Chapter 4

The shield hero's words sliced through the silence like a blade, his tone laced with a mix of incredulity and fascination. "Well, isn't this just like an RPG game," he interjected, a wry smile playing on his lips as he tapped the air where only he could see his health bar. Our collective jaws hung loose, slackened by the revelation that transformed our dire predicament into something eerily familiar.

"Or am I the only one that sees a health and mana bar at the bottom of my sight, or my level hovering over my name in the upper right hand of my vision?" His gaze swept across us, seeking confirmation.

I couldn't stifle the chuckle that bubbled up from my throat. "Awesome," I muttered under my breath, disbelief morphing into excitement. "We're the gamers of the story." A grin unfurled across my face, as we stumbled upon the greatest thing to ever grace video game addicts.

Beside me, the sword hero, Ren, was murmuring to himself, eyes distant. "Settings," he declared, almost as if invoking a magic spell. After a moment's pause, a glint of triumph flashed in his eyes. "It works," he announced, though what 'it' was remained his own mystery.

Emboldened by the discovery, we explored the extent of our newfound interface, each feature bolstering our confidence. It promised a fighting chance at survival, a sliver of control in a world that had offered none.

Stepping forward, I introduced myself, eager to ground this surreal experience. "My name is Chance, and I was born in California." The words felt foreign here, but necessary.

Their expressions twisted into confusion, mirroring my own when I first arrived. "California, where is that?" they asked almost in chorus, their voices tinged with curiosity and doubt.

"Have you ever heard of the Harry Potter series?" I tried another approach, searching for common ground in pop culture.

Shaking heads met my question, negating any hope of shared knowledge. We were strangers not just to each other, but to each other's worlds.

The sword hero broke the ensuing silence, his voice slicing through the uncertainty. "Ok, so we are all from different parallel worlds, does that sound right?" He leaned against his sword, considering the implications with a calm detachment.

"Yeah, that sounds about right," the shield hero affirmed, nodding thoughtfully as he stroked the rim of his shield.

Seeking to build camaraderie, I ventured, "Well, what are your names?" The meeting had been intended as a meet-and-greet, after all.

"Naofumi," he said simply, a firm resolve setting his shoulders as the shield hung loosely at his side.

The spear wielder sprang forward with a flourish, performing an elegant bow. "Motoyasu, a pleasure," he beamed, his enthusiasm undimmed by the situation.

"Ren," the sword hero added with an economy of emotion, yet the steel in his voice commanded respect.

Lastly, Itsuki stepped up, an irrepressible energy radiating from him. "Hey everyone, my name is Itsuki. Let's go and be heroes," he declared, his excitement infectious, as if he was ready to leap into the fray then and there.

With a collective rustle of weapons and cloth, we dispersed, each hero gravitating towards clusters of their followers standing near their hero's chests of gold. The echo of our footsteps filled the throne room, resounding beneath high arches and ornate tapestries.

"Inventory," I mutter, tearing my gaze from the others and looking at the gold laid at my feet. As if conjured by some unseen sorcerer, a translucent screen filled with empty boxes materialized before my eyes, hovering ethereally in the air.

The weight of the staff in my hand suddenly seemed insignificant compared to the gravity of what was unfolding. Bending down, I reached out tentatively and touched the cool metal rim of the chest brimming with coins. In that instant, the chest flickered like a candle flame caught in a gust and then vanished.

My breath hitched in my throat as I straightened up, but there it was on my inventory screen—a box now contained an image of the chest, its once tangible form reduced to pixels and data. The number of gold coins was tallied in a neat column on my character screen off to the side, digits increasing rapidly until they settled on a figure that made my head spin.

This was no ordinary wealth; it was a fortune that could change any man's fate. But what use was gold when we were battling for the very soul of this world? I felt a strange detachment watching the numbers climb—gold held little allure when weighed against the responsibility resting upon our shoulders.

"Remember," the king intoned, his voice booming with an authority that brooked no argument, "you have much to do, and not much time to do it." His eyes swept over us, an implicit challenge in their depths as he dismissed us.

"Chance," called a familiar voice, slicing through the din of shuffling feet and whispered strategies. I pivoted on my heel, finding Naofumi's concerned gaze locked onto mine. The Shield Hero had maneuvered through the crowd to reach me, his composure slightly ruffled.

"Want to group up with us for a little?" he asked, thumbing back at his own single follower. I caught the flash of annoyance flicker across his companion's face, the brief scowl suggesting they were less than thrilled by the prospect of an addition.

A chuckle bubbled up from within me, and I tilted my head, feigning contemplation. "Nah man, I don't want to be a third wheel," I replied with a grin, letting the humor glint in my eyes. My wink was conspiratorial, a silent acknowledgment of the absurdity of our situation and a promise of solidarity, despite my refusal.

I turned away, feeling the weight of destiny heavy on my shoulders, yet lightened by the camaraderie that had already begun to form among us—heroes of different worlds, now bound by a common quest.