The Steel Shielder

Silver-toned Summoning

Naofumi was not happy at what had seemingly just occurred. Especially with the almost cliched isekai trope feel this whole scenario had to it.

He had been waiting for his final piece of luggage at the airport after a nearly 4 month long overseas trip when a fairly thin book seemed to have fallen out of another person's bag. Upon learning it wasn't that person's property he chose to skim it while he waited for the final flight to finish unloading his gear.

Once he had managed to finish the book and grab his massive trunk, he began to head to the busses. The almost cliche story right out of an isekai light novel managed to keep his mind off of his jet lag once he'd turned t into lost and found, only to keep popping into his mind for the rest of his trip home.

Unfortunately for said traveling young man, right as he made to cross  the road from the bus stop to the train platform that headed to his home city a blindingly bright flash of light enveloped his world, searing pain tearing through him as he doubled over his luggage.

To onlookers, however,  the young man seemed to have fainted from a sudden-onset migraine or something before being run over by a train that ran locally via street-embedded tracks. By the time paramedics arrived, all that could be used to identify the man was mangled silver rods, a warped and nearly unrecognizable body, and the small box holding dozens of medals and ribbons within.
——————————————————
Upon coming to from the aforementioned incident,  the first thing he noticed other than the hard outer layers of his trunk-like bags was a dark cobblestone floor and the voice of a man reciting something not out of place in video games and anime.

The next thing he noticed was that he was actually in some sort of basement room surrounded by some group of monks or cultists, a trio of similarly normal-looking males a few years younger than himself to his left starting to right themselves as well.

Carefully, the black haired 25 year old stood while taking stock of his apparent carry-on luggage. Sighing in relief that his equipment and valuables were with him and intact, the lithe man began to take stock of the situation he was in.

'Okay so I seem to be the oldest of the normal looking crowd here. Based on my luck this past decade I'm guessing I got Isekaied or some similar bullshit. Ugh. I have my stuff at least so whatever happened probably dragged what I was touching with me. There's a small shield on my arm that has no clear straps or other method of being attached and the other three have a sword, a bow and a spear respectively. Spear guy seems pretty full of himself and all of them have been making really entitled comments and demands, even if they did bring up some good points. Sand we're being escorted to see a king or something by the cult-monk guys. Best to keep quiet and focus on keeping my shit intact for now, can't have a repeat of my 18th birthday in Amsterdam where my roommate stole all my cash to spend on a much unwanted hooker to be sent to my side after the events ended that evening...'

Arriving in a far more open-feeling room of the same stone, large windows letting in light  and marble columns holding up ornate balconies angled towards a throne, Naofumi settled off to the side and listened for a bit. The king resting in the throne seemed to be in his late 70's at best and kept going on about the hero's needing to stop these supposed waves of catastrophe before being sent home.

Once the little sales pitch for an adventure right out of some JRPG had concluded, introductions began.

"I'm Itsuki, age 17. I'm a high school student and you're now hero!" The dirty blond haired teen practically chirped, seeming a bit shy despite his tone of voice based on how he was clinging to his new weapon and glancing around from time to time.

"... Ren, 16. I am the sword hero." So the raven haired male was also still in high school and was apparently going through an emo/stoic loner phase.  This'll be fun. Not.