Kazuya Shirou didn't believe in miracles. Or fate. Or second chances.
To him, life was just a slow, meaningless countdown to death. It is a collection of wasted days, a cycle of waking up past noon, surviving off instant noodles, and avoiding the outside world as much as possible. That was his existence, and he had long since made peace with it.
So when he opened his eyes to the suffocating scent of burning incense, the cold stone beneath his back, and the circle of hooded figures chanting in a language he didn't understand, his first thought wasn't shock or confusion.
It was an annoyance.
"What the hell…" His voice came out hoarse, throat dry. His limbs felt like lead, his head pounding as if he'd been hit by a truck. He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain lanced through his chest.
"Do not move." A deep voice echoed through the chamber. "The ritual is complete."
Kazuya's sluggish mind processed the words slowly. Ritual? What ritual? His gaze darted around the dimly lit room, eyes adjusting to the glow of flickering torches along the stone walls. The hooded figures loomed over him, their faces obscured by shadows. Their robes were dark red, soaked red as if dipped in blood.
A chill ran down his spine.
"Where am I?" His voice was stronger now, a thread of panic creeping in. "What the hell is this?"
The tallest figure stepped forward, lowering his hood to reveal a sharp, angular face. His eyes burned with something Kazuya could only describe as reverence. "You are the summoned hero," the man declared, " the savior of our world."
Kazuya blinked.
Then he laughed.
It was a short, bitter sound, echoing in the vast chamber. "Yeah, right. You've got the wrong guy."
The man did not react. "The gods have chosen you to rid this world of the great calamity. You must—"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Kazuya cut him off, struggling to push himself up despite the pain. "Listen, I don't know what kind of freaky cosplay cult this is, but I'm not interested. Just send me back home."
Silence.
The man's lips curled into something that might have been a smile, but there was no warmth in it. "I'm afraid that is not possible."
Kazuya's irritation was quickly turning to unease. "What do you mean 'not possible'? You dragged me here, didn't you?"
The man exhaled slowly as if speaking to a particularly dense child. "You were summoned through a sacred ritual. There is no return."
His stomach twisted. No return?
Before he could process the words, the other hooded figures moved. They parted like waves, revealing something—or rather, someone—behind them. A girl, bound in chains, her once white dress stained crimson. Her eyes, dull and lifeless, met his for a single second before a blade was driven through her chest.
Kazuya froze.
A sickening squelch. A gasp of pain. The girl collapsed, her body hitting the ground with a hollow thud. Blood pooled beneath her, soaking into the stone.
His breath hitched.
"What the—what the hell are you doing?!" He tried to move, but hands clamped down on his shoulders, holding him in place.
The man turned back to him, unfazed. "She was the previous hero. Her time has ended."
Kazuya's blood turned to ice.
The man knelt, dipping his fingers into the girl's still-warm blood before pressing them against Kazuya's forehead. A burning sensation erupted across his skin, and his vision blurred.
"The ritual is complete," the man whispered. "Welcome to your new life, Hero."
Pain exploded in his skull.
And then—
Darkness.
Pain.
It was the first thing Kazuya Shirou felt, searing through his skull like a white-hot knife. His body was heavy, his limbs unresponsive, and the scent of damp earth and fresh grass filled his nostrils. A cool breeze brushed against his skin, and the distant murmur of voices reached his ears.
** **
He forced his eyes open.
Above him stretched an endless sky, bright and blue, dotted with drifting clouds. Sunlight streamed through the swaying branches of towering trees, their leaves rustling in the wind.
He was lying on the side of a dirt road, his body aching as though he had been trampled by a bicycle. "Ouch..." he muttered, pushing himself up.
His clothes were different—simple, rough fabric, with a copper-looking coin in his pockets, nothing like the hoodie and sweatpants he was used to.
His fingers curled into the dirt beneath him. This wasn't home. This wasn't even close. Maybe he was drugged and sent to some deserted place, Kazuya thought, refusing to believe any of that cult business.
A sudden shout caught his attention.
"Oi! You there!!"
Kazuya turned toward the voice. A man in steel armor, bearing a sword at his waist, strode toward him. Behind him, a wooden cart creaked under the weight of sacks and barrels, led by a pair of weary horses.
Is this guy into cosplaying or something? If he is, he must be wealthy; that armor looks pretty pricey, but he does look retarded wearing it.
"You look lost," the man said, easily towering over me.
"What are you doing in a place like this?" he asked calmly, with a hint of suspicion.
"I...don't know..." Kazuya admitted. "Wh...Where am I?" Kazuya asked with a disorientated look. The man frowned. "You're on the outskirts of Eldora. Are you by any chance a peasant?"
A peasant? You have to be kidding me, peasant? Peasant?! Kazuya slowly got agitated but didn't let it show.
"Um... I'm not a peasant, and what is Eldora?" Kazuya asked in the nicest way he could, maybe he thinks I'm poor because of my dirty white T-shirt and jeans.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
For a brief moment, the man wore a surprised look before returning to his usual demeanor. "The Holy City of Eldora, under the rule of King Aldric Van Eldora, is blessed to have such a magnificent King!"
--
The "Knight" kept rambling about how wonderful this "King" was, providing no useful information and then hurriedly leaving me behind. Regardless, based on what I've gathered, I must face the truth... I must have been summoned to another world by those crazy cultists.
Just like in light novels, they referred to me as their "Hero," so I should possess some kind of special ability or something. I should have asked the knight for directions, but there's no use dwelling on it now.
For the moment, I'll just follow the road ahead. --After what felt like hours, I finally stumbled upon a quaint little town. The buildings had a distinctly medieval charm.
As I wandered through the streets, I noticed a bustling crowd, and to my surprise, I could comprehend their conversation, even though I struggled to read their language, which was frustrating.
Suddenly, I felt a slight tap in my pockets, and quickly turned around and saw a shadow rushing out of the crowds. Was someone messing with me? What the hell is going on? Kazuya instantly realized what happened... He was missing the copper coin that he didn't care for, but he still felt angry because he got pickpocketed. ...Damn that person!!!
Kazuya tightened his jaw and clenched his fists as he surveyed the crowd. It wasn't the coin that upset him; he hardly cared about it. What irked him was how easily he had been pickpocketed, leaving him with a bitter feeling. This world was treating him like a fool. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to take action. "Fine... whatever. It's just a coin," he muttered. He needed to concentrate on more pressing issues—like finding food, a place to stay, and figuring out how to survive here.
The town around him bustled with life. Wooden stalls lined the dirt streets, merchants shouting over one another to sell their goods—fresh produce, weapons, even strange glowing potions. The smell of roasted meat filled the air, making his stomach growl. He instinctively reached for his pockets, but of course, they were empty.
"Damn it…" he sighed.
A low grumble from his stomach reminded him of his hunger. He glanced around, spotting a bakery stall filled with fresh bread and pastries. The smell was intoxicating. His mouth watered. He had no money, but hunger gnawed at his insides like a ravenous beast.
His eyes darted around. The baker was busy talking to a customer, and his back turned. Just one loaf… just enough to keep himself from starving.
Without thinking, Kazuya reached out, his fingers brushing against a small loaf. He grabbed it and swiftly turned to walk away—
A rough hand seized his wrist.
"Oi! Thief!"
Kazuya's heart plummeted. The baker had moved faster than he expected, his grip ironclad. Before Kazuya could react, another set of hands grabbed him—a guard in heavy armor.
"Caught red-handed, huh?" the guard sneered, yanking Kazuya back. "We don't take kindly to thieves around here."
"I-I just—!" Kazuya stammered, but the guard didn't let him finish. A fist slammed into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He collapsed to his knees, gasping for air.
"Save your excuses," the guard muttered, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him through the streets. The crowd stared, some murmuring, others laughing at his misfortune.
Kazuya's mind raced. This wasn't happening. This wasn't real. It was just a piece of bread! He was starving!
The guard hauled him toward a familiar sight—a wooden stage.
His stomach twisted in horror.
A man stood bound at the center, his head forced down onto a chopping block. A second guard raised an executioner's axe high above his head.
Kazuya's breath caught in his throat.
The axe came down.
A sickening crunch filled the air. The head rolled across the wooden planks. The crowd erupted into cheers and gasps.
"No…" Kazuya whispered. "No, no, no—"
"Next thief!" the guard holding him barked.
Panic surged through Kazuya. He thrashed and tried to fight back, but the guards were stronger. They forced him forward, shoving him down onto the bloodstained block. The scent of iron filled his nostrils.
"Any last words?" the executioner asked, his voice devoid of emotion.
Kazuya's mind screamed. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was the protagonist, wasn't he?! Where was his power?! Where was his miracle?!
The axe came down.
Pain. Blinding, searing pain. Then—
Darkness.
Kazuya gasped. His eyes snapped open. He was lying on the dirt road again, his body aching as if he had been trampled. The scent of damp earth filled his nostrils.
The sky above stretched endlessly, bright and blue.
Pain.
It was the first thing he felt. Again.
His breath came in ragged gasps as realization dawned on him.
He was back.
Back to where he first woke up in this world.
He had died.
** **
Pain.
Kazuya gasped for air, his body convulsing as he felt the damp earth beneath him once again. The bright blue sky stretched endlessly above, the rustling of leaves whispering in the breeze. The same dirt road. The same aching limbs. The same nightmare.
"No… no, no, no, NO!"
He clutched his head, his mind racing. He had died. He had felt the cold steel of the axe. He had heard the sickening crunch as his skull split apart. And yet… here he was. Again.
His breath came in ragged gasps. This had to be a dream, right? A delusion? But the pain was real. The hunger in his gut was real. And worst of all, the dread creeping through his veins was real.
"No way… I…"
But before he could process it further, the voice called out again.
"Oi! You there!"
The armored man. The same knight from before. Kazuya turned toward him in horror, his mind a whirlpool of confusion. He had already lived this moment. Every detail played out the same. The wooden cart, the weary horses, the suspicious glare. The knight's words echoed like a haunting déjà vu.
He had returned.
He tried to stay calm, to answer the knight as normally as possible, but his voice shook.
"I… I don't know where I am."
The knight sighed, just like before. "The outskirts of Eldora. You lost, peasant?"
Peasant. The same insult. The same patronizing tone.
This is real, Kazuya thought, swallowing hard. This is happening.
A sickening realization set in. If he had truly returned, then… would it happen again?
His stomach twisted. He had to try something different. This time, he needed a plan.
The market square loomed before him once again, its chaotic noise pressing in from all sides. His stomach growled. He knew what was coming next. The hunger. The desperate need. The mistake.
He clenched his fists. No stealing. He would not make the same mistake twice.
He needed money. He needed a way to survive without ending up back at that cursed executioner's block. He approached a few merchants, trying to speak, to ask for help, but each one dismissed him. A few laughed in his face. Others ignored him entirely.
Hours passed. The hunger clawed at him like a beast. He had no choice.
His hand darted out, snatching a loaf of bread.
"Oi! Thief!"
His heart sank.
The grip on his wrist was just as strong as before. The same guards. The same beating. The same merciless crowd watched as he was dragged through the streets. He screamed this time, thrashed, and begged for mercy, but it didn't matter.
The axe came down.
Darkness.
Pain.
Bright blue sky.
The scent of damp earth.
Kazuya gasped, his fingers clawing into the dirt as he choked on a scream. He was back again. The knight's voice echoed behind him, unchanged.
"Oi! You there!"
"No…" His voice cracked. His body trembled violently. "No, no, no! Not again!"
He scrambled to his feet, sprinting in the opposite direction. He had to escape. He had to break the cycle. But where could he go? Where could he run when the entire world seemed to conspire against him?
He reached the town again. His stomach twisted with hunger.
He fought it. He refused to steal. He refused to get caught again. He searched desperately for another way—any way—to survive.
And yet, it always ended the same.
He was caught trying to work without a permit. He was accused of loitering in the wrong place. He was mistaken for a criminal and dragged to the execution block. He was trampled by a carriage while running away.
Each time, he learned something new. He tried different paths and spoke to different people, but nothing changed the result. The first few deaths had been pure terror. Now, they were becoming exhausting.
How many times had it been now? Five? Ten? A hundred? Time blurred together in an indistinguishable nightmare. No matter what he did or how he fought, he always ended up here. Back at the beginning. Back to where it all started.
Lying on the dirt road, staring up at the sky, knowing he would die again.
"…Somebody…"
Tears streamed down his face, his voice barely a whisper.
"Somebody… help me…"
Then, a shadow appeared before him, blocking out the sun. A delicate voice, soft yet tinged with amusement, reached his ears.
"You look pathetic."
Kazuya's eyes widened. Standing before him was a girl—long, flowing black hair cascading down her shoulders, striking crimson eyes filled with something unreadable. She was beautiful, but there was an edge to her presence, something sharp beneath the surface.
She resembled the girl in chains—but she wasn't her.
He blinked, his breath hitching.
"You… who are you?"
She smirked, kneeling beside him, resting her chin in her hand as she studied him like he was an interesting puzzle. "More importantly, who are you? And why do you look like you've just seen a ghost?"
His body trembled under her gaze. Was she real? Was she part of the cycle? Or… was she the key to escaping it?
Kazuya stared at her, his mind reeling, his heart pounding. For the first time since this nightmare began, he felt something new.
Hope. Or maybe… something far more dangerous.