Two days had passed since Kael'tar had fought that wild boar and it's been 12 days since he had woken up to the harsh reality of his new life as a farmer in this pitiful excuse for a village. In that time, he had become intimately acquainted with the indignities of mortal labor
The fields themselves were a constant source of frustration.
The soil was poor, filled with stones and weeds, and the tools provided were little better than scrap.
Kael'tar had quickly learned that brute strength alone wasn't enough to make progress here.
The days were filled with backbreaking labor, and the nights left him too exhausted to think of anything beyond collapsing onto his rickety bed.
The Demon Emperor of a thousand years, once feared across realms, now spent his days planting seeds, hauling water, and wrestling stubborn goats.
The indignity of it all was almost enough to make him laugh—if his aching muscles would allow it.
He leaned against a weathered wooden post, wiping sweat from his brow as the midday sun beat down mercilessly.
His once-pristine hands were now calloused and dirt-streaked, his nails cracked and unkempt.
"How did it come to this?" he muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness.
"You talking to yourself again, big brother?"
Kael turned to see Ryn trotting up the dirt path, carrying a bundle of firewood.
The boy's face was flushed from the effort, but his grin was as wide as ever.
"I was just… contemplating life," Kael said dryly, standing upright.
Ryn chuckled. "You've been weird since you hit your head, but at least you're stronger now. Ma says you've been pulling your weight!"
'Stronger? Hardly.'
Kael'tar had spent the past week observing this body's weaknesses and pushing it to its limits.
Every task became a training session.
Carrying water buckets? An opportunity to build endurance.
Wrestling goats? A lesson in balance and reflexes.
His progress was slow, but it was progress nonetheless.
In the evenings, Kael'tar spent his time observing the village and its inhabitants.
It was a simple place, filled with simple people.
They rose with the sun, toiled in the fields, and retired at dusk to their modest homes.
The villagers had been wary of him at first, but his younger brother Ryn had quickly spread the story of his "head injury" and sudden change in behavior.
Now, most of them simply saw him as a harmless oddball.
But Kael'tar knew better than to trust appearances.
Even in a backwater village like this, there could be hidden dangers.
He had seen too much betrayal in his time to believe otherwise.
One evening, as the family gathered around their modest dinner table, Ryn excitedly relayed the latest village gossip.
"Carseain, you've been quiet tonight," his mother said, glancing at him as she ladled out stew. "Something on your mind?"
Kael hesitated.
Should he share his thoughts?
No.
These people wouldn't understand his ambitions.
"Just tired from the fields," he said finally, forcing a small smile.
His mother nodded sympathetically. "You've been working hard. We're proud of you, son."
The words hit Kael'tar harder than he expected.
Proud?
In his previous life, no one had ever spoken such simple, heartfelt words to him.
It left him momentarily speechless.
"Old Man Garel says he saw lights in the forest again," Ryn said, his eyes wide. "He thinks it's the forest spirits."
Kael'tar raised an eyebrow. "Spirits? Or bandits?"
Ryn shrugged. "Could be either. But if it's spirits, Ma says we need to leave them an offering. Otherwise, they'll curse us!"
Kael'tar smirked. "And what happens if it's bandits? Do we leave them an offering too?"
Their mother shot him a sharp look. "Don't joke about that, Carseain. Bandits are no laughing matter."
He inclined his head, but his mind was already working.
Lights in the forest could mean many things, but none of them boded well.
Later that night, Kael'tar slipped out of the house and into the cool night air.
The moon hung low in the sky, casting silver light over the village.
He made his way toward the edge of the forest, careful to avoid making noise.
The forest was dense and dark, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and moss.
Kael'tar moved cautiously, his senses on high alert.
He had no powers to defend himself now, but his instincts were as sharp as ever.
After some time, he reached a small clearing.
There, in the center, was a faintly glowing light. It hovered a few feet off the ground, pulsing softly.
Kael'tar crouched behind a tree, studying the phenomenon.
It didn't move like fire or lantern light, and there was no sign of anyone nearby.
Suddenly, the light shifted, darting toward him with alarming speed.
Kael'tar's heart raced as he ducked to the side, narrowly avoiding it.
The light paused, hovering in the air as if observing him.
"Anomaly," Kael'tar muttered under his breath. "What are you?"
The light pulsed again, and for a moment, he thought he heard a faint whisper. But before he could make sense of it, the light vanished, leaving him alone in the dark forest.
Kael'tar stood there for a long moment, his mind racing.
If this village was hiding something, he intended to find out what it was. And if it could help him regain his power, all the better.
"Let's see what secrets this place holds," he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips as he turned and made his way back to the village.