The hum started subtly, a low thrum vibrating through the worn floorboards of Elias's small, sparsely furnished apartment. It was a familiar annoyance in his quiet corner of Sapporo, Japan, usually just the distant rumble of a passing train or the persistent drone of city traffic. But this was different. This sound resonated in his very bones, growing rapidly, accompanied by a blinding, pulsating light that erupted from the ancient tatami mat beneath his feet. Elias, eighteen years old, lean from his rigorous kendo training and mentally sharp from devouring every piece of classical literature and historical text he could find, had barely enough time to adjust his spectacles before the world dissolved into an agonizing kaleidoscope of colors and sensations.
He remembered a fleeting image: a vast, glowing circle on a polished stone floor, intricate runes blazing with an unbearable brilliance, and then, the sensation of being stretched, pulled, compressed, and finally, falling.
He landed hard on cold, smooth stone, the impact rattling his teeth. The light vanished as abruptly as it had appeared, plunging him into a dimly lit chamber. A cacophony of voices, sharp and foreign, assaulted his ears. His head swam, and a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him. He pushed himself up, his limbs aching, and blinked, trying to clear his vision.
Around him, a scene unfolded that seemed ripped straight from the pages of his favorite fantasy novels. Tall, ornate pillars reached towards a vaulted, impossibly high ceiling. Robed figures, their faces a mixture of awe and stern solemnity, stood arranged around a massive, glowing Summoning Circle.
Intricate patterns of light still pulsed faintly on the floor. In the center of the circle, where Elias had somehow materialized, stood three other individuals.
They were clearly not from his world. A man with shoulders like a blacksmith's anvil, his red hair braided with intricate metal beads, radiated an aura of raw power. This was Borin Stonefist, a champion of the Dwarven Kingdom of Khazad-Dum. Beside him, a woman of ethereal grace, her long, silver hair adorned with woven leaves, held a delicate, glowing staff. She was Elara Whisperwind, an emissary from the Elven Kingdom of Sylvani. The third, a stern-faced human knight in gleaming plate armor, gripped a massive two-handed sword that seemed to hum with faint energy. This was Sir Gareth Ironclad, a revered warrior of the Human Kingdom of Veridian. They all looked strong, formidable, their eyes scanning the chamber with a seasoned wariness.
Then, their gazes, and those of the robed figures, fell upon Elias.
A gasp rippled through the room. "Another? By the Gods, what blasphemy is this?!" a stern, elderly man in elaborate purple robes exclaimed, his voice booming. This was Grand Arch-Mage Lysander, the chief summoner of the Human Kingdom of Veridian. His face, etched with lines of power and cunning, registered genuine shock before settling into a calculating mask.
A young woman, breathtakingly beautiful with eyes the color of emeralds and hair like spun gold, stepped forward. This was Princess Seraphina, daughter of King Valerius of Veridian, and the primary catalyst of the summoning ritual. Her face, initially alight with triumphant relief at the appearance of the three heroes, now twisted into a scowl of confusion and annoyance as her gaze lingered on Elias, still disoriented and clutching his head.
"The ritual called for three, Arch-Mage!" Princess Seraphina's voice was sharp, betraying a hint of panic. "Three champions for Aethelgard! Who is this...this extra?"
Elias tried to speak, to explain, but his voice hitched. The air felt heavy, dense with magic he couldn't comprehend. As he struggled for words, a faint, almost imperceptible ding sounded in his mind.
[Notification]
Summoning Anomaly Detected.
Core Abilities Activating.
System Calibration Complete.
Welcome, Elias, to Aethelgard.
[Player Status Window]
Name: Elias
Race: Human (Anomalous Origin)
Level: 1 (Dormant)
Health: 100/100
Stamina: 100/100
Mana: 500/500 (Locked - Significantly higher than average)
[Magical Affinities]
* Wind Magic: Level 0 (Dormant)
* Water Magic: Level 0 (Dormant)
* Fire Magic: Level 0 (Dormant)
* Earth Magic: Level 0 (Dormant)
* Dark Magic: Level 0 (Dormant - Access Restricted)
* Ultra-Rare Magic: Level 0 (Dormant - Monster Assimilation)
[Special Abilities (Passive)]
* Perception: Level 1 (Allows limited insight into others' basic stats if weaker than user)
* Dominant Tamer: Level 0 (Dormant - Allows taming of powerful beasts)
* Anomalous Resilience: Level 1 (Increased resistance to unfamiliar magical energies)
* Mana Conduit: Level 1 (Passive - Unlocks Elias's innate, vast mana reserves over time)
[Skills]
* Survival (Basic): Level 1
* Observation (Basic): Level 1
* Language Comprehension (Eldorian): Level 1 (Rapid Adaptation)
[Current Quests]
* Main Quest: Survival of the Unwanted.
* Description: You have been summoned by mistake. Your presence is seen as an anomaly, potentially a threat. Navigate this hostile new world.
* Reward: TBD
Elias stared at the panel, utterly bewildered. This was real. The fantasy he devoured was now his reality. He looked up, his eyes wide, as Grand Arch-Mage Lysander stepped forward, his expression now composed.
"Peace, Princess. While this anomaly is indeed unprecedented, he poses no immediate threat. His aura, though peculiar, is not overtly hostile." Lysander's words seemed to placate Seraphina somewhat, though her suspicion remained etched on her face. He then turned his gaze upon Elias, assessing him with a keen, unsettling intelligence. "Boy, state your name and origin."
"Elias," he managed, his voice still hoarse. "From... Sapporo, Japan."
A ripple of confusion went through the mages. They clearly had no knowledge of such a place.
The three summoned heroes were also observing him. Borin Stonefist, the dwarf, grunted, "He still feels soft. My Stone Skin passive doesn't detect any hidden strength within him." His gruff assessment carried weight among the royal retinue.
Elara Whisperwind, the elf, watched Elias with a nuanced curiosity. "His spirit is… untamed. My Nature's Guidance tells me he is a stranger to these lands, an echo from a distant, unknown realm." Her eyes, however, held a flicker of something almost akin to pity, though it quickly vanished.
Sir Gareth Ironclad, the human knight, merely crossed his arms, his passive skill, Battle Focus, highlighting Elias as an unknown quantity that required careful monitoring. "He stands here, but offers no power. He is merely... an excess."
Princess Seraphina's eyes narrowed. She had meticulously planned this ritual, her magical prowess a key component. The presence of this "extra" suggested a flaw, an imperfection that grated on her meticulous nature and her deep-seated insecurity about sharing the spotlight. A seed of resentment, cold and calculating, began to take root in her heart. He was an inconvenience, an unwanted variable. And in the complex dance of court politics and impending war, inconvenient variables were best eliminated.
"Very well," Lysander declared, his voice carrying authority. "Given the miraculous success of summoning our three true champions, and this... unforeseen visitor, we shall take a cautious approach. Boy, you will be given chambers within the palace, treated as a guest for now, alongside our esteemed heroes." He gestured to a guard. "Hektor, ensure he is comfortable. Provide him with proper attire and sustenance. He is to be monitored, of course, but not confined."
A burly guard named Hektor stepped forward, his usual scowl momentarily softened by curiosity. "As you command, Arch-Mage." He offered Elias a surprisingly neutral, if gruff, nod. "Follow me, lad."
Elias, still overwhelmed and bewildered, could only nod mutely. He glanced at Princess Seraphina one last time. Her emerald eyes met his, and he saw not just disdain, but a fleeting, almost imperceptible flash of something truly chilling – a predatory intelligence, already calculating. She acknowledged his gaze with a faint, almost imperceptible smirk, a silent promise of future malice.
As Hektor led Elias out of the grand chamber and through a labyrinth of opulent corridors, the air felt less heavy, but no less threatening. He was given a modest, yet clean and comfortable room in a less frequented wing of the palace. A servant soon arrived with a fresh tunic, trousers, and a hearty meal of stew, fresh bread, and watered wine. He ate slowly, his mind reeling. He was safe, for now, but the undercurrent of suspicion, especially from the princess, was palpable. He knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the bone, that his welcome was fragile, and that dark machinations were already beginning to stir within the glittering walls of this foreign palace. The fading light of his home was replaced by the deceptive grandeur of Aethelgard, where danger lurked beneath a thin veneer of hospitality.