As soon as Daion left the meadow, the air grew heavy, almost suffocating. For a brief, terrifying moment, he felt his lungs seize up, as if he couldn't breathe. He clawed at his throat, panic rising—until the blue gem on his glove flared to life. A surge of warmth coursed through his body, and suddenly, he could breathe again.

"So that's what this does," he murmured, flexing his fingers. Somehow, the glove was adapting his body to this strange world.

The forest was immense, its towering trees stretching so high their tops vanished into the eerie, green-tinged sky. Massive roots jutted from the ground, turning the terrain into an obstacle course. Yet Daion pressed on, carefully keeping his eyes on the distant column of smoke.

The deeper he went, the more he noticed the unnatural stillness. The trees were alive with strange creatures—six-legged elk with sleek coats, massive foxes the size of bears with gleaming horns—but they all watched him in wary silence. A metallic-winged butterfly landed on his shoulder, its sharp edges catching the light like a blade. Uneasy, Daion brushed it off.

And then, the ruins appeared.

A village, or what remained of one, lay in smoldering devastation before him. Blood stained the ground, vivid against the ash. Homes had been reduced to skeletal husks. A church stood at the center, its sanctity violated by creeping flames.

Yet there were no bodies.

Despite the overwhelming stench of death, no corpses littered the streets. That, more than anything, sent chills down Daion’s spine.

He stepped cautiously through the ruins, sword at the ready. Among the wreckage, he spotted shattered armor, broken spears, splintered shields—whatever had attacked this place had left no room for resistance.

At the end of a crumbled street, the town hall loomed, fortified with crude reinforcements. Someone had tried to hold their ground here. And they had failed.

Daion pushed open the half-destroyed doors and stepped inside. The interior was worse. The floor was littered with shattered weapons, pools of dried blood, and grotesque remains clinging to the walls. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat and ventured deeper.

Then, he saw them.

Unlike the empty streets outside, here the bodies of the fallen remained. Men in makeshift armor lay motionless, their faces frozen in agony and terror.

"All dead…" Daion whispered, his voice barely audible.

A weak groan shattered the silence.

"The h-horde…"

Daion spun, heart pounding. A man lay sprawled on the floor, barely clinging to life. A jagged piece of metal protruded from his abdomen, blood seeping steadily.

Daion dropped to his knees beside him. “What do you mean? What happened here?” he demanded.

The man let out a bitter laugh, his breaths labored. “Isn’t it obvious…?” His gaze flickered to the glove on Daion’s hand, narrowing with disbelief and resentment. “Another summoned one? Really? The gods think sending more children will fix their mess…?”

He coughed violently, blood staining his lips. His next words came out as a rasp: “Damn the gods…”

And then, he was gone.

“Damn it!” Daion hissed, clenching his fists. Gritting his teeth, he reached forward and closed the man’s eyes.

Then—a sound. Faint but deliberate.

Wood creaked overhead.

Daion’s grip tightened on his sword as he glanced up—just in time to see something descending toward him at terrifying speed.

A massive, grotesque creature landed before him, its impact rattling the ruined building. Its bloated body twitched with unnatural energy, crimson eyes glowing with insatiable hunger. It resembled a monstrous vampire bat, its leathery wings spread wide, claws digging into the earth.

Daion barely had time to react before it lunged.

He swung his sword wildly, managing only to graze its thick hide. The creature retaliated with startling speed, knocking him to the ground. Pain erupted in his arm as its fangs sank deep into his flesh.

A scream tore from his throat. His vision blurred with agony as he desperately reached for his fallen sword, fingers barely brushing the hilt.

Then—the gem in his glove flared.

The sword leapt into his grasp, as though responding to his will. Without hesitation, Daion drove the blade into the beast’s side. The monster screeched, a sound so piercing it rattled his bones.

Seizing the opportunity, he shoved it off him and stabbed again. And again.

The bat’s cries weakened. Then, with a final, shuddering breath, it collapsed.

Daion fell to his knees, panting. His arm throbbed, blood pouring from deep puncture wounds.

But before he could catch his breath, another noise made him freeze.

He turned.

Another bat-like creature stood just meters away, identical to the first. Its glowing red eyes locked onto him, hunger palpable.

Daion gritted his teeth, tightening his grip on the sword. He barely survived one. Another would kill him.

Then—a gunshot.

A deafening crack rang out, and the creature’s head exploded in a burst of gore.

Its lifeless body crumpled to the ground.

Daion’s breath hitched. He turned toward the source of the shot.

A figure emerged from the shadows. Shorter than him, clad in a dark jacket, a scarf covering most of his face. But his sharp, piercing eyes were visible—and they carried a weight that sent chills down Daion’s spine.

"Not bad," the stranger remarked, lowering his rifle. His voice was muffled by the scarf, but sarcasm dripped from every word. "Most don’t even survive the first monster. Looks like you’ve got some potential."

Daion remained on guard, his sword still raised. The stranger merely tilted his head, unimpressed.

After a moment, he reached into his satchel and tossed something toward Daion. Instinctively, Daion caught it—a small, smooth white sphere.

"It’s medicinal," the man said, waving a hand dismissively. "Tastes like crap."

Still distrustful, Daion raised his sword toward him. He knew he didn't stand a chance against the rifle, but he wouldn't be caught off guard again. The man, entirely unfazed, lowered his weapon with an air of indifference. "Who… or what are you?" Daion demanded, his voice trembling despite his attempt to sound firm. "Isn't it obvious?" the man said with a faint trace of incredulity. Slowly, he pushed up the sleeve of his jacket, revealing a metallic gauntlet, like a piece of armor. In its center, a green gem shimmered faintly. "I'm another summoned one."