The scream tore from Kael's throat before he was fully awake.
He bolted upright, breath ragged, hands grasping at his chest as if to claw out a blade that wasn't there. The phantom pain burned hot and deep, a cruel echo of another death in another life.
Rain. Pavement. Steel.
Daiki's smirk.Mizuki's perfume.The knife.
Light spilled into the room as the door burst open. Lyria reached him first, her hands cool against his fevered skin, her fingers trembling despite her calm voice.
"Kael. Sweetheart. Look at me. You're safe. You're here."
Garrik stood in the doorway, shoulders squared, his eyes searching for danger. No sword. Just a father with fear carved into his face.
Kael gasped, his voice cracked and low. "I'm... I'm okay."
It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth either.
His words sounded older than thirteen, older than the boy he pretended to be.
Lyria brushed damp hair from his forehead, her touch soft and steady. "Was it a nightmare?"
I remember being murdered.I remember being twenty-eight.I remember your goddess is watching us right now.
Kael nodded slowly. "Yeah. Falling. I dreamt I was falling."
Garrik stepped into the room, the wooden floor creaking under his weight. He sat at the bed's edge, his voice low and rough with concern.
"Falling dreams mean you're afraid of losing control." His hand landed on Kael's shoulder, solid and grounding. "You've been pushing hard with training. Maybe your mind's just catching up."
Kael let out a breath that might've been a laugh. If only it were that simple.
The Quiet Changes
The days that followed were filled with small silences and sideways glances.
At breakfast, Kael caught Lyria watching him stir tea without spilling a drop. Her gaze lingered too long on the way he folded his napkin.
In the training yard, Garrik tilted his head after Kael corrected a dagger grip mid-swing.
"You've never seen that technique before."
Kael shrugged. "Must've picked it up... watching you."
He hated how forced his smile felt.
But the worst moment came in the kitchen.
"Kael, the onions," Lyria began.
"Need to be diced smaller. I know." He didn't mean to cut her off. His hands moved with unconscious precision, the blade slicing clean and quick.
When he looked up, her face was unreadable.
"You've always hated knife work," she said softly.
Kael gave a tight smile. "Guess I'm growing up."
That night, whispers crept through the cottage walls.
"There's something different about him," Lyria said.
"He's thirteen," Garrik replied. "They change."
"He stopped calling me 'Mom.'"
A silence stretched between them.
Then, Garrik's voice, quieter: "We'll keep an eye on him. Just in case."
Kael stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep.
Just in case.
The First Trial
[SYSTEM NOTICE]First Trial Initiated: Forest of Whispers
The words burned behind his eyes as Kael crept through the woods beneath the moonlight, the soft crunch of leaves swallowed by the wind. He'd slipped out as quietly as he could. No sword, no armor, no real plan. Just instinct. And the memory of a life where instinct had been everything.
But the forest was no longer normal.
The trees loomed like twisted statues, bark cracking open to reveal pulsing veins of blue light. Something skittered through the branches, whispering in tongues he didn't understand.
[SYSTEM ALERT]Target: Lesser Shadow Stalker (LVL 3)Weakness: Light-based attacks
Kael froze.
The creature emerged from the shadows, its form half-seen, half-guessed. Joints bent the wrong way. A single, yellow eye blinked from beneath a veil of black mist.
No weapon.No spells.Just Kael.
The stalker lunged.
He moved. Instinct, not training. He rolled left, grabbed a fallen branch, and hurled it right. The creature flinched, turning to chase the distraction.
Kael didn't hesitate.
His fingers closed around a jagged stone, and he sprang, driving it into the beast's eye with every ounce of strength his small body could muster.
The creature screeched. Then it dissolved into smoke.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]Trial CompletePain Bank Unlocked: 23% CapacityWarning: Parental units approaching
He wiped the black ichor from his hands just as his father's voice thundered through the trees.
"KAEL!"
The Walk Home
Garrik's grip clamped onto Kael's shoulder, iron-hard.
"What in the seven hells were you thinking?"
"I couldn't sleep," Kael said.
Lyria said nothing. Her eyes scanned his body, lingered on the torn sleeve, the unnatural darkness clinging faintly to his boots.
"You don't just wander into the deep woods," Garrik growled. "You're not some invincible little hero. This is how kids disappear."
Kael lowered his gaze. He couldn't meet their eyes. Not now. Not yet.
Then he saw it behind the anger. Real fear.
His father wasn't yelling because he was furious.
He was yelling because he was terrified.
Kael's chest ached.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Lyria stepped closer. Her voice was soft and strange.
"Your eyes," she said.
Kael looked up, confused.
"They glow now. In the dark."
The Truth They Don't Know
Back in his room, Kael stood in front of the mirror. The golden eye stared back at him, faintly luminous, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.
[SYSTEM MESSAGE]Memory Integration: 100%Next trial in: 6 days, 23 hours
Outside his door, the floorboards creaked. Whispered voices bled through the walls.
"We should tell him," Lyria murmured.
"And say what?" Garrik replied. "That we stole him from a temple? That his real mother was"
A shushing noise. Then footsteps retreating.
Then silence.
Kael pressed his forehead against the window, the glass cold against his skin. Beyond the trees, the night stretched endless and dark.
And in the dark, Seira laughed inside his head.
"Oh, little hybrid. You have no idea how fun this will be."