Slowly, he opened his eyes. His head throbbed with a sharp, unbearable pain, as if it were about to explode. His body refused to cooperate—every movement was clumsy and heavy, like dragging himself through molasses. It felt as though a million volts of electricity had surged through every fiber of his being, leaving him completely numb.
With great effort, he managed to sit up, lifting his torso while trying to focus his vision. What he saw only disoriented him further. Everything seemed out of place… or at least, that was the impression. And yet, he could feel solid ground beneath his feet. All around him stretched an impossible sight: countless islands suspended in every direction, slowly rotating in an endless void.
He had the strange sensation that something was watching him. He looked around, but found only more islands and empty space.
There was no "up" or "down." Only fragments of land floating in a chaotic, eternal dance. The sky—or whatever it was—was even more unsettling: a bizarre canvas of web-like white strands stretching endlessly, interwoven with vibrant, pulsating colors that glowed in an almost hypnotic way.
Okayyy… What the hell is all this!? he thought, completely bewildered.
Little by little, sensation returned to his limbs, though it came with a burning, intense pain. Even so, he forced himself to stand, his movements slow and strained, as if invisible chains were wrapped around his body.
He struggled to the edge of the island he was on. The weight in his legs made each step an effort. Suddenly, a small rock floated by, and he felt a strange pull toward it—an invisible force drawing him in.
An idea flashed through his mind almost immediately. He turned toward a nearby island, stepped back a few meters, then ran and jumped with all his might. Normally, such a distance would have been impossible for a human to cross, but just as he had suspected, the island pulled him in.
"Nice!" he muttered with a satisfied grin as he landed effortlessly. The moment his feet touched the ground, the heaviness vanished. His body felt light, almost weightless, and walking became easy—like stepping out of water.
Each floating landmass here has its own gravity… and of different strength. This place is insane.
Driven more by curiosity than logic, he began hopping from one floating island to another, hoping to find some clue as to where he was. The place seemed to follow no rules. Some islands had gravity so weak he could cross them in a single leap, while others were so heavy it felt as if the ground itself was trying to crush him.
As he moved forward, he noticed something even stranger: the islands weren't drifting randomly. They all seemed to move in the same direction, as if carried by an invisible current. Intrigued, he decided to follow that flow. Eventually, he reached the center of a massive cluster of floating islands and debris, all spinning like a vortex.
At the heart of that swirling chaos was a radiant sphere of light, glowing with an intense brilliance.
A star? he wondered, surprised. But something didn't add up. The sphere wasn't much larger than a house, and yet the gravity it emitted was immense—so strong that the air around it was being pulled in, tugging at his clothes as if trying to suck him in. Even more disturbing was the eerie calm that filled the area.
It's so quiet... he thought, looking around at the unnaturally still surroundings, as if time itself had frozen. Why is everything here so… strange?
"It's only natural for you to feel that way. You don't belong here."
The voice echoed directly in his mind, a booming sound that nearly brought him to his knees. It was deafening—like the universe itself was speaking. He turned sharply toward the source, his head still pounding… and there it was.
A towering figure stood before him, at least three meters tall. Its skin, a dark bronze hue, contrasted with a mane of snow-white hair that flowed like a frozen storm. Orbiting around it were tiny black holes, spinning with the precision of planets circling a star. Its gaze pierced into him—eyes marked with the symbol Ω instead of pupils, eyes that seemed to see through time itself.
"Enjoying the view, are you?" the being said with a smile. Though its tone was casual, its expression held no warmth. It looked at him the way one might observe an anthill. The air around it shimmered, as if reality bent under its presence. Space itself twisted at its whim; the atmosphere thickened, threatening to crush him.
The young man stood frozen, his mind struggling to comprehend the impossibility before him.
What kind of being is this? He held his breath, trying to make sense of it.
Without warning, the figure raised a hand, and the young man was lifted off the ground. He floated helplessly, flailing as the being manipulated him with the simplest of gestures, tossing him through the air. His body crashed into several floating rocks, which crumbled into dust on impact.
—Hey, what are you…?— Daion shouted as he sped away. —Shit, shit, I'm going to die!!
Finally, he slammed into a large island, tumbling several meters before the being seemed to release him.
Dizzy and nauseated, he fought to get up. Every part of his body ached from the experience. He turned his head… only to find the figure standing right beside him, as if it had teleported. Panic overtook him, and he stumbled backward in fear.
"Well, look at that. You're still conscious," the figure said with a smug smile. His tone dripped with mockery.
The young man was panting, his mind struggling to process what had just happened.
"What… what the hell is wrong with you? And what was that?" he stammered, his stomach churning from the erratic motion and crushing pressure he'd just endured. Still, he pushed himself up with a clear expression of irritation, defying the being's presence.
The figure took a step forward, and the young man instinctively backed away, every fiber of his body screaming danger.
"What are you?" he asked, his voice trembling. The figure burst into laughter, clearly entertained by his confusion.
The figure raised a hand again, and an invisible force slammed him to the ground, pinning his face against the dirt.
"You're everywhere and nowhere at the same time," it replied, spreading its arms wide as if to emphasize the vastness of the surroundings.
"What kind of bullshit answer is that?!" he screamed, struggling to push himself up under the oppressive force. His hands trembled with resistance.
"Oh, I get it," the figure said with mock sarcasm. "You're one of those who don't understand what it means to dodge a question. How cute." With a snap of its fingers, it released him from the crushing gravity.
The young man gasped, trembling as he sat up.
"Look, it doesn't matter where we are," the figure continued, brushing off the question. "What matters is why we're here." It paused dramatically, clearly enjoying the tension. It was playing a game—one that Daion found anything but amusing. "So... what's your name, mortal?"
The young man froze. His mind went blank—no name, no memories… nothing. Instinctively, he grabbed his head, pressing his temples as if trying to squeeze out a single shred of memory. But there was nothing. Just emptiness.
"Wait… what is this? I've got nothing." He gripped his hair and pulled in panic. "There has to be something, right?" But not even a single image surfaced in his mind. It was getting hard to breathe… but not from lack of air. It was pure, unfiltered dread.
"DAMN IT!!"
"Amnesia?" the figure scoffed, visibly annoyed. "How cliché." Its voice was a mix of disdain and boredom.
Daion ignored him, releasing his hair, his eyes wide as he looked around in panic. The figure watched him in silence for a moment before sighing, irritated.
"You must've fried your brain when you died. Great. That complicates things."
"When… I died?" The young man's eyes locked onto the being in shock. The weight of those words hit him like a sledgehammer. "I'm… dead? So that means you're…?"
"God?" the being interrupted, a smug grin tugging at the corners of its mouth. "No, I'm not God. But I'm close. I'm… something a bit more complicated than that. Not that it matters to you right now."
Daion's head was spinning. He struck the ground in frustration.
After a brief pause, the being continued, the same smug smile still plastered on its face:
"Well, since you don't remember anything, I guess I'll have to give you a name, huh? How about... Ezra?"
The young man frowned, visibly uncomfortable.
"Ezra?" he repeated, clearly irritated.
The being shrugged, completely unfazed.
"Not a fan? Okay, let's try another. Soto? Gregorio? Kazuma?" it said, throwing out names at random with exaggerated gestures. The young man's expression didn't change—a mix of confusion and growing annoyance. "Rudeus, maybe? Nah… that one sounds like the name of a pervert."
The young man covered his face with one hand and let out a deep sigh of exasperation.
"All of those names are terrible!" he shouted, finally giving in.
"So picky," the being replied, crossing its arms and tilting its head. "In my opinion, all human names sound ridiculous."
Suddenly, its eyes lit up with a flash of certainty, like it had just had a divine revelation.
"I've got it! Daion. It means 'electricity' in the language of the gods."
A mocking smile played on its face as it watched the young man's reaction—who now looked even more confused.
"Electricity? Why electricity?" he asked, trying to make sense of the name.
The being let out an exaggerated sigh, as if the question were the most ridiculous thing in the world.
"There you go again with your useless questions," it said with contempt. "Daion sounds cool, doesn't it? Besides, you don't really have much of a choice."
"I couldn't care less about the name right now. Cut the crap and answer my questions—or at the very least, tell me… what the hell do you want from me?" Daion demanded, standing up to face the being with a mix of anger and frustration.
The god studied him with mild curiosity before letting out a long sigh.
"Finally, a decent question," he said, as if genuinely surprised.
Daion clenched his jaw but remained silent, waiting for a clear answer.
"You died," the god began, pacing from side to side as if explaining something to a particularly slow child. "Which means your soul technically doesn't belong to you anymore. It's property of the universe. And I... let's just say I have the authority to borrow whatever I please from the universe." He stopped and looked at Daion with exaggerated exasperation. "I need you to do something important for me. Got it?"
Daion frowned and crossed his arms.
"No," he replied flatly.
The god scoffed, visibly irritated.
"Are you sure you're not an idiot?" he muttered to himself—loud enough for Daion to hear. "Let's try this: what do you call someone who does something for someone else, even if they don't want to?"
"A messenger?" Daion snapped back, his glare sharp and full of disdain.
The god shot him a murderous look, clearly offended.
"No, you idiot. Something more… epic." He paused, tilting his head like he was searching for the right word. "A hero. That's it."
Daion shook his head.
"I'm pretty sure that's not what 'hero' means."
The god straightened, visibly losing patience.
"Will you shut up already?" he snapped, his tone as sharp as the gravity he seemed to command. "There are many definitions of a hero, but that's irrelevant. What is relevant is this: there's a world in danger, being invaded by corrupted beasts. The kind of creatures your limited mind would call monsters or demons. I need you to be the hero that world desperately needs."
Daion raised an eyebrow, processing the statement with suspicion.
"I think I get it. I have this vague feeling I've heard stories like this before..." He paused, trying to remember something more specific. "So, I'm some kind of chosen one?"
The god snorted so hard he accidentally spit.
"Chosen one? Please. You're like the fifth guy I've sent there. Not even counting the ones other gods have dumped in."
"So I'm just another random human you picked?"
"Basically."
Daion glared at him, a twitch of anger starting to pulse in his brow.
"And how the hell do you expect me to save a world I've never even heard of? And why can't you do it yourself?"
The god raised an eyebrow, looking vaguely impressed.
"Look at you, asking relevant questions now," he said with a mocking tone as he circled around Daion, sizing him up. "I'll answer just one of those. I'm not sending you to that world in this weak, mortal body. I'm not that cruel." He paused for a second, thoughtful, then muttered to himself, "Though you wouldn't be of much use there unless you could wield Omega energy..."
Before Daion could ask what that meant, the god snapped his fingers. Suddenly, a dark glove appeared in his hand, molding to his skin as if it had always been part of him. In front of Daion, a two-handed sword materialized out of thin air. It floated midair, surrounded by a sinister aura. Its design was simple yet deeply unsettling—a battered, dull blade that looked like it had seen far too many battles.
"This is my gift in exchange for your help," the god announced with a sly grin.
Daion eyed the weapons warily, trying to process everything.
These things look like crap...
"Uh…," he began, recalling fragments of those stories. "Is this some kind of artifact that'll make things easier for me? Like in those stories… my cheat?"
The god burst into exaggerated laughter, clutching his head as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Easier? A cheat? Not even close." Every word dripped with irreverence. He leaned in with a piercing intensity that felt like it cut through Daion's very soul. "Let's just say I've slightly leveled the playing field."
Daion frowned, lowered the sword, and stared him down.
"And what if I refuse?"
"Then I'll simply kill you and erase your soul. A fitting punishment for disobedience," the god said casually.
In that instant, Daion's entire presence was crushed. His figure seemed to collapse inward; darkness crept into the edges of his vision, and his body trembled violently, like it was about to disintegrate... until the god's amused expression returned, and Daion was released.
He gasped for air, eyes wide, and nodded shakily.
"Alright… how do they work?" he asked, still gripping the sword.
"Ah, a good final question. Maybe you're not completely hopeless after all." But his voice instantly took on a mocking tone. "Too bad I don't have time to explain. My schedule's a bit packed, you know—billions of planets needing my attention. Figure it out yourself."
"What? Wait—"
Before Daion could finish, the god snapped his fingers once again. The ground beneath his feet gave way, suddenly revealing a vast green landscape far below.
He felt gravity betray him. He fell helplessly through the portal.
"Wait, you son of a—!" he shouted, but the wind swallowed his voice.
The god, still smiling, peered into the void where the boy had vanished.
"Good luck, 'hero'," he said, heavily mocking the final word.
As he plummeted, Daion looked up, furious and terrified. With all the air he had left, he screamed toward the sky:
"Soooon of a biiiiitch!!!"