Chapter 1 — The Graveyard Shift
The intermittent beep of the cash register was the only sound breaking the silence of the convenience store.
Shiro Hanayatsu wiped the laminated counter for the third time. The digital clock above the entrance read 3:47 a.m.
Outside, the rain poured down over Tokyo, turning the headlights of the few passing cars into blurry yellow streaks.
His legs ached.
The heel of his left foot, pressed against the worn sole of a cheap sneaker, felt like it was burning after eight hours on his feet.
Shiro pulled his phone from the pocket of his uniform and opened his banking app.
Balance: ¥3,200.
It was barely enough to cover a week's worth of rice and the electricity bill for his tiny one-room apartment.
With a heavy sigh, Shiro put his phone away and brushed aside a strand of brown hair that stubbornly kept falling over his eyes.
He wasn't nineteen with dreams of going to college.
He was nineteen with nothing but the exhaustion of someone who had to worry about surviving until tomorrow.
Thirteen minutes left in his shift.
He tossed the rag into the bucket.
That was when the cash register's beeping suddenly stopped.
The fluorescent lights overhead flickered twice, buzzed like dying insects, and went out completely.
Darkness swallowed the store.
The silence that followed wasn't normal.
Even the sound of the heavy rain outside had disappeared.
“What's going on...?” Shiro muttered, reaching out into the darkness and feeling around for the counter. “A power outage? Seriously? Right now?”
A suffocating wave of heat struck his face.
It wasn't the broken air conditioner.
The smell of ozone and something resembling melted plastic filled the air within seconds, making his eyes sting.
The floor beneath his feet began to vibrate.
Golden cracks tore across the store's white linoleum floor.
They didn't break through the concrete beneath it.
Instead, they glowed with a strange geometric light, forming circles within circles, covered in ancient runes Shiro had never seen in his life.
Panic finally exploded in his chest.
He took a step backward, but his body staggered.
It felt as though gravity itself was failing.
The shelves around him began to shake.
Bottles of tea and bags of snacks floated several inches above the metal shelves.
Shiro tried to run toward the glass entrance, but his legs felt as though they were trapped in quicksand.
The air was ripped from his lungs, as if the oxygen itself were being sucked toward the center of the golden light.
Then something grabbed him.
An invisible force seized his back with brutal violence.
This didn't feel like some divine magical summoning.
It felt like a tear.
As if he had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and some cosmic rope had accidentally lassoed him.
The floor disappeared beneath his feet.
Golden light exploded around him, blinding his vision.
Then came the sensation of free-falling through an endless void.
Thud.
The impact against his ribs knocked the last bit of air from Shiro's lungs.
He rolled onto his side, coughing violently, his face striking a cold, polished stone floor that was almost unnaturally clean.
The smell of ozone was gone.
Now the air carried the scent of ancient incense and candle wax.
“We did it! The ritual... it worked!”
A trembling, breathless voice echoed from somewhere above him.
Shiro forced his eyes open, fighting against the dizziness.
The high plaster ceiling of the convenience store was gone.
In its place stood enormous stone arches, stained-glass windows filtering sunlight into the room, and towering pillars that looked as though they belonged in a medieval cathedral.
Three other people were slowly getting to their feet beside him.
A young man wearing an expensive athletic jacket.
A girl dressed in the uniform of an elite school.
And another young man with a firm, composed posture.
Unlike Shiro, who was covered in gray dust from the scorched floor of his former workplace, the three of them looked completely unharmed.
A faint blue mist was still dissipating around their bodies.
“Where... where are we?”
The schoolgirl's voice trembled between fear and awe.
Shiro tried to stand, supporting himself on his knees, but every muscle in his body protested.
His vision finally focused on what lay ahead.
Ten men dressed in white hooded robes were kneeling in a semicircle, gasping for breath, their hands pressed against the stone floor.
They were clearly exhausted.
It looked as though they had drained their very life force to make this happen.
At the top of a marble staircase stood a middle-aged man wearing a golden crown encrusted with rubies.
He watched them in silence.
Beside him, an elderly man holding a staff topped with a translucent crystal the size of a fist stepped forward.
The old man's eyes gleamed with almost fanatical anticipation.
“Welcome, Heroes from Another World.”
The High Priest's voice echoed throughout the temple, making the stone walls tremble.
“The Kingdom of Asteria calls upon your strength.”
He slowly descended the stairs, bringing the crystal closer to the group.
As it approached the first young man in line, the crystal began to pulse with a crimson light.
Shiro swallowed hard, shrinking into his torn convenience-store uniform.
He had no idea where he was.
He didn't understand what was happening.
But one thing was certain.
**The System was already preparing to decide his fate.**