World History with Tanaka-sensei was usually one of the more tolerable classes. The middle-aged teacher with graying hair actually seemed to care about the subject, bringing energy to discussions about ancient civilizations.
Today's lesson was supposed to be about Mesopotamia.
Kura settled into his usual seat—third row from the back, right side, by the window. Daisuke took his seat behind Kura, dropping his bag with a heavy thud. He was still in a mood, Kura noticed. Even more scowling than usual.
Shirayuki entered with her friends, her presence immediately drawing attention. She smiled and greeted people as she made her way to the second row. Even the way she moved seemed graceful.
Behind him, Kura heard Daisuke mutter something that sounded like "perfect."
Sakurai came in next, laughing loudly with Yamamoto Ren and another teammate. He dropped into a seat near the middle, immediately becoming the center of attention.
Fujimoto Yuki was already seated in the front row, posture perfect, notes organized. A few students tried to approach her, but she answered with clipped efficiency that discouraged conversation.
Nakamura slipped into the seat next to Kura, slightly out of breath. "Made it."
The bell rang. Tanaka-sensei stood up from his desk. "Alright, everyone, settle down. Today we're discussing the Code of Hammurabi—"
The lights flickered.
Kura frowned. That was odd.
Tanaka-sensei paused, glancing at the ceiling. "Probably just a—"
The lights flickered again. The projector screen went dark. Through the windows, the hallway lights were also flickering.
"Everyone stay calm," Tanaka-sensei said, though he sounded more puzzled than concerned. "It's probably just—"
A low hum filled the air.
It wasn't a sound exactly—or rather, it was a sound but also something more. Kura felt it in his chest, in his bones, a vibration that seemed to resonate with something fundamental. The hair on his neck stood up.
"What is that?" someone asked.
The floor began to glow.
Kura looked down and felt his heart skip. Beneath his feet, intricate geometric patterns were emerging, drawn in lines of golden light. The patterns spread across the entire classroom floor, complex circles within circles, strange symbols that looked like no writing system Kura had ever seen.
"What the hell?" Sakurai stood up, staring at the glowing floor.
The light grew brighter, climbing the walls like living vines, spreading across the ceiling. The air shimmered, and Kura felt pressure building in his ears.
"Everyone to the door!" Tanaka-sensei shouted, but students pulling at it desperately found it sealed shut. The windows wouldn't budge either.
"This isn't possible," Fujimoto said, her usual composure cracking as her phone died in her hand.
The golden light flared with blinding intensity.
Kura threw his arm up but it did nothing. The light pierced through everything, filling his world with radiance. The humming reached a crescendo, and then—
The floor disappeared.
Kura's stomach lurched as he fell through space that wasn't space, through light and color and something his brain couldn't process. Around him, silhouettes of classmates, all falling through the same impossible void.
Behind him, he thought he heard Daisuke curse.
Time lost meaning. The fall lasted forever and no time at all.
Then, with jarring suddenness, the falling stopped.
Kura hit solid ground hard, the wind knocked from his lungs. He lay gasping, vision swimming, trying to process what just happened.
Around him, others groaned, coughed, cried out in confusion.
Slowly, painfully, Kura pushed himself up and looked around.
They were no longer in the classroom.
They were in a vast chamber—cathedral-sized, with vaulted ceilings disappearing into shadow. Massive pillars lined the walls, carved with glowing designs. The floor was polished marble inlaid with precious metals. The air felt heavy, charged with something that made Kura's skin tingle.
And they were surrounded.
Figures in elaborate white and gold robes stood in a circle—maybe two dozen of them. They were human, or close to it. But their features were too perfect, too refined, and their eyes held an unsettling intensity.
"Welcome, heroes from another world."
The voice came from a tall man at the front—silver hair, eyes that seemed to glow with golden light, robes more ornate than the others. When he spoke, it was in a language Kura didn't recognize, yet somehow understood perfectly.
"I am Archbishop Eldrin of the Holy Church of Sanctus. On behalf of the Kingdom of Heiligh and all humanity, I apologize for the abruptness of your summoning. But our need is dire, and you are our last hope."
Silence.
Near Kura, Daisuke had gotten to his feet, face pale but eyes sharp, taking in everything.
Sakurai found his voice first. "What is this? Some elaborate prank?"
"I assure you, Sakurai Takeshi, this is no prank." The Archbishop's use of Sakurai's name made several students gasp. "You have been summoned from your world to ours through ancient magic. You stand now in the Grand Cathedral of Heiligh, in the world of Tortus."
"Impossible," Fujimoto said, though her voice wavered.
"You are welcome to believe what you wish, Fujimoto Yuki. But your own senses will convince you soon enough. You have been transported to another world—a world of magic, monsters, and war."
"War?" Tanaka-sensei had recovered enough to speak.
The Archbishop's expression grew grave. "For centuries, our world knew peace. But that peace has shattered. Demons from the northern wastelands have begun their invasion. Led by their king, they seek nothing less than the complete annihilation of humanity."
He gestured, and an image appeared in the air—three-dimensional and impossibly detailed. Massive creatures with twisted forms, armies of monsters marching across scorched earth, cities burning, people fleeing in terror.
Several students cried out. Shirayuki covered her mouth, eyes wide with horror. Even Sakurai looked shaken. Kura noticed Daisuke's hands had clenched into fists.
"We have fought bravely," the Archbishop continued. "Our knights, our mages, our soldiers have given their lives by the thousands. But we are losing. The demons are too strong, too numerous. At this rate, within a year, humanity will be extinct."
The image dissolved.
"That's why we summoned you. In our darkest hour, we turned to ancient texts, to forbidden rituals. We called across the void between worlds, seeking those with the potential to become heroes. Champions who could turn the tide and save our world."
"You want us to fight in your war?" Nakamura's voice was small, frightened. "We're just high school students."
"That is why you were chosen. The summoning specifically calls for those with great potential—individuals who, in this world, can develop abilities far beyond normal humans. When you crossed from your world to ours, you were blessed by the gods, granted powers that will allow you to grow strong enough to face the demon army."
He gestured to a large crystal floating in the chamber's center—multi-faceted, pulsing with soft blue light. "This is the Divine Artifact. It will reveal the abilities you've been granted through what we call the Status system. Please approach and place your hand upon it."
Nobody moved.
Finally, Sakurai stepped forward. Of course—the confident one, the leader. He walked to the crystal and placed his palm on its surface.
The artifact flared, and text appeared in glowing letters above it:
NAME: Sakurai Takeshi
AGE: 17
LEVEL: 1
CLASS: Holy Knight
SKILLS: Divine Blade Arts, Holy Aura, Leadership, Enhanced Physical Abilities
STATS:
Strength: 150 | Vitality: 145 | Defense: 140
Agility: 135 | Magic: 100 | Magic Defense: 110
A murmur ran through the chamber.
"Magnificent," the Archbishop breathed. "A Holy Knight—one of the rarest classes. You have been truly blessed."
Sakurai stared at the text, and slowly, a smile spread across his face. "Holy Knight. That sounds pretty badass."
One by one, others approached:
Fujimoto Yuki—Battle Mage, with magic over 200.
Tanaka-sensei—Sage, support magic specialist.
Yamamoto Ren—Dragoon, impressive combat stats.
Kobayashi Hana—Priestess, healing abilities.
Then came Daisuke's turn.
Kura watched as Daisuke approached with a strange expression—part hope, part desperation. He placed his hand on the crystal.
NAME: Daisuke Hiroshi
CLASS: Berserker
SKILLS: Rage Enhancement, Pain Resistance, Battle Fury, Weapon Mastery
STATS:
Strength: 120 | Vitality: 115 | Defense: 100
Agility: 110 | Magic: 40 | Magic Defense: 45
"A Berserker," the Archbishop approved. "An excellent combat class. Your rage-based abilities will make you formidable."
Daisuke's face showed relief. Not top-tier like Sakurai, but solid. Respectable. Combat-capable. As he stepped back, Kura caught him glancing toward where Shirayuki stood, something flickering in his expression.
Hope.
The pattern continued. Combat classes with impressive stats. Excited chatter as students discovered their powers.
Nakamura received Alchemist, his stats around 20-30.
Then Shirayuki's turn.
She approached gracefully and placed her hand on the crystal:
NAME: Shirayuki Ayame
CLASS: Saintess
MAGIC: 250
The chamber erupted in gasps.
"A Saintess... with such extraordinary power. This is unprecedented. You are truly blessed, Shirayuki Ayame."
Shirayuki blushed, overwhelmed by attention. Students crowded around her. Sakurai looked pleased. Fujimoto looked analytical.
And Daisuke was staring at Shirayuki with an expression Kura couldn't quite read. Longing? Determination? Whatever it was, it was intense.
"Tomohiro-kun?"
Kura looked up to find Shirayuki near the crystal, having just finished being congratulated. She was looking at him with gentle concern.
"You should go," she said softly. "I'm sure you'll receive wonderful abilities too."
Kura nodded and walked forward. The crowd parted, though several students weren't really looking at him.
He placed his hand on the crystal.
Power surged through him—a rush of energy that lit up every nerve. For one brilliant moment, Kura felt potential, felt possibility.
The crystal pulsed:
NAME: Kura Tomohiro
CLASS: Synergist
SKILLS: Transmutation, Material Analysis, Ore Appraisal, Precision Crafting
STATS:
All stats: 10
Silence.
Then someone laughed.
"Synergist? What kind of class is that?"
"Look at those stats—they're all ten! That's baseline human!"
The Archbishop cleared his throat. "The Synergist class is... rare. It specializes in manipulation and enhancement of materials, in crafting and creation. A valuable support role."
Support role. Useless in combat.
Kura stepped back, face burning. Even here, in a world of magic torn from light novels, he was still ordinary. Still worthless.
He caught Shirayuki's expression—genuine sympathy, which somehow made it worse.
Sakurai grinned. "Every team needs someone to carry the bags, right?"
A few laughed.
And Kura noticed Daisuke watching him. Not mockery like Sakurai, but something else. Relief. Satisfaction.
At least I'm not that guy, Daisuke's expression seemed to say.
"Now that everyone has been assessed," the Archbishop said, "we will begin your training. You will learn to use your abilities, to fight, to become the heroes we need."
As others cheered excitedly, Kura stood alone at the edge, staring at his hands.
Synergist. A crafter.
In a world that needed warriors, he was given tools.
The irony would have been funny if it wasn't so crushing.