Daion tumbled through the sky, flailing helplessly as the unforgiving wind tossed him around. Fear gripped him as the ground rushed closer with terrifying speed. Judging by the distance, he estimated he was about three kilometers above the surface.

His eyes darted over the landscape: in the distance, ruins of cities lay in smoldering despair, their remains shadowed by towering pillars of smoke. To one side, jagged dark mountains loomed over a crimson-hued wasteland, while on the other, lush green fields and majestic peaks painted a starkly different horizon. Above all, a floating mound of earth hovered eerily in the air, like an island defying gravity.

Directly below him, a small meadow appeared like an oasis amidst a dense, brooding forest. The positioning felt almost deliberate. "That idiotic god probably planned exactly where I'd land," Daion thought bitterly, clinging to his sarcasm to stave off panic.

He struggled to stabilize himself, but the wind was relentless. Resigned, he shut his eyes and began counting down the seconds until impact. Yet just before he collided with the earth, his fall halted abruptly, leaving him suspended five meters above the ground. He hovered momentarily before being unceremoniously dropped onto his back, the impact leaving a dull ache throughout his body.

"Did you really think I'd let you escape so easily?" a mocking voice echoed in his mind. Then, silence. Only the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft murmur of water filled the quiet that followed.

"Go to hell," Daion muttered, wincing as he sat up. His surroundings felt like they had been plucked straight from a fairy tale—vivid green grass, vibrant flowers, and towering trees forming a natural barrier around the meadow. Nearby, a crystal-clear lake shimmered in the sunlight, its centerpiece a striking statue.

A few meters away, the sword the god had given him landed with a dull thud. Daion approached it but hesitated to pick it up. Instead, his eyes fell on his right hand, still encased in the strange glove he couldn't understand. The blue gem embedded in its palm glimmered faintly under the sunlight.

"Strange," he thought, curiosity overriding his caution as he tried to remove the glove. But it wouldn't budge. No matter how hard he pulled, the material seemed fused to his skin, as if it had become a part of him. Even attempting to peel it off caused pain. Frustrated, he grabbed a stick and tried to pry it off, to no avail. Finally, he gave up with a sigh. "Great. Now I look like a biker... forever."

A rustling sound behind him snapped him out of his thoughts. Grabbing the sword, he spun around and pointed it at the source of the noise. From the tall grass emerged a bizarre creature: a rabbit with round ears and sharp, glinting fangs. It stared at him briefly before bouncing back into the forest.

Confused, Daion lowered the blade and sighed. Thirst gnawed at him, so he made his way to the lake. The water was impossibly pure, reflecting the strange, green-tinted sky above. As he drank, his gaze lingered on the statue at the lake’s center: a woman with dove-like wings, her solemn figure clutching a sword pointed downward. Below the statue, an inscription caught his attention:

"Lake of the Summoned."

He guessed this must be where all the gods' chosen ones arrived. Yet something about the place felt eerily vacant, as if no living creature dared to approach. The silence was almost unnatural.

Taking another sip, he noticed his reflection in the water. His short, brown hair looked annoyingly practical, something he felt he might’ve been forced to maintain, though he couldn’t remember why. A faint scar bisected his eyebrow, adding a rugged edge to his otherwise unkempt appearance. But what truly unsettled him were his eyes. They blazed with a bright, almost unnatural blue, like twin flames.

"Still," he muttered with a wry grin, "not bad looking, huh?"

He chuckled, but the sound faded quickly as he looked up at the sky. That’s when he noticed something even stranger: the swirling green clouds above formed a perpetual vortex, its center marking the spot where he’d fallen. Beyond it, two radiant orbs blazed in the heavens, their brilliance unmistakable.

They were stars.

This was a binary system.

Daion stared at them, unease curling in his gut. He had no memories of where he came from, no home to long for. But something about this place felt wrong, like a puzzle with pieces that didn’t quite fit.

A gust of wind rustled through the trees, carrying with it a faint, acrid scent. Smoke.

He turned sharply, eyes narrowing as he spotted a thin column rising in the distance.

His only lead.

With one last glance at the lake, he tightened his grip on his sword and stepped toward the forest.

He had no idea what awaited him beyond the trees.

But whatever it was, he was about to find out.