Kael's lungs burned as he sprinted through the winding streets of Solvane, the city's grandeur lost in the chaos that engulfed it. The screams of panicked civilians and the distant, unnatural shrieks of the Umbrals blurred into a single cacophony that pounded in his ears.
His legs felt heavy, each step a struggle against the mounting exhaustion. He didn't dare slow down. Not when the shadows were spreading like a tide, consuming everything in their path.
Kael stumbled around a corner, the cobblestones slick with water from a burst conduit. His boots skidded, and he crashed to the ground, the impact jarring his body. He lay there for a moment, gasping for air, his chest heaving as his scraped palms pressed against the rough stones.
The memory of the guard's death slammed into him. The tendrils of shadow coiling around the man, his armor sparking uselessly as the darkness overwhelmed him. The guard's scream—the sound of someone who knew they wouldn't make it out alive—echoed in Kael's head, louder than the chaos around him.
"They're not supposed to be this strong," Kael whispered, his voice shaking.
The Umbrals he remembered from the game weren't like this. Those early encounters were simple fights, a way to ease players into the mechanics of combat. They moved predictably, their attacks slow and easy to dodge. But these creatures were different—faster, deadlier, more deliberate.
He forced himself to sit up, his back pressed against the cold wall of the alley. His hands trembled as he braced himself, the faint hum of energy from a nearby conduit thrumming through his fingertips.
"This isn't a game anymore," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the noise of the city.
His thoughts spiraled. In the game, death was nothing more than a setback. A frustrating moment, sure, but one you could undo with a quick respawn. Here, the reality was suffocating. There were no second chances.
Kael's body tensed as a faint clattering noise echoed from further down the alley.
The sound was sharp and deliberate—metal hitting cobblestone.
His breath hitched, and he froze, his gaze locked on the shadowy end of the narrow passage. The faint light of the conduits cast shifting patterns against the walls, but something else was moving.
A wet, slithering noise followed the clatter, like something dragging itself across the ground.
Kael's heart pounded as he saw it.
A shadow twisted unnaturally at the edge of the alley, its form shifting and writhing as if it couldn't decide on a shape. Tendrils extended from its amorphous body, slithering forward with a slow, deliberate movement. The air grew colder, the light from the conduit dimming slightly as the creature crept closer.
Kael tried to push himself back, his palms scraping against the cobblestones.
"No, no, no," he whispered, his voice trembling.
The Umbral surged forward, its tendrils lashing out toward him. Kael's instincts screamed at him to run, but his body refused to move. He was paralyzed, pinned by the sheer terror of the moment.
A brilliant flash of golden light erupted behind him, flooding the alley with warmth and driving back the encroaching shadows.
Kael turned, blinking against the brightness, and saw a figure standing at the alley's entrance.
The man's sword blazed with golden energy, its glow cutting through the darkness like the first rays of dawn. His polished armor gleamed, the insignia of the Celestial Spire etched into his chest plate. His emerald-green eyes burned with calm determination, unwavering as they locked onto the Umbral.
Kael knew him immediately.
Evan Cross.
The hero of Rise of Arclight.
Evan stepped forward with effortless precision, his sword sweeping in a clean arc that severed the Umbral's tendrils. The creature recoiled, its form pulsing and flickering as the light burned through its dark essence.
Evan didn't stop. He advanced with calculated movements, his sword blazing brighter with each strike. The Umbral screeched as its core was pierced, the sound fading into nothingness as the creature dissolved into wisps of smoke.
Kael's chest tightened as he watched.
He had seen this scene play out a thousand times before. Evan, the chosen one, the leader, the one who always saved the day. And now, here he was, doing it again—stepping in at the perfect moment, playing his role to perfection.
Evan turned to Kael, his expression calm but focused.
"Are you hurt?" Evan asked, his voice steady and firm.
Kael blinked, struggling to find his voice. "I… I'm fine," he stammered, his throat dry.
Evan offered a hand, pulling Kael to his feet with practiced ease. Up close, the hero looked even more polished than Kael remembered from the game. His armor was pristine, unscuffed despite the chaos around him, and his presence radiated confidence.
"You shouldn't be here," Evan said, his tone firm but not unkind. "The streets aren't safe. The Umbrals are spreading faster than we anticipated."
Kael's stomach churned at the way Evan spoke about the creatures. He sounded so... composed, so in control.
"Faster than… anticipated?" Kael echoed, his voice weak.
Evan nodded. "The Grid has been unstable. We've had more frequent attacks, but this one caught us off guard." His emerald gaze softened slightly. "Are you new to Solvane?"
Kael hesitated, his mind scrambling for a response. "Y-yeah," he said finally.
Evan studied him for a moment before offering a faint smile. "Stay close to the main roads. The guards are regrouping, and the defensive lines should hold. You'll be safe there."
Without waiting for a reply, Evan turned and strode back toward the street, his sword still glowing faintly as he disappeared into the chaos.
Kael stood there, his body trembling.
Of course it was Evan who saved the day. It was always Evan. The destined hero, the chosen one, the one who mattered.
Kael's fists clenched. He didn't matter—not here, not in this world.
The bitterness twisted inside him as he turned and stumbled away from the alley.
Kael moved through the quieter streets, the sounds of battle still echoing in the distance. The glow of the Celestial Spire pulsed faintly on the horizon, a reminder of the city's power—and his insignificance.
He stopped near a small fountain, the water trickling softly. Leaning against its edge, he stared into the rippling surface, his reflection distorted by the gentle waves.
The memories of the game surged again. The Kael he had built—the warrior, the hero, the savior—stood tall and proud in his mind's eye, his blade crackling with lightning as he cut through waves of enemies.
But that Kael wasn't him.
Kael's fingers curled against the stone edge of the fountain. His reflection stared back at him, mocking his weakness.
"I'm useless here," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I don't have a Spark. I don't have a weapon. I don't even know what I'm supposed to do."
The water rippled again, but as Kael stared, the bitterness in his chest began to harden into something else.
He had spent years playing this game, mastering its mechanics, learning its world. If anyone knew how things worked here, it was him.
Kael straightened, his hands trembling but his jaw set.
"I don't know why I'm here," he muttered, "but I'm not going to let this world swallow me."
For the first time, Kael didn't feel entirely like a victim. The fear still lingered, but deep beneath it, a spark of determination began to form.