The last thing ███████ remembered was the screech of tires, a blinding flash of light, and then… nothing. No pain, no fear, just an endless void. It was eerily peaceful, almost comforting, if it weren't for the ever-present dread gnawing at the edges of his consciousness.
"Is this it? Is this the end?" he thought, unable to speak or scream. Living a life of quiet desperation, he felt like a nobody, a ghost drifting through the mundane. Would anyone even notice he was gone? His life had been a monotonous cycle: wake up, commute to a soul-crushing job, eat bland takeout, watch mindless television, do some light workouts, go to bed, and repeat. He had never climbed a mountain, never gone on a joyride, never attended a big party, and never had the courage to confess his feelings to that barista with the kind eyes. He had spent his life accumulating "stuff" – a slightly nicer car, a slightly larger apartment, a slightly better physique – all in pursuit of a happiness that always seemed just out of reach.
"I wasted my life, didn't I? Is there even an afterlife?" he pondered in the void of time and space. "What's the point of it all if it just ends like this? A flicker, a spark extinguished before it could truly ignite..."
Suddenly, the void was pierced by a blinding light. It wasn't the soft, comforting glow of a distant star, but a harsh, pulsating red, like a beacon of impending doom. It pulsed and throbbed, growing larger and larger, until it consumed his entire field of vision. Kairos felt a surge of primal fear, a desperate urge to flee from this terrifying, alien light.
"Do not despair, mortal," the voice boomed, shaking him from his stupor. "You have been chosen."
“Chosen? For what?” ███████, a man who blended seamlessly into the background, a shadow in the crowd. He was average in every way imaginable. Not poor, not rich. Not handsome, not ugly. Not particularly intelligent, not particularly stupid. Not in tip top shape but not out of shape either. He had no grand ambitions, no burning passions. He simply existed, a cog in the vast, indifferent machine of humanity.
"Chosen for a grander purpose, mortal," the voice continued, ignoring his unspoken questions. "To restore balance to a world that has forgotten its benefactor."
███████, still adrift in the void, felt a flicker of… interest? The word 'benefactor' intrigued him. It implied a higher power, a divine entity. Was this… God?
"You will be my champion, my instrument of retribution," the voice declared, its tone hardening. "The world has turned its back on me, and they will pay the price."
Retribution? Champion? Instrument? the epitome of mediocrity, was to be… a warrior?
“Heroes were brought in from other worlds when a Demon Lord was causing havoc, bringing their lands to the verge of destruction. In their time of despair, they prayed, brought me offering, sacrifices, for that I rewarded them with the Heavenly Champions, a group of otherworldly warriors, from your world to be exact, they were chosen as heroes to repel the Demon King. Undoubtedly, with my power they won the war. After the war though, they forgot me, my followers dwindled, those ungrateful mortals prayed and worshiped the champions I created over me. You will be my solution to that problem.”
Something stirred within him. A flicker of excitement, a thrill he hadn't felt since he was a child, playing make-believe with his imaginary friends. Chosen? By whom? A god? A grin spread across his face. He, the man who had always played the role of the quiet observer, the background extra in the grand theater of life, was about to take center stage. He would be feared, respected, maybe even… admired.
“You must gather strength of your own and followers of mine, hunt down those ungrateful heroes when the time comes. Then, you will be rewarded my true champion.”
A wave of dizziness washed over him, and the void began to shift. Colors, vibrant, began to bleed into the darkness. Shapes emerged – fantastical plants, towering edifices, landscapes of impossible beauty.
"This is your new reality, ███████," the voice rumbled, "A world yearning for a strong hand, a world that will once again kneel before its rightful god."
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His heart raced as he felt a surge of anticipation. This was it. His chance to break free from the monotony of his existence, to finally be… someone.
He found himself standing in a lush, green meadow, sunlight filtering through the canopy of unfamiliar trees. He wore a simple yet sturdy suit of chainmail, cool against his skin. But it was the helmet that truly startled him. Instead of a visor or eye slits, it was adorned with a series of ominous, gaping holes, resembling the sockets of a monstrous skull. It wasn't just the appearance that unnerved him; it was the weight, or rather, the lack thereof. It felt impossibly light, as if it were made of something other than metal, perhaps an ethereal substance.
In his right hand, he clutched a sickle, its curved blade gleaming menacingly in the sunlight. With its simple appearance, you could hardly tell it apart from a farming sickle, but looks can be deceiving. It felt strangely light in his grip, almost weightless, yet radiated an aura of power that sent shivers down his spine. It wasn't just the weapon itself, but the sensation that pulsed through his arm, a tingling energy that seemed to hum with an ancient, otherworldly force. He felt a strange kinship with the weapon, as if it were an extension of his own will, a dormant power awakening within him.
A voice, deep and resonant, echoed through his mind. "These are your gifts, champion. The helm of insight, and the sickle of subjugation. They will grow in power as you do, reflecting your devotion to your divine purpose."
Impeled to the change in his changing condition, cautiously extended his hand to a helmet. It was ice-cold, yet strangely comforting. He almost sensed it, the sheer power radiating from it, a raw, unruly energy, which matched the newfound purpose that awakened within him.
He held high the sickle, the blade gleaming in the sun. It felt… right. As an extension of his own volition/appendage, i.e., instrument of annihilation and being made. He could already envision himself wielding it, carving a path through this strange new world, shaping it according to the god's divine plan.
A sense of exhilaration washed over him. No ordinary game this was; it was a god's order, a test of his power, a way of becoming a god's instrument of fury. The ordinary man was no longer satisfied to be in the shadows. He was about to be immortalized as a legend in the annals of history, for the first time he was feeling such a great ambition.
Suddenly, a translucent screen shimmered into existence before him, displaying a series of lines of text.
[Character]
* Name: ________
* Level: 1
* HP: 100/100
* MP: 20/20
* Strength: 5
* Agility: 6
* Intelligence: 4
* Wisdom: 3
* Charisma: 2
* Skills:
* [None]
Blinked, bewildered. It was like something out of a fantasy video game he'd played years ago. "What… what is this?" he muttered, his voice echoing slightly in the helmet.
The voice in his mind chuckled. "Another small gift to aid you on your journey, champion. This will allow you to track your progress and understand the potential within you."
Intrigued, he began to explore. He could see that his attributes were quite low, reflecting his ordinary life before his summons and perhaps the dwindling power of the god he now serves. He also noticed a blank space under “Name” and 'Skills,' indicating that he had yet to learn any abilities in this new world and have yet to gain an identity in this new reality.
"Kairos..." He entered a username he used when he was still a teenager playing video games, when he was inspired by a Greek mythology, and it mentioned a god named Kairos, the god of opportunity, of seizing the moment. As soon as he finished typing his name, a faint tingling sensation spread through his arm, and two new lines of text appeared in front of him:
Skills:
* [One-handed Weapons Mastery (Beginner)]
* [Divine Spellcasting (Beginner)]
To be continued....