Malt’s eyes slowly opened as he sat up from his bed. The bed in question was comfortable, not padded with straw but with feathers. In fact the entire room was quite luxurious. It was well furnished with skillfully made furniture and populated by vases of flowers. One of the walls was actually a large curtained window that looked down to the palace courtyard. In other words, a noble’s room.

Malt squinted, the thin curtains did little to block the morning’s pale light. He stretched his arms above his head, yawning. Letting out a loud groan, the corners of his mouth rested into a satisfied grin.

Ah fuck that wasn’t a dream. He buried his face into his pillow once again, groaning in embarrassment. He remembered the events of the previous day.

***

“... normal you say?”

The King rested his forehead onto his palm.

“... it seems there might’ve been a mistake, I’m afraid.”

This is bad. Really bad. What's gonna happen to me now? Malt looked back at the other three panicked. Instead of the reassuring looks he was looking for, they were all just as confused as the King.

The crowd had begun to murmer amongst themselves.

Suddenly, the King’s eyes widened and his mouth went agape once again. He stood from his throne. Unhesitantly, he fell to one knee, lowering his head and placing his right hand onto his chest.

Gasps echoed throughout the room. The sight of their King bowing before an otherworlder, which wasn’t even a true hero, was unheard of.

Malt was in shock. Flustered, he raised his hands in front of him.

“W-what are y-you doing your highness?”

Head still lowered, he spoke shamefully.

“I cannot apologize enough for what I have done. It seems that I have summoned a bystander to our world by accident.”

Panic, fear, and confusion flooded throughout Malt’s mind. But on top of it all, he realised that he felt lonely. The three people he could relate with were in another league than him now. No, rather they were on a whole different plane of existence. They’re paths would most likely diverge from here on out, them as the holy heroes and he as the average villager.

The nobles were whispering among themselves. Talk of how the fourth hero was a failure, or how the kingdom didn’t need another useless mouth to feed.

“If Malt is mistreated I’m out.”

Malt looked at Glenn in admiration and relief. To his surprise, Naomi and Erika nodded in agreement, locking their determined eyes with the King.

What am I worrying about. I feel kind of bad for categorizing them as stuck up goody-two-shoes now. Malt remembered his school days when he envied those three. Smart, attractive, charismatic, he thought it was all a front in order to be popular in class. I guess they’re genuinely good people too.

“Of course not, I am not so shameless as to punish someone for my own wrongdoing.”

He stood up from his bow, looking directly at Malt.

“You will be given first rate food, drink, and lodging for as long as you’d like. I will arrange for you a guest room right here in the palace. You will also be given an appropriate monetary compensation.”

He bowed his head slightly, raising his hand to his chest once again.

“I know that this is not nearly enough to atone for my foolishness, but I offer you my deepest apology.”

“E-eh? No its fine, you don’t need to go so far your highne-”

“No, I implore you. This is just my pride talking.”

Malt, having run out of options, sighed.

“I guess I’ll take you up on your offer then…”

“I thank you for indulging my foolish pride.”

Never thought a King would be giving me of all people such a genuine apology.

It makes sense now that I think about it. The other three are all exceptional in some way, but me… I can’t point out a single skill that I could call exceptional.

The mood slowly picked up once again as the people tried their best to forget about the disappointment that was the last heroe’s stats. The other three were celebrated as saviours sent by the gods themselves as chalices filled with expensive wine were brought out by servants.

Some bards began playing a lively tune. The gentle whistle of a flute, the pleasant strum of a lute. All mixed together with the sounds of cups clinking together and festive chatting.

The other three were being surrounded by nobles who all wanted to meet their future saviors. Naomi and Erika in particular were being flocked by young aristocrats and the sons of dukes alike.

But Malt stood in the corner of the hall, almost in a trance. The offer didn’t seem bad at all, the thought of being given such luxuries without needing to work was certainly appealing. But something felt wrong. His newfound friends would be going off, fighting for their lives to protect their country while he would be fattening himself in the palace with no where else to go.

By the time that Malt finished moping by himself, the party had calmed and nobles were beginning to excuse themselves from the hall. A servant had come to fetch Malt, bringing him where the other three were. They gave him hesitant smiles as he arrived, obviously worried.

He returned a slight smile of his own, but the disappointment couldn’t be completely hidden behind his facade.

As they were led out of the hall and into the vast corridors, Glenn finally addressed Malt.

“Hey… you alright?”

Malt forced his face into the same smile again,

“Mhm, I’m a bit disappointed by my stats, but it can’t be helped can it?”

Glenn and the others gave him reassuring smiles, nodding empathetically.

I know that they’re just being sincere, but this is getting kind of pitiful...

The servant leading stopped at a fork, turning to address the heroes.

“I apologize, but Sir Malt’s lodging is in the guest wing, I’m afraid.”

The others looked at Malt, worried.

“No no, it’s fine.”

He looked at the other three.

“Well, see you tomorrow.”

Glenn was the first to respond, albeit he sounded a little stunted.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow Malt.”

The four waved each other farewell as Malt was led separately into another part of the palace.

***

Malt groaned again, digging his face deeper into the amazingly fluffed pillow.

How’m I gonna face them today? But there's no choice, I haven’t eaten at all since I got here…

Suddenly he heard a knock at his door. Nearly falling off his bed, he scrambled to the door opening it.

A young maid stood at the doorway.

“Good morning Sir Malt, I have brought you clothing appropriate for this world.”

“Ah, thank you.”

He took the clothing graciously from her. He was still wearing his uniform after all. The clothing strangely looked vaguely similar to his uniform, but much higher quality.

After the maid closed the door to offer him some privacy, he looked into the long mirror hung at one side of the room. After shedding his school uniform, he began to put on his new attire.

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First, a dark brown pair of breeches fastened by a simple leather belt. Then a long collared dress shirt of the same color as the breeches. On top of the dress shirt was a grey suit jacket. After buttoning up the jacket, he tied a crimson necktie under his collar, tucking it under his jacket.

After roughly combing his hair with his fingers, he looked at the mirror, content.

“That should do it. I hope at least.”

Slipping his feet into a new pair of leather shoes, he opened the door again.

The maid, who hadn’t moved an inch, beckoned for Malt to follow her.

“Breakfast is served is being served right now, a dining room has been prepared for you and the heroes.”

At the mention of the other three, his heartbeat noticeably quickened.

As they reached the door to the dining room, he could hear sounds of laughing and chatting. The other three sat side by side at a dining table, leisurely eating together. They were almost the same thing as Malt, except their suit jacket was completely white with golden furnishings.

As Malt walked to the table, the other three finally noticed him. Glenn swallowed the food in his mouth, wiping his lips with a handkerchief. Malt took a seat across from them, which already had a plate in front of it.

“Morning Malt, sleep well?”

It seemed like the awkwardness from the previous night had subsided partially.

“Mhm, the guest room is a lot fancier than I thought. You?”

“Same here, I didn't think we’d get such quality lodging.”

Erika sighed, resting her elbow on the edge of the table,

“It’s so boring thoughhh. Wish they could’ve at least given us some entertainment.

“Really? The moment I got walked in I collapsed onto my bed.”

Naomi nodded in agreement.

“Sam here. Seems like that whole summoning thing took a good bit of energy from us. I don’t know if we’ll have enough energy to go through today’s training.”

Malt’s curiosity piqued.

“Did they tell you what kind of training that you were going to do?”

“Today’s more of a day to test our limits, or so they said. So basically we have to demonstrate our abilities.”

“I see.”

In between bites, Erika managed to slip out a question to Malt.

“Got any plans today Malt?”

“... no not really. Maybe I’ll look around the palace. Find something to do I guess.”

The food Malt was eating was leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. Not that it was low quality of course. Steamed and honeyed greens, perfectly seasoned cubes of pork, and a light bowl of wheat porridge. It should’ve tasted quite good actually. But he felt bad eating it. He’d done nothing to deserve this. He wasn’t contributing in any way. He felt like a glutton when in fact he wasn’t plump at all. He was actually on the thinner side.

They finished their meal with a little more idle chat before standing from their seats, satisfied.

“Well, we’ve got to head to the training grounds. We’ll see you around Malt.”

“Mhm, see you around. Don’t push yourself too hard y’hear?”

Glenn grinned a little,

“Of course not, you be safe too.”

And with that, they parted ways. Malt exited the dining room, full.

… what now? Malt genuinely didn’t know what to make of himself. What was he going to do to pass the time now? The idea that he might do this his entire life scared him.

Guess I’ll take a walk around the palace. Explore a bit, y’know?

He took off down the hallways with no set destination in particular. Wandering down the vast interconnecting halls, he saw everything. Rooms furnished with beautiful art, kitchens filled with overworked cooks, even the guards barracks, filled with dozens of wooden bunks. He entered countless rooms, saw plenty of novel sights, and practically traveled all throughout the palace’s many floors before realising that he was hopelessly lost.

He wandered and wandered until he heard a commotion outside. Looking through one of the many windows that lined the hallways, he could see many figures below in the courtyard.

After straining his eyes, he could recognize his classmates standing in front of a collection of straw targets, shaped vaguely in the same shape as people. They were all holding some kind of weapon, whether it be a sword or a staff. Dozens of spectators lined the sides, cheering on the heroes.

Naomi lowered her hips, entering a more stable stance.

Suddenly, she leapt forward, almost as if she was teleporting. It was like she was an experienced skater on ice, weaving between the targets until she reached the other side. She slid to a stop, sheathing her sword.

Malt stared in astonishment as the targets fell in half, each had been severed by a single clean slice.

Erika looked at her collection of dummies. She raised her wooden staff into the air with two hands before slamming the end of it into the ground. As if on cue, large spikes made of earth erupted from the ground, skewering multiple targets.

Next up was Glenn. He held his sword up in front of him with one hand, the other resting on the tang of the blade. The blade began to smoke, turning red hot.

A spark appeared from the blade, then another. More and more sparks formed until a cyclone of bright yellow particles were enveloping the blade. Suddenly, the sparks disappeared, replaced by a surging flame.

Fire seemed to be gushing out from the blade, casting flickering shadows everywhere. Malt could feel the heat even though he was multiple stories higher you than them. It was a wonder why Glenn wasn’t burning up.

He brought the sword back and swung it forward in a diagonal arc. The flames leapt of the blade and flew at incredible speeds to his group of targets. The targets and frankly everything around them were completely atomized, disintegrating into ash and blowing away in the wind.

Roaring cheers erupted from the bystanders.

Malt was taken back in awe inspired shock.

So this is magic huh? So our difference in power really is really huge...

After sitting there for a few minutes, reimagining the scene over and over in his mind, he continued on his way to try to find his way back to his room.

Lunch had already passed and dinner was currently being served, but he had no clue where he was. It was already dark in fact, but he was too shy to ask any of the servants for directions.

He kept walking around aimlessly until he realized that the twilight hours had already come. The lanterns in the hallways, presumably operated by magic, shut off perfectly in sync.

Malt was left to wander the halls in the night, his way illuminated with nothing but pale moonlight. The quiet was strangely calming to Malt. Strange enough as it is, this was probably the calmest he’d been since coming to this world.

As he was wandering past a particularly sturdy looking door, he heard muffled voices from within.

I’d hate to eavesdrop but… Malt ducked down, holding his ear to the oak door, fully intending to eavesdrop.

He heard two men discussing from within.

“Those damn Khods, they’ve been getting greedy since the demon hordes came.”

“They’re opportunists. I’d probably do the same if I were in their shoes. The southern borders’ been pushed back miles, it’s not an exaggeration to say that they’re only a few thousand yards away from invading us.”

“Vultures are what those lousy codpieces are. Trying to invade when we’re already fighting off the hordes, don’t they realise that if we fall they’ll be next in line to get their arses torn out?”

“Calm down Tors, cursing them out won’t do us any good.”

“It’ll do good for me. If I don’t let it all out I might just sock one of those pig-faced nobles in their oily faces.”

He heard what was presumably one of the men taking a swig of some drink, probably alcohol.

“... I can at least agree with you in that regard. This country’s nobles are much to afraid of the demons. Of course they’re a threat and all… but at this point Khodor is going to take us before those fiends will.”

“Ooh, s’been a while since I’ve seen you angry Symes. Usually so uptight with all that formal talk you do.”

“... I believe it’s called being decent. Anyhow, who wouldn’t be angry? The poor bastards at Dagridge keep have been fending off the entire Khodor invasion with only a few hundred men and minimal supplies. I heard it’s so bad that they’ve had to arm new recruits with hoes and picks.”

“No wonder no one wants to join. All the capable soldiers are joining the fight against the demons all the way across the country. You’re not gonna get any fame for slaughtering against some humans, but if you slay a magical beast, you’re suddenly a hero. Bullshit if you ask me. It’s much harder to kill a skilled swordsman than it is some hulking animal. We just need more men. At this point, we’ll take anyone that’ll be willing to join the south.”

Malt’s interest piqued. Nah I couldn’t cut it as a soldier… could I? I can’t kill anyone, but if I did become a soldier… I might be able to help out a bit right? Deep down, in a dark part of Malt’s psyche, he knew that this was his pride speaking. He felt so inadequate compared to his classmates that this desperate and dangerous idea sounded somewhat appealing to him.

“What’re ya sneaking around for hm?”

Malt physically recoiled away from the voice right behind him and despite himself, let out a short cry of surprise. Immediately, the two men talking outside bursted through the doors, startled by the noise. One of them lit a bright magical lantern, revealing the intruder.

Malt was on the floor, completely surrounded by four men wearing full sets of armor. Their swords were pointed to his throat.”

The drunk man from before, Tors probably, glared at Malt with unyielding eyes,

“Who are you and what were you doing eavesdropping on us.”

Malt was too intimidated to answer, partially because he was very aware that he’d intended to eavesdrop on them. His mouth opened and closed multiple times, but nothing came out.

After a few seconds, Tors seemed to recognize Malt’s face. His expression quickly turned into one that said are you kidding me? He sighed as the tension around him appeared to disappear. Sheathing his sword, he motioned to the other two soldiers.

“Look a little closer at his face. Doesn’t this lad remind you of someone?”

They stared intently at Malt’s features, trying to ascertain his identity. I feel like I’m gonna burst under pressure. This is a pretty shitty situation, isn’t it?

As they began to recognize him one by one, they both sheathed their swords, entering more relaxed stances.

The one that was most likely Symes grinned slightly,

“You’re that dud from the hero summoning aren’t you?”

Don’t rub it in please.

“Y-yes. My name is Malt.”

Tors crossed his arms, looking down at Malt.

“So. What were you doing eavesdropping on us?”

“... this is going to sound really fake, but I got lost. I was bored so I was listening in on your conversation.”

“Heh, sounds like we’re partly to blame for being so loud, Symes.”

Symes rolled his eyes,

“So how much did you hear?’

“Everything after you guys called the ‘Khods’ or whatever opportunists.”

The two soldiers looked at each other, worried. After having some kind of silent conversation with their eyes, Tors spoke up.

“Well, I guess there isn’t really any reason for you not to know. We’ll let you off this time, just don't go sneaking around anymore, y’hear?”

“Yes sir! Thanks for the leniency.”

Malt, relieved, stood up and turned the other direction, ready to bolt. But before he could, a hand grasped on his shoulder.

The third soldier, the one who had snuck up behind him earlier, stared at him with piercing eyes. His eyes seem to be boring into Malt’s mind, they seemed to see everything about him.

“Hmm… you want to join the southern front, don’t you?”

Malt’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth, but he couldn’t utter a denial.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Tors, sign this kid up. He’s leaving for the border tomorrow morning.”