Huh…?
That was the only word that left Seiji's lips as his eyes fluttered open.
For a moment, he couldn't breathe.
The air was different thick, cold, ancient. It wasn't the soft hum of his air-conditioned room, nor the familiar scent of the morning breeze outside his window. It smelled of burnt wax, stone, and incense. The faint crackle of candles echoed faintly, bouncing off high marble walls that stretched beyond sight.
He lay there, motionless, feeling the chill seep into his skin. Then slowly, his fingers brushed the ground. Not wooden floors stone. Perfectly carved, but old, scarred by time. His head throbbed like a drum, and his heartbeat rang louder than the silence around him.
Then came the voice.
"Wonderful. Another one."
It wasn't welcoming. It wasn't even curious. It was disappointment wrapped in authority cold, cutting, and all too human.
Seiji's eyes shifted toward the sound.
A man sat upon a golden throne at the far end of the hall, flanked by banners and torchlight. His cloak draped like blood over silver armor; his crown glinted like gold under the flames. His face weathered, proud, and carved with a permanent frown spoke of countless sleepless nights.
King Ragnvald.
At least, that was the name whispered by the old man kneeling beside the throne a priest, his back bent, his robes tattered yet holy. The man's trembling hands clutched an ornate staff topped with an emblem that glowed faintly blue.
"Tell me, Father Lucien." the king said, resting his chin on his fist, his tone heavy with exhaustion. "Why summon yet another? How many corpses must we bury before you abandon this madness?"
The priest's lips quivered, but his gaze held firm. "Your Majesty… I still believe. A true hero shall come. Not one who craves gold, nor hollow glory, nor fleeting reputation. But one who walks with the wish to shoulder burdens, to heal wounds, to bring hope—"
"Hope?" The king's laughter was harsh, sharp. It echoed like chains breaking. "I've seen enough of your 'hope.' Do you know what hope buys us, priest? Graves. Fields of them. Dozens of fools who swore they were chosen by fate, and now feed the worms beneath my kingdom!"
His words struck like thunder.
The room trembled, and Seiji felt it in his chest that tension, that quiet fury.
The priest lowered his gaze. His voice softened to almost a whisper. "And yet… I cannot stop. My faith demands I try, even when faith itself is mocked."
For a moment, silence swallowed them both. Only the low hum of flickering candles filled the chamber.
Seiji blinked, trying to grasp his bearings. He looked down his uniform was still the same: his white shirt slightly wrinkled, sleeves rolled, and the faint smear of ink on his right hand. His desk, his room, his parents all gone.
"Wha…" He exhaled sharply. His voice cracked. "Where… the hell am I?"
Both figures turned their gaze to him.
The priest's old, watery eyes widened with relief, as though he'd just seen a miracle. "Ah… He awakens."
The king, however, merely narrowed his eyes. His tone was dry, venomous. "Another child. Fantastic. At this rate, I should open an orphanage rather than a throne room."
Seiji sat up slowly. His head still rang with dizziness, but his mind raced. The candlelight shimmered against the marble floors, creating long shadows that reached toward him like grasping hands.
He glanced at the glowing circle beneath him intricate lines, runes, symbols written in a language he couldn't read. His pulse quickened. "This… can't be real." (No.. it must be real.)
But it was. The heat of the circle's faint glow brushed his fingertips.
He remembered the last thing before it all went dark his parents shouting, the flash of light, his body dissolving.
His throat tightened. "So… this is it. This is.. the new world."
The king's voice snapped him out of thought. "Boy. What is your name?"
Seiji looked up, his posture instinctively straightening under that heavy gaze. "…Seiji. Seiji Daiki."
The king's lip twitched slightly, then he sighed. "Another foreign name. Another foreign soul."
Father Lucien rose shakily, clutching his staff for balance. "Your Majesty, please… allow me to explain. The ritual—"
"Enough." Ragnvald cut in sharply. "You've explained enough across the years. We've heard it all before. The 'chosen hero,' the 'summoned savior.' And yet what have we gained? Burned cities. Dead knights. False hope." He turned toward Seiji, eyes narrowing. "Tell me, boy. Do you even understand where you are?"
Seiji's mouth went dry. "…No."
"Then allow me to enlighten you.." the king said, his tone low and heavy. "You stand in the heart of Valdheim, capital of the kingdom of Ragnora once a land of scholars, now a land carved by blood and beasts. The moment you were pulled into this world, your life ceased to belong to your own."
The words hit like cold steel.
But Seiji didn't flinch. He just stared back, eyes steady confused, yes, but not afraid.
The king noticed that. His gaze softened just slightly. "You don't seem surprised."
"I've expected something like this." Seiji muttered under his breath.
Ragnvald blinked. "Expected?"
Father Lucien's eyes widened with curiosity. "You mean… you knew?"
Seiji hesitated, then sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "I had dreams. Hallucinations. Warnings. Whatever you call them. I wrote it all down, just in case it was real. I'll suppose it was."
The priest's breath caught almost reverent. "Th-then the prophecy…"
The king grunted. "Don't twist his confusion into your scripture, Lucien." He waved a hand dismissively, his rings catching the candlelight. "The boy is disoriented, nothing more. He'll come to his senses soon enough and start begging to go home like the rest."
"I'm not begging." Seiji muttered quietly.
But the words carried.
The king froze, eyes narrowing once again. "What did you say?"
"I've said loud and clear that.." Seiji repeated, his voice clearer, firmer. "I'm not begging to go home."
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut air.
Lucien stared in disbelief. The knights by the chamber walls shifted uneasily, their armor creaking softly. Even the flames seemed to falter.
Ragnvald rose from his throne slowly, each step echoing through the hall. He descended the dais, the clink of his boots filling the vast chamber until he stood before Seiji. The king's shadow loomed long and dark over him.
"And why.." the king asked quietly, "is that?"
Seiji met his gaze. There was fear in his chest, but he didn't let it reach his voice.
"Because if I was brought here for a reason." he said slowly, "then running away makes that reason meaningless."
Lucien's hands trembled, his eyes glimmering. "My king…!"
But Ragvnald held up a hand, silencing him.
For a long, heavy moment, he studied the boy the strange fire in his eyes, the steadiness that shouldn't belong to someone so young.
Finally, the king exhaled. "Hmph. Brave words. Empty, perhaps, but brave."
He turned his back. "Prepare him, Father. If he's to stay in my kingdom, he must understand its rules. And if he dies…" He paused at the foot of the dais. "Then it will be on your faith, not mine."
With that, the king returned to his throne.
Lucien bowed deeply, relief washing over his wrinkled face. "As you command, Your Majesty."
Then he turned to Seiji, smiling faintly a fragile warmth in the cold hall. "Come, young one. You've crossed a threshold few could even comprehend. Let us not waste what destiny has granted."
Seiji followed, glancing back at the towering king once more. Their eyes met briefly one burdened by centuries of loss, the other still unscarred by this world's weight.
As he stepped beyond the summoning circle, the faint hum beneath his feet faded. The magic died.
For the first time since he arrived, Seiji realized something strange.
He wasn't terrified.
Just… curious.
So this is how it begins. he thought. Not with courage. Not with glory. Just confusion and a throne full of strangers.
As the doors to the grand hall opened, spilling moonlight into the chamber, Seiji looked up at the sky through the arched windows two moons hung above the world, one crimson, one silver.
And in that instant, as Father Lucien guided him down the torchlit corridor, Seiji muttered quietly to himself:
"Guess it's really happening, huh? …Alright then. Let's see what kind of world this is."
The echo of Seiji's footsteps followed him as Father Lucien led him through the grand corridor of the castle.
The air was thick with incense and age stone pillars carved with forgotten sigils, walls lined with tapestries depicting battles long past. Every step Seiji took resounded softly, swallowed by the immensity of the place.
The torches flickered along the passage, and for the first time since awakening, Seiji began to feel the weight of it all. He wasn't home. He wasn't dreaming. He wasn't hallucinating.
He was here.
Father Lucien's robe brushed lightly against the marble floor as he walked ahead, his voice low and calm.
"You must forgive His Majesty. King Ragnvald's faith in prophecy has… waned over the years."
Seiji followed in silence for a moment, trying to absorb every sound and sight. "He seemed more pissed than doubtful." he muttered.
Lucien gave a small, tired chuckle. "Perhaps both. You see, this kingdom has seen over a dozens summons in my lifetime. Each with great promise, each ending… tragically."
That word lingered.
"Tragically?" Seiji asked, raising an eyebrow.
Lucien nodded faintly, not looking back. "Summoned ones rarely adapt to our world. Their bodies reject mana, their minds crack under its strain. And even those who survive… often fall prey to despair."
"Despair, huh…" Seiji murmured, pocketing his hands as they turned down another corridor. "So I'm basically a ticking time bomb?"
Lucien didn't answer. Instead, he slowed near a massive wooden door, old and ironbound. "You will understand soon enough.." he said softly, pushing it open.
A rush of air swept through.
Sunlight flooded the corridor warm, golden, alive.
"Behold, child." Father Lucien said, his voice echoing faintly under the archway. "The world your kind often dream of."
Seiji stepped forward, blinking against the light. His breath caught.
Beyond the castle gates stretched a sprawling city bathed in the glow of morning. Towers rose like ivory spears, their roofs glinting with blue tiles. Merchants shouted cheerfully from colorful stalls that lined the cobblestone streets. Children darted between wagons, laughing as they chased each other. A group of adventurers their armor gleaming passed by with boisterous laughter, the smell of roasted bread and spiced meat drifting in the air.
It looked alive. It looked real.
A fantasy world brought to life.
Seiji's eyes wandered, taking it all in. For a brief second, he could almost forget he'd left Earth at all.
"This… this is unreal." he whispered.
Lucien smiled faintly. "It is quite real, my child. The capital city of Valdheim, jewel of Ragnora. It has endured famine, war, and corruption yet still it stands."
Seiji leaned slightly over the balcony, eyes gleaming with awe. "It's like something straight out of a JRPG…" he murmured.
Lucien tilted his head. "A what now?"
"Ah— never mind." Seiji said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just… something from where I'm from."
The old priest chuckled softly. "Then I am pleased it brings you some wonder."
But that wonder began to fade as Seiji's gaze drifted further past the laughter, past the glimmering streets.
There, in the distance, beyond the merchant's square, he saw it.
A fenced section of the market. Cages.
Figures inside them.
Men, women, children their wrists bound in chains, their expressions hollow and cold. Signs hung above them bearing words he couldn't read, but he didn't need translation to understand.
Slaves.
His stomach turned.
"Hey…" Seiji began, his voice lower now. "isn't that…?"
Lucien's expression darkened. "That is not a sight you need to see. Not yet."
Seiji frowned. "Not yet? That's not an answer."
The priest's tone sharpened slightly. "You are not ready, child. This world… is not as simple as it seems. Even beauty here hides cruelty, as faith hides sin."
Seiji turned his gaze back to the market, his jaw tightening. "So that's what you mean by tragedy."
Lucien didn't respond. He only placed a hand on Seiji's shoulder, his touch light but firm. "You were brought here for a purpose one that cannot be fulfilled if you lose yourself in the darkness of this world so soon."
"Lose myself?" Seiji muttered. "You're asking me to ignore it."
"I am asking you to understand it." Lucien replied gently. "Before you act, you must see. Before you change anything, you must endure."
Seiji said nothing for a while. The cheerful clamor of the city below felt suddenly muted, distant, hollow.
"Fine." he said finally, crossing his arms. "Then at least tell me this—"
He looked up at Lucien, meeting his gaze.
"Do I have magic or not?"
The question lingered between them.
Lucien blinked slowly. "Magic?"
"Yeah." Seiji said, half-sarcastic, half-serious. "Mana, elements, skills the usual deal. Every single story I've read has some kind of system. I get summoned, I get powers. You know, 'chosen one' and all that crap."
Lucien's face softened. But not with amusement with pity.
"Ah.." he said quietly. "So that is the dream of your world. Power without burden."
Seiji frowned. "What do you mean by—"
Lucien raised a finger. "Come. Walk with me."
They descended the steps into the courtyard, the sounds of the city growing louder. Knights patrolled the stone walkways; servants carried crates of bread and herbs. Everything felt vividly alive, yet under it all was a rhythm the world itself seemed to hum, faint and endless.
As they reached the lower gate, Lucien continued, his tone quiet, reverent. "You speak of mana as if it were mere fuel something to command. But mana is not power, child. It is the world's lifeblood. Every living thing beast, man, plant breathes it. To channel it is not learned; it is recognized."
"Recognized?" Seiji echoed.
"Yes." Lucien nodded. "The world must see you, accept you. Only then can mana flow through your body freely. That is how mages cast spells, how knights channel strength, how healers mend wounds."
He stopped walking. His eyes met Seiji's, suddenly grave.
"But you… and all who are summoned… are not of this world."
The air seemed to still.
Lucien's voice grew softer, like a confession. "The laws of nature here do not acknowledge you. You are an anomaly. A shadow cast from a foreign sun. To this world, your existence is… incomplete."
Seiji blinked, confusion written across his face. "Incomplete? What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means.." Lucien said slowly, "you cannot channel mana naturally."
The words hit harder than expected.
Seiji stared blankly for a moment. "…Wait. So you're saying I have no magic?"
"None that this world will recognize."
Seiji exhaled sharply, a mix of disbelief and irritation in his voice. "That's insane. Every other isekai hero gets some overpowered skill or blessing or—"
Lucien raised an eyebrow. "Isekai?"
Seiji froze mid-sentence. "...Forget it."
The old priest smiled faintly. "Your world sounds… imaginative."
"Yeah.." Seiji said dryly. "Imaginative."
But behind the sarcasm, his mind raced.
No mana? No powers? Not even recognition from the world itself?
He glanced around again the bright streets, the soaring towers, the people laughing. It was the same scene, but now it felt different. Detached. Like he was standing outside the frame of reality, unable to touch it.
"So what's the point then?" he asked finally. "Why summon someone who can't even use the thing that keeps your world running?"
Lucien's eyes flickered toward the sky. "Because prophecy is rarely about what is, my child. It is about what could be."
He clasped his hands behind his back, continuing down the stone path. "The ritual you were drawn through it does not call the powerful. It calls the necessary. The one who must appear at the time most crucial to our fate. Perhaps not to wield magic… but to change those who do."
Seiji frowned. "You mean like… inspiration?"
Lucien smiled faintly. "Or correction."
The weight of that word hung heavy between them.
As they walked, Seiji caught glimpses of the people bowing respectfully to Lucien, whispering blessings under their breath. The priest would respond with a kind nod, though Seiji noticed something the way their eyes flicked briefly toward him. Curiosity, fear, and… something else.
Recognition, perhaps. Or rejection.
"Do they… know I'm not from here?" Seiji asked quietly.
"They can feel it." Lucien replied. "Summoned souls give off a presence unlike any other familiar, yet foreign. You will find that many will fear it. Others may worship it. Few will truly understand it."
"Great." Seiji muttered. "So I'm basically a walking 'foreign object' warning label."
Lucien chuckled softly. "You have humor, at least. That is good. You will need it."
As they neared the outer courtyard, Seiji looked once more toward the distant market toward those cages, those hollow eyes. The laughter and the cries blended together into a sound neither peaceful nor chaotic, but… real.
He took a deep breath. "If this world doesn't recognize me… then I'll just have to make it notice."
Lucien stopped mid-step. For the first time, he turned fully toward Seiji, studying him closely. The flicker of the sun caught the edge of his staff, casting light between them.
"Be wary of that thought." the priest said gently. "The last one who said those words burned half a kingdom trying to prove them true."
Seiji met his gaze evenly. "Then I'll just have to do it differently."
For a moment, Lucien only stared. Then he sighed, a smile creeping faintly back onto his lips. "You truly are not like the others."
"I'll take that as a compliment." Seiji said.
As they reached the outer gate, the priest gestured to the horizon. "Rest, for now. You will meet with the Royal Scholars tomorrow. They will study your condition, and perhaps if the fates are kind find a way to help you adapt."
Seiji looked out at the city again. The light glinted off the rooftops, and the distant hum of life filled the air. But his mind was elsewhere on the cages, on the king's words, on the absence of mana flowing through his veins.
"Not recognized by the world, huh…" he muttered.
Lucien turned slightly, the sun outlining his figure in gold. "Yes. That is the truth of your kind, Seiji Daiki. You exist here. but you do not belong here."
He paused, voice lowering like a whisper of prophecy.
"But sometimes… the ones who do not belong are the ones who change everything."
Seiji didn't answer.
He just stood there, staring at the horizon at the new world that had taken him from his own.
A world where he had no magic, no recognition, no guarantee of survival.
And yet, deep down, something stirred.
Not fear. Not despair.
A quiet defiance.
If this world refuses to see me.. he thought, then I'll make sure it never forgets me.