The moon hung high in the night sky, casting its pale light across the forest. Below, the trees whispered with the wind, their branches swaying like ancient guardians watching over a long-forgotten battlefield. The scent of earth and pine filled the air, but there was something else—something darker—lingering in the breeze.
Xander sat at the edge of a cliff, looking out over the endless expanse of the world below him. He wasn't supposed to be here. This wasn't how it was supposed to end.
He had once been a man, a normal one. He had worked a regular office job, had a few friends, and a woman who seemed perfect—at least, that was what he told himself. His life was ordinary, his future nothing more than a blur of repetition. Until it all came crashing down.
A betrayal. A knife in the back, literally.
The woman he had loved, the one he had trusted above all others, had been the one to orchestrate his death. Not for revenge, not for love, but for greed. The corporate world, with all its ruthless politics, had consumed him in the blink of an eye. And now, he was dead.
Or, at least, he was supposed to be.
But something was wrong.
He was here, on this cliff, watching the world from a place that felt… wrong. It wasn't supposed to be like this. There was no pain, no suffering—yet he remembered every detail of his final moments. The cold steel sinking into his back. The blood. His breath leaving him as the world faded into darkness.
But that was years ago. Or was it?
Xander's fingers twitched. He looked down at his hands, only to be stunned by what he saw. His skin… it was smooth, unmarred by the years of physical labor or the scars that had once been there. He looked younger, healthier. In fact, he looked nothing like the man who had died in that sterile office building.
Before he could think further, a voice broke through his thoughts.
"Not many are able to survive the transition."
Xander whipped around, his instincts kicking in. He wasn't used to this—being on guard, always watching his back. He had been ordinary, after all, just a man like so many others. But the voice that had spoken carried a weight, a command that made his heart skip a beat.
A figure stepped out from the shadows, her silhouette ethereal in the moonlight. She was tall, graceful, with long silver hair that shimmered like a cascade of stars. Her eyes, glowing a faint golden hue, locked onto his with an intensity that made him freeze.
"Who… who are you?" Xander asked, his voice rough.
"I am the Keeper of Transitions," she replied, her voice soft, yet carrying an air of authority. "You are not meant to be here. You should have passed on, but instead, you have returned. Reborn into a new form."
Xander blinked. "What do you mean, returned?"
"You were not just reincarnated. You were chosen," she said, her gaze piercing through him. "You have been imbued with powers beyond mortal comprehension. The life you knew, the life you lost, is over. This world—this new life—is yours to claim."
Xander's head spun. Chosen? Powers? A new life?
"I don't understand." He stepped back, struggling to grasp the reality of what was unfolding. He had never believed in things like magic, gods, or destiny. The world was simple, logical. But now… now, everything was wrong.
The Keeper smiled faintly, stepping closer. "You are not just anyone. Your soul is unique. It carries the legacy of a long-forgotten bloodline, a bloodline that has the power to shape this world. You have been given a second chance to live—this time, to conquer, to rule."
Xander looked at her, still in disbelief. "Ruler? Me? I was nobody. A dead nobody."
"You are no longer just a man," she said, her voice gaining strength. "You are something greater. You have the blood of kings, of warriors. A being who can control the elements, the beasts, the shadows themselves. A being who can rise above all others. A being who can destroy the very gods themselves if he so chooses."
Xander's heart beat faster as his mind raced. Destruction? Gods? Kings?
"This world… this world you speak of," he muttered, "Is it the same one I left behind? Is it real?"
The Keeper's golden eyes softened. "It is real. And it is waiting for you. But be warned, Xander, you are no longer the same. You are something far more dangerous now. The path ahead will not be easy. There are enemies—beasts, vampires, werewolves, immortals—those who seek the power you now possess."
Xander's mind spun. Powers? Beasts? Vampires? What the hell was going on?
"Who's going to stop me?" he asked, his voice cold, no longer the frightened man he once was.
The Keeper's smile returned, but there was a hint of sadness behind it. "The ones who will stop you, Xander, are the ones you once trusted. The ones who will betray you. You will be tested. And it will not be by chance that you succeed. You must decide whether you will become a ruler, a king, or fall to the same weakness that destroyed you in your previous life."
The air around him seemed to hum, and suddenly, a surge of power pulsed through his veins. It was electric, raw, like nothing he had ever felt before. His senses heightened, his body grew stronger, and he could feel it—his new identity forming, something ancient and powerful within him. The transformation was complete.
"I…" Xander began, his voice trembling with newfound strength, "I don't care about gods or kings. I care about one thing."
"And what is that?" the Keeper asked.
"Revenge."
The Keeper's eyes flickered with understanding. "Then claim your destiny, Xander. But remember, not all who seek power can control it."
With those words, the Keeper vanished into the shadows, leaving Xander standing alone on the cliff. The wind howled around him, but he stood still, unmoving. His new life had begun. And with it, he would rise.
The world, with all its enemies and secrets, was waiting. But Xander no longer feared it. He was a king now—whether the world knew it or not.
And nothing would stop him from taking what was rightfully his.