Enter Kenji Himamura.
Born in Japan to two teenagers barely out of high school, Kenji's life started on unstable footing. His parents, overwhelmed and unprepared, made the difficult decision to send him overseas at the age of three to live with his aunt and uncle in America. Though their choice was wrapped in good intentions, Kenji never saw it that way. To him, it was abandonment.
Resentment festered as he grew older. At eight, he learned he had a baby sister—born into a now-wealthy household. His parents only visited on birthdays or the occasional holiday. Worse still, his little sister was spoiled, living the kind of life Kenji believed he should have had. But his aunt and uncle filled the parental void with unwavering love and care. In his eyes, they were his real parents. As he matured, the bitterness toward his biological family dulled, but never quite disappeared.
Kenji was nothing short of a prodigy. In school, he was always at the top of his class, and rarely needed to study. By age seven, doctors diagnosed him with Dissociative Identity Disorder—multiple personalities. Only one alternate ever surfaced: a sluggish, lazy persona he jokingly named "Sloth." It appeared maybe once a year, making it more of an odd inconvenience than a real issue.
He devoured books—novels, manga, manhwa, comics—and had an uncanny knack for gaming. By fourteen, he was a rising star in the pro gaming scene. His favorite? Heavenly Blade: Ascension—an obscure RPG infamous for its brutal difficulty. Even reaching level one was considered an achievement.
Middle school was hell. Bullied, beaten, and humiliated daily. His main tormentor? Henry—a brute who ruled with his fists. Worse yet, Henry's parents were on the school board, so teachers dared not intervene. Kenji refused to tell his aunt and uncle, unwilling to burden the only people who truly cared for him.
Then came Amy Sanchez. A petite girl with pale skin, blonde hair, and warm brown eyes. She was his first real friend—his anchor. Despite his protests, she stood up for him. With her help, Kenji changed. He started working out, eating right, and studying coding. He was determined to become a game developer and to leave behind the scrawny, helpless version of himself.
By high school, Kenji looked like a different person—lean, fit, and confident. His skin had cleared, his once-shaggy hair now neat and grown out. He asked Amy out a few months into the school year. She said yes. Two years later, they were inseparable—both sixteen, both dreaming of better days.
On the second-to-last day of school, Kenji and Amy were seated at the back of the classroom, laughing during lunch break. Most students had gone out, but five remained: Kenji, Amy, Henry—thankfully now more passive—Mark, the kind class president, and Liz, a punkish delinquent who somehow got along with Mark.
"So," Kenji asked Amy, "what's your plan for summer vacation?"
She stretched her arms above her head and shrugged. "Not much. Probably chill at home, binge some anime. You?"
Kenji sighed. "Trip with my birth parents. They drag me somewhere every year like it makes up for everything."
Suddenly, the ground beneath them began to glow. Yellow runes spiraled outward, humming with power. The air buzzed. Everyone froze.
"What the hell!?" Liz shouted, backing up.
"What's going on!?" Mark tried to run, but couldn't move his legs.
"Is this… magic!?" Henry asked, eyes wide.
Kenji instinctively pulled Amy close. "Hold on!"
A blinding light engulfed them. The hum turned into a roar. In an instant, the classroom vanished.
When the light faded, they found themselves in a grand stone chamber, lit by torches. Rich tapestries lined the walls. Robed figures holding staffs stood in a circle around them. At the far end sat a regal man on a throne and a young woman beside him.
"Wh-where are we!?" Amy asked, clutching Kenji's arm.
"No way," Kenji whispered, stunned. "This place… I know this."
The man on the throne stood. "Welcome, brave heroes. I am King Leidnhardt of Starneigh. You have been summoned here to defeat the Demon King of Tyranny."
Henry was the first to speak. "Wait… You're saying we've been isekai'd? Like in those novels?"
Kenji nodded slowly. "Not quite… it's more like we were transmigrated. But yeah, basically."
The king's face brightened. "Ah, good! You understand. That will make things easier. You were summoned by sacred magic to save our world from destruction."
Mark stepped forward, hesitantly. "Your Majesty, what if… we don't want to fight? Can we go back?"
Leidnhardt's face fell. "Alas, the gate has already closed. You are now bound to this world. I'm truly sorry."
Shock rippled through the group.
"No… No, this can't be happening," Amy whispered.
Liz gritted her teeth. "Tch. Figures. I knew today felt off."
"So, we're stuck," Henry muttered. "Great."
Kenji took a breath and stepped forward. "If we do this—if we defeat the Demon King—what do we get?"
The king smiled again. "Riches, fame, noble titles, and vast lands. You will never want for anything again."
The promise stirred them. Murmurs of interest spread.
Kenji continued. "You're not just throwing us into the wild, right? There's training?"
The king laughed heartily. "Of course not! First, a class selection ceremony. Then a month to adjust before training begins. Please, form a line before my daughter, Princess Zenith. She will guide your class awakening."
Mark stepped up first. He closed his eyes as Zenith placed a hand on his forehead. After twenty minutes, he collapsed, breathing heavily but smiling.
"Congratulations," the princess said warmly. "You've earned the class: Shadow Assassin."
"Cool…" he mumbled, still dazed.
Amy went next. The process took forty-five minutes. She swayed but remained standing.
"Well done, Divine Archer," Zenith said. "A rare class. Precision and grace—just like you."
Liz strode forward, defiant. Hers took thirty minutes.
"Sagelike Magician," Zenith declared. "A balance of power and wisdom. Impressive."
Henry went last before Kenji. He grinned cockily. "Watch this."
Ten minutes in, his body shook violently.
"Stop!" Zenith shouted. "You're forcing it! You could've died!"
Henry smirked. "Worth it. What's my class?"
Zenith glared. "Slicer of the Heavens—Hero. But be more careful."
Then came Kenji.
He stepped forward, calm but curious. As Zenith touched his forehead, his vision blackened. When it returned, he stood in a void. Four massive gates towered in front of him.
Zenith gasped, her voice echoing. "Four class doors?! That's unheard of!"
Kenji blinked. "Wait… most people don't even get one?"
"Only one in fifty awaken a class," she whispered. "Two is one in a billion. Three? Only one man in history. But four…"
He examined the doors. The first depicted a necromancer wielding a scythe, surrounded by skeletons. "Strong, but early game it's too weak. Late bloomer."
The second door glowed with runes—an Enchanter. "Insanely useful… but heavy stat penalties and exp debuffs."
The third showed a rugged explorer—a Buccaneer. "Ugh. Lousy base stats."
The fourth door was blank.
Kenji smiled.
"'None,' huh?" he muttered. "Perfect."
He stepped into the empty door.
In the throne room, his body shimmered. Zenith gasped. "He chose… no class?"
Leidnhardt raised an eyebrow. "How odd."
Kenji opened his eyes, grinning. "I'll forge my own path. I don't want to be limited."
Zenith stepped back, amazed. "You're… fascinating."
The others stared, confused but intrigued.
Kenji looked at Amy, then at the king. "Alright. We're stuck here, but that doesn't mean we can't make the most of it. Just one thing—don't lie to us, and don't treat us like pawns."
Leidnhardt's gaze turned solemn. "You have my word. You are not pawns. You are our hope."