Darkness.
It was the first thing he felt.
Not fear, not pain—just an endless, all-consuming darkness, as though he were floating in a void between dreams and death.
Then came the heat.
A slow burn in his chest, like molten gold seeping into his lungs, spreading through his limbs, etching something ancient and powerful into the marrow of his bones. His body convulsed, breath he didn't know he could take suddenly forced its way out of his throat in a gasp.
Then—he woke.
The world burst into color and sound. Shouts. Iron clanging. Horses neighing. The pungent stench of blood and smoke. He was lying on the muddy ground, his fingers half-buried in gravel. His heart thundered in his ears like war drums.
"Where... where am I?"
Karan sat up.
But something was wrong.
His hands—they were not his. Paler, thinner, calloused from sword training. The body he now inhabited was lean, starved even, and the weight of the worn leather armor felt unfamiliar, yet familiar enough to unsettle him. His heart raced as memories not his own flooded into his mind—flashes of a harsh upbringing, a stone-faced instructor, bruises, punishments, and above all, insignificance.
"No way..." he murmured, staring at the cracked silver gauntlet on his right arm. Its symbol—a broken spear beneath a crescent moon—twisted his stomach into knots. He knew that symbol. He had seen it a hundred times.
In a book.
A fantasy novel.
The very one he'd finished just last night.
He froze.
"Impossible..."
He looked around. They were at the training grounds of the Ashen Valor Academy, the elite institution where the novel's main characters first met. In the distance, a tall white tower loomed—the central spire of the academy, shaped like a spear thrust into the heavens.
"I've been... reincarnated?"
He remembered falling asleep at his desk after reading the final chapter. His room had been cluttered with notebooks, fan theories, and pages of lore he'd analyzed for months.
But now, he was in that world. Not as the hero. Not as the powerful villain. Not even as one of the supporting cast.
His name surfaced in a whisper, not from memory, but from instinct.
> "Kael."
The name cut like a blade.
Karan had read that name once in passing—a side character who had appeared briefly in Volume One and died unceremoniously in a monster subjugation mission. Barely three paragraphs. No backstory. No redemption.
Just another corpse in the background of the chosen hero's journey.
"I'm Kael...?"
He stood shakily, brushing mud from his chestplate. Around him, trainees continued their sparring. None spared him a glance. He was invisible. And it made sense—Kael was always in the background. A failure. The kind of character readers forget by the next page.
But Karan—Kael now—wasn't going to follow that fate.
Because he had knowledge no one else did.
Because something was inside him.
A warmth began building in his chest again. But this time, it wasn't foreign. It was familiar, like a sleeping lion stirred by his will. The world seemed to pause. A voice—deep, thunderous, ancient—spoke from within his soul.
> "He who bears the fire of Surya... awaken."
Kael staggered, clutching his chest.
Golden light flared from within, unseen by others, but illuminating his mind with searing clarity. Symbols danced before his eyes. Sanskrit verses, old and divine. The outlines of a bow, a radiant chariot, and a golden shield flashed for a heartbeat before settling into place.
> [Surya Putra Karn System Activated]
Legacy Host: Kael Varian
Bloodline Compatibility: 87%
Initial Skill Unlocked: Radiant Resilience (Lv. 1)
Trait Unlocked: Divine Heritage: Son of the Sun
Fate Divergence Detected. Timeline shifting...
His breath hitched.
He knew exactly what this meant. Karna—Surya Putra, the unsung hero of Mahabharata—was a legend of indomitable will, cursed fate, and unmatched strength. Karan had admired him since childhood, and now... somehow, impossibly, that legacy lived within him.
A system. Like a game. Like a chosen one's blessing—but meant for a forgotten side character.
His heart swelled with both awe and confusion.
"Why me?"
The answer, however, didn't matter now.
Because he had power, however faint. And knowledge. He knew how this world worked. He knew the timeline. He knew where the monsters would rise, where the empires would fall, and where the chosen hero—Lucien Drel—would ascend.
But now, with this system… maybe Kael wouldn't be forgotten. Maybe he could forge his own legend.
"Kael!"
The shout ripped through his thoughts. A burly instructor stormed toward him, red-faced and furious.
"You think you can nap while the others train? Sword up! Or I'll have you polishing chamber pots 'til dawn!"
Kael nodded stiffly, grabbing the wooden practice sword beside him. His muscles ached, but the warm pulse of the system inside him gave him a steadiness he'd never known before.
He stepped into the sparring circle. His opponent was a tall girl with cold eyes—Elyra Marten, a mid-tier support character in the novel who would one day become a high-ranking battle mage. She was strong even now.
The onlookers chuckled. Kael was a known weakling here. They expected him to lose.
But today wasn't like yesterday.
Today, Kael had Surya's flame.
"Begin!"
Elyra moved first, her footwork perfect, her blade coming in at a downward arc. Kael barely raised his sword in time, the shock of impact jolting up his arm.
> Radiant Resilience (Lv. 1) Activated
Incoming strike resistance: +20%
Fatigue reduction engaged.
He grinned.
He blocked again. And again. Then, countered—clumsily, but fast enough to force her to backpedal.
Her eyes narrowed. "You're not as weak as you used to be."
"People change," Kael said quietly, adjusting his stance.
The match ended in a draw—a miracle, by academy standards. The crowd murmured, some impressed, others annoyed their entertainment had been ruined. But Kael didn't care.
He'd survived.
He'd changed fate.
That night, Kael sat alone under the moonlight near the edge of the training grounds, where the forest touched the walls. He opened his palm and saw the faint golden glow flickering under his skin, fading slowly.
"A side character, huh?"
He looked up at the stars.
"Let's see how far I can rewrite the script."
In the shadows, unseen by him, something stirred. A pair of silver eyes opened in the dark, watching him, calculating.
Fate was no longer on rails.