I hate working the graveyard shift.
Who the hell thought it was a brilliant idea to establish an overnight security system designed to trap underpaid workers who could be living out the best years of their lives? Every single night at midnight, I sit in this freezing booth at the Imperial Relic Gallery thinking: what is the actual point of my existence?
I have a regional supervisor, Curator Sterling, who is dead set on making me cover every holiday shift without overtime pay. Want me to guard your overpriced, stolen antiques, old man? No, pops—you’re cooked if I ever quit. Straight-up, hellfire-and-sulfur cooked. Because without me, your entire exhibit is getting burgled on night one.
Regardless of my thoughts, I was dragging a mop across the polished marble floor—the miserable fate of a minimum-wage worker.
If my life was a novel and someone was reading it, they’d probably think, finally, a relatable protagonist. No, brah—we’re in this hellhole together. There is no escape!
I sighed as the mop bucket squeaked against the floor. The pale moonlight fell through the skylight, as if mocking me and saying: Kaelen boy, I love watching you suffer.
"Kaelen! Why is the glass on the artifact display still smudged?!"
This man... he’s always lurking in the shadows, guarding these useless antiques like they’re his personal family heirlooms. Is that how much you enjoy ruining my night, Sterling?
I bowed my head like the obedient employee they expect me to be.
"Curator Sterling, have you tried standing on your feet for twelve hours? And don’t tell me you did it thirty years ago. Have you tried working a night shift in this century? It wears down your soul."
Sterling looked at me with fake pity in his eyes, as if I had developed some incurable condition. But both of us knew why he hadn’t fired me yet. I was the only idiot willing to work the graveyard shift for twelve dollars an hour.
"Kaelen, you see..." Sterling adjusted his bowtie, his fat chin wobbling. "All this discipline, this... suffering, as you call it—which it isn’t, by the way—is forging your character. One day, you’ll thank me."
I stuck my index finger into my ear, dug out a fresh lump of earwax, and flicked it right onto the tip of his shiny leather shoes before turning around with the mop.
Five minutes later, I slumped in the security booth, closing my eyes. I made a silent wish to the universe: If there’s any justice in the cosmos, let a truck run me over or let me get summoned to a fantasy world. Put me in a kingdom surrounded by sweet, pure-hearted heroines—saintesses, elf princesses, maybe a gentle healer or two—women who’d do anything to get a piece of me and actually value my existence.
[Initiating Dimensional Transmigration Protocol]
’Uhh? Is this a prank?’
I jerked my head up, scanning the dark gallery.
Sterling was still muttering near the exit, but a cold, feminine voice was speaking directly inside my skull.
[Source Realm: Earth]
[Destination Realm: High Empire of Sol-Valen]
[Activating Apex Sovereign System]
[10%... 30%... 60%...]
My jaw dropped as a glowing violet HUD panel materialized in the air, spelling out every word I was hearing.
[90%... 99%...]
[...]
[CRITICAL SYSTEM CORRUPTION]
[ERROR: HEROINE DATABASE ERASED]
[OVERWRITING WITH SSS-TIER CALAMITY DATABASE...]
A wave of ice-cold sweat broke out across my back.
’Hold on! Calamity database?! System, wait, let’s negotiate!’
Before I could even stand up, a massive crimson magic circle erupted beneath the security booth, blinding me with a flash of light.
The next second, my back slammed onto a freezing, polished stone floor instead of my desk chair.
DingDing
[SYSTEM CORRUPTION CONTAINED]
[User Designated as: SSS-Rank Anomaly]
[Innate Attributes Granted:]
[Somatic Overload (Basic) Lv. 1]
(Description: Physical contact heightens sensory receptivity in villainous entities.)
[Endless Resilience (Basic) Lv. 1]
(Description: Grants infinite physical stamina and rapid bodily recovery during high-intensity encounters.)
[Adaptive Resonance (Basic) Lv. 1](Description: User’s physical body effortlessly scales and adjusts to achieve maximum compatibility with any partner.)
I stared at the floating text boxes. Adaptive Resonance? Endless Resilience? What kind of attributes are these?!
"Where are we?!"
"My phone has no signal!"
"Is this an underground cult?!"
Panicked voices filled the air. I pushed myself up. I was standing in a cathedral the size of a football stadium, surrounded by soaring vaulted ceilings and stained-glass windows depicting golden angels.
"Welcome, Otherworlders!" a thunderous voice boomed from a golden altar. "Do not be afraid! You have been summoned by the High Empire of Sol-Valen to become the Heralds of Light!"
An ancient man in silk white robes and a jeweled mitre stood above us, surrounded by dozens of paladins in gleaming plate armor.
"We damn serious? " I muttered under my breath.
"You Otherworlders were summoned here to fight against the Dark" The ancient man declared, his voice echoing.
A tall guy with a jawline carved by marble and perfectly styled hair stepped to the front of our group. Victor Sterling—the arrogant, trust-fund son of a real estate tycoon, who is very popular back on Earth is also here.
"How this son of a gun got summoned too?" I contemplated. "Well, considering a nobody like me is also here, it is not that odd"
"Everyone, remain calm," Victor said, his tone dripping with fake leadership. "Panicking won’t solve anything. Let’s hear what the High Inquisitor has to say."
’Look at this guy trying to act like a main character,’ I thought, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets.
High Inquisitor Theron smiled down at us like a shepherd looking at livestock. "Before you can wage war against the dark, you must undergo the Awakening. Touch the Orb of Solari to reveal your Spirit Rank!"
One by one, the summoned teenagers stepped up to a floating crystal sphere.
"C-Rank Summoner! Spirit: Stone Golem!"
"A-Rank Summoner! Spirit: Gale Falcon!"
Then Victor stepped forward. He pressed his hand against the crystal, and the orb exploded with a blinding pillar of golden fire that scorched the cathedral ceiling.
[S-RANK SUMMONER AWAKENED!]
[Heroic Spirit: Ignis, The Sun-Forged Blade (Mythic Rank)]
Gasps and cheers echoed through the hall.
"S-Rank! We’re saved!"
"Victor is incredible!"
Victor turned around, flashing a brilliant smile while soaking in the applause.
High Inquisitor Theron checked his scroll. "Next! Kaelen Cross! Step forward!"
I walked up the marble steps while fifty people watched. I placed my palm on the crystal.
The orb flickered... then turned a dull, stagnant gray.
[CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE AWAKENED AS AN F-RANK SUMMONER!]
[Aether Capacity: 100/100]
The cathedral went dead silent. Then came the snickers.
"F-Rank? Is that even a thing?"
"Haha, what a total loser."
"He’s basically a glorified peasant."
Victor walked past me, patting my shoulder with an arrogant smirk. "Don’t worry, Kaelen. Stay in the back during the raids. I’ll make sure my Sun-Forged Sovereign protects a useless guy like you."
’Keep flexing, bro, see where it gets you,’ I thought, walking toward the summoning circle at the edge of the dais.
High Inquisitor Theron waved his staff. "F-Ranks may only attempt to summon Mortal-Tier entities! Channel your 100 Aether into the catalyst!"
A priest handed me a frayed piece of ancient, charred linen. I stepped into the circle and channeled my meager 100 Aether into the cloth.
’Please, universe, just give me a cute, gentle healer heroine... that’s all I’m asking for!’
The gray magic circle beneath me flared.
Then, my HUD glitched into bright crimson.
[CRITICAL ERROR!]
[CORRUPTED DATABASE ACTIVATED]
[SUMMONING SSS-TIER CALAMITY ENTITY...]
[Entity: Valeska, The Ashen Monarch (Calamity Rank 9)]
The gray circle instantly turned pitch-black and blood-crimson. Black lightning violently tore through the cathedral, shattering the marble floor and blowing out every stained-glass window in a single explosion.
The atmospheric pressure spiked so hard that the other guys around me collapsed onto the floor, clutching their chests and screaming.
High Inquisitor Theron stumbled backward off his throne.
From the black inferno at the center of my circle, a figure stepped out.
Six-foot-two. Clad in jagged, obsidian plate armor that clung to a ridiculously voluptuous, hourglass frame. A tattered cape of ash trailed behind her, and two demon-like horns curved out from a featureless visor that burned with two crimson slits of light.
The aura radiating off her was so heavy that the air itself smelled of ozone and scorched blood.
She didn’t look like a helper. She looked like an end-of-days raid boss.
Valeska turned her featureless helmet toward me. The pressure coming off her was so crushing that my knees buckled, and my 100 Aether pool instantly drained to zero.
"Weakling," her voice echoed directly inside my head like grinding metal. "A frail insect dares to tether my soul?"
High Inquisitor Theron pointed a shaking finger at me, his voice cracking in terror. "A-An Abomination! That is the Ashen Monarch who burned the Western Continents to ash! PALADINS! EXECUTE THE HERETIC IMMEDIATELY!"
Four paladins in plate armor drawn their swords and charged at us.
Valeska didn’t even draw a weapon. She simply took one step forward and flicked her wrist.
BOOM!
A shockwave of pure, black kinetic force blasted through the hall. The four charging paladins were instantly launched backward through the air, slamming into stone pillars with enough force to shatter their armor and knock them out cold.
Victor Sterling’s S-Rank Sun Archon flinched, taking a cautious step back.
Valeska turned her glowing visor back to me, looking down at me as I lay on the floor, gasping for breath from Aether exhaustion.
"You summoned me, mortal," her voice echoed in my head, cold and dominant. "Now, prepare to pay the price."
My vision started to fade into black, but I managed to look up at her with a pained smirk.
’Yeah... I’m definitely going to get broken, aren’t I?’