Trapped in Yet Another Stupid World!!

Daion tumbled through the sky, flailing helplessly as the unforgiving wind tossed him around. Fear gripped him as the ground rushed closer with terrifying speed. Judging by the distance, he estimated he was about three kilometers above the surface.

His eyes darted over the landscape: in the distance, ruins of cities lay in smoldering despair, their remains shadowed by towering pillars of smoke. To one side, jagged dark mountains loomed over a crimson-hued wasteland, while on the other, lush green fields and majestic peaks painted a starkly different horizon. Above all, a floating mound of earth hovered eerily in the air, like an island defying gravity.

Directly below him, a small meadow appeared like an oasis amidst a dense, brooding forest. The positioning felt almost deliberate. "That idiotic god probably planned exactly where I'd land," Daion thought bitterly, clinging to his sarcasm to stave off panic.

He struggled to stabilize himself, but the wind was relentless. Resigned, he shut his eyes and began counting down the seconds until impact. Yet just before he collided with the earth, his fall halted abruptly, leaving him suspended five meters above the ground. He hovered momentarily before being unceremoniously dropped onto his back, the impact leaving a dull ache throughout his body.

"Did you really think I'd let you escape so easily?" a mocking voice echoed in his mind. Then, silence. Only the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft murmur of water filled the quiet that followed.

"Go to hell," Daion muttered, wincing as he sat up. His surroundings felt like they had been plucked straight from a fairy tale—vivid green grass, vibrant flowers, and towering trees forming a natural barrier around the meadow. Nearby, a crystal-clear lake shimmered in the sunlight, its centerpiece a striking statue.

A few meters away, the sword the god had given him landed with a dull thud. Daion approached it but hesitated to pick it up. Instead, his eyes fell on his right hand, still encased in the strange glove he couldn't understand. The blue gem embedded in its palm glimmered faintly under the sunlight.

"Strange," he thought, curiosity overriding his caution as he tried to remove the glove. But it wouldn't budge. No matter how hard he pulled, the material seemed fussed to his skin, as if it had become a part of him. Even attempting to peel it off caused pain. Frustrated, he grabbed a stick and tried to pry it off, to no avail. Finally, he gave up with a sigh. "Great. Now I look like a biker... forever."

A rustling sound behind him snapped him out of his thoughts. Grabbing the sword, he spun around and pointed it at the source of the noise. From the tall grass emerged a bizarre creature: a rabbit with round ears and sharp, glinting fangs. It stared at him briefly before bouncing back into the forest. Confused, Daion lowered the blade and sighed.

Thirst gnawed at him, so he made his way to the lake. The water was impossibly pure, reflecting the strange, green-tinted sky above. As he drank, his gaze lingered on the statue at the lake's center: a woman with dove-like wings, her solemn figure clutching a sword pointed downward. Below the statue, an inscription caught his attention:

"Lake of the Summoned."

He guessed this must be where all the gods' chosen ones arrived. Yet something about the place felt eerily vacant, as if no living creature dared to approach. The silence was almost unnatural.

Taking another sip, he noticed his reflection in the water. His short, brown hair looked annoyingly practical, something he felt he might've been forced to maintain, though he couldn't remember why. A faint scar bisected his eyebrow, adding a rugged edge to his otherwise unkempt appearance. But what truly unsettled him were his eyes. They blazed with a bright, almost unnatural blue, like twin flames.

"Still," he muttered with a wry grin, "not bad looking, huh?"

He chuckled, but the sound faded quickly as he looked up at the sky. That's when he noticed something even strange: the swirling green clouds above formed a perpetual vortex, its center marking the spot where he'd fallen. Beyond it, two radiant orbs blazed in the heavens, their brilliance unmistakable. They were stars. This was a binary system.

For a moment, he stood there, lost in thought. His missing memories, far from distressing him, felt oddly liberating. There was no one to miss, no home too long for. Still, the alien beauty of this world unsettled him, as if it had been crafted specifically to confuse and unnerve him.

Finally, he stood, brushing water from his hands. His immediate goal was clear: find another human—or at least something intelligent. He needed answers.

Turning toward the forest, he spotted a thin column of smoke rising in the distance. It was his only lead. Without hesitation, he headed in that direction, moving cautiously into the dense woods.

As soon as he left the meadow, the air grew heavy, almost suffocating. For a brief, terrifying moment, Daion felt his lungs seize up, as if he couldn't breathe. He clawed at his throat, panicking. But then, the blue gem on his glove flared to life, and his airways opened, allowing him to breathe freely again.

"So that's what this does," he murmured, examining the glove with newfound intrigue. Somehow, it seemed to be adapting his body to this hostile environment.

The forest was immense, its towering trees stretching so high their tops seemed to vanish into the green-tinged sky. Massive roots jutted out of the ground, turning the terrain into an obstacle course. Yet Daion pressed on, carefully maintaining his course toward the smoke.

The forest teemed with life—both familiar and strange. He saw six-legged elk with sleek coats, massive foxes the size of bears with gleaming horns, and a symphony of unseen birds singing high in the canopy.

At one point, a large butterfly landed on his shoulder. Its metallic wings shimmered with an ethereal blue glow, their sharp edges giving it an almost weapon-like appearance. Daion brushed it off, uneasy.

The deeper he ventured, the more he felt watched. Yet he had no choice but to continue.

At last, he reached the source of the smoke—and stopped dead in his tracks.

The sight before him was devastating: a village reduced to ruins, its charred remains still smoldering. Blood stained the ground, vivid against the ash. What was once a church stood as a skeletal husk; its holy sanctity violated by the encroaching flames.

Yet there were no bodies. Despite the overwhelming stench of death, the corpses were missing. That, more than anything, filled him with dread.

Daion stepped cautiously through the ruins, his sword at the ready. Among the wreckage, he saw fragments of armor, broken spears, and splintered shields. Whatever had attacked this place had left no room for resistance.

Standing amidst the desolation, he clenched his fists, determination hardening his features. Whatever was going on in this world, he wasn't going to wait to become its next victim.

At the end of the crumbled street, Daion spotted what seemed to have once been the town hall. The building had been modified with crude reinforcements, likely as a desperate attempt to withstand the assault—but even that had failed.

Daion stepped inside cautiously. The interior was no less horrifying. The floor was littered with shattered weapons, pools of blood, and unrecognizable remains. Viscera clung to the walls like grotesque decorations.

He ventured deeper into the building until he reached what appeared to be the last line of defense. Unlike the rest of the town, here the bodies of the fallen remained. Men clad in makeshift armor lay lifeless, their expressions frozen in masks of agony and terror.

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

A weak groan shattered the silence.

"The h-horde…"

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

Daion dropped to his knees beside him. "What do you mean? What happened here?" he demanded, his voice trembling.

The man let out a bitter, broken laugh, each breath labored. "Isn't it obvious…?" His gaze drifted to the glove on Daion's right hand, and his eyes narrowed with a mix of disbelief and resentment. "Another summoned one? Really? The gods think sending more children will fix their mess…"

He coughed violently, blood staining his lips. "Damn the gods…"

With those final words, his eyes went lifeless, and his head rolled to the side. He was gone.

"Damn it!" Daion shouted, his voice echoing through the hollow ruins. Gritting his teeth, he closed the man's eyes and stood, fists clenched in frustration.

A sudden noise broke the silent creak of wood, faint but deliberate. It came from above. Daion instinctively glanced up just in time to see a winged figure descending rapidly. In a flash, it landed before him with a thunderous crash.

The creature was unlike anything Daion had ever seen: a monstrous vampire bat, grotesquely oversized and grotesque in form. Its bloated body twitched with unnatural energy, and its crimson eyes glowed with a bloodthirsty malice.

Acting on instinct, Daion raised his sword and pointed it at the beast. It moved slowly at first, using its leathery wings as front legs, each step raking the ground with razor-sharp claws.

"What the hell is that?" Daion muttered, fear choking his voice. His entire body trembled, and the sword in his hands felt heavier with each passing second. He tried to back away, his mind racing for a plan.

The bat lunged. Daion 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, sending waves of agony through his body.

Through tear-filled eyes, Daion reached desperately for his fallen sword, his fingers barely brushing the hilt. Just as despair began to take hold, the gem embedded in his glove flared with blinding light. The sword leapt into his grasp, as though responding to his will.

Without thinking, Daion thrust the blade into the beast's side. The monster screeched, a sound so piercing it rattled his bones, and released its grip on his arm. Seizing the opportunity, he shoved it off and drove the sword into its body again and again.

The bat's cries grew weaker until it finally lay still, lifeless.

Daion collapsed, gasping for air. His left arm throbbed, blood pouring from the deep puncture wounds. He stared at the creature's corpse, a mixture of relief and nausea churning in his gut.

"Damn this place…" he muttered, cradling his injured arm. "What the hell even was that thing?"

Before he could gather his thoughts, another sound made him freeze. He turned, and there was another bat-like monster, identical to the first. Its glowing red eyes locked onto him, its hunger palpable.

Daion gripped his sword tightly, though his strength was waning. He braced for the inevitable attack, knowing his chances of survival were slim.

Then, a deafening crack rang out. The creature's head exploded in a burst of gore, its lifeless body crumpling to the ground.

The metallic echo of a ricocheting bullet filled the air.

Daion looked toward the source of the shot, his eyes wide with disbelief. Emerging from the shadows was a figure—shorter than him but radiating an aura of danger that sent chills down his spine. The stranger's face was partially obscured by a dark scarf, revealing only sharp, piercing eyes.

"Not bad," the man said, his voice muffled but laced with sarcasm. "Most don't even survive the first monster. Looks like you've got some potential," he added with a sarcastic tone that only heightened Daion's unease.

The man glanced at Daion's injured arm. "Ah, wait," he said, as if remembering something. With fluid movements, he pulled a small white sphere from his satchel and tossed it to Daion.

Daion caught it instinctively, though his sword remained ready.

"It's medicinal," the stranger said with a shrug. "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."