GIGANTOMACHY - An Isekai Quest

[TheEpicLotfi]

Introductions and rules
On Royal Road, it's called the Royal Road Isekai Quest, but since, early stage as it is, it hasn't gotten much attention, I'm thinking of branching off to different websites to keep the voting pool alive and well. I'm sorry if that's spam or anything.

Also, naturally, the title had to be changed to reflect a change in websites, so anywhere that this is not posted on RRL, it will be called Gigantomachy.

This is also the first Quest-type story that I've ever written. I'm extremely excited and nervous to see how it will play out. I'm leaving most of the vital actions and decisions up to the community. Majority wins unless otherwise stated (depending on how OOC other decisions might be, I will 'weigh' them down). Mid-chapter, action sequences will have hidden die-rolls to gauge success or failure. Write-ins will only be accepted if I have declared it an option for that chapter's vote.

I will post a link to an external straw poll for decisions, but I still implore the reader to write your vote on the thread so there can be a discussion. I do this because the story is connected through several different websites, so an external vote would be much easier to keep track of on my end.

Disclaimer:
I am extremely iffy if this will even work. There could be an imbalance of voters from each community I'm posting to. If the RRL voters drown out SV voters or vice versa for any other community I decide to upload to, it could be taken as unfair, and I wouldn't want that. I mean, a Quest is a community effort, but if I post to multiple communities, will people find it competitive or just not fun at all?

Because of that, I'm only going to upload this story to RRL and SV for now and check for feedback, whether good or bad. Please make sure to inform me down below if my misgivings hold water.

Synopsis
The premise is very typical of an Isekai. The fate of the distant world of Discordia is at stake as they mount their defenses against an enemy so powerful, even the human and demon kingdoms, who had been locked in combat for millennia, bury the hatchet and collaborate with other civilizations to ensure the survival of all mortals. Their solution to defeat the enemy is to summon ten individuals from another world whose growth potential has not been limited by the gods.


Character
GENDER
Male ☐

Female ▧

Other ☐

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Nationality

Japan ☐

America ☐

Random ▧

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Ethnicity

Caucasian ▧

Black ☐

Asian ☐

Latinx ☐

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Type of Student

Bookworm ☐ (Rational decisions, less prone to violence, increased learning capability)
Delinquent ☐ (Irrational decisions, prone to violence, increased physical ability)
Popular ☐ (Rational, charismatic, egotistic)
Average Joe ☐ (No outstanding features whatsoever. Decisions can be both rational or irrational, and there is no inclination to or from violence - a perfect puppet for a reader to decide their fate)
Nerd/Otaku ▧ (Informed decisions, rudimentary knowledge of the fantasy world, lazy, stunted social skills)

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Class

1. 
   
   
   • Bard ☐ (Uses support magic in the form of music)
   • Ronin ☐ (Uses sword, subtly spiritual)
   • Cleric ☐(Specializes in healing and support magic)
   • Battlemage ☐(Armoured mage, focuses purely on combat magic)
   • Gunslinger ☐(Armed combat specialist)
   • Poisoner ☐(Chemist specializing in toxin creation and administration)
   • Summoner ☐(Can branch into two path: Celestial Summoner and Infernal Summoner)
   • Assassin ☐(Uses short blades and ranged weapons and dabbles in toxins. Fast but not powerful)
   • Druid ☐(Natural magician, can communicate with flora, and can transform into different fauna once unlocked)
   • Mentalist ▧(Magic and psychology, holds dominion over the mind and can subtly manipulate without magic just as easily)

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Our character
Clara Stein, a German otaku with a love for light novels and writing. Her path will eventually take her to that of a mentalist, using the power of the mind to contribute against upcoming battles.

 

[TheEpicLotfi]

~Prologue~​

Babel hated profanity.

Yet, every curse word that had ever been devised came streaming out of his mouth. In the confines of his domain, he was confident that no one was there to hear him.

Things were bad, and he knew they were about to get worse.

He fiddled with the narrow vial on his necklace absently as he heard his summons to the Divine Amphitheatre.

His brother had an announcement to make.

He was in his library, a towering building just as wide as it was tall, with an unending array of books. Every wall as far as the eye could see was covered in shelves of them, an endless hallway with no end. Even looking up, one was unable to make out the ceiling as both opposite walls seemed to converge to a single sharp edge.

It was in his study, though, where he received the mental broadcast just as he finished committing the thousands of new books that had manifested in the library into his memory.

Using the divine spark in his soul, he appeared right outside of the library, which stood on a floating island suspended far above the milky sea, below. With a thought, he took flight from his floating island and pierced through the divine realm's many clouds on his way, the dusk painting them in an orange hue. He wasn't in a particular rush, but it wasn't because he was enjoying the view.

He was simply trying to stretch out the time before seeing his brother's hateful face again. It wasn't fair that someone as sadistic as him, with no remorse for the mortal dwellers, commanded all of their fates. He had spent millennia fanning the flames of conflict in almost all of the mortal world, and there was no divine being capable of standing up to him or his cohort.

The robed man heaved a sigh, dreading his brother's announcement as he clutched the necklaced vial over his chest.. He looked down at it in determination.

"If the situation demands it," he whispered to himself. "I will dethrone him, even if it will cost me my life."

His flight-path converged with the paths of dozens of other lesser divines, forcing him to interact with some of them.

"By the Spectres, it's you!"

He only heard the voice a moment before a hand clapped him on his back. The robed man stifled a groan and dealt him a crooked grin. Babel could do nothing but offer his greeting. "It has been a long time, hasn't it, Hashir?"

The pot-bellied God of Cooking beamed. "You too, Babel. How many centuries was it since you tried out my magnificent souffle?"

"Not long enough," he muttered.

"Excuse me?"

He gave him a smile. "Too long, my old friend."

"Speaking of cooking, has your domain attained more knowledge on the culinary arts for me to consume? Last time I was there, I only learned three-hundred new recipes. Too small a number, I'll say."

The robed man nodded regretfully. "I picked them out just for you. Four-hundred new recipes."

"What?! After only three hundred years?"

Babel simply cursed him in his mind. 'If you're so concerned, how about you innovate for once, you fat oaf?'

Suddenly, the idea of sacrificing his life did not sound too unappealing if he had to look forward to spending his immortality with him.

After settling into a comfortable quiet, Hashir's voice deepened as he looked to the far distance, most likely utilizing his true sight to pierce the veil of the Divine Realm, looking straight at the mortal dwellers. "Darker days still wait. Your brother, Nergal, has not ceased the unending torment on his charges. They hurtle towards a destruction of their own making."

Babel bit his lower lip. He was a failure. He was the one charged with protecting the mortal dwellers, not his brother. Yet, that bastard and his cohort made quick work of usurping the throne from the 'lowly' God of Libraries, after which he used this position to sow conflict and pain.

It was no wonder that, during the reign of the first king of man, Adam, the mortal world was henceforth referred to as 'Discordia'.

He clenched his vial harder. It was time that he finally stood up and did something. For too long had his complacency cost the lives of millions and millions every year, tallying at billions over the millennia. Thanks to that bastard's machinations, the mortal dwellers never increased their knowledge substantially, and so, his libraries did not manifest as many books as they should have.

Due to this, his spark, along with the sparks of all the divines whose power did not relate to war-craft, regressed. The warmongers prospered, and the rest were left in the dust.

"No more," he muttered to himself. "Today is the day."

He flew away from Hashir and veered towards the path of another divine being. She was a greater being in the pantheon, so her flight left a path of searing-white light behind. He spotted her at the forefront of this pillar. He increased his speed to the extent of his capabilities. She, in turn, decreased hers to allow him to catch up.

She was dressed in unadorned white robes, though her hair was black as the night sky. She was blindfolded with an equally dark strip of cloth, yet her vision did not suffer for it.

"What do you see, Madame Nirvana?"

"I see a war amongst the gods. You and your brother on opposite ends. It doesn't end well for you."

He only gulped. That answered that. Whatever his brother was going to announce, it would be bad enough that it would lead directly to them battling it out.

"This is good," he said. "Knowing that what he reveals will lead to blows, I can attack him when he least expects it."

Madame Nirvana's response, however, was merciless. Her emotions did not betray her as she spoke melodiously, with no rush, nor any slack.

"Without knowledge of what he is about to do, you will not muster the strength required to stop his schemes."

"Then how am I to succeed?" Babel's voice broke as he pleaded silently. This was his station, now. Five thousand years ago, he was at the top. His mother and father loved him and trusted him to lead the creation of the gods on a path of righteousness. Now, he was reduced to a point where he had to plead like a common mortal to a woman who was once under his family's employ.

"Success will not hinge on your continued existence as you are now," she said. Despite himself, his heart lightened at that. If he was not alive to see a brighter tomorrow, so be it. All he wanted was for it to exist in the first place. "You will know what to do when the time comes. To say more is to veer off the path to success."

Security and safety filled his heart. This was Madame Nirvana, the Ageless One. Amongst all the divine beings, she had lived through all the Kalpa, assisted every god dynasty since the beginning of time. She was an ineffable portion of the universe, but while that didn't make her invincible, she knew how to survive and carry on.

And if she said that they were on a path to success, then they were on a path to success. To consider it further was the height of idiocy.

The amphitheater made itself known in the distance. The scores of divine beings still alive to this day took their seats. Babel's was next to the Madame.

In roughly no time at all, the divines had finally settled, and into the stage appeared Nergal, always with the cocksure grin. His gray skin, painted with black war-paint, glowed malevolently as he strode forth, the flaming sword sheathed to his side swishing left and right with each step.

"Gods," he addressed everyone, arms spread. "It has been so long since we all assembled like this," his grin spread manically. "Though there are some missing faces. Where is the Goddess of Mediation? I don't see her anywhere."

A pulse of growls washed over the assembled Gods. Babel, too, clenched his fists and snarled. He knew well where she was: sequestered in her domain because her divine spark could not draw energy from the mortal world. Her concept was barely existent, anymore, and if she was to risk arriving at the meeting, even a well-intentioned hand-shake could destroy her.

'No more.' Babel stood up and glared at his younger brother.

He looked back at him flatly. "Care to share, brother?"

"…"

"What?" He grinned.

"Behave," he said, before gaining more bravado. "Little brother."

He simply shrugged. "I'll overlook that slight. Beating down a defeated brother brings me no pleasure. Onto more important things."

Another God manifested on the stage, Ocul, the God of Espionage, looking absolutely luminous from the millennia of strife that fed his concept. He brandished a crystal ball.

"For too long," Nergal began, "Mortals have run roughshod over my Mother and Father's creation. All they do is fight, fight and fight." he groaned theatrically, tilting his head in boredom. It has been simplicity itself to sow seeds of conflict due to this. Mortals are… a flawed creation. And when Mother and Father forced you all to draw strength from these mortals, what occurred?"

Babel was gritting his teeth. Nergal noticed, and his smirk deepened. "The 'good' gods fell on the way-side while us 'bad' gods became stronger and stronger. For every year, century and millennium."

Babel couldn't take it anymore. He stood up and yelled "You broke the core tenets! You personally orchestrated the Original Sins, forever locking humans and demons in conflict! You interfered illegally, and now we can't take action against you!"

"A flawed system," he smiled. "I wasn't the one who made it. I just… exploited it. And I won. And I will continue winning until the end of time."

"That's your goal?!" Babel shouted.

"If you'd finish letting me talk," he sighed. "While winning is a periphery objective of mine, it's not that important. No. What I seek to do is give us all a new start."

A cold current like lightning began to creep up Babel's spine. 'He isn't… that's not… is he saying what I think he's saying?'

"In a year, all mortals will die. Replacing them will be a different set of races, a perfected set of races who will never resort to committing to the tedium of war. And once that occurs, I will become Nergal, God of Beginnings and Ends."

He could not allow this. He looked to Madame Nirvana, who shook her head. Undeterred, he spoke up. "Mother and Father would be disappointed in your trifling ways, little brother. You will not get away with this."

Nergal hummed. "I grow weary of your blabbering. If you are so determined to teach me a lesson, come down and do so. Nobody is stopping you."

Babel's eyes went to Nirvana again. With a near-imperceptible shake of her head, his fighting spirit was once-more deterred.

Nergal, however, noticed. "Ahahahahah!" He almost doubled-over in laughter. "My brother… older brother at that… had to get confirmation from an oracle that he could not beat me! Fellow divines, what more evidence do you need of his impotence?!"

Babel centered his mind. He was just baiting him. He knew that. Unfortunately for his younger brother, he was always the smart one.

Sensing no incoming conflict, Nergal, undeterred by the happenings, continued. He gestured at the crystal ball that Ocul still held. Ten horrid shapes projected out of it.

Babel's breath caught in his throat.

"I call them Gigante. The bringers of the End."

As Nergal continued elaborating on them, Babel's apprehension only rose further.

Even one of them could destroy all mortals.

And he was planning on setting all ten of them on the mortal realm at once. He looked desperately towards the Oracle. She shook her head again.

Unable to take action, Babel did the only other sensible thing and fled…

...only to be intercepted in a flash of light by the Goddess of Smithing, Ferra. Her crossed arms and flat gaze gave her the aura of an immovable wall, and to him, she might as well have been.

"Out of my way," he demanded.

"Your brother is calling you."

Babel tried to weave to the side, but she was quicker. Her hand was already almost upon his wrist, and would have locked around it had Madame Nirvana not intervened, shoving the belligerent goddess away with an open palm before spiriting both herself and Babel away.

They were in a library. His library.

"You took us to my domain?!" He shouted. "We would be much safer in yours, or literally anywhere else!"

"You stand the best chance where you are," she reassured. The response mollified him. She always knew the best path, even if it was riddled with thorns. "Now, come up with a solution. Nergal will set his Gigante on the mortals. With your strength, you may not have the capability to fight both your brother and the Gigante."

"Who will help me, then?!" Babel shouted. "The mortals?! Father set a seal on them so they won't ever be able to reach our heights. They cannot help! It has to be me. What is the best path to fight my b-"

"Is this who they call Babel the Wise?" She smirked. "With your unending knowledge on all things within the confines of your domain, you still cannot come up with a way? If you're curious about your inevitable bout with your brother once he arrives, just know that he will win. No matter what you do, he will always win. If you manage to get the upper hand, then his friends will win for him. And no, no one will heed your call. Not even me. I don't fight losing battles. Nobody does. You are alone."

With every word out of her mouth, Babel's confidence shriveled further and further. He couldn't win.

Not… that way, however.

"If you cannot attack from the front, attack from the side."

The words of his Father rang through his mind. 'Attack from the side,' he thought curiously. 'He's right.'

'If I can't beat him at his own game… I will just make another one.'

His divine spark pulsed. Every single book on every single bookshelf of the enormous library flew out and encompassed him in a storm of binders and paper. Parchment scrolls, too. Every single written article in existence was at his disposal.

There was a reason why Babel was always destined to be the rightful Chief God of the pantheon.

If he couldn't win now, he'd win later.

And later was now.

It was true that the mortal dwellers would never muster the strength required to destroy all the Gigante. If they were smart about it, they could maybe survive one or two attacks, and perhaps even destroy one, but the other nine would lie in wait and strike anyways, unheeding of their exhaustion.

They needed heroes that could match up to them.

They needed heroes that were unlimited in nature. They, however, did not exist in the mortal realm.

They existed… elsewhere.

And it was from that 'elsewhere' that they would find salvation. Babel's eyes shone with the light of boundless knowledge and gave the oracle specific instructions.

Once done, he gave her another command. "Broadcast this to every soothsayer, prophet, forecaster, and scryer. Once they know, the mortal world will be ready. They will unravel the Forbidden Incantation, piece it together through collaboration and pierce the very walls of our universe. And when they do, we'll have already won."

The Oracle smiled. "It has been done. You, my boy, are not long for this world, though."

"That is just something I'll have to accept."

He pulled out his necklace and removed the cork on the vial: a condensation of both his parents' divine sparks. When Nergal drank his, it allowed him the upper hand needed to usurp him.

Now that they were in his domain, it would perhaps take him to heights of strengths that would just barely allow him to match up against his hateful little brother. It would be a temporary boost, a power source that would not regenerate itself, but the situation demanded it

Through the library gates, they arrived. Nergal, Ocul, Ferra, and a host of other gods, all of which benefited from the unceasing discord. Ten divines in total. He didn't have to look behind him to know that Madame Nirvana was no longer with him. It was no matter. He had seen his path and was secure in it.

"What… have you done?" Nergal snarled.

"Something I should have done a long time ago," he downed the entire vial into his mouth and drank his fill.

Strength returned to him, more strength than he had ever experienced since his brother usurped him.

He could feel it. In all aspects, he became stronger. Strong enough to perhaps match Nergal.

Mentally, too, he attained more strength. His knowledge only swelled further, and as of that moment, he knew more than the sum-total of all knowledge in the mortal realm as well as knowledge of the divine realm.

Like Nirvana, he saw a path to success. A path to his own survival.

Nergal unsheathed his blade and dashed towards his older brother, who still hadn't moved. The sword thrust through his chest.

"Farewell, brother."

'Got him right where I wanted him,' with an open palm, Babel pushed it through his torso, at the center of it where his divine spark pulsed. With every erg of his divine energy, Babel set to completely destroy it.

At the last moment, before Nergal's death was set in stone, Ocul pulled him back. The flaming sword, however, was still lodged through Babel's heart.

Golden ichor dribbled down his chin as he spoke. "The Flaming Sword can push gods into true death. Conversely, if I am no longer a god, I will not be harmed. Clever, right, brother?"

Nergal's condition was too terrible to even speak as he laid flat on the ground, the God of Medicine treating him to the best of his abilities.

"It will take a long while before you recover, little brother," Babel smirked. "It will be a while before you can implement your project, as well. It has bought time for the mortals."

He pulled the flaming sword from out of his heart and dropped it next to him.

"I'm not dead, however," Babel said before breaking into a giggling fit. "I won't die like that."

Behind him, he pierced space and opened a rift to the mortal realm. "Take care of my library."

"Get him!"

He was through the rift before any of the gods could have made a move.

And now…









… he was falling. Cloud layer after cloud layer, he dove down like a falling star, the last of his divine spark disappearing as his body adopted mortality.

His eyes were closed as he enjoyed the freedom of knowing that his brother's downfall had only just begun.

And while Babel was a god no more, he knew, even without the certainty of future sight, that he would reclaim his position one day.

In his clenched left hand, he still felt the presence of that empty vial of energy. He would keep it with him, he decided. It would remind him of his mission.

---

If you had told the young King Hammurabi, King of Valor, a month ago that he would enjoy a cup of tea with the king of the Hell Realm on a balcony as they enjoyed the sunset, he would have ordered his personal physicians to examine your head.

Yet, there he was. Adorned in his royal habit, voluminous velvet robes and jewelry enough to have his back ache, the only thing that stood between himself and King Lucifer was a tea table covered with two cups and a teapot.

"It is different here," the demonic king observed.

"Too cold?" King Hammurabi ventured.

The demonic king gave him an unimpressed stare. "Too hot, actually. In Cocytus, you are liable to freeze to death within moments of stepping outdoors." He paused for a moment. "The last time I saw the sun was one hundred years ago, when I was a young lad and my father was yet to bequeath me his throne."

King Hammurabi smiled, now. "No one will stop you from moving your capital somewhere more hospitable. The war is over. We can now prosper."

"Prosper, we shall," continued the demonic king. "Only if we survive what is to come."

The old king did not want to be presumptuous, but in his heart, he attributed the demonic king's defeatist attitude towards the fact that in the war, for the last six hundred years after they lost their edge, they were the ones pushed so close towards the brink of extinction.

Defeat was an old reality for them. King Hammurabi could not even begin to describe the emotional emanations that the demon king exuded, the feeling of an overwhelming sense of loss compounded by his awesome longevity giving it an even deeper feeling, a bottomless pit.

King Hammurabi hummed as he took another sip of his tea. "We will survive. When we all work together, all things shall-"

"Your Majesty," someone said from behind him. "The Islander dignitaries have arrived-"

The King grimaced. "I did not ask to be disturbed."

"No," King Lucifer said, "Go on ahead. Your attention is needed elsewhere as the chairman of the Grand Alliance. Don't attempt to coddle me."

The king chuckled to himself. "I was only being courteous."

Both him and his counterpart then stood up. The demon king was nothing like how their propaganda machine depicted him. Immensely tall, three heads above King Hammurabi, he struck a terrifying image while decked in his black and red armour. Armed and protected at all times, he was truly the representation of the dire straits that humanity had put his species in.

Yet, he stood tall with his head raised high. King Lucifer the Prideful. From his castle, he commanded the legions of his kind, supplying his own arcanum, fighting tooth and nail to ensure the survival of his people. Now, he would devote himself just the same to battling side by side with all beings in the world if it meant their continued survival.

If you had told King Hammurabi a month ago that he would be the king to have ended the war with his kingdom's sworn archenemy, he would feel just as doubtful as he would feel hopeful.

He bowed his head towards the person he dare-say was his friend and turned to the aide that had summoned him, a blank-faced man with a tuft of facial hair on his chin.

Silently, he was led across the hallways of the recently-constructed Alliance Vega, a palace unto itself. Despite the age of the building, it was nonetheless decorated to the farthest extent of what one thousand master artisans working together could accomplish, with gratuitous amounts of arcane arts used to ameliorate the building process.

The king hummed thoughtfully at the prospect of his meeting. "How long have they waited?"

"A few minutes, Your Majesty. We had them rushed to the art room the moment they arrived."

"Dignitaries," the king muttered. "And not their leaders."

The aide said nothing. The king continued on.

"One would think that a day as important as this would be enough to summon those venerable presences. The Heroes' Summons wait for no one."

Not a moment too soon, they arrived at the door to the art room. The aide opened the door, and inside he walked.

The diplomats there were not dressed for diplomacy. Three men were inside, as well as one woman, all of which carried varying degrees of armour, though none of them were unarmed.

Once the king scanned all their faces, however, he mentally berated the uninformed aide.

These were not dignitaries. They were one of the most powerful warriors of their nations.

That only meant one thing: they were the leaders. Because he was closest to him, he greeted the olive-skinned man with the dark slits and flappy skin on his neck first. "King Kamehameha the forty-second. I am glad that you could come." He showed the man his fist and stuck out his pinkie and thumb. The Islander King did not respond but for a flat stare. King Hammurabi continued, nonetheless.

Closer to him was the Mchanga Queen. Her skin was an absolute shade of black, an abyss that did not reflect a single ray of light, though he did not ogle. Instead, he made a show of appreciating the long, white braids that adorned parts of her body, wrapped around her wrists and ankles and providing a belt for her waist.

He hit his chest and gave a nod. "Mother Zulu. May your braids grow ever-longer."

Her pearly white teeth showed, and it was apparent that she was grinning. "And may your beard, too." The leaders were all amused.

He took the joke in stride, chuckling along with the room as he self-consciously picked on the feeble growth on his chin. "I am glad to see you here."

The remaining two men were both quite tall. One had pale, golden hair tied to a pony-tail behind him, piercing blue eyes and a bow on his back and. The other was completely bald, wearing a breastplate over his yukata and a sword strapped to his right-hand side.

"Chief Chieftain Pedersson," he gave the man his hand. He shook it with an iron grip. "Excellent to see you here."

"What? No attempt to ape my own culture?"

Now, they were laughing. I moved on in a hurry to bow my head to the bald man. "Excellent to see you, Shogun Takezo." To the rest of the group, he said "I trust that you all arrived here with no complications on the way."

"Hah," the Chief Chieftain barked his laughter harshly. "One does not simply cross the northern seas with 'no complications'. I lost nine men on my way." His scowl of frustration eased as he continued. "Could have been worse, but I was lucky enough to come across the Shogun on the way. The sea monsters stood no chance with both of us on the prow."

The Shogun tacked on his own experience. "I agree. Luck united us, an alliance forged in blood."

King Hammurabi was happy. "That is good to hear. And you, King Kamehameha and Mother Zulu?"

The Mother replied. "My arrival was expeditious. I rowed here, myself."

"I swam here, myself," the tanned king boasted right back. "And I've got to say, you land-dwellers do not have a good taste in food."

King Hammurabi stammered as he spoke. "There's plenty of freshly-harvested sea-food at your beck and call. Simply say the w-"

"Spare me," he said. "I did not come here to eat, though I must say, distracting us with your sizable collection of art did occupy my mind with one question: how can one man be so vain?"

An insult. King Hammurabi did not feel insulted, but it didn't matter what he felt. The Yamato Islanders did not take insults sitting, but responding poorly would perhaps make the Chieftain view him as thin-skinned, an unpleasant appellation in his own culture.

Any response at all that didn't involve the challenge of a formal duel would have the Mother's opinion on him reduced.

No victory on any angle. Decision made, he said nothing. Instead, he released a trace of his warrior soul's magnitude. He sealed the magnitude a moment later. The aquatic king narrowed his eyes at him. "You are no paper shark, I gather. Very well. Please escort us to the summoning ring, King Hammurabi."

The king complied. While the Island leaders walked behind him, despite the prior show of aggression, he tried to strike up another conversation. "You all seem awfully well-armed for a diplomatic journey."

The Mother behind him scoffed. "We are in foreign soil, on the territory of the single greatest military force in Discordia, known for being capable of conquering any nation they set their sights on in mere days, with a clear exception to the Hell Realm invaders. Forgive us for suspecting you."

"The age of strife has come to an end," the king insisted. "Our war with the Hell Realm has ceased and will not continue ever again."

"And yet the taint of pointless war on your soil will not wash off so easily. The only reason I am here is because our witches saw the very same vision that yours did. My trust, however, will have to be earned."

"That is fair," the king concluded. The hallway finally ended to reveal a great chamber lit by thousands of candle-lights, a domed ceiling with sculptures of every leader present sitting on the two-hundred perches. He found his own perched right next to King Lucifer's, at his own request.

The chamber, itself, was circular, with a ring-shaped table surrounding the center floor where an ornate series of geometrical crests lay, a summoning circle complex enough to tear through the walls of the universe. It took the greatest arcanists in the world nineteen days and nights to complete the circle, and tonight would be the night that it all began.

Tearing his gaze away from that geometrical wonder, he looked around at the room's occupants.

The Trading Nation of Xing's emperor was in the middle of a friendly debate with the Three Crowned Kings. The countries neighboring valor were also in deep interaction with each other, all about the opportunities that this period of peace has opened up. They say that war is profitable, but you could only take war-profiteering a certain distance before you made no more forward progress in the dozens of starved sectors of society.

And those sectors were now finally seeing the attention that they craved. Cultural exchanges, artistic innovation, strides in engineering and so much more in only just a month of peace.

It was all quite literally unprecedented.

The Island leaders behind him had long-since dispersed to talk with other world leaders, leaving the host king alone, simply taking it all in.

"It is impressive," King Lucifer said from behind him. The King turned and nodded.

"I never thought I would be alive to see this."

"I never thought I would even want to see this," the demon king countered. "But I do. And I like what I see."

King Hammurabi simply nodded. Then, he felt the magnitude of arcane practitioners washing into the room. He looked back to see an armada of men and women of all races and sizes file in, the aura of arcanum clinging to them.

The world leaders in the room all quieted down as the practitioner filed through the narrow gap of the ring-shaped table, into the circle itself. They were thirty, all in all, the best the world's many governments had to offer.

Quickly enough, the leaders settled towards their assigned seats. King Hammurabi found his next to King Lucifer.

Once all the leaders were in their place, and all the practitioners in position, the ritual began.

The candle lights extinguished simultaneously, one and all, plunging the room in darkness. A moment later, blue motes of light emanated from the walls and illuminated the room once more in a blue wash.

"This has never before been attempted," King Hammurabi whispered to his desk-mate, only for the demon to hold his index finger to his lips.

The King, dissatisfied by his response, turned his sight towards the ritual in progress, hearing a series of nonsense syllables that slipped his mind the moment they entered it. While he could not retain them, he could remember the ecstasy that his mind was subjected to upon hearing their ineffable logic and rhyme. The 'Forbidden Incantation', it was called. Forbidden, because its power could depose the gods, so they had sealed it long ago.

And now, they were going to use this incantation to set the world right.

Power thrummed through the very air they were breathing. The less powerful world leaders from the lesser nations were sweating bullets, trying to weather the onslaught the best that they could.

The king looked to his side, where King Lucifer sat, his face as prideful as ever. Possibly the most powerful presence in the room, King Hammurabi knew that if the ritual ramped up far enough, the demon king would be the last being still conscious.

But his fears did not come to pass. The ritual's arcane magnitude reached a plateau as the center of the circle… simply fractured. Reality peeled away to reveal a white orb enclosing a jet-black core.

It then shifted, replaced by ten images. Teenagers. Young enough to not have lost their potential for growth and old enough to understand the ways of the world.

These were their heroes. Though they didn't know it yet, they were destined for greatness.

The ritualists backed away from the circle. The ritual had set its course, the children were being ported and they would need all the space they could get.

The pressure of displaced air struck the King like a physical force. Leveraging his own strength, he held himself to the round table as hard as he could while lesser leaders were blown back. He saw, from the expressions of those still sitting, smirks or prideful countenances, the demon king included. Even now, in these trying times, posturing was to be expected. A mortal nature, if anything else.

The light died down.

The heroes had arrived.

 

[TheEpicLotfi]

All over the world, the same thing happened.

Ten doors.

Ten people.

---

2 A.M, 25th of April, 2019

England

"Lighten up, Benji," slurred the inebriated girl as she sat next to him on the hill overlooking the park. "I haven't seen you take one sip of anything. What are you, a church boy?"

Benjamin watched the party downhill come to a near close as people began huddling up to each other, drunk and high out of their minds like only high schoolers could be. The girl offered him a lit joint which he looked at in disdain.

"Sorry, love, but my idea of fun isn't losing braincells," he spoke honestly, aiming for a tone of dismissal. Instead, all he got was a series of giggles from her.

"Suit yerself, Bennyboy," she chuckled, taking a deep drag that shaved off an entire centimeter. "Hoh my god. What am I even doing, you know?"

"I don't," he replied.

She turned to face him head on, leaning her head in. "I like you."

He turned to her, too, eyes narrowed.

"It's true," she said. "Your cute haircut, your glasses, your grades. You're so... hot."

"And you're intoxicated," he said. He would have continued on that vein by saying 'and I'm not interested', but felt that it could maybe not end well for her. Jared had made it clear to him that this place was 'good vibes only', and since half of them had already taken ecstasy, that went doubly so.

"No," she replied, before thinking for a moment. "Well, yes, of course I am, but... I mean, I liked you before I got high, and I still like you. I thought I could tell you before I took all that stuff, but... I guess I didn't have the strength."

Benjamin's eyes narrowed further as he considered her words.

Then came the most important question. "I'm sorry, but... what was your name?"

"I'm," she burped before continuing. "Margaret."

He sighed. It was going to be one of those things, wasn't it? "Right. Margaret." He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pushed one out and took it in his mouth straight from the box.

"Cigarettes give you cancer," was Margaret's oh-so-helpful response to his actions.

"And underage marijuana-use hampers brain development. Think on that," he said flatly as he lit the tip. He inhaled slowly, pooling the fumes into his mouth as he tasted it and finally inhaled it. Truth be told, he knew cigarettes were harmful, too, but it's not like he had much of a shortage of brainpower. It was people like Margaret that needed all the IQ points they could get.

He turned to her. "Margaret. You don't have a boyfriend?" That was surprising. She looked right fine, after all, probably a part of the more prominent cliques in school. Benjamin wouldn't have known about any of that since he couldn't have cared less. He only came at the insistence of the only person he could even loosely refer to as a 'friend', giving him a front-seat to how the popular kids spent their free-time.

That 'friend' was only a 'friend' because he was the son of his father's business partner. They had known each other since they were kids, so try as he might, Benjamin could never get rid of Jared.

Still, Benjamin couldn't help but hold a seed of respect for the guy. He juggled excellently the pressure imposed by his father to one day take over the business by being a social butterfly like no other, and being the star of the school's cricket team. Practically everyone knew him, and to an extent, Benjamin as the insanely smart childhood friend of his.

What an inane appellation. 'Friend'. He hadn't ever met a single person in his life that could mentally stimulate him the way he wanted. Sex was boring once you got a taste of it, and it did not make a good incentive for a lasting relationship. He could try and blend in with the more erudite cliques, but they were territorial, rigid and easily overcome. They weren't a competition to his superior intellect, and knowing that, they believed that the best course of action was to exclude him.

Oh, if only he actually wanted to be included.

And now, she was starting to kiss his neck. He pushed her away and stood up. "I'm sorry about how this turned out for you, but I'm just not interested. If you could just be a dear and fall asleep, that'd be great."

"But I... I love-" While slurring her words, she gently laid her back against the grass and started to snor. That was mighty convenient. Discounting the idiots by the gazebos that elected to snort up coke, and were playing tag at the playground, he was the last person awake.

Symbolic, he felt. In an ocean of people, he was completely alone. Despite himself, it felt unpleasant.

Pointless, actually. Empty. Without substance. In another year, he'd be in university somewhere, earning a degree, only to come back and take over his father's law firm and continue the legacy of Hooverfield and Sons. When he grew old enough, he would retire, of course, and impart upon his son the same gift that his father imparted upon him, and his father before him.

He could do it, of course. He could continue the inane cycle that his great-great-grandfather had cursed his family to repeat. He was far from stupid or lazy.

Now, though, as he really considered what was waiting for him, he couldn't do it. It physically pained him to imagine himself treading in the same footsteps as every Hooverfield man before him, doing absolutely nothing with his life that could have any real meaning, nothing new or stimulating.

Once upon a time, he liked the law for the puzzle that it was, but after being mentored by his father, he knew that it wasn't a game he wanted to excel at. Treaded ground. Beaten path.

Boring.

Then what would have meaning? Take over the world? Stupid. What would he want with the world, anyway? He'd sooner turn it into a fireball than own it.

Hah. That idea didn't sound so bad, actually. A nuclear physicist, or an engineer working on nuclear power. It was possible for him, too. He took all of his subjects as A-levels, and those included maths and physics among a smattering of other subjects.

He looked up at the shining full moon. That very moon was being illuminated by a ball of burning hydrogen, a nigh-eternal nuclear explosion. If he could replicate something similar, whether to be weaponized or for the good of mankind, he would.

It wasn't that he hated the world, far from. He had long since given up on the notion that he could even hate. Apathy was the best he could display. He just wanted something that touched his sensibilities perfectly, something pure, big and meaningful.

And that's when he ran into a door as he walked. It stood there, inconspicuous as could be. It told him that it had something similar, something pure and meaningful.

He finished his cigarette and flicked it right into a nearby bin just before his gaze turned back at the door.

Right, the door.

The door that had all the things he needed. By sheer virtue of its strangeness alone, he would have opened it and entered, but the promise alone was enough to have him simply enter it without a second thought. Was it stupid? He didn't care.

It was interesting. Not boring.

---

4 A.M, 25th of April, 2019

Yemen

The desert was cold at night, so Saeed did his best to wear as many layers as he could. It was just him huddled in a bunch with other vagrants, all seeking to escape from the ongoing violence out west. He looked at the smaller mounds buried in mountains of fabric. He hardly knew their names. He was sure that they had told him, once before, but he did his best to forget them. It wouldn't do for him to attach himself to those he was sure would die.

After all, food was scarce, and they were traveling with a group who would rather see to it that their own bellies were fed than to feed the youngest. The bigger mounds, adults and older teenagers, they were the cowards. They escaped from the violence but did not have the humility of a true refugee. They were greedy, demanding the world, throwing tantrums, forming groups meant to coerce the weaker members of the group with sheer numbers.

There were four right there. Rasheed, Mustafa, Mohd, and Ridhwaan. They made sure that the younger members would continue to go hungry while they fed their large bellies. They made sure to claim the most fabrics when crossing abandoned towns.

They were also armed.

So was Saeed, of course. Beneath the voluminous cloak of his, he carried a rifle with a wooden stock. He didn't know its name, but he wagered it was an AK-47, his friend's favorite weapon in a video game they used to play in another lifetime before the country went to shit.

The best way to ensure that this group survived was to kill Rasheed, Mustafa, Mohd, and Ridhwaan. He knew he could do it, too. They slept close to each other, under the same blanket, their bodies pressed closely to share as much heat as possible. Just aiming at their general direction and shooting would end their miserable existences.

No. Those were dark thoughts whispered to him by Shaytaan.

The thought gave him a chuckle, though his dry tongue could not express his mirth. What was Shaytaan? What was Allah, or even his Prophet? Where were they, now? He expected his mind to reflexively rebel from the blatant blasphemy, but instead, only despair and hopelessness crept up.

And that hopelessness said 'nowhere'. Maybe if he had been more faithful in his past, he could still cling to those embers that assured him that it would all end well.

Instead, he had to watch as his entire family was killed, one after another, as the war claimed its toll, not on those dog-like commanders and generals of the government, or the rebel forces, but the common people.

The thought of killing the cowards rang through his mind once again, but instead of self-reproach, he was met with weariness. He couldn't stand to see another death occur before him. He was the edge of his tolerance.

Sleep eluded him, therefore. With a sigh, he got out of the sheets and turned to the ruins of a hamlet that was no-doubt once populated by a smattering of people, perhaps thirty or forty in number. Now, like most of the country-side, it was just scorched land.

It was built on a ledge leading to a slope that led to a couple more houses at the bottom near the oasis. Fishers, most likely, though he wondered for how long, since the oasis had dried up to a knee-length height when his company had arrived.

In the darkness, he failed to see the loose rock which he stepped on near the ledge. It dislodged itself and he lost is footing, accidentally tripping over the ledge and down the sandy slope.

He took a moment to collect himself before ascertaining that he was uninjured, though the fall did hurt. He expected anger at his blunder, but instead received nothing. Finding that quite funny, he tried to laugh. All that came out was a choked wheeze and a couple of coughs at his dry throat.

He stood up again, facing the house near the oasis. Two doors stood before him. One to the house, and another leading somewhere else.

He took a step towards the alternate door before his mind caught up to him and he stopped.

Where did the door lead to? Why was the door there? Those were the questions he should have asked himself. Instead, as though a Djinn had possessed him, he took to the alternate door.

'Why?' he asked himself.

And he received his answer. 'It will take you away.'

The great Allah had answered. He was to be delivered.

He took another step before stopping himself. 'But what about the others?'

'They are unworthy' came the reply. 'Only you are worthy.'

Guilt gnawed at his heart as he found that that wasn't quite a dealbreaker. After all, he made a conscious choice not to memorize the names of those children he had traveled with. The older kids, too. He only knew the names of those bastardous cowards.

That was good. He could let go of his earthly ties and transcend with ease.

He took another step forward and put his hand on the doorknob. He turned it, opened it and stepped into the dark antechamber.

---

3 A.M, 25th of April, 2019

Germany

I groaned as I looked at the screen. Only three new comments on my new chapter of Ouhime-Sama no Great Isekai. Worse yet, two of them were hate.

"Fix your grammar, idiot. I can barely read this shit," I recited from the comment, to which the responding comment agreed and said "Her profile says she's German. Careful or she'll shove you in a gas-" I had to stop myself before finishing. "Oh my god," I whispered, "What a horrible thing to say."

I hit my forehead against the desk in frustration. "These Majestic Path Myths people can be so mean, sometimes! Okay... this is the third story you've started, now. You promised yourself you wouldn't have it deleted if it got hate, so pull through and write the other chapter!"

Even as I spoke those words, my mouse clicked towards the support ticket tab. I finished writing the ticket to have the fic deleted when my mouse hovered over the submit button.

Instead of clicking it, I deleted the tab. "I'm not going to give up on my baby that easily!"

My stomach rumbled. "Relax, I'll get you something to eat," I patted my tummy, "Right after I check the comments on the other websites."

And I did. FictionStamp had more positive reviews, and so did Archive of My Own and my PhrasePress blog. I mean, okay, sure, I had bad English grammar, but blame that on the education system, not me! I did my best to read English as much as possible, so forgive me for sounding a bit wonky.

I read through the chapter and found probably three dozen grammar mistakes, and twice that many typos. Not too glaring since the chapter itself was six-thousand words, but definitely not up to my usual standards.

Mostly, that had to do with the fact that I was genuinely excited for this chapter. The Princess was finally about to meet the demon kingdom's prince disguised as an adventurer in a tavern, and that was going to be the prelude to a whole host of developments. It was the story's lynchpin for crying out loud! I had to share my baby with as many people as possible to celebrate the fact that I was one chapter closer to writing that steamy lemo-

Okay, stop it, brain. Stop it. No lemons. You aren't worthy. At least not yet.

Come on, me. What was the promise? "I'll only write a lemon scene after I win the Short Story Competition in school, I established that already." I turned my head towards the poster on the wall, the poster where the trophy for the Short Story awards was imaged, along with the title beneath that said, in English, 'eshketit'.

Because, let's be honest, I was going to get it.

I was ranked first in school, and then regionals as well, and since the school hosted the national competition, I was sure to get number one there, too.

I had already scouted my competition. They were second-rate at best. Their prose was machine-like, evidence of too much coaching. They were the kids of established authors desparate to reach the heights that their parents crested by any means possible, even if it hampered their own ability to adapt, innovate and construct their own style. They were 'Adepts' at best. It wasn't an insult, since I wasn't one to put people down. It was just a plain observation. I tried to see if I had anything to learn from them, but it felt like doing those 'Masterclasses' I begged my mom to give me money enough to watch. All formula, no substance, and the ultimate lesson that they all professed: make your own style.

That was the worst ten hours I had ever spent on absolutely anything. It taught me nothing I already knew, and all it did was fill me with doubts at every corner. All these established authors telling me that I was doing something wrong wasn't quite healthy, especially considering the nature of writing, being all subjective and all that.

Ah, there I went again, my head rushing with dumb stuff that only served to waste my time. And my stomach rumbled again, and this time, with it came a wave of weakness slackening my muscles. I hadn't eaten since breakfast and right now it was...

Three A.M in the morning.

Stupid me. If I don't eat, I'll never fill out properly. "Blah, who cares. I'm seventeen, puberty's over, just live with it."

Truth be told, I was really skinny, and I didn't ever think I could fill out like most girls my age already had. I was a solid A-cup and had no hopes for further growth. To make matters worse, I was rather tall for even a white girl, standing at one-eighty centimeters.

You could imagine my luck in the dating scene.

I arrived at the fridge, drowning out those bad thoughts with better ones, like what I'll eat for lunchinnerfast. I snagged a couple of eggs and some butter, some frozen bacon from the freezer, three strips and laid them on the skillet.

Thinking 'eh, what the hell', I bust out a couple of sausages, too. I slammed the butter into the skillet and turned up the heat. There was just barely space left for the sausages. While that cooked, I made a four-egged sunny-side-up monstrosity, cooking that, too, in butter, sprinkling some oregano because 'fuck you', that's why, and covered it with a lid when it really started getting there.

I retrieved a plate, peeled out the eggs with a spatula, just barely managing to scrape it from the bottom without scrambling it all. I turned my attention once more to the meat-stuff, that was just getting to be just the right state of carbonization. I tossed the strips of bacon and sausages on top of the eggs, sprinkled more oregano, some pepper pepper pepper, salt and finally a healthy dose of ketchup.

Once I beheld my creation, my stomach made a flip. "Oh no, tummy, you asked for this."

Don't do this, me. "You can't force me."

Please don't do this.

I made a show of considering it before shaking my head and diving towards the food on the counter.

Five minutes later, it was all gone. I ate them all.

They were eaten. Every single item on the plate. And not just the eggs, but the bacon and the sausages, too. They were food, and I ate them like food. I loved them!

Yeah, I might have been a bit sleep-deprived. Tummy sated, I decided to go catch some much-needed Zs, going back to my room without cleaning the shitstorm I caused in the kitchen. Let tomorrow's problems be for tomorrow's memes, I mean 'me'.

Yup. I needed sleep. Desperately.

I opened the door to my bedroom and see a door smack dab in the middle of the room.

'Let's go away.' Came the voice in my head.

I shrugged. When the isekai portal knocked, you answered. I turned my back to it and shouted. "Farewell, my family! I am being summoned to save the world!"

I turned back to the conspicuous door in the middle of the room and rushed towards it. I opened the door and went into the dark ante-chamber.

And suddenly, the lights were on.

People surrounded me. Nine in total. We were within a circle on the floor, and a wider circle of all kinds of people surrounding us.

Unreal people, people with beast-like characteristics, and beasts with human-like characteristics like standing on two legs. A nine-foot-tall horned, armored man was among them, too, and my mind instantly hopped to 'demon'.

Then I heard steps walking up to us. He was a man dressed in kingly clothes, jewelry of gold and gemstones adorning every part of his body, though he bore no crown. Instead, on his head, was a platinum circlet.

"The king," I muttered under my breath.

"Alright, times up," then I heard the cocking of a gun. Completely awe-struck, I looked as one of the other nine pulled out a gun and pointed it at the king. "Explain to me, in no uncertain terms, exactly where the hell I am."

The boy spoke with a thick Bavarian accent, with all the weird twangs that came with. If I was blind, I would have imagined him wearing overalls and a straw-hat. Instead, he wore a pair of boots, blue jeans and a red plaid shirt. All he was missing was the straw-hat.

The king, for his part, seemed amused, even as the rest of us staggered behind, shying away from the crazy gunman.

This was a fun dream. An isekai with a little twist where one of the heroes just straight-up kills the summoning King. Never seen that one before. Once I woke up, I was sure as hell going to write something like this.

"Is that metallic finger supposed to threaten me?" He asked.

"It's a gun!" One of us shouted, a brown-haired girl who looked absolutely terrified.

One boy wearing a preppy uniform continued. "It's a firearm. It will kill you." He spoke in a Berliner accent.

"I ain't got all day, King James. Where the fuck am I and why ain't there no guns here?"

Where in the fuck did this guy get a gun in Bavaria, anyway?

No. Dumb questions. What's important is that he could get himself killed. "Hey, listen, hillbilly."

The country-boy didn't turn away his gaze. "Speak."

"This is the king. He summoned us to, uh, I don't fucking know, fight the demon lord?"

Our surroundings burst into chatter at my announcement.

"She's got quite the imagination," the nine-foot-tall demon guy said.

Oh shit. Right.

"Wait, I mean, uh," I tried to find the right words. "There's a great evil on the horizon, so they had to summon us to fight them. That's the idea, I think."

"I ain't got time for no fairy tales, hun," the Bavarian shouted. "One minute, I was just takin' a stroll down my street, and I saw this weird door. I went in, and now I'm here, with you telling me that I somehow signed up to kill a demon or some shit."

"Either way," I replied, "You can't just point a gun at him! He doesn't even know what it is and you'll only get yourself killed! These guys probably know magic! How do you think you got here?!"

"I ain't convinced."

"Will this convince you?" One of us, the one wearing a cloak said as the barrel of a rifle shoved towards the small of his back gently.

The Bavarian's head tilted upwards. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Make another move and you'll find out."

"He's got an AK!" the same girl exclaimed. "What the fuck, oh my god, where am I?!"

While she was freaking out, the Bavarian holstered his weapon, and the rifleman retracted it into his cloak again. "Let's be gentle," the cloaked guy said. "Nobody should die, now."

The girl was having a full-blown panic attack, now, and was currently being comforted by a rather androgynous person hugging her tightly. The others were content to simply observe and wait for the explanation instead of, quite literally, jumping the gun.

And I retract my earlier statement. Where the fuck did that guy get an AK-47 in Germany?

The King, meanwhile, gestured at one of the people surrounding us, wearing a stereotypical mysterious wizard cosplay. She gestured with her staff swiftly before sending a pink ball hurting towards the hyperventilating brunette. Near instantly, she calmed down. "I'm okay," she muttered.

This was… getting a bit too real for my tastes.

"Now that you're all quite finished," the king said. "I will explain to you the reason for your summon. In the near future, ten apocalyptic beings will rise. Without your help, it will spell the doom for our entire world. You are, quite frankly, our only hope for survival. You ten can become heroes like no other."

One of us, a black kid with a dirty t-shirt and shorts, gave a skeptic tilt of his head. "Is this some type of scam? And who the fuck taught you that flawless Swahili?"

I scoffed. "What is that even supposed to mean?"

He looked at me knowingly. "Uh, it means that I've been watching white people speak my language for almost five minutes, better than I've heard most people do. That's what it means."

"W-what?" I asked dumbly. "You-you're speaking German. You've got to be from Rhine," I pointed at him. "And you," I pointed at the Bavarian. "Bavaria!" I pointed at the guy with the uniform and glasses. "Berlin!" Then at the cloaked guy. "I... don't know, but you don't sound right, either."

"Uh," the black guy sighed. "What? First off, you sound like you're from the coast Mombasa, most likely. Those two idiots with the guns sound like they live upcountry, around Isiolo if I'd have to guess. And we are still speaking Swahili."

"You're all mistaken," one of us spoke up. He was wearing pajamas, but looked exceedingly handsome, nonetheless. "You're all speaking Italian."

"Jesus Christ," I muttered.

"Quiet!" One of the girls shouted. She looked Asian and unfairly beautiful. "I am damn sure that none of you idiots should be capable of speaking Korean, so that brings us only to one conclusion."

The uniformed guy finished. "We're being translated."

One and all, our attention turned to the king.

"What are you children even talking about?" Was his only reply.

"Languages!" I screamed.

He looked at me with a lost expression. "What is that word?"

Right before I exploded again, the uniformed guy spoke up. "In our world, not everyone speaks the same way. Different countries have different ways of speaking that should be incomprehensible to each other unless you take the time to learn that other way of speaking, or what we call a 'language'."

"Yeah," the Kenyan guy said. "A language."

"You both said two entirely different things," the king responded. "He said language, and the other one said language as well. Wait... did I just-"

"King Hammurabi," the tall, demonic man said from behind him. "I believe our heroes should rest for now. They clearly aren't adapting to the situation, well. Perhaps a night's sleep would serve them well."

Oh well. The dream was great while it lasted.

I took a knee before the king and said "I pledge my heroship to defend your world from catastrophe, King Hammurabi."

"Up, my lady," he said. "Once this is all said and done, it will be our role to bow to you. Now, why don't you follow me? I will lead you to your quarters."

I turned back to look at the others who had come with me, already chatting amongst each other. I could either walk alongside the crowd and maybe try and make a friend (yeah, like that could ever happen), or I could spend my time wisely by grilling the good king for information.

I wish I had a coin right about now.

---
Who will you walk with?

• [] The King - I'll learn more from talking to the king
• [] The Others - I guess I'll try my hand at being social for once

Another action: Should I test the limits of this dream?

• [] I guess I should. It's getting too real for my tastes
• [] Nah. Let's have fun while it lasts. My last isekai dream wasn't nearly this vivid.

 

[giodan]

• [X] The King - I'll learn more from talking to the king

• [X] Nah. Let's have fun while it lasts. My last isekai dream wasn't nearly this vivid.

 

[wingstrike96]

[X] The King - I'll learn more from talking to the king
[X] Nah. Let's have fun while it lasts. My last isekai dream wasn't nearly this vivid.

 

[veekie]

[X] The King - I'll learn more from talking to the king
[X] I guess I should. It's getting too real for my tastes

 

[Arbitbit39]

can communicate with flora,

Click to shrink...

when picking the herb collecting quest

MC pick herbal plants
herbal plants wailing of terror and death

 

[TheEpicLotfi]

I turned back to the King, who was already several steps ahead of me, and decided to just go with him. I wasn't quite… good with other people in my age-bracket, and I didn't want that affecting my mood. This was already a pretty unreal situation, so far, and despite the confusion, I found myself relaxed, not exactly wanting to wake up just yet.

With a slight skip, I caught up to the King. He didn't turn his head as we walked, and I noticed that he wasn't particularly tall for someone of his status. We were both more or less the same exact height.

"Uh, Your Majesty."

"Yes?"

"Do you mind if I bother you with questions of our situation?"

"Actually, I would be more than happy if you could answer some of my own questions," he stated. "For example, you seem to be quite informed about why you were brought here, with a clear exception to the part about us fighting the demons. I'm afraid that era of war is over."

"Wait, why?"

"Ah, ah, ah," he said with a sly smirk. "You must answer my question, first."

How the hell could I answer this? My lord, it's a cliché concocted by Japanese fantasy writers. Or… that wasn't right. Harry Potter was pretty Isekai in and of itself. Wait. You could even go further behind than that. Narnia comes to mind. Alice in Wonderland. Peter Pan! Gulliver's Trave-

"I'm waiting."

"Oh," I muttered dumbly. "It's a fictional genre," I admitted. "A common one, too. So basically, you have a world that's about to, uhm, go under. The King uses transportation magic to summon heroes to save the day. Usually, there's something special about them. Either they level up faster, or they already arrive with great power."

The king stopped in his tracks. "That is… oddly specific."

Crap. Did I break him, already? After a slight shiver, he continued walking. I had to ask. "Are… you alright?"

"Just… fascinated by the similarity, but I'm alright."

"Good. Can I ask a question, now?"

"Please do."

"What is my cheat-like ability?"

What? I had to ask!

"Excuse me?"

"I just explained that the summoning usually happens because these heroes have abilities unlike any other."

"Ah, that," he coughed in his fist. "That is entirely up to your affinity for any art, whether arcane in nature or physical. You are indeed correct that there is something special about you all. Because you were not born from this world, you will also not suffer its limitations, but due to the nature of the summoning ritual, you may still draw from it certain benefits that you did not enjoy in your old world."

"Wait, it's pre-determined by an affinity?" I sputtered. "Then what if I get a terrible one?"

"There are no 'terrible' affinities," he replied. "Even if you somehow gain the class of a [Farmer] or a [Blacksmith], you will still be able to grow several square-miles of produce in mere weeks and produce powerful enough weapons to turn the tides of war. This is because there is no end to your potential."

The hell? So I could be anything, but turned up to eleven-hundred?

"Hopefully, your affinity would point towards something more immediately useful, but I do give you my word that you will not be treated poorly if you were to somehow, if that's even possible, disappoint. We summoned you here, so that makes us responsible for your safety and happiness."

Mollified by his assurances, I continued on in that line of questions. About a month ago, every person with precognition in this world saw a vision of apocalypse at the same exact time. Every single conflict in Discordia ended at once as people grew to realize the imminent threat that was looming. They all joined hands to summon us, and King Hammurabi, here, was their representative, but not their leader.

Then came the really important questions. "Are there beastkin, here?"

He gave me the stink-eye. "That's a derogatory term. They prefer the more civilized 'demi-human', so don't get caught saying that."

Eeeeeep! "You mean there are cat people?!"

"Again, call them Felis. They resent the implications as much as you'd resent being called an ape person."

Yeeeeeeeees! "What about… rabbit people?"

"Don't mention the animal," he snapped. "You can't just mix together 'animal' and 'people' and expect people to not get offended!"

"Alright, then… how about… people, with characteristics akin to that of, in the most respectful of terms," he was giving me a flat stare, now. "A rabbit."

Then he groaned. "Yes, they exist. They are called the Harus. And to pre-empt you in case you ask another question again, yes, that derivation of demi-human probably also exists. Despite their difference in appearance, they are all truly the same exact species, and can interbreed if they so desire, but their children will not become hybrids."

The hell? That sounded awesome.

The king sighed. "In your guest room, I will have my steward personally deliver books about different races since you seem so interested in it all. It's as if your world doesn't have differing races."

"We do," I told him. "But they're all still human. They just have… different… skin color, I guess. They're all still functionally the same species, though. Some people even argue that race is a social construct since it doesn't matter all that much to people who aren't bigoted."

"Why would there be bigotry in a world with only one intelligent specie?"

"People are weird," I shrugged. "Anyway, what happens tomorrow after we find out our affinities? Are you setting us off on an adventure?"

"Adventure?"

"You know, fight in dungeons, complete quests and gain levels-er, I mean, strength. That was what you were intending, yes?"

"We were intending on setting you off on supervised expeditions after having you all establish an appropriate level of power. It is well known that if one wants to hone their personal strength, one becomes an adventurer."

Good. At least this wasn't a hamfisted attempt to subvert all the tropes, especially the one isekai trope that really got my heart pumping. Adventure.

I'd have to construct a party, of course. With one cat-person, a dog-person, a rabbit-person and maybe even a demon!

Wait… I think I remember seeing humans with wings back in the summoning room. There were all kinds of people, there, like a Hollywood CGI costume party. I didn't have nearly enough time to take in all of them with my sleep-deprived mind.

"Were you a commoner before you arrived here?"

"That's derogatory," I remarked. "Well, at least in my world, it is. But yes. My dad worked as the vice president of a company so I was better off than most." He earned about two-hundred thousand euros a year, but was constantly busy with work.

"Why would the term 'commoner' be derogatory?" He asked. "Social classes are a fact of life. Try as you might, you cannot overturn the hierarchy."

I tilted my head curiously. "Does the word 'revolution' mean nothing to you?"

"Revolutions are simply a shift in equilibrium. You leap from one stable point to another, and it always bends towards leading and following."

A king would definitely think that, wouldn't he. I wasn't about to argue politics with a ki-

"Pardon me, king," the Kenyan guy said, standing a couple of steps behind with the rest of the summonees, who had all elected, it seemed, to listen while I interviewed the king. "Could I interest you with some knowledge to widen your ken? Have you ever heard of communism?"

I turned to glare at him. "Dude."

"Did I hear 'communism'?" The country hick intoned. "Hey, black fella, how 'bout you mosey on back to whatever shithole you crawled out of and-"

"WhoawhoWHOA!" One of the girls there, a black girl who hadn't said anything so far, grabbed the hick by his collar. "The fuck do you think you're saying?"

"Please, guys, let's just calm down," the androgynous person tried to mediate. They had long hair tied with a hair-band, but their baggy clothes made it difficult to ascertain their sex. Even their voice was pretty unisex, on the deeper end for a girl, or on the higher-pitched end for a guy. They turned to the hick and scowled at him. "That wasn't cool, you know."

The Kenyan guy was just smirking. "Does communism really bother you that much?"

The black girl let go of him. He sighed. "Well, aside from the fact that it's pretty stupid, I think we could all agree that things don't need to get violent. First and last warning."

I was once again acutely aware of the fact that he was armed. My gaze fell on the cloaked guy who was hiding even heavier-duty ordnance right under all that fabric.

Having made my mind up, I decided that I didn't quite like the guy. Closing my eyes, I tried to seize control of my subconscious and erase him from my dream. I opened my eyes and he was still there.

Fine. Be like that.

The brunette who had recovered from her panic attack found her voice. "So you're just going to threaten people with the gun you keep on your side when shit doesn't go your way? What kind of psycho does that?"

"A psycho that wants to protect this world from Marxist bullshit. You think I'm just gonna share all my shit with people? Who the hell do you think I am?"

"That's not even Marxism," the Korean girl snapped, striding forward. "I think you're a dangerous element in this group. You're armed, willing to threaten people, and completely unhinged!"

"Better the devil you know, don't you think?" He responded before pointing at the cloaked guy. "That idiot's hiding a Kalashnikov under his dress," and his finger moved to another person, dressed rather nicely, with a tight, long-sleeved black shirt and khakis. He was dark-haired, had hawkish features, a sharp chin and jawline, high cheekbones and piercing, blue eyes. "And I don't even know what the fuck that guy's deal is."

The dark-haired teen said nothing for almost five full seconds. Then, he said "I am a servant of Jesus Christ All-Mighty, who commands the Heavenly Kingdom."

This just keeps getting more interesting.

"We're gonna get along right dandy if it turns out you ain't lyin'."

I turned to the king, who was watching, with absolutely no intention of breaking anything up.

I guess I'd have to take matters into my own hand. As the protagonist, I had to. "You need to calm the hell down, hillbilly."

"What are ya gonna do about it, Kraut?" He sneered. I walked towards him, ignoring the jibe.

"I think the question is: what are you gonna do about it. You've been waving that gun around, but I haven't heard a single bullet go off. Is it even loaded?"

I stopped right in front of him. "You lookin' to die, hun?"

"I don't think you have the stomach for it," I said, "And I think you're smart enough to know that doing anything with that contraption of yours will have the king pissed off, and I'm pretty willing to bet that authority equals ass-kicking in this world."

"What the hell are you even talking about," he said flatly. I just stared him down. He shrugged, and in another moment, he pulled the gun from his holster fluidly and pointed it at me. Maybe it was the sleep-deprivation preventing me from reacting fast enough since I hadn't moved an inch from my spot, but when my brain caught up, I had to resist flinching. "You think you're tough, don't you?"

"Go ahead, hillbilly. Make my day."

Fabric rustled. The cloaked guy revealed the full length of his rifle, pointing it straight at hillbilly's back. "I swear to God, I can kill you."

Hillbilly didn't even look away. "Then put your money where your mouth is, Ay-rab! Turn me into swiss cheese!"

"I think not!" Church boy said, stepping into the line of fire, arms spread. "This has gone on for too long! I will not have you take the life of a fellow believer in Lord-"

I interrupted his spiel, already tired of it. "Jesus Christ, you're annoying. Does the bible say anything about this place? No, it doesn't, because it's not real. This place probably has a completely different set of gods, and I'm one-million percent sure they haven't heard of Jesus!"

"His presence still lingers in my soul!" He protested. "He guides me even now! You are misguided, but I can guide you to the light, but only if we lay down our weapons!"

A gust of wind blew through the hallway. Suddenly, in front of my face, a gun wasn't being pointed anymore. It was hillbilly's finger. Likewise, the cloaked guy's assault rifle had vanished.

I turned back at the king, both firearms in both of his hands. "You all need rest. Come with me, quietly, and you will have your weapons back. Until then, I would appreciate if you ceased your grievances. Hillbilly-"

"The name's Duke," he nearly barked.

"Duke. Walk in front of me. The rest of you walk behind me. There is need for all of you, and we will be most displeased in the event that even one of you perish to petty, internal squabbles."

We all waited for Duke to do as he was told, not daring to say anything while the king bore that presence of intimidation, rolling out from him in waves. For a monarch, he certainly proved to all of us that he wasn't just a push-over, explaining the clear lack of an honour guard surrounding him. If I had to guess, most of the security forces were probably stationed outside of the building to protect from external threats, and with so many most-likely powerful people inside, the king obviously had no reason to stay on edge.

After all, King Hammurabi was just the 'representative', not the director of all those other monarchs, and if he was fast enough to pluck weapons out of someone's hands from five yards away without being noticed without even breaking a sweat, I had to wonder what the others were capable of.

Duke begrudgingly obeyed, striding forward with a tense look on his face. He looked bashful, if a bit angry, too. Good. He didn't strike me as a psychopathic archetype since those were much more difficult to spot and weren't prone to stupid moves. If I had to guess, he was most likely just an asshole.

Letting Duke walk about three meters ahead, the king then followed, and as if he used an invisible tether, we all began to follow as well.

I belatedly realized that I, too, began to keep my distance from the king on account of how intimidating he seemed. I was in a rather comfortable limbo between him and a ways away to the side of the rest of the group, close enough to hear their dialogue, but far enough that participating would make it awkward.

"Hey, pretty lady," the Kenyan boy said to the other black girl in the group, subtly gravitating towards her position. "Thanks a lot for the help. Any way I can repay you?"

The girl gave him a brief, scrutinizing look before once again turning her gaze ahead. "Don't get all excited. He was pissing me off."

"I know, right? Who doesn't love communism?" he sounded sincere, but I was willing to wager that he was probably not. "In fact, I think I'd want to share something with you."

"Are you asking to get slapped?"

"I'd rather have that hand in marriage, but do as you please."

Instead of a riposte, her arm shot to her side, punching him right on his shoulder. "Ouch."

As we turned another corner to a narrower hallway that led to a balcony walkway overlooking an ocean of lights that had to be from a city, the group finally had to merge, and now I was in the thick of it, and to make matters worse, I was next to the cloaked guy, now. He looked about ten centimetres taller and quite bulky, though I chalked that down to the sheer amount of clothes he was wearing.

Which begged one question: wasn't he hot in there? Far be it from me to ask him that as I subtly added more distance between ourselves. Of course, the king still carried his automatic rifle, but that didn't make him any less intimidating. He could be carrying any number of weapons beneath all that. I had barely even gotten a good look of his face underneath the shadow of his hood.

Just as I was mustering the courage to unearth what that guy's deal was, the King stopped in front of a door. He gestured towards it for all of us to see. "This will be all your quarters for the foreseeable future."

"Wait," the Korean girl said. "You're mixing both sexes together?"

"Is that an issue?" he asked. "Because if it is, I can have new quarters prepared, but it will be difficult to port all your amenities at such short notice. The initial plan was to have you all bond as a collective."

I crossed my arms. "We can't bond if we have to keep one eye open all night."

"You wanna go, Kraut?"

I shook my head. "I'm not just talking about you, Hillbilly. I'm talking about him," I pointed at the cowled guy. "Church Boy, that soon-to-be sex-offender, hell, even the preppy, smart guy with the glasses. The simple fact is that we don't know each other. Neither do we trust each other all that much. And let's be honest, all the weirdos are guys." My eyes slid over the androgynous person, and I was torn between trying to amend myself lest I offended them, or just leave it be and bank on the trust that they were female.

Church Boy, for his part, slapped his chest and spoke with pure conviction. "Why should my fidelity be grounds for ostracism? I have done absolutely nothing wrong!"

The black girl also spoke. "It's a stretch to call that idiot a soon-to-be-sex offender."

"To the rescue again, my-"

"I don't know why I bothered."

"Would you like a chaperone?" The king suggested. "I can have someone quite responsible watch over you. I trust him with my life."

Him. I wasn't quite sold on that one, actually.

The Kenyan guy spoke up again. "I hope it's a girl."

I couldn't with this guy. "He just said 'him', you idiot!"

"Yeah," he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And I hope it's a girl."

"Are you stupid or something?"

"How are you so sure it's not a girl?"

"Because the king just said 'him'!" I screamed.

He looked completely lost. "How does that, in any way whatsoever, eliminate the possibility that it's a girl?"

"Him. Means. Man."

"It could mean a girl, too."

"In what world?!"

"Respectfully, ma'am, are you stupid?"

I was about to pull up my sleeves and fist-fight this dolt, but I reigned myself in. Ignore him. Just ignore him.

"Well?" Asked the king. "Would the proposed chaperone be to your liking?"

The Korean girl spoke first. "I suppose so. We've put our trust in you to take care of us, so there isn't much that I fear."

She made sense. The brunette who spazzed out earlier, despite my expectations, finally said something. "I mean, sure, whatever."

"That's fine with me," I said.

The king didn't budge until all of us agreed. Once we did, he opened the door. The place was decked out in decoration, much larger than any of us had probably anticipated. Paintings lined the wall as well as ornate carvings on the wall, along the ceiling and the floor. A series of couches were lined at the edge of the large carpet in the center of the room. A series of entrances led to other unseen parts of the house, no doubt to bedrooms or toile-

I turned my head to the king. "Do you have toilets in this world? Do they flush? Do we have to dig pits or something?"

The king responded as he handed the handgun and the rifle to their rightful owners. "No, no, no, we're not barbarians," he said. "The toilets are operated using magic. You may relieve yourself to your heart's content without worrying about cleaning it, though I do recommend you wash yourself after the fact. A commoner you may be, but I'm afraid that simply won't be tolerated anymore."

Shit, was he serious? His face said so. While the rest of them filed in, I couldn't help but try and scrutinize him closer. I decided to give him the benefit of doubt since he had been nothing but courteous with us until now, at least. "There's a lot that I'd like to share with you about my world."

"I'll be here for that, once you receive your rest. Also, I never received your name. Come to think of it, I didn't receive any of your names."

"Clara Stein."

"I expect greatness from you, Clara Stein. Go on, now. I've kept you long enough. If any of you would like to partake in food, you only have to ask your chaperone and he will have someone come over."

I turned to face the rest of the youths dallying around, absorbing the opulence of the room. They had good reason to. Absolutely everything here looked so damn high-effort and painstaking. I feared even touching the walls lest I ruin something pricele-

Everyone's favourite idiot had just jumped straight into one of the couches. It didn't even creak. "Wow, this place is fucking awesome, holy shit!"

Feeling tired, I decided to sit down as well, on a couch across from his, though I made sure not to make eye-contact with him. The cloaked guy, the only guy who, it seemed, straight up didn't give a shit about the room, was finally taking off his layers, revealing a rather mundane sweatshirt/sweatpant combo with gloves. He took off the hoodie and laid it on the bunch next to him, almost covering the AK entirely. He turned around and saw me looking. I turned my head elsewhere way too conspicuously, but I found myself too tired to get worked up over it.

Once everyone had finally gotten enough of the room, we all sat on the couches. With a clear exception to the brunette and the one that comforted her, we were all rather far from each other, at least one seat-cushion away. AK-guy and the Hillbilly monopolized entire sofas for themselves.

"So," the Kenyan guy said. "Introductions, right? I'm Josepheth, but you can call me Jo. Or Joseph. Or Josepheth, if you like. I don't care.. I'm from Kenya. I like history, messing around and girls."

The androgynous person spoke. "I'm Peace Yellowstone," the fuck? "I'm from San Francisco. Uh, that's in America. I guess I like nature and animals."

The girl next to them continued. "I'm Angelica Crane. American, but I live in China. See, uh, I go to school there. I like… music, I guess."

"Han Jae-Lin. I live in Korea."

We all waited for her to continue.

"I like music, too."

"Wait," Josepheth interrupted. "North or South?"

"South," she said with furrowed eyebrows. "Why would you possibly ask me if I came from that wretched hellhole of a country?"

"I mean," he shrugged, "You didn't specify."

"Let's continue," Peace jumped in. We all waited for the next person to carry the torch. I decided it would be me.

"I'm Clara Stein. I'm from Germany. I like reading and writing fantasy novels," you're all also figments of my demented imagination.

"Ionie Williams," said the black girl. "Kingston, Jamaica. I like math."

"You can take a look at my numbers."

I chuckled. What? This guy wasn't giving up, and I'm pretty sure my brain was the one coming up with all these ripostes. It had to have happened sooner or later.

"Good one," she said sarcastically.

I turned to the last few unintroduced people in the room. The preppy guy spoke first.

"I'm Benjamin and you can call me Benjamin. I'm from England. What I like doesn't matter."

Edgy.

Finally, it was hillbilly's turn. "Let me preface this by saying: no, I'm not sorry. Understood?"

Josepheth gave a smile and nodded. "Yes."

"I'm Duke Derbyville, from the U.S of A, Texas. I'm a legal gun-owner. I like guns, shooting with guns, making gun, the works. What I don't like is being confused and spoken over like I'm some sort of idiot, and I don't take well to perceived threats. Now I don't quite dislike any of you all that much, yet, though I'm not sure if that's mutual, but if our survival is hinging on us working together, then I say we do. That alright?"

We all seemed to nod one way or another.

Finally, it was Church Boy and AK-guy. I wasn't even sure who I wanted to hear introduce themselves, yet. Both of them were characters to say the least.

Church Boy took the lead, however. "My name is Giuseppe Sarto. I'm from a village in Italy. I am a Catholic, the son of a bishop, and would one day love to take on that self-same mantle. I like everything that has to do with our Lord Jesus Christ, the ineffable. I draw strength from his presence, and if you are ever in need of emotional support, do not hesitate to see me."

The hell was his problem?

Before I could ask him that, AK-guy continued. "I am Saeed. I'm from Yemen. I like…" He stopped to think. "Sunrises."

That was it?

"Great," Josepheth said. "So-"

"Wait," I said. "This guy has an automatic rifle, and has made no attempt to explain that."

Benjamin spoke impassively. "I'm not sure he wants to share."

What the hell, dream? I could tell there was an interesting back-story here. At least tell me what it was?

Saeed, however, spoke. "I picked it up from a dead rebel. I haven't fired it, so I'm not sure if it has bullets. If possible, I would like to never fire it."

That was only slightly reassuring, if only for his pained expression.

"So," Josepheth continued. "You're in a strange land and are told to fight a war. You're also told that you'll get superpowers to help out. What're you gonna do?"

"Fight," I replied, like it was obvious. "I mean, at least you'd be doing something worthwhile compared to whatever you were doing on Earth."

"Wait, guys," Angelica's voice quavered. "Can they send us back after they're done with us?"

Benjamin said "If they brought us here, the only logical conclusion is that they can take us back. Well, that is if we do what they brought us here to do. I mean, if we fail, there probably won't be anyone alive to take us back."

Josepheth raised a finger. "You also forgot the part where we might also be dead."

"That, too," Benjamin said.

"I'm 'a need me more firepower."

We fell into a lull for a moment until Angelica said something. "That's it? You guys just… accept what's about to happen?"

I shrugged. "I mean, this is working out for me. I've always wanted to be a hero of legend."

"Well, my life was fine before I arrived!"

Benjamin replied in a heartbeat. "Then why did you walk through the door?"

She fell silent.

"Why?" He asked again.

She still didn't reply.

"I guess that settles it," he shrugged. "We're all here because we want to be here. That's why none of us are really all broken up about it, save for maybe wanting to come home one day. I say that's an excellent arrangement, all things considered."

I found myself agreeing, actually.

Someone knocked on the door. "I'll get it," I said, getting up from the couch. I ambled over to the door and opened it, only to find no one.

Some kind of dumb prank?

"This is a motley bunch," I heard an unfamiliar voice behind me say. I turned to see an unfamiliar man. His eyes were wide-open, and his grin looked practically manic. We all tensed up, Duke and Saeed reaching for their weapons and pointing them at the intruder. He looked right at the weapons in slight bewilderment. "What are those?"

"It'll be the last thing you see if you don't cut the crap and tell us what the hell you just did?"

"Hm? Your friend over there opened the door, so I entered. I am your chaperone for the night. I am called Finnius."

"You're the guy the king sent?" Duke asked in disbelief. "Prove it."

"I really don't know how," he admitted candidly. "Is there anything I can do to put any of you at ease?"

Saeed had already lowered his weapon, mollified by the man's attitude. Duke faltered only slightly before holstering the firearm once again.

"Great," he beamed. "So what's on the agenda, kids? Were you in the middle of a game, mayhaps? Would you be offended if I participated?"

Nobody said anything, well, until Benjamin decided to stand up. "I'm going to bed."

I yawned after his proclamation. Suddenly, like a giant mattress smothering me, my exhaustion struck me head-on. I hadn't slept in over thirty-six hours, having pulled one all-nighter the night before, having been busy story-boarding the next few arcs of Ouhime-Sama no Great Isekai.

And it would be nice to just put this dream to an end, since my tiredness was probably going to continue carrying over to everything I did. Annoying, but strangely nifty, since this dream was proving to be quite realistic.

I took to one of the hallways, walking to the end of it until I saw a glass door leading out to a balcony. Feeling slightly curious, I opened the door to the balcony to have a look of the view.

Despite being a fantasy setting, the city lights were still very impressive. This world still hadn't learned of the wonders of building upwards, so the flat and dense nature of the houses made it easy to gauge the slope of the landscape leading all the way down to a glistening coast lit up by a full moon, and a much larger half-moon right next to that one.

I closed my eyes and pressed my palms against them. I was way too tired to appreciate any of it.

Entered the hallway once again, and once more into the common room before turning to another hallway which led to two different doors to a bathroom and a bedroom.

The only issue was that Saeed was in that bedroom taking off his shirt, revealing his bare skin and a lean torso. He wasn't exactly swimsuit model-tier, and I could count all his ribs on my hands, though most of that was mitigated by his muscles. His head ducked out of the garment as he saw me looking, standing at his doorway with no shame in the world.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice gravelly as ever. "This room is occupied."

That managed to knock me out of my funk. "Right. Sorry. Saeed, right?"

"Yes. You are… Clara."

"Yes."

I looked at him for a bit longer.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

I shook my head rapidly. "Sorry," I backed away from the doorway. "Sorry. Good n-" What? "Bye."

I walked towards another bend of the hallways until I found another room, this time unclaimed. Crawled down the blankets and put my head on the pillo-

---

I woke up to the sunrise shining in my face, feeling absolutely rested.

Fuck.

Fuck!

I never feel well-rested on a weekday. Did I sleep in again? If so, why's there a sunrise-

Wait just a fucking second.

Just one second.

Okay, two more seconds.

Right. My window doesn't face the sunrise. It faces the sunset. Also, my bed isn't nearly this fluffy. Also, also, my room isn't nearly this decorated.

Why is-

Summoning

Heroes

King

Apocalypse

Some fucking idiot

I gasped. Isekai-land. It wasn't a dream.

"It wasn't a dream!" I screamed, squealing as I got out the bed to dance. "It wasn't a dream!"

I stood still for a second. "Okay, focus. Magic." I took a deep breath and looked for a power source inside my soul. The giddiness I felt doing that tripled as I felt a fluttering in my stomach. I pointed at the window and shouted "Fireball!"

I felt the power coursing through my body, into my hands, and-

Nothing.

Someone opened my door violently. I turned with a jump to see the bewildered face of Finnius. "What was that?"

"I-uh, this-uh… I'm-"

"Were you trying to summon a fireball?"

I held my hip. "What if I was?"

His bewildered expression eased out, replaced by his genial, if a bit manic grin. "There's breakfast on the table if you'd like some."

"Uh, I would, I think."

"Great!" He said, leaving the room rather quickly. With him out of my hair, I could focus on the more important things like showering and-

Uh.

Hm.

I don't have any spare clothes.

Absently, I opened one of the huge closets and found piles of different clothes with a note on top.

I took the note and tried to read it. All I saw were squiggly lines and ooooohmygod, I can read it.

"I can read it," I whispered.

Inside, for you, young hero, are enchanted fabrics

Nothing more than that.

That still didn't have me hesitate from tossing off my own clothes and putting on a pair of baggy white pants and a somewhat frilly blouse that hung way too loosely around me.

And like magic, they both tightened.

"Shit," I said, eyes wide. "That's what it meant with 'enchanted'!"

With that, I proceeded back to the common room where the rest of the 'heroes' sat and enjoyed their breakfast. I was the last one to arrive.

Josepheth was still bugging Ionie, though she seemed less hostile about it. Peace and Angelica, despite having been strangers until yesterday, were close as always. To my surprise, though, Jae Lin was actually speaking with Duke in a manner that didn't seem confrontational at all. Now that he wasn't wearing his stupid cowboy garb, he even looked more approachable even though he still held that aura of delinquency in the way he spoke and acted.

That left Church Boy Giuseppe, Benjamin, Saeed and I practically alone in the crowd. The latter two didn't seem to mind while the former was completely engrossed in prayer, having still not touched his food.

I finished my food quickly enough, and when we had all finished, the king entered our room once more.

"Today is the day that you will forge your path ahead. Follow me."

And we did. We followed him to an expansive courtyard where several hundred shrines were aligned in a circle, all shapes and sizes, effigies of monsters and people of different roles. Beyond the king and Finnius, we were the only ones in this courtyard. I imagined it was to lessen the pressure on ourselves so that we wouldn't feel too ashamed if one of us, no matter how overpowered, ended up becoming a Farmer or whatever.

"Now," he said. "No pressure. Who wants to go first?"

This was it, then.

---

Major Decision: Who wants to go first?

[] Let me go first. Better get this out of the way quickly

[] I don't want to embarrass myself. Let someone else go first.




Social Decision: Make Friends?

[] Benjamin seems way less scary and he doesn't seem like he's got any friends

[] Saeed seems like a nice enough guy, if a bit mysterious. Maybe I should go for him.

[] Maybe Church Boy isn't so bad. I barely know him.

[] We could make a friend group with all three of us!



Erudite decision: Go to the library?

[] I need to find out more about this world's political climate. It might help me understand my role in this apocalypse better. Maybe, once this is all said and done, I could take over my own country?

[] The theology of this world must be interested. Because there is magic, there must be gods out there, too. Maybe it will help me make strides in my own [Class]?

[] The king didn't deny the existence of dungeons or adventurers. If I want to find a nice way to train, I should probably research all about dungeons and adventuring. Don't want to die, after all.

 

[veekie]

[X] Let me go first. Better get this out of the way quickly
[X] I need to find out more about this world's political climate. It might help me understand my role in this apocalypse better. Maybe, once this is all said and done, I could take over my own country?

 

[Kalrotix]

[X] Let me go first. Better get this out of the way quickly
[X] Benjamin seems way less scary and he doesn't seem like he's got any friends
[X] I need to find out more about this world's political climate. It might help me understand my role in this apocalypse better. Maybe, once this is all said and done, I could take over my own country?

 

[Just Some Guy]

[X] Let me go first. Better get this out of the way quickly
[X] Benjamin seems way less scary and he doesn't seem like he's got any friends
[X] I need to find out more about this world's political climate. It might help me understand my role in this apocalypse better. Maybe, once this is all said and done, I could take over my own country?

 

[Pandemonious Ivy]

[X] Let me go first. Better get this out of the way quickly
[X] Saeed seems like a nice enough guy, if a bit mysterious. Maybe I should go for him.
[X] The theology of this world must be interested. Because there is magic, there must be gods out there, too. Maybe it will help me make strides in my own [Class]?

1. Isekei confidence is a go
2. The QM is a filthy shipper and I love it
3. We're about to get our Class now, might as well knock off the low hanging fruit

What a great intro, our MC is juuuust this side of several -ists tho, poor thing.