Taro Mikami stared at the blinking "FINAL NOTICE" email on his phone, slumped against the peeling wallpaper of his one-room apartment.
The faint smell of instant ramen and despair filled the air. The rent was overdue — again.
"Three months. They can't evict me for three months, right?" he muttered, scratching at his perpetually unshaven jaw.
The landlord, Mrs. Tanaka, had left a voicemail earlier that morning, her voice sharp enough to slice through steel. He ignored it, just like the last five.
On the table beside him, an unopened anime figurine sat next to a stack of unpaid bills. He picked it up, turning the box over in his hands.
"Limited edition…" he murmured wistfully. Selling it might buy him a few more days, but Taro's attachment to trivial things outweighed his attachment to adult responsibilities.
The hum of Tokyo's evening traffic outside was comforting, but it couldn't drown out the gnawing sense of failure creeping up his spine.
Twenty-four years old, unemployed, barely scraping by, and too proud to call his parents for help. This was not the life he'd envisioned when he'd been in high school not too long ago.
Taro let out a long sigh and slumped onto his futon, phone still in hand.
He swiped through social media absentmindedly, pausing to watch a video of a cosplay competition. A glimmer of admiration flickered in his chest, but it was fleeting.
"Maybe in another life," he muttered, closing his eyes.
The room grew unusually quiet, save for the faint hum of an appliance in the kitchen. Then, with a sound like shattering glass, a blinding light engulfed the room.
"What the hell?!" Taro scrambled backward, knocking over an empty cup of instant ramen.
His heart raced as the air seemed to split open in front of him. A swirling vortex of colors formed, crackling with energy.
Before he could even process what was happening, a voice boomed from within the rift — a woman's voice, deep and commanding.
"Taro Mikami. The chosen one. You have been summoned to Aerthos!"
"Chosen one?" Taro blinked, his brain struggling to catch up. "There must be some mistake!"
The rift didn't seem interested in his protests. Tendrils of light shot out, wrapping around his arms and legs.
"Wait, wait, wait! I'm not hero material! I can't even — "
With a deafening crack, the vortex yanked him forward, and the world around him dissolved into blinding light.
Taro landed hard on something rough and cold.
Groaning, he pushed himself up, wincing as he brushed dirt from his face.
His first observation: he was no longer in Tokyo.
The sky above him was a shade of lavender, with streaks of gold and crimson bleeding through the clouds.
The air smelled of fresh grass and something unfamiliar — like rain and static mixed together. He was surrounded by a sprawling meadow, dotted with wildflowers that shimmered faintly in the twilight.
"Where… am I?" he muttered, trying to ignore the ache in his back.
"You're in Aerthos," came the same commanding voice from earlier.
Taro turned sharply, his jaw dropping. Standing before him was a woman unlike anyone he'd ever seen.
Her hair was silver, flowing like liquid silk, and her emerald eyes seemed to pierce straight into his soul.
She wore flowing robes that shifted like clouds, and the air around her seemed alive, swirling softly with every movement she made.
"Who are you?" he stammered, taking a cautious step back.
"I am Aeris, the Old God of Wind," she replied, her voice carrying a faint echo.
"Old God? Okay, sure. And I'm the Prime Minister," Taro muttered under his breath, but the woman didn't laugh.
"You were summoned to fulfill the prophecy," Aeris continued, ignoring his sarcasm. "You are the Tamer Hero, chosen to restore balance to our world."
Taro blinked at her, then let out a dry laugh. "You've got the wrong guy. I'm not a hero. I'm an out-of-work loser who eats too much instant ramen and owes three months' rent."
Aeris raised an eyebrow, her gaze unyielding. "And yet, you are here. The Crest of Harmony does not choose lightly."
She gestured toward his right hand, and Taro glanced down. His eyes widened as he noticed a glowing mark etched into his skin — a swirling design that pulsed faintly with light.
"What the hell is this?!" He shook his hand as if that would make it go away. "Did you tattoo me while I wasn't looking?"
Aeris sighed, her patience clearly waning. "That is your proof of the bond. With it, you will gain the power to communicate with and tame the Old Gods, bringing peace to Aerthos."
"Tame?" he repeated, his voice rising. "What am I, some kind of elemental zookeeper?"
"Silence," Aeris said sharply, and a gust of wind blew past him, knocking him off balance. "Do not mock what you do not understand."
Taro groaned, brushing dirt off his pants. "Fine, whatever. Let's say I believe you. What exactly am I supposed to do?"
"You must pass my trial," Aeris said simply, crossing her arms.
"Trial?"
She nodded. "Each Old God has a trial to test your worth. Only by passing them can you gain our trust and access our power."
Taro opened his mouth to argue but stopped when he saw her expression. Her gaze was stern, but there was a flicker of something else — doubt, maybe even pain.
"What happens if I fail?" he asked cautiously.
Aeris's lips thinned. "Failure is not an option. Without you, Aerthos will fall to chaos."
'Great, no pressure,' Taro thought, running a hand through his messy hair. "So what's this trial of yours, then?"
Aeris extended her hand, and the wind around her intensified.
The ground beneath Taro's feet began to shift, and he looked around in alarm as the meadow faded away, replaced by a rocky plateau high above the clouds.
"Your trial," Aeris said, her voice carrying a note of challenge, "is to survive the Tempest."
Before Taro could respond, the sky darkened, and the wind howled.
Thunder cracked in the distance, and he felt his heart leap into his throat.
"Survive?" he yelled over the growing storm. "Define survive!"
Aeris smirked faintly, her hair whipping around her. "Good luck, Tamer Hero."
The first bolt of lightning struck, and Taro knew one thing for certain: he was completely and utterly screwed.