Chapter 1: REJOICE! FOR I, ELAISTE- Entity Elaister is forbidden from tampering with the title ever again...

(Elaister POV)

This must be the town.

Finally. After five straight months of chasing these morons across the continent, relying on secondhand rumors, drunk bar gossip, and the occasional corpse, I’ve found them.

On the surface, the place looked normal. Quiet streets. Sleepy rooftops. The usual rundown inn near the town square. But something was off.

There was pressure in the air, like reality was stretched too tight over something sharp. Subtle, but unmistakable to someone like me. An invisible distortion. A dense, warping aura.

Yeah. Classic Hero Syndrome.

I’ve seen enough anime to know this kind of anime nonsense when I walk into it. The “Protagonist™” is definitely here. Probably brooding over some backstory, tangled in a web of romance flags, and radiating just enough power to give the sky emotional lighting.

Whatever. The source is obvious. That inn.

"Perfect." As I put my foot on the door-

-But! Before I break this door down like a normal, well-adjusted person, allow me one quick monologue for the record. Like a good mad scientist should do.

In case a divine being, the readers, or some bored narrator is eavesdropping. Because life is showtime.

So. Hi.

I’m Elaister.

Yes, I’m a reincarnator. Came from a perfectly average modern world. Normal job. Normal bills.

Obsession with tokusatsu? Totally normal.

I spent 70% of my paycheck on plastic belts that lit up and yelled phrases like “STANDING BY…COMPLETE”

No regrets. Not even a little.

Then came the day I got lovingly introduced to Truck-kun, he teasingly and violently nudged me. Dude broke half of my body’s structure sending me to the messily passionate embrace of Asphalt-Senpai.

I woke up in a fantasy forest. Ears too long. Skin too perfect.

Elf status: confirmed.

I named myself Elaister, a fusion of Elijah (cool), Aleister (cooler), and Maister (because I’m the damn genius, thanks).

It’s not even my legal name.

But let’s be real, when you accidentally set fire to your sacred racial tree at age nine, you tend to lose legal standing pretty fast.

Yeah, heard that right.

Set fire. Aflame. Ablaze.

Long story short, banned from elf society.

Tee-Hee.

So, the gods slapped a Title on me like a cursed sticker.

[Title Acquired: THE HERETIC]

-Alignment locked to Chaotic Neutral unless overwritten by higher title
-People of all alignments find you mildly irritating, and you are compelled to be an annoyance to others
-“No Master, No King, No God” Cannot serve another unless willingly. Will instinctively challenge hierarchy. Even strangers.

Did I regret it? Absolutely... not.

Elf society was boring. Obsessed with mana purity, meditation, and chanting poetic bullshit per seconds just to start a fire.

I wanted tech. Explosions. Progress. Collectibles that wouldn’t stop talking once you accidentally pushed a button.

So, I hit the road… It’s not like I had much of an option.

Built stuff. Blew it up. Built more. Blew it up better. Built stuff that not meant to blew up. It blew up anyway.

Almost died six times.

One time I collapsed near a dwarven forge-cave-city. They thought I was some half-frozen merchant kid.

An old dwarf took me in. Grumpy. Brilliant. Probably had brain damage from forge fumes. A fellow heretic.

Taught me everything, runes, engineering, enchantments, demolition.

Let me use his forge once… It may have almost caved in the city.

Tee-Hee

Eventually, I hit a wall. My inventions needed rarer materials, high-tier relics, artifacts, boss loot.

Stuff you can’t buy without royal seals or dig out of ruins without twenty permits and a cleric.

Problem? I’m broke. Banned. Allergic to bureaucracy.

And even with elf-level lifespan, my reincarnated human soul doesn’t have elf-level patience.

Then I heard the rumors.

A Hero party. Backed by royalty. Guarded by the Church. Licensed to enter top dungeons. Gathering sacred artifacts like hey’re on a scavenger hunt.

Jack. Freaking. Pot. Oh, I am about to clima-

Anyway, hero parties attract chaos. And chaos drops loot.

All I had to do was follow the wake of explosions, monster corpses, and whatever plot they left behind.

And now, here I am.

Standing in front of their inn. One foot on the door. One very perfectly legal plan in mind.

Plan: Aura Farming™

Show off  to seem “Interesting”. Get added to the party. Ride the artifact gravy train. Use gathered loot to create…

The Ultimate Transformation Belt.

One that glows. Speaks. Screams. Changes fate. And dropkicks the Demon Lord in the teeth.

It’s not about saving the world. It’s about building the coolest henshin gear in Isekai history.

And the one who defeats the Demon Lord won’t be the Chosen Hero. It’ll be my user. My masterpiece.

Because I’m not the destined one. I’m not the center of the prophecy. I’m not the hero.

But guess what? I don’t want the spotlight. BUT I’M STILL THE MC HERE! THE. MAD. SCIENTIST!

So, if you're listening, divine being, narrator, or future reader…

WITNESS. MY. GENIUS.

CRASH!

Door? What door?

“-Are you the hero”

I asked this with the pride of a goddess descending onto the mortal plane. Smoke still clung to my boots from the door I just kicked open.

Dust motes danced dramatically in the light. My cloak billowed. Everything was PERFECT! 

Except for the guy.

The one I was pointing at.

A shaggy-blond-haired, bag-carrying, disappointment-colored fellow. He looked up from a pile of luggage.

Ew. 

No glowing sword. No flashy aura. Not even the faint scent of divine blessing. Just average. No. Below average. He looked like a background character who couldn’t even make it to the end credits.

Which obviously meant... He must be the hidden power house archetype. Yes. That must be it.

You know the type. Mild mannered. Kind. Secretly overpowered. A true bland protagonist which really filling up the market back then, with at least three female leads fighting over him. 

Yosh, it's decided. 

I leaned in, about to pitch myself as his destined inventor sidekick when-

“HUH?!”

A pair of angry voices exploded into my ear canal.

I turned and immediately got double-team glared.

Stomp-stomp-STOMP.

Two girls marched over like noble storm clouds.

Blondie stomped forward first, looking like a noblewoman dragged from her palace mid-beauty-sleep. Loose white nightgown. Slightly flushed. Her arms crossed with practiced precision. 

Bluey followed, looking equally disheveled, though her bed hair was styled by mana, probably. She radiated that classic ‘I’m smarter than everyone here and will make sure you suffer for it’ aura.

“Did you just ask him if he was the Hero?” Blondie demanded, scandalized.

“Are you brain-damaged?” Bluey added.

I blinked. “...Possibly. Long story.”

Blondie gestured aggressively at the confused guy still crouched by the bags. “That’s our porter. He carries things. That’s literally his entire job.”

Bluey scoffed. “Calling him the Hero is like mistaking a spoon for a sword.”

I choked down a laugh. The poor guy looked like he wanted to crawl under the floorboards and die.

“Oh don’t stop,” I whispered, amused. “This is better than breakfast.”

“P-please don’t say such things about Altair-san…”

A new girl stepped forward, placing herself between the beatdown and the beaten. Soft brown hair, modest white robe, eyes like warm tea.

She had that gentle aura you find in support characters who heal the party and cry in emotionally pivotal moments.

Blondie rolled her eyes. “Sei, we’re just telling the truth.”

Bluey nodded. “He is a mule. It’s just accurate taxonomy.”

The Mule looked like he was trying to disappear into his luggage pile.

I was about to join the trash talking girls because, let’s be honest, this was funny.

Then I heard footsteps from the hallway.

Heavy, confident. With the annoying click of protagonist boots.

He appeared.

Tall. Clean-cut. Black hair, green eyes. Smiling with all the grace of a hero on a recruitment poster.

The “real” Hero.

I could practically hear the imaginary camera zooming in on his smirk and there this sound of his harem chor in my ears that goes aaaaa, aaaaa, Aaaaa, Aaaa, AAAAA. Call it The Hero Advent. 

Also… he had a girl clinging to him. Dark leather, messy hair, bite marks on her neck, probably his.

Her clothes messy, yet completely unbothered. She had this assassin vibe going on so let's call her Hoody.

A night of degeneracy, huh? Noted with a certain scientific interest.

The other two girls, Blondie and Bluey, perked up instantly. They swarmed around him like mosquitos.

I took a breath, dusted my coat, and marched forward.

Time to make my pitch.

“You!” I said

The Hero looked at me. Raised a brow. Mild amusement. He probably thought I was a fan.

“MY NAME IS ELAISTER. THE GREATEST ARTEFACT CREATOR IN THIS WORLD! I’ve been tracking your party across the continent.”

Still blank stares.

“I have a proposal,” I said, sweeping my coat dramatically, the swosh and swash of my coat gave me the upmost aura points.

“You’re the Hero party. Meaning you have permits to enter restricted dungeons. Those dungeons hold rare materials. Materials I WANT.”

The bluey squinted. “For what, exactly?”

“A henshin device,” I said.

“A what now?” Blondie asked, confused.

“Simply put, artifact. Do I need to dumb it down?”

Blondie’s eye twitched. Bluey’s grin just widened.

Bluey crossed her arms. “So you want to freeload off our licenses to build some weird toy?”

“I would support the party. Gear. Explosives. Maintenance. Upgrades people, upgrades! In exchange, I get materials.”

Blondie squinted. “But you...Elaister? Never heard of you.”

Bluey shrugged. “Same. And I’ve memorized every magi-tech-inventor names from here to the coast.”

Even hoody muttered. “Not on the Church’s permit list either.”

And suddenly, the air got colder, judgmental.

My throat caught. “Wait… none of you know who I am?”

“Nope.”

“Never.”

“Not a clue.”

CLANG.

That was the sound of my ego getting hit with an imaginary frying pan.

“W-well, I’m an unconventional genius! I work in isolation! I don’t need fame-!”

“So… self-declared?” Bluey asked flatly.

“Ghh-!” I staggered, as if she’d hit me with a +10 sarcasm weapon. “W-why are all your words shaped like iron buckets...”

Seriously...

...What a pain.

(???)

Hey, ████, can you help me with this work?

████, can I ask you for a favor?

Just like always, ████. It's fine right?

████! ████? ████~ ████.

"Hey, Senpai, about that work... why am I not credited in?"

Huh? Well, you don't need it, don't you?

"But..."

Don't you love masked hero? What the point of having your name known? I'm just asking for a help that's all. It's not your work or anything. After everything I've done for you too...

"I guess you're right... I'm sorry for being such a bother, Senpai..."

That's fine. Just remember who you're. see you, ████.

"Yeah... See you..."

Being a hero is such a pain huh....

...,do I want to do this forever?

“Oh, I get it.”

I stepped forward. Raised my arm. The cube grafted into my prosthetic palm crackled.

“You don’t respect brilliance until it rips a hole through your common sense!”

They all flinched.

“SEI, LOOK OUT!”

Mule leapt, tackling the healer girl like he was suddenly a protagonist.

“THEN WITNESS, MY GENIUS! MY MASTERPIECE! MY PANDORA!”

My cube, Pandora, whined with power.

Purple light exploded outward.

BOOM!

Blondie moved fast. Even half-asleep, she summoned a radiant golden barrier with practiced ease.

[Mighty Will]

CRACK.

The shield quivered. Shimmered. But held.

The blast faded. Everyone stared. Hair windswept. Pajamas flapping in the aftermath.

Blondie blinked. “Wh-what was that strength…?”

I stood tall. Arm glowing. Grinning like a lunatic behind my mask.

"ANYONE WANT TO CALL ME A NOBODY AGAIN!?”

Bluey’s eyes went bloodshot.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING!?”

No staff. No incantation. No tome. Not even a chant under her breath. Bluey just flicked her fingers and four homing beams of compressed mana screamed toward me.

Two straight on. The others flanking from the sides like clever little missiles.

Impresive, she was skilled. A prodigy in a different field than mine. Real recognized real, aight.

Unfortunately for her…

“Mana projectiles don’t exactly work on ME!” 

Pandora flared to life, humming with power as it sucked in the incoming spells like they were noodles in a mana soup.

The beams vanished into a quiet spark of violet light.

Bluey’s eyes widened.

“She absorbed it?!”

Ah. That look on her face. So shocked. So fragile. I wanted to bottle it and drink it as a serotonin booster-

Clank.

My mask pinged an alert from behind. I spun around just in time to see a flash of movement.

My barrier had auto-activated.

Behind me, a sleek hexagonal mana barrier had formed, small but dense.

Someone had tried to stab me.

“Can’t dig in…?” Hoody muttered, flipping backwards mid-air. Her blade had bounced clean off the auto-deployed wall.

Didn’t see her coming, but didn't mean I'm ill prepared for blind spots.

Pandora wasn’t a weapon. Not exactly.

I’d built it for deep expeditions and dungeon dives. A modular dimensional storage system that could compress tools, materials, even my portable workshop. But more than that it also able to store physical force, energy. In simpler terms it also could store attacks.

With my never ending briliance, I also made my pandora a processor too. So, it also could prosses whatever mana or alike into that previous offensive purple vomit beam I did or a reactive barrier.

In other word, I am a genius, duh.

I turned back toward them, grinning wide.

Now that I thought about it, I did recognize these girls.

Blondie was Serah something, some noble knight... Or something... Still Blondie

Bluey was definitely Elira, the mage genius from whathever magic tower. Top of her class. A threat on the battlefield and insufferable at parties.

And Hoody? Had to be Kersel? Kesrel? Kerel? Caramel? Yeah, let's go with Caramel. Kingdom's black dog or something.

A nice lineup. Solid team. No wonder they’d made it this far.

Just as I readied Pandora to vomit another purple beam-

“STOOOOOOP!!”

The white-robed girl threw herself in front of me and the gang. Arms spread wide. Voice cracking.

Her eyes burned with frustration.

I glanced sideways where she had got tackled like the president by Mule.

Mule was in the corner of the room, off-balance. Looked like he’d tried to grab her but failed.

Dude, you had ONE job! Watch your girlfriend! You let the team mom almost get vaporized, her head grilled to well done grade. That wouldn't be good for my presentation! What even are you here for?!

The (probably) Saint, stood tall in front of my damn pandora. She had that expression only people who genuinely cared wore.

And right now, she looked like she cared a lot about scolding me to death.

She started talking. Loudly. No, worse! Scolding! Preaching! Something about endangering people, overreacting, ethics, harmony, blah-blah-blah, blluubllbubbubu something.

Honestly? I tuned most of it out.....

...

...

...

Still here?

...

...

...

She still at it.

...

...

...

Wow, she was really at it.

...

...

...

Don’t worry. The annoyance was mutual.

Then! When I was just about to reboot-

“Heh.”

-The Hero finally spoke. Oh my god, YES, you're really the hero! Please SAVE ME!

Stepping forward from the girls, stopping in front of me with his arms crossed, still smiling like this was all part of the plan.

“You’re interesting, Elaister. Aren’t you?”

Holy shit, he was tall. Or maybe it because I was just shorter. Dude, you're making me jealous.

I tilted my head. “Heh. What’s that, Hero? You impressed yet?”

He chuckled. “I can see what you’re capable of. But attacking my girls before they’ve had breakfast, while they’re still in their pajamas? Not exactly a good look for a ‘Genius.’”

My smile twitched.

“…I don’t appreciate that.”

“You seem to have a rather short fuse.”

“Tch. I thought I was the annoying one. Just cut to the chase. Am I in or not?!”

He held up a finger. “How about this, fight my girls again. Properly. No ambushes. They’ll be in their full gear, and we’ll do it outside, fair and square.”

He looked over at Sei, who was still standing stiffly between us, steam nearly coming out of her ears.

“We’ll find a clearing outside town. Say… noon?”

I blinked. “That long?! Ugh.... if I cook breakfast, will that speed this up?”

All eyes turned to me like I’d just declared I was the queen of england.

“…You? Cook?” Blondie said, skeptical.

Elira just squinted. “Please define cook in this context.”

Caramel raised an eyebrow. “Is this a trap?”

I gasped. "I'm insulted.”

“It'll speed things up if we don’t suffer from stomach cramps.” The hero said with his ever present smirk

My vein was really about to pop. “Show. Me. The. Damn. Kitchen.”

つづく