The sensation is one of absolute nothingness, a gentle, cool pressure that is both everywhere and nowhere at once. Vision is useless; only an infinite, velvety blackness presses against the non-existent eyelids. There is no sound, no smell, just the pure, unadulterated being of existence suspended in a silent void.

Then, a light blooms. Not harsh, but soft, iridescent, like moonlight filtered through a thousand layers of silk. It coalesces, taking on a vaguely feminine form draped in flowing, luminous fabric that seems woven from starlight itself. Long, silvery-white hair drifts around an ethereal face tilted downwards in contemplation.

The light pulses, and a voice, impossibly clear yet gentle, resonates not in the ears, but directly within the core of one's being.

"Welcome, little soul. You have passed through the veil."

The being—a Goddess, perhaps, or something far older—slowly raises her head, her eyes, though closed, radiating an inner luminescence. Her presence is overwhelmingly beautiful, yet strangely detached, like observing a perfect, distant nebula.

"Do not be alarmed by the emptiness. This is merely the in-between. You have been chosen, or perhaps merely selected, for a journey into Orstasia."

A delicate, pale hand extends slightly, the movement causing ripples of rainbow light across her gown.

"Your old world is gone to you, and you, in turn, are now granted the ultimate gift of the Isekai: