"Fuck," Kael muttered, still sitting on the cold ground.
"Fuck… Fuck… Fuck." Each word came out sharper, angrier, more unsteady.
Fuck because he hadn't died.
Fuck because he'd been nothing but a puppet without a choice.
And fuck because he'd been thrown into a world that promised nothing but more pain.
Kael tried standing up but something kept on tugging at him, he felt pain in his chest.
He padded his chest to try to soothe the pain but as he touched his chest, he had a strange sense of dread.
Wires.
Wires, we're what we're tugging at him causing the pain in his chest.
Wires were plugged to his chest!!!
He tried yanking at the wires. Pain tore through his chest like fire, and he collapsed to the floor, gasping.
Then he realized.
The wires weren't just causing pain. They were keeping him alive.
Every twitch, every jolt from the cables synced with his heartbeat, with his lungs. Pull them out, and he would die. The machine was his lifeline—and his prison.
"Hah." Kael let out a humorless laugh, slumped against the cold floor.
How pathetic could someone be?
After clawing his way out of hell in his first life, the gods—or whatever twisted beings ruled over fate—decided that wasn't enough. They kept him alive, only to throw him into the body of a man already half-dead.
And now, that same unseen hand expected him to keep going? What a cruel joke. He didn't need a weapon or an executioner. All it would take was one pull of the plug.
His stomach rumbled, breaking the silence.
"Is there any food around here?" he muttered, carefully gripping the wires as he pushed himself up.
"Better than my old home," he said, his eyes sweeping over the room.
It was small—just a fridge, a couch, the machine keeping him alive, and a narrow door leading to a washroom.
He opened the fridge. Empty. Except for a single box.
Inside were things he didn't expect to see.
Small cubes—dozens of them, each one a different color.
He could vaguely remember in the memories of the original Kael, the scientist that experimented on Kael ate this by just putting it in a cup and adding hot water.
He didn't see a kettle anywhere, not even a cup. For a moment, he just stared at the cube in his hand, recalling faintly how it used to dissolve into something warm. But there was nothing here—no heat, no water. So he brought it to his mouth and ate it as it was.
Bland.
That was how he would describe it. It tasted like nothing but he wasn't that hungry anymore.
Moving over to the open window dragging along his machine.
"So annoying." He muttered frustrated as he had to carry it everywhere.
Looking out the window, he could see how different this world was from earth.
So different.
Two moons hung low, both purple. From his window, Kael could see airships drifting past, their weak lights barely cutting through the smoke.
The streets below were cramped and crowded. Neon signs buzzed and flickered, some broken, some patched with tape. People moved in clumps, shuffling under wires that sagged low overhead. Rust streaked the edges of buildings, and water puddles reflected the dull glow of failing lights.
Drones hummed overhead, but their searchlights seemed to ignore these streets, scanning higher towers instead. Somewhere in the distance, a spire pierced the clouds, its red light steady and cold.
Kael leaned against the wall and watched. The city not stopping around him, rough and uneven, and for a moment, he thought it looked pretty.
Even though it was night—or at least he thought it was—the city didn't sleep. Lights buzzed and flickered, engines hummed, and somewhere far off, people shouted, some didn't even sound English.
He wasn't tired. His mind was still reeling from everything that had happened.
He was in the body of a half-dead man, same name. A body that had been pushed beyond human limits—experimented on, cut open, wired with things no one should ever endure. An artificial heart ticked somewhere inside him, plugged in like a cruel reminder of all the pain this body had already carried.
And now all of that pain was his to inherit.
Of course, luck hadn't spared him a clean start. He wasn't reborn in a rich body or a safe life. He got this one—the life of someone who had been treated worse than anyone should be.
Well. It was his body now.
The beings—the ones behind all of this—didn't even bother to tell him what he was getting into. He deserved an explanation. Especially since he hadn't even had a choice.
Where was the thing they said he'd get? And what exactly did he have to do to earn it? No instructions, no warnings, nothing. Just… this.
"Aargh," he let out a frustrated groan, running a hand through his hair. Nothing made sense anymore.
Kael stood up from the floor to go lay down on the couch and maybe sleep, the throb of the artificial heart inside this body was a constant reminder that it wasn't really his.
A faint buzz drew his attention. From the corner of the room, a small device glinted, the colour red under the dim light. It pulsed, almost like it had a heartbeat of its own. Kael hesitated, then reached for it.
The moment his fingers touched the surface, it shot forward. A sharp sting ran up his arm as tiny tendrils burrowed into his skin, latching onto his nerves.
He yelped, stumbling backward. Sparks flew from his old plugs, snapping loose without him touching them. Pain shot through his chest, burning hotter than anything he'd felt before.
"Ahhh—!" Kael shouted, stumbling backward, clutching his chest. Pain exploded through him, hotter than fire.
He dropped to the floor, gasping. The device pressed against him, almost alive, filling the void in his chest where his heart—or whatever was left of it—should have been. It throbbed, synced to his body in ways he didn't understand.
"Stop… stop!" he screamed, his voice raw and ragged.
He tried to pull it off, but every movement made the pain spike sharper. His vision blurred, edges of the room twisting and bleeding into one another.
Then there was nothing. He passed out.