The dust had finally settled on the open fields east of the Kingdom of Malika. The battle had ended just an hour ago, and the few surviving soldiers had already departed—returning to their families, leaving behind only corpses and silence. The stench of blood and death still hung thick in the air, poisoning the field like an invisible fog.
A fleet of Malikan soldiers had been dispatched to confront a group of hunters trespassing on the kingdom's territory. A simple warning would have sent them packing—but instead, the soldiers chose the simpler, bloodier option: kill the hunters, and leave their bodies to rot, to be devoured by the very beasts they hunted.
"Gasp!"
A single breath shattered the silence.
One of the hunters was still alive.
He'd only just regained consciousness, the metallic scent of blood overwhelming his senses. His mind spun wildly, unable to focus, unable to understand. But there was one thing he felt with perfect clarity—an unbearable, stabbing pain in his chest.
'Ah—my chest. What the fuck... why does it hurt so bad?'
With great effort, he pried open his eyes. Above him: the open sky. Familiar, but out of place. He blinked, confused. Why could he see the sky? Hadn't he gone to sleep in his bed?
He groaned and lifted his head, and then he saw it—the silver glint of a blade embedded deep in his chest. His eyes widened. His blood had begun to crust along the steel's edges, sticky and dark.
'Shit! What the hell happened? This has to be a dream—no way this is real.'
Disoriented and writhing in pain, his eyes darted around the battlefield. Nothing made sense. Mangled bodies lay scattered across the field, torn limbs and severed heads strewn like discarded dolls. The grotesque scene seared itself into his mind, a waking nightmare he couldn't blink away from.
'This hurts way too much to be a dream.'
Without wasting another second, his trembling hands reached toward the hilt of the sword lodged in his chest. Gritting his teeth, he began to pull. The blade scraped against his insides as it left his body, slicing through torn muscle and broken bone. He held in his scream.
Finally, the blade came free.
Blood spurted from the wound as he cast the weapon aside. His arms collapsed to the ground. His vision blurred. His breath caught in his throat. For a terrifying moment, everything slowed.
Then, clarity returned—and with it, a strange calm.
Each second that passed dulled the pain. He could feel the rest of his body again. Weak, trembling, but functional. Somehow, against all logic, he found the strength to stand.
And the moment he did, a wave of memories crashed into him—not physical, but just as violent. His knees buckled. His head throbbed. He saw flashes of a life that wasn't his: a childhood, friendships, years of experience leading all the way up to this moment—when a blade pierced his chest.
But the man in those memories wasn't him.
'Are these… my memories?'
He clutched his head, struggling to make sense of it.
'No. No, they're not mine. I remember who I am. My family… my friends… school… Fuck. Everything but my name. This is insane.'
But then—one name surfaced, loud and clear. A name whispered throughout those foreign memories.
Kain.
He looked down at his blood-stained chest.
Kain. A name not his, yet now inescapably a part of him. The name of this new body and the name he will dawn in this new world.
Kain had no last name. He'd been disowned at birth, blamed for a sin he had no control over—killing his twin brother in the womb. His parents had cast him aside before they had even returned home.
'So I'm in a new body… and judging by Kain's memories, this sure as hell isn't Earth. Or at least, not my Earth.'
He paused.
Then he laughed—a raw, incredulous laugh.
"This is the sickest shit ever!"
Adrenaline surged through him. His fists clenched with excitement. He'd always fantasized about being transported to another world. He never actually thought it would happen.
But here he was—standing on a field of death, wearing someone else's body, surrounded by the remains of a brutal battle.
And then, it happened.
Something shimmered in front of him—like golden silk threads, woven by the air itself. The strands swirled and twisted, shaping themselves into words suspended in the air:
Hello. We have brought you here to this unknown world.
You will have endless questions but we will provide no answers, as that is your job, so have fun.
And just know…You aren't the only one.
Good Luck.