The forest seemed less daunting now, though no less dangerous. Kael walked with purpose, his spear resting on his shoulder and his eyes scanning the horizon. His senses, honed sharper by the rune, picked up faint rustles and distant cries of predators. Yet, for the first time since awakening in this unfamiliar world, he felt truly alive.
He didn't just exist in this place—he was part of it. Every breath he took, every step he made, resonated with the land around him. The rune within him pulsed faintly, as though acknowledging his growing understanding.
Still, questions lingered. Why had the altar appeared? What was the rune, and why had it chosen him? More importantly, what price would he ultimately have to pay for this power?
Kael's thoughts darkened as he pressed forward. Whatever answers he sought, he would find them. If this world demanded sacrifice, so be it.
Kael's steps slowed as fragments of memories, not his own, drifted into his mind. They were faint, fragmented images—echoes of the body's previous owner.
Roran. That was his name.
Kael closed his eyes for a moment, letting the memories take shape.
A small village appeared in his mind's eye, its thatched rooftops and dirt paths familiar yet distant. The warmth of a hearth, the laughter of a younger sister, the pride in a father's stern gaze—these were the remnants of Roran's life.
Kael's lip curled slightly. The memories were human, painfully ordinary. Roran had been a simple boy, his ambitions as small as the village he called home.
How did you end up here? Kael wondered, pushing deeper into the fragments.
The images shifted. Roran, older now, with a sword strapped to his waist. The forest loomed around him, his face set in determination. He had been fleeing something—or someone.
Kael saw glimpses of a battle, flashes of steel and fire. Roran had fought well, but his skill hadn't been enough. A shadowy figure loomed over him, and then—darkness.
Kael's eyes snapped open, his breath steady. He felt no pity for Roran. The boy's weakness had been his downfall, and Kael had no patience for weakness.
"You weren't meant for this world," Kael muttered. "But I am."
The memories explained little about how Roran had ended up deep in the wilderness, but Kael had more pressing concerns. The forest was vast, and survival was not guaranteed.
Kael crouched near a bush, his eyes scanning its berries. They were small and dark, with a faint sheen that made them appear almost wet. He plucked one and sniffed it cautiously.
Roran's memories stirred again—a faint warning.
Kael dropped the berry. Poisonous. The boy's instincts had been useful, at least.
His focus shifted to his surroundings. The forest floor was littered with signs of life—tracks from small animals, claw marks on nearby trees, and the occasional feather or tuft of fur. The ecosystem was alive, and Kael needed to become its apex predator.
The rune pulsed faintly, its energy brushing against his thoughts.
"Not yet," Kael said aloud, addressing the power within him. "I don't need you for this."
For now, he would rely on his instincts and wits. Magic, he decided, was a tool to be wielded sparingly—until he truly understood its limits.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, Kael found himself drawn to the strange absence of pain. His body, once scarred and battered, felt whole again. The rune had erased every wound, every mark of his past.
He ran his fingers along his forearm, expecting to feel the jagged scar Roran's memories told him should be there. But there was nothing—smooth, unbroken skin greeted his touch.
Kael's mind wandered back to the altar. The rune had done more than heal him; it had remade him. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that this transformation was more than it seemed.
The forest thickened as Kael ventured deeper. The trees grew taller, their branches twisting into unnatural shapes. The air itself seemed heavier, charged with a faint hum that reminded him of the altar's presence.
It was here that Kael found the first signs of civilization—or what remained of it.
A ruined structure loomed ahead, its stone walls cracked and overgrown with moss. Vines crawled up its surface, their leaves shrouding what little remained of the architecture.
Kael approached cautiously, his spear at the ready. The rune pulsed faintly, as though sensing something familiar.
The ruins were ancient, far older than anything Roran's memories could comprehend. Symbols adorned the walls—runes etched into the stone in a language Kael didn't recognize.
He ran his fingers over one of the symbols, the cold stone sending a shiver down his spine.
For a brief moment, the rune within him flared. Images flooded his mind—fleeting glimpses of a time long past. He saw towering spires, arcane rituals, and figures cloaked in shadows.
Then it was gone, leaving Kael breathless.
Kael's stomach growled, pulling him back to reality. He hadn't eaten since the morning, and the ache was beginning to distract him.
He scanned the ruins, hoping to find something of use. A cache of supplies, perhaps, or at least shelter for the night.
Instead, he found bones.
They were scattered across the floor, some broken, others gnawed clean. The sight sent a chill down Kael's spine. Whatever had lived here—or still did—was no ordinary predator.
The rune pulsed again, stronger this time.
Kael gritted his teeth. The hunger he'd felt earlier flared up, sharper and more insistent. It wasn't just physical—it was something deeper, a craving that went beyond food.
"Not now," Kael muttered, forcing the sensation down. "I control you, not the other way around."
As night fell, Kael settled into the ruins, his spear resting at his side. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of moss and decay.
The rune's presence was a constant thrum, a reminder of the power waiting to be unleashed. Kael's mind raced with possibilities. The altar had given him this gift for a reason, and he intended to find out why.
For now, though, he needed rest. The forest was relentless, and tomorrow would bring new challenges.
Kael leaned back against the cold stone, his gaze drifting to the stars above. The void's brief appearance still lingered in his mind—a silent promise of something greater.
His lips curled into a dark smile. Whatever this world had in store for him, he would face it head-on.
And he would win.