Where was this pain and nausea coming from?
There was nothing but total darkness around him. For a moment, he couldn't even tell whether his eyes were open. Then the nausea surged again—stronger this time.
But now he knew where it came from.
Voices—sharp, overlapping, distorted like broken radio frequencies—flooded in without mercy, drilling straight into his skull.
"Ugh—"
In a desperate attempt to endure it, he forced himself to focus. Gradually, the world around him began to take shape.
Several holographic screens flickered into existence, surrounding his curled-up figure in the middle of the void. The sight confused him for only a second before he instinctively began analyzing the situation, especially as the pain slowly started to fade.
On the holographic screens before him, he saw not only himself—from multiple angles—but also a storm of comments and reactions flooding in nonstop.
It looked exactly like the livestreams he used to watch on his own screen.
Except this time, he was the one being streamed.
Kuon straightened his posture and sat up, studying the display carefully. At the bottom-right corner of the screen showing his image, a number was displayed.
341 viewers.
That was his current audience.
Whether that was a lot or not didn't matter. There was something else he prioritized first.
"So, kidnapping? Is this some kind of reality show?"
> Anon12: "Ohhh, he's finally awake."
> Anon13: "Took him long enough, lol. I've seen other Drifter wake up way faster. One of them already made it to Lios on day one."
> Anon14: "Shut up, 13. Not everyone's the same, idiot."
> Anon15: "13's just a troll. I've seen him on other channels spamming the same crap and bullshit."
> Anon16: "Heh. You're all losers, lol."
Kuon's gaze shifted to one of the screens where several anonymous accounts were arguing in the comment section. Every username was labeled as "Anon." Their identities were completely concealed.
That only deepened his suspicion.
Still, he set that aside—for now.
He reached for his fallen monocle, adjusted it back over his right eye, and spoke calmly.
"Are you planning to let me rot here? Come out and explain yourselves."
> Anon26: "Ohhh, calm type? Nice. That monocle's kinda cute."
> Anon27: "Hate to admit it, but yeah, the monocle makes him look smart, lol."
> Anon28: "Lol. Lol. What, you into him?"
> Anon29: "I'm a guy, idiot."
The comments kept rolling in.
Then, at the center of the darkness, a beam of light emerged. It slowly condensed, taking shape—revealing a tall figure of inhuman beauty.
There was no clear way to determine their gender. Their face was too beautiful for a man, too striking for a woman. Their posture carried a neutral elegance that could easily mesmerize anyone who looked at them.
> Anon30: "Ohh?! His Overseer is Schesile?! Lucky bastard!"
> Anon31: "I've never seen them before. Are they strong?"
> Anon32: "Very. I'd let Schesile sit on me anytime."
> Anon33: "Huh?"
> Anon34: "Huh?"
> Anon35: "LMAO."
The comment section grew even louder after the being of light—Schesile—revealed himself.
Kuon ignored the noise as best he could, studying Schesile with wary eyes. Yet even so, he struggled to form a proper comment.
Beautiful.
That was the only word he could settle on.
After a long stretch of silence, Schesile finally spoke.
"Welcome, Kuon Ardent-Laurel. You must be confused about what's happening. Still, I'm delighted that I finally have the chance to speak with you."
> Anon51: "That voice … wait, is Schesile male?"
> Anon52: " … Yeah, that guy who wanted to be sat on is an idiot."
> Anon53: "Still insanely beautiful though."
> Anon54: "Agreed."
Kuon was already sick of the comment feed, but he kept his focus steady.
" … No need for introductions. Just explain what this is."
"Very well." Schesile smiled faintly. "You've likely guessed already, but at this very moment, you are being broadcast to the entire world. And not just you—there are 199 others experiencing the same thing."
Kuon narrowed his eyes and let out a quiet scoff.
"So two hundred people are abducted and displayed to the public? For what purpose? What's your objective? And who are you?"
Schesile's expression barely changed. He simply watched him and let out a soft laugh.
"That's quite a list of questions. Relax. I'll explain everything from the beginning. Brief and clear—just the way you prefer."
With a lazy sweep of His arm, two plush sofas materialized facing each other. They both took a seat.
Schesile began.
"In short, two hundred individuals—including you—have been selected and sent to Lios. A new world where your safety and freedom rest entirely in your own hands. A world brimming with dangers beyond anything you could have imagined in your whole life on Earth.
You will live there, while the people of Earth observe from afar. Ah, yes … you mentioned 'reality show,' didn't you? That may be the most accurate way to put it. Think of it as a reality show where you contestants are dropped at random locations across Lios to begin new lives—whether alongside locals … or fellow Drifter."
'What is he talking about?'
Kuon frowned, staring at Schesile. Just like before, he couldn't read his expression. Nor could he detect any sign of deception in his words.
But judging truth from a brief exchange was something Kuon despised.
" … I'll set aside whether that's true or not for now. Answer my questions first."
He crossed one leg over the other, eyes locked onto Schesile's every movement.
Even the slightest strand of hair shifting would not escape his notice.
"As for our purpose.…" Schesile tilted his head slightly. "If I said it's simply for our amusement—what would you do?"
"Is that your answer?"
With an irritated scoff, Kuon pulled a pen from his pocket and hurled it straight at Schesile's face.
It was the same metal pen he used daily—solid, weighted. If it struck an ordinary person head-on, it would at least leave a bruise.
Of course, that assumed his opponent was human.
And Kuon had already guessed that the being before him could not be called one.
The pen merely bounced off, as if brushed aside by a gentle breeze.
"You're rather violent," Schesile remarked lightly. "Do you have any friends?"
"Stop commenting and answer my questions. You're starting to irritate me."
Schesile let out a soft chuckle, then grinned.
"That is the truth. We chose—and summoned—two hundred of you because we wished to make things … more entertaining."
After a brief pause, Schesile rose to His feet.
The space around them shifted instantly.
The darkness dissolved into a vast landscape—green plains, towering mountains, an endless sea, and settlements that looked as though they belonged to an ancient era. It was far too vivid to be a mere projection. For a moment, Kuon questioned his own eyes.
"We—those you might call gods—have long been trapped in an endless game. All we can do is watch Lios unfold, occasionally rolling the dice to determine the fate of those who live within it—humans, monsters, and the other races alike."
He turned slightly.
"Can you imagine it? Centuries of rolling dice … without ever witnessing true progress in the world we claim to love."
Schesile faced Kuon again, who remained seated.
A wide smile spread across his face—gentle at a glance, yet unsettling to Kuon's eyes—as he stretched his arms as though presenting something magnificent.
"That is why we summoned you—Drifter. We want you to bring back a sensation we have long forgotten. Your existence as pieces from another world is something even we cannot control with dice. An uncontrollable variable within the game … wouldn't that make things far more exciting?"
His grin widened when he noticed Kuon's darkened expression.
"Of course, that is not all we desire."
He continued, "As I mentioned, this world has long ceased to evolve. Lios has stagnated for decades—no technological advancement, no cultural growth, no meaningful change in the lives within it.
They live as though trapped in a primitive age, bound by a structure where only the strong and capable can rule. Frankly, it is disappointing. Well … given the harshness of their existence, perhaps it is unsurprising. Still—disappointing."
'Ah.…'
Though doubt remained, Kuon understood enough.
These gods were not despairing out of compassion for those who suffered.
They were simply bored.
While the people of Lios struggled each day to survive, these gods merely watched—tired of the repetition, craving disruption, dragging hundreds of strangers into their world just to force change.
They were starving for drama.
"Well," Schesile added lightly, "you could say Lios is a world where the strong are the ones allowed happiness."
'Disgusting.'
Kuon made no effort to hide the look on his face—like someone who had just swallowed something bitter.
He no longer paid attention to the comments flooding the holographic screens beside him.
All of this reminded him of the filth he had witnessed back on Earth.
About good people crushed for daring to seek happiness.
About those in power who failed in their duties.
About a rotten world where the deserving were denied their rights, while the powerful indulged in privileges they never should have had.
The images and sounds he kept buried surfaced once more—
Ambulance sirens.
A courtroom.
The offender's sickening face walking free.
His brother's expression, hollowed by despair.
They felt as fresh as if they had happened yesterday.
That memory stirred something he had long abandoned—an absurd idea born from foolish idealism he once believed was childish.
All those thoughts.
All that idealism.
All those ambitions he had never been able to realize—because the world was already broken, and because he had been nothing more than an ordinary human—Resurfaced.
And thus Kuon made his decision.
Unaware—or perhaps fully aware—of the shift in Kuon's silence, Schesile continued,
"Of course, you Drifter will not be sent there empty-handed. We will provide you with what you need to survive—for a time, at least.
Ah, but do not misunderstand. This is not some special privilege or feature—we have not reached that part of the explanation yet. What I refer to is something most inhabitants of Lios already possess."
Schesile clearly saw the thought forming behind Kuon's composed expression.
His smile stretched wider.
Even those watching Kuon's channel began to feel a chill creeping up their spines.
The curve of Schesile's lips—reaching almost to his eyes—no longer carried divine elegance.
It was demonic.
" … Is it power?"
The low voice that cut through the air sent a shiver across the seaside scene that now surrounded them.
It came from Kuon.
He was still seated, head lowered, long hair obscuring his expression.
Then he lifted his face.
The monocle over his right eye caught the fading light, gleaming sharply.
The expression he wore was no longer that of confusion or frustration.
It was hunger.
A focused, burning ambition so intense that even Schesile fell silent for a brief moment.
Receiving no immediate answer, Kuon clicked his tongue softly, then stood—walking toward him.
"Answer me," he said, voice steady but heavy. "You self-proclaimed god. When you say you'll provide us with what we need … is that power?"
Without Schesile noticing when the distance vanished, Kuon was already standing before him, staring directly into his eyes from only inches away.
That gaze—
It was exactly what Schesile had been waiting for.
"Kuh—huhu.…"
He stopped restraining himself.
His body trembled with ecstasy as laughter finally spilled out—laughter he had not released in ages.
"Hehehe … HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! FINALLY! THAT'S IT! THAT'S WHAT I WANTED TO SEE! FUCK! DAMN IT—THIS IS WHY I LOVE THIS IDEA! Summoning pieces from another world? Turning them into Drifter and sending them to Lios? It's the most brilliant idea I've ever heard!!!"
His laughter echoed violently, shaking the space itself.
The scenery shifted again—now revealing something grotesque. Ruined earth. Corpses piled high.
The environment responded to his mood.
"Ahh, this is magnificent. Oh—your viewer count just surged into the thousands, by the way. You're the first one to make me react like this. Doesn't that please you?"
The words only deepened Kuon's irritation.
He did not care about the audience.
He did not care about their numbers.
He grabbed Schesile by the collar, as though on the verge of strangling Him.
"Stop rambling and answer me, bastard. Is it power? If it is—then give it to me.
If this world truly runs on dice you roll … if it truly moves by law and power … then grant me the right to write it."
Schesile was still smiling.
But his eyes turned cold as they met Kuon's.
"To write the law? That is quite an excessive request. I haven't even told you what you will receive."
"Your explanation can wait. I want an answer.
Give me power—and I will give you a spectacle. One that will not only make you tremble with excitement … but fill your heart with fear at my existence."
At that, a smile returned to Schesile's eyes.