Episode 1 - The Gray Man
The worldview of 'Heroes of the Dark World' is bleak. War, disease, disaster—the prophesied apocalypse looms, while the gods remain silent as humanity flails in the throes of desire. Kings crave war, nobles hoard power, and priests are blinded by gold, unable to face reality.
Yet even in pitch-black darkness, starlight still shines—like hope persisting in a dark age. The Hero. A being capable of accomplishing feats ordinary folk wouldn't even dare attempt.
In the game, the player’s role is fixed as the Hero. No class selection. However, the game changes depending on alignment, items, and choices. Branching paths and endings determined by scenario decisions, along with events and companion storylines, earned it strong praise.
The Hero is a player summoned from another world. Alongside them appear a priestess candidate for sainthood from the Papal State, the Magic Tower’s third successor who is an alchemist, a barbarian warrior from the steppes, and an elven archer—the sentinel of the great forest and guardian of the World Tree.
Beyond them, there are holy knights, heretic inquisitors, bounty hunters, necromancers, and countless other companion candidates. In short, superhuman figures on white horses will appear to save the world. There’s no need for an ordinary person to cling desperately to them like some reincarnated novel protagonist.
Of course, whether the Hero leads the world to salvation or ruin is another question entirely. But at the very least, it’s better than a future where everyone dies.
Still, surviving this brutal world requires at least enough power to protect oneself. The problem was simple: I was born into an ordinary body with no special talents, in the Nostrim Viscounty—a rural territory far from the capital with little influence.
Realizing that left me completely lost. But fortunately—really fortunately—I was born the second son of a viscount. In a world that sorts people according to the nonsense of “blue blood,” that irony worked in my favor. In harsh times, it’s relatively easy to secure a position in the upper class where at least survival is possible.
So how does someone with no strength, no connections, and no talent claw their way into the upper class and survive in a world that tells the powerless to simply die?
Luckily, a famous French novel I had read in my past life had already given me the answer: red and black. Military uniforms and clerical robes. Rise through military merit—or build networks.
So I set out on my own the year I came of age. I graduated from the officer academy, earned achievements on the front lines, then deliberately pulled back to the rear.
By the time rumors spread that I was a rising star officer holding key posts, I figured I’d secured at least a decent chance of surviving whatever came next.
Then came the day they summoned a Hero to face the apocalypse.
Walking the red carpet into the Sanctuary, I thought life was finally going smoothly. And when a woman emerged from the pure white light bursting from the summoning circle… it really felt like everything was going to work out.
Or so I thought.
Episode 1 - The Gray Man
A walkway near the Sanctuary where the Hero summoning ceremony was underway. Everyone invited had already entered, leaving only patrolling soldiers and a man in his forties sitting on a bench. The middle-aged man leaned on the armrest, lost in thought as he scanned a twice-folded newspaper. I knew this man well.
Colonel Clevins Hendrick of the Kingdom Army. From a capital noble family. The type who can’t rest until he’s meticulously checked every tiny detail. Lately, his stress-gray hair had grown so much he’d become dependent on hair dye. Favorite foods: grilled fish and Magic Tower instant coffee. Especially the coffee—practically daily. Even after his regular checkup, his doctor chewed him out for high blood pressure, but he still couldn’t quit. And most importantly: Clevins Hendrick was one of the key figures in Heroes of the Dark World.
A neutral named NPC, “Brigadier General Clevins Hendrick.” In Dark World, “neutral” means someone who swings between friendly and hostile depending on player choices. In this trash game’s brutal difficulty—unless you set it to easy—it’s easier to lose affinity than gain it. Outside of purely friendly types, everyone was a potential enemy. I still remembered my heart pounding as affinity fluctuated like Bitcoin after one bad choice. I should’ve never trusted those damn walkthrough kids, fuck.
I scowled without thinking.
“Something wrong, son?”
“Ah... no, sir.”
Clevins had finished his paper and was now eyeing me. He handed it over; I took it carefully and tucked it under my arm. Yellow journalism full of domestic and international gossip.
“Work wearing you down? I get it.”
“No, I’m fine.”
“If something’s tough, you can tell me, Captain Frederic Nostrim. I’m your superior.”
Right. This neutral, named, fortysomething uncle was my boss. Not planned, but somehow I ended up under him. That’s why I knew Clevins Hendrick so well. From a loyal military family serving for generations. An elite who was never passed over for promotion, on track to become a general. Nicer personality than his looks suggest, great with people—an insider. Never shows weakness, trained from a young age. Likes taking care of subordinates, even inviting them home for meals now and then. I didn’t notice it back then, but damn, he’s a good guy. The kind who’d succeed anywhere, easy to serve. So I couldn’t blurt out, “I’m worried you might screw over the Hero and the companions.”
“Nothing’s wrong. Really fine, sir.”
“Then why the long face on a day like this?”
My brain spun at the sudden question. One wrong answer, and the seniors would grill me endlessly. I needed a quick, careful response. This was the Sanctuary for summoning the Hero. With the apocalypse looming, empires and kingdoms alike were desperate. Inside, top brass from across the continent were packed in to witness the one Hero. Not something done lightly—complex rituals and agreements. Why? International law and Papal edicts deem unsanctioned summoning as preparation for war against neighboring states. But with doomsday coming, everyone turned a blind eye. Anyway, the key point: the Hero summoning had drawn all eyes to our kingdom’s Sanctuary. Envoys had been requesting attendance for months; we rushed troops in to secure the area for VIP safety, just in case. Common people knew nothing, of course. But in this damn game’s world, countless villains would already know about the Hero summon. So why was I scowling here at the front?
After quick, careful thought, I gave a solid answer.
"Just worried about a possible terror attack."
Clevins nodded, smiling—he seemed to like the answer.
"World's rough these days, huh?"
"Wasn't there that black magic incident recently?"
"Since the new Pope took over, they've cracked down hard. Treat them nicely, then suddenly knives come out—they lash back."
I wasn’t really worried about terrorism, but I played it up anyway. The one good thing in this hellhole: no ninja-like assassins were going to crash the ceremony and slaughter everyone. I knew it from playing the game. They didn’t.
"...And intel from the Magic Tower and the Empire mentioned terror plots. But they were all pipe dreams, so we handed it off to them. Don’t worry too much, Frederic."
Of course. As working intel, Colonel Clevins already knew nothing would happen. A man who had rooted out triple-digit spies, wiretapped and dismantled kingdom spy rings, and then flipped them to decapitate enemy intelligence networks. Thanks to him, promotions flowed and positions opened up—those enemies should’ve been bowing to the kingdom three times a day. An intel elite like him missing a terror plot? Impossible. If something like that happened, the kingdom would be finished.
Lost in those idle thoughts, we entered the building as the ceremony prepared to begin. The red carpet stretched from the entrance to the hall, sending a chill down my spine. The Hero summoning meant it was finally over—no more sleepless nights worrying about the end of the world. I could finally stretch out and sleep peacefully.
I knew it was only the beginning, not the end. But if there were five fighters in my place? That alone felt like relief.
I wondered what the ceremony would feel like. I’d seen cinematic HD versions plenty of times, but I still wanted to see it live.
"Looks like it’s already started."
Light leaked through the gap in the door. Despite the crowd inside, the Sanctuary was silent—eerily hushed.
Colonel Clevins led me across the hall to peek inside.
Pure white light. A holy glow traced the magic circle’s circuits. I held my breath as I watched. Strange, metaphysical shapes and runes burned brighter and brighter.
At its peak, the light flooded the dark Sanctuary. The circle collapsed; white flames shot up to the ceiling. The fire wasn’t hot—yet it spread from above. Some people screamed and collapsed; others clutched their chests and fell.
Even without mana sensitivity, I could feel the storm in the air. The pillar of light burned for a long moment, then faded like smoke.
And then, amid the dying flames—a woman appeared.
Crimson hair like burning embers stood out, though her features were still hazy. The Hero was confirmed amid cheers and applause. I turned away, having witnessed the perfect summoning.
I thought: this time, life is solid. I’ll hold out until retirement, go home after the Hero saves the world, and live comfortably forever.
Twenty-eight years of my life flashed before my eyes. Overwhelmed, I teared up, clapped, and gritted my teeth. A pure flower road ahead.
I clapped along with the crowd, thinking that.
And then—
"Captain Frederic Nostrim. Congratulations on being chosen as the Hero’s companion."
Suddenly, life’s difficulty spiked straight into infernal hell.