Kael jolted awake with a gasp, like surfacing from deep water. His heart thundered in his chest.
Not again.
He blinked hard, but the nightmare hadn't ended. The ache in his ribs was still there. The scent of blood and smoke still hung heavy in the air. The rough canvas overhead swayed with the soldiers and wounded ones moving around.
This wasn't a dream.
He looked down at his hands, larger than he remembered, the skin roughened with calluses, the knuckles slightly scarred. These hands felt foreign, yet obeyed him like they always had—as if they'd always belonged to him.
A cold dread crawled up his spine.
This was real.
They were calling him Prince Kael or something, but that wasn't his name. He knew it wasn't. His name—his real name—what was it? He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to grasp it, but his thoughts slid through like water. Nothing came.
All he could remember was that cursed warehouse after that game. The shouting. The cold steel of a gun pressed to his head and the thugs yelling over each other as they beat him senseless.
Now he was here, in a stranger's body, in a world filled with monsters and magic, being called royalty.
There were monsters that looked torn from nightmares, glowing cards that hovered in front of him, soldiers who had saluted with fear in their eyes, and a spectral knight with a sword that should not have existed.
He was in someone else's life.
Panic surged. He gripped the blanket like it might anchor him, but it didn't. Nothing did.
He was still here.
Around him, the low hum of voices stirred.
"He's awake..."
A figure in a worn medical tunic pushed through the tent flap, breathless and disheveled, with a satchel clinking softly at his side. He was younger than the others, his face drawn with fatigue, yet his eyes lit up the moment he saw Kael upright.
"Oh, thank the stars. You're awake, Your Highness," he said quickly, nearly tripping over the blanket as he crossed the space. "You've been unconscious for two days since the breach. We weren't sure you'd wake up. I'm... well, I'm the assigned field medic, though I apologize they had to camp you here with the rest of the wounded. Your original tent was destroyed during the attack."
Kael said nothing, dazed. He looked around slowly.
In the corners of the tent, wounded soldiers lay on rough bedding, many wrapped in heavy bandages. Some were missing limbs. Others stared blankly at the ceiling, lips moving in silence. Others looked outside with that hollow look in their eyes. He remembered his brother Mike had the same look after being sent back from war.
He clenched the blanket again.
The medic knelt beside him without further hesitation, already pulling aside the blanket with practiced efficiency. His fingers prodded carefully along Kael's ribs, tracing around the bandages.
"Incredible... that should still be open," the young man murmured, peeling back a bit of gauze and blinking in disbelief. "Two days, and it's already sealed over."
He looked over his shoulder sharply. "Someone go inform Captain Ryze—now. Tell her His Highness is awake."
One of the nearby soldiers jumped up and rushed out of the tent.
"Who's Ryze?" Kael asked, voice low.
The medic blinked, confused by the question, and then his expression shifted to concern. "Oh no," he murmured. "Can you remember anything, Your Highness?"
"I… I don't remember anything. Where am I?"
The medic's mouth opened, but no words came. He stared at Kael, stunned into silence, the lines of exhaustion around his face deepening as he struggled to process what he'd just heard. Finally, with a quiet exhale, he seemed to remember himself.
The flap shifted and a woman stepped through.
She was tall, strikingly beautiful, with cropped dark hair and sharp eyes that scanned Kael like a puzzle to be solved. She wore armor lighter than the others, with a strange emblem stitched near her collar.
"You're awake, Your Highness," she said with a bow. Her voice was smooth, calm, but Kael heard the careful control underneath it.
"Yeah," he replied hoarsely.
She stepped closer, her expression unreadable. "Can you remember what happened? What is that monster who protected you?"
Kael forced a neutral look, masking the panic swirling underneath.
The medic, still lingering nearby and apparently unsure whether to stay silent or not, stepped in with a hesitant voice. "His Highness doesn't seem to recall anything, Captain. No memory of who he is, or of the breach itself, but physically, his wounds are closing far faster than they should."
The words hung in the air a moment, drawing quiet, unsettled looks from the surrounding soldiers.
One of the soldiers spoke quickly, trying to make sense of it. "Must be that concussion he got during the first attack. I saw him get thrown down when that monster smashed his head. Fritz went to wake him." He pointed across the tent toward a soldier sitting near the far side.
Kael followed the gesture and blinked. He remembered that face, even with bandages wrapped most of his chest and arms, and one leg elevated awkwardly. The man grinned wider when he noticed Kael looking.
Fritz raised a hand in a slow, shaky wave. "Told 'em you'd wake up. Said royalty doesn't die easy, right?"
Kael's brow furrowed. He vaguely remembered Fritz leaning over him, trying to rouse him amid the chaos.
Fritz let out a wheezy chuckle. "You were lookin' real confused, that's for sure. Kept mumbling somethin'. I figured maybe he got rattled too hard in the head, y'know?"
Ryze stepped closer to his bed, her sharp gaze now edged with concern. "Do you remember anything at all?" she asked.
Kael shook his head.
Inside the tent, the atmosphere shifted sharply. Soldiers began mumbling over one another, their voices rising in alarm.
"He lost his memories?!"
"Is he still fit to lead?"
Ryze raised her hand sharply. "Silence!"
The noise dwindled. Her eyes were on Kael, but her voice was for everyone.
"His name is Kael Aleric Velimont, third prince of the royal family Velimont, of the Kingdom of Aphdel."
Kael's throat went dry as he looked around at the anxious faces, their tension sharp in the smoke-scented air.
She turned back to him. "Does that sound familiar to you?"
Kael shook his head once, the motion slower this time, as the name settled in the air. He didn't know this name. He didn't know this kingdom. But everyone else did—and they needed him to be that man. Third prince. Royal blood. Whatever body he now inhabited wasn't just important, it was untouchable. He realized then that admitting the truth, that he wasn't this Kael, could cost him more than confusion. In a world like this, where people were executed for less than heresy, playing the role might be the only way to survive.
She drew in a breath and looked at him closely, as if weighing something. "You forgot your name," she said, her voice low, "but you fought like someone who knew exactly what he was doing."
Kael managed a faint smirk, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. His voice came out more cautious this time. "Maybe I'm just... naturally good at it?" The words felt flimsy, almost too light for the weight of the moment, but it was all he had. Anything to keep the truth tucked away, for now.
She paused at the tent flap, her hand resting lightly on the worn canvas. "My name is Captain Ryze," she said, glancing back over her shoulder. "I was assigned to your personal guard."
Kael blinked slowly, uncertain whether the name sounded familiar or simply fit the tone of the world he was now trapped in. Ryze was stern, commanding, observant. Even if this body had trusted her once, he couldn't.
"I'll bring a healer," she said, already moving toward the tent's exit.
Before she could leave, Kael asked, "What are they going to do?"
She shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know. Crack open your skull and see what's left?"
He glanced at the rusted metal tools lying on a nearby tray and the warped lantern hanging crookedly from the tent pole. Whatever passed for medicine here didn't inspire confidence.
He lifted a hand vaguely in the medic's direction. "We already have a healer," he said.
Ryze shook her head. "We need more than bandages. Someone who can read magical anomalies. Maybe a witch."
Kael stared at her, blinking. A witch? What was this world? That word didn't sit right. Not with what he knew about medieval justice systems and their enthusiasm for burning things that didn't behave.
Still, he pressed on. "Are we... safe now?"
Ryze didn't look back as she parted the tent flap. "For now."
"What happened to the monsters?" he asked, his voice rough.
Ryze blinked once, then tilted her head. "Monsters? You mean... the magical beasts?"
Kael hesitated. "Uh... yeah. Magical beasts."
She studied him a moment longer, then gave a short nod, like filing the odd choice of words away for later.
"Most of them were killed or driven off," she said. "The knight, whatever it was, cleared half the field but there's talk of more breaches. Bigger ones."
Then, as she pushed open the flap again, she added over her shoulder, "Try to remember who you really are, Your Highness. I'll be back as soon as I can."
The tent quieted. For a moment, Kael lay still, turning over what she'd called them—magical beasts. The term felt ridiculous. Monsters made more sense. Monsters killed you. Magical beasts sounded like something you fed sugar cubes to.
He let out a slow breath, watching as the others in the tent quietly began to move away. Whatever warmth or curiosity had existed before seemed to dissipate the moment Ryze stepped out. A few soldiers avoided even glancing in his direction. The medic lingered a little longer, packing up supplies without meeting his eyes.
This body he inhabited didn't command friendship. It inspired caution, or maybe even fear.
Ryze unsettled him, yes. But so did the heavy silence she left behind.
Then he saw it.
A new card hovered at the edge of his vision. It was red-tinted and glowing faintly. As he stared, it pulsed once, like it sensed him watching.
The 5 of Flowers.
A strange pull stirred in his chest, matching the rhythm of his heartbeat. It didn't just shimmer. It called to him. Kael reached toward it slowly, breath caught. The moment his fingers brushed the air near it, the card brightened—warmer, closer, almost familiar.
He snatched his hand back.
Beneath the cards, the golden coin shimmered like a waiting eye. A number flickered beside the glowing stack: [0%]
No one else seemed to notice.
Outside, the mood was uneasy. Kael heard the soldiers murmuring beyond the tent walls.
Then—
A horn blared.
Screams followed.
Kael threw off the blanket and pushed to his feet, half-expecting the kind of pain that would knock him back into unconsciousness. But the agony he braced for didn't come. There was only a dull ache in his shoulder where the arrow had struck, not sharp or searing, just muted.
Two nearby soldiers rushed toward him, alarmed by the sudden motion.
"Your Highness, please... you're still too weak," one said urgently.
"I'm fine. I need to see what's going on out there."
The soldiers exchanged looks, clearly impressed despite themselves. The two of them stepped aside without another word.
The sky outside was stained with smoke, the sun dimmed to a sickly haze. Soldiers scrambled across the encampment, barking orders and dragging weapons. Someone ran past him with a bleeding arm. Another stumbled while hauling a wounded man by the shoulders.
The earth trembled under Kael's feet.
And in the distance, emerging through the haze and silhouettes, shadows grew. Towering shapes. Roars split the air again deeper, heavier, almost guttural.
Kael's stomach dropped, a sinking certainty clawing at his chest.
"Not again," he whispered, the words scraping out before he could stop them.
The smoke parted, just enough for him to see one of the shadows fully. It moved on too many legs. And it had no face.
The 5 of Flowers flickered in response, a pulse echoing through his bones.
[System Cooldown: Awaiting trigger]