The silence in the throne room was deafening after the summoning took place. The torches hissed, casting shadows that writhed along the marble pillars. Ethan shifted uncomfortably, every muscle in his body tense. Maya, though pale, was studying every detail around her—the robes of the mages, the embroidery on the banners, and the intricate sigils carved into the floor—as if cataloging each one in her mind for later.

King Gravell of the Kingdom of Arathen rose from his throne. His crimson cloak trailed behind him, and when he spoke, his voice filled the vast hall as if the stone itself carried it.

"You are Ethan Cross and Maya Tanaka, are you not?"

The two of them blinked.

"How the hell does he know our names?" Ethan muttered.

A silver-bearded mage, High Magus Veylan, stepped forward. "Names are tied to souls. When called, the truths of your essence are revealed."

Clearly, that didn't make much sense to Ethan. "Names are tied to souls? That's… not creepy at all," Ethan muttered.

Maya forced herself to her feet, clutching her book tightly as if it were a lifeline. "Why us? Out of everyone in our world, why summon people like us?" Compared to Ethan, Maya appeared to radiate excitement at the opportunity. She was eager to learn as much as she could.

The mage's eyes were solemn. "Only outsiders can wield the gift without corruption. Only those not born of this land can channel the Hero's Blessing. The Binding chooses, not we."

The King lifted his jeweled scepter. "And now, the Oath must be spoken. Step forward." As soon as he spoke, Maya's gaze was captured by the imposing broadsword mounted on the wall behind him. Its gleaming blade, though securely bound with heavy chains, exuded an aura of beauty and craftsmanship that was undeniable. As she studied it, the sword suddenly began to emit a faint, enchanting yellow glow, illuminating the intricate symbols that adorned its surface.

These strange runes, swirling and intertwining like vines, were unlike anything Maya had seen before. The sight filled her with a sense of wonder and anticipation; she felt a strong desire to uncover the mysteries of this world’s magic and language, eager to understand the significance of the runes that hinted at untold stories and ancient power.

Ethan and Maya shared a fleeting glance, their eyes briefly locking in a moment filled with unspoken understanding. Ethan attempted a reassuring half-smile, but it faltered, transforming into a grimace that barely masked his apprehension. Together, they stepped forward, their hearts pounding in unison as they made their way to the dais, the air around them thick with anticipation.

Before the grand throne, a shallow stone basin lay elegantly crafted from dark basalt, its surface polished to a smooth sheen. The basin was filled with a liquid that glimmered like molten silver, casting soft, dancing light across the marbled floor. The air around it shimmered slightly, as if charged with energy. The King, adorned in regal robes that cascaded richly around him, gestured with a steady hand. “Place your hands in the Basin of Vows,” he commanded, his voice resonating with authority and an undertone of reverence.

Ethan raised a brow, skepticism etched across his face. "What happens if we don't?" he asked, his voice laced with a mix of defiance and concern.

Veylan, the enigmatic figure before them, raised an eyebrow in response as he planted his ornate staff firmly on the cold stone floor, the sound echoing through the dimly lit chamber. "Then your souls will wither until only ash remains," he said with a chilling finality, his gaze piercing and unwavering.

Maya inhaled sharply, her heart racing at the weight of his words. "So it's not really a choice," she murmured, a hint of determination burning in her eyes despite the grim reality.

"Not," the King intoned with a gravity that seemed to fill the room, "if you value your lives," his voice deep and ominous, resonating with an authority that made it clear he was accustomed to being obeyed.

None of this made any sense to either of them; the air crackled with tension and uncertainty. For some reason, Maya felt an unexpected thrill, a sense of purpose igniting within her. She couldn’t help but feel drawn to the challenge, as if this dire situation were a twisted opportunity.

Ethan, on the other hand, was engulfed in confusion, his mind racing to process what lay before them. Was this really happening? The sharp tang of fear mingled with a sense of surrealism, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was teetering on the edge of a nightmare. After two back-to-back shifts, exhaustion clung to him like a heavy cloak. It was still possible, he thought desperately, that he was hallucinating. He didn’t exactly put much faith in the terrifying figure standing next to him, but the stakes seemed all too real.

Ethan muttered something unrepeatable under his breath, the string of curses dripping with frustration and uncertainty. His heart raced, pounding against his ribcage as his mind whirled with doubt. He hesitated, his gaze fixed on the iridescent liquid that shimmered ominously in the shallow stone basin before them. A strange, unsettling thought crept into his consciousness: what if he chose not to follow through with this twisted "oath"? It was painfully clear that this ritual was designed to bind them in a quest to vanquish some so-called "Demon King," and each passing second felt like a weight pressing down on him. What if he just walked away from it all?

Dark thoughts swirled in his head, swirling like the fog that clung to the damp earth around them. He envisioned an escape, a freedom from this bizarre fate, when suddenly Maya plunged her hand into the viscous substance with an unwavering resolve.

Ethan groaned, the sound echoing in the eerie silence and snapping him back to the present moment. He repeated his earlier curse, more fervently this time, his frustration boiling just beneath the surface. His moment of uncertainty became an abyss, filled with the dilemma of facing his fears or succumbing to the unknown. Turning his glance towards his female companion—or was she a summonee? The term felt inadequate for her spirited presence—he searched her expression for some sign of reassurance.

Maya met his gaze with a slight, confident grin that sparkled in her penetrating eyes, her expression a mixture of determination and mischief, as if daring him to take the plunge. Her outstretched hand beckoned him towards the oddly colored liquid, a hypnotic swirl of deep blues and greens that seemed to pulse with a life of its own. She was unyielding in her encouragement, urging him to follow her lead, to trust that whatever awaited them was worth the risk.

This was ridiculous. 

This was all a dream. 

This was all-- 

"Fuck it," Ethan muttered, a surge of determination igniting within him as he fell in step with Maya. The weight of indecision had grown heavy and suffocating, and he found himself wrestling with an internal storm that had clouded his mind for far too long. Beneath the layers of despair that clung to him like a shroud, there flickered a fragile spark of hope. He realized, with a jolt, that he didn’t truly want to meet his end—not in the horrific manner the Veylan had described, filled with darkness and finality.

Both of their hands trembled as the silver brushed against their skin like cold fire. It traveled up their arms, igniting something deep within them. Their eyes widened and turned a steely white as the basin flared up, emitting a blue light.

Suddenly, a voice that was not their own whispered in their minds, resonating with an otherworldly echo:  

Do you swear to take up the mantle of the Hero? To stand resolute against the malevolent Demon King, fighting with every ounce of your strength? Will you bleed and endure the trials ahead, wielding your powers for the sake of those who cannot fight for themselves, until the shadows of his darkness are banished from this world forever?

Ethan clenched his jaw, the muscles taut with an overwhelming tension. The urge to scream “no!” surged through him like wildfire, a desperate instinct to rip his hand free and unleash a torrent of curses upon those who had dragged him into this horrifying ordeal. Yet, the heat that flared in his chest pulsed with an intensity that was both foreign and commanding, rendering any notion of refusal utterly futile. With a strained resolve, he ground out the words, “I swear.”

Maya stood frozen, her heart pounding in her ears, each beat echoing her rising anxiety. Her breath came in quick, shallow gasps, as if the very air around her had thickened. Amidst the swirling chaos, she had felt a rush of exhilaration at the prospect of this new life, a life where purpose awaited. So why, in this moment, was hesitation clawing at her resolve? Anguished self-recrimination coursed through her. This was her chance to break free from the shackles of her old existence! Eventually, the weight of her indecision pressed down upon her like an iron hand, unyielding and relentless. With trembling lips, she whispered, “I… swear.”

The silver energy erupted into a radiant blaze, spiraling around their arms and etching intricate, glowing runes upon their skin. The light flickered and shimmered before sinking beneath the surface, leaving a faint sheen as a reminder of the profound bond they had just forged.

Gravell nodded, a satisfied grin spreading across his weathered face. "The Binding Oath is sealed. From this moment forth, you shall be known as the Champions of Aeloria."

The grand court exploded into a cacophony of cheers and reverent cries, the air thick with a palpable energy. Servants bowed deeply, their foreheads touching the cold stone floor, while priests, their eyes shimmering with unshed tears, raised their hands in gratitude and praise.

Ethan blinked, bewilderment etched across his features as he stared at his hand, flexing his fingers as if trying to dispel the remnants of the magical runes that felt embedded in his very essence. "What the fuck is happening right now?" he muttered, a mix of disbelief and irritation coloring his tone. “Great. Just great. Magically shackled in some medieval cosplay disaster.”

Maya cast her gaze downward, fighting to keep her voice steady as a surge of conflicting emotions coursed through her. "At least… we're alive. And if what they say about this Demon King is true..." Her voice trailed off, the unspoken fear hanging heavily in the air. Yet beneath that weight, an undeniable thrill coursed through her veins. She couldn't share this exhilaration with Ethan; it was clear he wanted nothing more than to escape this chaotic turn of fate. As an accountant, he thrived in the safety of numbers and predictability, but Maya found the prospect of adventure intoxicating. Did he truly long to return to a life of dull normalcy when they had the chance to be something extraordinary in this vibrant world?

High Magus Veylan stepped closer, staff glowing faintly. "You will need training. Tomorrow, you shall understand your powers. For now, rest. The road ahead will strip you of all illusions of peace."

Two armored knights approached, gesturing for Ethan and Maya to follow.

As they were led out of the throne room, Ethan leaned close and whispered, "So. We're stuck. No way home until we kill some overpowered demon lord."

Maya hugged her book tighter. "Seems so."

Ethan forced a crooked smile. "Guess this makes us partners, huh?"

Maya glanced at him, eyes uncertain but steady. "I suppose it does."

And though neither wished to voice it aloud, an undeniable weight settled deeper within their bones—the heavy, unshakable truth of fate, now bound in shimmering, silver fire.

The knights guided Ethan and Maya through a labyrinth of arching corridors, their imposing figures casting long shadows on the polished marble floors. The stone gleamed under the flickering glow of torches, while vibrant stained-glass windows flooded the surroundings with a kaleidoscope of crimson and gold. Though the palace was magnificent, its every detail resonated with an alien quality that sent shivers down their spines.

Maya trailed behind, her fingers lightly grazing the cool, rough texture of the stone walls, as though searching for reassurance of their solidity. "This isn't a dream," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath, a thought that echoed insistently in her mind.

Though her voice was soft, Ethan caught every word, a keen observer amidst their strange surroundings. He found himself pondering the impossible. Was she actually finding some enjoyment in this absurdity? The memory of her actions at the basin flitted through his mind, but he quickly dismissed it—no way could Maya be enjoying this. They had been thrust into this land with an ultimatum hanging over them like a dark cloud. "Do this or die," the King’s words echoed ominously in Ethan’s thoughts.

He stole a glance over his shoulder at her, running a hand through his tousled hair. "I was kinda hoping it was a dream. I mean, I've had plenty of bizarre dreams about work before, but none that involved magical blood contracts."

Alas, Ethan found himself reluctantly ensnared by the reality of this world, resignation clawing at his insides as he embraced the bizarre fate that awaited them.