The Summoned Hero

Kenshin's phone screen was blank. He kept pressing the power button, but the device wouldn't respond. No service, no time, nothing. It was as if his phone had been sucked into a black hole along with him. The silence from the device seemed to mock him, a reminder of how utterly cut off he was from the world he knew. Panic began to bubble up inside him, but he forced it down, focusing on the only person who might have answers—the man leading him through the winding corridors of this unfamiliar castle.

Malachar, the head mage, walked with an air of authority and a slight hunch in his back, his long robes trailing behind him. Kenshin tried to make sense of everything. The last few moments were a blur—a flash of light, strange chants, and then this... place. His mind raced, flickering through every possible explanation.

"Is this... is this an isekai situation?" Kenshin blurted out, his voice trembling slightly.

Malachar slowed his pace and glanced back at him, a mixture of pity and sadness in his eyes. "Indeed, you have been brought to another world, young one."

The truth struck Kenshin like a physical blow. His breath hitched, and for a moment, the walls seemed to close in on him. He wasn't just far from home—he was in a different world altogether. The sheer impossibility of it sent his thoughts spiraling.

"I'm away from Japan... no, away from the entire world," he thought, the reality of his situation sinking in. "I'm alone in a foreign land. So foreign that there's no way back."

A terrifying thought crossed his mind. "Is there a way to go back?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Malachar's face grew solemn, and he shook his head slowly. "I'm afraid there is no return."

Kenshin's stomach twisted into knots. The gravity of the situation hit him full force. No going back. The life he had known—his dreams of financial success, a quiet life, even the girl he had left asleep in his bed that morning—was gone. The thought stung, but there was no time to dwell on it. They had reached a set of large, ornate doors.

Malachar pushed the doors open, and they stepped into the throne room. The grandeur of the place was overwhelming, even for someone like Kenshin, who had seen countless historical videos and documentaries about feudal Japan, castles, and ancient relics. The throne itself was a marvel of craftsmanship—intricate carvings of mythical creatures intertwined with vines and flowers, all made from a wood so dark it almost looked black. Gold accents traced the outlines of the carvings, giving the throne an almost ethereal glow. To Kenshin's eyes, it was like something out of a movie—except this was real.

As they entered, the room fell silent. Nobles, dressed in fine silks and adorned with jewels, turned to face them. Every eye in the room was on Kenshin, and he could feel the weight of their stares. The king, an older man with a regal bearing, rose from his throne, prompting the entire court to stand with him.

"Great," Kenshin thought, his mind racing. "Do I bow? Kneel? What do I do?"

He remembered watching Game of Thrones—people in those medieval settings always bowed to royalty, right? With a deep breath, Kenshin bent at the waist, bowing to the king as a gesture of respect.

The king nodded in acknowledgment. "Hero," he said, his voice carrying a gravitas that demanded attention, "what is your name?"

"Kenshin Tanaka," he replied, standing upright.

The king's eyes studied him for a moment before he continued. "You have been summoned here for a grave purpose. Our kingdom, Brighthold, faces dire threats. We are on the brink of ruin—beset by economic crisis, civil unrest, and the looming threat of war with the kingdom of Celestera. You have been called to be our savior, to lead us through this dark time."

Kenshin listened carefully, taking in every word. The gravity of the situation was apparent, but all he could think was, "This is messed up. I'm no hero—I've never even been in a fight."

The king's gaze was intense, as if searching for something in Kenshin's soul. "So, hero," the king continued, "will you take up the mantle of our protector? Will you fight for Brighthold?"

Kenshin took a deep breath, his mind spinning with a thousand thoughts. "This is bad," he thought, "I need to find a way out of this. If they send me to the front lines, I'm dead."

Out loud, he said, "That's a grave problem you have, Your Majesty, but I must be honest—I am not a fighter." The words were met with shocked gasps and whispers among the courtiers. Kenshin could feel the tension rising in the room. "I need to steer this conversation," he thought, "or I'm screwed."

Drawing himself up, Kenshin spoke with as much confidence as he could muster. "Is the hero meant only to fight? Or is he to bring a new age to the kingdom?" He paused, letting his words sink in. "Your Majesty, I'm skilled in finance. If you provide me with the kingdom's financial reports, I can work to find a way to provide the money you need."

The room fell silent once more. The king studied Kenshin for a long moment before finally nodding. "Very well, Hero Kenshin. We are required to deliver the monetary support specified in the proclamation by the end of the third moon, which gives you three months' time. You have until then to deliver a solution."

Kenshin breathed a silent sigh of relief. "That's three months to figure something out," he thought. "I just bought myself some time."

The king continued, "I will assign a few courtiers to assist you in your work." He then turned his gaze to a striking figure standing near the edge of the room—a woman with a commanding presence and sharp eyes. "General Elara," the king called, and the woman stepped forward, bowing deeply. "You will be responsible for the hero's protection. Ensure that he is safe and able to carry out his duties."

Elara straightened, her expression serious. "Yes, Your Majesty," she replied, her voice strong and clear.

With that, the king nodded to Kenshin. "You have your task, Hero Kenshin. I trust you will not disappoint us."

As the king and his entourage left the throne room, Kenshin let out the breath he had been holding. He was alive, and he wasn't going to be thrown into a battlefield—at least not yet. But as the weight of his new responsibilities settled in, he knew that the real challenge had only just begun.

General Elara approached him, her piercing eyes taking him in. Kenshin couldn't help but notice her striking features—long, raven-black hair tied in a high ponytail, a strong, athletic build, and a face that was both beautiful and fierce. She was unlike any woman he had ever seen, and there was something in her gaze that made him feel both intrigued and wary.

"Hero Kenshin," she said, her tone formal but not unfriendly. "I am General Elara Varrick, daughter of Duke Varrick, commander of Brighthold's forces. I have been assigned to ensure your safety and to assist you in any way necessary."

Kenshin nodded, trying to keep his composure. "Thank you, General Elara. I appreciate your support."

Elara raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "You don't seem like the typical hero we were expecting. Not much of a fighter, are you?"

Kenshin chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, I'm more of a 'crunch the numbers' kind of guy. Fighting isn't exactly my strong suit."

Elara's smirk widened slightly. "Well, you're in good hands. I'll make sure no one drags you into a battlefield, at least not without a solid plan." She looked him up and down, assessing him. "But I suggest you start learning a thing or two about defending yourself. This world isn't exactly safe."

Kenshin nodded, a bit of his earlier confidence returning. "I'll keep that in mind."

As they left the throne room together, Kenshin couldn't help but feel a strange mix of relief and anxiety. He had managed to buy himself some time, but the pressure to deliver on his promises was already mounting. And with General Elara by his side, he knew he would have to stay sharp—both for his own survival and to navigate the complex world he had been thrust into.

But for now, he was alive, and he had a plan. It was a start.