The battlefield burned. Shadows danced across the crimson-stained earth as the dying screamed their final curses to gods who refused to answer. Kael stood at the center of the chaos, blood dripping from the edge of his greatsword. His armor, once gleaming silver, was now a patchwork of cracks and gore. Around him lay the corpses of those who dared to challenge him, their weapons shattered, their faces frozen in fear.
The tide of war had shifted. Victory was within reach.
But Kael felt no relief. A bitter chill crawled up his spine as his grip tightened on his blade.
"Is this how it ends?"
The voice came from behind him, soft and familiar, laced with venom. Kael turned, his breath catching in his throat. Standing there, illuminated by the flickering light of the dying fires, was Rynne, his most trusted companion, the man he had fought alongside for years.
"Rynne…?" Kael's voice wavered, disbelief etched across his face.
Rynne stepped forward, his own blade drawn, its edge gleaming unnaturally bright. "You always were the hero, weren't you, Kael? The unshakable warrior. The people's champion. And yet, for all your strength, you never saw this coming."
Kael's mind raced. "Why? We fought for the same dream! For peace! For freedom!"
Rynne sneered. "Peace is a lie told by the weak. Freedom? No one is free—not when the gods pull the strings. But I found a way to break free, Kael. And for that… you must die."
Before Kael could react, Rynne lunged. Their blades met in a deafening clash, sparks flying as steel ground against steel. Rynne moved with a speed Kael had never seen before, his strikes precise, his strength monstrous.
But it wasn't just Rynne's skill that unnerved him. There was something wrong—a dark energy radiated from his former comrade, warping the air around him.
"You're not Rynne," Kael growled, parrying a brutal strike.
Rynne's grin widened. "Perhaps not entirely. But it's still me enough to know your every weakness."
With a sudden twist, Rynne's blade shattered Kael's defenses. A searing pain tore through Kael's chest as the blade plunged deep. He staggered, blood pouring from the wound, his vision blurring.
As he fell to his knees, Rynne leaned in close, whispering, "This world… this war… they were just the beginning. You're too blind to see the real enemy, Kael. But don't worry. Where you're going, you'll have plenty of time to reflect."
Kael's strength ebbed away, but as the light in his eyes began to fade, something stirred deep within him—a voice, ancient and powerful, echoing in his mind.
"This is not your end, child of the blade. You will rise again, though the price will be steep."
The battlefield dissolved around him. He was no longer kneeling on blood-soaked earth but floating in an endless void, his body weightless, his pain momentarily forgotten. In the distance, a faint light flickered, growing closer.
It was a sword, ancient and otherworldly, its form shifting between gleaming silver and molten flame. The moment Kael reached for it, the void trembled. Visions of countless lives flashed before his eyes—warriors, kings, assassins, even monsters.
Then came the final vision. Kael saw himself, standing atop a mountain of corpses, the world burning around him, his face unrecognizable, twisted by a power that was no longer human.
The sword whispered. "Accept me, and defy the cycle."
As Kael's fingers brushed the blade, pain erupted through his soul. His chest burned with a familiar mark, a symbol he had never seen but somehow knew—the Aeternal Blade.
The void shattered.
Kael gasped, his lungs filling with air as he awoke in a foreign body—a frail, scarred young man lying in the filth of an alley. Around him loomed towering spires of a city drenched in shadows, its air thick with the stench of rot and corruption.
Before he could even process his surroundings, a haunting voice echoed in his mind.
"You have one chance to break the cycle, Kael. Fail, and this world will burn like the others."
And then, footsteps approached. Shadows flickered as figures emerged from the darkness, their eyes glowing with malevolent intent.
"Looks like we found another stray," one of them sneered, cracking his knuckles.
Kael tried to rise, his body trembling. His gaze fell to his hands—thin, weak, unrecognizable. His strength was gone, his sword nowhere to be found.
But deep within, the mark pulsed with faint light.
The gang closed in, Kael clenched his fists, ready to carve his path back to power—no matter the cost.
Damn it all. He cursed in his mind.