Time didn't slow down.
But it stopped.
The creature's claws hovered in the air, frozen just short centímeters of my face. In the absolute silence, my heart forgot how to beat. My eyes drifted sideways, and that's when I saw him again—Hiroshi. Calm. Certain. He nodded once.
The world snapped back into motion.
A violent torrent of water slammed into the demon, ripping it away from me and smashing it against a distant wall. The shockwave drenched me completely, knocking the air from my lungs.
"You're welcome, Alex-chan."
Ayumi stood gracefully amid the destruction, smiling as if she hadn't just saved my life.
The battle resumed instantly.
"Alex, cover me!" Emi shouted.
I panicked. I didn't have flashy powers. I wasn't strong. I wasn't special.
But I did have one ability.
I discreetly activated it, focusing on Emi. Nothing dramatic happened—at least, nothing visible. Her movements became sharper, her magic brighter, her reflexes faster.
She didn't notice.
The demon did.
Its attack missed, giving Emi the opening she needed to finish it.
When the battle ended, no one paid attention to me. Hiroshi and Ayumi were called away by the queen. Emi thanked me like I'd done everything.
I just nodded.
That was fine.
Staying in the shadows was always safer.
Or at least, that's what I thought.
As we walked toward the next town, Emi smiled at me.
"I have a feeling this journey is going to be interesting," she said.
I am sighed.
For someone who didn't want to be the protagonist, trouble sure loved finding me.
---
FLASHBACK - Two Years Ago
A pounding headache. The nausea of an unwanted journey through... nothing. I open my eyes. I'm kneeling in an intricate chalk circle, alongside three others.
To my left, Ayumi. A girl with a tall, aristocratic bearing, her elite school uniform still impeccable. She holds her temple, disoriented, but her displeasure is evident.
To my right, Hiroshi. A serious face, hair black as jet, already analyzing the surroundings with a chilling coldness.
And in front of me, staggering but with eyes already sparkling with curiosity, Emi. My best friend. The girl who, while we were studying for our history exam, touched a strange medallion that "shone pretty" and brought us to... here?
We're in a majestic hall, with towering stained-glass windows. The symbols on the floor still smoke. It's not a hall. It's a summoning altar.
A woman with a platinum crown and a presence that crushes the air rises from her throne. It's the Queen. Her words echo in my dazed head:
"Heroes from another world. I have summoned you. Our kingdom is dying under the yoke of the Sephirah."
She shows an illusion: beings of angelic beauty, with wings of light and perfect faces. But then the image distorts, revealing their true nature: bio-androids of a nacreous, cold substance. She explains they turn their victims into obedient monsters, a plague that for five years has devoured borders.
"Your gods have granted you gifts for this task," says the Queen.
An orb of water dances over Ayumi's hand. She gives a superior smile. Hydrokinesis. Before Hiroshi, an ethereal hourglass spins. His expression darkens. Temporal Manipulation. A colossal, dangerous power.
And to Emi... the light from the stained-glass itself leans toward her, forming a small sun in her palm. Her laugh fills the hall. Photokinesis. "I see it! It's beautiful!" The Queen nods solemnly. The most versatile and powerful gift.
Then, Emi turns. She sees me, still half-dizzy and out of place. She grabs my arm and pulls me up, as if presenting an odd find.
"And for him?" she asks, nodding towards me. "What gift?"
A sepulchral silence. All eyes—the Queen's, the guards', the other heroes'—fix on me. The confusion is total.
"Who is this young man?" the Queen asks, frowning. "The ritual was for three. Only three."
All heads turn toward me. Hiroshi looks at me with pity, already imagining the reason for my presence. Ayumi with amusement. Emi with pure curiosity.
A deep sigh, the first of many, escapes my lips.
"Blame her," I say, pointing at Emi with my thumb. "She dragged me along. Literally. She grabbed the medallion and didn't let go of my sleeve."
A murmur runs through the hall. The Queen observes the rune of the summoning circle beneath my feet, which flickers erratically, as if defective. There's no gift for me. No god assigned me a mission. I'm a transmission error.
After a hurried consultation with her mages, the Queen approaches. There's no "gift" in her arsenal for an uninvited summon. Only, as compensation for the "inconvenience," they give me a support rune engraved on the back of my hand. They explain, almost apologetically, that it can slightly increase the capabilities of those around me. A support power. A reinforcement.
Next to the gifts of Ayumi, Hiroshi, and Emi, it sounds like a participation trophy. A power for the one who was left over.
And I wasn't wrong. The three were... amazing. In less than two months, they did what the royal army couldn't in five years: they swept away the Sephirah. They were a whirlwind of water, time, and light. My rune was only used on the first day, while they were still fumbling with their powers. Since then, it has lain inert. A tattooed reminder.
But Emi... Emi never left me behind. On every "mission" (which for her was an adventure), she'd drag me along. "Don't stay alone, Alex!" "Come on, it'll be fun!" And I, like a damned puppet, followed.
---
The remeber fades, leaving me back in the dusty square, with Emi's smile before me and the echo of the villagers' applause.
"Alex, seriously," she says, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "I don't know what I'd do without you. You're always there when I need you most."
The weight of her words is a slab. It's not her fault. She only sees a friend. She doesn't see the invisible thread that held her up today. She doesn't see the useless rune that suddenly wasn't.
I just want to live in peace. Why can't I disappear from all of this?
But as we head back, moving away from the cheers, a figure stands out at the edge of the forest, on a high cliff.
It's not a villager. It's a man in dark, simple clothes. He isn't celebrating. He isn't moving. He's just watching. And his eyes, sharp as daggers, aren't fixed on the triumphant heroine.
They are fixed on me.
A visceral shiver runs down my spine. It's not curiosity. It's recognition. It's as if he saw through the shadow, through the façade, and witnessed the exact moment my power flowed.
Who is he? How did he know? And what the hell does he want with a hero who doesn't want to be one?
Emi continues talking beside me, oblivious to everything. But I'm no longer listening. I only feel the gaze of that stranger weighing on me, a cold reminder:
Has my shadow, for the first time, been discovered?