As the blinding light fades, my vision sharpens, revealing the details of my surroundings: a cavernous, stone-walled chamber illuminated by the erratic dance of torchlight. Beneath me, a massive summoning circle glows faintly, its intricate patterns pulsing with a rhythm that feels almost alive. The air is thick with the scent of incense and something metallic, like the tang of blood or ozone.

  I’m not alone. Around twenty figures cloaked in black robes stand in a wide arc, their hoods shadowing their faces. Each grips a wooden staff, their voices rising in a low, guttural chant that reverberates off the stone walls. The language is foreign, ancient, and heavy with power. These must be the magicians who brought me here.

  But I’m not the only one they’ve summoned.

  “What? Where am I?”

  The voice is high-pitched, trembling with fear. I turn to see a young girl with a high black ponytail, her wide eyes darting around the room. She’s dressed in a familiar Japanese high school sailor uniform, the badge on her chest marking her as a student from Sakura Senior High—a school just a few streets away from where I used to live. Her hands clutch the hem of her skirt, knuckles white.

  The other two newcomers are boys. One has spiky red hair that seems to defy gravity, his plain white T-shirt and scowl giving him a rebellious air. The other is shorter, with messy black hair and tanned skin, his pizza delivery uniform looking absurdly out of place in this grim setting. Both look to be around the same age as the girl, their faces etched with confusion and fear.

  “What the heck!?” the red-haired boy exclaims, his voice cracking. “You’ve got to be kidding me… Is this real?”

  “Holy shit! I’m still alive!” the pizza boy blurts, his voice trembling as he pats himself down frantically. His face has gone ghostly pale, his eyes wide with disbelief.

  All three of them are clearly terrified—a natural reaction, given the circumstances. Crossing between worlds is no small feat, and the disorientation it brings is anything but pleasant.

  But I don’t share their fear. My heart pounds, not from terror, but from exhilaration. A wild, almost manic energy courses through me, because after so many years, I’ve finally made it here.

  “Anna…”

  Her name slips from my lips, a whisper that carries the weight of decades. It’s a name I’ve clung to, a name that has haunted my dreams and driven me forward. And now, at last, I’m close—so close—to finding her.

  Twenty years ago, in 2065, Tokyo.

  Akihabara was the beating heart of otaku culture, a sprawling labyrinth of neon lights, maid cafés, and endless rows of shops selling everything from anime figurines to retro video games. That summer morning, I—a twenty-year-old Canadian—had brought my twelve-year-old sister, Anna, to explore the district as part of our vacation. It was a day filled with laughter and wonder, one of those rare, perfect moments that etch themselves into mymemory.

  We wandered from arcades to themed cafés, Anna’s eyes lighting up at every new discovery. She dragged me from one shop to the next, her enthusiasm infectious. We bought souvenirs, tried strange snacks, and laughed until our sides hurt. It was, without a doubt, one of the happiest days of my life.

  But on our way home, the world shifted.

  The bustling streets of Akihabara fell silent, the usual cacophony of voices and music replaced by an eerie stillness. Then, without warning, a violent gust of wind tore through the air, icy and unnatural. I looked up, my breath catching as the sky darkened, the vibrant blues and pinks of sunset giving way to an oppressive gray.

  “Huh? It’s… cold?” I mumbled, my words swallowed by the sudden chill. It was midsummer, yet the air felt like the depths of a Canadian winter. My breath fogged in front of me, and snowflakes began to drift down from the sky.

  Before I could process what was happening—

  “Jack! Help!!!” Anna’s voice pierced the silence, sharp and desperate.

  My heart lurched. I spun around, and what I saw froze me in place. Beneath Anna’s feet, a circle of glowing runes had appeared, its light so intense it seared my eyes. The symbols pulsed with an otherworldly energy, casting eerie shadows on her terrified face.

  “Anna! ANNAAA!” I dropped our bags and lunged toward her, but an invisible barrier slammed into me, throwing me back. I scrambled to my feet, my hands slamming against the unseen wall.

  “NOOO!” I screamed, pounding my fists against the barrier with all my strength. “ANNAAAA!”

  But it was no use. The barrier held firm, unyielding as iron. My heart burned with desperation as I kicked and clawed at it and, every fiber of my being screamed for me to reach her, to save her, but I was powerless.

  I could only watch as the light around Anna intensified, wrapping her in tendrils of golden fire. Her terrified eyes locked onto mine, her mouth forming silent screams as her body began to fade, growing more transparent with each passing second.

  And then, in one final, blinding flash of light—

  She was gone.

  The circle vanished, leaving no trace of Anna or the magic that had taken her. The streets of Akihabara returned to normal, as if nothing had happened. But for me, the world had shattered.

  ——————————————-

  As the ritual’s final echoes fade into the chamber’s shadowy recesses, the heavy wooden doors at the far end groan open with a low, resonant creak. A procession of people files in, their footsteps muffled against the stone floor.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  At their head strides an elderly king, his presence commanding despite his age. His silver hair flows like a river of moonlight, and his crimson robe, embroidered with intricate gold thread, glimmers faintly in the torchlight. A crown of polished gold rests upon his brow.

  Beside him walks a woman of striking beauty, her silver gown adorned with crystals and gems that scatter light like stars. A delicate tiara crowns her head, marking her as royalty—though whether she is queen or princess, I cannot tell.

  Behind them trails a diverse retinue: nobles draped in velvet cloaks, warriors clad in sturdy armor, knights in gleaming plate mail, and robed scholars clutching ancient tomes. Their attire is a vivid tapestry of medieval grandeur, as though plucked from the pages of a fantasy epic. Despite their numbers—more than a hundred strong—the chamber remains eerily silent, the air thick with an unspoken reverence.

  The king’s sharp, eagle-like gaze settles on us, standing at the center of the now-fading summoning circle. A faint, courteous smile touches his lips, but it does little to soften the intensity of his stare. He steps forward, his voice resonating through the chamber like the toll of a great bell.

  “Welcome to Valeria, noble heroes,” he intones, his words imbued with both majesty and solemnity. “You have been summoned to our world in its darkest hour, to stand as beacons of hope against the encroaching shadow that threatens to devour all. I am King Alaric Froste, sovereign ruler of this Holy Kingdom, and it is my solemn duty to beseech your aid.”

  His words are foreign—neither Japanese, English, nor French—yet they flow into my mind with crystalline clarity, as though the language has been etched into my very soul. The realization is both wondrous and disquieting.

  “Ermm… is… is this a mistake?” the high school girl beside me stammers, her voice trembling. She clutches the hem of her sailor uniform, her wide eyes darting between the king and the crowd. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think we’re ‘noble heroes’ at all… Eh? Wait—what language am I even speaking? Why does it feel like it’s my mother tongue?”

  I get it. The whole “instant fluency” thing is throwing me off too. It’s like someone flipped a switch in my brain, and now I’m suddenly bilingual in “Fantasy Kingdom.”

  It’s fascinating, but unnerving all the same.

  “Eh, I think you’ve got the wrong people,” the pizza delivery guy chimes in, gripping the strap of his uniform cap nervously. “We’re not heroes or anything.”

  “Yeah, and even if we were,” the red-haired boy cuts in, crossing his arms defiantly, “why should we help you? We didn’t ask to come here. This is kidnapping!”

  I stay quiet, but I’m with them on this one. Titles and crowns don’t change the fact that we were basically kidnapped and dragged into another world.

  King Alaric takes a long breath, as though he expected our doubts.

  “I understand your confusion and your fear. Please believe that bringing you here against your will was never our desire. Yet our kingdom, our world, stands on the brink of catastrophe—an evil force looms that could destroy everything. There was no error. You are the Chosen Heroes. Only you possess the power to save us from the Demon God.”

  “Eh? Chosen… heroes?” the high school girl whispers.

  “Demon… God?” echoes the red-haired boy almost simultaneously.

  For a moment, none of us respond. The kids seem lost in their own thoughts, trying to deal with the confusion and fear that come from being thrown into a whole new world under such strange circumstances.

  A faint smell of incense and burnt herbs lingers in the air, reminding us of the magic that brought us here in the first place.

  Suddenly—

  “Wait!” the pizza delivery guy exclaims, snapping his fingers. “Guys, is this some light novel situation? Like isekai stories in anime?”

  “Ah, right!” the schoolgirl says, brightening noticeably. “I’ve read lots of those. They’re all the rage nowadays—people from Earth getting summoned or reincarnated into a new world to become heroes!!!”

  She’s not wrong. Isekai is a huge genre in anime and manga, with new stories popping up every month. The word literally means “another world,” and it’s all about ordinary people getting thrown into fantasy realms. I’ve seen enough of them to know the tropes by heart.

  But here’s the thing: reality isn’t a light novel.

  Comparing our current predicament to a mere light novel or game might trivialize how serious this truly is. Those stories are, in the end, works of fiction—filled with convenient plot twists, magical “plot armor,” and happy endings.

  On the other hand, this is our real life, with real consequences. Here, there’s no “save point” or “retry.” Fighting monstrous enemies and witnessing the brutal horrors of war can break a person, especially teenagers who have never faced violence or killing before. If we want to survive, we’ll need more than sudden powers. We’ll need grit, courage, and the hardened will of experienced soldiers.

  It seems the girl is the first to realize just how daunting this might be.

  “Ermmm… but… can we really do that? Save the world? I mean… I don’t know how to fight at all,” she admits.

  “Ah… yeah, you’re right,” the pizza boy agrees. “I can’t even kill a chicken, let alone monsters…”

  At this, their earlier spark of excitement dies away.

  “Your Majesty,” the red-haired boy says, turning to the king, “don’t you have anyone in your own world to fight these demons? We’re just teenagers. We’ve never even held a sword. Can we really defeat the Demon God?”

  And he’s absolutely right.

  Aside from me, the others are basically children. Compared to the knights flanking the king, they look like fragile twigs. It makes no sense to send them against a Demon King.

  However…

  “Please, there’s no need for concern; we will provide all the required training and support,” the king insists. “And you may not be aware, but your presence here is no coincidence. Being chosen means that you all have hidden talents and powers. After all, you are the legendary heroes! You may not look strong right now, but that will definitely change in just a few years. You all have the potential to become the strongest in the world!”

  “Wait!” the pizza delivery guy breaks in, his voice suddenly so excited. “By hidden powers, do you mean something like cheat skills and abilities? Or perhaps there’s a hidden system or something?”

  In most Isekai stories, the protagonist often has a “cheat ability.” It could be something very, very absurd like getting stronger by walking, devouring other people’s skills, or even the ability to kill with a single thought. So, depending on the type of cheat skills they could acquire, this entire situation would change drastically.

  But the king looks confused for a moment. “Sorry, but I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with your terminology.”

  “Ah, I mean… are you suggesting we possess abilities that make us extremely strong, abilities exclusive to us compared to ordinary individuals?”

  The king nods. “Yes, something like that. What you called ‘cheat skills’ we know as ‘blood talents.’ They represent the hidden potential in your body. Each of you has a unique talent, allowing your power to grow ten times—or even a hundred times—faster than most. If you’d like, we can awaken those talents for you right now.”

  “Yes, please!” the pizza delivery guy responds instantly.

  “But what if we don’t want to do any of that?” I interject. “What if we just want to go home? Is there a way to return?”

  “Absolutely,” the King answers without hesitation. “We fully understand the enormity of what we’re asking—battling demons and even gods. Rest assured, we will provide you with every possible resource, privilege, and support. Still, if you decide that’s not enough, we can reverse the summoning spell at any time and send you back. But please consider our need. Your talents are vital to our struggle.”

  The king then proceeds to detail the array of privileges and benefits that the kingdom intends to bestow upon the heroes. He promises titles, power, wealth, status—every conceivable luxury and advantage, everything a person could ever dream of. It doesn’t take long for the other boy and the teenage girl to be swayed by these offerings, and they readily agree to assume their roles as heroes.

  As for me, yes, of course, I am going to stay too. I need to find my sister, after all. But to reverse the summoning spells to send us back home?

  That is just complete bullshit.