I Was Summoned as the Weakest Hero, But I Awakened a Military System

John escorted the beautiful elf to a conference room inside the hospital.

The elf was still subtly amazed at an alien infrastructure she had witnessed such as elevators that magically lifted them between floors with a gentle chime, walls fitted with glowing flat screens displaying scrolling biometric graphs, and sliding glass doors that parted seamlessly without a single chant or visible rune.

John led her into a private, soundproofed briefing room. The room was furnished with a sleek, dark conference table, ergonomic mesh chairs, and a panoramic digital display mounted on the far wall.

”Have a seat,” John said gently, pulling out a cushioned chair for her before walking over to a small side counter.

The elf girl hesitated for a second, then sat down. She ran her slender, pale fingers across the smooth material of the chair, bewildered by the softness and lack of rigid wood or stone craftsmanship.

John opened a compact mini-fridge, pulled out a chilled bottle of spring water and a clean glass tumbler, and set them on the table before her alongside a plate of fresh fruit and warm, buttered rolls brought up from the base dining facility.

”Drink some water first,” John advised, pouring the clear liquid into the glass. ”And are you hungry? I can order something heavier from the mess hall if you want.”

Elenore sat up straight, drawing upon every ounce of royal composure and high-elven dignity she had left. She pulled the light-blue patient tunic smooth over her lap and shook her head with a polite, practiced grace.

”Thank you, but that will not be necessary,” she replied, her voice soft and melodic.

GURRRRRRRRGLLE...

A loud, distinctly prolonged rumble echoed from beneath the crisp white scrubs, cutting through her dignified speech with merciless clarity in the quiet, soundproofed room.

Elenore’s delicate speech died instantly in her throat.

Her long, pointed ears turned a vibrant, burning shade of crimson, pinning back in utter mortification. Her cheeks flushed bright pink as her wide amethyst eyes darted down to her stomach, her hands flying down to cover her midsection as if trying to physically stifle her traitorous biological reality.

John couldn’t help the dry, amused smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. He didn’t mock her, maintaining the easygoing professionalism.

”It seems that your body says otherwise,” John said and then grabbed a telephone mounted on the wall beside the briefing console.

Elenore watched with wide, curious eyes as he lifted the sleek black handset to his ear and pressed a short sequence of numeric buttons. There was no incantation, no transmission crystal, yet within two seconds, a faint, crackling voice resonated from the earpiece.

”This is Eagle Actual,” John spoke into the receiver, his tone authoritative yet casual. ”Have the DFAC prep a high-protein recovery tray. Grilled chicken breast, steamed rice, roasted vegetables, and a hot beef broth. Deliver it directly to Conference Room B on the third floor of the medical wing. Priority.”

”Copy that, Eagle Actual. In transit in ten minutes,” the voice on the other end responded crisply before the line disconnected with a soft click.

John hung up the receiver and turned back to the conference table, pulling out the chair directly across from her and sitting down.

Elenore was still clutching her stomach, her pointed ears glowing bright pink against her cascading silver hair. She stared at the black plastic device on the wall, then at John.

”Was that... a far-speaking enchantment?” she asked hesitantly, her melodic voice laced with quiet wonder. ”I sensed no ambient mana forming a communication circle.”

”Just standard wired telecommunications,” John replied smoothly, sliding the plate of warm buttered rolls and sliced fruit directly in front of her. ”No magic required. Food’s going to take about ten minutes, so in the meantime, eat the rolls and have some water.”

”So your name is Eagle Actual?”

”Ah no, my name is John Smith, Eagle Actual is just my callsign,” John explained. ”How about your name? I believe I introduced myself to you back in the abyss but well, it was interrupted.”

The elf girl gently adjusted her posture, the burning blush on her ears gradually fading to a soft rose as she met his steady blue eyes.

”My name is Elenore,” she answered softly, her voice melodic and clear like ringing crystal. ”Elenore Lunafey.”

”So, Elenore, what actually happened down there? Why were you sealed in a crystal on the sixth floor of that abyss?”

At his question, Elenore’s delicate brows furrowed. She closed her eyes, trying to reach past the thick, impenetrable fog lingering in her mind. She searched for her home, her past, the faces of her people, and the events leading up to her imprisonment.

A sharp, throbbing ache flared behind her temples.

She pressed a slender hand against her forehead, letting out a faint, frustrated breath. The void in her thoughts remained vast and empty, offering only disjointed, shadowy impressions—a blinding golden radiance that carried suffocating dread, the sensation of endless freezing stasis, and nothing more.

Opening her eyes, she looked at John with a mixture of helplessness and vulnerability, her long pointed ears drooping slightly.

”I... I cannot remember,” Elenore murmured, her voice tight with quiet distress. ”I know my name, my language, and the basic nature of my kind... but everything else is gone. Who placed me in that monolith, why I was condemned to that abyss, or how many centuries have passed since that day... the seal has swallowed it all.”

She looked down at her hands resting on the dark table, her slender fingers curling slightly as she realized the extent of her loss.

”I have no memories of my past, John.”

John didn’t look frustrated or surprised. In fact, his expression remained completely grounded and composed. Having seen concussive trauma and combat amnesia during research, he knew pushing her wouldn’t yield answers she simply didn’t have.

He offered her a faint, reassuring smirk.

”You don’t need to force it. The memories will come back when they’re ready. For now, you’re out of that pit, you’re safe, and you’ve got three square meals a day waiting for you.”