The air around it rippled as if reality were bending under its presence. Gravity itself seemed to warp at its command, and the atmosphere grew dense, threatening to crush him.
The young man stood frozen in place, his mind struggling to comprehend the impossibility before him. What kind of being could command the very fabric of space like this? His breath hitched as he tried 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 simple gestures, sending him careening through the air. His body struck several floating rocks, which crumbled into dust upon impact. Finally, he landed hard on an expansive island, sprawling across its endless, barren surface.
Disoriented and nauseous, he struggled to his feet, his entire body aching from the ordeal. He turned his head, only to find the figure standing beside him as if it had teleported. Panic surged through him, and he stumbled backward.
"Well, you're still conscious," the figure said, a grin of superiority on its face. Its tone was almost mocking, as if it were amazed the young man hadn't passed out from its display of power.
The young man gasped for breath, his mind racing to process what had just happened. "What… what the hell was that?" he stammered, his stomach churning from the erratic movements and crushing pressure he had just endured.
The figure stepped closer, and instinctively, the young man retreated further, his every sense screaming danger. "What are you?" he asked, his voice trembling.
The figure chuckled, clearly amused by his confusion. "Where are we?" the young man demanded, desperation creeping into his tone.
The figure raised its hand again, and an invisible force slammed the young man into the ground, pressing him face-first against the dirt.
"You're everywhere and nowhere all at once," the figure replied, spreading its arms wide as if to emphasize the boundless expanse.
"That's not a damn answer!" the young man yelled, struggling to lift himself under the crushing weight. His hands trembled as he fought against the force.
"Oh, I see," the figure said, its tone dripping with sarcasm. "You're one of those who doesn't take hints, huh? What an idiot." With a flick of its wrist, it released him from the oppressive gravity.
The young man gasped for air, his body trembling as he pushed himself to his feet.
"Look, where we are doesn't matter," the figure continued, brushing off the question with obvious disdain. "What matters is why we're here." It paused dramatically, clearly reveling in the tension. Then, as if suddenly irritated, it asked, "What's your name, mortal?"
The young man froze. His mind was a blank slate—no name, no memories, nothing. He instinctively clutched his head, pressing his fingers against his skull as though trying to force a fragment of memory to surface. But there was nothing. Only emptiness.
"Amnesia?" the figure scoffed; irritation evident in its voice. "How cliché." Its tone was a mix of contempt and boredom. After a moment of studying him, it sighed in annoyance. "You must've fried your brain when you died. Great, this complicates things."
"When I died?" The young man's eyes widened as he stared at his hands, as if they didn't belong to him. The weight of the words hit him like a hammer. "I'm… dead? Does that mean you're…?"
"God?" the being interrupted, their voice dripping with clear annoyance. "No, I'm not God, but I'm close. I'm… something more complex than that. But these aren't explanations you need right now."
After a brief pause, the being continued, a smirk on their face, a mix of amusement and disdain.
"Well, since you don't remember anything, I suppose I should give you a name, right? How about… Ezra?"
The young man furrowed his brow, clearly uncomfortable.
"Ezra?" he repeated with irritation.
The being shrugged, utterly indifferent.
"Not to your liking? Fine, let's try another. Soto? Carmilio? Gregorio? Kazuma?" they said, throwing out names carelessly while gesturing dramatically. The young man's expression didn't change: a blend of confusion and frustration. "Rudeus, maybe? No… that sounds like the name of a pervert."
The young man put his hand to his face, sighing with exasperation.
"All those names are awful," he said, his tone dripping with resignation.
"Oh, you're picky," the being replied, crossing their arms and tilting their head as if judging him. "In my opinion, all human names sound ridiculous."
Suddenly, their eyes lit up with a spark of mockery, as if they'd had a revelation.
"I've got it! Daion. It means 'electricity' in the language of the gods."
A mocking smile spread across their face as they watched the young man's reaction, who seemed even more bewildered.
"Electricity? Why electricity?" the young man asked, trying to make sense of the choice.
The being let out an exaggerated sigh, as though the question were the most absurd thing in the world.
"Again, with your pointless questions," he said disdainfully. "Daion sounds good, doesn't it? Plus, you don't have many other options."
"Stop beating around the bush and answer already. What the hell do you want from me?" Daion demanded, standing up to face the being, a mix of anger and frustration in his stance.
The god observed him with curiosity before letting out a long sigh.
"Finally, a decent question," he said, as if genuinely surprised.
Daion clenched his teeth but stayed silent, waiting for a clear answer.
"You died," the god began, walking calmly from side to side, as if imparting a lesson to a particularly slow child. "That means your soul, technically, no longer belongs to you. It's the property of the universe. And I… well, let's just say I have the ability to 'borrow' whatever I please from the universe." The god stopped and looked at him with exasperation.
"I need you to do something important for me. Is that clear?"
Daion frowned, crossing his arms.
"It's not," he replied.
The god snorted, clearly irritated.
"Are you sure you're not a little slow?" he muttered to themselves, though loud enough for Daion to hear. "Let me break it down for you: How do you call someone who does something for another person who won't do it for themselves?"
"A messenger?" Daion replied, his tone sharp, eyes filled with disdain.
The god glared at him, clearly offended.
"No, idiot. Something more… epic."
he stopped, tilting their head as if searching for the right words.
"A hero. That's it."
Daion shook his head.
"That's not what 'hero' means."
The god stood up straight, clearly losing patience.
"Will you shut up?" the god snapped; their tone as sharp as the gravity they seemed to control. "There are many definitions of a hero, but that doesn't matter. Here's what does: there's a world in danger, being invaded by corrupt beasts. What you, in your limited understanding, would call monsters and demons. I need you to be the hero that world needs."
Daion raised an eyebrow, processing the information with distrust.
"I think I get it. This sounds like the stories I used to hear…" He paused, as if trying to remember something more specific. "Does that mean I'm some kind of chosen one?"
The god let out a dry laugh, laced with sarcasm.
"Chosen? Please. You're the fifth I've sent there, not counting the ones sent by other gods."
"So, I'm just another random human you picked?"
"Basically."
Daion clenched his fists, frustrated.
"And how the hell do you expect me to save a world I don't even know? And why can't you do it yourself?"
The god raised an eyebrow, as if vaguely impressed.
"Look at you, asking relevant questions now." Their tone dripped with mockery as they circled Daion, sizing him up. "I'll answer just one. I'm not sending you to that world with this puny mortal body. I'm not that cruel." They stopped for a moment, as if thinking, before muttering to themselves. "Although, you wouldn't be much use when everyone there can use omega energy."
Before Daion could ask what that meant, the god snapped their fingers. Suddenly, a dark glove appeared in their hand, adhering to their skin as if it had always been part of them. In front of Daion, a two-handed sword materialized out of nowhere, floating with a sinister aura and a simple but unsettling design.
"This is my gift for your help," the god announced with a sly smile.
Daion looked at the weapons warily, trying to make sense of it all.
"It's an artifact that'll make my life easier, right? Like one of those stories… my advantage?"
The god laughed derisively.
"Easier? Advantage? Not at all." he leaned in, with an intensity that seemed to pierce Daion's very soul. "Let's just say I've made things more… equal."
Daion frowned but nodded slowly.
"Alright… how do they work?"
For the first time, the god seemed genuinely amused.
"Ah, a last good question. Maybe you're not so stupid after all." But their tone quickly turned mocking again. "Too bad I can't waste more time explaining it. Figure it out yourself."
"What? Wait…"
Before Daion could finish his sentence, the god snapped their fingers once more. The ground beneath Daion opened up, revealing a vast green landscape in the distance. The young man felt gravity betray him as he fell helplessly into the unknown.
"Wait, you son of…!" Daion yelled, but his voice was swallowed by the wind.
The god, still smiling, watched the void as the young man disappeared.
"Good luck, 'hero'," he said with a mocking tone, emphasizing the last word as if it were an inside joke.
As Daion plummeted, he looked up, furious and terrified. With all the air in his lungs, he threw one last declaration toward the god.
"Son of a bitch!"