The sound was faint.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
White lights. The sharp scent of antiseptic. The weight of a body that no longer responded.
He couldn't open his eyes, but he could feel.
The cold.The pain.The end.
Fragments of memory pierced his mind like shattered glass.
Brakes.Headlights.Impact.
Then… silence.
"So this is how it ends?"
His chest burned. His breathing faltered. The machine beside him began to spike erratically.
Biiiiiiii—
And then…
Everything was swallowed by light.
Not the hospital light.
Something older. Denser. Alive.
Runes began to rotate around his body—symbols he had never seen, yet somehow understood. They pulsed with ancient power.
A force tore at his soul as if ripping through the fabric of reality itself.
And in the very instant his heart should have stopped—
He was pulled away from death.
When he opened his eyes again, there was no white ceiling.
There was gold.
Massive pillars stretched toward an impossibly high ceiling. Stained glass scattered colored light across a grand marble floor. Soldiers in silver armor stood rigid, gripping long spears.
He lay within a glowing magic circle.
At the far end of the hall, seated upon an elevated throne, was a man draped in crimson robes, his beard touched with gray.
The King.
The hall murmured in confusion.
"Your Majesty… the ritual activated ahead of schedule…"
The king's brow tightened.
"That is impossible. The experiment was not meant to commence until the next lunar cycle."
His eyes fell upon him.
There was no admiration in them.
No relief.
Only calculation.
"You…" the king said as he descended a few steps. "You were not part of the plan."
He tried to speak. His throat felt dry.
"Where… am I?"
The king ignored the question.
"We were not planning to summon a hero at this time. The teleportation array was still unstable." He sighed. "It seems we pulled someone prematurely."
The words struck harder than any blade.
Prematurely.
An accident.
One of the court mages stepped forward.
"Your Majesty, the teleportation energy has completely restored his body. He is… in perfect condition."
He realized then.
The pain was gone.
His body was whole.
The king turned toward his advisors.
"We cannot afford to train another hero right now. The war is not imminent. Divine energy must not be wasted."
Silence.
Then the verdict came.
"Take him to a remote village. Provide minimal provisions. This matter ends here."
He tried to protest.
"Wait, I—"
But two guards had already seized him.
The king had already returned to his throne.
And the hall had already erased him from its concern.
The journey was long.
Dirt roads. Dense forests. No explanations.
When they finally arrived at a small village surrounded by farmland, the guards simply pushed him off the carriage.
"Do not return to the capital," one of them warned.
Then they left.
He stood there.
Alone.
Nameless in this world.Purposeless.Unwanted.
The villagers watched from a distance.
Whispers followed him.
"Another criminal?""He looks suspicious…""Don't get involved."
His stomach twisted with hunger.
He had no food.No shelter.
The sky darkened.
Then the rain fell.
Heavy. Cold. Merciless.
His clothes clung to his skin. Mud soaked through his shoes.
He walked without direction until he saw a modest stone building with a carved symbol above its entrance.
A church.
He stepped inside.
The interior was quiet. Candles flickered softly along the walls. At the altar stood a statue of an impossibly old man with closed eyes and a peaceful expression.
He didn't recognize the deity.
But in that moment… he had no one else.
His knees touched the floor.
For the first time in his life—
He prayed.
"If someone is listening…" His voice trembled. "I don't know why I'm here. I didn't ask for this. I just… don't want to be discarded again."
The church fell into absolute silence.
Then—
The world shattered.
He stood within a vast expanse of stars.
There was no ground. No sky.
Before him hovered five overwhelming presences.
A voice echoed like restrained thunder.
"Curious."
A man with silver hair and eyes that carried eternity stepped forward.
"I am Aetherion. Supreme God."
To his right stood a woman of impossible beauty, radiating elegance.
"I am Seraphine. Goddess of Beauty."
A man with a playful grin spun glowing dice between his fingers.
"Kael. God of Games."
A gentle woman bathed in emerald light approached him.
"Elyndra. Goddess of Life."
And finally, a towering warrior clad in dark armor crossed his arms.
"Dravok. God of Battle."
Aetherion studied him carefully.
"You were not meant to stand in this story."
Kael laughed softly.
"That's what makes it entertaining."
Elyndra tilted her head.
"He prayed. For the first time."
Seraphine reached toward him.
"And he was sincere."
Dravok narrowed his eyes.
"The kingdom made a mistake discarding him."
Aetherion closed his eyes briefly.
"Very well."
The cosmos began to glow.
"If the world rejected you… we shall acknowledge you."
An immense power enveloped his body.
Something awakened within him.
Something warm.
Something forbidden.
Something that pulsed like primordial desire.
"Become what this world did not foresee."
The light exploded.
He woke with a sharp inhale.
Soft sheets.
A modest but clean room.
He touched his chest.
Alive.
The door creaked open.
She entered.
Long silver hair. Eyes cold as polished ice. Sacred robes flowing flawlessly around her slender frame.
Lyra Valemir.
Her gaze studied him carefully.
"So you've awakened."
Her voice was calm, yet authoritative.
She stepped closer to the bed.
"The magical surge that erupted from you last night… was not ordinary."
She tilted her head slightly.
"Tell me… what exactly happened when you prayed?"
Something inside him pulsed again.
It responded to her presence.
To her warmth beneath the ice.
And for the first time since arriving in this world—
He did not feel empty.