Hello everyone.

This idea came to me after watching six episodes of the anime and I knew I had to write it down. I know the anime might be slightly different than the light novel and manga. Keeping that in mind, this story is an AU, meaning some things are going to change. Naofumi is still in Melromarc and is still the Shield Hero. Other things will change, however.

Also, since I've only watched six episodes so far and haven't read the manga (which I will eventually), I will be posting as much as I can until I get caught up with the manga, light novel, and anime.

Feel free to leave comments and tell me what you think. Give me your honest opinion, I'm open to anything. Hope you enjoy the prologue and the chapters to come!

There lives a land where there is beauty and corruption.

At first glance, the beauty of it is enough to take your breath away. From the flatlands with farm animals roaming the grassy terrain to the raged mountains cutting the sky, there is beauty. One might even want to live there. After all, who wouldn't want to live in a land where such beauty exists.

However, there is corruption in that land. A corruption that is deep within the soil. It slowly rises up until it starts to affect the people. Friends turning against each other, a swindler conning a poor farmer out of half of his savings, and those high in power choosing to make others miserable just because.

Such a land is beautiful yet corrupted. A tainted beauty, if you will.

Of course, the corruption is metaphorical. There really isn't any type of darkness living in the soil and infecting the populous. But it makes it sound much more interesting, wouldn't you say?

There is truth to the land being tainted.

And soon, that tainted beauty will cease to exist.

All sounds lost.

That is until one person decided enough was enough.

He is… an important person. How important? Important enough to ask the Gods for wisdom.

This man was in a cave somewhere. Somewhere that only a few people can get to. Important people, like him.

The cave was cold, draining away any heat that might have entered through the opening. Not that the man minded. He loved the cold. It reminds him of the winters he spent with his mother as a young boy. A precious memory he clings to so as to not forget the happiness he once felt.

In the cave, the man traveled deeper and deeper until he reached the end. Upon nearing the end, the moss clinging to the cave began to glow, basking the cave in an ethereal glow of blue. At the end of the cave was a puddle. Not shallow but not deep. Just the right size.

The man kneeled down and dipped his hands into the water up to his wrists. The coldness bit at him, but he didn't let that bother him.

This was how he communicated to the Gods. Only this puddle allows him to see the message of the Gods.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling, the man began to speak in the Old Language.

"Gods, I asketh thee for thy help. The times art changing and danger is looming. Prithee, lendeth me thy wisdom. Alloweth thy flames guideth me to the right answer. For thy answer shall saveth the landeth. Honor to the Gods."

The man pulled his hands back. He cupped his hands and summoned a flame. The ember warmed his hands enough to stop shaking. Extinguishing the flames, the man peered back into the puddle.

At first, all he could see was his reflection.

Then, his reflection began to blur. Quickly, the man reached into his satchel and pulled out a piece of vellum and an inkwell. Uncapping the ink, the man looked back at the puddle. His reflection was gone. In its place were words. Words the man quickly wrote down.

Once he was done, the words faded away until the puddle was just a puddle.

"Thank you, Gods. I shall take your words to heart."

The man left the cave and traveled back to his home. It was located in a small village where nothing happened. The people woke, went to work, came back home, and sleep. The man did this too. Which was why no one suspected how important he is.

Moonlight spilled through the slants of his bedroom window. The man was tucked into bed. But he did not sleep. He stared at the rafters as if they would give him the answers he was looking for. A silly notion, he knew, but the Gods could only give so much information without interfering. That was what they told him through the writings in the puddle.

He was their messenger. Except he wouldn't be delivering any message. All he had to do was wait. Wait and see. Wait for the heroes to save the world.

Turning to his side, his gaze landed on his desk where the vellum sat. That single piece of vellum held part of the answers. The rest was unknown. But the man knew it will come soon.

He closed his eyes and let slumber take him away.

The Shield Hero.

The Apothecary.

The Dancer.

The Spider King.

The Scholar.

The Swordswoman.

The Necromancer.

The Mercenary.

Heroes, strong and brave.

Heroes, fearless and tact.

Heroes, cruel and selfish.

Heroes, just and unjust.

When Kingdom come, there will be one.