The Grand Summoning Hall of the Arkanian Empire pulsed with raw energy. Golden runes glowed on the marble floor, casting eerie shadows as the magi chanted in unison. The scent of burning incense mixed with the electric hum of magic.
At the center of it all, Emperor Julius Arkan sat upon his golden throne, his sharp gaze locked onto the magic circle.
This was the empire's greatest gamble.
After years of preparation, after countless sacrifices—today, they would summon a Hero.
A warrior chosen by the gods.
A surge of blinding light erupted from the circle. The air trembled, forcing even the knights to avert their eyes. The temperature in the room dropped as reality itself bent.
Then—silence.
As the light faded, a lone figure stood in the center of the summoning circle.
A young man.
His ragged, torn clothing clung to his frame, stained with dust and old blood. His dark hair was unkempt, his face haggard—but it was his eyes that unsettled the room.
They weren't confused. They weren't frightened.
They were empty.
As if he had already seen the end of the world.
The High Priestess stepped forward, her voice carefully measured. "You stand in the capital of the Arkanian Empire, the greatest nation of this world."
She gestured toward the Emperor.
"You have been summoned here to defeat the Demon King."
The young man didn't react at first. Then, his fists clenched.
"…The Demon King," he muttered. His voice was hoarse, strained.
The Emperor narrowed his eyes. "You have faced him before."
A heavy silence fell over the hall. The summoned Heroes of the past had always come from peaceful worlds. But this one?
The Hero exhaled, slow and controlled.
"My world is gone," he whispered. His voice was barely above a breath. "He took everything. Left nothing but ashes."
A murmur spread through the nobles. Even the knights stiffened.
The High Priestess hesitated, then said, "Your people may be lost, but their will remains. The final energy of your world has blessed you, chosen you to be its last hope."
At those words, something changed.
The very air shook.
A golden glow spread across the Hero's skin, pulsing with ancient power. The final blessing of a dying world.
The Emperor's lips curled into a smirk.
"And your name?"
The Hero lifted his head. His voice was steady now, filled with a cold, unwavering resolve.
"…Leonhart."
A silence stretched before the Emperor finally spoke.
"The world may have lost one kingdom," he said, rising from his throne, "but today, it has gained a Hero."
Knights dropped to one knee. Nobles bowed.
The Hero had arrived.
And the war against the Demon King had truly begun.
---
Noah's Awakening
Noah stirred awake to the scent of lavender and the distant rustling of fabric.
"Good morning, Young Lord!"
A bright, cheerful voice pulled him from sleep. He turned his head slightly, adjusting to the dim morning light.
Standing beside his bed was a girl with short auburn hair and bright green eyes, dressed in the black-and-white uniform of the Valmont household maids.
Emily.
Noah's memories told him she was his personal maid—one of the few people in this house who actually smiled at him.
She grinned as he blinked at her.
"You slept so soundly, I was starting to wonder if you planned to ignore breakfast entirely," she teased.
Noah sat up slowly. His body still ached from battle, but it was manageable. "Is it morning already?"
Emily placed a tray on the table. "It would have been a wonderful morning if you hadn't scared the life out of us by returning all bloodied yesterday."
Noah raised an eyebrow. "You? Worried about me?"
She huffed, crossing her arms. "Of course! You're my Young Lord. If anything happens to you, who else will pretend not to listen when I ramble?"
A small chuckle escaped him. Emily was different.
Unlike the cold respect from knights or the hidden motives of nobles, she treated him like a person.
He rose and moved to the table. The breakfast was simple—fresh bread, a soft-boiled egg, and a steaming cup of black tea.
Emily watched as he picked up the bread, her eyes subtly studying his expression.
"Feeling better today?"
He nodded, chewing thoughtfully. "Better than yesterday."
"That's a relief," she said, hands resting behind her back. "I was thinking about sneaking some honey into your tea if you still looked pale."
Noah smirked. "Poisoning me first thing in the morning? How bold."
Emily giggled. "You'd survive."
Noah sipped his tea, watching her closely. There was genuine warmth in her eyes—a rarity in House Valmont.
Admiration.
She wasn't just serving him because of duty. Somewhere along the line, Emily had come to care for him.
He leaned back, considering his next words. In a house full of wolves, an ally like her was invaluable.
He placed his cup down. "Emily."
She blinked. "Yes?"
"Thank you."
Emily froze. Her green eyes widened, and for once, she looked completely stunned. A faint blush dusted her cheeks.
"…W-What for?" she stammered.
"For worrying about me," he said simply.
For a moment, she just stood there, looking utterly flustered. Then, suddenly, she spun around, clutching the sides of her skirt.
"Ugh! You can't just say things like that so casually, Young Lord!"
Noah smirked. "Why not?"
"Because—! Because—!" She stomped her foot lightly. "Just eat your breakfast!"
With that, she practically fled from the room, leaving Noah with a small, amused smile.
In this life, allies were few and far between.
And whether she realized it or not, Emily had just secured her place as one of his.