The sound of wood cutting through air echoed rhythmically through the empty park.Whoosh.Whoosh.Whoosh.
A single boy stood at the far edge of the training grounds, his hands gripping a battered wooden sword. Sweat poured down his face, dripping onto the dirt below, but his eyes remained sharp. Every swing carried force, not the polished elegance of a trained swordsman, but the stubborn weight of obsession.
The boy's name was Kaito Arisawa.
Seventeen years old. A high school student who, to most people, was nothing more than a social outcast. Thin, average in height, with messy black hair and tired eyes, he didn't stand out in any meaningful way. He wasn't good at sports. His grades hovered near the bottom. His personality was quiet to the point of invisibility. If you asked his classmates about him, most would struggle to even remember his face.
But here, away from the judging stares of others, Kaito was different.
"Two thousand, nine hundred and ninety-seven… two thousand, nine hundred and ninety-eight… two thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine… three thousand."
His voice trembled as he gasped for air, his arms shaking violently. His shoulders burned with pain, his hands blistered from the wooden grip, and his lungs screamed in protest. Yet despite his exhaustion, his eyes still gleamed with a restless fire.
"Three thousand swings… That should be enough for today."
He let out a heavy breath, lowering the sword. His knees gave way, and he collapsed onto the cool grass, staring up at the darkening sky. The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the clouds orange and purple.
To anyone else, his daily ritual looked insane. In this modern, peaceful era, where wars were distant history lessons and monsters were nothing but entertainment in movies or games, what reason could there be for a boy to swing a wooden sword thousands of times every single day?
The answer was simple: Kaito Arisawa was a dreamer.
Not the kind of dreamer who wanted money, fame, or power. No—his dream was far stranger, far more impossible.
"I wish… I could live in a world where swords actually matter," he whispered, his voice carrying into the empty park. "A world with monsters, dungeons, magic… A world where effort means something. Where strength… means something."
He chuckled bitterly at his own words.
Because in this world, none of it mattered.
Kaito's obsession had long earned him ridicule. At school, people whispered behind his back, calling him The Sword Freak.
"Did you see him at the park again? He's still swinging that stick around."
"Does he seriously think he's an anime character? How pathetic."
"Arisawa's crazy. He should just join a sports club if he wants attention."
Their laughter always reached his ears, even when he tried to block it out. But what stung wasn't the insults—it was the truth hidden within them. He was pathetic. He was strange. He knew that.
Even his teachers looked at him with weary pity, urging him to stop wasting time."Kaito, you're seventeen. You should be preparing for university exams, not chasing fantasies," his homeroom teacher once said.
At home, things weren't any better. His parents had long since stopped trying to understand him. His father worked late nights at the company, barely speaking at dinner. His mother busied herself with chores, rarely looking him in the eye. To them, Kaito was a disappointment—an ordinary son who failed to meet expectations, drifting aimlessly in his useless hobbies.
So Kaito retreated into solitude.
His bedroom was his kingdom. Posters of fantasy anime lined the walls: brave heroes wielding glowing swords, beautiful heroines casting powerful magic, fierce dragons soaring through crimson skies. Manga volumes stacked precariously on his desk, while his laptop sat at the center, glowing faintly with the pause screen of the latest anime he had been binging.
Every night, Kaito drowned himself in those fictional worlds.
When the heroes struggled, he clenched his fists.When they triumphed, his heart soared.When they fell in love, his chest ached with longing.
Because in those worlds, everything made sense. Effort was rewarded. Courage mattered. Even the weakest had the chance to become strong.
But when the screen went black, reality swallowed him whole again.
A world where his dreams were meaningless.A world where he was invisible.A world that didn't need him.
Morning came with the shrill scream of his alarm clock. Kaito groaned, slamming the snooze button before dragging himself out of bed. His uniform hung loosely on his frame as he trudged to school, headphones on, trying to drown out the chatter of students around him.
Class was uneventful. He sat in the back, ignored as usual. During lunch, he ate alone, watching groups of friends laugh and chat while he quietly unwrapped his convenience store sandwich.
"Kaito Arisawa? Oh, that weird guy with the sword thing, right?" he overheard a classmate whisper once. The others giggled.
He lowered his eyes, pretending not to hear. He was used to it by now.
After school, while others hung out at cafés or karaoke bars, Kaito went straight to the park, wooden sword in hand. The same routine. The same endless swings.
Whoosh.Whoosh.Whoosh.
To them, it was meaningless. To him, it was everything.
Because deep down, Kaito held onto a fragile belief.
Somewhere inside him, beneath all the mockery and loneliness, Kaito believed something no one else did.
That this world wasn't everything.That there had to be something more.That maybe—just maybe—his endless training wasn't meaningless.
He couldn't explain it. He had no proof. But every time he swung his sword, he felt it. A whisper in his soul. A calling he couldn't put into words.
And if that day ever came, the day this ordinary world changed… he wanted to be ready.
Even if everyone thought he was insane.Even if he was the only one who believed.
That evening, Kaito lay sprawled on his bed, eyes glued to the glowing screen of his laptop. The anime he was watching had reached its climax: the weak, ridiculed protagonist had finally stood tall, sword in hand, facing a monstrous foe.
Kaito's chest tightened as he leaned forward. His hands trembled with excitement. His eyes burned.
"Yes… That's it… That's how it should be…" he whispered, voice shaking. "If only… If only I could live like that. If only this world wasn't so… empty."
His throat ached as he forced the words out.
"If only… I could go to a place where strength matters. Where effort matters. Where… I matter."
He clenched his fists so hard that his nails dug into his palms. A sharp sting of pain snapped him back, and only then did he realize tears were streaming down his cheeks.
"Please…" he whispered into the darkness, a desperate prayer to no one. "Someone… anyone… take me away from this world…"
The anime ended, the credits rolling across the screen, but Kaito's eyes remained locked on the glowing monitor. His chest heaved. His heart pounded.
Then, for a fleeting moment, the wind outside howled violently, rattling his window. The room flickered with shadows as clouds swallowed the moon.
Kaito blinked, confused, but before he could react, his eyelids grew heavy. Exhaustion dragged him into sleep, his body collapsing onto the bed.
As he drifted deeper into slumber, his dreams shifted.
He saw flashes of strange landscapes—towering castles, endless forests, mountains glowing with crystal light. He saw two moons hanging in the night sky. He heard monstrous roars, the clash of steel, the cries of warriors.
And then… he saw him.
A man standing amidst flames, he reached out to him, lips moving soundlessly, as if calling his name.
Kaito's breath caught. His heart thundered in his chest.
Somewhere, beyond the veil of dreams, a voice whispered:
"Seeker of destiny… You are the chosen one."
Kaito's body shivered. His grip tightened unconsciously as if holding an invisible sword.
And for the first time in years, he smiled in his sleep.
Because in that moment, buried deep in his heart, he knew.
His wish… had been heard.
Kaito's alarm clock screamed like an angry demon.BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
His hand shot out from under the blanket and slammed the button. The room fell silent again except for his groggy breathing. Slowly, his eyes blinked open. He stared at the ceiling, the familiar water stains forming vague shapes in the plaster.
"…So that was just a dream," he murmured, voice hoarse.
He rolled onto his side, memories of the strange vision clinging to the edges of his mind: the flames, the girl, the two moons, the whisper calling him "Seeker of destiny." For a moment, he'd almost believed it.
But of course, it had only been a dream.
A dream, like every other night's fantasy.
"…Right. Like that would ever happen," he muttered, rubbing his face. "Get a grip, Kaito."
He forced himself out of bed. His body felt heavier than usual, but he chalked it up to staying up too late again. He stripped off his sweaty T-shirt, stumbled into the bathroom, and turned on the shower. The icy water hit his skin, jolting him awake.
"Another day of nothing," he said to the empty room.
He dressed in his usual casual clothes—loose track pants and a faded T-shirt—and grabbed his wooden sword from the corner of the room. Its grip was worn smooth by years of practice. He slung it over his shoulder and stepped outside.
The morning air was crisp, the sky painted pale blue. Joggers passed by, giving him curious glances as he headed toward the park. By now, most of the locals recognized him. Some whispered. Some snickered. Others just shook their heads.
The "Sword Freak" at it again.
Kaito ignored them.
He reached his usual spot: a small clearing surrounded by trees. The ground was firm but slightly scarred by his endless training. He planted his feet, took a deep breath, and raised the wooden sword.
Whoosh.Whoosh.Whoosh.
The blade cut through the air, over and over, the rhythm soothing like a heartbeat. He counted silently in his head, his lips moving faintly.
One hundred. Two hundred. Three hundred.
Sweat began to drip down his temples. His arms ached sooner than usual. He pushed harder.
Six hundred. Seven hundred. Eight hundred.
His lungs burned. His vision blurred at the edges. He clenched his teeth.
"Nine hundred…" he panted. "…Nine hundred and fifty…"
Finally, "One thousand!"
He dropped to one knee, gasping for air. His whole body trembled, his grip slack on the wooden sword.
"What… the hell?" he muttered between breaths. "Why… am I so… tired? This is nothing… I've done three thousand before… this is… ridiculous…"
A sharp pain shot through his chest. His head spun. The world tilted.
"No… way…" he whispered, but his voice faded.
The trees around him blurred into smears of color. The sound of cicadas dissolved into a ringing silence. His fingers slipped, the wooden sword falling to the ground with a dull thud.
Then everything went black.
When Kaito opened his eyes again, he was no longer in the park.
He was lying on a bed so soft it felt like clouds, the sheets white as snow and embroidered with gold patterns. A chandelier of crystal light hung from a high vaulted ceiling. Sunlight—or something like sunlight—streamed through enormous windows draped with velvet curtains.
Kaito blinked, his mouth dry.
"…What… is this place?" he whispered.
He pushed himself up, his heart hammering. His wooden sword was gone. Instead, he wore a simple but clean tunic. The air smelled faintly of flowers and something sweet.
And then he noticed someone standing at the foot of the bed.
It was a young man—or at least, he appeared young. His hair was silver-white, flowing like liquid light. His eyes glimmered like stars, deep and endless. He wore a robe of blue and gold, and an aura of power radiated from him, making the air itself feel heavy.
The stranger smiled warmly.
"Welcome, Kaito Arisawa," he said, his voice resonant yet gentle. "I am Albryst. A god of this realm."
Kaito stared, his brain struggling to process the words.
"A… god?" he repeated weakly. "This… this is like… an anime scene…"
Albryst chuckled softly. "In a way, yes. Though this is no mere scene, young one. This is reality—at least, reality from now on."
Kaito swallowed hard. His hands trembled on the sheets. "…Wait. Are you saying… I'm dead?"
Albryst nodded without hesitation. "Indeed. Your body in your original world has ceased to function. You collapsed after your training. Your soul has been brought here."
Kaito blinked. The words should have sent him into panic, but instead he felt… strangely calm. Empty, even.
"…So I'm dead," he said flatly.
Albryst tilted his head. "You are surprisingly composed. Most mortals panic when told they've died."
Kaito let out a hollow laugh. "Why would I panic? There's nothing… no one… waiting for me back there. No one will cry for me. No one will even notice."
The god's eyes softened. "Your life was a sad one, wasn't it?"
Kaito looked down at his hands, silent.
Albryst walked closer, his presence filling the room like sunlight. "It has been a long time since I summoned someone like you," he said. "And you, Kaito Arisawa… you are the one I like the most."
Kaito blinked in surprise, looking up. "Like the most?"
The god nodded. "Yes. I have summoned many from your world before. Most of them were arrogant, intoxicated with the idea of becoming heroes in a fantasy realm. They thought themselves destined for greatness without effort."
Kaito gave a small, humorless smile. "Yeah. That sounds about right."
"But you…" Albryst's voice softened. "You trained for years in obscurity. You were mocked, ridiculed, yet you persevered. Even in a world where swords had no meaning, you swung yours. You prayed for a world where effort mattered. Tell me, Kaito—are you not happy to finally be here?"
Kaito's heart pounded. He stared at his hands again, trembling. Slowly, a smile crept onto his face.
"I'm not happy…" he whispered. "I'm overjoyed. I've been waiting for this my whole life. I've prayed for this. I've trained for this. I… I want to live in a world that needs swords."
Albryst's expression turned almost paternal. "Your life was hard, Kaito. Very hard. And yet you did not give up. That is why you are here."
Kaito raised his eyes, tears glimmering. "So… this isn't a dream? I'm really… in another world?"
"Yes," Albryst said simply. "From this point on, your journey begins."
Kaito's chest felt like it would burst. Every fantasy he'd ever clung to, every lonely night spent wishing for more—it was all real now. This wasn't a screen. This wasn't a story.
This was his life.
He wiped at his eyes, laughing through his tears. "I can't believe it… I really can't believe it…"
Albryst smiled faintly. "Believe it, Kaito Arisawa. Your struggle was not in vain. Your blade was not meaningless. And soon, you will understand why you were chosen."
Kaito took a shaky breath. "Chosen… for what?"
"That," Albryst said, "is something you will discover in time. For now, know only this: the world you have longed for awaits you. And it needs someone like you."
Kaito's fingers curled into fists. His heart roared in his chest. He felt alive—more alive than he had ever felt.
For the first time in his seventeen years, Kaito Arisawa felt like he mattered.
The grand chamber shimmered with divine light, silent except for the gentle hum of energy that pulsed in the air. Kaito stood before Albryst, still trembling from the revelation that his long, lonely training had not been meaningless.
The god's silver gaze lingered on him, thoughtful and patient. Then Albryst spoke, his voice deep and commanding yet warm like a teacher guiding a student.
"Kaito Arisawa," he said, "before you enter the new world, there is a decision you must make. You will need power—something that reflects your soul. Tell me… what kind of ability do you desire?"
Kaito blinked, stunned by the question. "…You mean, I get to choose?"
Albryst nodded slowly. "Yes. That is the law of summoning. Every chosen mortal is offered a gift—a blessing shaped by their heart. Many before you have chosen magic. After all, your original world has none. To wield fire, lightning, or healing—these are temptations that most cannot resist."
The god's lips curved in a knowing smile. "And what of you, Kaito? Do you desire the arcane? Or do you seek something else?"
Kaito's mind whirled. Magic. Of course, it was the obvious choice. Every anime, every light novel he had ever read, every game he had played—it was always magic that dazzled people. Fireballs, teleportation, lightning storms. The kind of things that made ordinary people into legends.
But then… his gaze fell to his hands. Calloused palms. Fingers hardened from years of gripping a sword. His muscles remembered the ache of endless repetition.
"…Magic, huh?" he muttered. "Yeah… that would be amazing. But… if I pick magic, wouldn't all my years of sword training go to waste?"
He clenched his fists. Images flickered in his mind—himself, alone in the park, swinging until his arms went numb, the voices of mockery in the background. Crazy sword freak.Waste of time.Get a life.
No. He couldn't throw that away.
He lifted his head, eyes sharp with determination. "If I take only magic, it'll make my sword meaningless. And if I take only the sword, I'll be limited. But… what if…"
Before answering, another thought nagged at him. "Wait. You said you've summoned people before me. Are they… still alive?"
Albryst raised an eyebrow, then nodded. "Yes. At this time, only two remain."
Kaito's eyes widened. "Only two? Out of how many?"
"Many," Albryst said calmly. "But most failed, or perished. Summoning is not a guarantee of survival. Even the strong can fall."
"…I see." Kaito swallowed. "And those two… what kind of powers did they choose?"
"Both," Albryst said with faint amusement, "chose to be magicians. They craved the wonder of sorcery. To them, wielding fire and lightning was proof of being chosen."
Kaito frowned. "And… are they strong now?"
The god chuckled. "They are still alive, which is an achievement in itself. But I will say this—magic, while powerful, is not easily mastered. Those who are given the talent by me have it easier than normal humans, but even then, true mastery requires intellect, discipline, and creativity. Most magicians overestimate themselves."
Kaito thought carefully. "…So magic is powerful, but it's also dangerous if you rely on it too much."
"Correct," Albryst said. "Many of the arrogant ones who demanded magic were swallowed by their own hubris. Only two remain after two years in that world. Survivors, but not conquerors."
Kaito exhaled. "…I see. That makes sense."
Silence stretched for a moment. Kaito closed his eyes. The choice weighed heavy, but deep down, the answer was already there.
He opened his eyes again, sharp and unwavering. "I've decided."
Albryst leaned forward slightly, intrigued. "Oh? And what is your choice?"
Kaito took a deep breath. "I want to be a Magic Swordsman."
The god's eyes widened slightly, genuine surprise flickering across his perfect features. "…A Magic Swordsman?"
"Yes." Kaito's voice was firm. "If I choose only magic, all my years of swinging the sword would be for nothing. But if I choose only the sword, I'll be limited against enemies who can cast spells. So I'll combine them. I'll fight with both. I'll master both. I'll wield magic through my blade, and my blade will guide my magic."
For a moment, silence.
Then, slowly, a smile spread across Albryst's face. A smile of pride, like a teacher watching his student find the right path.
"You truly are… remarkable," the god murmured. "Most would choose the easy road, dazzled by fireballs and lightning. But you—your resolve is different. You refuse to abandon what you have built, yet you embrace the future. A swordsman who does not reject magic, and a mage who does not fear steel."
Albryst chuckled. "Kaito Arisawa… you are indeed worthy."
"Very well," the god said, lifting his hand. His palm shone with radiant light. "I grant you the blessing of the Magic Swordsman."
Kaito barely had time to react before his body was engulfed in brilliance.
"Wh-what—!?" His body felt like it was on fire, yet not painful—more like energy flooding every fiber of his being. His veins pulsed with warmth. His muscles felt stronger, sharper, as if they had been reforged.
Symbols of light spun around him in glowing circles—intricate runes that shifted and fused, patterns of both sword and spell. The glow seeped into his skin, marking him faintly with a crest over his heart—a silver-blue emblem shaped like a sword crossing through a circle of runes.
Kaito gasped, clenching his fists. Strength surged through his arms. His senses sharpened. He could feel something new—an undercurrent of energy flowing through him, invisible yet undeniable.
"…This… this is mana," he whispered, eyes wide. "I can feel it… flowing inside me…"
His wooden sword was gone, but in its place a new weapon materialized in his hands. A sleek blade with a faint glow along its edge, humming with hidden power. It wasn't just steel—it was a vessel for both swordsmanship and sorcery.
He raised it slightly, and as if answering his will, sparks of blue light danced along the blade. His heart pounded in awe.
"This… this is the power I dreamed of," he whispered. "The power of both sword and magic…"
Albryst observed him, his expression proud. "Do you see now, Kaito? Your years of training were not wasted. They prepared your body for the sword. And now, your soul carries the flame of magic. Together, you are reborn as something rare—something extraordinary."
Kaito lowered the sword slightly, his hands still trembling. His lips curved into a smile that was half disbelief, half joy.
"…I really… I really did it," he said, his voice breaking. "I've dreamed of this for so long. To swing my sword not in vain, but with purpose. To fight monsters, to protect, to… to live for something. And now… now I can."
Albryst placed a hand on his shoulder, firm and reassuring. "You are ready. More ready than most who came before you. The path ahead will not be easy, Kaito Arisawa. But you—of all people—are prepared for struggle."
Kaito looked up, determination burning in his eyes. "I won't waste this chance. I'll use everything I have. Sword and magic—both. I'll carve my own path."
The god's smile widened. "Good. That is what I wished to hear."
Light began to gather around Kaito again, softer this time, wrapping him like a cocoon. The air trembled with energy.
"This blessing is complete," Albryst said. "Now, it is time. Time for you to step into the world you have longed for."
Kaito's heart thundered. He gripped his new blade tightly.
"The fantasy world… it's finally here," he whispered.
Albryst's voice echoed as the light engulfed everything. "Go forth, Magic Swordsman. Show this world the worth of your blade. And never forget—your swings were never meaningless."
Kaito closed his eyes, smiling through the blinding glow.
"…Thank you, Albryst."
And then, in a flash of light, he was gone.