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

The heavy double doors of the inner sanctum clicked shut with a muffled thud.

Outside in the pavilion, the summoned heroes stood guard like lifeless statues under the command of the Torment Bands. Inside the private chamber, only two people remained: Goddess Viona and Prime Minister Belis.

The room was lit by a pair of enchanted crystal sconces, casting long, wavering shadows across the tapestries depicting ancient imperial conquests. Viona did not sit on the velvet divan. She stood by a narrow slit window that looked out toward the bay, her fingers digging so deeply into the cold stone sill that her knuckles turned chalk white.

Belis hesitated near the doorway, clutching his velvet sleeves together. His old face was pale, lined with exhaustion and fear.

”Your Divinity...” Belis began quietly, his voice cracking. ”I have ordered the temple signal corps to hold the light-mirrors. But before we broadcast any message toward the flying machine... I must ask. Forgive my insolence, Lady Viona, but why? Why have you agreed to speak with John Smith?”

Viona did not turn around immediately. Her shoulders trembled under the torn golden fabric of her gown.

”You think I have gone mad, Belis?” she asked, her voice dangerously low. ”Or do you believe your goddess has grown weak?”

Belis dropped to both knees in an instant, pressing his forehead against the carpet. ”Never, Your Divinity! I know your glory is eternal! But only moments ago, you swore you would rather tear his heart out than surrender. The court, the high priests, Lord Justin... if word spreads that the Sun Throne is begging for terms, the remaining provinces will shatter into dust.”

Viona let out a bitter, ugly laugh that held no trace of divine grace.

She finally turned around.

In the dim light of the crystal sconces, her face looked gaunt. The divine radiance that usually made her skin look like flawless porcelain was gone, replaced by a gray, sickly pallor. Her starry golden eyes were bloodshot with pure venom, humiliation, and deep exhaustion.

”Begging for terms?” Viona hissed, stepping away from the window. ”Do you truly think I intend to hand my empire over to that little E-rank rat?”

Belis raised his head slightly, blinking in confusion. ”Then... the negotiation?”

Viona walked over to the low wooden table and kicked a fallen chair aside.

”Look at our reality, Belis,” she spat, crossing her arms over her chest. ”Look at what has happened to us over the past four days. For three months, I told myself that boy was an anomaly who got lucky with a few explosive artifacts. I believed that once our legions assembled and our wards were raised, their tricks would amount to nothing.”

She stopped directly in front of the kneeling Prime Minister, her gaze boring into him.

”And what did they do? Did they challenge my paladins on the plains? Did they send their champions to duel mine? No. They stayed five leagues away on the water. They flew above the clouds where no arrow or spell can reach. Without risking a single drop of their soldiers’ blood, they obliterated my foundries in Valora. They crushed the dragon caverns in Morvath. They dropped our grand bridges into the river and turned our granaries into cinder.”

Viona clutched her head, her breath turning ragged and furious.

”They did not fight us, Belis! They dismantled us! Like a butcher carving meat off a bone, piece by piece, while we sat in this damned city staring at the horizon! And when I finally stepped out to meet them with the highest magic this world possesses—fire, water, lightning, and ice—what happened?!”

She raised her trembling, blistered hands toward her face.

”They didn’t even flinch. They swatted my phoenixes out of the air with flying iron darts. They blew my tidal serpent apart with gunpowder. They absorbed the lightning of the heavens through their metal hulls, and they shattered my glaciers with falling bombs! Every drop of power I spent was wasted on cold, unfeeling machines!”

Belis swallowed hard, his throat dry. ”It is... a nightmare, Your Divinity.”

”It is worse than a nightmare,” Viona snarled, her voice dropping into a harsh whisper. ”It is an impossible battle. We cannot win this through standard warfare. Ayanokoji’s calculations are correct. If we stay locked inside this barrier, our food will be gone in twenty days. If they drop their bombs on the water aqueducts, the people will riot within forty-eight hours. The fifty thousand men who were supposed to guard these cliffs have already scattered into the hills. We have no army left to fight outside.”

”Then... the screaming outside? In the pavilion?” Belis asked timidly.

”A front,” Viona said coldly, narrowing her eyes. ”A ruler cannot show terror in front of generals like Justin, or they will slit our throats in our sleep to buy their own lives from the Americans. I had to project absolute fury. But pride without a plan is just suicide, Belis. Continuing this war as it stands means the total annihilation of the Holy Solarian Empire.”

Belis let out a heavy breath, his shoulders slumping. ”So... we must yield to his demands? We must hand over the summoned heroes?”

A slow, twisted smile spread across Viona’s bruised lips.

It was a cold, venomous grin that made Belis’s spine shiver.

”Yield?” Viona purred softly. ”Surrender? To John Smith? Never.”

She leaned down, her golden eyes burning with dark malice.

”John Smith was summoned to this world as a weakling. An E-rank reject whose stats were so low the summoning circle barely glowed. In his mind, he believes he has backed a goddess into a corner. He believes his carrier strike group, his flying birds, and his high-altitude bombs have broken my spirit. He thinks I am shivering on my throne, ready to sign whatever treaty he puts before me.”

Belis’s eyes widened. ”You want to lure him in.”

”Precisely,” Viona whispered. ”Modern weapons require distance, Belis. Their power lies in their machines sitting miles away, governed by radar arrays, engines, and computers. But John Smith himself? He is still just a mortal man of flesh and blood.”

She began to pace slowly across the carpet, her confidence returning as the scheme took form in her mind.

”When you send the signal to that drone, you will tell them that Her Divinity acknowledges the tactical reality. Tell them that Port Solis is prepared to discuss an immediate ceasefire and the terms of an imperial capitulation. But add a strict condition: such a historic treaty can only be negotiated face-to-face between the heads of state. Demand that John Smith come to the neutral ground at the harbor entrance to receive my submission in person.”

Belis stroked his gray beard, a glimmer of realization dawning in his eyes. ”And if he comes...”

”If he comes, he steps within arm’s reach of three S-rank champions,” Viona said, her voice dripping with venom. ”And then we kill him.”