A man stepped forward. His face, marked by the passage of time, reflected a wisdom that only experience could bestow. His weary eyes spoke of a life weighed down by years of sacrifice.

Before him stood tens of thousands of soldiers, aligned with impeccable discipline. Their military-style uniforms bore the pride and exhaustion of those about to be recognized for their efforts. Behind them, hundreds of thousands of civilians gathered, eager to witness this momentous occasion.

The old man approached the podium. His gaze swept over the assembled soldiers, a mix of respect and solemnity in his expression. Then, with a voice that boomed like thunder, he commanded:

—At ease!

In unison, the soldiers relaxed their shoulders, maintaining formation. The echo of the order faded into the restrained murmur of the crowd, and the air grew heavy with anticipation.

The old man’s voice, solemn and resolute, rang out:

—For seven years, I have had the honor of witnessing these cadets grow into the driving force of the Holy Empire of the Sun.

He raised his index finger, pointing with determination:

—You, students of the illustrious Agnus Academy, the most prestigious military institution in our empire, the cradle of the great heroes who have shaped our history.

He paused, his gaze moving across the soldiers as if searching their faces for signs of future greatness:

—Among you, will another hero rise? Someone worthy of being immortalized on the walls of this esteemed academy?

A faint smile crossed his lips. With a proud gesture, he displayed the golden medal on his chest, a symbol of a legacy forged through sacrifice and valor.

—Each of you will become the shield that defends the empire and the sword that strikes against the monsters, the heretics, and the visitors from another world.

The soldiers let out a collective shout, firm and resolute, an echo of the oath they were prepared to uphold.

The old man smiled and raised his voice with authority:

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—Positions!

Instantly, the soldiers placed their right hand over their chest, forming a firm fist, while their left hand rested on their foreheads in a gesture of solemn respect. A charged silence settled over the air.

With the same energy, the old man began to recite, his voice resonating with the weight of tradition and fervor:

—Do you swear to protect the innocent?

A single resounding strike echoed as the soldiers pounded their chests in unison.

—Do you swear to safeguard this glorious empire, resplendent as the sun?

Strike.

—Do you swear to receive the emperor's grace with honor?

Strike.

—Do you swear to fight against the monsters, the heretics, and the beings from another world?

Strike.

The old man’s voice softened, taking on a reverent tone as he recited the final words:

—And most importantly, do you swear to protect the majesty of the Sun Goddess, to honor and love her for the rest of your lives?

Strike. Strike. Strike. Strike.

The sound of the blows was so precise it seemed to come not from thousands of individuals but from one giant, unified heart. The echo filled the air, a collective heartbeat that reverberated with strength, as if the spirit of the soldiers had come alive in that oath.

In that moment, as the soldiers smiled with uncontainable admiration, one figure stood apart. His face showed no joy, no anger, no admiration—no trace of any discernible emotion.

How could he feel any of it? He was one of the empire's greatest enemies.

A being from another world.

A reincarnated soul who had survived this world and every trial it had thrown at him.

Just one soldier among the thousands about to be cast into an eternal war.

The old man, wearing a smile of satisfaction, proclaimed with enthusiasm:

—Now, celebrate!

In unison, all the soldiers lowered their left hands and raised their graduation hats with their right. The crowd seemed to hold its breath, as though on the verge of erupting into cheers... but nothing happened. The soldiers froze, hats held high in solemn reverence.

The old man watched with pride, his gaze filled with approval.

A voice echoed in the young man’s mind:

"It’s just one of many tests. If anyone were to throw their hat, they’d be suspected of being a spirit from another world."

Slowly, the young man lowered his hat and placed it back on his head, his movements calculated and almost defiant.

"A trap designed to hunt parasites like me. Because you never know when a being from another world might possess your body."

The echo of his thoughts faded, and his face remained as cold and indifferent as ever.

—My name is Fritz, and I am a reincarnated soul in a world that despises outsiders like me.