The night before the broadcast, the official EWS account released a single, clipped sentence that functioned like a match dropped into a pool of gasoline.

  [EWS Official: Claval, the adventurer of the other world, will hold an emergency livestream. She will answer viewer comments directly. 20:00 JST.]

  The notification arrived with a synchronized chime on millions of devices, a digital pulse that jolted the globe awake. In the dark of bedrooms and the fluorescent hum of late-night offices, screens flickered to life. The debate, which had been simmering in the darker corners of the internet, reached a boiling point in seconds. Timelines turned into a blur of red notifications and frantic refreshes.

  <> one top comment read, amassing thousands of likes in minutes.

  <>

  <

  > another replied.

  But beneath the skepticism, a sharper, more predatory hunger emerged.

  <>

  By dawn, the trending tags had colonized the top rankings globally.

  #ClavalEmergencyLive

  #IsYuReal

  The world was no longer just watching; it was hunting for the truth.

  ?

  The following morning, Yu’s high school felt like it was vibrating with a strange, restless frequency. The air in the hallways was thick with the smell of floor wax and the low, persistent hum of whispers. It wasn't the usual teenage gossip; it was a heavy, anxious energy that made the skin on the back of Yu's neck prickle.

  "I’m telling you, I heard the government is pulling the strings," one student whispered near the shoe lockers, his voice cracking with excitement. "My dad works in the municipal police, and he said the higher-ups have been acting like they’re expecting a war to start."

  "No way, it’s a marketing stunt," his friend countered, though his hands were shaking as he scrolled through his phone. "It has to be. Nobody just is an adventurer from another world. It’s too polished."

  Yu walked through the gauntlet of rumors, his head down, the weight of his smartphone in his pocket feeling like a lead bar. Every time a student laughed or pointed at a screen, his heart gave a sharp, painful kick against his ribs.

  Harukawa was already at his desk when Yu arrived, leaning back with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. There was a new, sharp edge to his curiosity—a look that suggested he was beginning to see the cracks in Yu’s mundane facade.

  "Hey, Shiro," Harukawa said, his voice loud enough to draw the attention of the surrounding desks. "You definitely know something about this, don't you? You’ve been acting... sus lately. You’ve been looking like a guy who’s seen a ghost."

  Classmates turned, their gazes gleaming with a predatory interest. The air in the classroom felt suddenly thin, the walls closing in. Yu forced his facial muscles into a vague, non-committal smile and shrugged, though his palms were slick with a cold, greasy sweat.

  "I’m as clueless as you are, Harukawa," Yu lied, his voice sounding thin and hollow in his own ears. There’s no way I can tell them. If they knew I was the one she’s calling for, I’d never be able to walk these halls again.

  As the sun began to set, the digital fever reached a breaking point. View reservations for the stream climbed past the ten-million mark, a number so large it felt abstract. Social media had transformed into a global festival of speculation, a sea of people waiting for the clock to strike 8:00 PM.

  ?

  The countdown on the screen hit zero and faded into a void of black. Then, the darkness didn't just break—it dissolved.

  Grains of ethereal light began to swirl, coalescing into a scene that defied the typical limitations of a digital broadcast. It was a stage prepared with the clinical precision of Kaori Mamiya’s research team. To a casual observer, the stone walls, the flickering torchlight, and the impossibly vast, star-choked sky could be dismissed as high-budget CG. But to Yu, who knew the texture of that world, it looked disturbingly, vibrantly real.

  At the center of the frame, a silhouette rose. Claval stood in the center of the artificial ruins, her silver hair swaying softly in a breeze that shouldn't have existed in a studio. The light caught her silver gauntlet—not a painted prop, but cold, scarred metal that had seen real blood. She leaned toward the camera lens, her eyes luminous and piercing. A small, knowing smile played on her lips.

  "Good evening," Claval said. Her voice was crystal clear, bypassing the usual compression of the app. "Is this working? I hope I didn’t keep you all waiting too long."

  The viewer counter didn't just move; it erupted. [Viewers: 12,405,932] The comment feed became an unreadable blizzard of white text, a vertical frantic crawl of shock and adoration.

  <>

  <>

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  "Let me introduce myself properly. My name is Claval. I am an Adventurer of the other world." Claval lifted one hand with a regal, practiced grace. She was calm, her composure as steady as if she were standing before a royal court rather than a lens. The chat boiled over instantly.

  <>

  Claval glanced down at a tablet hidden just out of the frame, her slender fingers tapping against the glass.

  "A question... 'What is my favorite food?'" Claval paused, her smile turning genuine and soft. "Hmm... I’ve grown quite fond of sweets. Specifically, the crepes from this world. The ones with the strawberries and cream. They’re... delightful."

  The comment section surged again, a wave of <> and <> flooding the screen. To the viewers, it was charming world-building. To Yu, it was a reminder of the girl who had sat in his room and looked at his world with wide, hungry eyes.

  "Another question... 'What is my weapon?'" Claval lifted her sword, the sheathed blade looking heavy and functional. "This was a reward given to me by a King. It has seen many battles against magical beasts."

  The trolls and skeptics tried to claw their way back into the conversation.

  <>

  "And what... exactly... is a 'VTuber'?" Claval tilted her head, a look of genuine, innocent confusion crossing her face.

  The chat disintegrated into a chorus of <> and <> The tension was beginning to bleed away, replaced by the voyeuristic thrill of a celebrity interview. But then, the air in the broadcast seemed to shift. The light of the torches grew sharper, the shadows deeper.

  In the Superchat feed, strange, verified accounts began to appear. Their names sent a jolt of alarm through the viewers.

  ￥50,000 — Kasumigaseki_Unofficial: <>

  ￥100,000 — J.S.D.F_Support: <>

  The chat panicked.

  <>

  Claval’s expression sharpened. The playful idol-like facade vanished, replaced by the cold, steel-eyed gaze of a warrior. She ignored the mountain of money and focused on the core of the screen.

  "A question... 'Does the other world truly exist?'" She paused, letting the silence of the studio stretch until it became uncomfortable. "It exists. Every monster, every stone, every drop of mana. This is not fiction. It is not a game. It is a reality that is currently brushing against yours."

  "'Is there an intent to invade?'" The next question appeared, highlighted in red.

  The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

  "We have no desire to seize your lands. We have our own burdens. However..." Claval touched the hilt of her sword, her fingers tightening. "If anyone from your side tries to invade our home... I will deal with them myself. Do not mistake our broadcast for a surrender." Her voice hardened, gaining a resonant, vibrating quality.

  A shockwave ran through the chat.

  <>

  <>

  Finally, a question floated to the top, highlighted by the EWS algorithm.

  <>

  Claval’s eyes softened. She leaned closer, staring directly into the lens, as if she were looking through the millions of screens and into a single, specific bedroom in Japan.

  "To protect Yu," she said. She didn't stop there. Her voice took on an intimate, protective quality that felt like a secret whispered in the dark. "He is alone, caught in the narrow space between our worlds. He carries a burden no one else can see. If the rest of the world refuses to believe him, if the systems try to crush him... then I am the one who must prove his existence. I am the one who will be his shield."

  The comment feed stuttered, then stalled. For a heartbeat, the entire platform seemed to hold its breath. Then, the explosion was deafening.

  <>

  <>

  <> A highlighted question appeared immediately.

  "He’s just a boy. A boy with a voice that reached me through the darkness. But to me... he is the one person I cherish most in all of existence." Claval smiled, a look of deep, possessive affection crossing her features.

  The world outside the screen reacted with the violence of a physical impact. Corporate accounts began quote-tweeting the stream in a frenzy. Foreign media outlets blasted headlines in real-time: THE ANGEL OF THE RUINS SPEAKS. Over Japan, the digital sky was on fire.

  "I will protect Yu. Again and again—every time the sun rises, until the stars themselves go out. I will protect him." Claval raised her chin, her voice echoing with an absolute, terrifying resolve.

  ?

  Yu was hunched over his desk, his room a cavern of darkness lit only by the frantic, flickering blue light of his phone. The comments were flying too fast for his eyes to process, a vertical waterfall of noise, but Claval’s voice was as clear as a bell in his ears. “...The one person I cherish most.”

  The contrast was brutal. In reality, Yu had laughed and shrugged at school, a coward hiding behind a mask of normalcy. But Claval? She had stood before the entire planet, using her own face and her own name, to declare her devotion to a boy who had done nothing but watch her from the dark.

  From the other side of his bedroom door, his mother’s voice called out, sharp with shock. "Yu! Turn on the news! This is getting crazy—that Claval-chan talking in broadcast!" She was likely watching the TV in the living room.

  Yu couldn't reply. His throat was locked tight, his breathing shallow and jagged.

  He scrolled through his SNS timeline. The hashtags #ClavalEmergencyLive and #YuReal were expanding with terrifying speed. People were already dissecting her every syllable, speculating on his identity, and debating the ethics of inter-world romance.

  <>

  <

  >

  The world was roaring, and he was the center of the storm. Yu’s fingers trembled so violently he almost dropped the phone. But beneath the fear, beneath the suffocating pressure of the global gaze, a different feeling was beginning to take root. It was a cold, hard resolve that mirrored the look in Claval's eyes.

  I have to meet Returnee. If Claval was willing to stick her neck out, to throw away her anonymity and her safety to prove he existed, then it was his turn to move. He couldn't stay a "Ghost Voice" forever.

  Yu remembered Mamiya's words. Hoshimine. He searching for his grandchild. The man in the ramen shop. Yu’s eyes hardened, the blue light of the screen reflecting in his pupils like twin sparks of mana.

  "I'm going," he whispered to the empty room. "I'm going to the ramen shop."

  A Transmigration Progression Fantasy

  LitRPG Transmigration Progression Anti-Hero Lead Grimdark High Fantasy Local Protagonist Non-Human Lead

  Death is a minor setback for the Night Lich.

  Quill, commander of the Rotten Scourge and the most feared necromancer of the Westlands, is cornered by the Circle mages. In a final act of defiance, he casts a soul-transfer, only to awaken in the frail body of an elf orphan with his Black magic stripped away.

  Yet fate grants him an ironic gift: a rare White Core fractured by Black. Creation is stained with death and decay, but when light meets darkness, it instead births something strange. Something unique. Something unstoppable.

  Quill will claw his way back to power, forging a new army with centuries of forbidden knowledge. He’ll master reanimation along with creation–and this time, revenge will be absolute.

  But dancing with death always comes at a price, and the Forgotten World doesn't take kindly to a missing soul.