They drifted through her consciousness like smoke.
Low murmurs, layered and rhythmic, rose and fell in strange cadence—too organized to be casual, too reverent to be comforting. The sound pressed against her ears, heavy and suffocating, as though she were submerged deep underwater and the voices came from somewhere far above the surface.
Misaki's eyelids twitched.
They felt impossibly heavy, as if something unseen was holding them shut.
When she finally forced them open, white light poured into her vision.
For one terrifying heartbeat, she thought she had gone blind.
Pain flared behind her eyes as her pupils struggled to adjust. Shapes swam in her vision—tall silhouettes looming overhead, their outlines distorted by a blinding glow pouring down from the ceiling.
Stone arches stretched impossibly high above her, engraved with countless sigils that pulsed faintly in crimson and gold. The symbols crawled along the ceiling like living things, radiating a pressure that made her chest feel tight.
As her sight sharpened, the shapes resolved.
Robes.
Long ceremonial robes layered in ivory and deep crimson. White capes draped over rigid shoulders, hems embroidered with gold thread so intricate it hurt to look at for too long. In their hands were staffs and relics—each one bearing a symbol that resembled a cross…
But wrong.
The angles were twisted, the arms bent inward like hooked wings or folded thorns, as if the symbol itself had been distorted by belief.
Their lips moved in perfect unison.
Misaki's stomach clenched.
"…What the hell…?"
Her voice never made it out.
Some kind of cult?
She tried to sit up—
—and froze.
Her body wouldn't respond.
An invisible pressure pinned her flat against the ice-cold marble beneath her. She could feel every groove carved into the stone, every chill seeping through her skin.
That was when she noticed the light.
Beneath her body, a massive summoning circle spread outward across the temple floor. Intricate runes overlapped in layered patterns, glowing blue and silver, humming faintly like a living heartbeat. The light crawled along her limbs, sinking into her skin, vibrating against her bones.
She wasn't alone.
Four other figures lay within the circle.
One by one, they stirred.
The first to rise was a young woman clad in flowing ancient Chinese robes of pale jade and white. Silk sleeves cascaded down her wrists as she pushed herself upright, movements graceful even in confusion. Her long black hair was half-bound with a jade hairpin, her expression composed and radiant—as though she had stepped straight out of a classical painting.
Next came a tall man with sharp features and striking blue eyes. Messy blonde hair framed his face. He wore a sleek black jacket threaded with glowing neon-blue circuitry, metallic plating integrated seamlessly along his arms and collar. Every subtle movement produced a faint mechanical hum, as if his body carried technology that didn't belong in this world.
A third figure rose silently.
A dark-skinned girl with tightly braided hair pulled into a high bun, her movements efficient and controlled. She wore fitted leather armor reinforced with bone charms and etched runes, a long spear strapped across her back. Her eyes swept the temple instantly, sharp and alert—like a predator dropped into unfamiliar territory.
The last was painfully ordinary.
A man in a worn hoodie, jeans, and scuffed sneakers rubbed his head as he sat up, blinking around in confusion. He looked utterly out of place among glowing sigils and divine symbols.
They stared at one another.
Silence stretched.
Different clothes.
Different worlds.
Different eras.
Misaki understood it instantly.
They weren't from the same place.
And worse—
They were all… whole.
Healthy. Radiant. Untouched.
Compared to them, Misaki felt acutely aware of herself. The burn scars crawling along one side of her face. The dull, ever-present ache in her body. The way her clothes hung torn and wrong against her skin.
She didn't belong here.
The man in the hoodie suddenly sucked in a sharp breath.
"Okay—okay, hold on," he said rapidly. "This is definitely not my bathroom."
Everyone turned toward him.
"I was literally taking a dump," he continued, gesturing wildly, "slipped, hit my head, and then there was this insanely beautiful goddess who asked if I wanted to be a hero in another world, and I said yes because—come on—"
He looked around the glowing temple, eyes wide.
"—this isn't a dream, is it?!"
The girl in ancient robes clasped her hands together, eyes shining.
"You met her too?" she said brightly. "The goddess! She said I was chosen to save a dying world."
"Same," the armored girl replied calmly.
"Yeah," the cyberpunk man added with a grin. "Classic isekai setup."
"Me too!" the hoodie guy blurted.
Their gazes shifted.
Slowly.
Toward Misaki.
She swallowed and opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Her brows furrowed. She tried again.
"Ah—"
What escaped her throat wasn't language.
It was broken. Twisted. A warped sound that scraped unpleasantly through the air.
The cyberpunk man frowned. "What's that freak saying? I can't understand her."
"She sounds like she's choking," the hoodie guy chuckled awkwardly.
"Enough," the armored girl snapped sharply, shooting them a glare.
Misaki's heart began to race.
She tried again—forcing air through her lungs, straining her throat.
Still wrong.
Still useless.
Then—
Ding.
A translucent red panel snapped into existence before her eyes.
---
[System Error]
Language Module: Failed to Load
Defect Identified:
• Vocal Output — Incompatible
• Comprehension — Stable
---
Misaki stared at the panel.
…Of course.
She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly.
So the damn goddess decided to make me a mute.
How generous.
Footsteps echoed across the marble.
An elderly man emerged from the robed figures. His back was straight, his expression solemn and unwavering. As he stepped forward, something flickered above his head—something only Misaki could see.
---
[Elder Priest — NPC]
---
Her breath caught.
More panels appeared above the others.
[Temple Acolyte — NPC]
[High Deacon — NPC]
NPCs…?
Misaki's gaze snapped back to the summoned heroes.
Nothing hovered above their heads.
No labels. No categories.
Her pulse quickened.
The summoned heroes were the main characters.
Then what did that make her?
The elder spread his arms wide.
"Heroes," he proclaimed, his voice echoing through the vast hall. "Welcome to the Temple of Radiant Providence."
The robed figures bowed in perfect unison.
"Our world stands on the brink of ruin," he continued. "An ancient calamity stirs—the Abyss Sovereign, sealed centuries ago, has begun to awaken."
The air itself seemed to grow heavier at the name.
"Monsters grow restless. Kingdoms crumble. Hope fades."
His gaze softened as it lingered on the four.
"You were chosen," he said reverently. "Favored by the Creator herself."
Then his eyes brushed over Misaki.
Just briefly.
His expression faltered—only for a fraction of a second.
Then he looked away.
"We offer our deepest thanks to Goddess Irene, the Origin of All Worlds."
The temple echoed with prayer.
Misaki didn't bow.
Kind?
Her?
"This is insane," the hoodie guy whispered breathlessly. "I mean… me? A hero?"
"Yes," the elder replied gently. "The king eagerly awaits your arrival."
He turned toward the altar.
A massive blue crystal rested upon it, polished to perfection. Light swirled within its depths like liquid sky, pulsing in time with the summoning circle beneath their feet.
"Before that," the elder said, "your divine blessings must be revealed."
His gaze settled on the crystal.
"The Aetherium Resonance Stone will judge the favor bestowed upon you."
The crystal flared.
And for the first time since awakening—
Misaki felt something cold coil in her gut.