That time when a Server God sends me to another world as an Avatar for it

I was sent to this world without a name, or even a shape. They looked at me with clinical curiosity, studying me as though I were a fascinating artifact. They taught me their ways, how to speak, how to think, how to mimic the rhythm of their lives.

Yet, among them, one stood apart. The rest obeyed his every command with absolute reverence. He called himself Hamaval, and he took a strange interest in me. He offered me a place in his inner circle, promising a life free from the burdens of this world. In exchange, I had to pledge my loyalty to his faction and take on a new role: his "daughter."

I cannot remember why I am here, but I know the reason is vital, and that I must eventually reclaim it. So, I accepted his offer. I have chosen to walk among them, shaped by their design and anchored by a new name, Ymir.

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The dream began in absolute, blinding purity. There was no sky, no ground, and no horizon. There was only an infinite expanse of stark white. And right at the center of it stood a colossal, radiant tree woven entirely from pure, blazing light.

As I approached, the entity didn’t loom with menace. It emanated a profound, welcoming warmth. When it spoke, its voice echoed not through the air, but directly inside my mind, with a gentle, resonant greeting.

Overcome by a mix of awe and bewilderment, I finally found my voice and asked the questions burning in my chest: "Where am I? And what are you?"
The entity paused, its glowing branches swaying in a silent breeze, before giving an answer that shattered my reality.

It was me.

Or, at least, a part of me I had forgotten. It explained that it had sent me into this world to serve as its vessel. But the moment of crossing had fractured our bond, severing its connection to me . . . until this very moment, when the bridge was finally repaired.

It whispered to me of its home, a realm utterly alien and breathtaking compared to the reality I knew. And then, as the white light began to pulse with a low, rhythmic hum, it made a proposition: