The air stank of iron and sweat as Kai Veroth ducked behind a crumbling wall. His pulse pounded louder than the clash of steel echoing across the village. That rogue knight—some nameless bastard in dented armor—was butchering the militia like cattle. Kai's hands trembled around the rusted sword he'd pulled from a corpse.
This is it, he thought. This is how I die.
He wasn't a warrior. Just a skinny kid from a forgotten village, better at scrubbing pots than holding a blade. But dreams of being a hero didn't stop swords, and the knight was close. Too close.
A scream was cut short. Kai peeked over the wall. The knight's helm glinted in the dying sun, slick with blood that wasn't his.
Why the hell am I even here? One loaf of bread. That's what the elder promised. Just one. Now half the village was dead, and the other half was fleeing.
The ground shook. Heavy boots. Getting closer.
No time left.
Kai sprang from cover, teeth clenched, swinging his sword with everything he had.
Clang.
The blade bounced off the knight's armor like it was tin. His wrists throbbed.
"Pathetic," the knight growled, his voice cold through the helm.
The sword came down.
White-hot pain tore through Kai's chest. The world tilted. He collapsed, blood spilling into the dirt. His fingers twitched. I didn't even get the bread.
Then—black.
But not death.
Not quite.
His eyes shot open with a gasp. Not in a void. Not in heaven. Not in hell. He was still in his body. Still lying in the dirt. But something… was inside him.
A sound squelched in his ear.
Then a voice—wet, hungry, alien.
[PARASITE SYSTEM INITIALIZING...]Host Viability: 4%... 18%... 72%Bonding Complete. New Host Acquired: Kai Veroth.
Kai jerked, his back arching. A sensation like molten needles tore through his veins. Something slithered behind his eyes, coiling around his spine. His mouth opened in a silent scream.
Then—stillness.
His wound was gone. The pain, erased. His heart beat steady.
He sat up, coughing, then stared at the blood-slick grass around him. A few feet away, the knight lay dead. Cracked helm. Empty eyes.
[Skill Extracted: Iron Skin]Description: Temporary dermal reinforcement. Duration: 10 seconds. Cooldown: 1 minute.Source: Rogue Knight (Deceased)
"What the..." Kai whispered. "What is this?"
He touched his chest. Smooth. Unbroken. The gash from the knight's blade was gone. He felt stronger, but not
Footsteps approached.
"Kai?" It was Torv, the old smith. His face went pale. "You're… alive?"
Kai stood slowly, still dazed. "Yeah. I think so."
Torv stared at him, then at the knight's corpse. "What happened?"
Kai didn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
He should have been dead. He was dead. And now?
"I… got lucky," he lied, his voice rasping. "Caught him off guard."
Torv didn't believe it. Kai could see it in the old man's narrowed eyes, in the way his hand hovered near the dagger at his belt. "No one survives a hit like that, kid. Not without a scar."
Kai looked away. "Maybe I didn't."
He started walking.
The village was in ruins. Bodies in the streets. Smoke curling from shattered rooftops. A single loaf of bread. That's what this cost.
Boots crunched behind him.
"Kai," Torv called again, quieter now. "You sure you're alright?"
Kai stopped walking. "I said I'm fine."
"You weren't breathing," Torv muttered, stepping closer. "I checked. You were dead, boy."
Kai turned. "Then I guess you were wrong."
Torv didn't speak. His eyes shifted from Kai's face to the corpse on the ground. To the way the grass around Kai was soaked red, but his shirt wasn't torn.
Kai didn't look back.
Torv's stare burned into his spine, but he kept walking. Past the ruined forge. Past the inn that was little more than ash and splinters now. The sun had dipped low, casting long shadows over the broken village of Redharbor.
He didn't know where his feet were taking him—just away. Away from the blood. Away from the questions.
By nightfall, he was on the road that curved north through the woods. Cold wind bit at his skin, and his shirt was stiff with dried blood. Each step made his legs ache, but he didn't stop. Not until the forest opened to a wide field and, in the distance, lanterns flickered along a wooden palisade wall.
Stonelow.
A farming town. Bigger than small village like Redharbor. Maybe they'd let him in.
Maybe they wouldn't.
"Hold there!"
A torch flared, and a guard stepped forward from the gate. Spear in hand, face shadowed under a dented helmet. "Who are you?"
"Kai," he said, voice hoarse. "From Redharbor."
The guard's expression shifted. "Didn't hear nothin' good from that way."
"It's gone," Kai said flatly. "Raiders. Or mercenaries. Maybe worse."
Another guard joined the first. Younger. Eyes flicked to Kai's torn shirt, to the dried blood. "You hurt?"
"No." He hesitated.
The older guard muttered something under his breath, then nodded toward the gate. "You'll want the outer quarter. Refugees've been coming in since yesterday. Go find someone named Elswen. She's head of the quarter, keeps track of who comes in."
Kai nodded. "Thanks."
Stonelow pulsed with noise.
Barrels burned low, casting long, twitching shadows. Smoke clung to the alleys where people pressed together under tattered canvas, eyes glassy, arms wrapped tight around whatever they had left—blankets, sacks, each other. A baby cried somewhere, then didn't.
No one met Kai's eyes as he passed. Just another figure in soot-stained clothes, boots crusted in blood and mud. Ghosts didn't need introductions.
Near the biggest tent, a tall woman leaned against a pole, chewing a strip of dried meat. She glanced at him, then tilted her chin toward the flap.
He pushed inside.
The air reeked of wet canvas and root broth. A single lantern swung gently overhead, throwing shadows across the cramped space. Behind the rickety table sat a woman—elegant in a way the mud couldn't touch. Her black hair spilled past her shoulders, streaked through with a few thin strands of gold that caught the lantern light like threads of fire.
She didn't look up at first. Just scribbled something down with a worn quill.
"Name?"
"Kai Veroth. Redharbor."
The pen froze mid-word. Her eyes flicked up—sharp, but tired. The kind that had seen a hundred broken stories and didn't flinch at a new one.
"Second one today," she muttered. "Raiders?"
Kai nodded once.
She wrote again, this time slower. "Figures. Grab a bowl if you see one. Cot if there's space."
He turned to go, but her voice stopped him.
"You move like something's still chasing you."
Kai didn't look back.
She waited, maybe for a reply. When none came, she sighed. "Fine. Don't start trouble. Don't steal. And if you die, don't do it here. I'm out of parchment."