Roland followed them until they reached a small settlement. There, a group of more than fifty people had gathered. Some looked glad, others confused—but the one most unsettled by it all was Roland himself.

He had been brought to this place without knowing a thing, and yet everyone looked at him as if he were something more.

Still, he didn't shrink back. He followed the two who had guided him until they brought him to a tent and stepped inside.

Three others stood within. One of them took the girl—Stella—away, while the remaining two turned their full attention to the boy, examining him closely at times even touching his face.

"You are the hero. Yes, I can see it clearly," came the voice of an older woman. Like many here, she was cloaked, but she removed her hood to inspect him more closely. Her features, once beautiful, now bore the signs of age and hardship.

"The spirits have blessed you. Now, you must train. Do that, and you will become as powerful as I have prophesied."

She released his face and turned to the man beside her.

"I hope so. My only son is probably dead, all so we could bring him here... Young man, what is your name?"

The man's voice was that of someone over forty or fifty. He, too, removed his cloak, revealing a presence that hinted at former authority. It wasn't just the thin crown he wore—it was the way he carried himself.

"I am Roland," the boy answered. "Now, care to explain why I'm here, why you're all in hiding… and what exactly these 'demons' are that you speak of?"

The king raised his hands, as if to calm him.

"I know, I know—sorry. Let's start slow. There's much to discuss: the world, your summoning, our position… but first, the basics. I am Halter Elstin, king of Elris, one of the last rulers who once held power in the old world. For nearly a decade now, we humans have been hunted by demons. They are our enemies. The very ones my forefathers summoned… eventually turned against us..."

Roland watched the man as he spoke. At first, his expression showed understanding—but it gradually shifted toward suspicion.

"So you're telling me they got out of hand, and now you want me to help you?" he said, voice growing sharper. "I can understand some parts of all this… but why me?"

The young man was far from ready to save anyone. He still had a life of his own to untangle—a burning rage that drove him to find and confront the two fraudulent family members who had left him in the state he was in now.

"We will help you, hero. We'll do all we can to make you strong. We'll give you land, gold… this world needs you," the oracle said, trying to sway him.

As for the king, he sighed and removed his crown.

"This is all I have that holds any real value, kid… How about it? I'll let you have it until I can pay you back. My people need your help. Hundreds, if not thousands, are being slaughtered to satisfy those damn demons. Help us, and I promise you—when all is done, we'll return you to your world with everything we can offer."

Roland stared at the golden crown, studded with various gleaming jewels. He was likely being handed something worth more than everything he'd ever lost—and then offered even more.

A flicker of greed stirred within him.

The idea of leaving everything behind on Earth began to surface. Maybe here, he could build something. Maybe here… he could become someone that mattered.

"Fine. Give it to me for now," he said, stepping forward. "As you said, you'll buy it back later, right? I hope you know what interest is. Now tell me—what are my powers? I want to see this 'hidden strength' you keep going on about."

The king, seeing the boy's change in tone, smiled, wondering if they had finally found their weapon. The one who could stand against the demons that ravaged his kingdom… killed his wife… and now, his son.

"Sure thing," the king said. "Let's start with a creature we just captured not too long ago. Kill it, and you should feel the power that lies within you, young hero."

Roland followed the man into a darkened chamber lined with cages. Each one held a different monster—grotesque things, nothing like the creatures he'd seen on Earth.

They looked like imps: small, red, and violently unstable. When two were placed in the same cage, they instantly turned on each other, fighting to the death.

"Demon spawns," the man explained. Monsters that were turned. You'll need to kill their master to destroy them all. But we managed to capture a few and sever them from their master's control. As you can see, without it, they become what stands before you."

He gestured at the cages.

"Now kill one. It should still have some residual mana from when it was only a monster."

Roland was handed a long spear. It was clear they didn't intend to put him in danger—the setup was designed for him to pierce the creature from a safe distance. The caged beasts didn't even show fear. They were too far gone, gnashing and biting at the air with wild, vacant eyes.

"Give them mercy, hero," the man said. "These are just puppets. In time, you'll have to kill far more tragic things than this."

The king edged him forward, guiding the spear near the creature's heart for a swift kill, then stepped back to let Roland decide.

The young man stared at the crazed look in the imp's eyes. He clenched his molars, then drove the spear forward.

It pierced the imp's flesh with ease. The creature convulsed violently, then fell still.

And that's when Roland felt it.

A surge of power flooded through him—something entirely foreign. It merged with a strange euphoria that promised to overwhelm him. The blessings of more than one great spirit converged on him at once, each one amplifying the sensation, boosting him faster than he could process. This content was first released on MV_LEMPYR.

He fell backward, landing hard. His hands pressed to the ground as he gasped for breath, trying to steady himself.

This… it hurts… but it also feels incredible…

The spirits, knowing human nature, had imbued the act of leveling up with pleasure, just enough to soften the pain, to keep it from deterring those destined to grow stronger. And now that Roland had tasted it, he didn't hesitate.

He picked up the spear and killed the next creature.

And the next.

With each kill, the sensation returned—intoxicating, addictive, and strengthening. His strikes grew faster, surer. He barely heard the voice calling out to him.

"Hero, I think that's enough. Roland… any more today and you'll go mad. How about you rest, eat, and talk with the others? There'll be more time for training tomorrow. What do you say?"

The king clapped him on the back. Around them, others watched the boy with new eyes—some with respect, others with fear. Any who thought he was just a child quickly changed their minds.

"Yes… I think I will," Roland said with a heaving breath. He straightened his bloodstained clothes, glancing down at his arms. They burned from exertion, but already looked stronger. His muscles ached, and there was a strange, fast pulse racing through him—a heartbeat that never quite settled.

He followed the others back to camp, where someone handed him a bowl of what looked like gruel—a thick, pasty meal that didn't even compare to the instant ramen he'd had back home.

"What is this…" he muttered. He wanted to call it slop, but stopped himself. It wasn't like the others were eating anything better. Truthfully, he hadn't eaten well in a long time either.

"This is all we have, hero. Forgive us," one of them said. "Our supplies are particularly low this month. After you eat, rest. Your body might feel like it could go on for years with the power you just gained, but believe me—if you don't lie down now, you'll feel it in a few hours."

"Sure… I guess I'd have already been asleep by now if I were back home," Roland muttered. "So, where do I…"

Before he could finish, someone handed him two thin blankets and pointed toward a spot on the floor.

"That's the best we can offer… sorry," the boy said.

He looked far too thin for his age, coming from someone who'd barely been eating properly for months; that said a lot.

Roland took his place on the ground. Before he could even process everything, sleep took him. He hadn't realized just how exhausted he was. Somehow, despite everything, he drifted off with ease.

The next morning, he was shaken awake. It hadn't even been a full eight hours.

"Sorry, hero. We've got to move again. Killing those imps will attract attention. Some of their masters still have ways of tracking them. We'll be walking for a few hours, so I hope you have decent shoes. We're heading to the underground kingdom we've built—it's one of the last bastions we humans have left."

The man who woke him was the same one who had brought him here. Looked to be in his twenties, maybe a few years older than Roland.

Roland groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. But as he shifted, he felt something strange—not pain, but a deep unfamiliarity within his own body.

It was like he had gone to sleep… and woken up years later.

His arms were broader. His vision was clearer. His hands—no longer those of a boy—looked like they belonged to a grown man.

"What is this? What did you do to me?"

Roland cried out, panic edging into his voice as he looked at his changed hands and frame.

The king, who had been silently seated behind him, finally spoke.

"Relax, kid. You're the same. The few levels you gained just changed you a little. You're still in your own body—just stronger now, more adapted for combat."

He stood slowly, his voice calm but firm.

"Embrace it. This transformation will shape you into who you were always meant to be… the perfect you."