A/N: Sorry I haven't been uploading recently, but I've had police and family stuff to deal with lately.

SUPER STRESSED!

In the meantime however, please enjoy a preview from one of the two light novels I'm writing based on ideas I got after writing my Dingir x FF9 fanfiction, though this one goes in a different direction.

I am making this story available for free on this site (for now) as I upload chapter by chapter, volumes on amazon, barnes&noble to follow when I can afford cover artwork. Click on my profile to find this story. (Four chapters currently uploaded.)

Maybe I'll try a kickstarter or something?

What do you think?

Anyway, enjoy.

Another world Hero: who summoned an author to save the world?

Preview: A stray bullet, not truck-kun

'You've got to be kidding me!'

(slowing heartbeat)

'After everything that's happened...'

(coughing blood)

'I get killed like this!'

(slowing heartbeat)

The author stares up the ceiling of the bookstore, panicked fans and staff surrounding him, one was trying to apply pressure to the gushing wound in his chest, while another called for an ambulance. But they wouldn't make it time, he could tell. He couldn't even feel the pain anymore, his entire body had gone numb. With desperate effort, he lifted a blood soaked hand, regarding it, as his sight began to darken.

'I finally succeed in my dream...and I get killed...by a stray bullet?'

A robbery had occurred nearby, the criminals and police had started shooting at each other, and as they fled to the back of the store to safety, a single ricocheting bullet hit the author right through his heart and lung, heavily damaging the life sustaining organs.

(the heart stopped beating)

(a pained gasp)

The author's eyes began to close, only darkness surrounding him. A single angry thought echoed in his mind. 'What kind of sick joke is this, what kind of God would let me die like this?'

(He died)

Scene change: White void

The author awoke, he was floating in a seemingly endless white void.

"Huh, so there is something after death," he remarked with mild surprise, regarding his surroundings, or rather lack of. "No women, booze, or television...well this is going to suck."

"Well, I don't know about that," said an amused voice behind him, whispered into his ear.

The author heavily elbowed the person in the nose on instinct, turning he batted aside their flailing arms, and readied a punch, while grabbing him by front of his robes with his other arm.

"Please wait!" yelled the stranger in fear, making the author pause. "I mean you no harm."

The stranger was a man in his later years, wearing a brilliantly white robe, and an impossibly well manicured beard, he also had a golden halo hovering above his head.

"So who are you?" the author asked, his features irritated. "And if you say God, I'm going to hit you again."

The stranger began to laugh awkwardly, and refused to answer.

"Seriously?"

"Yep!" The stranger, now known as God replied. "Welcome to the wheel of reincarnation, normally an angel would handle this, but seeing as you weren't meant to die, I figured I would handle your situation myself."

A vein pulsed dangerously on the author's head, his gripped tightened, making God "Eeep!" in distress.

"Care to explain that, I feel some personal responsibility coming from your direction, what was meant to happen, huh?"

God sweat dropped, regretting not sending an angel. "The stray bullet was meant to kill one of your fans, they were destined to become a vile killer in a few years, so we decided to sort things out early, as Hell is getting overly full, but then the bullet just missed that person and got you instead...Sorry about that."

The author promptly head butted God.

"You kill me, ruin my life, take me away from my family, and you say...Sorry about that?!"

"Ouch!" complained God, "on the plus side, when you were dying, the person who was supposed to die tried to stop the bleeding, it traumatised them when you died, and now they're a doctor, so well done," God said with a cheesy grin and a thumbs up.

"That's...It takes years, if not decades to become a Doctor," a sudden sense of dread of hit him. "How long have I been dead?" he asked.

"Hmm? About fifteen years, I'd say?" mused God. "Time is rather different here after all."

The author slumped forward in defeat, letting go of God, who sighed in relief. 'I'm dead anyway, so I suppose it doesn't matter.'

God took a dramatic pose, hearing the man's thoughts, he replied. "It does matter, because we ruined your life and you saved a soul destined for evil, I as the God of this world, I owe you a favour, so how about being reincarnated in another world?" he asked. "We've been doing a lot of that lately, and it seems to work out well, though Truck-kun has been overworking lately...I think he just likes running over Japanese people."

"There's no way I'm being reincarnated," rejected the author. "I refuse to have a second childhood, and I'm not Japanese."

"You're so hard to please!" complained God. "Fine, I'll send you as you are into another world, I'll even give you a blessing, as that world is full of magic and monsters, something to help you out, so what would you like?"

'It's not like I have any better options,' mused the author, the alternative was to stay in this place, or go wherever it was dead people went. "What kind of power?" he asked. "Wait, I actually get to choose?"

"Sure, though there are limits of course, but feel free to be creative," replied God. This part was always fun, some chose some very interesting powers, a recent world traveller had wanted magically powered technology, they really didn't want to let go of the internet.

The author didn't need any consideration on the subject of what power or blessing to choose. "Look into my mind, and see the weapon I created in my Grey Faction series: Balmung. Just give me that."

'Balmung?' thought God, thinking of the legendary weapon wielded by Siegfried/Sigurd, also known as the Gram, depending on which saga you referenced, the actual origin of that legend was almost as old as the epic of Gilgamesh. God place a hand on the author's head and began reading his mind, he was surprised by the twisted, almost maddened nature of it, yet controlled by a far more ruthless practicality. This human would make an interesting, albeit terrifying world traveller.

God viewed the thousands of thoughts on the custom Balmung's history, form, power, and meaning. It was a tremendous legend in the making, but it was possible to make such a blessing, though he would need to limit it in a few small ways, a living weapon that was one with its host, capable of changing shape and storing limitless power, and using it against new foes. Hundreds of other minor aspects spun together into its legend and myriad of abilities and utilizations. In the saga of the young man's creation, it had devoured countless demons and Gods. He would make this Balmung, but it would be empty, he would have to fill it and grow it with his own efforts.

"Well?" the author asked, the man's features stoic, but a subtle hint of hope, a childish desire built of one who creates. God could understand this, he was much the same.

"It's doable," God replied, "but it won't have demonic power stored inside it, you must feed Balmung yourself," he held out his hand, and a mass of darkness swirled into existence, a predatory killing intent subtly leaked from it. "Here."

The man grinned, something he had created in fiction had been brought to real life. "Heh Heh," he chuckled, and without hesitation he stuck his hand into the mass of darkness. "Come, Balmung," it was spoken softly, but it was clearly an order, and Balmung responded, with a ghastly shriek as it burrowed beneath his skin. The author screamed as invasive agony invaded his body, he fell to one knee, breathing heavily. It was inside of him.

Acquired: (Blessing) Balmung Custom

A synthetic voice sounded in his mind, accompanied by a game-like chime.

'What the Hell?' he thought. Was God ripping ideas right out of manga and light novels?

God began to glow, radiating a power that reflected his position, the author stood before the deity with wide eyes, which faded to be replaced by a grin and a competitive gleam in his eyes. "Next time we meet, I'll be more powerful than you," he wasn't sure why he said it. But it felt right. To be able change a world or circumvent death.

God laughed. "That power is a destroyer, but try and become a creator in this new world if you wish."

Light engulfed the world traveller's senses, it was beginning.

"So what should I call you now?" God asked. "Dingir?" making reference to the wielder of Balmung within the books, one based on the author himself.

"No, I am not so grand yet," he replied. He considered it, he had died in Japan, so why not? translating his name into Japanese, he answered. "For now, call me Midori."

"What a cute name for such a scary looking man," God laughed, and before the now named 'Midori' could retort, the bright lights whisked him away to another world. At that exact moment, a bus of school kids crashed and fell to their deaths, and an old king summoned his kingdom's heroes.

Scene change: Another world

Midori suddenly found himself in a gigantic throne room, filled with bright colours, gold, and the many nobles and royalty watching me with glee and awe. He looked down, a summoning circle still glittered on the red floor. He had been summoned it seemed, but he wasn't alone. Around him were at least a dozen teenagers, all short, skinny brats, Japanese by their features, but they had ridiculously bright hair colour and eyes, and clearly they were surprised by it as well, before they noticed where they were.

"Welcome to the Kingdom of Finas, brave heroes!" announced a man in royal garb, his crown and fingers packed with gold and jewels. "We have summoned you to save our kingdom!"

'Oh fuck this!' thought Midori.

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