Johan stood inside the throne room. His arms crossed as King Audemars continued his explanation of the prophecy and the dire state of the world he and his friends had found themselves summoned to, Eosdadalon.

More questions and doubts swirled through his mind more than ever, like leaves caught in a gust of autumn wind.

The king spoke of heroes summoned by fate and destinies, yet Johan wasn't considered one of them. Why had he been dragged into this mess if he wasn't one to be here? But the real question was why he had been the only one to wake up inside the Penumbra.

The air in the room was heavy and somewhat thick with expectation as the king's voice demanded the attention of everyone present.

"I want you four to fear not. You four are the Heroes of Prophecy. You can rid Eosdadalon of the Penumbra. Even if you only drive the darkness back some, it is a win in our eyes."

His friends exchanged excited glances, curiosity lighting up their eyes, but Johan raised an eyebrow at the king's words.

"Drive the darkness back? He must have lost his marbles underneath that crown," grumbled Johan.

The king gestured behind him to a grand tapestry draped from the high ceiling. Within the fabric were intricate symbols new to Johan and his friends.

At the center, a silver sword crossed with a golden shield gleamed—the emblem exuding strength and honor. Next, an arcane sigil shimmered, its glowing runes speaking of deep magical knowledge. Further along, a bow entwined with delicate vines and musical notes sat beneath a watchful green eye.

Finally, a breathtaking image of a beautiful woman, her face serene and surrounded by a bright golden light and angelic wings, outstretched as if blessing those beneath her watch.

"In our world," the king continued, "...many paths to power exist, each with their strengths and trials. You may wield divine grace, arcane mastery, primal skill, the power of song—the choice is yours."

Jake muttered under his breath, "Just like a game..." His eyes glinted with excitement. Maya, her gaze locked on the figure of the winged woman, whispered, "Yeah, it feels like a gamer's dream come true."

Johan's gaze flicked across the symbols on the fabric. Too bad none of that applied to him. What was left for a guy like him if he wasn't supposed to be here? The one who they said didn't belong.

A twinge of bitterness darted in his chest. Enraptured by the king's words, his friends practically buzzed with excitement. But Johan felt more like a spectator in their story.

His friends—the so-called heroes—had their paths laid out before them. What was his role in all this?

"There is no rush," the king said, his tone softening. "When the time comes, choose wisely. Your choice will determine your place in battle and shape your journey. Earn your experience and prove your worth."

Johan's friends hung on every word, their imaginations racing as the king's explanation unfolded like the start of a grand adventure. 

"Now," the king finished, "go forth. Let your hearts guide you. You are the hope of this world."

Johan's thoughts churned with frustration, but a deeper, more profound, darker question festered beneath it. 

His friends were the heroes of this world, so what did that make him? A mistake? A glitch in someone else's grand design?

He glanced at his friends, their faces lit with excitement. They had a purpose, but he had nothing but questions. Johan stood apart, feeling more like an outsider than ever.

"Hey, hold on," he interrupted, his voice cutting through the excited chatter. "What about me?"

"...And what about you?" the king replied, and the room fell silent.

The royals exchanged uneasy glances, but before anyone could answer, Captain Enfys stepped forward, his footsteps heavy against the marble floor.

Enfys didn't just walk; he stalked forward, his very presence commanding silence. His dark and unreadable eyes locked onto Johan.

The captain of the royal guard was not one to mince words, nor did he tolerate insolence. There was a glint of something dangerous behind his calm demeanor—an edge that made the air around him feel sharper, colder.

Johan's skin prickled under his gaze. It felt like Enfys saw through him for a split second, dissecting every thought and intention before Johan spoke.

"Your Grace, this is the individual I've sent word of. He claims to have summoned alongside the heroes. However, his situation is unique. We were alerted to an unusual occurrence. When we arrived at the village for recon, the Penumbra somehow made its way and consumed it. Yet, when it suddenly vanished, we found him inside."

The king's cold gaze bore into Johan, his fingers curling around the armrests of his throne, knuckles white with barely restrained irritation. "Is this true?" he asked, each word deliberate, as if daring Johan to lie. 

For a moment, Johan's mouth went dry. The king's presence was overbearing, as though the air tightened with every breath. He could feel the weight of Audemars' authority like an iron fist poised to crush him. But Enfys' quiet scrutiny was worse.

Johan nodded. "Yeah, that's true, but... I have no idea how I got there."

The king's eyes reflected his suspicion. His expression was unreadable as he considered the implications of what he had just heard.

"You were inside the Penumbra, and yet you stand before me claiming to have been summoned by the prophecy..." His voice was low, each word laced with doubt. "Tell me, what did you see inside?"

Johan hesitated, the horrors he had witnessed inside the Penumbra flashing through his mind as the persistent black fog and faint whispers clawed at the edges of his sanity. All while feeling something ancient, watching his every move from the abyss. 

"Well, I—"

But in an attempt to explain the ordeal, a display materialized. An identical error message, similar to the one encountered when speaking to Enfys in the village, floated in front of Johan.

"Come on, not this again," he grumbled, 

Every time Johan tried to recall it, his words choked in his throat as though the system's prohibition was like a gag around his mind.

"...That information is prohibited?" Johan muttered as he stared at the HUD screen, but the king's sharp ears caught every word through the room's stillness.

"That information is prohibited?" the king repeated, his voice ominous. "Such audacity. Do you take me for a fool? You are no hero of prophecy. I will not tolerate disrespect, boy."

With a wave of his hand, the king signaled his men. "Bring him closer."

The men grabbed Johan's arms, releasing him at the king's throne.

"You are guilty of withholding vital information," the king declared, his voice like the edge of a guillotine's blade, final and without mercy. "For this, as sole ruler, I, King Audemars, banish you from the Raignald Kingdom, never to return."

Johan's heart pounded against his ribcage. The king's verdict weight crushed him like a tombstone. His chest tightened as the men advanced, their heavy gauntlets seizing his arms. His body tensed, and he briefly considered fighting. But could he fight them off? The thought lingered until Enfys, standing calmly by, reminded him of the futility. 

If he fought back, there would be no back alley scuffle like in New York. He was in a kingdom, a world of swords and magic, and King Audemars' word was law. Johan was just another outsider, already on the verge of being discarded.

"...Banished? For what?!" Johan's voice filled with frustration. "I'm not lying! I didn't even ask to be here!"

Johan tried to plead his case, but to no surprise, no one heeded them. Instead, the king and the nobles turned their attention to Johan's companions as they stepped forward, begging for understanding.

Maya's eyes widened with panic, her voice trembling. "Please, Your Grace, Johan is not your enemy."

Sarah trembled as she joined in. "He's been with us from the beginning." 

Jake and Chris exchanged uneasy glances, the same fear flashing across their faces before they joined in. 

"He's telling the truth." 

"We swear it."

Standing beside Johan, Jake and Chris whispered urgently.

"What are you doing? You're causing many problems right now if you can't tell."

"Yeah, just answer the question. Or even better, say you don't know."

"I'm telling you guys... I can't..." Johan hissed back. "It's... complicated."

"Fine. I got this..." Chris began, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose before stepping forward. "Your Grace, I know it's not my place, but our friend here has been through a lot. We all have. Couldn't you give him a chance to rest before passing judgment?"

The king studied them, his face softening as he took their heartfelt pleas. After a long pause, he sighed. "Very well. He may stay. But know this: he will never be one of you. He is not part of the prophecy. We shall have him imprisoned until he decides to speak. For now, he is considered a threat to us all."

Johan's gut wrenched as the king's men closed in, leading him away.

"We'll get you out of this," Jake promised, but the distance between them already felt too vast.

For the first time since arriving in this world, the total weight of his isolation hit him. Even with his friends pleading for him, it wasn't enough. 

No prophecy to shield him, no magical destiny to protect him. He was alone—an outsider in every sense of the word—a stranger in his own story.

The king's men led Johan toward the chamber doors. A bitter taste filled his mouth, a taste of injustice. As he crossed the threshold, he turned back, meeting the worried eyes of his friends. The heavy doors of the throne room closed behind him, leaving only the echo of their words ringing in the air.

How had they ended up in this strange world, let alone this alarming situation? They say it's because of a prophecy, but who can say that's true? Johan couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong, that he and his friends were merely pawns in a much larger game—one whose rules he had yet to understand, orchestrated by forces far beyond King Audemars.

"I'm that much of a threat, huh?" Johan chuckled bitterly as the men led him through the castle's corridors.

Johan's thoughts raced, his mind working through possibilities. He needed to find a way to prove his innocence, to show that he wasn't the enemy they thought he was. But how? The system stopped him from revealing what he knew.

As the men led him away, Enfys fell into step beside Johan, his voice barely a whisper. "I've seen men who concealed truths before, Johan. It never ends well. Whatever secrets you're hiding, I'd find a way to speak if I were you—before it devours you whole."

He didn't wait for a reply, his eyes as cold and empty as the stone walls closed around them.

After what felt like an eternity, they arrived at a set of iron doors—cold, damp, and silent, except for the sound of water dripping from the ceiling. One of the men produced a key, the metal scraping against the lock as it turned.

"In you go," one of the men grunted, slightly pushing Johan before slamming the door shut. The clang of metal on metal echoed through the dungeon, a grim reminder of his current predicament.

The cell was small, barely large enough to stretch out, and the only light came from a sliver of daylight filtering through the metal bars of a small window above as Johan sat on the hard stone floor.

"I'll figure this out."

Although his friends were considered the heroes destined to save this world, Johan knew he had a role to play, too, even if he didn't fully understand it yet.

With that, Johan leaned back, letting the cool stone wall support him as he settled in for his stay. He didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but one thing was sure—the system, the prophecy, the Penumbra—whatever game they were playing, he wasn't going down without a fight.