Chapter 1 -The Hero For The Forgotten

For one impossible second, Enshin felt weightless.

He was not falling.

He was not flying.

He was simply—

Gone.

The ground beneath him vanished in a violent flash of light. Pressure closed around his body from every direction, squeezing the air from his lungs as something pulled him through a space that could not possibly exist.

Sound stretched into a long, metallic shriek.

His stomach lurched.

His arms drifted away from his sides.

Then the world returned all at once.

Stone trembled beneath him.

A blast of displaced air ripped through an underground chamber, throwing dust from the floor and sending every torch flame whipping sideways. Loose pebbles rattled from the ceiling. Someone shouted. Wood scraped against stone. The thunderous impact rolled through distant tunnels before returning as a faint echo.

Enshin landed on both knees in the centre of a glowing circle.

His palms slapped against cold rock.

His ears rang.

For several seconds, he could hear nothing except the heavy pounding of his own heart.

He remained there with his head lowered, his shoulders rising and falling as his body tried to remember how to breathe.

The light beneath him pulsed once.

Then again.

Its strange symbols began fading into the stone.

Enshin opened his eyes.

Grey rock filled his vision.

Not carpet.

Not timber flooring.

Not the familiar scratches and stains of his room.

Stone.

Actual stone.

His fingers slowly curled against it. Grit pressed beneath his nails. The surface was cold, rough and slightly damp.

Real.

He raised his head.

A jagged ceiling hung high above him, darkened by years of smoke. Torches burned inside iron brackets hammered directly into the walls. Their flames painted the chamber in restless amber light.

Old wooden supports reinforced parts of the cavern.

Crates were stacked along one side.

Bedrolls occupied another.

Strangers surrounded him.

Everyone in the chamber wore some version of the same colour—amber cloth tied around a wrist, stitched onto a sleeve or hanging from a belt like a crude insignia.

Their faces were weathered rather than theatrically wicked. These were not storybook villains with black teeth and matching scars. They looked like people who had endured too many difficult days and learned how to survive every one of them.

But they were armed.

Enshin counted at least twelve adults in the main chamber.

Two stood near the entrance behind him.

One leaned against the supply crates with a hand resting close to a short blade.

Another waited near the far wall with an actual crossbow.

A few more figures moved through distant passages, although the poor light prevented him from seeing them clearly.

Their weapons were mismatched, repaired and ugly as sin.

The people holding them knew what they were doing.

No one here looked as though they would mistake him for a hero.

Enshin stared at them.

They stared back.

The ringing in his ears gradually weakened.

A torch crackled.

Smoke drifted towards the ceiling.

Someone shifted their footing.

Enshin’s gaze snapped towards the sound.

Leather boots.

Rough trousers.

A sword.

A real sword.

His gaze travelled along its battered scabbard before darting towards the faint light beneath his knees.

The symbols were still there.

A circle.

A magic circle.

An actual magic circle.

His breathing stopped.

“No way.”

The words barely left his mouth.

He looked at the torch again.

Then the weapons.

Then the strange clothes.

Then the cave.

His expression slowly changed.

Confusion gave way to recognition.

Recognition became disbelief.

Disbelief became wonder.

Wonder swelled into something dangerously close to pure joy.

“No way,” he whispered again.

His fingers dragged across one of the fading symbols, as though touching it might prove that his brain had finally snapped.

It remained beneath his hand.

Cold light.

Strange writing.

Magic.

“No way, no way, no way…”

One of the armed men glanced uneasily at another.

Enshin barely noticed.

He pushed himself upright too quickly. His balance faltered for half a step, and his arms shot out before his feet settled beneath him.

The familiar drag of his training weights tugged at his wrists, ankles and torso.

He looked down.

The straps were still there.

Gym shorts.

Battered shirt.

Weights.

The same brown skin.

The same hands.

The same body.

No glowing tattoos.

No new armour.

No mysterious sword waiting beside him.

That was mildly disappointing.

But only mildly.

Enshin slowly turned in a complete circle.

The cave moved with him.

It did not dissolve.

He was not dreaming.

His grin appeared before he could stop it.

“I’m in another world.”

Nobody answered.

Enshin laughed once, breathless and disbelieving.

The sound echoed through the chamber.

“I’m in another world!”

Several men flinched.

One tightened his grip on a spear.

Another quietly muttered, “What is wrong with him?”

A man near the edge of the circle stepped forward.

He was older than most of the others, although not elderly. His dark hair was threaded with grey near the temples, and his face carried the carefully controlled weariness of someone accustomed to making difficult decisions.

His clothes were rough enough to belong in the cave, but cleaner than those around him. The amber strip on his upper arm was wider than everyone else’s.

The others watched him before deciding how they should react.

Leader, Enshin thought.

The conclusion arrived automatically, almost separate from the rest of his excitement.

The man raised both empty hands.

“You have answered our call,” he said.

His voice was calm and steady, with weariness beneath every word.

“I understand that this must be frightening. You have been taken far from your home.”

Enshin turned towards him so quickly that his weighted vest shifted against his chest.

“You summoned me?”

The man paused.

Only for half a second.

“Yes.”

Enshin’s grin widened.

“You actually summoned me?”

“We did.”

“I got summoned.”

Several of the men exchanged uncertain looks.

The leader studied Enshin with an expression that revealed almost nothing.

“My name is Vrok,” he said. “I speak for the people who remain here.”

“Enshin.”

“Enshin,” Vrok repeated carefully. “You have arrived during a desperate time.”

Enshin nodded quickly.

Then he looked at the nearest torch again.

Vrok continued.

“We are the forgotten people of this region. Labourers, hunters, farmers and soldiers who once served communities that no longer acknowledge us. When monsters came, the powerful protected their cities and abandoned the settlements outside their walls.”

Enshin tilted his head.

The torch bracket had been hammered into a crack between two sections of stone.

That was so unnecessarily authentic.

“We lost our homes,” Vrok continued. “Many lost their families. Those who survived were driven into the wilderness and hunted as thieves for taking the food they needed to remain alive.”

“Mhm.”

Enshin leaned slightly to one side, trying to see the curved sword hanging from another man’s waist.

Vrok’s eyes followed his gaze.

“We came to this cave because no village would accept us. No lord would shelter us. Here, at least, we can protect what little remains.”

“Right.”

The sword’s handle appeared to be wrapped in actual leather.

Enshin had seen replica weapons before. He had watched enough videos to recognise decorative construction.

That thing was not decorative.

The leather wrapping was worn smooth.

The guard was scratched.

Someone had used it.

Vrok continued speaking.

“Even this refuge is no longer safe. Creatures roam the mountains. Armed patrols search the roads. Merchants refuse to trade with us unless we surrender everything of value.”

“Merchants?”

Enshin finally looked at him again.

Vrok nodded.

“The few willing to travel through these caves demand more than desperate people can afford.”

Enshin glanced around.

Merchants travelling through an isolated cave?

The thought touched the back of his mind.

It did not settle.

The torch popped loudly.

His attention immediately jumped back to it.

“Is that an actual torch?”

Vrok stopped speaking.

Enshin pointed towards the wall.

“That one. Is it just fire?”

A man near the supplies stared at him.

Vrok’s mouth tightened by the smallest amount.

“Yes,” he answered. “It is a torch.”

“That is so cool.”

Silence filled the chamber.

Enshin stepped closer to the wall, careful not to touch the flame.

“There’s no gas line. No electricity. You just put fire on the wall.”

One of the men frowned.

“Where else would you put it?”

Enshin looked at him.

“Good question.”

He turned back to the flame.

The metal bracket was crude. Soot blackened the stone above it. Melted resin had hardened along the shaft.

Enshin inhaled slowly.

“Okay,” he whispered to himself. “Okay. Be normal.”

He faced Vrok again and nodded with exaggerated seriousness.

“Sorry. Continue.”

Vrok watched him for another moment.

Then his weary expression returned.

“We did not summon you lightly. Calling someone from another world required resources we had barely managed to gather. We took the risk because we have reached the end of what we can endure alone.”

“Yeah.”

“We require protection.”

“Absolutely.”

“Our people need someone strong enough to stand between them and those who would destroy us.”

“Very important.”

Enshin’s eyes slid past Vrok.

Spears rested against the far wall.

Clubs.

Swords.

Three shields.

A crossbow.

Knives on almost every belt.

There were too many weapons for a frightened group of abandoned farmers.

That thought remained longer than the others.

Too many.

Vrok stepped slightly into his line of sight.

“You must be exhausted.”

Enshin blinked.

Only then did he notice how dry his mouth felt.

His body had survived whatever had pulled him between worlds, but the rest of him was beginning to catch up. His hands tingled. His stomach tightened painfully.

Vrok gestured towards a woman standing near the wall.

She wore the same amber cloth around her wrist. Her expression was guarded as she collected a wooden bowl from beside a steaming pot.

She approached without making eye contact and placed it on a flat section of stone near Enshin.

Grain.

Root vegetables.

Shredded meat.

Steam rolled from the surface.

A wooden spoon leaned against the bowl at a proud angle.

Enshin stared down at it.

Fantasy food.

Actual other-world food.

Vrok noticed his hesitation.

“It is safe.”

Enshin looked up.

“I wasn’t worried about that.”

He absolutely had been, but only for about half a second.

He picked up the bowl and sat on a low stone near the fading circle. Every armed person in the room kept track of him, even while pretending otherwise.

He took a cautious mouthful.

It tasted like dirt, salt and absolute victory.

Enshin’s eyes widened.

He ate another spoonful.

Then another.

The warmth reached his stomach and sent a jolt through his whole body. His caution surrendered immediately. He finished the meal in less than a minute.

When he lowered the empty bowl, he realised several people were watching him.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Thank you.”

His voice came out flatter than he intended.

The woman gave a faint nod before retrieving the bowl.

Vrok allowed a moment of silence to pass.

Then he gestured towards one of the tunnels.

“Come. Food will help, but understanding your surroundings may settle your mind. I will show you what remains of our home.”

Enshin stood immediately.

“A tour?”

Vrok hesitated at the enthusiasm in his voice.

“If you wish to call it that.”

“Yes.”

Enshin brushed dust from his shorts and followed.

The corridor beyond the summoning chamber was wider than he expected. Human hands had chiselled and smoothed sections of the natural cave—not into anything beautiful, but enough to make regular travel easier.

Torches lined the walls at uneven intervals.

Some burned brightly.

Others coughed smoke into the upper shadows.

The ground had been worn flat by hundreds of footsteps.

Enshin turned his head constantly.

Left.

Right.

Up.

Back towards the chamber.

Then towards a side passage where two armed men straightened as Vrok passed.

Everything demanded his attention at once.

Vrok walked at a measured pace beside him.

“This cave system once belonged to miners,” he explained. “Most of the tunnels were abandoned after the deeper shafts became unstable. We repaired the sections we could.”

“Mining cave,” Enshin murmured.

“Yes.”

“So there could be abandoned mine carts?”

Vrok looked at him.

“I do not know.”

“Hidden ore?”

“We have found little of value.”

“Underground ruins?”

“No.”

“Dungeon monsters?”

Vrok’s expression remained patient with visible effort.

“There are creatures in the lower passages. That is why some areas are restricted.”

Enshin’s attention sharpened.

“Creatures?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with tonight.”

That answer only made him more interested.

Before he could ask another question, Vrok turned towards an open chamber.

“This is where many of our people sleep.”

Bedrolls covered the ground in neat rows.

Each one had been rolled or positioned with almost military precision. Spare clothing sat in small piles beside some of them. A few personal knives and cups rested near the walls.

There were no drawings.

No toys.

No handmade decorations.

No child-sized blankets.

Nothing soft.

Nothing sentimental.

Nothing that suggested a family had tried to turn the chamber into a home.

Only equipment arranged for adults accustomed to leaving quickly.

Enshin looked across the room.

“How many people live here?”

“Our numbers change,” Vrok replied. “Some search for food. Others patrol the mountain paths. We have lost many over the years.”

His voice softened on the final sentence.

It was convincing.

Vrok did not overplay the sadness. He did not beg for sympathy or force tears into his eyes. He spoke as though grief had become so ordinary that he no longer possessed the energy to display it.

Enshin’s grin faded slightly.

“That’s rough.”

“It is.”

Vrok let the silence sit between them before continuing down the tunnel.

The performance was good.

Enshin did not consciously recognise it as a performance yet.

But something about Vrok’s timing bothered him.

Every pause arrived exactly where sympathy should have entered.

Every glance lasted long enough to be noticed.

Every painful detail answered a suspicion before Enshin could voice it.

His mind stored that away.

Then he passed another sword rack.

“Whoa.”

Vrok kept walking.

Enshin slowed beside the weapons.

Several blades leaned against a support beam. Some were short and broad. Others curved slightly near their tips. All of them had been maintained despite the visible damage along their surfaces.

“Are those all for defence?”

Vrok stopped.

“Yes.”

“That’s a lot of defence.”

“The world has given us many reasons to remain prepared.”

Fair answer.

Believable answer.

Enshin nodded.

He leaned closer to examine the crossguard of one sword but kept his hands behind his back.

“Can people use magic here?”

Vrok’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Some can.”

Enshin straightened.

“Actual magic?”

“You arrived through a summoning circle.”

“I know, but that could’ve been some rare ritual thing. You mean people can just use it?”

“With training.”

“What kinds?”

Vrok resumed walking.

“That discussion can wait.”

Enshin followed quickly.

“Fire?”

“Yes.”

“Lightning?”

“In some forms.”

“Can people enhance their bodies?”

“Yes.”

“Can they make weapons heavier?”

Vrok glanced back at the weights strapped to Enshin’s body.

“Why would anyone want to?”

Enshin considered that.

“Fair question.”

They entered another section of the cave.

Crates lined both walls, stacked almost to the ceiling. Sacks of grain sat beside sealed barrels. Coiled rope hung from wooden pegs. Several metal tools rested on a long table.

A man beside the crates was counting something on a scrap of parchment.

He stopped the moment Vrok entered.

The scrap disappeared beneath his hand.

“Supplies,” Vrok said. “Whatever we can purchase, gather or salvage.”

Enshin glanced at the crates.

Some carried faded markings.

Different symbols.

Different styles of construction.

Not all of them appeared to come from the same place.

A few had deep gouges along their sides.

One had a dark reddish stain near the bottom corner.

Enshin’s eyes remained there for a second.

Vrok moved ahead.

Enshin followed.

The thought did not become an accusation.

Not yet.

The tunnel narrowed before dividing into three directions.

Two men guarded the passage on the left.

They wore swords and stood shoulder-width apart, blocking most of the entrance without making it look deliberate.

Enshin looked between them.

“What’s down there?”

“Storage,” Vrok answered immediately.

Enshin’s gaze remained on the guards.

“More storage?”

“Food and medicine that cannot be wasted.”

The men did not look like they were protecting food.

They looked like they were keeping something in.

One of them met Enshin’s eyes.

His hand shifted closer to his weapon.

Enshin’s smile stayed in place, but his gaze sharpened.

Vrok continued through the central tunnel.

“Come.”

Enshin obeyed, though he glanced over his shoulder once.

The guards watched him until the passage disappeared around a bend.

Vrok spoke again.

“We were not always forced to live this way. Many of us once had villages. Trades. Places within the kingdom.”

Enshin looked towards him.

This time, he made a genuine effort to listen.

“Then the northern settlements were attacked,” Vrok continued. “Those who survived fled towards the cities. The gates closed before everyone could enter.”

His expression did not change, but bitterness entered his voice.

“People outside the walls were left to starve. When they took abandoned food, they were called thieves. When they defended themselves, they were called bandits.”

Behind them, someone coughed.

A hammer struck metal in a distant chamber.

Vrok looked ahead rather than at Enshin.

“The powerful decide what people are called. Those of us without land or titles become whatever word makes killing us easier.”

That was good.

Not simply believable.

Good.

The kind of explanation that sounded as though it had been repeated internally for years.

Enshin’s excitement quietened enough for the words to reach him.

He imagined people being shut outside city walls.

Families abandoned because someone with authority had decided they were not worth saving.

His jaw tightened faintly.

“That’s messed up.”

“Yes,” Vrok replied. “It is.”

For several steps, Enshin gave him his full attention.

Then they entered a larger chamber, and all of it vanished.

A broad wooden table occupied the centre.

Maps had been pinned to one wall.

Actual parchment maps.

Enshin immediately moved closer.

“No way.”

Vrok stopped behind him.

Enshin stared at the hand-drawn mountains, forests and winding roads. Small symbols marked settlements. Red lines crossed several routes. Amber pins had been driven into locations along the edge of the region.

“Is this the kingdom?”

“Part of it.”

“Where are we?”

Vrok pointed to a mountain symbol near the bottom.

Enshin leaned closer.

“What’s that city?”

“The royal capital.”

“How far?”

“Several weeks on foot.”

Enshin’s eyebrows rose.

“Several weeks?”

“The roads are dangerous.”

“Are there monsters?”

“Yes.”

“What kind?”

“Many.”

“Dragons?”

Vrok exhaled slowly through his nose.

“Not here.”

“So somewhere else?”

“I did not say that.”

Enshin grinned again.

His attention bounced across the map.

Mountain ranges.

Forests.

Rivers.

Ruins marked in black ink.

The first genuine proof that there was an entire world beyond the cave.

His fingers hovered above the parchment without touching it.

He could go there.

Not immediately.

Probably not safely.

But those places existed.

His chest felt too small for the excitement inside it.

Behind him, Vrok watched carefully.

“You understand now,” Vrok said, “why we needed someone from beyond this world.”

Enshin nodded without turning around.

“Yeah.”

“We cannot survive the kingdom’s patrols and the creatures surrounding us alone.”

“Right.”

“Our people need hope.”

“Mhm.”

“A hero.”

“Yep.”

Vrok waited.

Enshin continued staring at the map.

The silence stretched.

Vrok’s voice cooled slightly.

“Enshin.”

“Hm?”

“Did you hear what I said?”

Enshin turned.

Vrok’s expression was calm, but the people nearby had gone quiet.

Enshin replayed the last several seconds inside his head.

Kingdom.

Creatures.

Hope.

Hero.

“Your people need help,” he said.

Vrok relaxed.

“Yes.”

“And you were abandoned.”

“Yes.”

“And you summoned me because…” Enshin’s eyes moved briefly back towards the map. “You ran out of options.”

Vrok smiled.

It looked warm from a distance.

Up close, it was careful.

“Exactly.”

Enshin nodded.

He had heard enough.

Not everything.

Probably not even half.

But enough to understand the story Vrok wanted him to understand.

These were forgotten people.

Survivors.

Victims who had been labelled bandits because nobody powerful cared about the truth.

It made sense.

Parts of it, anyway.

The cave certainly looked poor.

The equipment was worn.

The food was simple.

The people looked hardened by difficult lives.

Vrok’s exhaustion seemed real.

But the cave did not entirely match the story.

Too many weapons.

Too many guards.

No children.

No elderly people.

No families.

No one behaved naturally without first checking Vrok’s reaction.

Enshin’s mind held both versions at once.

The one Vrok was telling him—

and the one the cave was showing him.

He was still too excited for the contradiction to outweigh the impossible joy of being there.

Vrok led him away from the maps.

As they passed another group of men, their quiet conversation stopped immediately.

One lowered his gaze.

Another shifted his foot in front of a small object on the ground.

Enshin saw the movement.

The man saw him see it.

For one sharp moment, they stared at each other.

Then Enshin smiled casually and kept walking.

Vrok glanced back.

“You have become quiet.”

“Just processing.”

“That is natural.”

“Yeah.” Enshin rubbed the back of his neck. “Getting pulled into another world does that, I guess.”

Vrok appeared satisfied by the explanation.

He mistook distraction for compliance.

They returned towards the main chamber through another passage.

Enshin continued turning his head towards every doorway.

A locked wooden door.

An armed guard beside an empty corridor.

Scratches across the floor, as though something heavy had recently been dragged through.

A coil of chain hanging from a wall peg.

Every detail entered his mind without being invited.

But so did everything else.

The torches.

The maps.

The swords.

The possibility of magic.

The distant sound of something large shifting somewhere deeper underground.

Enshin stopped.

A low scrape echoed through the stone.

Then came a heavy exhale.

Not human.

His entire face brightened.

“What was that?”

Vrok did not stop walking.

“Livestock.”

“That did not sound like livestock.”

“Animals sound different in this world.”

Enshin hurried after him.

“What kind of animal?”

“One you do not need to meet tonight.”

“So I can meet it later?”

Vrok’s jaw tightened.

“If necessary.”

Enshin glanced towards the dark passage from which the sound had come.

Something moved again.

Heavy.

Restrained.

Alive.

His curiosity surged, but the two armed men near the entrance made it clear that Vrok’s warning was enforced.

He forced himself to continue walking.

Later, he thought.

He would see it later.

They reached the summoning chamber again.

The magic circle had almost entirely vanished. Only a few pale marks remained between cracks in the floor.

Vrok gestured towards an unoccupied bedroll placed apart from the others.

“You may rest there tonight.”

Enshin looked at it.

“You’re letting me sleep?”

“You have travelled further than anyone here can comprehend. Whatever strength brought you safely across worlds will not make you immune to exhaustion.”

That was another good answer.

Vrok always had one ready.

“If you require food or water, ask,” Vrok continued. “But do not explore the lower tunnels alone. Some are unstable. Others contain creatures that will not distinguish you from prey.”

Enshin nodded.

“Got it.”

Vrok studied him.

“Tomorrow, we will discuss what you can do—and what must be done.”

There it was.

The first hint of expectation beneath the hospitality.

Enshin noticed it.

He also noticed that the sword at Vrok’s hip had not been there when he first approached the summoning circle.

Or perhaps it had, and Enshin had been too overwhelmed to see it.

“Tomorrow,” Enshin repeated.

Vrok inclined his head before walking away.

The people surrounding the chamber slowly returned to their tasks.

Enshin lowered himself onto the bedroll.

His body appreciated the rest more than he expected. The stone beneath the thin bedding remained hard and cold, but after wearing weights for so long, physical discomfort rarely prevented him from settling down.

He leaned back against the wall.

For the first time since arriving, nobody was directly speaking to him.

The silence gave his thoughts room to collide.

Another world.

Magic.

Monsters.

A kingdom.

Weeks of travel.

Actual swords.

He covered his mouth with one hand, but the grin remained visible around it.

“This is insane.”

A nearby man glanced towards him.

Enshin lowered his voice.

“Sorry.”

He looked down at the fading circle again.

The excitement was still there, almost painful in its intensity.

But now other thoughts moved beneath it.

Vrok’s story.

The armed guards.

The locked tunnels.

The lack of families.

The strange sound from below.

The crossbow positioned where it could cover the main entrance.

The word storage being used too quickly.

Enshin rested his arms on his knees.

Maybe there were reasonable explanations.

A dangerous world would create dangerous people.

Survivors needed weapons.

The children and elderly people might be somewhere safer.

The guards could be protecting supplies.

The chains could be for livestock.

Vrok’s story could be true.

Most of it, at least.

Enshin wanted it to be true.

Being summoned as a hero by forgotten people was exactly the sort of beginning he had imagined countless times.

Maybe that was why part of him was already trying so hard to believe it.

Across the chamber, Vrok spoke quietly with two men wearing amber cords. One of them looked towards Enshin before leaning closer.

Their voices dropped.

Enshin pretended not to notice.

He lay down, folding one arm beneath his head.

The sounds of the cave surrounded him.

Torch flames crackled.

Water dripped somewhere in the distance.

Metal scraped against stone.

Low voices travelled through adjoining passages.

Far below, something heavy moved once more.

Enshin stared at the ceiling.

He should have been afraid.

Perhaps part of him was.

But wonder remained stronger.

He had finally made it.

The world he had wanted his entire life existed beyond those tunnels.

Tomorrow, he would learn about magic.

About monsters.

About whatever Vrok expected a summoned hero to do.

Eventually, he would find out what was making that noise beneath the cave.

His eyes slowly closed.

He replayed Vrok’s explanation one final time.

Forgotten people.

Abandoned survivors.

Falsely branded bandits.

It was believable.

That was the problem.

Vrok’s voice told one story.

The cave told another.

Enshin had not decided which one he believed.

Not yet.

But even as sleep began pulling him under, his mind continued counting the weapons.