My name is Kozuki, and I'll admit it—I'm the kind of guy who'd rather binge anime than brave the sunlight. But even a certified hermit has to eat. Hunger finally dragged me out of my apartment that day, my stomach growling louder than the final boss of a shounen arc. The fluorescent lights of the 11/7 buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow over rows of instant ramen and energy drinks. I'd just grabbed a basket when the door slammed open.
"EVERYONE GET ON THE FUCKING FLOOR!"
The voice didn't sound human. It was metallic, distorted—like a villain's dialogue filtered through a voice changer. Four figures in ski masks stormed in, gloved hands clutching pistols. Time froze. My knees hit the linoleum as two robbers swept their muzzles across the room, while the others ransacked the registers. Coins clattered, shelves emptied, and the air reeked of sweat and gun oil.
They were almost out. Almost.
Then it happened.
The old security guard—a shriveled guy who'd probably never thrown a punch in his life—lurched forward like a background character charging into a plot twist. He collided with the nearest robber, sending the man's mask skidding across the floor.
"This old son of a bitch—!"
The robber's face was… ordinary. Soft cheeks, a mole above his brow. Forgettable. That's what made it worse.
The gunstock cracked against the guard's skull. A wet thud. Then gunfire erupted.
"They saw my face," the unmasked robber muttered, almost apologetic. "Didn't wanna do this, but… kill 'em all."
Chaos. Screams. Bodies dropped like NPCs in a cutscene. I scrambled for the door, but a rifle butt smashed into my ribs. The last thing I saw was the barrel's black eye staring me down.
*Bang*.
Darkness clung to me like a second skin. No sound, no gravity—just the hollow absence of everything. Am I dead? The thought didn't panic me. After years of devouring isekai tropes, floating in a void felt… familiar. Like the pre-title screen of a new RPG.
Then, after an eternity (or ten seconds—time's a prankster here), her voice cut through the silence.
"You are qualified."
It wasn't booming or ethereal. Just… kind. The way a grandma might say, "You've passed the exam." A golden light erupted, burning away the void, and there she stood.
The goddess looked like a Studio Ghibli heroine aged into wisdom. Wrinkles framed her eyes like sunbeam cracks, and her gold hair cascaded down in braids woven with starlight. Her staff—tall as she was—thrummed with constellations trapped in its crystal. But her eyes… they were Arctic blue, the kind that'd freeze your secrets solid.
My chest tightened. This is it. The Truck-kun payoff.
"Am I getting isekai'd?" I blurted, louder than intended. "Hell yes! Do I get cheat skills? A harem? I've been ready since middle school—"
She raised a hand, and my voice died mid-fangasm.
"You are summoned to balance the universe," she said, her tone smooth but edged with fatigue, like she'd given this speech a thousand times. "The previous God of Death… retired abruptly. You will inherit their duties."
"Duties? Like grim reaper stuff? Cool. Do I get a scythe? A sweet cloak?"
A flicker of annoyance crossed her face. "You're *direct*, aren't you? No. You'll guide souls to their final rest and… *correct* imbalances." She paused, studying me. "But you're unprepared. Unworthy."
"Hey!"
"So you'll start from zero." She snapped her fingers.
A sword materialized—not in a flashy burst, but like it had always been there, waiting for me to notice. Its scabbard was obsidian edged in gold filigree, and a blood-red gem glowed where blade met hilt. The moment I touched it, the air hummed with a low, hungry frequency.
"The 'Sword of Absolute Death' " she said. "Its power is limitless—theoretically. But to you, right now? Well It's probably a fancy paperweight."
I unsheathed it. The blade wasn't metal. It was void—a shard of the abyss I'd floated in moments ago, devouring the light around it.
"What's it made of?" I whispered.
I was still marveling at the sword's otherworldly craftsmanship—the way the gemstone caught the light like a crystallized drop of blood, the obsidian scabbard cold and flawless as a black hole—when her voice sliced through my awe.
"Have you finished inspecting it?"
"Yeah, it's great," I said, running a thumb over the gem's unnervingly warm surface. "So how do I use it? Secret command? Blood ritual? Do I yell 'bankai' or something—"
"Figure it out yourself," the goddess muttered, too quiet for mortal ears. Probably.
"Pardon?"
She cleared her throat, suddenly regal again. "It is… your duty to uncover its secrets. Procrastinate no longer. Your path awaits."
Before I could protest, darkness swallowed me whole. When light returned, it wasn't the void's gold—this was green, dappled, alive. Sunlight filtered through a canopy of leaves wider than subway umbrellas, and the air smelled of damp moss and something sweetly floral. A normal forest? Sure, if normal forests had trees with bark that shimmered like fish scales.
"May you have the best of luck," echoed the goddess's voice, a chuckle clinging to the words like static.
I stared at the sword. The sword stared back, metaphorically.
"YOU OLD HAG!" I roared, voice scattering a flock of neon-blue birds. "I WAS PROMISED OVERPOWERED ABILITIES, NOT A GLORIFIED LETTER OPENER!"
Silence. Not even the insects hummed.
Grumbling, I slumped against a tree. Okay. Fine. So the goddess dumped me here with zero tutorial—classic hard-mode isekai. I unsheathed the blade again. The void-metal didn't reflect anything. Not the sunlight, not my face. It just… ate.
"Alright, Sword-sensei," I said. "If you're so 'absolute,' show me a sign. A spark? A creepy whisper? Anything."
Nothing.
The forest seemed normal enough—rustling leaves, chirping insects, sunlight pooling in dappled patches on the mossy ground. *Too* normal. Like the devs forgot to texture the boss arena.
I'd barely taken ten steps when a sound froze me mid-stride: a low, wet *crunch*, like a tree being uprooted by something with too many teeth.
"What the hell was that?" I whispered, pivoting toward the noise.
The underbrush exploded.
A lizard the size of a subway train lunged into the clearing, its scales glistening like oil-slicked armor. Fifteen meters of claws, fangs, and eyes that burned like dying suns. It didn't roar. It *hissed*, a sound that vibrated in my molars.
For a heartbeat, I stood paralyzed. Then survival instinct kicked in.
"OH SHIT, RUN!"
I bolted, sneakers skidding on damp leaves. The ground trembled as the beast charged, its breath hot on my neck.
"Why'd you drop me in a monster-infested hellforest?!" I screamed at the sky, half-expecting the goddess to laugh.
Something moved above me. A shadow dropped from the trees—a mountain of a man, bare-handed, landing like a meteor. He caught the lizard's jaw mid-lunge, muscles straining as he forced its snapping maw shut.
"Leader, now!" he grunted.
A second man leapt down, sword raised. The blade glowed crimson as he drove it into the lizard's eye. "Burn," he muttered.
Fire erupted. Not ordinary flames—this was liquid hellfire, devouring the beast in seconds. It writhed, screeching, but the first man held firm, his boots carving trenches in the soil.
When the flames died, the lizard collapsed, charred and twitching.
Two more figures emerged from the trees: a spearman with a scarred grin and a woman twirling a staff etched with glowing runes.
The group huddled around the lizard's smoldering corpse, their banter casual, almost lazy.
"Not fair," grumbled the spearman, kicking the beast's claw. "You hogged all the fun."
The swordsman shrugged. "It barely put up a fight."
"Enough whining," said the staff woman, crouching to inspect the carcass. "Let's harvest and go."
Mustering courage, I crept from behind the trees. Before I could speak, a spear hissed through the air, its tip kissing my throat.
"Who. Are. You." The spearman's voice was colder than the blade at my neck.
The swordsman stepped forward. "Stand down. He's the one the lizard was chasing."
"And that makes him innocent?"
"Look at him. He's practically a pup."
The spearman's eyes narrowed, but he withdrew his weapon.
"Th-thanks," I stammered, wiping sweat from my brow.
The swordsman tilted his head. "You hurt?"
"N-no. Just… uh… grateful."
The spearman muttered something to the swordsman, who glanced at the staff woman. She nodded, and her staff's gem flickered faintly.
"Are you a good person?" the swordsman asked, dead serious.
What kind of RPG NPC question is that? "Y-yeah! Super good. Like… hero-of-justice good."
The staff woman's gem pulsed. "He's truthful."
Tension dissolved. The spearman clapped my shoulder, nearly dislocating it. "Don't take it personal, kid. Strangers here either stab you or sell you."
"How'd you end up in this death trap?" the swordsman asked.
Cue the isekai lie. "Got lost… foraging sticks?"
They exchanged glances but shrugged, weirdly accepting.
"Rough luck," said the swordsman. "Where's home?"
Shit. The Japan talk ."Japan, Tiny village. You wouldn't know it."
"Japan…" The swordsman repeated, rolling the word like a foreign coin. "Never heard of it. Must be… off the royal maps." He murmur it.
"Yeah probably"
The group studied me in silence, their expressions a mix of curiosity and lingering wariness. Finally, Masamato—the swordsman—clapped his hands, dispelling the tension like a gust of wind.
"Excellent! Now that we've interrogated you thoroughly," he declared, his tone laced with dry amusement, "allow us to reciprocate. I am Masamato, leader of the Midnight Vanguard and an A-rank adventurer." He gestured to the towering figure beside him. "This walking monolith is Gild, our indomitable vanguard. The man who nearly perforated your throat is Lance, our tempest in human form. And this—" He nodded to the staff-wielding woman, her robes embroidered with celestial patterns. "—is Suzuki, our arcane strategist."
Suzuki inclined her head, her gaze as serene as still water. "Your name?"
"K-Kozuki," I stammered, acutely aware of Lance's spear still gleaming at the edge of my vision.
"Kozuki," Masamato repeated, rolling the name on his tongue. "Distinctive. I approve."
Suzuki offered a polite nod. Gild's response was a grunt that reverberated like distant thunder, ambiguous in meaning but heavy with presence.
Lance lunged forward, seizing my hand in a bone-crushing grip that rattled my teeth. "Allow me to atone for my earlier *vigilance*, young sir!" he boomed, his voice ricocheting through the trees. "I am Lance, the *Spear of Calamity*—bane of monsters and occasional overzealous protector!" He struck a dramatic pose, his armor clanking like a blacksmith's anvil. "But fret not! My fury is reserved for fiends and fools. You strike me as neither!"
"ok?" I replied
"Btw umm can you guys guide me to the nearest city?" I continue
"Sure, you can come with us, right guys?"
The party nodded
"But it is getting late, we are going to stay at the camp for the night, you can follow up us" said Masamato
"Thanks"
Masamato leads the way with Gild and Suzuki in the back and Lance beside me .
As we navigated the thickening twilight, Masamato fell into step beside me. "You have our gratitude, Kozuki."
"Me? Why?"
"That drakewyrm evaded us for three days," he said, nodding at Gild's grisly trophy. "Your… *enthusiastic* flight drew it into the open."
Lance snorted. "Translation: You're louder than a drunken minotaur! The beast tracked you like a starved hound!"
Masamato shot him a withering look. "A generous interpretation."
I blinked. "So… my panic was helpful?"
"Inadvertently," Suzuki replied, her staff casting an ethereal glow on the path ahead. "But yes."
*They're like a walking anime ensemble*, I mused, stifling a laugh.
"So, umm… why are you bringing the lizard's corpse?" I glanced back at Gild, who was hauling the massive carcass with unsettling ease. How can he carry something so monstrously huge?
"We need proof to claim our reward from the Adventurer's Guild," Lance explained, his tone as casual as if discussing the weather.
My face lit up. An Adventurer's Guild! Of course, this world would have one. It was practically a staple of isekai settings.
"Oh, I see," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant despite my growing excitement.
We continued our trek through the forest, the atmosphere shifting as twilight deepened. The air was cool but not biting, carrying the faint scent of pine and damp earth. The rustle of leaves and the rhythmic chirping of insects created a soothing symphony, a stark contrast to the chaos of the lizard encounter.
Just as I was beginning to relax, a soft, melodic voice cut through the tranquility:
"Maybe it's the way you say my name~~♪♪♪
Maybe it's the way you hunt your prey~~♪♪♪
But it's so good, I've never met—"
It was Suzuki!
"Don't worry she is always like that, her sound sweet isn't it?" said Lance.
"Yeah" I reply.
After a while, I looked back at Gild and he is still carrying the lizard without breaking a sweat. Good thing the forest path was wide, I wonder how he can carry it. I also looked at Suzuki and she was still singing. And I got a good look at her. She is thin, about 5ft 1in, C size and a golden hair. Her eyes were light blue. She held a staff as tall as her height. I wondered what it is used for? Maybe for healing?
After a while, I glanced back at Gild. He was still hauling the lizard's massive carcass without so much as a bead of sweat. How does he even manage that? The forest path was wide enough to accommodate the beast, but still—it was like watching a man carry a sedan chair made of nightmares.
My gaze shifted to Suzuki, her melodic voice still weaving through the air like a lullaby. Now that I had a moment to really look at her, I noticed her delicate frame—around 5'1", with golden hair that shimmered faintly in the fading light. Her light blue eyes held a calm intensity, and her staff, as tall as she was, seemed to hum with latent energy, she is also a C sizw. Is it for healing? Or something more arcane?
The sight of her staff triggered a flashback: me, sprawled on my apartment floor, binge-watching Sword Art Online. The healers in that show always had glowing staves, their magic mending wounds with a wave of their hands. If only real life were that simple.
We walked a short distance further before arriving at the campsite. It was a typical setup: a crackling campfire surrounded by four tents and three logs arranged like makeshift benches. The scene felt oddly nostalgic, like something out of a camping anime I'd watched years ago.
Masamato patted my back, snapping me out of my thoughts. "You can share my tent," he offered.
"Thanks," I replied, still taking in the surroundings.
Gild dropped the lizard's corpse near his tent and ducked inside without a word. Suzuki settled onto one of the logs, her staff resting beside her. Masamato sat next to her, drawing his sword to light the campfire with a flick of his wrist. Lance plopped down on the log opposite them, gesturing to the empty space beside him.
"Are you just going to stand there? Come sit," he said, patting the spot next to him.
I obliged, sinking onto the log. From this angle, I could see Masamato clearly. He looked young—maybe mid-to-late twenties—with brown hair and golden eyes that seemed to catch the firelight. His armor was sleek and obsidian-black, his sword resting casually at his side.
Lance, on the other hand, was a stark contrast. His golden hair like Suzuki and green eyes gave him an almost princely aura, and his armor—bright red with gold accents—looked like it belonged in a fantasy parade. His spear hung across his back, its tip gleaming faintly. If he were on Earth, he'd probably be a model or an idol.
As they chatted about guild missions and monster sightings, my mind drifted again. This time, I remembered my high school camping trip—the one where I'd spent the entire night trying to light a fire with damp matches while my classmates roasted marshmallows. If only I'd had a magic sword back then.
The warmth of the fire and the hum of conversation lulled me into a strange sense of calm. For the first time since waking up in this world, I felt… safe.
I finally tuned into their conversation, catching Lance mid-sentence.
"Since we've bagged the lizard, we're heading back to Solva tomorrow, right, Leader?"
"Yes," Masamato replied, his golden eyes flicking toward me. "You're coming with us, aren't you?"
"Yeah," I said, trying to sound casual.
"Good. That settles it," Masamato declared.
"Umm, can I ask something?" I ventured, sensing an opportunity to fill in the gaps of my ignorance.
"Sure, go ahead," Masamato said, leaning back against the log.
"What… is Solva?"
The question hung in the air like a bad punchline. Lance blinked, his green eyes widening. "You don't know Solva?"
"It's a city in Slyvia," Suzuki added, her tone calm but her gaze sharp.
I stared at them blankly. "Slyvia?"
Lance's jaw dropped. "Don't tell me you don't know the state of Slyvia!"
"Well, my village is… pretty remote," I stammered, scrambling for an excuse.
"Do you know Xyrus?" Suzuki interjected, her light blue eyes narrowing slightly.
"No?"
"Wow," Lance muttered, running a hand through his golden hair. "Your village must be really remote."
"Yeah," I said, forcing a sheepish grin. "Actually, this is my first time leaving it."
"Really?" Masamato raised an eyebrow.
"Really. So… would you mind telling me about Solva? And,uh, everything else?"
Masamato chuckled, the firelight catching the obsidian sheen of his armor. "Sure. Since it's your first time out, I'll give you the full rundown."
What followed was a crash course in world geography that would've made my high school history teacher weep with envy. To summarize:
This world is divided into seven kingdoms: Xipen, Elven, Uzwa, Zyrus, Kazrundak, Sapiens, and Flurose. We're currently in Kingdom Xipen, specifically the Great Forest of Juda, which straddles the border between the states of Xyrus and Slyvia.
Xipen itself is a land of contrasts. To the north rise the Zarkhadrim Peaks, a jagged mountain range rumored to be home to dragons. Beyond those peaks lies Kingdom Kazrundak, the dwarven realm. To the west, Xipen shares a border with Kingdom Uzwa, a nation known for its labyrinthine deserts and nomadic clans. To the south stretches a vast bay, its waters teeming with trade ships and, according to Lance, the occasional sea monster.
The capital of Xipen is Xyrus City, located in the state of the same name. It's surrounded by endless plains, flat and featureless except for the occasional tree. The city we're heading to, Solva, is in Slyvia. It's not huge, but it's bustling—a hub for adventurers, merchants, and, apparently, the occasional runaway lizard.
As Masamato spoke, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement. This is it. The classic isekai world tour.
The wind brushed past me as I sat beside Lance at the rear of the horse-drawn cart. The rhythmic clatter of hooves and the creak of wooden wheels filled the air, blending with the occasional chirp of birds.
"So, what do you plan to do once we reach Solva?" Lance asked, his green eyes glinting with curiosity.
"Maybe apply to become an adventurer?" I replied, trying to sound confident.
"Not a bad idea," Lance said though his tone carried a hint of caution. "But it's a dangerous path. You sure you're up for it?"
"Don't worry, I can handle danger," I said, puffing out my chest despite the fact I'd never held a sword properly in my life.
Lance chuckled and ruffled my hair. "Whatever you say, kid."
We continued along the forest path, the scenery a blur of towering trees and dappled sunlight. There were two carts in our convoy: one carrying our party and the other… well, it wasn't exactly a cart. My eyes widened as I realized the second "cart" was Gild, hauling the lizard's massive carcass on a makeshift wooden platform. What the actual hell?
Shaking off my disbelief, I turned my attention back to the journey. After a while, we finally emerged from the forest, and the sunlight hit me like a warm embrace. The open plains stretched endlessly ahead, dotted with ruins and the occasional group of adventurers. Every time we passed another party, they'd stop and stare at Gild and his grisly cargo, their expressions a mix of awe and envy. After a while,
I nudged Lance. "Hey, can you tell me about the Adventurer's Guild?"
"Sure. What do you want to know?"
"Everything."
"Ok" Lance said, leaning back and adopting the tone of a seasoned storyteller.
From what he explained, the Adventurer's Guild is a sprawling organization with branches in every state and kingdom. Adventurers are ranked from F to SSS, each tier representing a significant leap in strength and skill.
Lance leaned back, cracking his knuckles like a bard preparing for an epic tale. "Alright, kid, let's break down the Adventurer's Guild ranks. Think of it as a ladder—except every rung's guarded by monsters, and the higher you climb, the weirder the shit you fight."
He held up a finger. "F Rank: Wet-behind-the-ears newbies. You're basically a slightly buff farmer. Your big quest? Clearing rats from a granary. Congrats, you're the kingdom's fanciest exterminator."
"E Rank: Now you're cookin'! You can handle a pack of goblins or a lone wolf. Still gonna piss yourself if a troll farts in your direction, though."
"D Rank: Now we're talkin'! You're the town hero—slaying ghouls, rescuing kittens from treetops. Still not immune to embarrassing deaths, like tripping into a mimic's mouth."
He wagged a playful finger. "C Rank: Hobgoblin territory. These green-skinned bastards are smarter than they look. One wrong move, and they'll turn your armor into a colander. Respect the grind, kid."
"B Rank: Cyclops level. Ever seen one of those single-eyed freaks? They'll punt you into next week if you're sloppy. But take 'em down, and you'll earn enough gold to drown in ale—which you'll need after the trauma."
"A Rank: Giants. Yeah, the 'throw-boulders-like-snowballs' kind. You're basically a one-person army now. Townsfolk write songs about you. Also, you're legally required to grow a dramatic scar."
Lance paused, his voice dropping to a reverent whisper. "S Rank: Horde-of-giants level. You're a legend. Kings beg for your help. Also, you've probably got a really cool nickname. Like 'The Bone Crusher' or 'Lady Doomsparkles'."
"SS Rank: Dragons. Fire-breathing, treasure-hoarding, 'I-eat-knights-for-breakfast' dragons. At this point, you're either a demigod or really good at cheating death."
He leaned in close, his green eyes gleaming. "SSS Rank: Calamity-tier. You're not a person—you're a natural disaster with legs. Wars stop when you yawn. Also, you've definitely got a tragic backstory involving a lost lover or a pet dragon."
"As for monsters?" Lance smirked. "Same ranks, but the guild slaps a fancy label on the worst ones: CHAOS. Think 'apocalypse on wings' or 'sentient volcano with daddy issues'. Avoid those unless you've got a death wish—or a really shiny sword."
As Lance spoke, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and trepidation. This world is way bigger—and way deadlier—than I imagined.
"So have you ever crossed paths with a Chaos-rank monster?" I asked, my voice tinged with a mix of dread and fascination as I glanced at Lance.
He let out a sharp, humorless laugh, his green eyes glinting in the cart's swaying lantern light.
"If we'd stumbled across one in this era, the Earth would already be a smoldering husk. Not even the SSS-rank adventurers could hold back that kind of calamity."
I tilted my head, catching the odd weight in his words. "You said 'in this era.' So… there was a Chaos-level monster once, wasn't there?"
"Sharp ears, kid." Lance smirked, though his expression carried a faint edge of unease.
"Yeah, one reared its ugly head about seven hundred years ago."
"What happened to it?" I pressed, leaning forward, curiosity sparking like static in my chest.
"It was sealed," he replied, his tone clipped, as if the word itself carried a heavy lock.
"Sealed?" My brows shot up, and I couldn't hide the eager glint in my eyes.
"How? Tell me more!"
Lance arched an eyebrow, his face shifting into a bemused 'Do-you-really-not-know-this?' stare.
"Sure" he said, settling back against the cart's creaking frame, clearly warming to the role of reluctant storyteller.