The street lights flickered overhead, casting pale yellow halos on the empty sidewalks of a quiet Japanese suburb. The world was still, save for the soft crunch of gravel beneath worn shoes. Kaito Minazuki, a high school boy with tired eyes and a mind far older than his age, walked slowly toward the glowing sign of MoriMart — his second home, or perhaps his quiet prison.

A soft breath escaped his lips, curling into mist in the cool night air.

“Living is a blessing,” he muttered, voice heavy with exhaustion, “but lately, I’ve been paying too high a price for it. School fees, bills, this job… I need to figure something out, fast.”

The automatic doors of MoriMart slid open with a mechanical sigh, the fluorescent lights inside washing over him with an artificial brightness that only made his fatigue feel sharper. Behind the counter, his manager stood waiting, arms crossed and face stiff with annoyance.

“Ten minutes late again,” the man snapped, tossing a wrinkled employee coat at him. “That’s a deduction from today’s wages. You’re lucky I don’t fire you on the spot.”

Kaito didn’t respond. He caught the coat mid-air, slipping it on without a word.

“Get to work. No screw-ups tonight. Next time, I won’t be so generous.”

With that, the manager turned and walked out, leaving behind a silence that felt strangely comforting.

Kaito adjusted his collar and glanced around the store. The aisles were dim and still. Empty. Peaceful.

“Years I’ve been here,” he whispered under his breath. “Still can’t tell if this world is better or just quieter. But at least… I can breathe.”

He moved from shelf to shelf, rearranging misplaced cans, picking up trash, straightening labels like muscle memory. When no customers showed up, he stepped outside for a quick break, a cold canned drink in his hand. The chill seeped into his fingers, grounding him in the moment.

The night sky stretched wide above, painted in deep indigo and scattered with distant stars. He lowered himself to the curb, sitting on the cold pavement, back resting against the wall.

“I wonder how they’re doing,” he murmured to the stars. “Did they break their chains… or are they still trapped? Still bleeding for power?”

His gaze lingered on the sky.

“I like this place,” he said softly. “The silence. Here, I only hear wind. But there… it was never quiet. Only screams. Some in rage. Some in pain. Some begging not to die.”

The drink was gone before he realized it. He crushed the can and tossed it into the bin before stepping back inside to wait for customers. The rest of the night passed in monotony. A drunken man stumbled through the door, knocking over a display. A teenager tried to rob the register with a toy knife. A woman whispered sweet lies at the counter, hoping seduction might pay for groceries.

Kaito dealt with them all — with patience, boredom, or sharp silence.

By morning, his manager returned, yawning as he stepped through the door and tossed the coat onto the counter.

“I’m heading to bed. This job is getting boring,” the man mumbled, trying to sound stern but barely awake.

But Kaito didn’t wait to listen. He was already walking away.

The long road home was quiet, birds chirping faintly in the distance, and the faint golden light of morning slipping between the clouds. When he finally reached the small apartment he lived in alone, he kicked off his shoes, dropped his bag, and collapsed face-first into bed.

“Summer break starts today,” he groaned into the pillow. “Which means no school… no work… just sleep. Finally... the life I want.”

He closed his eyes, ready to sink into long-awaited rest.

But the silence broke.

A low hum. A strange, unnatural vibration in the air. His eyes flew open, heart pounding.

Above his bed, a swirling portal hovered — black, red, and gold, like a wound in the fabric of reality. It pulsed with power. Familiar. Hated.

“No…” Kaito’s voice cracked, deeper, darker. “Not again. I’m not going back there.”

He threw himself out of bed, reaching for the door — but the force was too strong. A wind exploded outward as the portal expanded, drawing everything toward it. Papers fluttered through the air like feathers. Books tumbled. Curtains twisted.

“Whoever’s doing this… whoever opened that damned gate again…”

His feet left the floor, drawn upward, body twisting violently toward the vortex.

“You’ll pay with your life.”

And then he was gone.

The portal snapped shut with a sharp crack. Silence returned. The papers settled slowly onto the floor. A breeze passed through the half-open window.

But the boy was no longer there.

The scent of melted wax hung in the air.

When Kaito Minazuki opened his eyes, the soft flicker of candlelight danced across towering marble pillars and gold-inlaid floors. The vast hall he stood in stretched high above his head, illuminated by hundreds of suspended chandeliers. Murals of angels and warriors painted a ceiling that loomed like the heavens had cracked open. Latin-like prayers echoed faintly from the stone walls — as if the place itself were whispering secrets.

Kaito blinked once. Twice.

He was no longer in his bed.

A low breath slipped from his lips as his mind settled.

> “Back here… again.”

His gaze moved forward. Around him, eight other figures stood in a loose circle — confused, frightened, and awkward in their modern clothes. Teenagers and young adults from Earth, all summoned without warning. They glanced around at the strange world like tourists dumped into a fantasy novel without a map.

Then came the voice. Soft. Graceful.

> “Thank you, brave souls, for answering our call. You are the heroes of this era, and we are eternally grateful for your arrival.”

A woman stepped forward from behind a curtain of light. She was dressed in layered white and silver robes, embroidered with feathers and golden suns. Her long blonde hair shimmered, her violet eyes serene yet full of sadness.

Kaito didn’t listen.

He had already started laughing — quietly, under his breath.

> “So this is how it begins again. The same hall. The same candles. The same prayers. I didn’t think they’d be so foolish… as to summon the one who once burned their world to ash.”

Before he could speak, one of the other summoned heroes — a tall, muscular blonde boy with sharp blue eyes and a voice full of bravado — stepped forward.

> “Excuse me! What do you mean by ‘heroes’?” he said, irritation rising. “Who are you even?”

The woman bowed her head slightly. “Pardon my mistake. I should introduce myself first. I am the Holy Maiden of the Church of Light, Freya Lumielle.”

The group murmured, trying to process the situation. But Kaito tilted his head slightly, a wry grin forming on his face.

> “Holy Maiden, hmm?” he said aloud, his voice calm yet coated in challenge. “I didn’t think someone outside the Grand Archive Priesthood could pull off a cross-dimensional summoning. Curious. What makes you so special?”

The room fell silent.

All eyes turned to him.

Kaito stood with hands tucked in his pockets, posture relaxed, like he’d done this a hundred times before — because he had. His school uniform felt strangely out of place among the robes and armor, but somehow, he carried it like royal attire.

Freya’s breath caught. “Y-you speak as if you know how this works…”

Kaito stepped forward slowly, each footstep echoing through the stone hall. He moved with lazy grace, like a predator with no need to rush.

> “Of course I do,” he murmured. “I think I’ve been here far longer than any of you realize.”

He stopped just inches from Freya, his face so close she could feel his breath.

> “You really don’t remember me?” he asked softly, smiling now — not kindly, but knowingly.

Kaito smiled slyly, his voice a velvet whisper laced with mischief.

"Did everyone forget about your beloved demon lord, Dormoto Uraska?"

He pulled his face back, eyes narrowing as he muttered with a smirk,

"It’s been ages since I’ve said that name out loud... Never thought I’d need to resurrect it just for a dramatic entrance. But hey—tradition’s tradition."

Gasps erupted around the room.

Freya’s eyes went wide in horror. Her knees gave out. She crumpled to the ground, mouth trembling.

“No… No… this can’t be. Dormoto Uraska. He’s… he’s back… Humanity… humanity is finished…”

The soldiers stationed along the walls reached for their weapons, metal ringing through the candle-lit tension.

One of the summoned heroes — the largest of them, a muscular martial artist named Rin Aisaka — surged forward with righteous fury.

He grabbed Kaito’s collar and pulled him close.

> “Are you insane!? We’re supposed to be saving this world, not terrifying everyone in it!”

Kaito stared at the hand on his coat.

Then sighed.

> “Ah, the brave one. There’s always one in every batch.” He raised an eyebrow. “But did you just touch me with your filthy, mortal hands?”

With a flick of his fingers, an invisible force exploded outward. Rin was blasted off his feet, soaring through the air like a ragdoll before crashing into a pillar. The impact echoed like thunder. The other heroes ran to check on him, shouting his name.

Kaito adjusted his collar and yawned.

> “You should be more careful. I’m technically retired, but my instincts are… twitchy.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked toward the grand staircase that led out of the summoning hall.

Behind him, whispers turned into panic. Freya fainted. Soldiers moved in — and then stopped. None dared follow him.

---

Meanwhile, in the Royal Palace

Guards burst into the throne room, armor clanking, sweat pouring down their faces.

King Alfor Dagonhart, dressed in red velvet robes with a golden crown resting heavily on his brow, sat up from his throne.

> “Report,” he demanded.

The guard dropped to one knee, trembling.

> “Your Majesty… the summoning was a success. The Holy Maiden has brought forth eight heroes.”

The king’s eyes narrowed. “Then why do you look as if death itself chased you here?”

The guard’s voice broke. “Because… because she also summoned him.”

Alfor leaned forward, tension rising in his chest. “Speak clearly.”

The guard slammed his forehead to the floor.

> “Dormoto Uraska… has returned.”

The hall fell silent. The nobles stared at each other, color draining from their faces.

The king rose slowly. “If this is a lie, soldier, it will cost you your head.”

But before the guard could answer, the sound of boots striking marble echoed from the corridor.

Tap… Tap… Tap…

The sound grew louder.

Closer.

Heavier.

Every breath in the room froze. The guards turned to the massive doors just as their hinges creaked open — and there, silhouetted in golden morning light, stood a boy with tousled black hair and eyes that glowed faintly red beneath the shadows.

He smiled.

Casually. Dangerously.

And the hall, once filled with light, felt cold all over again.

The throne room of Cavlar Kingdom was vast — a cathedral-sized chamber of shimmering obsidian floors and sky-high stained-glass windows that painted fractured rainbows on polished marble. Ornate pillars lined the walls like silent guardians, and the golden throne atop the stairs gleamed with uncomfortable authority.

The massive double doors groaned open, and the heavy echo of footsteps broke the stillness.

Klak. Klak. Klak.

Kaito Minazuki — or rather, Dormoto Uraska reborn — stepped casually into the chamber like a man returning from vacation, hands in his pockets, face wearing the calm indifference of a god who no longer cared about being worshipped.

He looked directly at the aging king who sat on the throne.

> “Ohhh… Alfor,” Kaito said, stretching the vowels like he was talking to an old friend. “You look so… old. And thin. The stress really got to you, huh?”

The king’s eyes widened with dread. He immediately rose from his throne and stepped down, bowing his head low enough to nearly kiss the floor.

> “M-Master Dormoto…” His voice cracked. “You look… different. What happened to you?”

Kaito stopped at the foot of the stairs, tilting his head slightly, a glint of mischief in his crimson eyes.

> “Call me Kaito Minazuki now. Or just Kaito. I went on… let’s call it a vacation. A peaceful world. My form changed.” He flicked dust off his sleeve with dramatic flair. “Less dramatic, less horns, more... high school student.”

The king hesitated. “Your clothing, Master… it is unlike anything I’ve seen.”

Kaito didn’t answer immediately. He simply brushed past the king, ascended the steps, and dropped into the throne with a soft thud, legs crossed, arms resting lazily on the armrests like he owned the place — which, technically, he once did.

He leaned forward, his tone cold and sharp.

> “Are you questioning me, Alfor?”

The king’s eyes widened in panic. He dropped to his knees in front of the throne, head bowed so low it almost scraped the floor.

> “Forgive me, Master! I meant no offense. I would never mock you!”

Then, from the far end of the room, a girl’s voice rang out — bold and defiant.

> “What are you doing, Dad?! You’re the king! Get off your knees!”

Gasps rippled through the nobles.

A girl stepped forward from the gathered crowd. She wore a sapphire-blue dress that shimmered like starlight, her golden hair woven into an elegant braid that curled over her shoulder. Her eyes burned with the fire of royalty.

She strode straight toward the throne, heels clicking like gunfire on marble.

> “How dare you threaten my father! You barge in like you own this kingdom and—”

Before she could finish, her father sprang up and covered her mouth with his hand.

> “Please forgive her, Master,” the king said with a tight smile. “She doesn’t know who you are. She’s… spirited.”

Kaito, surprisingly, chuckled.

He rose from the throne, descending slowly toward them, the candlelight casting long shadows behind him.

He crouched before the girl, eyes scanning her face with quiet interest. She stared back, unflinching, proud.

> “What’s your name, young one?” he asked gently.

> “Seraphina Dagonhart,” she said without hesitation. “Princess of the Cavlar Kingdom.”

Kaito smiled, not unkindly. “Seraphina… you’re him. The fire in your eyes — it’s the same he had when he tried to stab me with a spoon as a child.”

The nobles winced.

The king coughed in embarrassment.

Kaito stood and brushed off his jacket. “Good. You’ll make a terrifying queen someday. Now go stand beside your father — you’ve earned it.”

Seraphina hesitated, but after a nod from her father, she stepped back and took her place beside the throne, eyes never leaving Kaito.

Just then, the grand chamber doors creaked again.

The other seven summoned heroes, still confused and wide-eyed, entered the throne room. Some looked like they were still processing the fact they weren’t on Earth anymore. Rin Aisaka walked with a limp, rubbing his sore back from his earlier "introduction" with Kaito’s magic.

Kaito glanced at the king.

> “So, tell me — what should I call you now? Majesty? Your Highness? Or just Alfor, the panicked?”

The king swallowed. “You… may call me anything you wish, Master.”

Kaito nodded. “Then ‘King’ is fine. Simple. Regal. I like it.”

He sat on the edge of the throne’s steps and looked out over the newcomers — eight young people from another world, staring at him like he was a glitch in the prophecy.

> “Now, King… Tell me everything,” Kaito said, his voice smooth but cold. “Why summon heroes again? Why was a single holy maiden allowed to open a gate from another world?”

The king looked uncomfortable, but before he could answer, a trembling soldier stepped forward and spoke instead.

> “Your Majesty… th-these are the heroes. All of them were brought forth through the summoning ritual by Lady Freya.”

The kingdom still trembled beneath Dormoto's lingering presence—his name alone sent a chill through the throne hall.

The King’s gaze darted to Kaito, silent and urgent.

Kaito gave a single nod—subtle, sharp, absolute.

That was all the signal he needed.

The King stepped forward, spine straight, voice rising with practiced grace.

> “To all the summoned ones: I am Alfor Dagonhart, King of Cavlar. On behalf of our broken world, I offer my deepest gratitude. Humanity has fallen to its knees, scattered and enslaved by the races who once suffered under our rule. But we dream of rising again. Of reclaiming peace and dignity. And for that, we need you — our heroes.”

A long silence followed.

The heroes shifted, still unsure of what to make of the speech — or the terrifying guy who just threw one of them across a hall and then casually took the throne.

Kaiya Tanaka whispered to Rin, “Is he… always like this?”

Rin winced. “I don’t know, but he sits on that throne like he built it.”

James Carter mumbled, “I’m getting final boss vibes. Can we trade worlds?”

Diego muttered, “I thought this was gonna be like a light novel… this is dark novel territory, man.”

Mila Vostrikov just folded her arms. “He’s either the worst enemy or the strongest ally.”

Leo Kingsley, hands still clenched, glared at Kaito. “Whatever he is… I don’t trust him.”

Meanwhile, Kaito tapped his chin, watching them all.

> “Interesting batch this time,” he said aloud. “This might be fun after all.”

Then he grinned — wide, wicked, and amused.

“Let the game begin.”