A deafening sound rang out in the distance—steel clashing against steel, monstrous roars echoing through stone walls, and something else… like chanting? Screams?
Takahiro Minami opened his eyes, but for a few seconds, his mind refused to catch up with what they saw.
He was lying on cold marble, face-down on a floor carved with strange, glowing symbols. The taste of iron filled his mouth, though he wasn’t bleeding. His fingers trembled as they pushed against the polished stone, helping him rise. The air was thick with smoke, sweat, and something burning.
And noise. There was so much noise.
He sat up with a groan, clutching his head.
“Takahiro!”
The voice came from his left. Familiar. Urgent.
He turned and saw her—Kana Fujimoto, his childhood friend. Her short black hair was messy, her school uniform dirtied and torn at the shoulder. Her breathing was fast, but she looked unharmed. She knelt beside him, eyes sharp, one hand balled into a fist like she was ready to punch the next thing that moved.
“You’re awake,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “Took you long enough.”
Takahiro blinked. “Kana…? What’s going on? Where are we?”
“I was hoping you could tell me that.”
He shook his head and finally took in his surroundings. They were in what looked like a massive hall—tall vaulted ceilings, stone pillars, wide stained-glass windows, and what might’ve once been ceremonial banners now scorched and torn. There were steps leading to a raised dais behind them and a shattered chandelier above, hanging by one last desperate chain.
A third figure stood a few steps away: a girl, maybe their age or slightly older. Her long blonde hair was tied with a white ribbon, and her dress shimmered with gold-embroidered silk that looked like something out of a period drama—or a fantasy game.
Her cheeks were stained with tears, but her hands clenched the folds of her skirt tightly. She looked terrified, but not broken.
Kana followed Takahiro’s gaze. “Yeah, she’s been here since I came to. She hasn’t said much. I think she’s in shock.”
Before he could respond, a strange sensation prickled at the back of Takahiro’s neck. A whisper in the air—no, not a whisper, a presence. Something was behind him.
He turned—
Nothing.
Then a shimmer in the air. Like heatwaves, but vertical, rippling through space. Something emerged—tall, hunched, with claws and gray skin that flickered in and out of visibility. A mouth like a torn-open wound, and eyes like smoking embers. The creature raised an arm, ready to strike—
“DOWN!”
Takahiro hit the floor instinctively.
Steel rang out, close. A blade slashed through the air, cutting across the creature’s chest with a bright flash. The monster screamed—a sound like glass grinding against glass—and crumpled to the ground, dissolving into ash.
Standing where the creature had been was a man clad in scorched armor, blood splattered across his pauldrons, his blade still humming with the aftershock of the strike. He was in his thirties, square-jawed, grim-eyed, the kind of man who looked like he’d seen a hundred battles and never once enjoyed one.
Two more men in simpler armor rushed in behind him, panting, swords drawn. They flanked him without a word, eyes scanning the room for more threats.
The man lowered his blade slightly and turned to the girl in the dress.
“Your Highness. Are either of them the summoned hero?”
The girl nodded quickly, her lips trembling. “Y-Yes. The boy. I—I believe he is.”
Takahiro froze. Hero?
The man narrowed his eyes at him. “Doesn’t look like much.”
“Hey,” Kana growled, stepping protectively in front of Takahiro. “Watch it.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
The man ignored her. “The priests who conducted the ritual are dead. Cut down before they could finish sealing the circle. The enemy’s pushing through the east wing. We have to move.”
He turned back to his soldiers. “Secure the entrance hall. No more surprises. Protect the royal heir with your lives.”
The two soldiers saluted in unison and rushed toward the large doors at the far end of the hall, where the sounds of battle grew louder with each passing second.
Takahiro struggled to stand. His legs wobbled under him, and Kana steadied him with a hand on his arm.
“Hero?” he said, voice barely audible.
The girl in the dress—the princess, apparently—stepped forward.
“I… I know you’re confused,” she said, trying to steady her voice. “But please. You must come with us. I’ll explain everything, but right now, if we stay here, we’ll all die.”
Her words weren’t exaggerated. Screams echoed beyond the hall, and the clash of steel grew closer. The walls trembled with distant impacts. Dust fell from the ceiling.
Takahiro looked at her, then at Kana. He swallowed.
“Fine,” he said, voice hoarse. “Lead the way.”
The soldier nodded curtly and turned toward the hall's shattered corridor. Behind him, two more soldiers emerged—young, barely older than Takahiro, but visibly frightened. They carried spears and small shields, and their armor looked like it had seen better days.
“Stick together,” the commander ordered. “And pray the eastern line holds.”
The stone corridor was colder than the great hall. Darker, too. Smoke drifted along the edges of the floor, stirred by the rushed steps of soldiers and the clatter of steel armor. Somewhere behind them, something collapsed with a dull boom.
Kana didn’t move.
She stood still, jaw tight, eyes darting between the armored man, the girl in the dress, and the ruined path ahead.
“Wait,” she snapped, her voice sharp, cutting through the tension. “Someone explain what the hell is going on!”
The princess flinched. The soldier narrowed his eyes.
“Not now,” he muttered, his grip on the sword tightening. “We need to move.”
Kana didn’t budge. “You brought us here. Or someone did. I think we deserve to know—”
“Tch.” The man turned his back and started walking.
“Hey—!”
“Kana.”
Takahiro’s voice was quiet but firm.
He placed a hand on her shoulder. She glanced sideways at him.
“I want answers too,” he said. “But right now… we need to stay alive first. Then we can ask as many questions as we want.”
Her fists trembled at her sides. For a second, she looked like she might shout again—might punch a wall or the commander or even fate itself—but then she exhaled. Slowly. Controlled. Her shoulders dropped.
“...Fine,” she said through clenched teeth. “But I’m not letting this go.”
Takahiro nodded once. “I know.”
The soldier looked back at them. “Move.”
As they followed, Takahiro’s eyes drifted, almost involuntarily, to the spot where the creature had fallen.
He froze mid-step.
The blood was still there.
A deep, blackish-red pool on the marble, already beginning to soak into the cracks between the stones. The body was gone—vaporized or dragged away, he didn’t know—but the blood remained. Thicker than human blood. Almost sticky-looking. And the smell… it was like burning copper and raw meat left too long in the sun.
His stomach twisted.
He turned his head away quickly, pressing his lips together, forcing himself to focus on Kana’s footsteps ahead of him.
Don’t look. Don’t think. Just move.
He had never seen something die before. Not up close. Not like that.
They reached the next corridor—wider, with columns along both sides and high arched windows letting in slivers of dying daylight. From somewhere beyond the walls, the sound of war kept rising: shouting, screaming, horns blowing, and the impossible roars of things no man had ever heard in the real world.
Kana slowed beside him, keeping her eyes scanning every corner. Her breathing was quiet but measured. Even in her confusion, her instincts were sharp.
Then—a sound.
Grinding. Cracking. Too close.
Takahiro turned just as one of the side walls exploded inward.
Stone shattered. Dust and debris sprayed across the corridor. Kana shielded her eyes, Takahiro stumbled back, and the soldier threw himself between them and the collapsing masonry.
Through the hole emerged three figures—demons, though nothing like the one from before.
The first was tall and skeletal, its skin like charred bark, eyes glowing green like molten glass. The second was stockier, muscle-bound, dragging a cruelly hooked blade across the floor. The third was smaller, fast—almost spiderlike, its body moving in twitching jerks.
They screeched as they entered, limbs clawing against the stone.
Kana instinctively stepped in front of Takahiro again, legs bent slightly, her arms raised into a kenpō guard.
The soldier didn’t waste time. “Protect the Princess!” he barked.
From behind them, the two soldiers from before rushed back, forming a rough triangle around the girl. Steel met claw, screaming filled the hall, and Kana stayed still—watching, fists clenched, ready to act.
Takahiro just stood there.
He couldn’t look away. He wanted to move, to help, to shout something. But his legs were heavy. His breath shallow. The scene in front of him—it wasn’t like a movie. It wasn’t like anime. There was no soundtrack, no slow motion, no heroic timing.
There was blood, and screaming, and the sound of bones cracking.
He flinched again. His heart beat too fast.
Next to him, Kana hissed between her teeth. But not at the monsters.
“Riku…”
The name left her lips in a whisper. She wasn’t even looking at the fight.
She was staring at the broken wall, the dusk beyond it, the faraway sky that reminded her of a classroom left behind.
Where are you, Riku…?
The soldiers pushed the creatures back, blades flashing, armor dented. One of them took a claw across the shoulder but didn’t fall. The general moved like lightning—quick, brutal, efficient. His sword pierced through the chest of the spiderlike one, and it let out a metallic shriek before collapsing in a twitching heap.
Another soldier drove his spear into the stocky one’s stomach, then turned and shouted, “GO!”
The general didn’t hesitate. “Retreat down the right passage! MOVE!”
Kana grabbed Takahiro’s hand without waiting for permission and pulled him with her as they followed the princess and her guards into the side corridor.
Behind them, the battle continued—monsters howling, steel singing, and the world crumbling a little more with every step.
