Morning on Suisei arrived in gentle stages. The darkness lifted so gradually that Haruto Watanabe was almost uncertain whether he was awake at all. One moment, the garden’s towering rows of hinoki cypress loomed like silent sentinels; the next, a thin gray light revealed the dew shimmering on the grass. He took a step along that dew-soaked path, but felt no pressure from the ground. It was as though he were a ghost, floating through someone else’s dream. When he reached out to brush a branch, his hand slipped through needles and twigs as if they were nothing but moonbeams.

On his shoulder perched a tiny tsubame—a bird bright-eyed and mischievous. She leaned close and whispered, “Hey, Haruto. I take it you’re feeling a little unmoored? Like you’re about to wake up and realize your alarm’s been buzzing for half an hour?”

Haruto stayed silent, half from wonder and half from not knowing how to answer. The tsubame laughed, her voice like wind chimes in a summer breeze. “No dream this time,” she said. “You’re the first of the earth-born to cross into Suisei. And you and I? We’ll see all of it—its lands and seas, ancient mountains and hidden cities. But don’t get too excited about making yourself known. In this form, you can’t so much as knock over a teacup, nor will anyone here see or hear you. We’re specters in this world, you and I.”

They came then to a white marble stairway leading up to a broad terrace. The gate of the castle beyond was shut tight with iron bolts the width of a man’s thigh, but the tsubame fluttered her wings dismissively. “Don’t sweat the locked door. You and I, we’re intangible, remember?” And with that, they slipped straight through. Haruto noticed how everything in this fortress radiated a subtle aura, as though he could glimpse some shimmering detail not visible to normal eyes. He wondered if this was the famed system window he’d heard about in the stories—some hidden display that would reveal the levels and classes of those he might meet. If it existed, it stayed silent for now.

Inside, they emerged into a presence chamber so grand it could have rivaled any emperor’s throne room in Haruto’s old life. The walls were alabaster, traced with veins of tiny rubies and pink topaz that caught the earliest rays of sunlight. Columns lined either side, carved from white stone and crowned with monstrous visages cut from single, gleaming gems: a gargoyle rendered in honey-colored topaz, a scowling oni face in a chunk of velvet-dark sapphire. The ceiling soared overhead in mother-of-pearl, refracting morning light until it looked like the chamber itself glowed from within. Jewels hung in rows from the roof-beams: seven massive escarbuncles giving off a faint rose-colored luminescence, and nine moonstones on silver pedestals, shining in a pale hush. Meanwhile, the underside of a golden canopy at the far end depicted the twelve constellations of this world in diamonds. Haruto thought of the planetarium in Tokyo—only this was infinitely more wondrous, and centuries older.

When at last the sun’s first beams speared in from the eastern windows, the gloom of night fled to the corners. Servants—who, at first glance, looked startlingly human save for the horns sprouting from their hair—entered with brooms and cloths to clean. Haruto’s gaze darted to the tsubame. “Oni?” he asked softly.

She nodded. “Indeed. You’re on Onikawa now, and these are the proud Oni who rule here. But pay attention. They’ll be preparing for a big festival soon enough—birthday celebrations for one named Lord Jūsō, plus his brethren, Lord Homura and Lord Kinryu. By the way, in these parts, Oni earn their levels and skills through countless battles and proud deeds. Most of them are capable fighters—even the ones who look like simple servants.”

And as if on cue, a glowing prompt flickered in the corner of Haruto’s vision:

[Name: Oni Castle Servant] [Class: Castle Retainer (Lv 14)] [Skills: Polished Sweep (Rank C), Service Etiquette (Rank C)] [XP to Next Level: 1,200/1,700]

Haruto caught his breath. This was it: the famed system readouts he’d only imagined in half-lucid dreams. The numbers and words slid away into the periphery of his sight, but the realization lingered—there were rules here, an underlying game logic shaping every life.

Before long, guests began filling the chamber: powerful Oni warriors in rich kimonos or embroidered tunics, horns decorated with plumes of feathers. They carried swords or polearms that shone with menacing brilliance. A few Oni women circulated as well, each one so radiant that Haruto’s mind scrambled to compare them to the mythical beauties of his own world. In the swirl of color and chatter, Haruto noticed levels popping up over each new face. Some were formidable—he spied a [Lv 37 Oni Swordsman], a [Lv 42 Oni Huntress]. Others boasted epic classes he’d never heard of.

“Take a look near the door,” the tsubame said. “The burly one in the sea-green robes? That’s Lord Daisetsu (Lv 45 Naval General). He’s known for his cunning at sea. Served all of Onikawa valiantly in the last war against the Yurei.”

Haruto’s attention shifted to a square-jawed Oni with an easy smile. “What about the serious one, standing just behind him?” he asked.

“That’s Lord Tatsuo (Lv 46 Strategist). A bit wealthier than most, second only to the three great brothers we’re about to see—and Lord Daigo.”

Then another Oni stepped into view, greeting Daisetsu with a sly grin. He was lean, long-nosed, and looked to have endless swagger. The prompt above him read: [Lord Zeki (Lv 38 Beast Tamer)]. The tsubame flicked her wings. “He’s the famed horse-tamer, beloved among the Oni. Half comedic relief, half deadly warrior on the battlefield.”

That mention was cut short as the far curtain swayed open. Enter Lord Daigo (Lv 53 Sword Dancer) with a gait like a lazy cat that’d just woken from a dream. He wore a tunic of wild-rose silk embroidered with golden thunderbolts, his horns tinted saffron and filigreed with gold. On his belt hung a blade that flickered with an inner fire, its name—Haruto couldn’t read it fast enough, but it flashed like something out of legend. A swirl of system text scrolled by: [Daigo’s Crescent Edge (Epic Weapon: +30 AGI, +25 STR, Hidden Ability: Storm Waltz)]. There was a cold dignity in Daigo’s eyes, but also a flicker of restless energy.

“Is that…?” Haruto began.

The tsubame cut in with a little laugh. “Easy. You’re half-right to be impressed. That’s Lord Daigo. Some say he’s the third-greatest fighter in Suisei, right after Lord Kinryu and the old King Goritsu X. from Majokawa—though Daigo personally ended that Witch King’s tyranny in a duel nine years ago, so maybe he’s second-best now. Watch him closely, or you’ll miss something fantastic.”

At that moment, music bloomed from an unseen source—strings, flutes, drums, all weaving a haunting melody that drifted beneath the vaulting roof. The tapestry parted again, and in strode three Oni who each radiated enough presence to hush the entire hall. The tsubame hovered near Haruto’s ear and whispered breathlessly:

“In the center: that’s Lord Jūsō (Lv 55 Oni Warlord). Observe that olive-green cloak, rumored to be woven by celestial spirits. They say it grants good fortune as long as the wearer remains steadfast and fearless. Note that quiet confidence in his posture. He knows a little magic, but Oni believe in pure might over arcane arts, so he rarely uses it.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

She motioned to the second figure. “On Jūsō’s left stands Lord Homura (Lv 52 Flame Champion). Every bit as fierce as he looks. His eyes are sharper than drawn steel, and if you glimpse that faint glow in his breath, that’s his signature skill, Embersoul Fury.”

Her voice dropped in awe as her gaze locked onto the giant Oni flanking Jūsō’s right side. “That’s Lord Kinryu (Lv 56 Heartseeker). Legend claims no swordsman is stronger. See the two-handed blade on his back? That’s rumored to be an Elven-forged weapon from the dawn of time. He’s unstoppable in single combat.”

The grand ritual of greetings and ceremonial toasts followed. Great gems shaped like cups were filled with wine older than any mortal’s memory. The Oni toasted the day of Jūsō’s birth, with Homura and Kinryu at his side. Then, as was their custom, they would spend the day in hunts, sports, or friendly contests across the castle grounds—tests of skill to earn more XP and chase new achievements. But just as they were ready to disperse, a resounding trumpet blast cut the air.

Homura stiffened. “We have a visitor,” he said, glancing at Jūsō with a wry tilt of his brow. “Bet you my next level-up it’s a killjoy. No one blasts a horn like that for good news.”

Kinryu let out a low chuckle. “Could be the Witch King’s men from Majokawa. They like to claim they stand above us.” He flexed a broad shoulder. “Haven’t seen them do it up close since we crushed the Yurei.”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Jūsō said, his own voice smooth. “Bring them in. Might as well get it over with before we return to the day’s festivities.”

Servants hurried out and returned, announcing in respectful tones that an Ambassador from Majokawa had arrived. A hush settled over the guests, all eyes fixed on the wide silver doors. Jūsō took the central seat, carved in the likeness of a kirin wrought from black opal, while Kinryu and Homura claimed their own dazzling thrones to his right and left. Daigo and the others fanned out behind them, tension simmering in the air.

Presently, the Majokawa Ambassador appeared, cloaked in scarlet velvet lined with ermine, embroidered with motifs of crawling insects. He seemed small and pallid, arms far too long for his body. Haruto’s system readout flashed:

[Name: Ambassador Shigezane (Lv 20 Dark Envoy)] [Class: Majokawa Courtier] [Skills: Poison Tongue (Rank B), Diplomatic Shield (Rank B)] [XP to Next Level: 5,000/6,000]

The Ambassador paused a few strides away from the dais. The hush turned oppressive. Then, with a croak of a voice that carried surprising force, he declared, “I speak for the Great King Goritsu XI of Majokawa, Overlord of Buteny, Estremerine, Commander of Shulan, High Warden of—” He rattled off titles that made half the Oni roll their eyes. Finally, he drew breath. “His Majesty charges me to remind the lords of Onikawa that it has been far too long since they honored him as rightful ruler of these lands.”

A ripple of anger coursed through the crowd. Homura looked ready to surge from his seat. “He calls us a province?” he said, voice as sharp as a drawn blade. “That serpent dares? I’d like to see him set foot here in person and repeat that in front of my sword.”

Zeki leaned in from one of the side benches, smirking. “Easy, Lord Homura. Let’s not stain the marble with an ambassador’s blood, at least not until we hear the last of his nonsense.”

The Ambassador mustered more confidence in the face of these dangerous glares. “King Goritsu XI demands the lords of Onikawa come to his fortress at Kasei, kneel, and kiss his toe—”

A roar of disgust went up, silenced only by Kinryu’s booming laugh. “Kiss his toe? The old snake has jokes.”

Jūsō put up a hand. “Hold,” he said in a calm, clear voice. “Go on, Ambassador. Is there more?”

The little man offered a tight grimace. “That is the core of our king’s summons. Obey—and perhaps you spare yourself his retribution. Refuse, and he’s already mustered a fleet to cross the sea and remind you of his claim.”

No sooner had he spoken than Homura rose, eyes blazing. “Did you say retribution? Our ships alone finished off the Yurei menace. Majokawa’s fleet fled like cowards. If your king wants to test us, let him. I’ll personally carve open every last hull in his armada and line the harbors with their bones.”

Daigo placed a gentle hand on Homura’s arm, smiling in a lazy but lethal sort of way. “Let’s not skewer the messenger, cousin. Still, we owe him an answer. Quick and decisive.”

They withdrew to a side chamber, leaving the Ambassador to shift uneasily by the dais. Once in private, Homura spat, “We should sail at dawn with what ships remain. Surprise them in Kasei before they know we’re coming. Let’s see if Goritsu XI squeals for mercy when my flames scorch his palace walls.”

Jūsō shook his head. “That’s your unstoppable passion talking. You realize they have double our vessels. They’ll be on guard. No, we mustn’t be rash. But we also can’t sit on our heels.”

Kinryu arched a brow, leaning against the wall. “What about a challenge? Something that gives them no choice but to face us on equal footing.”

Jūsō’s eyes glinted. “Exactly. Let’s see how bold King Goritsu XI really is when challenged to single combat.”

Homura smirked. “He’d never agree to fight you with swords. He’s no fool.”

“I don’t plan to offer swords,” Kinryu said, fists flexing. “He’s famed for his wrestling. Brags about all the champions’ bones he’s collected. Let’s see if he can throw me. I’ll pit my Heartseeker skill against his grapples, and we’ll see who’s left breathing.”

A hush fell among them. Then Homura gave a clipped nod. “All right, I like it. We propose a duel—your wrestling against his. If he loses, he drops this farce about ruling Onikawa. If he wins, he can come try to press his claim… though even if he won, I doubt we’d roll out the welcome mat. Still, it keeps our honor intact.”

Jūsō looked to Daigo, who simply shrugged with a half-smile. “Count me in,” Daigo said. “If Goritsu wants to see real Oni might, let him measure it in the ring.”

When they filed back into the presence chamber, the Ambassador seemed to stiffen under their gazes. Jūsō took his seat once more, his voice echoing in the marble hall. “On behalf of all Onikawa, Lord Kinryu will speak our answer. You will deliver it in full, without any embroidery.”

Kinryu stepped forward, every inch the champion. “Tell King Goritsu XI we scorn his claim. The Oni remember his cowardice: how he abandoned us in the fight against the Yurei, letting us shed blood on behalf of all Suisei while his fleet crept away. Now, we offer him a duel. Let the matter rest on our might. I, Kinryu, challenge him to three falls of wrestling at the court of the Red Takuma, who stands neutral in this quarrel. If I prevail, he abandons his claim forever and leaves us in peace. If he wins, let him enjoy that victory and come test his fleet’s mettle against ours, if he dares.”

A scribe recorded every word on a scroll. The Oni lords sealed it with their signets. The Ambassador took it in trembling hands. “Foolish,” he managed at last, spitting the word. “King Goritsu XI has broken warriors mightier than you. He won’t show mercy. You’ll be the hundredth champion whose bones he keeps.”

Sparks seemed to dance in Homura’s eyes. He clenched his teeth, but Daigo’s touch on his shoulder kept him still. The Ambassador retreated a step, then nearly scrambled away down the hall, his attendants scuttling in tow. Outside, the Oni throng jeered and hurled insults, catcalling about his long, awkward gait and hidden tail. He flung himself onto his waiting ship at Mihara Bay, raising sails as though the hounds of all Onikawa snapped at his heels.

When the Ambassador’s vessel vanished into the horizon, the crowd in the castle’s courtyard began to disperse. Homura exhaled and said, “Well, that’s done. Now we wait for King Goritsu XI’s answer.”

Jūsō straightened. “Let’s get back to celebrating. We’ll handle Majokawa’s fury soon enough.”

Haruto hovered behind them, invisible, intangible, his mind aflame with questions. He watched the Oni lords—Jūsō, Homura, Kinryu, Daigo—each radiating an aura of power and confidence. The system’s text flickered at the edge of his vision, hinting at future developments. The festival would continue, sure, but Suisei had a dark horizon now, and Haruto could almost taste the tension on the wind. He had come here a stranger, a level-one Wanderer with nothing but the clothes on his back and an unknown destiny. But already, fate seemed to be drawing him into conflicts far beyond anything his old world could have conjured.

At his shoulder, the tsubame fluffed her feathers. “Looks like your real adventure starts now, Haruto. Ready?”

She laughed before he could answer, and the echo of that laughter accompanied them into a day that promised both celebration—and the distant drums of war.