Volume 4 Chapter 91 The Boys’ Choice
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
A wide plain stretched along the town road, flanked by rows of tents pressed close together. This was the encampment of the Kingdom of Nakuos military—where soldiers and mercenaries had gathered in anticipation of the coming war against the Demon Race.
Rather than a disciplined frontline base, it resembled a chaotic sprawl of roughnecks. Especially in one corner, where the mercenaries congregated, a strange mix of laziness and tension filled the air.
Several mercenaries sat around a campfire there, voices low, laughter rough-edged.
At the center sat Gaedaf, a Gold Rank adventurer and the leader of Star of the Dawn, an elite party serving the Kingdom of Nakuos. His strength and reputation had made him the de facto leader among the adventurers.
”Damn it… They round us up like cattle, then treat us worse than dogs,” he grumbled.
”If we lose, we’re disposable. If we win, the knights take all the glory,” another spat, tossing a twig into the flames.
”We signed up to fight monsters—not this political garbage,” muttered a third, poking at the fire.
The adventurers spoke with the heavy sarcasm of men who’d long since abandoned idealism.
”It’s time to sleep. We’ve got an early march tomorrow,” Gaedaf said, standing and brushing off his cloak.
”Yeah, you’re right—ssu,” one of them mumbled, dragging himself to his feet.
One by one, they returned to their tents, leaving the fire to crackle softly in the night.
Gaedaf lingered a moment, stretching his arms overhead.
”Seriously, I can’t believe this…” he muttered, jaw tight.
Though he held authority among his peers, he too was dissatisfied. As he turned toward his tent, he sensed something—a faint presence among the trees. A shadow flickered at the edge of the firelight.
His expression hardened. He reached for the hilt at his waist—then exhaled.
”Is that you, Taro? What are you doing here?” he asked, tension giving way to cautious relief.
I stepped out from the darkness, the fire warming my face.
”Gaedaf, do you have a moment? I want to hear your take on the situation—as a mercenary.”
Gaedaf narrowed his eyes, studying me for a long beat.
”What’s this about? You’re up to something, aren’t you?” he asked.
I offered a small smile, tilting my head.
”Maybe. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”
He snorted, the corner of his mouth twitching.
”Ha. Sounds interesting.”
* * *
A town along the kingdom’s advancing route—now heavy with tension under temporary military occupation. Normally a hub for trade, its streets were lined with empty stalls, their skeletal frames creaking in the wind.
Inside the town’s most luxurious inn, five boys shared a single room.
All around high-school age, they had been summoned from modern Japan—heroes conscripted to fight the Demon Race.
With barely any explanation, they’d been flung to the front lines.
One boy sat on the bed, silently polishing his sword. Another leaned against the window, staring out at the dark sky. The remaining three huddled around a map spread across the floor, whispering.
”Is it true we’re heading to the front tomorrow?” one of them asked, voice taut with uncertainty.
The small boy with glasses traced the map’s edge with a trembling finger.
”It’s true,” said another, more sharply. “They told us in the morning briefing—we’re marching with the mercenaries.”
The boy with the athletic build tried to sound composed, though the tension in his jaw betrayed him.
”I never thought we’d actually fight. I always imagined heroes were, y’know, more like anime. Flashy powers, cool music.”
His joke fell flat.
”But… is the Demon Race really evil?” the boy with glasses asked hesitantly, voice soft.
”Of course they’re evil. It’s in the name—’Demon Race,’” another scoffed, arms crossed.
”But I’ve heard they can talk. There’s even some trade. Can we really justify wiping them out?”
The room quieted, his words hanging heavy in the air.
”They’re evil,” one boy insisted, more to himself than the others.
”The princess believes in us. We owe her that trust, right? I’ll take down the Demon Race with my own hands. And then I’ll…”
The stout boy’s voice trailed off, eyes distant—likely lost in thoughts of the princess.
”Yamada, do you seriously think the princess would give you the time of day?” another asked dryly.
”Of course she would! She wouldn’t lie to me!” Yamada snapped.
”…”
It was obvious now—Yamada was completely infatuated. Had he been enchanted somehow?*
The other four fell silent, casting sidelong glances his way.
Then—
Knock.
A soft rap echoed through the room.
”What was that?” one of them whispered, heart skipping, afraid their talk had reached the soldier posted outside.
No reply.
”Who is it?” another called.
Still silence.
”Something’s off…” one muttered, hand drifting toward his weapon.
”Is it an enemy?”
One of the boys stepped forward, gripping his sword. Slowly, he turned the knob and flung the door open.
Creak—the old hinge groaned.
He peered into the hallway. Empty.
”No one’s there,” he muttered.
”…A prank? On us? The so-called heroes?” he asked, disbelief edging his voice.
A dry chuckle—then he noticed something at his feet.
”Hey, look down. What’s that?” he said, stepping back.
”Eh? Wait… is that…?” another boy gasped, crouching for a better look.
A single object sat on the hallway floor. Oddly modern. Starkly out of place against the world’s usual textures. Even the printed letters on it felt eerily familiar.
”Is that… a cardboard box?” one boy asked aloud.
”They have those in this world?” another said, incredulous.
”That can’t be right…” someone muttered, frowning.
Baffled, the boys inched closer. One of them knelt, lifting the lid with trembling hands.
”…!”
He gasped, breath catching.
Inside, someone sucked in a sharp breath.
”Plastic bottles? Wait—this is cola!” another shouted, stunned.
The box was packed with plastic soda bottles, potato chips, and chocolate—snacks they all remembered from home. That familiar taste, once taken for granted, now shimmered like treasure.
One boy reached in, twisting off a cap.
”H-Hey! Don’t! It could be poisoned!” another cried, alarmed.
”I don’t care! If I can drink cola again—I’ll die happy!” the boy declared, eyes gleaming.
Without hesitation, he drank.
”…So good! It’s the real thing!” he exclaimed, joy cracking his voice.
A chorus of shouts followed. The boys couldn’t resist any longer. They dove for the box.
Pop, pop, crinkle.
The sound of bottles popping open and wrappers tearing filled the room.
”This is crazy. I’m gonna cry,” one boy said, wiping at his eyes.
”This… this really isn’t a dream, right?” another asked, disbelief clinging to his voice.
Sweetness, spice, and salt bloomed on their tongues. The taste of a world they thought they’d never experience again overwhelmed them all at once.
After indulging in the flavors of home, they noticed something.
”There’s still something inside,” one boy said, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
At the bottom of the cardboard box, beneath a layer of packing material, they found a single folded sheet of paper.
”A letter… in Japanese,” he muttered, squinting down at the page.
”So it really was a Japanese person who sent this?” another asked, leaning in.
The opened letter read:
Do not actively participate in the war. If you’re willing to cooperate with us, we’ll continue sending supplies.
Silence fell over the room.
And then—
”What do we do?” one boy asked, glancing at the others.
”…Screw the war. I’d rather have cola,” another said, grinning.
”For real. I’d take chocolate over beating the Demon Race any day,” he added, a laugh bubbling up.
”The kingdom’s sweets are pretty mid anyway,” another chimed in, nodding.
”Still, who even sent this stuff?” one boy wondered, brow furrowing.
”Yeah… good question,” another said, unease creeping into his voice.
As one voiced the question, the others began to frown too.
”Someone managed to gather all this Japanese stuff… does anyone even have that kind of skill?” one asked, doubt in his tone.
”No way,” another scoffed.
”If someone did, maybe it’s that old guy who drove us here?” one suggested, half-joking.
”No chance. That’d take some crazy skills…” another muttered, shaking his head.
They began speculating about the source of the snacks—naturally, it was something that mattered to them.
”If they want to stop the war, maybe they’re with the Noble Faction?” one theorized, narrowing his eyes.
”You think the Noble Faction made all this?” another asked, disbelief clear.
”Not a chance. Every single thing here is made by a Japanese company,” one countered, shaking his head.
”Then maybe there’s another Hero besides us, and it’s their skill?” another said, excitement stirring.
”What if the Noble Faction summoned their own Hero? Or maybe it’s a Demon Race Hero?” one added, eyes widening at the thought.
”I don’t care who it is. If they’re gonna send us stuff from Japan, I’m all in,” he said.
”For real. Honestly, I hope they send more—like instant noodles or something,” another added with a grin.
Laughter broke out, lifting the mood in the room. Relief, excitement, and the faintest flicker of hope filled the air.
Except for one boy.
”N-no! We can’t!” Yamada shouted, his voice shaking as he sprang to his feet.
”The princess… she believes in us! I decided I’d fight—for her!”
He spoke with conviction, but none of the others echoed his resolve.
”Yeah, but it’s not like the princess ever sent us cola,” someone muttered.
His words hit home for the rest of them.
* * *
A few days later, we stood on high ground, gazing across the landscape.
Below us stretched an endless sea of green, rippling in the wind.
In the swaying grass stood organized rows of soldiers. Mercenaries moved among them in loose, restless groups. The Kingdom’s army was already in the final stages of its deployment.
At this rate, they’d engage the Demon Race army before sunset.
The field was barren—no towns, no forests. Just empty land. A neutral stretch chosen by both sides as the battleground.
”It matches the intel,” Lifia murmured beside me. Her gaze never left the distant formations, and her golden hair caught the light like threads of silk.
”Yeah. Everything’s going according to plan,” I replied, pushing down the tightness in my chest.
”We’re going to stop this war.”
”Yes. Let’s begin,” she said, clutching her hands. In her mini-skirted maid uniform, the half-elf girl somehow still looked adorable.
Thanks to everyone’s efforts, we’d gathered the intel we needed. Our operation was on track.
We would end this war with our own hands.
That said, I don’t believe all wars are wrong.
Sometimes, the only way to protect something is through force. There are conflicts in this world you can’t avoid.
But this war was different.
From the Kingdom of Nakuos’s perspective, there was nothing to gain here—no resource, no strategic value. Just another loop in the endless chain of retaliation.
More than that, it was factional infighting. And at the center of it stood the princess and her ambition.
She cloaked her power play in the robes of righteousness. This wasn’t about the people—it was about influence.
And on top of that, there were religious motives.
In this world, the summoning of a Hero was seen as a divine miracle. The specifics varied by country and creed, but the idea was the same: a summoned Hero marked a turning point in history.
By succeeding in the summoning, the princess painted herself as “the chosen one.” She claimed divine legitimacy.
And if her Hero triumphed in battle, that victory might even become something worshiped.
For her, this was the ultimate stage—a miracle she could brand as her own.
But I knew the truth.
I spoke with something like a god during the summoning.
But it wasn’t a god.
It might be a being beyond human comprehension, but it bore no resemblance to what people imagine when they speak of deities.
It didn’t hear prayers. It wasn’t a merciful presence. It had no noble will.
It acted more like a machine—calculating, emotionless, endlessly repeating its judgments. Like a computer.
Summoning Heroes wasn’t some divine miracle. It was just technology.
A system, built by people, that searched other worlds for someone who matched certain conditions—and brought them here.
Even if the princess claimed she spoke divine words, it was a lie.
The miracles she praised, the faith she stirred—they were all illusions, spun for her own sake.
And as the true Hero, I knew that.
That’s why I had to stop this war.
To shatter her false miracle.
”Give you chocolate,” said Fairy A.
”Think they’ll notice if I sneak a nibble?” Fairy B asked.
Notes:
• Kingdom of Nakuos – The nation where the protagonist and companions were summoned as heroes.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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