I Was a Loner, but My Class Got Summoned to Another World…

"This…" Roland had no words for what he was seeing—thousands of people crowded into one place, the hopelessness clear in their eyes. Some turned to him with curiosity, others rushed closer, while more joined in upon noticing the commotion.

"Guess this is your big debut, hero… try not to go wild. I'm sure there are still plenty of beautiful girls all over this place."

The king gave him a wink, but Stella wasn't amused.

"We need to properly introduce you. Come—we'll go to the highest point here. They need to see clearly who's going to save them. After that, we resume training, hero. You've got a lot to learn, and just water blades won't help you!"

She grabbed his arm and pulled him forward.

Roland, however, noticed the faint look of disgust the king made behind her back.

They really were alike—so many emotions in so little time.

He was brought to what looked like a plaza, where the crowd erupted into cheers the moment he stepped forward. The sudden attention made him uncomfortable, but with Stella beside him, he managed to endure it.

"As you all know, I am Stell Helstin, daughter of King Halter Helstin. And today, I present to you our new hero—Roland Ashford! We have lived in darkness, but perhaps there is still hope. Hope for tomorrow—to see the blue sky again and to finally take back our land!"

Thousands roared in response to the speech. The crowd became even more frenzied with every movement Roland made.

"Well, don't just stand there. There has to be something you want to tell them, right?"

Stella nudged him forward after finishing her speech.

"What do I even say? You already told them my name… and will they even hear me?" He scratched his cheek, genuinely unsure whether his words would matter.

"Anything you say will matter here. Give them hope. And don't worry about the sound—we have magic for that."

Roland cleared his throat, trying to come up with something. He had always been terrible at speeches and dreaded doing them during school years. Now, all eyes were on him. And he knew—whatever he said next, they'd be listening.

"As you heard, I am Roland Ashford—and I've seen the outside. The tainted sky… the countless abominations. No one should live like this. I will do everything in my power to help rid you of them. Give me time, and we will take back this world—nation by nation—until there are no more bloodsuckers, no more blue, grey, or red-skinned beasts, no more demons!"

He raised both hands high, showing his commitment. The crowd erupted in cheers.

The celebration went on for nearly an hour, filled with introductions and conversations.

Roland met countless people. Each story was different, yet they all carried the same weight. Pain. Loss. Desperation. It stirred something in him—something he couldn't ignore.

By the time it ended, Roland returned with Stella and began training in earnest. He was determined not to fail. Not the grieving parents searching for lost children. Not the orphaned youth still waiting for someone to return. Not the soldiers who had given everything defending their cities, only to lose hope.

Each story carved a new mark in Roland's mind—another sin the demons would pay for.

Three days passed.

On the third, he finally unlocked his next skill—and it was also the day of his first hunt. Not just for demons, but for food. The refugees needed sustenance, and the shelters were barren.

"We're hitting three supply bases today," the commander explained. "Hero, this will be your first real battle. Remember—there will be dozens, possibly hundreds of demons. We're there to take their inventory. If we encounter captured humans, leave them be until the fight is over. If you get attached too early, you'll make mistakes… so listen well."

Roland nodded firmly at those words.

Thankfully, Stella wouldn't be joining this mission—she was far too busy tending to the wounded among the new refugees. Even so, Roland made sure to visit her before heading out.

"I heard you're finally getting away from this place," she said as soon as she noticed him.

"At least for a few hours, you won't have to hear the constant cries and cheers from everyone here."

She had just finished bandaging a boy and quickly approached him, wiping her hands on her sleeves as she did.

"I hope I'll hear even fewer of those when I return," Roland replied. "I can feel it—I should have some kind of healing magic. I just don't know how to use it yet… hopefully with another level, something will shift."

He had thought a lot about leveling lately—how each one seemed to expand his grasp over the domains he'd awakened. There were seven of them. And with every increase in power, the voices of the spirits grew clearer, like whispers offering fragments of guidance.

"Good," Stella said, her tone a mix of weariness and hope. "Kill enough of them to find that spell. I don't think my mana reserves will make it through the day…"

She looked utterly drained.

Roland stepped forward, placing his hands gently on her shoulders to guide her to a nearby chair, but she didn't move.

"Sorry," she murmured. "Just taking a break made me realize how tired I really am… Let me stay like this, though…"

Instead of sitting, she leaned forward, resting her face against Roland's chest. Her eyes closed as she drew in a few slow, steady breaths—silently, as if to ground herself.

Roland chuckled and held her a little closer—until he realized she was on the verge of falling asleep.

Without a word, he effortlessly lifted her into his arms and carried her to an empty bed within the hospital. There, he used the new magic he had recently learned—drawing on the power of the wind spirits to cast a dome of silence around her.

Then, he infused a bit of his mana into one of the gems he had been given—a pure mana crystal. The moment his wind element touched it, the crystal glowed faintly and was imbued with the skill Silent Whisper.

"Now rest… I hopefully won't take long."

He slid a gentle finger along her cheek before turning to one of the attending girls nearby.

"Check on the princess from time to time."

A few minutes later, he was fully armed. Great weapons and armor adorned his frame.

Thankfully, the people here had knowledge of dimensional storage, though the quality was still lacking. His storage was only large enough for three weapons and two sets of armor.

He selected a large broadsword—his main weapon—a greatbow, and a spear. All three had been crafted specifically for him. As for armor, it was heavy and covered his entire body, save for the helmet, which he saved for combat.

"Good, let's go. We'll be riding on Rhijuro's back for most of the journey. Make sure to move in a single line—we need to cover our tracks. The earth mages will be following close behind to erase any trace."

Roland nodded. The creatures they were using were trained and would handle most of the burden. He just needed to avoid pulling too hard on the reins.

As they boarded what looked like a cross between a rhino and a lizard, the group set off, leaving the safety of the shelter and riding into the dead forest, a barren land drained of all its mana.

"Just keep moving! We should reach it within an hour. If any of you need to stop, give the signal. Like I said earlier—we have to maintain the same pace for at least thirty minutes!"

The soldiers accompanying Roland numbered fewer than twenty—but each one was elite in their field. He had only met them briefly, but that short time was enough.

Though he didn't remember all their names, he had memorized their faces.

That was enough for now.

The team was tight-knit and would likely be his long-term squad. He had time to get to know them better.

Two hours in, they halted the long ride and began preparing to infiltrate a large walled fortress.

The challenge wasn't the fighting—it was getting in undetected.

The fortress was protected by several magical barriers.

After observing the structure, they discovered that the mana shielding would temporarily dissipate every thirty minutes.

They'd seen it flicker twice already.

"Alright, we'll have just a few seconds to enter—around fifteen. We'll split into two teams: one to create a diversion and the other to scout and map the interior. Remember, if anything happens, use your markers, and pull out. If there's a general inside or too many demons—we're not dying here today."

The one in charge was Renar—the only one half the team would follow without question.

Roland had no issues with that. He didn't want to lead, especially not when lives were at stake. He was too inexperienced for that. He knew it—and he wasn't going to let pride get in the way.

The eight-person strike team readied itself.

Roland was among them, prepared to fight.

Alongside him were a fire mage, a water mage who specialized in ice, an electric user who wielded gauntlets, a light magic user for warding and healing, and three melee specialists focused on ground magic.

When the barrier flickered out, they moved.

The distraction team breached the outer wall, drawing attention by blasting open a hole near the entrance. Roland's team slipped inside shortly after. He had been assigned to the rear—understandable, given he was new—but he no longer felt fear. He was ready.

As they entered, Roland's eyes took in the scene.

Demons—mostly vampires—were draining humans of blood. Some even sliced off patches of flesh to drink faster. The humans, restrained and broken, didn't even scream anymore.

"We've entered a feeding den," someone growled.

"Kill them all!"

Roland was ready to fight—but he wasn't prepared for such a grotesque scene.

He buckled for a few seconds, struggling to hold back the acid rising in his throat.

He hadn't eaten all day due to stress, so there was only water in his stomach—yet even that threatened to come up.

He stopped breathing and quickly covered his nose.

The stench of blood was suffocating.

Biting down hard on his molars, he forced himself to look—to really look.

The humans were barely more than skin and bones, and the demons… they were eating them like cattle.

A sudden calm washed over him.

He sheathed his spear and instead drew his broadsword. Then, he retrieved several vials of water from his pouch.

To reduce the mana needed for Water Blade, he poured the liquid across the floor.

As soon as it touched the ground, it responded to his will, rising and shaping into blades that floated around him, poised like sentinels.

"You will all die today," Roland said coldly. "So make it easier for me—come at me!"

His voice, laced with mana, rippled through the room. The effect was immediate.

Those with resistance twitched and rushed at him. Those without it froze, paralyzed like deer caught in headlights.

The others—his allies—dealt with them swiftly.

Roland hadn't expected such a strong reaction, but it was welcomed.

His water blades weren't ideal in areas with hostages… but against a group of reckless enemies charging in a straight line?

They were perfect.

Some demons flew.

Others ran.

But each one was marked—every target paired with a floating blade. The ones Roland deemed the strongest… he'd handle them personally.

He gripped his sword tightly, channeling light mana into the blade. It began to hum, trembling with built-up energy, as if anticipating a holy clash.

Good… I might not know many skills yet, but I can still imbue items with mana.

That alone was one of his trump cards.

He dashed forward.

His blade—now a bane to the undead and all things evil—slashed down vertically. The light surged with it.

Ten demons were cut down in a single swing. Those behind them were slain by the radiant wave trailing in its wake.

And it didn't end there.

The water blades shot forward like bullets—each one piercing the heart of its chosen mark.

Within seconds, the room fell silent.

Those who could be saved were already being tended to by the healer. But many were beyond help—some already dead, others too far gone to recover.

Roland turned toward a young girl lying against the far wall. Her eyes were wide with fear, her body trembling. But worse than that—her skin had begun to pale, her veins darkening. She showed the early signs of turning into a ghoul… a vampire's thrall.

He looked down at his blade, then back at the girl, who shivered, struggling to hold on to her humanity.

"Sorry, little one… I was too late."

A single tear slipped down his cheek as he stepped forward.

With quiet resolve, he raised his sword—its light radiating faintly—and purified her before the transformation could take hold.