The sword came without warning.
While Noa's gaze lingered on the teacher's strained composure, a flash of silver tore through the air toward him—clean, precise, merciless. He saw it clearly. Every ridge along the blade. The way torchlight rippled across its polished surface. The faint vibration humming through the steel as it cut through space.
His eyes tracked it.
His body did not.
It was almost amusing.
Hey, hey… what's going on? Am I gonna die here?
The thought carried no panic. Only curiosity—like a reader wondering whether a side character had just triggered a bad ending.
The blade drew closer.
Closer.
Then—
Stopped.
Right in front of his neck.
So near that a single shift forward would have opened his throat like a sealed letter.
The hall inhaled sharply as one.
Noa did not move.
He didn't need to.
That wasn't a warning swing.
That was intent.
Killing intent.
Strange…
The knight holding the sword had bright red hair, tied back neatly, and a face carved from discipline. His expression did not change. His arm did not tremble. He might as well have been holding a measuring tool rather than a weapon capable of ending a life.
Without sparing Noa another glance, the knight spoke sharply to the teacher.
"Kneel before speaking to His Majesty."
His voice cracked through the air like a whip.
A wave of fear rippled through the students.
"Kyaaa… w-what are you doing?!"
Cries erupted. Some stumbled backward. One boy actually tripped over his own shoes and had to be dragged upright by a friend. The earlier excitement about "Systems" evaporated instantly, replaced by the ancient understanding that sharp metal ends lives.
Noa tilted his head slightly, examining the knight from the corner of his eye.
Sure, he understood the principle.
Respect the king.
Bow to authority.
Observe the rules of a foreign land.
But—
You kidnap us from our world, drag us here by force, and now you expect us to magically understand your culture? Point swords at us if we don't?
Don't fuck with me.
I'm not your slave.
The anger in his chest was not explosive.
It was molten.
Heavy. Slow. Dangerous.
They hadn't chosen to come here.
They hadn't agreed to any contract.
Being summoned did not equate to surrender.
He would not kneel—not in his heart.
As the fury simmered, a commanding voice rang out, firm and absolute.
"Darius! That's enough. Stand down!"
The knight—Darius—paused.
For the briefest second, the tension between obedience and instinct flickered across his eyes.
Then he sheathed his sword with a clean metallic slide and stepped back.
The king leaned slightly forward on his throne, the movement deliberate.
"My apologies. I understand your confusion. Please allow the head mage to explain the situation."
A man stepped forward from the side.
He appeared to be in his late forties. His robes flowed in layered fabrics embroidered with silver symbols that shimmered faintly under the chandeliers. He carried a staff not as a crutch but as a symbol—authority disguised as wood.
His gaze swept over the students with measured composure.
He had seen this before.
Fear.
Hope.
Denial.
He had already categorized them.
Then he began to explain.
...
When he finished, the silence was heavier than before.
According to him, this was a kingdom in the far north of the world—Cyradis.
The world itself was called Mythara.
A world of swords and magic. Of kings and monsters. Of heroes and calamities.
They had been summoned to become… heroes?
The word sounded glorious.
It felt like a chain.
To accelerate their growth, each of them had been granted a "System," also known as an Essence Fragment. Skills were ranked from Common to Legendary. Magic tiers ranged from Tier-1 to Tier-6.
It was everything a fantasy novel promised.
It was nothing like a dream.
The explanation only deepened the unease.
Then a girl stepped forward.
Kurose Hana.
Long pink hair cascading down her back. Pink eyes glistening with tears that refused to fall. Her fingers twisted nervously at the hem of her uniform.
"Um… mister… can we go back home?"
Her voice trembled like a candle flame in wind.
Others quickly followed.
"Yeah, what if we want to return?"
"M-my family is waiting for me…"
"U-uh… yeah…"
The hope in their voices was fragile.
Yeah right. Like they'd let us go back. You don't summon people across worlds for fun.
Noa watched them, almost amused by the optimism clinging to them like stubborn dust.
The head mage—Elear—answered calmly.
"It is impossible."
Two words.
That was all.
They landed like a hammer striking glass.
Hope shattered.
Some students gasped. One girl collapsed into sobs. A boy cursed loudly before slapping his own cheeks as if trying to wake from a nightmare.
A few—the stronger-minded ones—began firing questions at Elear, voices overlapping chaotically.
"How long are we expected to stay?"
"What exactly are we fighting?"
"Is there any research on dimensional return magic?"
The mage raised a hand, maintaining composure.
Then—
A boy stepped forward.
Blonde hair catching the light. Blue eyes steady and bright. His posture straight-backed, as if he had practiced standing like a protagonist his entire life.
Even his jawline seemed professionally sculpted.
"Your Majesty," he said clearly, projecting confidence without arrogance, "could you grant us a room to rest for now? We need time to sort out our feelings and discuss what comes next."
Noa stared at him.
Holy shit… it's the textbook 'save-the-world' protagonist.
Even the teacher visibly relaxed, as if someone competent had finally grabbed the wheel of a sinking ship.
"I understand," the king replied. "You may take your time."
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
Shun Aoyama.
If destiny were a casting director, it had chosen him without hesitation.
***
After the otherworlders were escorted away—
The massive doors of the hall shut with a low, resonant thud.
"Darius," the king said quietly, voice stripped of ceremony, "why did you do that? You're not usually so rash."
Darius remained standing tall, but tension pulled at his jaw.
"King Manus… that boy is dangerous. I strongly advise banishing him from the kingdom."
The king exhaled slowly.
"So you sensed it as well. His aura is immense—though others possess similar levels, his feels… corrupted."
He leaned back, rubbing his temples as if the weight of governance pressed directly against his skull.
"Even so, we cannot act recklessly. If we harm him without cause, the others will lose trust in us—or worse, rebel. Framing him and banishing him may be the only option… and even that is dangerous."
"I understand, Your Majesty," Darius replied.
But beneath his disciplined exterior—
Tsk. I can't fail this time. If I miss this chance, everything is over.
His fingers tightened slightly around the hilt at his waist.
***
In the room prepared for them—
Velvet curtains. Polished floors. Beds softer than anything they'd ever slept on.
Luxury.
Protection.
Comfort.
A gilded cage is still a cage.
I need to get out of here.
The thought circled Noa's mind like a hawk.
This kind of story never ends well for people who obediently follow orders.
Heroes become tools.
Tools become sacrifices.
He hadn't come to this world to serve.
He had come to enjoy himself.
So whether their intentions were good or not—
He was leaving.
The problem was how.
After witnessing Darius's speed, sneaking past even three hundred soldiers felt unrealistic.
Which left one option.
Convince these idiots to come with him.
…and protagonist number 695 is in my way.
He stepped forward slightly.
"Guys, I think we should get ou—"
"Yes," Shun interrupted smoothly, stepping ahead with practiced timing. "We should hear them out. If there's a way home, we'll find it. And if not, we should accept King Manus' generous offer and live here peacefully."
Noa clenched his fist behind his back.
Oh yeah. Praise the guy who kidnapped you. Genius.
Around them—
Crying girls.
Egotistical boys flexing invisible muscles after reading their stats.
Naïve heroes dazzled by the word "chosen."
Convincing them would be like trying to convince sheep that the shepherd might be sharpening a knife.
…This is going to be hell.
---
Aoi Misora stood near the window, watching everything unfold.
Now she could see it clearly.
That corrupted aura of his… that's the feeling I've been sensing all along.
It wasn't darkness.
It was depth.
Like staring into a well so deep that sound itself refused to echo.
Aoyama was calming the group efficiently, his presence acting like a stabilizing pillar. But the tension in the air suggested time was limited. Kings did not grant patience indefinitely.
And this strange system window in front of her…
What kind of technology is this?
[Name: Aoi Misora]
[Race: Human]
[Age: 17]
[Affiliation: Otherworlder]
[Titles: ---]
[Essence Fragment: Active]
[Synchronization: Initial Sync]
Attributes
• Strength: 5
• Agility: 7
• Endurance: 4
• Mana: 6
• Intelligence: 13
• Authority: ???
• Existence: ???
Skills
[Perception Boost (Unommon)]
Enhances awareness of surroundings slightly.
[Narrative Awareness (Common)]
Instinctive sense when an event holds significance.
[Calm Mind (Common)]
Stabilizes thoughts under stress.
[Low Mental Resistance (Common)]
Minor resistance against fear, pressure, and mental interference.
[Observer's Eye (Rare)]
Asses attributes on a target weaker/equalCooldown: 24h
She frowned slightly.
Narrative Awareness… what does that even mean?
It sounded less like a skill and more like an author's wink.
Anyhow, she needed to use Observer's Eye efficiently.
Looking around, some classmates stared at translucent panels like children discovering new toys. Others muttered to invisible voices in their heads.
Different systems?
Different functions?
Perhaps the fragments weren't equal.
It was unlikely she could see the king's status with Observer's Eye—
But she would try when the chance arose.
---
As time passed, tension thickened the air.
Each student retreated into their own thoughts.
Hiroshi Takeda, after steadying his breathing, clapped his hands together.
"Listen up, everyone. As the adult here and your teacher, I am partly responsible for your future here."
His voice trembled at first but gained strength as he continued.
"Looking at what happened, it seems we have two options: either stay here under guidance or go our separate ways to find a way home. I think the latter isn't the best option. So first, let's discuss how each of you feels and agree upon one of the two—"
Knock—knock—knock.
The sound was measured.
Controlled.
The door opened slowly.
Darius stepped inside.
His bright red hair caught the light. His shining armor reflected the room's luxury. His bluish eyes scanned the group—and paused, briefly, on Noa.
As if confirming something.
Then he turned to the teacher.
"Your given time is over. Please follow us to the royal hall to assess your bestowed powers."
There was a "please."
Yet there was no choice.
Several students gasped. A few straightened proudly, eager to display their numbers.
Disorder was inevitable.
In a world without familiar laws, people revealed themselves quickly.
Some sought pride.
Some sought strength.
Some sought revenge.
Some sought justice.
And some—
Sought freedom.
Noa belonged to the last.
He had wanted something simple.
Friends.
A life worth enjoying.
But because of a bad omen etched into his eyes, the world had labeled him before hearing him.
There had been stares.
Whispers.
Avoidance.
No…
There had been one idiot who didn't care and spoke to him anyway.
Why?
Why couldn't you have stayed?
The thought flickered like a fading ember.
He exhaled slowly.
Calm down. Focus on what you can control. Change what's in your reach.
…
Darius's boots struck the floor.
Clink.
Clink.
Clink.
Each step echoed authority.
Each clang of armor reminded them that this was no dream.
This wasn't just a summon.
This was a test.
And somewhere in the quiet space between fear and ambition—
Something dark inside Noa smiled.