Kyle stood in the middle of the bustling street, his breathing shallow, his hands trembling.

The spires of Solvane stretched high into the sky, their glowing veins pulsing faintly in rhythm with the city's heartbeat. The Celestial Spire dominated the horizon, its crystalline structure radiating a blue glow that felt alive. Every detail—the cobblestones, the merchants' stalls, the armored adventurers—was exactly as he remembered it.

But not just remembered.

The images in his head didn't feel like memories of playing a game. They felt real.

A rush of strange sensations flooded his mind. He could see Kael, the character he had spent years crafting in Rise of Arclight. The towering figure stood proud and confident, his armor gleaming with golden trim, his blade crackling with arcs of lightning. He could feel the weight of the blade in his hands, the hum of its energy coursing through him.

Kael—the game Kael—had always been in control. A warrior with the strength to lead armies, a hero who stood unyielding against the darkness. The memories flickered like scenes from a movie:

A battle against the Umbral Horde, shadows writhing and screaming as Kael's blade tore through them with precision.

The sound of cheers as NPCs thanked him for saving their village, their voices warm and full of gratitude.

The sight of the Celestial Spire towering above him as he accepted his first relic, a reward for a quest completed with perfection.

Kael blinked, his storm-gray eyes wide as the memories flashed faster, overlapping and blending with his reality. They didn't make sense. He wasn't Kael the hero. He wasn't strong or confident or clad in legendary gear.

He was just... himself. A lean, baby-blue-haired nobody standing in the middle of a city that shouldn't exist.

"What's happening to me?" he muttered, clutching his head.

More memories poured in, like a dam had burst inside his mind.

He remembered the Threads of Creation, the mysterious glowing veins that connected the Celestial Grid. They were a key part of the game's lore, but now they shimmered faintly around him, hidden just beneath the surface of the spires and conduits. In the game, they were beautiful, a mark of humanity's power.

But here, they felt ominous.

He saw himself—or rather, his character—standing before the Grand Arclight Council, their stern faces regarding him with reverence as they named him the Vanguard of Light. He could feel the weight of the responsibility they had placed on him, a mantle he had worn proudly in the game.

The memories shifted again, showing him a moment of triumph. Kael—hero Kael—had driven his sword into the heart of an Umbral General, its form dissipating into shadowy tendrils that screamed as they dissolved. The cheers of his allies echoed in his ears, followed by the congratulatory message on the game screen: Victory Achieved.

Kyle staggered, his knees almost giving out beneath him. The memories were too vivid, too sharp. They weren't just flashes of playing the game; they felt lived.

But how could that be?

The noise of the market dragged him back to the present. Merchants were shouting, their voices overlapping:

"Mana crystals! Straight from the mines of Nightforge!"

"Relic repairs, no finer work in Solvane!"

"Fresh bread, straight out of the oven!"

Kael's gaze darted around, his breath quickening. The blend of his memories and the real world was overwhelming. He clutched the parchment in his pocket, unfolding it once more.

Kael Throne.

That name was his. Both his character and now... whoever he was in this world.

He stared down at his hands again, turning them over. They weren't the hands of the warrior he remembered. They were his—thin, calloused, trembling.

"This isn't possible," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

The weight of realization pressed down on him, making it harder to breathe. He wasn't the Kael of his memories. That Kael was a hero, a leader, a savior.

This Kael was no one.

"This is... Solvane," he said softly, his voice breaking as the truth crashed down around him.

The memories continued to swirl as Kael tried to steady himself. He remembered the strength of the character he had built, the charisma that had drawn allies to him, the countless victories he had achieved. But they felt distant, like they belonged to someone else entirely.

He stumbled toward the wall of a nearby building, bracing himself against the cold stone. The texture felt too real, too solid. A faint hum of energy pulsed through it, a reminder that even the city's infrastructure was tied to the Celestial Grid.

Kael forced himself to take a deep breath, grounding himself in the present. He needed to think, to figure out what was happening.

But before he could focus, the ground beneath him shook violently.

A deafening BOOM echoed through the market square, followed by a ripple of energy that sent shockwaves through the cobblestones.

Kael stumbled, catching himself against the wall. Screams erupted around him as the bustling market descended into chaos.

In the distance, shadows began to writhe, spilling into the street like living ink. The sunlight seemed to dim, as if the shadows were devouring it, and the air grew cold.

Kael's heart raced as he stared at the approaching figures. Tendrils of darkness lashed out, striking at the buildings and market stalls, leaving blackened scorch marks in their wake.

"Umbrals," Kael whispered, his voice trembling.

The word came from both memory and instinct. These were the same shadowy creatures he had fought countless times in the game. But here, seeing them move with terrifying purpose, they felt entirely different.

The nearest tendril lashed out, striking a merchant's cart and sending it crashing to the ground. The merchant screamed, scrambling away as the shadows consumed the wooden frame, turning it to ash.

Guards rushed forward, their weapons glowing faintly with enchantments. A squad of adventurers joined the fight, hurling fireballs and lightning bolts at the approaching mass.

Kael's feet refused to move. He stood frozen, his mind screaming at him to run, but his body refused to obey.

Another tendril struck, this time wrapping around a guard. The man cried out, dark energy surging through his body before he collapsed, unmoving.

Kael felt his chest tighten. This wasn't a game. There was no respawn, no retry. That guard was dead.

"Move, idiot!" someone shouted, shoving Kael out of the way.

He stumbled, catching himself just as another explosion rocked the square. The shadows surged forward, and the battle grew fiercer. Adventurers shouted commands, their voices blending with the screams of fleeing civilians.

Kael finally turned and ran, his heart pounding in his chest.

As he sprinted through the narrow streets, his thoughts spiraled. He wasn't Kael the hero. He wasn't strong. He didn't have legendary armor or a relic to protect him.

He was just... an extra.

The shadows loomed behind him, and Kael pushed himself harder, his breaths ragged. He didn't know where he was going—only that if he stopped, he wouldn't get a second chance.