The rain fell in thick, unrelenting sheets, painting the city in a dreary, monochrome blur. Puddles formed on the cracked pavement, reflecting the neon lights of convenience stores and passing cars. Erik Smith, a seventeen-year-old high school graduate, sprinted through the downpour, his soaked sneakers slamming against the asphalt.

The distant honk of a truck's horn cut through the storm. Time seemed to slow, each second stretching impossibly long. Through the curtain of rain, Erik spotted a small figure—barely six years old—standing frozen in the middle of the crosswalk, eyes wide with terror.

Instinct overrode logic. Without hesitation, Erik lunged.

Impact. Pain. A blinding flash of white.

His body twisted, weightless for a moment before crashing onto the wet pavement. A fleeting warmth spread across his chest, then drained away, replaced by an eerie numbness. Darkness crept in at the edges of his vision. His final thoughts weren't of fear or regret, but of frustration.

"Just my luck."

Then—nothing.

An unnatural silence surrounded him. No rain. No sound. No sensation. When his eyes fluttered open, he was nowhere.

The abyss stretched infinitely in all directions, an endless void devoid of light, warmth, or gravity. It was as if existence itself had unraveled, leaving only him floating aimlessly in a sea of nothingness. His body—if it even still existed—felt insubstantial, more thought than flesh.

"So this is what dying feels like? Kinda... underwhelming."

His words echoed into the void, though they didn't feel entirely real. He wasn't afraid, not exactly. If anything, he was pissed.

"Seriously? I died saving a kid? Well at least I died for a good cause.. I guess"

A whisper slithered through the abyss, more a feeling than a sound. It clawed at his mind, twisting and shifting. A cold sensation crawled along his spine as the void itself stirred. Something was there.

The darkness rippled and twisted, forming into a shape—a towering figure draped in an endless black shroud. Its glowing purple eyes burned like twin stars, radiating malice and unnatural intelligence. A skeletal hand emerged from its robes, reaching forward with slow, deliberate intent.

Erik tried to move, but there was no body to control, no limbs to resist. The hand pressed against his skull, and a chill like liquid ice seeped into his very being.

"Blood of the fallen... Scion of fate... Your path has been chosen."

The voice resonated deep within his mind, the words foreign yet perfectly understood. They carried a weight, an authority beyond human comprehension. Before he could process them, something shifted within him—an unfamiliar sensation coiling around his essence.

[Transferring to the world of Eclipsed Fate: Chronicles of the Lost Empire.]

The void trembled.

Then, the world shattered.

Pain.

Cold metal dug into his wrists. The rhythmic jolt of a moving cart rocked his body.

Erik's eyes snapped open, and the world returned in a rush of sensory overload. The stench of sweat, damp wood, and unwashed bodies filled his nose, nearly making him gag. His arms felt numb, his neck heavy.

Iron shackles clamped around his wrists and throat, their chains rattling with every lurch of the caravan. The wood beneath him creaked, rough and splintered. Around him, other prisoners slumped against the walls, their eyes hollow, their bodies limp. The air was thick with the scent of hopelessness.

His pulse pounded as reality crashed into him.

This wasn't a dream.

This wasn't Earth.

"Where... the hell am I?"

His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. But no one answered.

Outside, the caravan rumbled forward, carrying him toward a fate unknown.