Elliot Kane's world ended in a blur of crimson steel.
The knife, gripped by his wife's lover, plunged into his chest—twisting deeper with each betrayal. He staggered, hands clutching the growing stain on his shirt, eyes locked onto Sarah.
She didn't flinch.
Her hazel eyes—once his harbor—were cold. Distant. The love he had poured into her for a decade was met with a whisper sharper than any blade.
"You were never enough, Elliot."
Papers fluttered to the ground—equations, thermodynamic models, the legacy of a man who believed in order, reason, and trust.
A man now bleeding on his office floor.
And somewhere in the back of his failing mind, another wound reopened Lyra. His adopted sister, gone to illness a year ago. She'd loved him fiercely, silently. And now she, too, was gone.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
---
A scream tore through the void.
Kael Vorne's cry rang out beneath a crimson sky, storms of raw aether crackling above him like shattered promises.
His newborn fists clenched around something impossibly large.
A sword.
A blade of starlight, humming with warmth and... sass?
"Easy now, darlin'. Breathe. You're Kael Vorne now—Aetheria's Chosen. We got worlds to conquer."
The voice echoed in his mind. Familiar. Infuriating. Impossible.
"Lyra...?"
His voice cracked—a boy's whimper overlaid with a dead man's grief. The sword pulsed in his tiny grip.
"Yup, it's me" Lyra's voice sang. "Stuck as your sword, but hey, beats being worm food."
Pain punched him harder than the knife ever had. Could he trust her? Could he trust anyone?
The sound of sobbing pulled him from the spiral.
A woman knelt beside the cradle—raven hair cascading, emerald eyes rimmed red. Her touch was fierce. Real.
"My son," she wept. "My miracle."
Queen Lysara Vorne.
He stiffened.
Memories of Sarah's cold hands clashed with Lysara's warmth. This love felt... dangerous.
Don't get close.
A man stepped forward—King Ardyn, gentle and bearded, holding a humming aether-toy.
"The curse is broken," he whispered. "Our Kael…"
Maids bustled in, starry-eyed.
"Aetheria's Chosen!"
One braided his hair with trembling hands.
"Handsome as a saloon star!" the other giggled.
Kael's mind recoiled. Elliot Kane hadn't been anyone's plaything. And he wasn't starting now.
"Lighten up, darlin'," Lyra drawled. "You're royalty."
A ping shattered the moment.
A blue screen blinked to life before his eyes:
[INFINITE SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
Quest: Polish Boots (Reward: 10 Aetherons)
Energy units. Measurable data. Elliot's logical mind latched on like a lifeline.
"Dismiss."
The screen vanished.
"Already bossin' the world," Lyra teased.
Kael ignored her, heart locked behind steel.
---
The palace of Aetherion towered like a crystal dream, its walls shimmering under Vastara's storm-lit skies. Matriarchy ruled here. Queen Lysara led, King Ardyn advised, and Kael—male, chosen, cursed—was an anomaly.
Then she appeared.
High Priestess Celestine. Silver robes trailing behind her, eyes like ancient moons.
"Kael Vorne, Chosen of the Gate," she intoned, pressing her cool fingers to his brow. "Born to unite Vastara. To seal the Blackthorn Gate. To slay Demon King Malzath."
Kael's breath caught. The name pulsed in his memory like a dark star.
"The gate stirs," she whispered.
His chest ached. Not just with fear—but with curiosity. He'd been a scientist, after all. Even in pain, Elliot Kane sought understanding.
He gripped Lyra's hilt tighter. The blade thrummed—90 cycles per span.
"Aetheric Dynamics," he murmured.
His own field. His own law. His control.
"Clever boy," Lyra chuckled. "We'll own this dust-ball."
---
The door creaked.
A child peeked in. Eight years old, auburn braids swinging, eyes wide with wonder.
"Kael!" she beamed. "You're awake!"
Talia Wren.
A memory flickered—her laughter under Aetherion's slum-starlight, loyalty forged in childhood dreams.
"We'll adventure again, right?" she whispered, brushing his fingers with hers.
Kael froze.
The warmth of her touch cracked something inside him.
"She's smitten, cowboy," Lyra teased.
Kael yanked his hand away. Love was a knife. He'd been stabbed once. Never again.
---
Outside, chants shook the spires.
"Chosen! Chosen!"
Lysara's voice trembled as she held him close.
"You'll unify Vastara, Kael. Malzath's betrayal poisoned us. Klythe, Valthorne… all fell. Forty percent of our veins corrupted. Ninety-five percent of our army lost in Eryndora."
She kissed his brow.
"You broke the curse, my son. You are hope reborn."
Hope? No. He wasn't a hero.
He was the remains of a man who trusted the wrong heart.
---
A flicker in the shadows. A cultist. Black crystal glinting in the dark.
"Black Veil Cult," Lyra hissed. "Malzath's mutts."
Kael's body was that of a newborn.
But inside, Elliot Kane's resolve roared.
He'd died once. He would not die again.
Not to betrayal.
Not to demons.
Not to fate.
Kael Vorne would conquer—not for love. Not for destiny.
But to bury the man named Elliot Kane.
Forever.