Pain.
Not the bone-shattering kind that tore him from his old life, but dull and persistent, like he'd been bruised in a hundred places. Ethan groaned as he stirred awake, the glow of the portal now only a hazy memory.
His eyes blinked open to a world painted in gold and green. Sunlight filtered through the cracked wooden beams of a roof far too close to his face. The scent of straw and dust hung in the air.
He was lying on a rough pile of hay in what looked like a barn or a stable. Birds chirped outside. Somewhere, a goat bleated.
"…Well, I guess I made it," Ethan muttered, sitting up.
His body felt strange—not alien, just different. Leaner, a little shorter. His hands were smaller, fingers thinner. He scrambled toward a bucket of water in the corner and stared at his reflection.
A boy around fifteen stared back at him. Tousled black hair, dark eyes, slightly hollow cheeks. The same soul, behind new eyes.
He touched his face. "Huh. Kinda cute."
Then the memories hit him like a wave.
Not his own. Someone else's.
He was Ethan… but he was also Kael. The orphan boy from the border village of Virestead. Parents gone in a raid. Raised in the temple orphanage. Scraped by doing odd jobs. Fought bullies. Fought hunger.
Fought to matter.
It was like watching a movie of someone else's life, but he felt it—every ache, every humiliation, every small moment of pride. The system, it seemed, had embedded him thoroughly into this world.
"Okay, so I'm Kael now," he whispered, adjusting to the name like trying on new clothes. "But I've still got my skills, right?"
He focused, willing the system to appear. And it did.
[Soul Interface - Kael]Level: 1Class: NoneRace: HumanSkills Acquired:
Time Dilation – Active
Sword Mastery (Lv. MAX) – Passive
Regen (Enhanced) – Passive
Shadowstep – Active (Cooldown: 10s)
Beast Taming – Passive
Auto-Translation – Passive
Soulbound Weapon – Summonable
Elemental Affinity: Lightning – Passive
Dimensional Storage – Active
Luck of the Fates – Passive
Kael let out a slow breath. "Still there. Thank the gods—or whoever's watching."
He reached out mentally to summon his Soulbound Weapon.
A jolt ran down his arm. Lightning sparked at his fingertips. In a crackle of raw energy, a blade forged of silver and stormlight appeared in his hand.
Long, sleek, balanced—like it was made for him.
The blade hummed with power.
Name: Veyrion, Blade of the Stormborn.Status: Dormant – Evolves with wielder.
Kael grinned. "Now that's what I'm talking about."
A knock at the barn door startled him. He leapt to his feet, the sword vanishing with a thought.
The door creaked open and a girl peeked in. She looked about his age, with wild auburn hair and a smudge of soot on her cheek.
"There you are," she said. "You were out cold all night. You okay?"
He blinked. "Uh… yeah. Just… weird dreams."
"Not surprising. Sister Lira said you hit your head trying to fix the bell tower again. Told you not to climb it barefoot."
"Right," Kael said, nodding like it made perfect sense. "Won't do that again."
The girl raised an eyebrow. "You sure you're not still dizzy?"
He smiled faintly. "Little bit. What's your name again?"
She frowned. "You serious?"
"…Really bad head bump."
"It's Rynn," she said, clearly not buying it. "You've known me since we were six. I brought you dinner last night, by the way. You slept through it."
Kael rubbed the back of his neck. "Then I owe you one. Thanks, Rynn."
"Whatever. Just don't die. We've only got so many idiots around here."
She turned and walked off, muttering something about "orphans and their brain injuries."
Kael chuckled to himself. "Okay. So I have a friend. Cool."
The day passed in a blur. The village of Virestead was small—maybe fifty buildings total, nestled between a forest and the hills. Farmers, blacksmiths, traders. A couple of retired adventurers. No signs of monsters or war—yet.
Kael helped the temple clean out a storage shed, tested how far he could Shadowstep (almost broke his nose on a beam), and practiced drawing his blade in secret behind the barn.
But something nagged at him.
This world was quiet. Too quiet.
If the system gave him ten skills that powerful, there had to be a reason. And he could feel it in his bones—this was the calm before the storm.
Late that night, as the village lights dimmed and the stars came out in droves, Kael climbed the hill overlooking the valley.
He stood there, sword in hand, watching the wind bend the tall grass.
"Alright," he said aloud, voice barely above a whisper. "You gave me a second chance. I won't waste it."
He didn't know what was coming. But when it did?
He'd be ready.