The line of so-called heroes didn't even last five seconds.
"Why do I have to stand next to him?" Aiden Veylor, the tall swordsman with a glowing blade strapped across his back, jabbed a thumb at the armored brute beside him. "He smells like a pigsty!"
"Better a pigsty than a spoiled noble brat," the armored brute growled back, making his metal armor clank with each breath.
"Both of you shut up before I roast you!" snapped Selene Arkwright, sparks flickering on her fingertips. Her robes shimmered with floating runes, and tiny sparks of fire danced around her knuckles, warning anyone who even thought about touching her.
Derrick Lawson, instinctively, blew his whistle. TWEET!
Every hero flinched. Even the king twitched. A collective shiver ran through the nobles watching from the balconies above.
"Rule one," Derrick said, pacing like he was on a basketball court, clipboard in hand, voice low and deadly serious. "When I say line up, you line up. No excuses. No whining. No backtalk. You think the Demon King is going to pause so you can argue about proximity or smell? Hell no."
The group groaned and shuffled, muttering under their breath.
Aiden crossed his arms, glaring. "This is ridiculous. I'm supposed to be leading armies, not standing in line like a schoolboy."
"You're supposed to be part of a team, idiot," Derrick snapped. "Leadership isn't about who's flashy or loud—it's about knowing when to pass the ball. And trust me, in case you didn't notice, this world doesn't care about your ego."
"Ego?!" Aiden sputtered. "I am the chosen swordsman! This kingdom has no idea how lucky it is to have me!"
Derrick rolled his eyes. "Chosen swordsman? Cute. You're about to be chosen for humility. Keep your ego in check, or it's push-ups until sunset."
Ryker Thorne, the armored brute, cracked his knuckles. "At least someone respects my strength. I'll stand here and crush any enemy that comes at us."
Derrick nodded. "Good. That's half correct. But strength without strategy is useless. You'll learn that soon. For now… stay in line."
Selene snapped her fingers, sending a small fireball sizzling across the floor. "I don't take orders from peasants in polo shirts."
"You don't take orders from anyone until you learn to listen," Derrick said calmly. "Try it. It might save your life one day."
Kaela Dawnmist, the timid healer, shuffled to the back, clasping her holy staff with both hands. Her voice barely rose above a whisper. "Um… I don't really know what I'm supposed to do."
"You heal people," Derrick said, crouching slightly to meet her eyes. "When we get out there, someone's going to get hurt. Your job is to make sure they don't die. Think of it as defense practice. But don't faint halfway through."
Kaela nodded hesitantly, hiding a small smile. Somehow, Derrick's confidence made her believe she might survive.
Jax Merrin, the rogue, leaned lazily against the wall, spinning a dagger between his fingers. "I don't know why I even got summoned. I'm out of shape, and this looks boring."
"Boring?" Derrick muttered under his breath. "You're alive. You're going to live longer than half of you if you stop whining. And if you think skipping practice makes you clever, you'll discover how fast death comes."
Liora Fenwyn, the smallest of the heroes, hugged her oversized summoning tome tightly. "I'll do my best! Please, teach me!" Her voice was high-pitched but full of sincerity.
Derrick smirked. "Enthusiasm counts for something. You're on my team now, kid. Don't screw it up."
Finally, Darius Crowne, the scholar, adjusted his glasses, looking like he'd been dragged into the room against his will. "This is absurd. I've read six volumes of Demon King campaigns. I understand battlefield strategy. None of this—standing in a line—nonsense—will accomplish anything."
"Theory's nothing without execution," Derrick said, leaning on his whistle. "You'll learn that soon. Right now, this lineup? It's your first lesson in coordination. Stand here. Listen. Move when I tell you to."
The group groaned, whispered, and muttered, but no one moved. They had no choice.
Derrick circled them like a hawk, studying each one. Aiden's posture screamed pride and impatience. Ryker's muscles rippled with raw power, ready to charge into anything. Selene's eyes burned with defiance and a hint of envy toward the sword-wielding brat. Kaela's hands shook, but her stance suggested she wanted to try. Liora fidgeted nervously, but her attention never wavered from Derrick. Jax's eyes gleamed with mischievous calculation. Darius's expression said, I'm above all this… but I'm curious enough to see what happens.
Derrick clapped his hands together. "Alright! Welcome to your first training session. I don't care if you think this is beneath you. I don't care if you're scared. You're here to become a team. And believe me… you're going to need each other alive for the Demon King."
The king blinked. "Demon… what?"
"Exactly my point," Derrick said with a faint grin. "You're going to survive because I make you stronger, together. Not individually. This is going to hurt, and some of you are going to complain. But in a week, you'll thank me. Maybe. Or not. Whichever. Now—introductions, by position. Start with the swordsman."
Aiden puffed his chest out. "I am Aiden Veylor. The chosen swordsman. Leader of this party. I will guide them to victory—"
Derrick blew his whistle. TWEET!
Everyone flinched. "Silence. Introduce yourself and shut up after the first sentence."
"…Yes, coach," Aiden muttered, deflating like a punctured balloon.
Selene followed. "Selene Arkwright. Archmage-in-training. I prefer not to follow orders from—"
"Enough. Shooting guard," Derrick interrupted.
Ryker thumped his chest. "Ryker Thorne. Shield of the kingdom!"
"Center," Derrick muttered.
Kaela whispered, "Kaela Dawnmist… I heal people…"
"Shooter who doesn't shoot. We'll fix that."
Jax spun his dagger lazily. "Jax Merrin. Don't expect me to fight fair."
"Benchwarmer until proven useful," Derrick muttered.
Liora smiled. "Liora Fenwyn! I'll do my best!"
"You don't even know me yet," Derrick said, amused.
"I can tell," she said with complete sincerity.
Darius adjusted his glasses. "Darius Crowne. I've studied every battle tactic in the last century. I don't need… coaching."
"Cool," Derrick said. "We'll see who survives the first drill. Theory doesn't help when your team collapses under pressure."
He stepped back, whistle dangling. Seven misfits. Zero teamwork. Infinite potential.
Day one. They were his. And tomorrow, practice would begin.
"By the way," Derrick muttered under his breath, "if you think summoning me magically made you heroes, you're in for a reality check."
The heroes blinked. They had no idea how right he was.