In a large grass field that stretched farther than the human eye could comprehend a singular figure laid peacefully.

This figure was a male no older than 17 with blue hair, emerald green eyes, slightly feminine features, and two curvy ram-like horns adorned on his head.  

Silently the teenager gazed upon the sky, it's lavender hue bringing a sense of serenity to the man.

" I can't believe it's over" Solemnly stated the green-eyed male.

Ten years ago, when he was but a child of eight years, he and countless other children ranging from five to fourteen years of age suddenly found themselves in a world of swords and magic. No explanation, no reason, no anything. One moment they were living out their lives and the next they found themselves in a seemingly endless grassland surrounded by men and women in strange robes.

"Heroes" they were called. Those "destined" to defeat the demon lord of this world and lead it to a new era of prosperity.

These children who haven't experienced the real world let alone battle were meant to fight and kill beings the kingdoms of this world could not.

All the while, the evil, cruel, and sinister would target them with reckless abandon.

Thankfully they weren't defenseless.

A  "Power Growth Interface" or "PGI" for short, was given to each of them. This source kept track, allowed manipulation, and increased the growth rate of each individual. This ability, which came in the form of blue screens, was exclusive to heroes and gave them their much-needed edge. Upon uttering a command word these screens appeared at eye level.

Like children ought to be, many were excited. Particularly those with gaming or novel reading experience.  Talks of " being a protagonist", or " getting a harem" weren't uncommon from the older of the summoned.

A small smile graced the horned man's face at that last thought, only to scrunch up unpleasantly as he continued down memory lane.

Unfortunately, unlike the stories many read evil does not wait for good to get strong enough to face it.

He could remember it vividly even now.

The initial confusion as a sound reminiscent of the beating of wings reached their ears.  Dread filled the eyes of their summoners as they realized what it was. Panic slowly raised in the hearts of the summoned.

Then terror so horrible that it rooted them to their positions washed over them in waves as they saw the massive menacing Blood red dragon darting to their position.

Those that had brought them here had long since abandoned their "precious" heroes to save their own hides, however, it was only after the dragon, which looked at them with something akin to sick amusement,  had landed did the situation catch up to them.

But it was far too late then.

The rest of what happened was so fear-inducing that it still haunts the blue-haired man to this day.

Even still, he survived and grew stronger for it.

Battle after battle, war after war, and teacher after teacher. Years went by and he did his best to grow strong enough to face those responsible for the massacre he witnessed.

Then at the age of fourteen, he along with numerous "players" and other companions slew the Demon King and ended his reign of terror.

Tears were shed, words were said, and the dead were put to rest. Their journey was finally over, they could leave this world of constant conflict and battle for their old one. They could see their friends, families, and loved ones again.

Except it wasn't so easy.

No goddess was thanking them for their hard work before sending them off back to earth. No, "You Won", message at the end of their trials. Just them in an empty throne room with the rotting corpse of the Demon king.   

It took a week before the realization dawned on them that there was no leaving this world. That whatever beings had designed the summoning magic that brought them here cared not for their plights and tribulations, only for the end goal of ridding the world of the demon king.

Some cared little for this revelation, too young were they when summoned to truly miss their homeworld, while others simply were content with the lives they forged themselves in this realm.

Then some shut themselves off from the rest of the world to study ancient forms of power and magic for the chance to create the ability to take them back home.

But there were also those who in their desperation, or perhaps madness, found ways to contact the beings that looked over the various planes that made up this universe.  

Only they were sorely rejected the chance to return. Those summoned were to be " guardians of the realm" by the Gods decree.

It didn't take long for bitterness to form, bitterness that turned into hatred, and hatred that turned into loathing.

With such rage bubbling beneath the surface, it took barely any time at all before it reached a breaking point.

Thus another, more devastating war was fought. One against those who called themselves Gods.

War on a scale unbeknownst to this world of swords and magic was waged. Landforms were erased, deals were struck with beings' anti-thesis to gods, and countless were killed to weaken the divine might of the ascended.

Then he, along with the few remaining players, after two and a half years of conflict, put down the last God who stood in their way.

This time, however, there were no words to be said, no tears to be shed, and no dead to be put to rest.

With no Gods to divert their attempts at returning home, they poured all their power into one final spell, one that would open a gateway to Earth.

Yet, this, like all their other attempts, failed.

Instead, they brought something much worse than the Gods to their universe.

Outer Gods, The Ones Beyond, Great Old Ones, whatever you want to call them, had entered their plane of existence.

The battle that took place after couldn't be described in words lest those who knew risk madness.

Fortunately, after what was simultaneously years of battle and only a second of combat, they emerged victorious, but at great cost.

Many of the remaining players went mad with grief at the ultimate realization as to why the earth was inaccessible to them. Others simply ended their own existence.

However, it was the actions of one particular "player " that sealed this world's fate. This player was the oldest, wisest, and strongest of them.  They were the person all looked up to, the one who led the charge against the Demon King, Gods, and Old Ones.

But a person can only take so much before they break.  

Consumed with grief, the elder among the summoned became hellbent on destroying all of existence. If they could not have a home, all others would share their pain.

Together the remaining heroes could have put them down. But many, including the horned teen, simply felt tired of fighting, so they backed down, willing to let the world crumble away.

Some tried to fight them, but they were no match for the oldest's might.

Soon the Oldest began their rampage, wiping from existence entire sections of reality with their abilities.  

Already three-fourths of the job was done, now all that was left to do was wait.