Akira, as usual, had failed to win a karaoke contest at the local J-Fest in Pekalongan. "They just don't appreciate art," he grumbled, the deep scowl on his face a familiar mask of defeat. After taking a few obligatory photos with cosplayers he knew, he stormed home.
A searing, unexpected pain hit his skull the moment he stepped inside. He ate his lunch—a bowl of instant noodles—took some medicine, and then passed out. He faintly registered a voice in his sleep, a whisper that vanished entirely upon waking.
The sky was now pitch-dark, but a quick scroll through Instagram brought an alert: a blood moon was happening tonight.
A primal shiver ran through him. A powerful, terrifying gut feeling screamed that this was it—the night the world changed.
He forced the dread down, retreating to his PC and booting up Pokémon Dark Era, a highly-rated Open World MMORPG. He designed his character—Akira, Male, Age 20—a lean, idealized version of himself.
"Name: Akira. Gender: M. Age: 20," he muttered, noting the unusual age setting.
He plunged into the game, determined to forget the ominous sky and the unspoken dread in his stomach.
The game was frustratingly difficult. "DAMN! This game is really hard," he lamented. He failed to catch a simple Caterpie, realizing he needed to weaken or entice Pokémon first. His meager newbie pack—two Poké Balls, a biscuit, and a potion—offered little help. He scoured streamer advice and found the loophole, a small smile spreading across his face as he prepared to implement his strategy.
Then, the world shattered.
The lights died. The world outside the window flared an ominous, deep, unsettling red. "What the heck is happening?"
Suddenly, a mind-splitting pain shot through his head, dropping him instantly. Across the globe, everyone between 18 and 40 fell unconscious, clutching their skulls. The world went silent, save for the terrifying screech of unpiloted cars and the final, horrifying sounds of plummeting planes.
The mass blackout and global unconsciousness plunged Earth into absolute panic. For two long, terrifying hours, the world held its breath.
Akira awoke past midnight, his body drenched in sweat. A floating, digital message shimmered before his face:
[Congratulations, you have passed the screening test for a Universal War. Universal War is a game designed by the Celestial. All Candidates must be ready for the battle against the omniverse. Please stand by for your specialization rite. It's Gacha Time.]
He was frozen in disbelief. A digital slot machine materialized before him, spinning wildly, eventually resolving into an incredible combination of symbols:
[Congratulation you got a Summoner as your specialization. As a Summoner, once a day you can summon everything and anything in the entire omniverse. Everything based on luck.]
The voice, cold and detached, continued:
[The truth is, the Earth was under attack. The Blood Moon was a century-old sign, calling invaders from across the omniverse. The world's true source, the 'Roots', is mounting a last-ditch defense, empowering those aged 18 to 40, giving them the ability to fight back. They will be sent to various Dungeon-like places to train their ability. It will begin with a Trial that will happen in an hour, so prepare everything you need.]
The chilling finality of the announcement hung in the air, but Akira's immediate terror was quickly overtaken by a bizarre sense of obligation. The clock was ticking—one hour. He had to prepare, and preparation meant testing this absurd new power.
He stared at the floating text, the words "once a day" burning into his vision. "Summon everything and anything in the entire omniverse... based on luck," he muttered, the absurdity of it barely sinking in.
Taking a deep, trembling breath, he focused his will on the floating message, mentally confirming the use of his new ability.
A blinding flash of light erupted from his hand, quickly dissipating to reveal a mechanism identical to the slot machine from the specialization rite. It spun for only a second, the digital images blurring into streaks of color, before snapping to a halt.
Instead of a symbol or a class, a physical object materialized in his palm, shimmering with faint golden energy.
It was a card—sleek, obsidian black, and etched with elaborate, unfamiliar arcane script. The image on the card was a stunning, ethereal young woman with one crimson eye and one gold clock-face eye, her expression a mix of dangerous elegance and unsettling calm.
Akira read the text beneath the portrait, his voice barely a whisper:
[Sealed Spirit Card: Tokisaki Kurumi (Spirit of Time)]
His jaw dropped. He recognized the name instantly. A character from an anime, an incomparably powerful and utterly terrifying being.
"No way," he breathed, a nervous, almost manic laugh escaping him. "Out of the entire omniverse... I get her? My luck is either incredible or utterly cursed."
The cold voice immediately cut through his shock, offering an explanation he didn't realize he needed:
[Summon Confirmation: First daily summon successful. The object is a Spirit Seal Card. This card contains the essence and core powers of the Sealed Entity. To complete the summon, the user must choose to release the seal. Warning: Sealed beings may not be inherently loyal.]
Akira clutched the card, the sleek surface warm against his damp palm. He had the power of Time sealed in his hand. The dread of the coming Trial suddenly felt a little less suffocating.
He had a terrifying, reality-bending trump card. The first summon had been a success, a monstrous, impossible, and utterly game-changing success.
Akira tucked the Tokisaki Kurumi card safely into his pocket—a devastating option that he wouldn't deploy without a guaranteed containment strategy. Her madness, her power, and her sheer unpredictability were not risks he could take when his life, and potentially the world, was on the line.
"Okay. Weapons," he resolved, looking around his messy room. "I need anything better than a rusty spoon."
He focused his mind again, attempting to trigger his Summoner ability, fully expecting the cold digital voice to remind him of the "once a day" rule.
Instead, the familiar burst of light erupted from his hand, and the digital slot machine instantly materialized.
[ALERT: System Override. Due to imminent Trial difficulty exceeding initial calibration, Summoner Daily Limit temporarily bypassed. Remaining summons for this preparation phase: 2.]
Akira blinked. "Well, thank you, Celestial AI! Maybe someone up there does appreciate art," he quipped, a shard of his old, sarcastic self cutting through the terror.
He didn't hesitate. He willed the Gacha to spin, focusing intensely on the idea of a weapon—something practical, powerful, and easy to use.
The machine spun and clicked, stopping on a symbol that flashed brilliantly: a stylized image of a heavy, glowing blade.
A magnificent sword materialized, clattering onto his desk. It was a katana, its blade impossibly sharp and radiating a faint blue, steady light. The hilt was wrapped in dark leather, and the guard was a simple, elegant circle. A new message followed:
[Weapon Summoned: Blue Haze Katana. Tier 2. Highly durable blade with passive light affinity. Effective against spectral and dark entities. Note: User proficiency required for maximum effect.]
Akira snatched the sword, the weight and balance feeling surprisingly natural. He gave it a few tentative swings, the blue light slicing harmlessly through the air.
"Perfect. Much better than a spoon."
He had one last summon. Given the immense stakes, he briefly considered summoning something mundane, like supplies or armor, but the thrill of the Gacha was intoxicating. He chose to roll the dice one last time for power.
He focused on the final summon, simply thinking: Give me something powerful, but maybe less insane than Kurumi.
The slot machine spun a third time, the gears grinding with digital finality before revealing another Sealed Character Card.
A sense of pure, ancient power emanated from the resulting card. It depicted a woman in elegant, voluminous purple attire, holding a characteristic pink parasol, her eyes closed in a knowing, almost mischievous smile. The background was an impossible, shifting landscape of boundaries and gaps.
Akira's blood ran cold as he read the title.
[Sealed Spirit Card: Yakumo Yukari (Youkai of Boundaries)]
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Akira groaned, running a hand through his hair. "The most powerful, most effortlessly dangerous being in her entire setting. A literal reality-warper. Yukari Yakumo? I've gone from a Time Spirit to a Boundary Youkai."
He now held two cards, two sealed forces of nature—one of time, one of reality itself—each capable of shredding the omniverse, and both requiring a level of control and loyalty he simply didn't possess yet.
Akira looked at the clock on his PC: 37 minutes until the Trial. He was armed with a blue glowing sword and two apocalyptic tickets to reality-breaking madness.
"Right," he sighed, shoving the Yukari card next to Kurumi's. "Time to figure out how to survive an invasion with a slightly unstable Tier 2 sword."