Kael had never imagined dying so… abruptly. One moment, he was walking down a bustling street in his old world, the smell of rain-soaked cobblestones and roasted chestnuts in the air. Merchants shouted, children darted between legs, and life hummed with ordinary chaos. And then, everything shattered.
A scaffold, old and rotting, groaned above the marketplace. Kael saw it tilt just as he passed beneath it. "Watch out!" he shouted, but the warning came too late. A massive beam snapped, crashing down with a deafening roar. Screams filled the air as bodies were crushed beneath splintered wood. Kael tried to dive, tried to shield others, but a jagged shard of timber struck him in the chest. He fell hard, gasping, pain searing through him like fire. Around him, people scrambled, some frozen in shock, others running as if life and death were a performance to watch. No one helped. No one cared.
'So this is how it ends…' Kael thought, as his vision blurred. 'So small. So meaningless.' The world had not given him justice. The scaffold was supposed to be maintained. The workers negligent. The authorities indifferent. Everything that could have protected him had failed. He could feel his life slipping away, slipping like water through grasping fingers, and the last thought in his mind was… relief. 'At least I won't have to watch it all continue.'
And then, darkness.
---
When Kael opened his eyes again, he expected light. He expected peace. Maybe a world untouched by the petty cruelty he had suffered. But what greeted him was darker than any nightmare he had known.
The air smelled of smoke, rot, and something metallic — the scent of blood mingled with decaying flesh. Around him sprawled a city that seemed alive with cruelty and malice. Streets choked with filth twisted between crumbling stone towers, while puddles of black water reflected shattered windows. Children with hollow eyes and scraped knees begged for scraps of food, their cries blending with the groans of men and women broken by labor, sickness, and abuse.
From the shadows, glowing eyes watched him — too many to count. Flesh Crawlers, enormous rat-like monsters, slithered through refuse, their venomous fangs glinting in the dim light. Kael froze, heart hammering, as one leapt toward a boy scavenging near the gutter. With a quick shove, Kael saved the child, and the monster hissed, retreating back into the darkness.
'This… this can't be real,' he thought, staggering to his feet. 'Surely this is better than before…'
It was not.
Above it all, gilded towers rose like monuments to cruelty, polished ivory and gold shining with a blinding arrogance. Windows framed the lives of the untouchable wealthy, who looked down as though the suffering below were nothing more than scenery. Some nobles flicked their hands, conjuring small fire spells that danced like cruel flames on the shoulders of slaves forced to kneel in the streets. The rich were gods here, and the poor were less than beasts.
Kael clenched his fists. His heart, for a brief moment, leapt with hope — the hope that he had escaped the cruelty of his previous life. But that hope died immediately. This world was worse. Deeper. More calculated. Every injustice had a system, every punishment a method. Every street, every shadow, every flicker of light seemed alive with malice. He had never felt true despair before; now, it coursed through him like venom.
---
Kael wandered through the streets, taking in every detail. The roads were uneven and littered with broken tools, bones, and refuse. Shanties leaned precariously against one another, wood rotting and roofs leaking. Smoke from cooking fires mingled with the stench of sewage and charred flesh, creating a haze that clung to the eyes and throat. The market was a chaotic nightmare — merchants selling spoiled meat alongside polished jewels, guards turning blind eyes to theft while enforcing brutal fines on the smallest offenses.
From a distance, Kael noticed a noblewoman levitating a small, glowing sphere above her hand. It exploded into fire, striking a thief who had dared to steal an apple. The thief screamed, skin blistering as he fell. Kael's stomach churned. 'And the people…' he thought, watching a boy fight off a Flesh Crawler for a morsel of bread. 'They suffer every day. And for what? For the amusement of gods in gold towers?'
A voice snapped him from his thoughts.
"Move, peasant!" barked a guard, shoving a frail man aside. Kael caught the man before he fell. The guard's eyes lingered on him, assessing, judging. Kael realized in that instant: 'I cannot afford to be naïve. Not here. Not ever.'
---
He ducked into a narrow alley, away from prying eyes. Leaning against the wall, Kael closed his eyes and let the memories of his old life surface — his parents, the scaffold that killed him, the helplessness that had consumed him. And he made a vow: 'I will not be powerless again. Not in this world, not ever.'
But he also knew that survival here demanded more than anger. Knowledge, cunning, strength, and perhaps even magic — these were weapons as vital as any blade. And Kael was not yet armed.
The first night in this new world was a study in terror. Flesh Crawlers skittered across the rooftops, hissing. Ghostly figures flickered at the edges of his vision, spirits of the unjustly killed, wailing for vengeance or feeding on fear. Somewhere, a Nightstalker slunk in the shadows, silent and watchful, its eyes gleaming like black coals. Kael's stomach turned, and his fists ached to strike.
Then came the flicker of hope — or perhaps fate's cruel joke. A group of ragged children eyed him curiously, daring him to approach. One held out a piece of stale bread, another a twisted smile. Kael knelt among them, a small flicker of warmth piercing the gloom. These were people like him — broken, surviving, yet unwilling to surrender entirely.
A shadow passed overhead, long and deliberate. Kael looked up and saw a figure on a balcony, a young woman with sharp eyes and an air that suggested she did not belong entirely to the cruel city. She was observing him, assessing him, and then vanished behind a curtain. A spark of curiosity — and maybe danger — ignited in Kael.
'This world will demand everything of me: cunning, strength, and a willingness to face horrors I have never imagined.' And yet, buried deep beneath the fear, a thrill coursed through him. 'This is a challenge. And I am not one to back down from challenges.'
---
The night deepened. The city groaned with misery, yet Kael Ashryn felt the first stirrings of a plan, dark and patient, beginning to take shape in his mind. He had been reborn into shadows. And from shadows, he would rise.
"One day… I will make those gods kneel," he whispered to himself, the words tasting of both fire and iron.