziness and euphoria still bubbling in his head, Tsumiya stood up in one fluid motion, letting out a long sigh that seemed to crawl through his entire body. A look of fatigue crossed his face, that expression of resignation that appears when you have to come down from the clouds and set foot on solid ground again. He pushed aside those delicious fantasies of power and women for a moment, forcing himself to face the harsh reality with a much more critical and objective gaze.
The reality was that he was still inside that old, dilapidated cabin, a place that smelled of old wood and abandonment, and unfortunately, it was far from being presentable. The pile of junk, the dust accumulated over years, and the grime covering every surface were still there, reminding him that his task was unfinished.
And it wasn't just the place that was a mess. He looked down at himself and analyzed his appearance closely: his clothes were in a pitiful state. The red and white sweatshirt he wore, his favorite piece of clothing, now looked as crumpled as papier-mâché, damp in areas from his own cold sweat, and completely covered in a gray layer of dust and filth that had adhered to the fabric as if it intended to stay forever. The dirt from the floor had left clear marks on the seams and sleeves, giving him a messy and miserable look that contrasted horribly with the clean, heroic image he had just been imagining.
Even his pants weren't spared, marked with dark stains revealing where he had been rolling or sitting carelessly. His eyes traveled down to his feet: his white sneakers, although certainly splattered with mud and dust on the sides and soles, were at least in relatively decent condition. They were, without a doubt, the most acceptable and cleanest part of his entire outfit, a small bright spot amidst so much visual disaster, especially compared to how dirty and worn-out his sweatshirt looked now.
Tsumiya: [—Now that I think about it... I really have no idea what those two actually do...]
The momentary euphoria gave way to a colder, more analytical clarity of mind. As he sat there on the floor of the old cabin, his thoughts inevitably drifted towards the two people who had marked his day, from sunrise until now, when night had completely fallen, wrapping the forest in a silent, protective darkness.
Varzgax and Matthew.
They were the first friendly faces he had seen in this unknown world, the ones who had rescued him, fed him, and given him a roof to stay under. Tsumiya sighed softly, leaning his back against the wooden wall. He couldn't yet truly call them "friends"; he barely knew them, they had only shared a few hours together, and the cultural and worldly gap was immense. He didn't know their pasts, their true intentions, or even what they actually did for a living beyond what he had superficially seen.
However, despite his natural skepticism and a mind full of clichés about betrayal and deceit, he couldn't deny the reality: both of them had been incredibly kind to him. Even when he was lost, confused, unable to fully understand the language or the customs, or how life worked here, they didn't treat him like an annoying stranger, but rather as someone worth taking care of.
Tsumiya: [—I think... the most likely thing is that they are adventurers.]
Tsumiya stared into empty space, mentally analyzing the two figures now occupying his thoughts.
—Yeah, it makes perfect sense. Both of them possess a presence and physical condition far above what I consider normal. Varzgax with that brute strength and Matthew with that agility and skill... Their bodies have definitely been forged on the battlefield or through constant struggle. They are on a completely different level than I am right now. Besides, the way they interact, as if they've known each other forever, with that trust and slightly peculiar dynamic... It's exactly like the classic pair of companions who travel together!
Tsumiya scratched his chin thoughtfully, furrowing his brow slightly.
Tsumiya: [—Although... I can't be one hundred percent sure. After all, I still don't know how the social structure of this world works. Does the standard organization exist? Is there something like an "Adventurer's Guild" where they accept quests, earn money, and rank up? Or maybe they are mercenaries, or guards, or just wandering travelers... There are still too many unknowns.]
Tsumiya sighed, shrugging his shoulders with a mix of resignation and determination.
Tsumiya: [—Well, at the end of the day, maybe they are just two normal people and I'm the one seeing ghosts where there aren't any. But I can't let my guard down. I'm a protagonist who crossed worlds, a hero in the making... and in stories, conflicts always arise. If things go wrong, if there are betrayals or dangers, I'm the one who has to be ready to protect them and everyone else. That's my role!]
And then, his expression changed drastically, becoming much more mischievous and dreamy, as a wicked smile full of expectations spread across his lips.
—Of course... my long-term priority is more than clear. I have to push myself to the limit, break my boundaries, become strong, famous, and respected... all for one single, glorious purpose. To form the best possible party, the most perfect and, let's be honest, the most enviable one of all. And when I say the best, I don't exactly mean having the best tactics or the deadliest warriors... no. I obviously mean an exclusive company, a golden squad composed solely of beautiful women of every race imaginable in this world.
He paused, letting his imagination paint every detail in calm detail.
Tsumiya: [—Elves with long, elegant ears, looking at me with those wise and sweet eyes... short dwarves with incredible figures and strength that surprises everyone... beast-people with those adorable ears and tails that wag on their own when they're happy... mages who look delicate on the outside but can destroy everything within, warriors in shining armor with valiant hearts... all of them, absolutely every single one by my side. Following me, trusting me, admiring me...]
Tsumiya's voice dropped in tone, becoming almost a dreamy murmur, as a strange warmth rose to his cheeks, half excitement, half shyness.
Tsumiya: [—Me being their leader, their protector... the center of everything. Traveling together, living amazing adventures... and then, at the end of the day... the nights. Oh, the nights... Sleeping all together in the same room, huddled close, feeling the soft warmth of their bodies pressed against mine, the brush of their skin... or maybe finding a secret spring, hot springs where steam envelops everything and we can be relaxed, no armor or heavy clothes, chatting about nothing while the water caresses us...]
Tsumiya went blank for a second visualizing that, and suddenly he felt as if someone were watching him, a silly, sudden embarrassment running down his spine, making him feel that his own thoughts were far too bold.
(«Good grief, what am I even thinking»)
Tsumiya wondered for a brief instant, pausing for a couple of seconds, but without breaking the rhythm of his whispered fantasies.
Tsumiya: [—Sharing dinner, sharing laughter... and who knows, maybe over time... gaining their trust little by little. Moments alone, glances that say more than words... and eventually sharing something much more intimate, much more special and personal with each of them... Having my own paradise here on earth, being the only man surrounded by so much love and beauty... That is the true dream of any protagonist worth his salt. It... it's what having a special power really means... Heh heh... he...]
Tsumiya chuckled under his breath, sounding a bit more nervous and forced this time, unconsciously scratching the back of his neck, embarrassed by his own explicit desires but still wanting them with all his might.
But in an instant... Tsumiya felt a gentle rhythm flow through his body, as if he were the conduit between two dependent connections.
Tsumiya: [—Huh?... What is this?]
Tsumiya closed his eyes and focused inward, scanning his own internal state.
Tsumiya: [—Strangely enough... I feel different. Just a moment ago I felt like my bones were made of lead and my head was going to burst, but now... I feel the heaviness fading away. It's not like I've recovered all my energy instantly, it's not an overwhelming difference that makes me feel invincible, but it's undeniable. My body feels lighter, fresher. The extreme exhaustion is retreating at a speed that really shouldn't be normal.]
Tsumiya placed a hand over his chest, feeling that warm core now seemingly working silently.
Tsumiya: [—I see... So this is the proof... Is this how my power manifests?]
Tsumiya fell into thought for a moment, unsure what to make of the strange sensation he was now feeling.
Tsumiya: [—So it has a permanent passive skill... Automatic fatigue and physical status recovery? Honestly, I don't understand how the ability works at all yet, but I can wait for it to fully manifest... It seems like a really good passive skill; it would be great to come up with an original name for it.]
Tsumiya paused, patting his own cheeks to bring his attention back to his surroundings.
Tsumiya: [—Alright... enough daydreaming and getting lost in fantasies. For now, the most sensible thing is to get back to reality and finish what I started. I need to get this place decent before it gets too late.]
Tsumiya spoke to himself in a low voice, almost a murmur lost among the wooden walls, mentally forcing himself to come down from the clouds and land back on the dusty floor of the cabin. He shook his head slightly, as if that could shake off the last remnants of those embarrassing yet exciting thoughts he had just had.
Tsumiya: [—I still have quite a bit left to do, honestly. I haven't finished sweeping this entire room properly, and the floor is still full of dust and old dirt... though, thinking about it, at least the mattress and bed area are more or less clean and usable now. That's something, at least.]
Tsumiya stood up carefully, feeling his muscles complain slightly from stiffness, and unconsciously brushed his clothes with his hands. However, the gesture was useless: his red and white sweatshirt was still terribly dirty, stained with marks from the floor, impregnated with both dry and damp dust, and with that unpleasant sensation of sweaty, cold fabric sticking to his skin from having been lying on the old planks for so long. He felt grimy and a bit smelly, but he decided to ignore it for the moment.
Tsumiya dragged his feet slightly as he walked over to where the broom had been left abandoned, lying on the ground exactly where it had slipped from his hands the very moment he lost consciousness while working. He picked it up gently, gripping the wooden handle firmly, and tapped it lightly to shake off the dust.
He looked around with a new determination appearing in his eyes.
Tsumiya: [—And well... since I'm here and I've been given this second chance, I can't be useless. Starting tomorrow, I'm going out to help the village with whatever I can. I have to be useful, earn my place, and not just be a burden to others or to the people who have helped me. Besides...]
Tsumiya's tone of voice changed subtly, his gaze becoming more determined in that somewhat intimidating expression his face often held.
Tsumiya: [—I need to start moving, using my body, and understanding this world. I can't just stand around waiting for things to happen. The most important thing right now is to figure out how the hell all this works, I have to learn to activate my skill, to feel it and control it, because I won't get anywhere just sitting around waiting for a miracle.]
With that firm resolution, Tsumiya began to move the broom again, dragging the bristles across the wooden planks and gathering the dust, cobwebs, and grime accumulated over who knows how long into piles. As he worked, vague memories of what he had been told resurfaced in his mind. Lyson had mentioned before that, until just a few weeks ago, this used to be a peaceful spot where the village children came to play. However, everything changed suddenly. They started talking about strange shadows, dark silhouettes moving where they shouldn't, and little by little, fear did its work. The children stopped coming near, and now the entire hill where this cabin stood had fallen silent, forgotten and avoided by everyone.
Tsumiya: [—Kingdom of Astelford... Hyulkran Forest.]
Tsumiya spoke those two words very softly, with an unusual gentleness, almost as if he were tasting the names or engraving them into his memory. He paused for a moment, broom suspended in the air, letting reality sink in. The little he had managed to learn about the geography of this new world could be summed up in a short sentence: he was currently in the Kingdom of Astelford, specifically in the region known as the Hyulkran Forest. And... well, he also knew that rainbow-colored lizards existed around here. A trivial fact, no doubt, but "Points for the Japanese office worker's intelligence!", he thought ironically, feeling slightly smarter for knowing at least that much.
(«I can't just stand here... I have to keep going. Although... maybe when I'm done with this, I'll go for a short walk before heading to bed. A bit of fresh air would do me good»)
That idea crossed his mind naturally, and without saying anything else, he continued sweeping steadily. It was curious, even to him. In his past life, back in Japan, his room had always been a mess, disorganized and dirty ever since he was a child, and he had never cared much about cleaning. But here, in the middle of nowhere, sweeping an old, unfamiliar floor, he felt a strange need for order, to leave everything spotless, as if by cleaning the place he were also organizing the thoughts that now flooded his mind.
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