The Dark Lord was the Hero Summoned. What a twist. Was he angry about it? Or did he laugh at the irony? Imagine the scene: he's sitting on a makeshift throne in the middle of a war field, surrounded by demonic generals, and suddenly - bam - he appears out of nowhere in such a hall, hearing a 'Greetings, Hero!' from some old man with a shiny staff. If it weren't tragic, it would be comical.
Anyway... now it was up to us, the poor people who had been summoned, to sort out this cosmic mess. The logic, according to the books and anime, was simple: a new Hero appears, confronts the Dark Lord, saves the world and lives happily ever after - or dies dramatically in the process. In this case, me. Or Mika. Or anyone here.
But you know what? To hell with that.
Let them fight. Let them die. I don't care. I don't want to go home. In fact, I don't even know if I have a home to go back to. But I don't want to fight for these people either, or for their glorious war or their 'balance of the world'. I just want to live. To eat well, to sleep with a roof over my head and, who knows, to understand what the hell happened to my memory.
But I'm not an idiot. You can't just say 'no' in a world where magic exists and armies have wizards and knights in shining armor. What if this is like a certain former superpower, like the USSR? With their barrier detachments? The ones that killed their own soldiers if they retreated? I can easily imagine:
(What? You don't want to fight? Hmm... then let's put a magic collar around your neck to make sure you stay on our side, shall we? Nothing personal, Hero).
No. It's best to smile, pretend, nod.
The old man stepped forward, raising his arms in a gesture that was more like a stage actor than a wise summoner of heroes.
"Please help us win this war!" his voice echoed in the hall. "We'll teach you everything you need to know. In just one month, you will have enough power to surpass any master - or even become a master of the sword! For the Goddess, in her mercy, has granted each of you an extraordinary talent for development."
Of course. In a month. Surpass any master. How convenient. It sounds like an advertisement for a gym supplement: "Become a legend in thirty days!"
But nobody laughed. Nobody but me. And even my laughter was swallowed up by the dense silence that settled between us. Everyone was paying attention to the old man. His promises. His comfortable lies.
Mika was still holding my hand. And as much as I made fun of the situation in my head, something told me that this "game" we were about to play had cruel rules... and even worse punishments.
The crowd began to stir. Whispers turned into whispers, and then someone shouted in the middle of the confusion:
"And after that? Are you going to return our memories and send us home?"
The question hung in the air like a sharp arrow. For a moment, the old man hesitated - an almost imperceptible flash of confusion crossed his wrinkled face. But, like an experienced actor, he pulled himself together too quickly for someone who was innocent.
"Of course, of course," he said with a smile that was too reassuring to be honest. "After the mission, you'll be rewarded and sent back to your world. Immortality is worth the risk, don't you think?"
"Immortality," he said. As if it were an end-of-year promotion. Buy an interdimensional trauma pack and get a free eternity. A gift from the house. Thanks for being a hero, come back often.
What he said... was suspicious. Too suspicious. It wasn't just what he said, but how he said it - slowly, carefully, as if he was trying to hide more than reveal. And the more I thought about it, the more certain I became: there was something there that didn't add up.
Even so, most of the people around me nodded in approval. Of course they did. Many were still in their second year. Children, at heart. All with eyes shining as if they'd just won a ticket to the amusement park. To be a hero? To have superpowers? To be recognized, adored, to be somebody? It's the kind of dream that shines brighter than any rational concern.
Even Mika's eyes sparkled.
And she's in her last year with me. But sometimes she still has this childish side, this hope in her eyes, as if everything is going to work out just because she wants it to. Kind of cute... but in a dangerous way.
But that's okay. I'm not the kind of guy who destroys other people's dreams just because he's woken up from his own. If I started spitting out truths here, I'd become the villain of the bunch in no time. The annoying one. The cynic. Enemy number one of the chosen ones.
The old man and his knights spread out across the hall, bringing with them an object that soon became the center of attention: a crystal.
An absurdly beautiful crystal. It seemed to be pulsating, alive. I was almost envious. I wanted one of those. Maybe to hang around my neck or just stare at while the world goes up in flames.
One by one, the students were touched by the crystal. It glowed with more or less intensity - and I soon realized the pattern. The brighter it shone, the more excited the old man became. And on each hand a kind of mark appeared. A seal. Perhaps of control. Maybe just magical aesthetics. But I'm not an idiot. If these people really believed that everyone here was willing, they wouldn't need a mark at all.
Finally it was Mika's turn.
The knight approached, placed the crystal in her palm - and it exploded into light. Literally. I almost had to look away. It was as if she was holding a star in her hands.
The old man let out an audible sigh. For the first time, he seemed really surprised.
"The goddess has been very generous with you, young lady," he said, with that respectful tone that adults use when they discover that a child knows more than they do. "Your mana is five thousand, even at the first stage of the core. That's ten times the normal amount! Gift of the Goddess: 'Divine Regeneration'. And yet... advanced swordplay? Intermediate hand-to-hand combat?" he even frowned, as if he found it hard to believe. "Miss, at your age it's extremely rare to achieve this level of mastery with weapons. Honestly, congratulations."
Mika blinked a few times, processing the words as if they were in another language. Then she turned her head and looked at me.
Confused. A little scared. But also... happy?
I smiled at her. An encouraging smile. A sincere smile.