Well you are probably asking, how I got myself in my current situation, with a giant red dragon staring at me in a place that could give anybody with epilepsy a seizure.
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My name is Arthur Pendragon.
No, not King Arthur. That guy's been dead for over a millennium. I'm just an unfortunate bastard whose parents were so obsessed with Arthurian legends that they decided, completely seriously, to name their newborn son Arthur Pendragon. My First name is Arthur Pendragon. Yes, really.
Growing up in the UK with a name like that was… hell.
In kindergarten it was fine; little kids don't know better, and the few that recognized the name thought it was "cool."
Elementary school? The jokes started. Annoying, but manageable.
Middle school and high school?
Oh, boy.
I was younger, weaker, chronically sickly, and named after a British myth.
That was enough for the universe to say:
"Open season."
I got the full package: beatings, name-calling, and the ever-popular "dump water on him for no reason."
Bullying in its purest form.
Then around my first year of high school… something snapped.
I started training, gym workouts, martial arts, whatever made me less of an easy target.
After a few messy fights, the bullying dwindled. I guess punching one of the main instigators in the jaw does wonders for social relations.
My escape was visiting my grandparents in Texas.
They lived in a quiet farm, and unlike everyone else in my life, they were wonderful. Grandpa showed me the land; Grandma baked pies so good they could probably end three wars and a recession.
After high school, I went into medicine.
It wasn't bad. I had two friends, zero girlfriends, good grades, and a quiet life.
Then I discovered anime and games.
FGO, Arknights: Endfield, Type-Moon stuff, Re:Zero, Danmachi, AOT, SAO, and unfortunately… DXD.
Why "unfortunately"?
Not because of the content.
I just wanted lore, not power obtained through horny energy and suspicious physics.
So I read the light novels.
And, as brains do, mine started asking questions.
"How do pantheons interact?"
"How does magic work?"
"Are devils biologically compatible with humans?"
"How do demigods function genetically?"
"Would someone like Zeus ever have an actual friend?"
Okay… maybe the last one was pushing it.
Eventually I dipped into fanfiction.
Most were terrible. Some were good. A rare few were masterpieces. I spent years hunting for good stories.
Then college ended, I became a doctor, and my hobbies were pushed into the backseat by life, and 36-hour shifts fueled by energy drinks made of… questionable decisions.
One night, after one such shift, I staggered home, failed to sleep, and booted up my PC.
Some time later, I got up to grab a drink, and the world tilted.
Dizziness slammed into me. My foot caught the carpet, and I nearly smashed my skull against the steel edge of my desk. Instinct twisted me so my shoulder took the hit.
Groaning on the floor, staring out the window, I muttered:
"Great… pretty sure I dislocated something. Wait… what's with the light outside?"
I squinted.
A truck was flying towards me.
Flying. Toward the fifth floor.
'Are you serious? Isn't this apartment...'
CRASH.
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When I opened my eyes again, I wasn't in my apartment.
I wasn't even sure I was alive.
A giant red dragon stared down at me, its eyes colder than the freezing winter
"…Uh. Hi? How are you, big guy? Having a nice day…? I'll just… shut up now."
The more I talked, the narrower its eyes got.
We stared at each other in tense silence, until the dragon huffed sharply.
A wave of scorching air forced my eyes closed, and before I could so much as inhale, something warm surged down my throat.
And then…
Darkness.
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Groan.
'Shit… why does my body feel like I got ground through a blender?'
Every muscle screamed. Every joint ached.
Eventually, after what felt like hours, I opened my eyes.
Trees.
A forest. Dense, endless, unfamiliar.
"Am I dead?" I muttered.
Not like I had anything left in my old world.
Everyone I cared about was gone. All that was left was a promise that was impossible to fulfill.
As for my parents…They can go fuck themselves.
I don't care about them.
They never cared about me either.
Before I could spiral further, glowing text abruptly flickered into existence in front of me.
................................................................
Installing…
Successfully installed: "?????????????????" System
The letters carved themselves into the air like light etched into glass.
Summon items. Complete quests. Face trials.
Starting gift sent…
Goodbye, User 000
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I blinked.
"…Wow. What an amazingly insightful description."
Rubbing my face, I tried the usual clichés.
"Open!"
Nothing.
"Stats!"
Still nothing.
"…System?"
A soft chime rang. Reality rippled, and a window snapped open.
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Character Panel
Shows your capabilities in the form of stats and skills.
(Strength – Endurance – Agility – Magic Power)
(Innate Skills – General Skills)
Summoning (10× pulls available)
Use summoning tickets to obtain items, skills, Noble Phantasms of various grades.
Inventory
Stores items. Nothing expires inside.
Quests
Missions assigned to help you on your journey.
Trials (one trial chance available)
????
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He stared. Then sighed.
"A gacha. Seriously. Whoever threw me into this world must've missed the part where my luck is dogshit."
He remembered Fate/Grand Order, the endless saint quartz burned for nothing, except in the bizarre exception where it involved Artoria faces.
Artoria variants, Jeanne, Nero, Mordred, Morgan, Proto Arthur, Gray, didn't matter. If they looked vaguely Pendragon-ish, the banner snapped them straight into his Chaldea.
His friend once joked: "They probably smell a relative, man. They're homing to you like lost ducks."
He shook the memory off and opened the Character Panel.
...............................................................................….
Name: Arthur Pendragon
STR - F+
AGI - F+
END - F+
MP - E+
Skills:
Innate Skills:
A sorrow-laden script unfurled, as though recited by a world that mourns what it never received:
Dirge of the Absent Savior (A++) (Upgradable)
"Here lies the promise of a life severed before its prime.
A would-be savior, stolen by the silence of mortality.
Had fate not claimed you, history itself would have bent around your brilliance.
You were destined to carve new frontiers,
to unravel suffering,
to kindle hope for uncounted millions."
The glow dimmed, then warped, the lament twisting as if something unseen dragged its voice into the void:
"Yet tell me…
By what hand were these miracles truly born?
What price was whispered into your bones?
What entity answered your yearning and wrought salvation in your name?
YOU %#$ @# $% %#$ RVhURU5USU9OCg=="
The final line pulsed like static-ridden grief, as though the world itself refused to reveal the full truth to the absent savior who never lived long enough to save it…