The vortex was not a portal; it was a mouth, a swirling storm of pure cosmic energy. The voice that issued from it was a roar and a whisper all at once a torrent of information and cold, ancient will that transcended mere sound. Kael stared into its depths, his mind a whirlwind of furious calculations.
He had two choices: flee and be hunted by a regressor who could edit reality itself, a man who had already proven his superior cunning. Or step forward, into the roaring abyss, and claim the variable he had just summoned. In his last life, Kael had hesitated, and that hesitation had cost him his life.
He didn't hesitate this time. With a cold, quiet resolve that surprised even himself, Kael took a single step forward, not with faith but with the grim determination of a man who had nothing left to lose. The vortex swallowed him whole.
The transition was a violent reassembly. His body was ripped apart and stitched back together by an incomprehensible force. He felt his bones liquify, his organs unravel, his very atoms screaming as they were rearranged. The roar of the vortex became a silent torrent of data. He saw not with his eyes, but with his mind glimpses of distant stars, the rise and fall of ancient civilisations, the echoes of impossible powers. The "Keybearer" was not just a compass; it was a fragment of a forgotten consciousness, a guide for something far older than cultivation.
He landed on a surface that felt like solid starlight, the air thin, the sky a shifting canvas of deep violet and shimmering nebulae. He was on a small, spherical island floating in a perfect void. In the centre of the island stood a single monument: a massive obelisk of pure black obsidian, pulsing with a faint, crimson light. On its face, not runes, but a series of holographic projections, a celestial library of information.
The Keybearer's voice, now a gentle presence in his mind, explained the truth.
"This is a Vestige Realm, Keybearer. A waiting room for the newly summoned. You are a Player in the Game of Kings."
The Game of Kings. It was not a game of strategy or a physical contest. It was a cosmic war for dominion, a conflict waged by "Players" beings with unique powers and abilities to become the ultimate "King." The "Dimensional Compass" was the Keybearer of this game, a relic that could summon the strongest, most ruthless beings from across timelines and dimensions. His regression was not an accident; it was a consequence of a ripple he had unknowingly caused in his past life, a flicker of karmic interest that had drawn the Keybearer to him.
Kael's mind went to Julian. If he were a Player, what was Julian? He touched the obsidian monument. A new torrent of data flooded his mind. Julian wasn't just a "Rewriter." He was an Early Player, a Prince who had been playing for centuries, his timeline-editing power a unique ability granted by the game itself. The Patriarch and other clan elders weren't just pawns; they were also "Overseers," lesser players who managed the game board, guiding and testing the new arrivals.
Julian's subtle lies and misdirections had not just been to gain a local advantage. They were to prevent Kael from ever discovering the true nature of their reality, to keep him as a simple pawn in a much larger, and much more deadly, game. The realisation hit Kael like a physical blow: he had been a puppet for his entire life, and Julian had been pulling the strings even before this life began.
The last projection on the obelisk flared to life, a stark, red warning.
[Trial Protocol: Initiate]
[First Player has been summoned. All active Players and Overseers have been notified of your presence.]
[Objective: Surrender to the Hunt, or become a King.]
Kael looked down at the Dimensional Compass in his palm. It was no longer a useless rock or a simple key, but a brand. And the light that now pulsed from it was not for him alone, but a beacon in the cosmos. He had just declared his presence to an entire universe of ruthless beings.
The ground of the Vestige Realm began to tremble. In the distance, a massive, swirling portal began to form, not of chaotic purple and black, but of blinding, cold white. The first Hunter had arrived.