The hall was heavy with silence. Blue flames flickered in braziers along the walls, casting tall shadows that danced across ancient stone pillars. The smell of incense hung thick in the air, and the faint echo of chanting lingered as if the walls themselves remembered the ritual just performed.
Ryuzen Kurogane's boots pressed against the cold stone floor, his breath steady but low. His eyes swept across the scene, sharp and unflinching.
Directly before him stood three figures.
The first was a man draped in robes of deep crimson and gold, his posture tall and commanding. His voice had carried earlier, powerful enough to silence an entire class of screaming students. His crown gleamed faintly in the torchlight.
"I am King Albrecht," he said, his tone formal, deliberate. His hand gestured to the young woman beside him. "And this is my daughter, Princess Celestia."
Gasps rippled through the classroom of summoned students.
The princess stood with grace, her golden hair cascading like silk down her back, her eyes a radiant shade of sapphire. A faint smile touched her lips, calm yet dignified. The gown she wore shimmered as if woven from starlight itself. She was, without exaggeration, breathtaking.
The air shifted as nearly every boy in the class stared openly, their awe obvious. Whispers began immediately.
"She's… gorgeous…"
"Is she even real?"
"Like… straight out of an anime."
Even Daichi leaned forward, his jaw slack. "D-damn… she's like… goddess level…"
Ryuzen remained still, though his gaze lingered on her just briefly. Not out of fascination, but observation. Her expression was poised, practiced—like someone long accustomed to being stared at.
But before any further thoughts could form, another voice cut through the room.
A man in gray robes stood slightly behind the king, his beard long, his staff clutched firmly. His eyes were sharp, intelligent, and old—too old. The kind of gaze that felt as if it had seen centuries pass.
He said nothing at first, merely studying the new arrivals.
It was then that one of Ryuzen's classmates stepped forward. His uniform was slightly neater than the rest, his posture proud, his expression unflinching.
Hirata Kurosawa.
"Wait a moment." His voice was loud, carrying across the hall. "You can't just summon us without warning. We're ordinary high school students—we don't have the power to be what you're asking for."
Murmurs spread through the group of classmates. Some nodded, some frowned. Hirata was popular, confident, often seen as a leader among them. His words gave voice to the unease they all felt.
The king opened his mouth, but it was the old man in gray who spoke first. His voice was gravelly yet commanding.
"That," the robed elder said, "is precisely why you have been summoned as Heroes. The gods have already prepared for this."
His staff tapped the stone floor once, resonating with a soft chime.
"All of you now carry the blessing of the divine. Systems and classes chosen for your souls by the heavens themselves. Simply call upon it. Say the words: Status Window."
The room went silent for a breath.
Then Hirata's jaw tightened. "Status… Window."
The moment the words left his lips, a glow enveloped his eyes, and before him appeared a translucent screen—hovering in the air, visible to all.
Gasps filled the chamber. The text on the screen glowed faintly:
Name: Hirata Kurosawa
Class: Hero
Level: 1
Skills: [Blessing of Valor], [Swordsmanship Beginner]
Title: Chosen Hero of the Realm
"It's… real…" someone whispered.
Hirata's fists clenched as he stared at the word "Hero." His face shifted between awe and confusion. He turned sharply toward the king.
"…So it's true."
The king nodded, lips curving into the faintest of smiles. "Indeed. You are chosen."
"Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap—my turn!" Daichi nearly tripped over himself as he shot to his feet. His grin was manic, his eyes sparkling. He thrust out his hand like an anime protagonist about to cast a spell.
"STATUS WINDOW!"
The glowing screen burst forth in front of him. He read it aloud instantly, his voice booming.
Name: Daichi Hayama
Class: Wind Mage
Level: 1
Skills: [Wind Arrow], [Air Manipulation], [Basic Chanting]
Title: Apprentice Mage of the Breeze
"Yes! YESSS!" Daichi pumped his fists in the air. His classmates stared as if he'd lost his mind. "Wind mage! My dream class! Do you know how long I've wanted this?! Fire and lightning are cool and all, but wind—it's versatile, mobile, tactical—man, I can already think of like fifty strategies!"
A few students laughed nervously. Some shared in his enthusiasm. Others muttered with doubt.
But Daichi didn't care. His grin stretched from ear to ear as he practically glowed with happiness.
Ryuzen, from his spot by the edge of the group, exhaled softly through his nose. "…Wind mage, huh."
He could practically feel Daichi's excitement radiating off him like heat.
The glowing screen before him pulsed with divine light. His eyes scanned the text carefully:
Name: Ryuzen Kurogane
Class: Primordial God Dragon Samurai
Level: 1
Skills: [Dimensional Sever], [Dragon's Bloodline], [Martial Soul], [Eternal Endurance]
Title: Silent Blade Beyond Realms
The moment he read it, Ryuzen's breath caught in his chest. His pulse quickened, though his face remained perfectly calm.
Primordial… God… Dragon… Samurai.
Even the words alone radiated danger. He didn't know what it meant—but instinct told him one thing: this was not something he should reveal lightly.
A ripple of energy from the screen seemed to confirm his thought, as though warning him: Be silent.
"Oi, Kurogane," Daichi leaned over, practically bouncing with excitement. "What class did you get?! Don't tell me it's something crazy like mine!"
The elder in gray robes had already noticed the unusual glow of Ryuzen's screen. His sharp, suspicious eyes bore into the boy, waiting. Even the king and princess watched him with curious silence.
Ryuzen closed his hand slowly, letting the glowing screen dim before anyone could glimpse the details. His voice was steady, quiet, almost dismissive.
"…Just a Samurai."
A wave of disappointment and laughter spread among the classmates.
"Pfft—seriously? Samurai?"
"Wow, that's boring."
"Dude, that's so basic."
"Not even a knight, just a samurai?"
Daichi blinked, scratching his head. "Samurai? Huh… well, that's still kinda cool, though!" He grinned as if trying to cheer him up. "I mean, at least it fits you, right? Sword and all?"
Ryuzen offered no reply. He simply folded his arms, his gaze lowering slightly.
Inside, however, his thoughts were clear.
(No one needs to know the truth. At least… not yet.)
The elder in gray robes narrowed his eyes. Something about the boy's aura gnawed at him. It didn't match the word "Samurai." But the boy's expression was unreadable, and without evidence, he said nothing.
The king leaned back in his throne, his smile faint. "A Samurai, you say…?" His tone carried a note of doubt, but he let the matter drop.
The princess, however, continued watching Ryuzen quietly, her sapphire eyes glimmering with something unreadable.
The throne room felt heavy after the frenzy of status windows. Excitement buzzed among the students like an uncontrollable storm. The air was thick with voices—murmurs, cheers, exclamations of wonder.
Some were giddy with their new powers, while others sulked at "ordinary" classes.
"Man, tomorrow can't come soon enough!"
"I'm gonna practice my fireball until I can burn a mountain!"
"Did you see my stats? Strength is already triple yours, haha!"
The king, seated firmly upon his gilded throne, raised a hand. His presence alone silenced the hall.
"That will be enough for tonight." His voice carried weight, a deep resonance that echoed off the stone walls. "You are tired from the summoning. Starting tomorrow, your training as Heroes shall begin. For now… rest."
He gestured, and servants in ornate uniforms stepped forward, bowing deeply.
"They will escort you to your chambers."
The students erupted into chatter once more—this time thrilled.
"Chambers? Like, actual palace chambers?!"
"No way, I get to live like royalty?!"
"This is insane…"
Daichi's eyes sparkled like a child at an amusement park. "Ryuzen, can you believe this?! We're gonna sleep in a freaking castle room! I swear, this is like every isekai anime ever!"
Ryuzen's lips quirked faintly. "You're too loud."
But inwardly, he admitted—he was curious.
They were led through grand halls lined with crimson carpets and marble pillars. Tapestries of ancient battles hung on the walls, their threads shimmering with gold. Crystal chandeliers glowed overhead, bathing the corridors in soft light.
Each room assigned to them was enormous—far beyond anything they had seen back in their world. Four-poster beds draped with velvet. Windows that opened to a sprawling view of the capital city, its lanterns twinkling like stars below. Dressers carved from rare wood, silver basins, even steaming baths prepared.
The students' reactions were immediate.
"Holy crap, this bed is huge!"
"Are you kidding me, this is bigger than my apartment back home…"
"Food! Look, they even left fruit and wine!"
Daichi threw himself onto the mattress, sinking into the blankets with a blissful sigh. "Bro, I'm never leaving this bed. Forget being a hero, this is the dream life already."
Ryuzen, however, was quieter. He moved around his chamber slowly, fingers brushing across the lacquered wood of the dresser. He slid open the window, letting the night breeze drift in.
The city beyond glittered faintly, torches lining the streets, faint music echoing from far below. It was… unreal.
(So this is another world…)
His reflection stared back at him in the glass—his own calm eyes, unwavering. But he knew the truth.
Primordial God Dragon Samurai.
The words still rang in his skull, heavier than steel.
And yet, no one else knew.
Or so he thought.
"Ryuzen Kurogane."
The voice was soft yet commanding.
Ryuzen turned. At the doorway of his chamber stood the robed elder from earlier—the man whose presence had weighed heavily even in the throne room. His beard flowed down like silver thread, his staff clutched firmly in one hand.
"You." Ryuzen's eyes narrowed slightly.
The old man inclined his head. "Come. There is something we must speak of."
He didn't wait for permission, simply turning and walking down the corridor.
For a moment, Ryuzen considered refusing. But something in the elder's aura—the gravity of his words—urged him forward.
Silently, he followed.
They walked through quieter halls, deeper into the palace. At last, they entered a chamber far removed from the luxury of the others. It was smaller, plain—lined with shelves of scrolls and tomes, an incense burner filling the air with faint smoke.
The elder turned, lowering himself slowly into a chair with a grunt.
"My apologies. These bones are not what they once were."
His staff rested at his side. He placed a hand upon his chest.
"I am Saint Aelthrys."
Ryuzen blinked once. The name itself seemed to hum with weight.
"…Saint?"
Aelthrys chuckled faintly. "Yes. That is the title I bear, though soon it will mean little. My time in this world grows short." His eyes softened, a weariness visible beneath the sharpness. "Two days, at most, before my life ends."
Ryuzen's gaze sharpened. "Then why call me here?"
The old man leaned forward. His eyes gleamed.
"…Because you are not what you claim to be."
The room fell silent.
Ryuzen said nothing. His face betrayed no emotion, though his hand twitched faintly at his side.
"I watched your summoning closely." Aelthrys's voice was low but firm. "Your status screen glowed unlike the others. I saw through it."
His words cut like a blade.
"You carry the class of Dragon Samurai, do you not?"
For the first time since entering this world, Ryuzen's composure cracked. His eyes narrowed sharply.
"…How do you know that?"
Aelthrys smiled faintly, tapping his temple.
"I am a Saint, boy. My blessing allows me to see the truth of others—their windows, their destinies, their burdens. Nothing can be hidden from me."
He coughed, his breath wheezing. Yet his gaze never wavered.
"Do not mistake me. I will not expose your secret. But you must understand: your path is unlike any of the others. You are no mere samurai."
Ryuzen exhaled slowly, his thoughts racing. So his suspicion was right—this man wasn't ordinary.
"…Then what do you want from me?"
Aelthrys's expression softened, though his voice remained grave.
"I summoned you all here. It was my ritual, my prayer, that pulled you from your world." His hand trembled faintly as it rested on the staff. "But the truth is this—my time ends soon. And before I pass, there is something I must entrust to you."
Ryuzen's eyes narrowed further.
"…Entrust?"
The Saint nodded slowly. His eyes, though weary, blazed with conviction.
"Yes. Something only a Dragon Samurai can bear."
The night was still, the stars scattered like shattered diamonds across the velvet sky. The palace slept behind them, its towers glowing faintly in the distance, but Ryuzen Kurogane no longer walked its grand halls.
Instead, he followed the old Saint Aelthrys into the depths of the wilderness.
The forest loomed dark around them, trees rising like ancient guardians, their branches whispering in the wind. Strange calls echoed faintly—distant howls, the flutter of unseen wings. The faint glow of the Saint's staff lit their path, every step sinking into damp soil.
Ryuzen walked in silence, his eyes sharp, his hand resting at his side where his ordinary practice sword had been. Something about this night felt heavy, as though the world itself held its breath.
At last, unable to contain his curiosity, he spoke.
"…Where are you leading me, old man?"
Aelthrys chuckled softly, though his breath rattled faintly with age. "To a place long forgotten. A place where your true journey begins."
The path narrowed, roots twisting across the ground. The trees grew thicker until, finally, the forest parted—revealing a vast opening in the earth.
A cave mouth yawned before them, its entrance jagged like the jaws of a beast. Moss clung to the stone, and an ancient, heavy air seeped from within.
Ryuzen's brows furrowed. "…A cave?"
The Saint stopped, his staff sinking slightly into the earth as he leaned upon it. His old eyes glimmered faintly in the starlight.
"This," he said slowly, "is no ordinary cave. It is the resting place of something older than kingdoms, older than the heroes before you." He raised his staff slightly. "Come. Enter."
The air grew colder as they stepped inside, the walls damp with age. Faint glyphs glowed along the stone, runes etched by hands long turned to dust.
Ryuzen's eyes followed them, sharp and calculating. He could feel something—an aura that pressed against his chest, heavy, ancient.
They walked deeper until the passage widened.
And there it stood.
A towering gate, carved of black stone veined with crimson light, loomed before them. Its doors were massive, impossible for any single man to open. Faded carvings of dragons sprawled across its surface, their eyes glimmering faintly as though alive.
Ryuzen exhaled quietly. "…What is this place?"
"The resting ground," Aelthrys answered, his voice reverent. "This gate seals what was left behind by one who walked your path long ago."
He lifted his trembling hand. The staff struck the stone floor with a resonant chime. The runes upon the gate flared to life.
With a low rumble, the massive doors began to shift. Dust cascaded from their edges as they slowly, agonizingly, opened.
A blast of stale yet powerful air swept out, stirring Ryuzen's hair.
Inside… was silence.
Beyond the gate stretched a vast cavern lit by ethereal blue fire that burned in sconces without fuel. The ground was smooth, the air tinged with an almost divine pressure.
And at its center, upon a dais of jagged stone, stood a single sword.
Its blade was long, sleek, curved like a katana, yet wider than any ordinary weapon. Its guard was shaped in the likeness of a dragon's wings, the hilt wrapped in faded cloth. The steel shimmered faintly, as though breathing with a pulse of its own.
It was embedded deep in a slab of rock, unmoving, waiting.
Ryuzen's eyes narrowed. "…A sword?"
"A sword older than empires," Aelthrys said, his voice trembling—not from weakness, but reverence. "That blade has rested here for over a thousand years."
Ryuzen turned sharply toward him. "A thousand years? Impossible. No blade could last that long."
The Saint chuckled hoarsely, his shoulders shaking. "Indeed… no ordinary blade. But this is no mere sword. This is the Dragon Sword. Known in the tongue of its first master as the Dragon Katana."
The name echoed through the cavern like a whisper of thunder.
"Dragon Katana…" Ryuzen repeated under his breath, his hand instinctively brushing the air at his side.
Aelthrys's gaze grew distant, his eyes shimmering faintly. "Long ago, one much like you was summoned here. He bore a class akin to yours… a Dragon Samurai. With that blade in hand, he struck down the Demon King and saved this world. In time, he ascended to divinity itself. A god."
Ryuzen's brows furrowed. "…And this sword—"
"—was his," Aelthrys finished softly. His lips curled faintly. "And it seems… he chose you as its successor."
The words struck the air like lightning.
"Go," the Saint urged. "Claim it."
Ryuzen stepped forward. Each footfall echoed across the cavern. His eyes never left the blade.
As he reached the dais, he paused. His fingers flexed once at his side before rising slowly toward the hilt.
The moment his hand brushed the cloth-wrapped grip—
BOOM.
Light erupted.
The cavern shook as an aura burst forth from the sword, a storm of pressure so heavy the air itself seemed to bend. Blue fire flared wildly. The runes upon the walls blazed to life.
Ryuzen grit his teeth, his muscles tensing as the force tried to hurl him back. But his grip tightened. His gaze sharpened.
With a deep breath, he pulled.
The stone cracked.
The Dragon Katana slid free, its steel blazing with radiant light.
The instant it left the stone, a surge of energy ripped through him, flooding his veins like fire and lightning entwined. His body trembled—not in weakness, but in awakening.
The blade pulsed once, then twice, before settling, its glow softening into a steady radiance.
And in that moment, Ryuzen knew.
This was no ordinary weapon.
This blade had a soul.
And it had chosen him.
Behind him, Aelthrys exhaled a shaky laugh, his staff rattling as he leaned upon it. "Heh… just as I thought. It accepts you."
Ryuzen turned, the katana still humming faintly in his grip. "This sword… it's different. It feels… alive."
The Saint nodded slowly. "Because it is. The Dragon Katana is bound now—to your very soul. No other hand will ever wield it."
Ryuzen glanced down at the blade, its edge gleaming faintly in the cavern's light. His expression, though calm, carried the faintest shadow of awe.
"…I see."
The Saint stepped back, his breathing ragged. His old eyes softened, the weight of centuries lifting as he gazed at Ryuzen.
"Keep it well, boy. For soon… it will be all you have."
Ryuzen's eyes narrowed faintly. "…What do you mean?"
Aelthrys smiled weakly. "My duty ends here. The summoning is complete. The guidance is given. Now… I must go, to the mountain peak where my life will end."
Ryuzen's grip tightened slightly on the hilt. For a moment, he said nothing. Then, slowly, he lowered his head.
"…Thank you. For guiding me."
The Saint chuckled softly, a weary but warm sound. "Do not thank me. It was simply… obligation. My final duty as Saint."
His form seemed smaller now, weighed down by years. Yet his eyes still burned with faint pride as he turned toward the cavern's exit.
"Go forward, Ryuzen Kurogane. Bear the Dragon Katana well. The world will one day look to you… though it may not yet know why."
Ryuzen stood in silence, the katana in his grasp, the faint pulse of its soul echoing in his chest.
As the old man's steps faded into the distance, he whispered softly into the quiet cavern.
"…Obligation or not… I will not waste it."
The Dragon Katana gleamed faintly in response, as though acknowledging his vow.