Yuta wondered—was he living within a star system similar to TRAPPIST-1?
He gazed around him, anger simmering beneath the surface, a deep sense of disgust crawling through his chest.
"Listen, Yuta… calm down," he said to himself, trying to steady his thoughts.
"Sebas. Come out."
The handsome young man appeared at once, emerging from swirling smoke—or perhaps forming from it—standing politely with a smile, one hand resting over his chest.
"How may I serve you, my lady?"
Yuta looked at him. He needed information—about the locations of the summoned heroes. But first, priorities.
"Find the weakest possible hero among the summoned champions, please."
Sebas raised an eyebrow; clear signs of surprise crossed his face before he smiled.
"I haven't heard the word please in centuries. How amusing."
"Sebas," Yuta said sharply.
"Oh—your voice is incredibly enchanting, my lady," Sebas replied, placing a hand against his cheek.
Yuta shuddered violently in terror.
Sebas immediately covered himself.
"You must be an extraordinarily beautiful woman."
Then he froze, embarrassed.
"Ah—my apologies. I shall depart at once. But may I say one thing before I go?"
Yuta nodded in agreement.
Sebas continued his chatter.
"Given the danger of this task, I believe it would be wiser to wait. This feels… suspicious."
Yuta cut him off.
"No. Absolutely not. This is important—and it will be the first thing we do."
Behind the mask, Yuta smiled.
What you don't understand is that we are the targets.
Those damned orcs had withdrawn quickly, rushing off to inform someone—someone who cared.
Was that person the one who brought him here?
Yuta realized it now.
He could read minds.
Possessed overwhelming physical strength.
Monstrous magic—even by this world's standards.
All of it fused with Yuta's own sharp, pragmatic intelligence.
And all of this—hidden deep within an isolated, protected forest where no one dared approach.
Someone had handed him every possible path forward—every tool needed to survive… and to advance.
Was Yuta a weapon?
Maybe.
But why?
And for whom?
This world was dangerous. Anyone who possessed power—man or woman, old or young—could do whatever they wished. Kill. Rape. Torture. Anything.
And it seemed no one was ever held accountable.
The image of that old man from the kingdom flashed through Yuta's mind. He had shown no interest in women his entire life—yet he had been ready to lick the dirt from Yuta's feet. Anyone who looked at him lost their sanity entirely.
If the old man hadn't been restrained, he would have attacked.
Fear crept into Yuta's chest.
If he wasn't careful, he might end up as nothing more than part of the harem of those idiotic heroes.
"Sebas," Yuta said quietly, "tomorrow we observe this one."
He pointed to an image—
A small boy, twelve years old.
Brown hair.
Blue eyes.
Thin, fragile-looking.
Wearing simple, ordinary clothes.