Itsuki Hiroto arrived at the Hall of Trials—an imposing octagonal pavilion of polished obsidian and glowing runes—late morning, bleary-eyed, and clutching a half–eaten meat bun. The courtyard outside buzzed with activity: dozens of would‑be heroes decked out in gaudy armor, wizards fussing over spell tomes, mercenaries polishing weapons, and even a trio of bard‑singers tuning their lutes for "epic entrance music."
Seven days until my peaceful life is toast, Hiroto thought, popping the last of the bun into his mouth. So let's get this over with.
He approached the entrance under a banner that proclaimed "Heroic Candidate Evaluation Exam: Only the Worthy Shall Pass!" Alongside the gate stood two booming heralds in full regalia, blowing trumpets so loud that Hiroto's teeth rattled.
"All candidates, present yourselves!" one herald shouted. The other repeated the announcement in a booming echo: "Present yourselves!"
Hiroto shuffled forward, weaving between terrified applicants. Some looked ready for battle; others looked likely to faint. He stepped up, handed over his candidate scroll, and was stamped with a glowing insignia on his palm.
"Name?" the herald asked.
"Itsuki Hiroto," he mumbled.
"Title?"
"Accidental Dragon Slayer. Professional Carpenter? No—warehouse clerk."
The heralds exchanged a glance. One raised an eyebrow; the other shrugged and scrawled something illegible on a parchment.
"Proceed!" they said, and Hiroto was herded inside.
---
Test 1: Martial Prowess
Inside the first chamber, the ceiling opened to sky while the floor was a circular platform surrounded by spiked pits and target dummies. A stern instructor stood by a weapons rack stocked with swords, spears, bows, and one suspiciously enormous hammer.
"Demonstrate your combat skill," he barked. "Strike the target in the center!" A glowing red orb floated over the bull's-eye. "Do not miss!"
Hiroto gulped and grabbed the biggest sword he could find—far too heavy for anyone sane. He hefted it awkwardly and stepped onto the platform. Other candidates charged forward, unleashing war cries. Hiroto cleared his throat, then swung the 8‑pound blade in a wild arc...
WHAM! The blade cut clean through not only the target orb but also the support pedestal, sending sparks flying. The orb shattered into glowing shards that drifted lazily upward like fireflies. The instructor's jaw dropped.
"Perfect score!" someone shouted. Other candidates stared in stunned silence.
Hiroto dipped the sword-tips into the ground and muttered, "That never happens to me."
---
Test 2: Agility and Evasion
Next up was the Hall of Dodges—a narrow corridor with swinging pendulums, dart traps, and floors that collapsed into foam pits. A magical timer hovered overhead.
"If you can cross in under thirty seconds without a scratch, you pass," the test official announced.
Hiroto sighed. I trip over my own feet on a flat surface. He resolved to fail spectacularly: he stepped forward, purposely misstepped into a dart trap—only to have the darts slow down mid‑air, then drift harmlessly to the ground. He slid under a pendulum by mistake, which missed by mere inches. The floor gave way, but he tumbled into foam so soft he barely noticed.
He stood, brushed off imaginary dust, and crossed the finish line at twenty‑seven seconds flat. A green "PASS" sigil flashed overhead.
He raised his arms. This test was easier than jumping onto a chair.
---
Test 3: Arcane Aptitude
The third chamber was suffused with swirling mana. At its center hovered a small stone pedestal holding a single Luminescent Glyph, which glowed with shifting colors. A line of robed candidates waited to complete a simple task: inscribe the glyph's runes onto a blank parchment, channeling the orb's magic through a quill.
Most scribes fussed, chanting arcane formulas. Hiroto strolled forward, yanked a quill with half a sigh, and scrawled the runes in sloppy handwriting. As soon as his quill touched the parchment, the glyph's light surged—ink glowed, the parchment rolled up, and the runes danced off-page to form a perfect translation on a golden tablet.
"Superior!" the mage‑examiner declared, adjusting spectacles. "Your runes not only matched but improved on the original essence!"
Hiroto blinked. "I… didn't even know what I drew."
---
Test 4: Wisdom and Strategy
The final trial took place in a war‑room filled with miniature terrain models. A haughty general pointed to two opposing armies of toy soldiers.
"You must plan a maneuver to rescue the princess from the enemy fortress with minimal casualties," he intoned. "Your time: ten minutes."
Hiroto groaned. I solve logistics puzzles for a living. He opened his mouth to refuse—then glanced at the model. With a shrug, he rearranged supply routes, ordered a feint at the eastern gate, and suggested secret tunnels for a stealthy rescue.
The general studied the plans. "Brilliant. A textbook example of economy of force and minimal collateral—exactly what we need."
Hiroto folded his arms. I wasn't even listening.
---
The Artifact's Reaction
As he stepped down from the war‑table, the hall fell silent. Ahead, a small Crystal Gauntlet rested on a velvet cushion under a glass dome. This final artifact—known as the Glove of Destiny—was said to choose only those pure of heart and unburdened by ambition.
Hiroto sighed. Can't they leave me alone? He wandered forward, accidentally bumped the dome, and the glass lifted on its own.
The gauntlet pulsed with light. It floated up and gently slipped onto Hiroto's left hand, sizing itself around his fingers like a tailor‑made glove. It hummed softly, sending ripples of warmth through his arm.
Gasps echoed from the chambers: officials, examiners, and candidates stared in awe.
"He's been chosen," the herald whispered.
"He passes with honors," the commander declared. "Heroic Candidate #1!"
Hiroto stared at his glowing hand. "I guess I win?" he said, voice half in disbelief.
The gauntlet shone brighter—engraved runes forming a halo around him as if signing a divine contract.
---
Aftermath and Cliffhanger
As he exited the Hall of Trials, laurels of laurel‑wreath‑scented smoke drifting behind him, the other candidates knelt in reverence. Hiroto's shoulders slumped with exhaustion.
Sera met him at the doorway, plastering on a congratulatory smile. "Well… that was quick."
He flexed the gauntlet, watching the runes pulse. "I failed every test on purpose," he muttered. "I didn't even try."
Virelya appeared, arms crossed. She gave him a slow nod of respect—mixed with disbelief. "Your unintentional competence is unparalleled," she said. "But I'm starting to wonder: is your strength actually dangerous?"
Before Hiroto could form a reply, a courier galloped up. He panted, handing Hiroto a royal dispatch sealed with the Imperial Sigil.
Hiroto cracked it open and read:
> Captain Hiroto,
The Emperor requests your immediate presence at tomorrow's Grand Council Roundtable to discuss the glimmering of the Ruins of Varn relic.
—Chancellor Beltram
Hiroto's eyes widened. Tomorrow? A fresh wave of dread washed over him.
He glanced down at the gauntlet, which pulsed in quiet anticipation.
My peaceful life officially expired yesterday.
And now, it was about to be torn to shreds by prophecy, politics, and portals to ancient ruins.
With a resigned groan, Hiroto shouldered his satchel. "Well… let's go save the world again."