The forest was alive with danger. Creatures of all sizes and shapes roamed the land, their eyes glowing with hunger. Kael had no weapons—no armor. His once-glorious sword, forged by the gods themselves, had been lost in the fall. He was a man, nothing more. And yet, there was something in him that refused to bow to the world's cruelty.
His first test came that night. A pack of wild beasts, larger than any creature he had ever seen in the celestial realm, surrounded him. Their eyes gleamed with hunger, and their growls filled the air, echoing through the trees. Kael's instincts surged. The primal energy of the world flowed through him, and he felt his muscles tighten, his senses sharpen.
He was a warrior, no matter what had been done to him.
The beasts lunged, their claws slashing through the air. Kael sidestepped the first strike, his body moving with the precision of a warrior who had fought countless battles. His hands, though bare, found a fallen branch—sharp and sturdy. With a roar, Kael plunged it into the chest of the first beast. It fell with a sickening thud, and the rest hesitated, sensing the strength within him.
His eyes burned with intensity. They would not kill him tonight.
He fought with the savage grace of a warrior who knew no defeat. The next beast lunged, but Kael was already gone, a blur of motion, stabbing the creature through the side with the branch. The pack, now fewer in number, began to retreat, their instinct telling them that this mortal was more dangerous than they realized.
Breathing heavily, Kael stood over the slain beasts, his chest heaving. It was a small victory, but it was a victory nonetheless. He had survived. And he would continue to survive.