When Saihō and his high school classmates are suddenly pulled into another world, they’re told one truth: only the one who delivers the final blow to the Demon King will return home.

What starts as a hopeful fantasy quickly devolves into desperation, betrayal, and carnage. Saihō, gifted with a powerful “creation” ability, is no hero—he’s a calculating survivor who will do anything to return. When half the class dies by his hand, the remaining survivors must navigate a collapsing kingdom, each other’s shifting loyalties, and their own crumbling humanity.

Now, with just two left standing—Riku, the last idealist, and the girl too afraid to speak the truth—the real end begins. But in a twisted world where morality is a liability, even the purest intent might leave you with bloodstained hands.

Only one can return. But what if the final choice isn’t who lives… but what kind of person dies?

Full page spread. A throne room-like space of divine design. The entire class stands in stunned silence before an ethereal, glowing figure—the KING.


"To earn that right… slay the Demon King. Only the one who lands the final blow shall be chosen."


Everyone's faces shift from awe to horror. Chatter erupts. Saihō is among them, quiet, face dimly lit by the glow. His fingers twitch.


"So it's a deathmatch for one ticket home?"


"There's always a catch. Nothing's free."


Wide shot of the KING raising his hand, silencing the chaos. His divine presence crackles with power.


"This land is real. Its consequences… final." 


"Wait—what? You didn't say we'd have to kill anyone."


"You said we were chosen, not thrown into a war!"


Saihō doesn't speak. He watches the crowd react. His eyes flicker—not with panic, but calculation.


"And still, no one's asking the right question."


A brave student steps forward — tall, athletic, clearly trying to hold himself together.


"This isn't right. We didn't sign up for this."


He takes another step. The glow around the KING pulses again — not brighter, but heavier. The air distorts, and the student collapses to one knee, coughing.


Miyaka clutches her sleeves, pale. Someone else pulls the fallen classmate back.


The class slowly quiets again. No answers. No explanations. Just the oppressive hum of magic.


Saihō doesn't speak. His eyes scan the throne room—the throne, the king, the gilded pillars stretching into smoke. None of it feels permanent. None of it feels real.


"They're afraid of the rules, not the system."


"Why only one return? Why us? What happens when someone wins?"


His fingers curl at his side. Not from fear. From clarity.  


A servant appears from a side door. A bow. A gesture.


"Rooms and rest await you. Tomorrow, your guidance begins."


"They're trying to ease us in. Pretend it's manageable."


Nighttime. Empty, wide-shot of the palace corridor. Lamps flicker.


Saihō lies in his room on a bed too soft. He stares at the ceiling. The quiet gnaws at him.


Moonlight casts a pale glow on his face. Eyes open. Awake.


Chapter 2 - ONE RULE