He opened his eyes. Everything was blurry and painfully bright. Once his eyes had adjusted to the blinding sunlight, he stood up and scanned his surroundings.

What in the world?

The landscape was a vast field of death. The sickening stench of blood and exposed organs announced the presence of the unburied dead. Corpses, arrows, shields, and weapons littered the ground as far as the eye could see. Ravens circled above and fallen war flags fluttered below.

Where am I?

Taking care not to step on any of the corpses, he walked across the war-torn hell-scape. His deathly pale skin contrasted with the bloodied and scorched grassland, and, unlike the butchered bodies scattered around him, he was completely naked.

“I found a live one over here!"

Turning toward the voice, he saw, at a distance, two knights in golden armor. One of them was pointing at him.

"Is he one of ours?"

"I can't tell. He's butt naked."

"He must've been robbed."

The pale man looked at them with wary eyes. "Wh- what happened here?"

Laughing, the larger knight said, "What do you think? Who are you, anyway?"

The pale man’s eyes widened when he realized that he couldn’t answer the knight’s question. "I- I don't know."

He didn’t lack memories. On the contrary, his mind was filled with them - memories of different lives, including that of a knight, an assassin, a baker, a blacksmith, and even a monarch. The only commonality among these lives was that they had all ended on the battlefield.

The other knight wiped sweat off his forehead. "I suppose he got hit on the head a little too hard."

The larger knight began to walk toward the pale man. "What should we do with him?"

"We can't be sure he's one of us. Doesn't feel right to kill crazies, but we can't take any chances. Just get it done quickly. The quicker we finish our job, the sooner we can get out of this blistering heat."

"I'm sorry; it's not your lucky day. What comes next isn't going to be pleasant for you." The larger knight unsheathed his sword and continued approaching the pale man.

"Wait, what are you doing? Don't come any closer!" When the pale man took a step backwards, his heel banged against something solid.

He lost his footing and fell. His head snapped backwards, striking the ground. At the moment of impact, he saw a bright flash of light. Once it cleared, he felt dizzy and there was a throbbing pain at the back of his head. Looking at his feet, he realized that he had tripped over a corpse.

The larger knight raised his sword.

As the pale man lay on the ground, his whole body began shaking. Tears flowed down his face as he shut his eyes. How could he die like this, alone and nameless?

He heard distant galloping. Soon, he felt the thud of hooves coming towards him.

Blood-curdling screams pierced the air. Something sprayed the pale man's hands and face. He could smell and taste fresh blood.

Opening his eyes, he found himself covered in blood. In front of him was a silver-haired woman atop a black horse, around her the dismembered remains of the golden knights.

The woman removed her cloak and threw it at the pale man. "Use this to cover yourself."

He caught the cloak but hesitated to use it. "Are you going to kill me?"

She rode closer to him. "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to welcome you. Do you have a name?"

He remained silent, because he didn’t have an answer to her question.

"Take your time. You've only just awoken."

As he struggled to recall who he was, he began to hear countless voices in his head. Each voice shouted a different name. Amid the terrifying, confusing mingling of different voices, one stood out. It was, by far, the clearest and the loudest.

That must be who I am.

"Prometheus. My name is Prometheus."