Prologue

Shiro lived a quiet, average life. He was an office man, through and through. He woke up, worked, and went to bed, using the time between to spend on leisure. 

His life was boring, and if he stopped to think about how meaningless he had made his existence, he’d have a crisis.

So he didn’t. He embraced the monotony, accepted it, and lived by routine. For the past decade, he had lived by this creed. 

He’d been mugged, he handed over his cash. 

The train broke down, he walked the rest of his commute. 

He got promoted, he kept the same hours. 

A storm flooded his home, he got an apartment.

Nothing had gotten in the way of maintaining his routine, until now.

“Welcome, Great Heroes! We beseech you, please save our world!” 

Shiro rubbed at his bleary eyes, scratched at his ears, and tried to shake himself awake, but the sights and sounds around him remained the same. Shiro swept his hand at the strange rectangles in the corner of his vision, and surveyed his surroundings. 

He was in a hall, grander than any he had seen yet archaic in its design. It was large, the breadth and length of the room leaving him feeling small, like an ant. Despite its size, from the marble floor to the ornately decorated tapestries lining the walls, everything seemed to be richly crafted.

But idle awe could wait. For in front of him was a group of strange men, all dressed up in some sort of religious cosplay. At the front of the costumed strangers was an even more bizarrely dressed character, donned in a large, pointy hat, and his robes were far more ostentatious than the rest. He was also the one to speak, his voice disgustingly obsequious despite his apparent station. 

Around Shiro, there were others in a situation similar to his own, dressed in modern clothing of various formality. Some wore suits, like he did, others wore shorts and tank tops, and some even wore their pajamas. But what they all had in common was their confusion at their new surroundings, and and even more so at their strange welcome. But despite their confusion and - in some cases - outrage that Shiro noted, none spoke up. 

If they wouldn’t, Shiro would. He’d dealt with far worse while brokering deals than talking to some degenerate nerds. 

“Who are you? If this is a prank show, a lawsuit will be the least you can expect,” he stated sternly. He didn’t know how they’d orchestrated this whole event, especially when he lived alone, but no matter their backer, kidnapping and causing mental trauma were not claims anyone could just brush off.

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The cosplayers seemed shocked at his cold hostility, while their leader kept his genial, patient smile plastered on.

“Great Hero, I assure you that this is not a prank show, as you claim. You, and all the other Great Heroes were chosen by Fate to fight on our behalf.” His voice turned solemn but sympathetic. “It is a weighty and terrible duty, but you have been blessed with the magicks of our world, and with them, you shall prevail.” 

Shiro stood, flabbergasted by the man’s continuation of the farce, too shocked at the man’s audacity to feel anger. But Shiro rarely stayed shocked for long.

“Enough with this- this tomfoolery!” He stared at the apparent perpetrators of his kidnapping, willing them to cease. After several moments of them staring back with pitying eyes, Shiro sighed. “Fine. Let’s say we really, truly are in another world,” he began, reluctantly playing into their game if it meant they’d properly communicate. “Why the hell would we be willing to lift a finger to help you, our kidnappers?” His question was genuine, even if it was laced with indignant anger.  

The leader of the priests nodded understandingly while he smiled sadly. “Your- our enemy is not one that can be survived through avoidance. The world itself will be sucked dry such that no life but her malformed children can endure it. If not for our sake, then fight for your own, for this is not a war that can be ignored,” his words, despite their ridiculousness, were delivered with great gravitas. 

Shiro mulled over the man’s statement for a few moments, annoyed that he was forced to continue this delusion, before he changed his mindset. If they wanted to act like this was real, then he would too, and he was a far better speaker than some fatty in a robe. 

“This enemy is powerful, yes?” A cruel grin appeared on his face. “More powerful than you, or your ‘magicks?’” 

“Well, yes…” The man, for once, seemed uncertain at his words. Shiro’s smirk grew.

“Then why should we not petition this enemy, have them send us home?” Shiro turned, looking at and over his fellow kidnappees, seeing them all digest his proposal with varying levels of acceptance.

“Great Hero, please. You understand not what you speak of. This enemy suffers no dialogue, no compromise. To follow such a course is to throw your lives and our hopes away.” The man’s voice was desperate but stern as he pleaded with the group.

“Would they? We are their only chance of defeat.” The head priest’s features hardened as he saw the Heroes follow along with the other man’s words, and he knew that any words he could come up with would be drowned by their mob mentality, so he raised a hand in preparation. “I don’t imagine they will turn such an opportunity away.” A finger raised, pointed at Shiro. “So send us back home, or we will have your enemy do it for us.”

The head priest sighed in disappointment. “Richie was right, how vexing.” 

“I don’t care who Ri-” He swiped his finger.

Shiro’s vision suddenly blurred as one of the annoying little rectangles that plagued his sight started blinking rapidly. When his vision settled, the world had turned sideways, and he felt cold, very cold.

In the distance, he could see a man lacking a head slumping forward bonelessly, attired in a crisp, well-worn business suit.