The cold stung like betrayal.
Not the metaphorical kind—Jasen had felt enough of that in his old life. No, this was primal, glacial pain: the air so sharp it cut the skin, the snow grinding like glass beneath his bare feet. He gasped, his breath frosting instantly in the frigid air, lungs spasming like they were drowning.
And then he remembered—he had died.
He didn't remember how. Just flashes. A light. A pressure in his chest. Maybe a car? A fall? None of it mattered now.
Because Jasen Smith was no longer in his world. No longer in the 21st century. No longer even... human.
He was small, and naked, and dark-skinned, with skin that shimmered faintly against the moonlight. His limbs trembled not just from cold but weakness—youth. His hands were tiny.
The first real detail that broke through the confusion were his eyes. Not from looking—he couldn't see them—but he felt them. Like a pair of beacons set into his skull, glowing with heat even in this frozen alley.
Gold.
Not hazel, not brown, not even amber. Gold, bright and unnatural. A witch's fire, caught behind pupils.
He stumbled forward, barefoot on cobblestone slick with slush and gods-knew-what else. The narrow alley reeked of rot, smoke, and something older—metallic. Like rust and spoiled meat.
A town. He was in some medieval shithole of a town.
Then he saw it.
A figure—man? Beast?—its silhouette blotting out the firelight spilling from a crooked tavern window. Eight feet tall, hunched, with spindly limbs and a face split with fangs like broken blades.
Its eyes glowed red.
And it was eating someone.
Jasen—backed up fast. Slipped. Fell into a pile of slush and trash.
The thing snapped its head toward him, nose twitching, claws clicking against the stone as it turned. A single string of viscera hung from its maw like a ribbon. Cain's new heart tried to jump through his ribs.
"Oh... shit."
The beast lunged.
And then it died.
A silver blur cleaved through its neck, blood fountaining like wine into the snow. The body thudded beside Cain with a wet, meaty slap, spraying filth across his skin.
Standing above the corpse was a man in black leather, snow melting against his shoulders, white hair loose around a pale face marked with cat-like yellow eyes.
Geralt of Rivia.
Cain blinked.
"No..." he muttered, heart still thundering. "No way... This... This can't be real."
Geralt looked down at him with a half-scowl, half-curious tilt of his head. "You alright, boy?"
Cain opened his mouth—and a little blue window blinked into existence before him, floating in the air like a hologram:
[Status Window Unlocked]Name: CainAge: 8Race: Half-ElfClass: ???Bloodline: [Elder Blood – Dormant]
[New Quest Received]"Fangs in the Snow" – Survive your first night in the Continent.
Objective: Stay alive and out of danger until dawn.
Reward:– 1 Rare Equipment Chest– Beginner Codex: Monster Biology
Penalty for Failure: Death. Permanent.
Accept? [Y/N]
Cain gaped at it.
Geralt raised an eyebrow. "You hit your head, boy?"
Cain slammed his eyes shut. Breathed deep.
Okay. Calm down. Analyze. You're not dreaming. You're not high. You're not hallucinating. This is real. You're eight years old. You're in the f**ing Witcher universe. And that's Geralt of goddamn Rivia.*
He opened his eyes and quietly tapped "Y."
The window vanished with a soft chime.
Geralt knelt down beside him. "Where are your clothes?"
Cain blinked. His teeth chattered. "I... I don't know. I just... woke up here."
The Witcher studied him with the weariness of a man who'd seen too many strange things in his time. "No parents? No shoes?"
"No."
Cain tried to sit up but winced as the pain finally hit—frostbite nipping at his fingers, hunger gnawing his stomach, something sticky and warm seeping from a gash on his leg.
Geralt muttered something under his breath. Then sighed.
"Get up. Can't leave you here. You'll die before morning."
He reached down and, without much ceremony, hauled Cain up into his arms like a sack of potatoes.
For the first time in this new life, Cain cried.
Not because he was scared.
Because this world was real.
Because his second chance had already begun.
Because now... he had something to fight for.
[Quest In Progress: "Fangs in the Snow"]Status: Surviving...