The forest was eerily quiet. Kael's footsteps crunched against the underbrush as he moved forward, his gaze sharp and searching. The memory of the faint light, pulsing in the distance, guided him. It was no hallucination—he could feel the pull, something deep and primal urging him toward it.
And then, he saw it.
The light emanated from a construct that didn't belong in this world. It floated mere inches above the forest floor, a monolith of ancient, alien design. Its surface shimmered like liquid metal, constantly shifting and reforming. Strange runes crawled across its face, emitting a faint, pulsing glow that seemed to breathe in harmony with the forest itself.
Kael stopped, his spear trembling in his grasp.
"What in all the hells…" he murmured, taking a cautious step closer.
The altar, if that's what it could be called, exuded an aura of immense power—so vast and incomprehensible that it made Kael feel like an insect standing before a god.
Roran's memories offered no help in identifying the construct. Even the faint echoes of this world's knowledge couldn't explain something so impossibly ancient, so out of place.
Kael circled the altar, his sharp eyes noting every detail. Its material was unlike anything he'd ever seen—neither stone nor metal, but something in between. And the way it hovered, utterly unaffected by gravity or time, defied every natural law.
"What are you?" Kael muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
The runes responded. They flared to life, their glow intensifying until the clearing was bathed in golden light. Kael staggered back, shielding his eyes.
A voice—not spoken aloud but resonating within his very mind—echoed around him.
"You should not be here. Yet... here you are."
Kael froze. The voice was neither male nor female, neither warm nor cold. It was a force, an entity that existed beyond mortal comprehension.
"What do you mean?" Kael demanded, his voice steady despite the tremor in his chest.
The runes shimmered again, and the voice answered.
"This construct is not of your world. It wanders the void, seeking the balance that is lost. By impossible chance, it has been drawn here—an anomaly within an anomaly."
Kael's jaw tightened. He didn't fully understand the words, but he understood one thing clearly: this wasn't a gift. It was something beyond him, something that shouldn't exist.
And yet, it was here.
As Kael stepped closer, the air grew heavier, pressing down on him like a physical weight. His wounds—bruises from his fight with the forest beast, scratches from thorns—throbbed with sudden intensity.
But he didn't stop.
The altar's surface shifted again, and at its center, a single rune materialized. Unlike the others, this one was solid, tangible—a shard of pure energy shaped into an intricate design.
It pulsed with a rhythm that matched Kael's heartbeat, as though it was alive.
"Take it," the voice said, its tone now sharper, commanding.
Kael hesitated. This was no ordinary exchange. Whatever this thing was offering, it was more than power. It was something primal, something that could rewrite the very fabric of who he was.
But Kael didn't back away. He was no stranger to risk, no stranger to sacrifice. If this was what it took to claim power, so be it.
He reached out, his fingers brushing the surface of the rune.
The moment Kael touched the rune, the world dissolved.
A surge of energy exploded within him, a torrent of light and fire that tore through his body and soul. He fell to his knees, clutching his chest as the power seared through his veins.
His wounds closed in an instant, the pain replaced by a sensation of renewal. Every broken fiber, every scar and bruise, was erased as though they had never existed.
Kael screamed—not from pain, but from the overwhelming intensity of it all.
Images flashed before his eyes—visions of a world beyond worlds, of stars and voids colliding in an endless dance of creation and destruction. He saw civilizations rise and fall, their lives extinguished in the blink of an eye.
And through it all, he felt the rune carving itself into him. Not on his skin, but deep within, embedding itself into the core of his being.
When Kael opened his eyes, the clearing was dark.
The altar was gone.
He staggered to his feet, his body trembling from the aftereffects of the transformation. The faint glow of the rune was gone as well, but he could feel its presence within him, a burning ember that refused to be extinguished.
Kael touched his chest, half-expecting to find some mark or scar. But there was nothing.
"What… happened?" he muttered, his voice hoarse.
There was no answer. The clearing was silent, as though the altar had never been there. Even the air felt different—lighter, emptier.
Kael took a deep breath, steadying himself. The pain was gone, replaced by a strange clarity. His thoughts were sharper, his senses more acute.
And then he noticed something else.
The forest around him, once wild and unyielding, seemed almost… tame. He could feel the life pulsing within it—the faint hum of energy that connected every tree, every blade of grass, every creature.
Magic.
It was faint, like the first breath of a newborn, but it was there. And it was his.
Kael looked at his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists. He didn't fully understand what had happened, but he knew one thing for certain: he had changed.
The rune's presence was a silent promise—a potential that would take time to unlock. But Kael wasn't afraid of the unknown.
He smiled, a dark, predatory smile.
"Whatever you've given me," he said to the empty clearing, "I'll make it mine. Every last shred of it."
The altar's disappearance was a mystery, but Kael didn't dwell on it. He had more pressing concerns. Survival. Strength. Mastery.
And now, he had a reason to believe that his place in this world would not be forgotten.
Kael turned and began walking, the forest no longer feeling like an enemy but a challenge.
The rune burned faintly within him, a seed waiting to grow.
And Kael intended to see it bloom.