Kael Draven knelt in chains before the Divine Order's judgment hall. The marble floors were cold beneath him, the air heavy with incense and whispered prayers. He was not a hero, not a legend—just another knight among the Order's elite forces. But today, he was a traitor.
The High Priests stood above him, their expressions unreadable. "Kael Draven, for your crimes against the gods, your existence shall be erased."
No grand speech. No trial. Just a sentence delivered without hesitation.
A blade of divine light pierced his chest.
Pain flared for only a moment before the world faded. The faces of his comrades—those who once fought beside him—watched in silence. None spoke. None stepped forward.
He had been loyal. He had given everything.
And in the end, he was nothing to them.
But something stirred in the abyss of death. A presence—ancient, watching, waiting.
A voice whispered: Do you seek vengeance?
Before he could answer, darkness surged around him.
When Kael opened his eyes again, he was somewhere else. His hands—young, unscarred.
He was seventeen again.
The Divine Order had discarded him once.
This time, he would rise—not as their knight, but as their reckoning.