The thing in my hands was still twitching.
I bit down harder, teeth—my teeth, though I barely recognized them anymore—tearing through cartilage and sinew. The meat was cold, gelatinous, tasting like copper and rotting flowers. My stomach convulsed, threatening to reject it, but I forced myself to swallow.
[SYNTHESIS SUCCESSFUL: PHASE WRAITH ESSENCE ABSORBED]
[INTANGIBILITY (3 SECONDS) ACQUIRED]
[MENTAL EROSION: 34% COMPLETE]
The blue text flickered across my vision, sterile and informative, as I crouched in absolute darkness. Somewhere above—maybe a mile, maybe ten—was sunlight. Laughter. The classmates who'd smiled as they kicked me into this abyss.
My hands were covered in something that used to be blood before I changed it. The notification chimed again, patient and merciless.
[EMOTIONAL SPECTRUM REDUCED]
[FEAR RESPONSE: DIMINISHED]
[EMPATHY INDEX: CRITICAL]
I didn't feel afraid anymore. I didn't feel much of anything.
Good.
Three Months Earlier
The summoning circle burned with light that had no business existing in a Tokyo classroom.
I was face-down on the floor, chemistry textbook still clutched in my hand, when the world stopped making sense. One moment, I'd been dozing through Yamada-sensei's lecture on molecular bonds. The next, geometric patterns erupted across the floor in white-gold fire, and thirty-one students were screaming.
"What the—" Daisuke Himura's voice cut through the chaos, steady even in crisis. Of course it did. He was class president, kendo captain, the guy everyone looked to when things went wrong. "Everyone, stay calm!"
Calm. Right.
The light intensified until I couldn't see anything but white. My skin felt like it was being peeled away, layer by layer, every atom in my body catalogued and disassembled. Then—
Thud.
Stone. Cold, ancient stone beneath my cheek.
I opened my eyes to vaulted ceilings fifty feet high, held up by pillars carved with images of angels and demons locked in eternal combat. Stained glass windows depicted armored figures striking down horned monstrosities. Braziers burned with flames that gave off no smoke.
We weren't in Tokyo anymore.
"Welcome, Heroes of the Prophecy!"
The voice boomed through the chamber, and I struggled to sit up, head spinning. A man in ornate white robes stood before an altar, arms spread wide. His beard was long and silver, his eyes blazed with zealot fervor, and on his head sat a circlet that pulsed with magic I could somehow feel pressing against my skin.
Behind him, knights in full plate armor stood at attention. Behind them, more robed figures—priests, I realized—watched us with expressions ranging from hope to hunger.
"I am High Priest Aldous of the Holy Kingdom of Astoria," the man continued. "You have been summoned by the grace of the Six Gods to save our world from annihilation!"
Silence. Then—
"What the fuck?" That was Kenji Sato, our class delinquent, always good for breaking the tension. "Did you just— did you kidnap us?"
"Not kidnapped, young hero. Chosen." Aldous smiled, beatific. "Our world faces destruction at the hands of Demon King Valgoreth. His armies sweep across the land, burning villages, slaughtering innocents. The Gods heard our prayers and reached across dimensions to bring forth champions who might stand against him."
I watched Daisuke pull himself to his feet, helping up Ayaka Shimizu—our class's Madonna, beautiful and kind, always volunteering, always smiling. She clutched his arm, eyes wide with fear that somehow made her look even more ethereal.
"This is insane," Ryota Tanaka muttered beside me. "We need to go home. I have entrance exams in three months."
But even as he said it, I saw the gleam in his eyes. The same gleam I saw spreading across half the class's faces.
This was every light novel they'd ever read. Every isekai anime they'd binged. They'd been chosen. They were special.
"Before we begin," Aldous raised his hands, and magic circles appeared beneath each of us—intricate, beautiful, terrifying, "we must assess your divine gifts. Please, do not be alarmed."
The circles flared. Information poured into my mind, alien and overwhelming, like having cold water injected directly into my brain. I gasped, and suddenly I could see it—a translucent screen hovering in my vision, filled with text.
[HERO STATUS INITIALIZED]
[NAME: KAI ASHFORD]
[LEVEL: 1]
[CLASS: SYNTHESIST]
[UNIQUE SKILL: SYNTHESIS (E-RANK)]
[DESCRIPTION: COMBINE TWO MATERIALS TO CREATE A THIRD. SUCCESS RATE: 12%]
I stared at the screen. Then, at the excited shouts erupting around me.
"ARCHMAGE! I'm an S-Rank Archmage!" Yuki Nakamura was practically glowing, lightning crackling between her fingers.
"Holy Knight, SSS-tier skill: Divine Arsenal!" Daisuke's smile was brilliant as a sword of pure light materialized in his hand.
"Dragon Tamer! Oh my god, I can contract with dragons!" Hiroshi Kojima laughed with delight.
More shouts. More displays of power. Fire, ice, holy light, shadow manipulation. The chamber filled with the carnival of newfound godhood.
I looked back at my screen.
Synthesis. E-Rank.
"Now, now, let us see what the Gods have granted!" Aldous moved through the crowd, a priest following with a ledger, recording each student's class and skill. His smile grew wider with each S-tier, each A-rank blessing.
Then he reached me.
"And you, young man?" He peered at my status screen—apparently, priests could see them too. His smile faltered. "Ah. I see. A… Synthesist."
The way he said it. Like he'd found a hair in his soup.
"Is that good?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"It's… supportive." Aldous's voice dripped with forced cheer. "Very useful for, ah, crafting. Combining materials. You'll be invaluable for… logistics."
Behind him, I saw the recording priest grimace. He leaned close to Aldous, whispering, but I caught the words:
"—another dud. Third summoning in a row with at least one F-tier. The ritual's degrading—"
"Silence." Aldous's voice was sharp. Then, louder, addressed to the class: "Each of you has been blessed according to the Gods' wisdom! Combat classes, support classes—all are needed in the war to come!"
But I saw the disappointment in his eyes when he looked at me.
I saw something else, too. In Daisuke's expression as he glanced my way. In Ayaka's pitying smile. In the way, Kenji snorted and turned away.
I'd been invisible in Tokyo—average grades, average looks, no clubs, no friends really. Just… there.
Here, in a world of magic and prophecy, I was somehow even less.
That night, we were given rooms in the palace—luxurious suites with four-poster beds and windows overlooking a city of white stone and red-tile roofs. A fantasy kingdom pulled straight from a storybook.
I sat on my bed, staring at my hands.
[SYNTHESIS (E-RANK)]
[CURRENT UNDERSTANDING: 2%]
[SUGGESTED PRACTICE: COMBINE SIMPLE MATERIALS TO INCREASE PROFICIENCY]
I picked up a stick of charcoal from the writing desk and a piece of parchment. Activated the skill.
My hands moved on their own, guided by knowledge I didn't possess five minutes ago. The materials glowed, merged, twisted—
And exploded in a puff of black smoke.
[SYNTHESIS FAILED]
[MATERIALS DESTROYED]
I coughed, waving away the smoke. Tried again with a candle and a piece of wax—same result.
[SYNTHESIS FAILED]
Again. And again. And again.
By the time the sun set, I'd destroyed thirty different material combinations and successfully created exactly one thing: a slightly harder piece of wax that smelled wrong.
[SYNTHESIS SUCCESSFUL: MINOR WAX COMPOUND CREATED]
[SKILL PROFICIENCY: 2.1%]
A knock at my door made me jump.
"Kai? You in there?" Daisuke's voice, friendly and warm.
I opened the door. He stood there in new clothes—fantasy world garb that looked like it was tailored specifically for him. Beside him, Ayaka smiled that gentle smile.
"Hey, we're having a meeting in the common room," Daisuke said. "Talking about training schedules, party formations, that kind of thing. You should come."
I glanced down at my soot-stained hands. "Yeah. Sure."
The common room was packed. Thirty students clustered in groups, already forming cliques based on their skills. The combat classes dominated the center—Daisuke, Yuki, Hiroshi, and others, comparing abilities. Support classes gathered at the edges—healers, enchanters, a guy whose class was literally "Chef" but with A-rank cooking skills.
I found a seat in the back.
"Alright, everyone!" Daisuke called for attention, a natural leader that he was. "I know this is crazy. We've been literally kidnapped to another world." Nervous laughter. "But these people need our help. There's a Demon King threatening innocent lives. We have powers now—real powers. I think… I think we have a responsibility to try."
Murmurs of agreement. Some reluctance, sure, but I saw the excitement too—the hunger.
They wanted to be heroes.
"The priests are setting up training starting tomorrow," Daisuke continued. "Combat classes will dungeon dive for levels. Support classes will train in their specialties. We'll form balanced parties, watch each other's backs." His eyes swept the room, landing on me for a moment. "Everyone has a role. Everyone matters."
Applause. Plans. Excitement.
I slipped out before the meeting ended.
Three weeks later, I understood my place in this world.
I was assigned to the "logistics corps"—which meant I cleaned weapons, organized supplies, and practiced my useless skill in the crafting workshops while my classmates leveled up in dungeons.
The bullying started small. "Accidents."
Daisuke's group "accidentally" knocked into me in the training yard, sending my lunch flying.
"Oh, sorry Kai! Didn't see you there. You're so quiet."
Kenji "accidentally" destroyed the wax sculptures I'd spent hours synthesizing for practice.
"My bad, bro. Thought they were trash."
Ayaka offered sympathy that felt like acid.
"It must be so hard, being support class. But you're doing important work! Everyone needs clean swords, right?" That smile. That pitying, condescending smile.
I took it. What choice did I have?
In Tokyo, I was nobody. Here, at least, I had a purpose, even if that purpose was being the class loser.
[SYNTHESIS PROFICIENCY: 8%]
[SKILL EVOLUTION: LOCKED]
[REQUIREMENTS NOT MET]
I practiced anyway. Combined metals, woods, stones. Failed seventy percent of the time. The other thirty percent, I created marginally better materials that the blacksmiths regarded with polite confusion.
"It's… harder iron?" the smith said, examining my work. "But not better enough to matter, lad."
One month in, the King announced the first mandatory dungeon raid.
Every hero. No exceptions.
I remember the way Daisuke's hand felt on my shoulder in the armory, the night before the dive. Friendly. Warm.
"You ready, Kai?"
I wasn't. But I nodded anyway.
"Good." His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just stay close to the group. Let us handle the combat. You'll be fine."
Something in his voice made my skin crawl.
I should have run.
Instead, I followed them into the Scarlet Catacombs.
And into the Abyss.