The first thing Haruto Miyazaki noticed was the sky.
It was wrong.
Not wrong in color—it was blue, painfully blue—but in depth. It felt too far away, as if the world itself was larger than it should be. The clouds were layered, drifting at different heights, some thin as mist, others heavy like stone. They did not move like Earth's clouds. They slid, slowly, deliberately.
Haruto's head throbbed.
Cold marble pressed against his palms.
He pushed himself up, breath sharp, heart racing—and froze.
He was not alone.
Twelve students stood—or sat, or knelt—inside a vast circular hall. Golden light formed a complex magic array beneath their feet, lines intersecting like an impossible geometry. Ancient symbols glowed faintly, humming like distant thunder.
Tall pillars rose toward the ceiling, carved with reliefs of battles, monsters, and figures wielding weapons that felt more myth than history.
Some of the students were shouting.
Some were crying.
Some were silent.
The Twelve
"Where the hell are we?!"
That voice belonged to Kenta Aoyama—loud, muscular, already clenching his fists like the world had personally offended him. He was the captain of their school's kendo club, the type who always believed he could punch his way through reality.
"This is a dream, right?" whispered Mio Kanzaki, her fingers gripping the hem of her skirt. Her eyes darted everywhere at once, breath shallow.
"No… this isn't a dream," said Takumi Sera, glasses cracked slightly, already analyzing the magic circle beneath them. "Dreams don't have consistent geometric logic."
Haruto recognized everyone.
That made it worse.
They were classmates. Not friends—just people who shared the same school, the same hallway noises, the same boring mornings. Ordinary lives, interrupted mid-step.
Haruto Miyazaki — quiet, observant, average at everything.
Kenta Aoyama — aggressive, confident, fearless.
Riku Tanabe — sarcastic, arms crossed, pretending not to be afraid.
Souta Nishimura — smiling too much, eyes avoiding everyone.
Yui Hoshino — kind, already trying to comfort Mio.
Mio Kanzaki — trembling, overwhelmed.
Takumi Sera — logical, detached.
Akira Fujimoto — silent, eyes sharp.
Naoki Ueda — muttering prayers under his breath.
Hana Morimoto — furious, glaring at the robed figures ahead.
Shun Kobayashi — pale, nauseous.
Emi Kuroda — unreadable, standing perfectly still.
Twelve names.
Twelve lives.
None of them had agreed to be here.
The Kingdom Speaks
At the far end of the hall stood humans in ceremonial robes, their expressions solemn, reverent, almost relieved.
A man stepped forward. Middle-aged. Golden insignia on his chest. A crown resting lightly upon his head.
"I am King Albrecht Valen of the Kingdom of Lumeria," he announced.
His voice echoed unnaturally. "You have been summoned as Heroes."
The word fell heavy.
Hana laughed—a sharp, angry sound.
"You kidnapped us."
A murmur rippled through the nobles.
The king did not deny it.
"The world of Leorthus is in peril," he said calmly. "Demons march. Monsters rise. The balance collapses. Only heroes from another world can stand against fate."
Riku scoffed.
"So you dragged a bunch of teenagers into a war?"
A robed priest stepped forward.
"Your souls resonate with this world's laws. It was necessary."
Haruto felt something twist in his chest.
Necessary.
No apology. No choice.
They were given explanations.
About continents—eight known lands. About monsters, ranked from J to SSS. About demons, ruled by a single Demon King.
It all sounded… organized.
Too organized.
Kenta's eyes burned with excitement.
"So if we get strong, we can go home, right?"
The king hesitated.
"Perhaps," he said.
That single word lodged itself in Haruto's mind.
Perhaps.
The First Blessing
A wave of warmth washed over them.
Symbols flickered before Haruto's eyes—numbers, words, unfamiliar metrics. It vanished before he could focus.
Takumi inhaled sharply.
"Status… something just evaluated us."
The priest nodded.
"You have received the Hero's Initial Blessing. Growth acceleration. Resistance to corruption. Basic language comprehension."
Naoki swallowed.
"So… we're really not going back."
No one answered him.
That Night
They were given rooms.
Clean. Spacious. Comfortable.
Too comfortable.
Haruto lay awake, staring at a ceiling carved with constellations that did not exist on Earth.
Somewhere down the hall, Mio cried quietly.
Kenta laughed loudly, boasting about becoming a legend.
Souta joked to hide the tremor in his voice.
And Haruto realized something terrifying.
No one had asked if they wanted to be heroes.
The world had already decided.