In an era submerged long before human memory learned to write, the world was once shrouded in a darkness without end. Upon his black throne sat a tyranny named Hadkusonomoro—a Demon King whose heart was hollow, knowing neither empathy nor mercy.
He commanded every monster that walked the land, crawled in the shadows, and roared in the night. With that legion, he stretched his dominion to every corner of the globe. His goal was singular: to subjugate every living being, without exception.
Humans, elves, dwarves, and every race that breathed under the same sky—all were treated equally in one regard: cruelty. They were enslaved, trampled upon, and used as pawns in a game to satisfy the ambitions of the Demon King and his followers. Fear became the daily language. Trauma was inherited from parents to their children, like an unbroken curse.
Yet even in the darkest night, a light, however small, still dared to be born.
From whispered prayers, from hidden cries, from hope that had nearly flickered out—a drop of light gathered and manifested as a blessed hero. He was not born a king, nor a legend. He lived like any other commoner—colonized, oppressed, and wounded.
But when his eyes could no longer bear the suffering of his people, he drew his sword. He pointed that blade not only at the Demon King but at fate itself. There, for the first time, hope truly came alive.
On the other side of the world, another was born from a different flame. Not from hope, but from vengeance. Not from prayer, but from rage.
He swore to wipe the Demon King's throne from the world, no matter the price. To him, the world did not need to be saved—only liberated, even if through blood. Their difference lay not in their goal, but in the way they pursued the dream.
The hero was named Alastair. And the figure who would later be dubbed the Neo-Hero was Arcturus.
Three hundred years passed.
The Demon King had indeed fallen by their hands. The world knew the word "peace" once again. But peace was never truly whole.
Fragments of darkness still hid within the shadows. The Demon King's vengeful army still breathed, waiting for the time to rise.
Alastair ascended the throne, married, and lived a seemingly happy life—unaware that Hadkusonomoro had prepared a backup plan long before his death.
Alastair's descendants were born and grew. They were called heroes, just as their ancestor was. Yet the blood of heroism does not always bequeath resolve. A name can be inherited… but courage is not always so.
And that is where this story begins.
A group of heroes traveled the world, spreading peace like a fairy tale, flowing like water. These heroes would eventually follow the footsteps of Alastair—a group possessing a unique diversity that never discriminated, with differing natures but never treated differently; each had their own uniqueness to save the world.
"Hehe! I am the descendant of someone equal to the hero Alastair!" A voice spoke firmly, sweeping aside all doubt, full of pride.
"My name is Heartly Racktus! Just call me Hely!"
"Someone who carries blood from a lineage no less great than Alastair's! Well, actually, my ancestor's existence isn't recorded in general knowledge... But! Special is still special!"
"Even if that figure's authenticity is still contradictory—BUT!! I believe my grandfather more! How could I trust people whose only job is reading books and deciding things as they please! Haha!"
Hely, a young man now wandering everywhere just to earn money, reached the moment his life would begin to change.
Inside a ruin.
The ruin was silent, far too silent for a place that had just "emerged" from the bowels of the earth. Torchlight reflected off stone walls covered in strange symbols—old, worn, and feeling inherently wrong.
"Who were you talking to?" Carl asked, glancing sideways.
"Like any ordinary madman," Hely replied nonchalantly. "Talking to myself. Telling myself how great I am while I'm at it."
"Stop daydreaming," Dosch muttered without looking back.
"Get to work," Derlia's voice cut in, cold and firm.
"Yeah, yeah. You guys are so loud."
Derlia stopped walking. "I'm cutting your pay."
"Whoa—don't go that far."
Hely looked around, staring at the dark stone corridor ahead of them.
"By the way… what are we actually doing here?"
"Reports say an ancient site just appeared in this area," Derlia answered.
"Appeared?" Hely scoffed. "You mean it just popped out of the ground or something?"
Derlia didn't answer. She pointed to a wall covered in ancient magical carvings, the lines still faintly glowing.
"Hmm… okay." Hely nodded slowly.
"So what's the profit for us? Don't tell me you want to turn this into a tourist spot."
"Artifacts," Derlia said shortly. "They could be highly valuable."
"Oh." Hely gave a wry smile.
"By the way… we have permission, right?" Hely asked.
"Of course," Dosch answered quickly.
He paused for a second, then added, "That was a lie."
Carl let out a long sigh. "We don't have permission to be in here."
"In that case," Hely scratched his head, "why is this place so empty? The security is loose."
"I don't know," Derlia said. "And strangely… that's both good news and bad."
She stepped into the center of the main room and stopped abruptly.
"This is a summoning pentagram."
Hely raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"
"The placement is hidden," Derlia replied. "And the size is too large for a mere ritual symbol."
She stared at the stone floor for a long time, as if listening to something others couldn't hear.
"What else can you conclude?" she continued.
Hely crossed his arms. "Could be a teleportation pentagram. A secret base, maybe."
"If so," Derlia said softly, "there should be remnants of objects at the teleportation point."
Silence fell again.
"I wonder, what would be like?" Dosch pondered, calculating.
"Like what? The price, man!" Hely snapped at Dosch.
"This is a summoning pentagram, I know it!" Derlia insisted, having observed the room thoroughly.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say. To me, it's a secret base for ambushes," Hely said lightheartedly.
"Why are you like this? I'll cut your wages!" Derlia snapped, angry simply because they disagreed.
"Hah? Fine, fire me then! I'm tired of working like this! Besides, the pay has been low since forever..." Hely complained, his voice trailing off at the end.
"Yeah... yeah... descendant of a hero, hidden powers, you keep hallucinating BLA.. BLA... BLA..." Derlia mocked, turning her gaze away with a bored look.
"Hey, that's my secret! You promised not to mock it! That was our agreement for working together!" Hely protested.
"Ha...? You're the one who keeps mumbling weird things constantly. No wonder people feel uncomfortable, so I just told them," Derlia said.
"Whaaat!!?? Don't just air it out!" Hely countered.
"You two, don't be so loud," Dosch pleaded, his face worried.
Derlia sighed softly, returning to her observation. "If this is a summoning pentagram, the activation method must be... Hmmm..."
"How would it be, huh?" Hely teased.
Derlia seemed to be preparing something, and Dosch did the same to help her.
But the preparation... looked odd.
"Why am I in the middle? Why are you guys surrounding me?" Hely asked, bewildered.
"Are you trying to sacrifice me!?" Hely screamed, beginning to feel restless.
"To ensure whether this summon is dangerous or not," Carl added, taking cover behind a wall.
"You said you have secret powers and stuff, surely you'll be safe!" Derlia said casually while hiding.
"Yeah, what he said!" Dosch chimed in.
"The way to activate the summon must be this," Derlia muttered.
"Magic! Activate!" Derlia shouted, releasing a bit of her magic.
"Do you really think just shouting will work? Besides, this is an ancient site, it won't just activate randomly," Hely said, acting relaxed as if Derlia had failed.
Suddenly, the roar of electricity echoed everywhere; every surface began to vibrate.
"Wait, what?! If it activates that easily, it should have activated naturally!" Hely shouted
"This summoning pentagram should have a specific ritual," Derlia muttered, confused.
Several bolts of electricity struck the pentagram, leaving Hely terrified of what to do.
"Oi! What am I supposed to do??!" Hely asked in a panic, ready to bolt.
The roaring intensified, the light of the pentagram glowing brighter with every lightning strike. Suddenly, the ruins began to collapse, as if a great storm had enveloped the room.
In a panic, Hely's comrades chose to save themselves, leaving Hely behind.
"What!? Don't leave me alone!" Hely prepared himself, not forgetting to grab his gear.
But the light from the summoning pentagram instantly blinded him. Hely couldn't see and stopped in his tracks. The light was a blinding green.
Hely winced while closing his eyes. "What is happening!?"
The atmosphere went silent instantly, revealing three people standing dazed. One of them looked around, momentarily confused; it was Alif.
Hely rubbed his eyes, unable to believe what he was seeing.
Alif looked at Hely, a strange smile forming on his face.
"Oh, help me, I've been kidnapped by aliens," Alif said, his face showing no panic at all.
"Whoa! Where are we?!" a voice exclaimed while looking in every direction; that was Iyas.
He looked around. The sky was a strange color, the ground was foreign, and the air felt… wrong.
"I think this is another planet."
A few steps behind, Icam let out a short laugh—more like a satisfied grunt.
"My plan to get rid of Alif and Iyas actually worked," he muttered. "Even though I got dragged along too."
Alif, looking the most relaxed among them, patted his own stomach.
"I wonder if there's any good food here?"
Iyas's eyes immediately lit up.
"Great idea, Alif! I need a lot. A lot!"
"A lot of what?" Alif glanced at him suspiciously.
"Not satisfied," Iyas answered firmly, as if it were the most logical answer in the world.
Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice cut through the air.
"You... where did you come from?!" Hely still shocked, preparing to stand wise.
They all turned at once.
Icam pointed at the figure before them with a chuckle.
"Hiho! There's a local here!"
Alif stepped forward, his face full of a very unheroic panic.
"Hey! Take me back home, hurry!"
Alif pointed at himself dramatically.
"I want to go home! My TV show is about to start!"
"Yeah!" Iyas added just as seriously. "If I knew it was going to be like this, I should have brought my house with me!"
Icam approached Hely, his eyes narrowing with interest.
"Hey, you. Can you do that thing again?" Icam asked, as if the preceding event were as simple as flipping a stone.
"Hah…?"
Hely stood frozen, clearly having not yet processed the chaos that had just dropped into his life.
END
Heroes? Who decides who they are? The promises of many? Fate?
No one knows who will change the world, or save the world. What a hero looks like, how many people are involved—none can be certain.
This is the story of three strange people who will save the world in their own way, adventuring, wandering, and solving problems. They do it all as if it were water flowing from the head of a river.
Would you like me to adjust the tone of any specific dialogue to better match the characters' personalities?