What should I do now?
The damn screen wasn't going to budge, and Asher doubted it would anytime soon. Nevertheless, he wasn't exactly enthralled by the idea of the alternative either.
To him, it all felt like some grand scheme, something orchestrated by an entity operating on a far larger scale than he could comprehend. Of course, a part of that suspicion was born from something far more mundane.
Paranoia.
And cowardice.
Yeah, both of which had been carefully cultivated over the years, reinforced by his habit of reading fantasy novels, an odd indulgence for someone of his financial stature.
Paper itself was a luxury in his world, one he could rarely afford without guilt.
Yet he read anyway, scavenging worn pages, borrowed copies, and second hand prints, immersing himself in stories of systems, gods, and cruel bargains.
In a world already plagued by Wraiths and other nameless horrors, believing that nothing was ever given freely wasn't pessimism, it was survival.
After a long while of considerable thought, reasoning, hesitation, and even a few half-baked philosophical takes on stoicism meant to reinforce his resolve, at least theoretically, Asher finally sighed in resignation.
Step, step, step, and a step more…Gotta leave the past me suffering alone.Truly devious.
He thought to himself.
Then, he agreed.
"…Yes, I do."
He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the worst, betrayal, pain, some hidden catch snapping shut around him.
Yet what followed did not align with that trail of expectations at all.
Instead, what greeted him… was a voice.
"Welcome, legitimate ones…"
Even before Asher could fully register what had transpired, a feminine voice echoed in his ears, melodious, smooth, carrying an authority that felt undeniable.
He turned groggily toward the source, though his vision remained blurred around the edges.
A quiet curse slipped past his lips as he shook his head, trying to force clarity back into his senses.
Then he saw her.
A beauty stood before him, long platinum hair cascading down her back like spun silver, crimson eyes deep and vivid, comparable to fresh blood beneath moonlight.
She wore a spotless, regal black dress, laced with intricate designs that seemed to shift subtly when viewed from the corner of his eye.
Beside her stood several figures clad in black, their forms obscured, bodies swaying almost imperceptibly, as if breathing in unison with the space itself.
"I know it's hard for you to understand anything right now," the woman continued, her voice gentle, "but please forgive our intrusion and coo—-"
"Huh?"
She froze mid-sentence.
Her eyes widened, and the captivating smile she had worn faltered, twisting into something faintly awkward, almost… uncertain.
Asher blinked.
'Is it me?' he wondered, following the line of her gaze.
He looked around hastily, half-expecting someone, or something, else to be standing behind him.
Only then did Asher notice them, five others standing nearby, two boys and three girls, all roughly around his age, frozen in place with mouths slightly agape, their gazes darting back and forth between him and the woman as the same shock settled over them simultaneously.
"W-w-what in the world just happened right now? It can't be true. R-right?"
the young woman yelped, turning sharply to one of the nearby cloaked figures. The figure offered no reassurance, remaining silent and still.
Despite that, Asher suspected the cause of her unexplainable reaction had to be someone among them, someone who had become unexpected trouble.
I look kind of shady and out of place, and I came here through a portal too. It has to be me.
He reassured himself once more, glancing around the vicinity, caring little for the growing commotion before him.
Apparently, he stood within a gargantuan hall carved from andesite, vast and largely empty.
He liked empty spaces very much.
Chandeliers hung at measured intervals above, their placement deliberate.
Asher instantly recognized the pattern, back home, they used it too, minimal light, just enough so no corner was truly swallowed by darkness, yet never so much that a single ray was wasted.
Below him was perhaps the thing that truly caught his attention.
A circular array of intricate patterns, rendered in a ghostly green hue, was etched into the floor, interlocking runes and sigils spiraling outward beneath his feet, faintly pulsing as though alive.
Asher realized something then and lifted his gaze toward the young woman once again.
"I-it's five people, right? …W-wouldn't that mean that… that one of them was w-wrongly summoned, potentially c-caught up in the summoning?"
"It seems to be the case… my lady. What's the probability, though?" another cloaked figure replied, his voice sharp, almost unpleasant.
'Summoning… uh… caught up? …the circle,' Asher thought to himself, piecing together the fragments he had gathered, half from quiet observation, the rest from their exchange.
Nonetheless, a knot tightened in his chest. He had a bad feeling about this.
Asher had read many novels, worlds where soul essence did not exist and survival hinged on wit alone, or realms governed by mana as the fundamental energy.
This situation felt uncomfortably familiar, like the opening of one such story, the kind that began with a protagonist dragged into another world as a so-called hero, groomed to slay a dark lord without ever knowing why, hatred carefully planted by those who summoned him.
Asher despised those characters. He hated characters who listened to only one side of the tale and called it justice.
Although there were many different kinds of developments in those stories, they all shared the same unease.
There were heroes who turned sinister, those betrayed by the royal family they were meant to serve, and the most infamous of them all, cases where people other than the hero were caught up in the summoning and promptly branded as trash, discarded for possessing useless techniques or none at all.
Asher was almost certain now, after hearing the young woman speak, that he was the sixth wheel here. That last development made the situation far more frightening than he wanted to admit.
'I need to prepare an escape route before things go south… I don't feel like I've gotten any skills at all,' Asher reassured himself, flicking his gaze across the hall in search of the portal he must had arrived through.
He couldn't find it.
'Damn it.'