The last thing I remembered was the screech of tires on wet asphalt, the world flipping like a bad dream, and that goddamn truck's headlights swallowing everything. "What a fucking waste," I muttered—or thought I did—as metal crumpled around me like cheap tin. Pain, then nothing. Black. The kind of black that eats souls.
Then came the light. Not heaven's glow, but a brutal, sulfur-stenched glare that stabbed straight into my skull. My eyes snapped open to chains biting into my wrists, the metallic tang of blood flooding my mouth. I tried to move—wrong. This body wasn't mine. Too lean, too scarred, ribs aching like they'd been kicked by a horse. I was kneeling in sand that crunched under my knees, hot as fresh ash. Roars echoed from all sides—crowd roars, beast roars, the wet thwack of whips slicing air.
"What the hell..." My voice came out hoarse, foreign. A slave's rasp, branded with some ancient script across my chest that burned like fresh ink.
The arena sprawled before me: a colossal pit carved into the side of a floating island, its edges ringed by jagged stone spires that hummed with faint, eerie light. Beyond the barriers, the sky was a fractured mosaic—pieces of land drifting like broken puzzle bits, connected by glowing bridges that shimmered and faded like mirages. Valthoria, the Shatterrealm. I knew it instinctively, like the knowledge had been hammered into this body's brain. Or my brain now. Earth was gone. Kael Voss, 28, office drone turned roadkill, was dust.
A horn blared, low and guttural, vibrating through the stone. The crowd—thousands of them, highborn in silks and leathers, slum rats cheering from the cheap seats—erupted. "Blood for the Weavers! Shatter the weak!"
Directly across from me, a massive iron gate groaned open. From the shadows lumbered it: a rift-beast. Eight feet of rippling muscle and jagged scales, eyes glowing like molten ore. Its maw dripped saliva that sizzled on the sand, and those claws—fuck, those claws could eviscerate a tank. Two more gates creaked. Three beasts total, circling like wolves scenting prey.
I yanked at the chains. They held. Panic clawed up my throat. This is it. Reincarnation my ass—I'm about to be beast chow.
A voice boomed from the overseer's dais, a pompous prick in golden robes flanked by armored guards. "For the crime of thieving a shard from House Veyr, the slave known as Thorne—former pit-fighter, now meat—shall feed the rift! Let the games begin!"
Thorne. That was the body's name. Memories flickered: a life of chains, arena scraps, a failed escape. But I wasn't him. I was me. And I wasn't dying here.
The beasts charged. The lead one leaped, jaws unhinging wide enough to swallow my head. Sand exploded under its paws. I rolled—instinct, or Thorne's muscle memory?—and the chain snapped taut, yanking me back. Claws raked the air where my face had been, close enough to smell the rot on its breath.
Move, you idiot! I screamed at myself. But the chains were anchored deep. The other two beasts flanked, one swiping low, the other rearing for a pounce.
That's when it hit. A crack inside my chest, like glass shattering under pressure. Not pain—power. A voice slithered into my mind, smooth as oil, laced with mockery.
Shattercore: Online.
Host: Kael Voss.
Soul Transfer: 87% Complete.
Residual Echoes: Thorne (Deceased).
Warning: Fracture Core is parasitic.
Feed it... or it feeds on you.
What the—? A blue overlay flickered in my vision, like some glitchy VR game. Stats? Quests? This was isekai bullshit. But it felt real, buzzing in my veins like adrenaline on steroids.
Emergency Protocol: Host in Mortal Peril.
Initial Fracture Unlocked.
Fracture: Void Echo (F)
Effect: Absorb force into shadow duplicates.
Cooldown: 30s | Cost: Essence (0/100).
Quest: Survive the Rift.
Reward: Essence Surge + Stats Unlock.
Failure: Soul Shattered.
The lead beast lunged again. Time slowed—or maybe the Core did. I felt it: a shard of crystal pulsing in my chest, glowing faintly under the skin like a trapped star. My hands moved on their own—Thorne's training, my panic. I twisted, letting the chain wrap my arm, and slammed my elbow into the beast's snout as it passed.
Bone crunched. The impact ripped back into me, but the Core drank it. Black tendrils of shadow bled from my pores, forming two hazy duplicates—me, but smoky and feral. They mirrored my stance, fists raised.
Void Echo: Activated.
Essence: -10.
The duplicates struck. One tackled the beast's flank, the other dove for its eyes. Real me? I yanked the chain hard, snapping the link with a surge of borrowed strength. Free.
The crowd gasped. "A shard-touched slave?!"
The beasts roared, confused. One duplicate shattered under a claw swipe—poof, back into shadow—but the second latched on, biting deep. Blood sprayed, hot and metallic. I felt the echo of it in my own muscles, a rush like the best high.
But the third beast was on me. It barreled in, horns lowered. I dodged, but not fast enough—a horn gored my side, tearing flesh. Pain exploded, white-hot. Blood poured, soaking the sand.
Essence: 45/100.
Vitality: Critical.
Recommend: Bond or Consume.
Bond? What the fuck did that mean? The Core whispered again, seductive now: Find a spark, host. Flesh calls to flesh. Or die screaming.
My vision blurred. The beasts closed in, the crowd chanting for the kill. But across the arena, chained to a post near the overseer's dais... her. A woman. Fiery red hair matted with sweat, body scarred and lithe in torn leather. A gladiator, same as me—Thorne's memories screamed: Lira. The fire-witch. Rival. Ally?
She met my eyes. Green fire in hers, defiant. She strained against her chains, muscles flexing. "You... outsider?" she hissed, voice cutting through the din like a blade. How did she know? Could she see it?
The beasts lunged as one.
I didn't think. I moved. Shadow duplicates reformed—three now, fueled by the pain, the desperation. They swarmed the beasts, buying seconds. I sprinted for Lira, the Core thrumming in my chest like a second heart.
Resonance Detected: Lira Voss (Flameweaver).
Sync Chance: 62%.
Initiate Bond?
Hell yes.
I slammed into her post, grabbing the chain. Our hands brushed—skin to skin. Electricity. Her eyes widened. Heat bloomed where we touched, her fire flickering faintly under her skin, answering the shard in mine.
The lead beast roared behind me, inches away.
"Trust me or die!" I growled, yanking her chain free with a burst of shadow strength.
She didn't hesitate. Her hand clamped mine, and the world sang.
Resonance Bond: Initiated.
Dual Fracture: Ember Echo (E).
Essence Surge: +50.
Flames licked up her arm, merging with my shadows into a swirling vortex of fire and dark. The beast hit us—but the bond pushed back. A shockwave of heat and void exploded outward, hurling it ten feet into the sand. It skidded, howling.
Lira's breath was hot on my neck. "You're not Thorne. But gods, you burn like one."
The other beasts charged. My duplicates multiplied—five now, empowered by the bond. They tore into the flanks, shadows burning with her fire. I spun, pulling Lira close. Her body pressed against mine—sweat-slick, taut, alive. For a split second, amid the chaos, it wasn't just survival. It was hunger. The Core purred: More. Deeper.
Quest Progress: 67%.
Essence: 95/100.
We fought back-to-back. Her flames seared a beast's eyes; my shadows choked its throat. The crowd was in uproar—bets flying, Weavers on the dais screaming for archers.
One beast fell, gutted. Another fled into its gate. The last one... I drove a shadow-laced fist into its skull, Lira's fire following through like a brand. It collapsed, twitching.
Silence, then cheers. But the overseer was already pointing. "Kill the abominations!"
Arrows whistled. We dove behind the beast corpse for cover. Lira's hand was still in mine, her pulse syncing with the Core's thrum. "We run now, outsider. Or we die pretty."
I grinned, tasting blood and victory. "Name's Kael. And yeah... we're getting the fuck out."
Quest Complete: Survive the Rift.
Reward: Essence +100.
Stats Unlocked.
Status
Name: Kael Voss
Essence: 195/200
Resonance: 1 (Lira Voss - Flame Bond)
Fractures:
• Void Echo (F)
• Ember Echo (E)
The Core laughed in my head. Good start, host. But the real feast? That's coming. In blood... and beds.
We bolted for the arena tunnels, shadows and flames trailing us like lovers' whispers. The Shatterrealm waited. Empires to topple. Queens to claim.
And the slave? He was dead. I was born.
To be continued...