Alright — we're going full
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CHAPTER 1 — THE BLACK DAWN
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The rain came down in sheets, blurring the lights of the city into smeared streaks of neon. Kael Cromwell didn't bother running. He walked the empty street with the same slow, deliberate pace he always did, each step splashing through shallow puddles that reflected broken billboards and streetlamps flickering like dying stars.
There was a time he would have rushed. A time when survival meant something. That time had ended three hours ago.
The man who had hunted him for years was dead.
Kael didn't even remember killing him. Just a blur of motion, steel, and the taste of blood on the air. Then silence. And the strange, sharp clarity that came only after the last thread of obligation was cut.
He should have felt relief. Instead, there was nothing.
The System voice — his system, the one he had stolen and forcefully integrated from another — was quiet. That was unusual. It never shut up.
When the headlights came screaming down the road, Kael turned his head just enough to see them. An eighteen-wheeler, brakes squealing in the wet, fishtailing toward him.
He didn't move.
The driver's eyes went wide in the split second before the impact. Kael saw his own reflection in those eyes — a lean man in a black coat, blade at his side, expression unreadable.
And then the world went black.
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It wasn't pain that came next.
It was warmth.
When Kael opened his eyes, the rain was gone. The street was gone. The city, the blood, the stench — gone. He stood in a place of endless sky and shifting clouds, the horizon rolling like an ocean in slow motion.
A man waited there. Or at least, something wearing the shape of a man.
Golden hair. Eyes like galaxies turning behind glass. Robes of white threaded with constellations.
Kael recognized him instantly. Not from memory — but from the weight of his presence. This was not the first time Kael had stood before a being like this. But it was the first time the being had looked at him with interest.
"Kael Cromwell," the figure said, his voice deep enough to rattle the bones. "You've lived a sharp life. Sharp… and short."
Kael tilted his head. "If this is the part where you tell me I was destined for more, save it. I've heard the pitch."
That earned a faint smile. "No. Destiny is for those who require a leash. You… do not."
The God stepped closer, the shifting sky bending around his form. "I am called Orvan. In your terms — God of Sovereignty. I rule over no kingdom, yet no kingdom escapes my notice. And I have chosen you for my game."
Kael's brow arched. "Game?"
"A world not your own. One ripe with power, but fractured by greed and fear. You will be my piece upon the board."
Kael didn't answer. He didn't need to. Orvan could already see that curiosity was his hook.
"You will receive a gift," Orvan said. "A System — not the crude, mindless sort your Earth has stolen glimpses of. This one will be alive. It will learn you, grow with you, and serve you without deception. Its purpose will be your purpose."
The air shimmered.
A presence unfolded inside Kael's mind — vast and cold, yet attentive. Greetings, Kael Cromwell. I am your System. You may name me, or leave me unnamed.
"Later," Kael said aloud.
Orvan's smile deepened. "You will awaken with the knowledge of every combat art known to mortals. Every weapon, every stance, every killing blow. But you will excel beyond all in one — the sword."
"And the catch?" Kael asked.
"The catch," Orvan said, "is that I do not care whether you succeed. I am curious to see what you become. You may rise, or you may burn. Either way… I will be entertained."
The God's hand extended, palm up. Darkness pooled there, swirling into the shape of a crown. "One more gift. The Law of Space shall be yours to command, should you master it. And from the moment you first kill in this new life… the power of death will answer you."
Kael's gaze lingered on the crown. "Necromancy."
"More than that," Orvan said. "Dominion over what remains when life ends. But be warned — the wise do not parade such power. Keep it hidden, or the world will unite to end you."
Kael reached out and took the crown. It dissolved into shadow and sank into his skin.
---
When he woke, the world was bright.
He was lying in a meadow, the scent of wildflowers and damp earth heavy in the air. The sky above was a blue so deep it almost hurt to look at. Rolling hills stretched to the horizon, dotted with trees and the distant shape of a walled city.
He sat up, testing his body. Younger. Stronger. The System was a silent weight in the back of his mind, patient.
You have been reincarnated in the Unified Kingdom of Asterion. Year 1275 of the Crown Pact.
"Never heard of it."
You will.
Kael stood, scanning the landscape. Roads crisscrossed the plains — and on the largest, a caravan was rolling toward the city.
Something tugged at the edge of his awareness. Not sound. Not sight. A presence.
A major event will occur in the city within five days. It is called the Festival of Crowns.
Kael started walking. "Tell me about it."
A celebration held every two years to honor the founding of Asterion. In truth, it is a proving ground — trials of wit and strength for the heirs of noble houses, mercenaries seeking contracts, and adventurers seeking favor. The winner receives patronage from one of the Five Crowns.
"And why," Kael asked, "do I care?"
Because it is the perfect stage to begin your ascent.
Kael smiled faintly. "Or my cover gets blown on day one."
That is why you will not use necromancy. Not yet.
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The road carried him closer to the city. It was massive — walls of white stone, banners snapping in the wind. Beyond the gates, he could hear the faint roar of a crowd, smell roasting meat and incense.
For the first time since waking, Kael felt something like anticipation.
The game had begun.