For centuries, the world had forgotten the name Verrian Callos. His legend, once whispered with reverence, had been swallowed by time, erased by those who wished never to speak of him again. He had been a warrior, a scholar, a master of arts lost to the living. And in the end, a traitor.
Or so the world believed.
Verrian had trained many students in his time, but his greatest apprentice had been the one who doomed him. A prodigy named Alric, sharp of mind and hungry for power.
Verrian had taken him in as a boy, molded him into something great. He had been proud—too proud—to see the darkness festering beneath that ambition. By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late.
Alric did not just surpass him. He destroyed him.
With the knowledge Verrian had given him, Alric carved his name into history, toppling kings and raising empires of his own design. And Verrian, his body broken, his name smeared in falsehoods, was left to rot in an unmarked grave.
Yet death did not release him.
Whether by some cruel twist of fate or an unfulfilled debt to the world, his spirit lingered, unable to pass beyond. He watched the centuries turn, the world change, the truths of his life twisted into lies. He had tried, once, to make his voice heard, but the living do not listen to the dead.
And then, Kael appeared.
A boy with nothing. A fighter with no direction. A soul not unlike the one Verrian had taken in so long ago—except this time, there was still a chance to shape him into something more. Kael was not the chosen one, not some grand hero destined for greatness. He was just a survivor, struggling to carve out a place in a world that cared nothing for him.
That was why Verrian chose him.
Not for vengeance. Not for redemption.
But because he refused to make the same mistake again.
This time, he would not let his student fall into darkness. This time, he would teach not just strength, but wisdom. This time, the past would not repeat itself.
And if the world would never remember the name Verrian Callos, then perhaps it would remember the one he left behind.
Kael.
___
Kael, oblivious to the old ghost's past, gritted his teeth and continued searching for something—anything—to kill. He needed more white mist.
The mist acted as a carrier for his soul, keeping him tethered to existence. The moment it fully dissipated, he knew instinctively that he would die. For real this time.
Fortunately, he didn't have to search long. A mutated deer stumbled into view, its twisted form moving unnaturally through the ruined landscape. Kael wasted no time. He struck, and to his surprise, the kill came easier than expected.
Had going to Windfall really strengthened him that much? Before, he could barely control smaller creatures, but now he could dominate and kill a deer. A small one, sure, but it was still an exceptional feat. More than that, it was proof—proof that he could interact with the living despite being nothing more than a soul. Something that should have been impossible.
As the realization settled in, his thoughts drifted to the old ghost. That man gave him chills. Kael had no idea what the ghost truly wanted, but he knew one thing for certain. He was planning something.
Something Kael couldn't figure out.
"Damnation… that damned old ghost," he muttered under his breath.
Kael's thoughts snagged on something—something he should have questioned earlier.
Why had the old ghost run from the soul wraith in the beginning when he could destroy it with just a wave of his hand? And more importantly, why was he still keeping it around?
Wasn't that suspicious?
And how had the wraith tracked them to Windfall? It was almost as if something was marking their location, like a tracker latched onto him. Sure, the old ghost claimed it was karma, but Kael wasn't convinced. He wasn't the strongest, nor did he believe his karma was significant enough to warrant this level of pursuit.
If anything, the old ghost should have been the one burdened with a heavy karmic weight. The stronger someone was, the more karma they accumulated. And if the old ghost was this powerful as a soul, then he must have been terrifyingly strong when he was alive.
Power came with a price. No one rose to the top without cutting others down, without crushing those who stood in their way.
No one became powerful by being good.
Except, perhaps, by lying to themselves.
Kael's frown deepened. The more he thought about it, the more the pieces refused to fit.
The soul wraith had tracked him too easily. Even after entering Windfall, a place dense with spiritual interference, it had followed without hesitation. That wasn't normal. That wasn't coincidence.
His gaze darkened.
It was the old ghost.
It had to be.
Maybe it wasn't direct, but there was no doubt in his mind that the old ghost was the reason the wraith kept coming after him. Whether it was intentional or not didn't matter. What mattered was that he needed to get away—fast.
Gritting his teeth, Kael activated the movement skill he had learned in Windfall. His soul flickered, weightless, as he surged forward, weaving through the shifting, ghostly streets. He had one destination in mind—the academy.
He didn't slow down as he passed through walls, slipping unseen through the layers of the city. His goal was clear. He needed a vessel. He needed a body.
He needed that boy.
The moment he reached the academy grounds, his senses stretched, searching. The boy had to be here. He had to find him before—
A chill crawled down his spine.
Kael froze.
It was here.
The soul wraith.
It was after him. Again.
His expression twisted into something between frustration and grim amusement. Of course. Of course it was.
"That damned old man," Kael muttered, his voice laced with both irritation and certainty.
He knew it now.
This wasn't karma.
This was deliberate.
And he was going to find out why.