Chapter 1: An Unintended Voyage

Golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling of the ship's grand ballroom, casting a warm glow over the vast room. Glistening marble floors reflected the light, magnifying the brilliance of the space. One end of the room boasted a stage, where a live band played softly, their melodies barely audible over the lively chatter. At the room's centre stood a massive ice sculpture, shimmering in the ambient light, shaped like the Olympic torch, perspiring every so slightly in the warm summer breeze.

Wall-length windows provided a breathtaking view of the endless ocean, while long, elegant dining tables draped in white cloth occupied most of the floor space. Each table was adorned with crystal glassware, silver cutlery, and delicate floral centrepieces. A gaudy banner draped from the ceiling, boldly pronouncing “Youth Olympic Champions Gala.”

A young gymnast flipped a coaster into the air, catching it with grace after doing a swift pirouette. Nearby, a table of swimmers compared hand sizes, arguing playfully about the advantages in their strokes. A pair of fencers mimicked a duel using butter knives, drawing laughter from their neighbours, a group of weightlifters challenging each other to arm wrestling matches.

Amidst the jovial atmosphere, Deo, a young man of average height with wavy brown hair, deep-set hazel eyes and a slight freckle on his left cheek, manoeuvred through the athletes with practiced ease, balancing a tray filled with flutes of champagne. Dressed in the ship’s white and gold uniform, the attire did little to hide his wiry and comparatively delicate build. It was clear that Deo wasn’t an athlete, but rather someone who found solace in the peaceful rhythm of nature, evident from the faint tan on his skin and the specks of soil beneath his fingernails, remnants of his earlier gardening.

The athletes, in their elegant evening wear, chatted animatedly, reliving their moments of triumph and anticipating the night's celebrations.

As he approached a table, he overheard snippets of their conversation:

"Did you see how high that pole vaulter jumped during the finals?" a young archer commented, attempting to illustrate the height with his hand but knocking over a glass in the process.

A judoka nearby laughed, "Almost as high as my spirits when I finally landed that throw. Took me months to perfect!"

A smile twitched at the corner of Deo's lips, but he kept his head down, focusing on his task. The glamour of the room felt alien to him, the ostentation and clamour a far cry from the simple peace he found in tending to his garden. As he weaved between conversations, he overheard snippets of various languages, reflecting the global diversity of the champions. He was in awe of them, these young individuals who had achieved so much at such tender ages. He wondered about their stories, their challenges, their dreams.

Distracted by his thoughts, Deo stumbled slightly, a glass teetering dangerously close to the edge of his tray. Before it could crash to the floor, a strong hand reached out, steadying the glass and saving Deo from potential embarrassment.

"Easy there," a friendly voice said. Deo looked up into the smiling face of a tall young man with a deep tan and a head full of curly black hair.

"Thanks," Deo mumbled, feeling his cheeks heat up. "Sorry, just got a bit lost in thought."

The young man chuckled, "No harm done. I'm Carlos, by the way, Carlos Zambardo. Javelin thrower." He gestured to a medal hanging around his neck, the emblem of his victory.

"Deo," he replied with a small smile, adjusting his tray. "Definitely not a champion, just trying not to drop anything."

Carlos laughed heartily. “I must admit, balancing that tray seems a challenge of its own."

As Deo responded with a bashful smile, Carlos, with a playful nudge, added, "Well, every ship needs its crew, right? And every party its waiters." He winked, playfully nudging Deo with his elbow. Turning to his group of friends, Carlos introduced Deo, "This is the guy who's been keeping our glasses full tonight."

One of the athletes, a young woman with a gymnast's build, raised her glass in a mock salute. " "¡A Deo, el verdadero héroe de la noche!"

Blushing, unused to the sudden attention, Deo nodded in gratitude and swiftly scampered away, continuing on his rounds.

As he continued to serve drinks, his mind began to wander again, taking him away from the cruise ship and the grandeur of the celebration. He pictured his small backyard, filled with blooming flowers, thriving shrubs, and the gentle rustle of leaves. He imagined the rich smell of soil, the refreshing touch of morning dew, and the tranquil sounds of nature. Every now and then, his gaze would flit towards the ocean outside, the vast expanse of blue serving as a silent reminder of the world beyond the room's confines.

As he was setting down a drink, he was abruptly interrupted by a voice dripping with condescension. "You know, you'd move faster without daydreaming so much," smirked a tall, lithe young man with jet-black hair and deep green eyes. His lean physique, honed from rigorous training, was accentuated by his impeccably tailored suit. Swirling the drink in his hand, he continued, "How does it feel to be amidst champions?" Around him, a few athletes chuckled.

"Seriously, Damien, you don't have to one-up everyone," said a young woman, her voice tinged with annoyance.

A smug grin stretched across Damien’s face. "It's not my fault I'm the best, Elena. Some of us are just born champions," he replied, flexing his arm in mock showmanship. His predatory gaze returned to Deo, “Well, waiter, how does it feel?”

Deo's cheeks reddened. "Apologies, sir. Just trying to make sure everything's perfect for the champions," he replied, forcing a polite smile.

Damien leaned back in his chair, eyes scanning Deo from head to toe. "It must be quite the experience for someone like you, being surrounded by winners, by the best of the best. Tell me," he paused, feigning curiosity, "how does it feel to be the most ordinary person in this room?"

A few of Damien's friends tried to stifle their laughter, but it was clear they were entertained. Elena, seated beside Damien, gave him a disapproving look but remained silent.

Swallowing his frustration, Deo met Damien's gaze. "Every ship needs a crew, sir. Not everyone can be the captain, but every role is essential."

Damien chuckled, raising his glass in mock toast. "Well said, waiter. Well said. But how about a real challenge? Think you can serve this entire room in under five minutes?"

Deo hesitated, his gaze sweeping across the bustling room filled with animated champions. "I can only try my best, sir."

Damien smirked, leaning in and grabbing Deo by the shoulder, "Exactly. Just 'trying.' Maybe one day you'll understand what it means to be the best."

As the weight of Damien's words began to settle, an abrupt, blinding light filled the room, halting all conversations and transforming amusement into bemusement. The luminous energy seemed to have a tangible weight to it, pressing down on everyone, making the air thick and heavy. The light felt both cold and warm simultaneously, like sunlight through a winter's mist, sending tingles across the skin.

Deo, with his shoulder still in a vice-like grip from Damien, scanned the room. Around them, the lively chatter turned to cries of alarm. The weightlifter, mid-arm wrestle, tried to pull his opponent under the table for cover. The fencers, butter knives forgotten, held in limp hands. The gymnast, in a bid to find safety, attempted to leap towards a nearby column, but the light seemed to slow her acrobatics, making her movements appear dreamlike.

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The room's opulence faded behind the overwhelming brightness. The chandeliers, the Olympic torch sculpture, the melodies – everything was swallowed, consumed by the omnipresent light.

Time felt distorted. For what felt like both a moment and an eternity, all sounds, sensations, and sights were drowned in that radiant abyss. The grip on Deo's shoulder became the only anchor, a solitary connection to reality.

Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the luminosity waned.

Dizzy and disoriented, Deo tried to stand, but his legs felt weak, unable to support him. The elegant ballroom, the cruise ship, and the vast ocean had disappeared. Instead, they were surrounded by a landscape unlike any they had ever seen. Lush green meadows stretched out, dotted with vibrant, alien-looking flowers. Towering trees with multi-coloured barks rose in the distance, and above, the sky was painted in hues of orange and purple, casting an otherworldly glow.

The gathered athletes looked around, wide-eyed and disoriented. The conversations that filled the room moments ago now gave way to a cacophony of confused whispers and exclamations.

"What just happened?" one voice inquired, echoing the sentiment of many.

"Is this some kind of elaborate joke?" another questioned, her voice laced with genuine bewilderment.

Damien, momentarily silenced by the abrupt shift, finally found his voice. "Alright, who's responsible for this? Some sort of VR experience? A surprise for the champions?"

Deo, despite the change of scenery, felt a strange calm. He gazed around, his mind recalling the plants he so cherished. While these were foreign and alien, there was a familiarity in the simple act of observing nature. He knelt down, fingers brushing against a peculiar flower with luminescent petals. “This isn’t possible” he whispered.

In the distance, a procession approached. At the helm was a distinguished man in elaborate robes, flanked by figures in flowing robes, their staves adorned with symbols and runes, hinting at an arcane nature. Behind them marched an impressive cohort of knights and warriors, their armour glinting in the sun.

"Welcome, brave champions, to the land of Caeloria!" the man's voice boomed, carrying with it both warmth and urgency. "I am Duke Eldrin. You stand upon the very soil that teeters on the brink of apocalypse. An impending darkness threatens to swallow our realm, and only you – the strongest from another world – can save us from it."

A ripple of confusion spread through the athletes. "Another world? Apocalypse?" Carlos exclaimed, mirroring the thoughts of many.

Eldrin nodded solemnly, "Indeed. You've been summoned because you are the best. Our prophecies foretold of champions from another realm who would rise to combat the grave threat we face. The great system of our world will soon welcome you and unveil your true potential."

"Great system? New world?" Elena questioned, her voice tinged with panic. "This has to be some sort of elaborate prank. Right?"

As more voices rose in confusion and fear, a young woman from Eldrin's entourage stepped forward. Her azure cloak billowed behind her, and her sharp eyes surveyed the group. "Silence!" she commanded, her voice echoing through the meadow. The group, though reluctant, fell quiet.

"My name is Liora," she began, her tone more gentle now. "I understand your confusion, your fear. Our methods of summoning you here may seem abrupt, even alarming. But time is a luxury we do not have."

Carlos, defiant, stepped forward, "Send us back. Now!"

Liora exhaled deeply, her gaze downcast. "You must understand, the journey you've taken here is one-way. The Eclarian Shard used in the summoning ceremony was grown in the heart of the Luminescent Caves, a process that took over a thousand years. The power required for the summoning was more immense than we calculated, and it shattered the crystal upon its completion."

A murmur of shock and disbelief echoed through the group.

"We're stranded here?" a runner from the group called out, his voice trembling.

Duke Eldrin stepped forward, meeting the eyes of the athletes. "It's not a matter of stranding. It's about destiny. Caeloria's very essence is now intertwined with each of you. As you stand on this land, you become its protectors, its champions. In time, the reasons will become clear, and the path you must walk will reveal itself. For now, we beseech you: grant us your patience, trust in the process."

The athletes exchanged glances, trying to gauge each other's reactions. Carlos wore a look of concern, Elena appeared on the verge of tears, and many others looked to be in varying stages of disbelief or shock. It was the tall, lithe young man with piercing blue eyes, Damien, who stepped forward with a mocking smile.

"This is all rather dramatic, isn't it?" Damien drawled, looking around the meadow with feigned interest. "I've seen better set designs in a high school play."

Liora's gaze settled on him, her expression unreadable. "This is no play, young man. The fate of our world genuinely rests in your hands."

Damien chuckled, his eyes scanning the entourage behind Duke Eldrin, "And I suppose those are real wizards with their glittering sticks and those 'knights' borrowed their armour from a museum?"

One of the robed figures, a mage, shifted, and a gust of wind suddenly swept across the meadow, lifting Damien's hair and swirling it dramatically. As quickly as it came, the wind ceased.

"Real enough for you?" the mage retorted, a smirk playing on his lips.

Damien's bravado faltered for a moment, but he quickly masked it with a smirk of his own. "Impressive parlour tricks."

Carlos intervened, placing a hand on Damien's shoulder, "Let's not antagonize them, okay? We're clearly not in Kansas anymore."

Duke Eldrin, sensing the rising tension, stepped forward. "Look, I understand this is overwhelming. And I don't blame you for doubting, for being afraid. But this isn't a joke or some staged event. Over the coming days, things will become clearer. You will be given the tools, the knowledge, and the training to rise up as our champions."

Damien crossed his arms, "And what if we refuse?"

Liora's gaze was sharp as she responded, "Then you doom not only Caeloria but potentially your own world as well. The darkness we face knows no boundaries."

Damien's cocky demeanor wavered, and for the first time, he seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation. The group fell silent, each individual wrestling with the reality of their unexpected responsibility.

Amidst the towering figures of athletes, a softer voice, hesitant and filled with trepidation, emerged.

"I, um... I'm not a champion," Deo mumbled, his gaze shifting uneasily. "I was just serving drinks at the gala. Perhaps, do you have a smaller crystal or something? Maybe you can send me back?" He gulped, the absurdity of his request evident even to him. "It's just that... I have plants back home. They'd need watering soon."

There was a short pause. While the gravity of the situation was palpable, the sheer unexpectedness of Deo's concern about watering plants was so ridiculous that some athletes couldn't contain their stifled giggles.

However, Eldrin's eyes, filled with curiosity and understanding, settled on Deo. "While I appreciate the sentiment and the care you have for your plants," Eldrin began with a small smile, "unfortunately, the Eclarian Shard was unique. There isn't a 'smaller' version we can use. Regardless of how you arrived or why, the threads of fate have tied you to Caeloria as much as any of the champions here."

Deo looked down, defeated, but there was a spark of determination in his eyes. Perhaps this new world would have its own gardens that he could tend to.

As the athletes tried to wrap their heads around their new reality, a loud proclamation from someone in Eldrin's procession shifted their attention.

"The Great System approaches!" yelled a herald, his voice echoing throughout the meadow.

All around, Caelorians, from the mages to the warriors, immediately dropped to their knees, heads bowed, muttering words of reverence and worship. The athletes, unfamiliar with the customs, looked around in confusion, though some, out of instinct, mirrored the actions of the natives.

Suddenly, an ethereal light descended from the sky, bathing each person in a soft luminescence. One by one, the athletes were enveloped in the light. Visions of class choices - words and images representing their athletic skills and potential roles in this new world - flashed before their eyes.

Javelin throwers were presented options like "Celestial Lancer" or "Storm Harpoonist." Gymnasts glimpsed choices such as "Skydancer" or "Shadowweaver." Swimmers saw "Wave Whisperer" or "Abyssal Knight." Every champion was graced with choices tailored to amplify their unique talents and strengths.

However, when the light enveloped Deo, there was a palpable moment of uncertainty, a wavering in the brilliance. An ethereal voice, seemingly from the heavens, resonated, [Error detected. Entity not recognised as champion.]

Deo looked around nervously, his heart pounding. "What does that mean? Why am I not recognised?"

The voice, colder and more mechanical, responded, [Mistake identified. Entity is not designated as a champion. Forced relocation necessary for balance.]

Before anyone could react, the light surrounding Deo flared blindingly bright for a split second. When the light faded, Deo was gone, leaving an empty space where he once stood. A collective gasp filled the meadow. Whispers and murmurs filled the air as the champions and the Caelorians tried to process the sudden disappearance of the young man.

"Where did he go?" "What just happened?" "Is he... is he alright?" The questions and expressions of concern were numerous, but answers were scarce.

Suddenly, Deo found himself alone in an unfamiliar, bleak terrain. The ground beneath his feet was rugged and barren, the sky above overcast with dark, threatening clouds. The eerie silence was broken only by the howling of a distant wind.

From the void, the system's voice resonated again, this time directed solely at him: [Welcome, Deo, to the Desolate Wilds.]