Chapter 3: If This Is Another World, Then Explain It Already

Inside the ceremonial chamber of Elgrand Castle.

I waited with bated breath, eager for the summoning ritual to begin.

“Karen Staccato, as the Saint who will guide the Hero, you must conduct yourself with the utmost decorum.”

The words my mother and tutors had repeated to me over and over since childhood echoed in my mind.

I stared quietly at the mark on the back of my hand.

The Hero and the Saint are two halves of one whole.

Wherever the Hero is, a stigma—called the Stigmata—appears on their body and remains until their destiny is fulfilled. The Saint bears an identical mark, perfectly matching that of their destined counterpart.

My Stigmata manifested when I was still very young.

I believe I was around twenty at the time.

It’s quite rare for an elf to be chosen as the Saint, so I remember clearly how I became the center of attention throughout the entire kingdom.

Mother praised me, saying it was an incredible honor.

Relatives began visiting our home more often, bringing gifts each time.

But the Hero—my destined counterpart—never came.

At the time, the world was at peace. Skirmishes between nations and minor crimes existed, but there was no dire need for a Hero.

And so, for over a hundred years, I devoted myself to training. Not only in battle magic, but also in etiquette and diplomacy.

It was all for the day I would finally meet the Hero—to be his support when he arrived.

They say that when the Hero and Saint are of opposite sexes, they often end up together. And I’ve been told the one being summoned today is a man.

Which means... the person summoned today might one day become my husband.

—What kind of person will he be?

I couldn’t help but feel excited at the thought.

But I quickly tried to shake off those impure notions and regain my composure.

Summoning someone from another world—Isekai Summoning—isn’t something that should ever be done lightly.

Normally, a Hero is born naturally when the world is in danger. The reason we’ve resorted to this method is the Divine Revelation.

To put it simply, a message from the gods.

“Right now, this world lacks the power to produce a new Hero. Therefore, the gods have decreed that we must ‘borrow the strength of another world.’”

That’s what the High Priest informed the king about a week ago.

Using my Stigmata, we were able to pinpoint the matching Hero in another world and summon him here.

It’s a brutal kind of magic.

After all, that person must have family, a life of his own. And we’re tearing him away from it all for our own purposes.

In truth, summoning magic has been forbidden since ancient times. But there’s a reason we’ve chosen to break that taboo.

The Demon Dragon—a single dragon that appeared out of nowhere in southern Elgrand about a year ago.

Just one of them was enough to annihilate an entire stationed army. Naturally, the town nearby—filled with countless lives—was…

Let me make this clear: Elgrand’s military isn’t weak.

On the contrary, as a magical nation, its name is known across the continent. Elves are highly adept at wielding magic.

So why did they lose so easily?

There’s only one answer. The Demon Dragon is said to be covered head to toe in some kind of black barrier.

According to survivors who barely escaped, that barrier nullifies all magic.

Elves may be masters of magic, but we’re physically frail. We’re no good at close-quarters combat. Our nation never put much effort into swordsmanship.

There are magical knights, of course, but even they mainly rely on spells.

In short, against the Demon Dragon, we couldn’t use our true strength. We were utterly crushed.

And so, the decision was made—to summon a Hero.

With our forces severely weakened, monsters began flooding the kingdom. The situation required swift action. The Divine Revelation came in answer to our desperate pleas for help from the gods.

“O soul of strength from another world, heed our call and grant us your power!”

Before I realized it, the ritual was nearing its end.

The magic in the air coalesced rapidly, condensing into a radiant light.

“Ow!”

Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced the back of my hand, and I let out a cry.

It burned.

Heat surged from the mark as it throbbed with a fiery ache. It felt like—though I’ve never experienced it myself—being carved into with a knife.

Regardless of what I was feeling, the summoning was already in motion.

I ignored the pounding in my head and checked my body.

The goddess had said she would reconstruct my physical form. I needed to confirm if that was true.

—Yeah. No problems.

I couldn’t see my face, but my body was definitely unchanged. Even my clothes were the same school uniform I’d been wearing.

Needlessly faithful to the original. Not that I’m complaining—being dumped here naked would’ve been way worse.

"Yuto, are you okay…? Ugh, my head..."

As I forced myself upright, the headache worsened.

But I didn’t care. What mattered more was my best friend—well, maybe that’s just how I felt, one-sidedly.

And then my eyes landed on—

Yuto, unmistakably transformed into a girl, though still bearing traces of who he used to be.

“What the hell is going on!?”

Even his voice had changed—higher-pitched to match his new body. A pure, clear soprano.

“Wha? Huh?”

My brain couldn’t keep up.

Yuto himself was probably the most confused one here, though…

I remembered.

Yuto had always been a bit androgynous. Even in high school, he was short, frail-looking compared to our classmates, who were growing into adult men.

He also tried his best not to stand out. To those who didn’t know him, he probably just came off as a quiet, unremarkable boy.

But he was a boy.

Not some crossdressing girl or anything like that. I mean, we had swimming class. Swimsuits leave nothing to the imagination.

And yet, look at him now.

His already-slim arms looked even more delicate.

His already-androgynous face had grown rounder, softer. His black hair, once short, now reached his shoulders and had a healthy, silky sheen. It was a girl's hair, no doubt about it.

But more than anything…

His chest.

Despite his slender frame, his breasts were... big. Way too prominent to ignore. He was still wearing his summer school uniform—just like me—and the buttons of his shirt were straining from the fullness pushing against the fabric. It was frankly, kind of obscene.

And, well… of course my eyes went there. I’m a guy. It’s only natural. Not that I’d ever admit that to his face.

“Hero, we welcome your arrival.”

A single elf stepped forward before our still-stunned selves. The crowd quieted down at once, and silence filled the hall.

He was a young man, likely around our age. Judging by the crown on his head, this was the king.

But he wasn’t wearing anything gaudy like you’d see in some fantasy RPG. His outfit, centered around a flowing green cloak, was tastefully elegant. Understated, even.

“I am the king of this nation—Elgrand. My name is Richarl Elgrand.”

Then he knelt.

Wait, wait—the king is kneeling like that?

I blurted out my doubt without thinking.

“We’ve dragged someone from another world into our troubles for entirely selfish reasons. Showing our respect is the least we can do. Besides, in this country, the Hero holds power equal to that of the king. You are our savior.”

He said it with visible guilt.

Of course, what he didn’t know was that it wasn’t them who cornered us into this. That was all on that so-called goddess.

This kingdom wasn’t at fault.

…But I kept that to myself.

Given the situation, I might as well take advantage of whatever I can.

“I'm Kirisame Raiga. And this here is Habara Yuto.”

Since the king had introduced himself, it was only polite to return the gesture.

I gave a nod, and Richarl began his explanation.

He spoke of the crisis threatening his kingdom, of how the elves were powerless against the Demon Dragon.

And finally, he declared—publicly and without hesitation—that they would give us their full support.

“Your Majesty, what the hell’s going on? My friend just turned into a girl.”

“Y-Yes, please, we’d like an explanation!”

My words seemed to snap Yuto out of his daze. Ever since his earlier outburst, he'd been frozen in stunned silence.

“That is… difficult to say. I can only assume it was some sort of mistake. Originally, we intended to summon just one individual.”

Then he pointed to the back of my hand.

“That is the Stigmata—the proof of your status as the Hero.”

There was a mark there, like a chain wrapped around my skin.

…Back on Earth, I definitely didn’t have anything like this. Maybe it was a result of the goddess reconstructing my body?

And it felt strangely familiar… like I’d seen it before somewhere.

“A girl bearing the same mark is known as the Saint. Karen! Karen Staccato! Come forward!”

Ignoring my confusion, the king called out.

After a moment’s hesitation, a girl stepped forward. Her skin was pale and clear, almost ethereal.

She was clearly in ceremonial dress. Her long golden hair was elegantly tied up, and she wore a flowing white gown fit for a princess.

But her face was completely bloodless. She looked like she might collapse at any moment.

Was she forcing herself to appear despite feeling unwell?

“Karen, show us your Stigmata.”

Richarl addressed the girl—Karen. But she held her opposite hand tightly over the back of her own, refusing to reveal it.

“What are you doing? You’ve finally met your Hero, haven’t you?”

Frustration creeping into his voice, Richarl’s tone grew sharp, irritated by her strange behavior.

“It’s not there.”

Karen spoke, just as the king moved closer, clearly losing his patience. Her voice trembled.

“What isn’t?”

Richarl looked confused.

“My Stigmata... It’s gone! I can’t find it anywhere!”

Karen’s anguished cry echoed throughout the chamber.