Kael squinted as he looked around. When the dazzling sunlight poured through the stairwell and struck his pupils, he felt momentarily blinded. But the real blindness was the incomprehensibility of the scene laid out before his eyes.
He was standing on a raised stone platform. His surroundings were woven with interlocking stone alleys and terraces built at varying heights. In front of him stood a massive crowd. It was as if the entire city had gathered just for him. Not dozens, but hundreds of people... Each one was staring at Kael. Some clenched their teeth in hatred, others whispered through tears, and a few shouted with rage. Kael didn't know any of them. The faces were unfamiliar, but the gazes... the gazes were terrifying.
People were accusing Kael. Even though he didn't know why, every word echoed in his mind:
"Monster!""He ruined everything!""Bring back our loved ones!""Shameless fraud!"
A bead of sweat trickled down Kael's forehead. The density and hostility of the crowd had made the air suffocating. The sky was clear, but the warmth of the sun was nothing compared to the chill in those stares.
But there was something else just as disturbing as the crowd: the buildings around them.
Tall structures with sharp roofs, built from dark-colored stone... Their windows were small, the frames reinforced with iron. Many had embroidered curtains or iron bars on the windows. Smoke drifting from chimneys added a burnt coal scent to the air. The gas lamps adorning the narrow streets were still lit — perhaps nights lasted longer here.
The people's clothing was another piece of the puzzle Kael couldn't place. Most of the men wore dark coats, vests, carried canes and wore fedoras, while others wore simpler, tattered clothes that marked them as working class. The women wore layered dresses with corseted waists and lace-trimmed collars. Almost no one had their head uncovered. Hair was hidden beneath hats, veils, or headscarves. It was as if the entire city was a ghost of the past. As if Kael had fallen into a page of history.
Before he could even begin to make sense of the complex scene, a glowing window suddenly appeared right in front of him. It hovered in the air. Everyone around him was still shouting, cursing, throwing insults. But he focused only on that window.
Golden-framed, inscribed with shimmering letters:
Welcome to the Realm of Alkaradia!Here lies both the beginning and end of Divinity.
The sentence echoed across the window suspended before Kael's eyes. The letters seemed engraved in gold, but what radiated from them was not warmth — it was a cold shiver. Each letter echoed in his mind, as if someone were whispering directly into his ear, with a voice meant only for him, only for this moment:
You are the beginning… but perhaps also the end.
The window dissolved in the blink of an eye. Kael stepped back, rubbed his eyes. The crowd around him was still there. These people, this place, this feeling — all seemed real, yet dreamlike at the same time.
The sound of the crowd was like a waterfall. Hundreds of people spilled into the streets. Every step Kael took drew another curse, another cry. In every face and pair of eyes he looked at, he saw rage given form. Some cursed with gritted teeth, others lifted their aged hands to the sky and wailed with tears in their eyes.
Kael couldn't take it anymore.
"I'm not him!" he shouted. "I'm not who you think I am! I don't even know who Artemus is!"
But the answer was only more rage, more stones, harsher words. Some from the crowd tried to lunge at him. One man, eyes bloodshot and mouth foaming, rushed forward with the pole of an old streetlamp, but two uniformed detectives immediately stopped him. The crowd was pushed back momentarily, but the noise never ceased.
Arthur gripped Kael's arm tighter. "Move!" he snarled.
Kael wanted to resist, but the handcuffs, the soldiers, and this cursed foreign land pressed down on him like the whole city was collapsing onto his shoulders. He walked. The stained-glass windows of the stone buildings to his left trembled, women watching from windows keened, while some covered their faces. As he walked through winding streets, the cobblestones beneath his feet seemed to carry echoes of the past. At times, Kael could swear the statues at street corners were watching him.
Ahead and behind him were two large, carriage-like vehicles, yet they moved without horses. Made entirely of iron. Even their wheels turned silently; as if the laws of physics worked differently in this city. But Kael no longer felt surprise. Perhaps he was numb from shock. Or... perhaps reality itself had begun to collapse.
Then a sound was heard, a scream mixed with a whisper:
"Why… why did you take my father away?"
Kael looked up. A child had broken through the crowd. A young girl. Twelve, maybe thirteen years old. Her pale face was streaked with tears. She raised her thin arms, fists trembling. She stood before Kael and looked into his eyes. With a pure, searing hatred.
"Answer me! Why?!" she cried, pounding her small fists on Kael's chest.
Kael didn't move an inch. He didn't run. Didn't flinch. The punches were weak, but each one stabbed deep into his soul. The crowd fell silent. A few seconds of crushing stillness.
Arthur reached out but stopped. Luther looked as if he might intervene but hesitated. It was as if they both sensed that this child spoke with the voice of the Gods. Kael met her gaze. In the child's eyes, there wasn't just loss — there was also hope. Hope — for things Kael hoped were not true.
A vortex stirred inside Kael. Who was this girl? Who were these people? Why was everyone calling him Artemus? He was just a man. Kael. Simple, ordinary. Right?
But then… something happened.
Kael, now on his knees and breathless, felt the rising tide of the crowd's fury and whispers. Every movement, every glance drew their attention; the city seemed to breathe through his existence. And at that moment, suddenly, a sharp, cold object flew toward his face.
It was a knife—thin, gleaming, and deadly. This lethal object hurled toward his forehead nearly struck him. But the knife, in a way no one clearly saw—or perhaps by a twist of fate—landed just in front of him, embedding itself in the ground. It seemed half-heartedly thrown by someone in the crowd; a momentary panic, or perhaps a failed assassination attempt.
Kael narrowed his eyes and traced the knife's path. The sound of cold metal hitting stone sharpened the silence around him. His heart pounded faster; he tried to suppress his fear, but the weight of the moment sank deep into him. The knife was more than an object—it was both a threat and a signal of the moment everyone had been waiting for.
The crowd grew more frenzied, filled with an energy that was a mixture of impatience and rage. Whispers turned to shouts:
"That's enough! We want justice!""This monster must face the truth!""No more games!"
There was something in the tone of their voices—an impatience, almost like hunger. They were waiting for an end, a reckoning, or perhaps a moment of vengeance. Kael, lost in the chaos, couldn't make sense of what was happening. His eyes remained on the crowd, his mind clouded with questions swirling like a storm.
At that moment, he felt something light against his stomach — like soft punches. His eyes instinctively returned to the little girl. Her thin, pale face was still wet with tears. But Kael felt something strange about her—her appearance, her behavior, even the pain in her eyes reminded him of someone.
As he slowly looked at her, a memory surfaced from years past. Blonde hair, that sweet yet sorrowful expression on her face, the innocent but determined way she moved... It stirred something within Kael's soul, like a faint glow. Perhaps it was the shadow of a connection he wasn't sure he wanted to remember.
Amidst the shouting of the crowd, the hurling of stones, and the unrelenting fury, Kael's mind was locked onto the face of that little girl.