The very air thrums with an ancient, raw energy here. It's a heavy, almost metallic scent, thick with the brine of the distant Cobalt Coastlands and the damp, fertile musk of primordial earth. Above you, the sky itself seems to writhe, not with clouds, but with a gaping, jagged wound of crackling purple lightning that tears across the heavens like a raw, festering scar. From this wound, a chilling, almost subsonic thrummmmm pulses, vibrating in your very teeth, a sound that promises both wonder and utter annihilation.

A sudden, sharp snap of cold wind whips around you, carrying with it the faint, haunting cry of an unseen bird of prey. The ground beneath you is a coarse tapestry of damp, dewy grass and sharp, half-buried stones, digging into your palms as you push yourself up. Your muscles ache, every fiber screaming protest as if you've just fallen from an impossible height, a phantom sense of terminal velocity still echoing in the hollows of your bones.

You have no memory, no past, only this overwhelming, visceral present. As your fingers instinctively brush against your pocket, a smooth, cool object responds. A strange, glowing device, its faint light casting an ethereal sheen on your skin, pulses with a low, rhythmic hum, as if breathing with a life of its own.

This is Hisui. And you, User, are utterly, terrifyingly alone.