This body…

  Is it… immortal?

  A muscular man lay on a slowly sinking dune, his left chest pierced with a fist-sized hole. Despite his mangled body, his expression was eerily calm—not from battle-hardened composure, but because overwhelming agony had numbed him to the pain.

  For the original owner of this body, such wounds might have been trivial.

  Tonight marked his second night in this desert—and his second night in this unfamiliar world.

  When he first awoke here, someone had stabbed through his heart and left him stranded in the scorching sands. Paralyzed and unable to move, he could only stare at the sky. For two days and nights, he lingered between life and death, unable to perish.

  He still didn’t know this body’s name or face. What if it’s hideous? he thought. Was the original owner a criminal exiled for unspeakable sins?

  Am I a zombie? he wondered. This world might have a zombie apocalypse. But since I’m conscious, maybe I’m a half-human, half-corpse protagonist.

  He rolled his eyes upward, gazing at the shimmering stars.

  Then he noticed—the sky resembled an inverted lake. A massive blue moon drifted across it, rippling the heavens like water. Faint, fish-like shadows swam beneath the celestial surface.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Why is tonight’s moon so large, so blue, so different from yesterday’s?

  As he pondered, frost crystallized on his lashes. Unlike the furnace-like daytime, the desert night rivaled Antarctica’s cold. Not that it mattered—this body couldn’t die, even if sliced to pieces.

  Probably…?

  The icy air numbed his chest wound. Exhausted, he succumbed to the cold, drifting into sleep as he had the previous night. But this time, his consciousness lingered.

  Why am I still aware? Last night wasn’t like this.

  In the darkness, a glowing speck—shaped like a sunflower seed—appeared in the distance. It expanded rapidly until blinding light engulfed his vision.

  Is someone shining a flashlight? Wait, this world shouldn’t have flashlights…

  A sharp pain in his chest jolted him alert. Before him loomed a towering figure, radiating oppressive might.

  The entity knelt on one knee, its lower body clad in white armor with spiked greaves. A thick spinal column supported its broad chest, while a blue spectral form hovered above, wielding a gray-white halberd. Massive wings of azure light unfurled behind it.

  “Outsider…” Its voice boomed like a war chant, crushing his skull with pressure.

  Aldmer Han Diyamachi—the name flashed in his mind, devoid of context.

  “May I ask… who are you…?” he stammered, ears ringing with chaotic whispers.

  “I am Kronos, God of Strife. My vessel has been usurped… yet you are no ordinary thief.” The god leveled a spear-tip at him. “By slaying the prophesied savior, you have doomed this world. Your sins demand atonement.”

  What nonsense is this? he thought, then panicked. Can gods read minds?

  “Pass my trial, and your crimes may be forgiven.”

  Before he could protest, a wall of black and purple mist surged across the horizon. The god’s eyes glowed coldly.

  “Outsider, I bestow upon you my blessing.” Kronos swung his halberd, tearing a rift in the air. “Grow stronger. Protect Saphama… or perish.”

  A vortex yanked the man’s consciousness into darkness. As the void swallowed him, the god’s final words echoed:

  “Kronos, God of Strife… accepts this battle.”