Rain poured heavily the night Ren died.
But before that, he was just a normal guy.
Ren Takasumi, 21, a quiet university student from Tokyo, had no grand ambitions. He liked late-night ramen, old RPG games, and staring out his apartment window, wondering if life would ever feel... meaningful.
Then he was taken.
A blinding light had swallowed his room whole one evening. When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in his cluttered apartment, but on a cold marble floor, surrounded by robed mages chanting in a foreign tongue. He had been summoned.
"Hero," they called him. "Savior of this world."
Confused and scared, Ren wanted nothing more than to go home. But the King promised: defeat the Demon Lord, and he'd be returned to Earth. Simple.
He trained. He learned their language, their magic, their customs. And he was powerful—unnaturally so. Healing, light manipulation, energy regeneration—it all came easily. Too easily. They said he was "blessed by the gods."
He was never alone. He fought alongside five companions—champions of different races and skills. Over time, they became his comrades, his only ties to this world.
The Party of Six:
Reika Hoshigawa – The Saint. A woman of divine beauty with long silver hair and eyes like soft moonlight. She wore white robes that shimmered with holy light and carried a serene expression that comforted even the dying. Ren admired her. She spoke gently, prayed constantly, and smiled like she belonged in heaven.
Arin Durel – The Elven Mage. Cold, analytical, with long emerald hair and golden irises that never blinked twice. She barely spoke, but when she did, her words cut like sharpened steel. Her magic was elegant and devastating.
Gorim Ironbraid – The Dwarf Warrior. Gruff, loud, and covered in iron plate thicker than his beard. He fought with twin axes and laughed like a drunk old uncle. But there was wisdom in his rage.
Kaido Ishikura – The Archer. Human, like Ren, but born of this world. Lean and sharp-eyed, he trusted no one, not even himself. His arrows never missed, and his silence was louder than any scream.
Mira Kazehana – The Rogue Mage. Mischievous, cunning, with short purple hair and tattoos that glowed when she cast. She smiled with half-truths and flirted with death every battle. She claimed to be loyal—but to what, no one knew.
After three years of battle, pain, and triumph, they reached the Demon Lord's citadel. And they won.
Ren stood over the dying Demon Lord, blood-soaked and breathless, as lightning split the sky. The world, finally, was saved.
He turned to his party with a weary smile. "It's over."
That's when someone stabbed him through the heart.
He never saw who.
His eyes widened. His knees buckled. His healing magic kicked in—but it was blocked. A curse? A seal? It didn't matter.
He collapsed to the cold stone floor, hearing distant footsteps walk away. No one came back. No one called his name.
He had saved their world.
And they left him to die.
Thirteen Years Later...
A crypt deep beneath the mountains trembled.
The earth split.
From the shattered coffin, a figure stepped out, naked and drenched in dried blood, eyes glowing faintly with power.
Ren was no longer human.
He no longer bled warmth or kindness.
He looked to the sky with empty eyes.
"I kept my promise," he whispered. "Now it's your turn."
Rain fell again, like that night. But this time, it wouldn't wash away betrayal.