Chapter 3: A World That Doesn’t Want Him

The ruins of an ancient outpost rose from the mist like the bones of a long-dead beast. Moss-covered stones, broken archways, and collapsed towers dotted the hillside. It had once been a stronghold of magic—Kael could feel the leftover energy pulsing faintly in the air like an echo.

The stranger, who had finally introduced himself as Thorne, led Kael through the wreckage in silence. They had left the Leystone Circle behind, evading more mana-beasts as the night deepened. Now, dawn approached—though in Arcanis, even the sun seemed strange. It rose in hues of silver and blue, casting ghostly light over the landscape.

As they passed a broken statue of a robed warrior, Thorne finally spoke.

“This place was a sanctuary. A neutral zone during the early days of the war.”

Kael glanced around. “Doesn’t look like it helped.”

“It didn’t,” Thorne replied. “Magic makes people ambitious. And ambition burns everything it touches.”

Kael nodded silently. He knew that truth too well. In his world, ambition had built empires—and destroyed them. It had turned heroes into tyrants. Himself included.

They reached a small clearing where a group of travelers had set up camp—young, rough-looking, and clearly on edge. A few wore mage cloaks, others had scavenged armor. They were outcasts, deserters, and runaways. Survivors.

The moment Kael stepped into the open, all eyes turned to him.

Weapons were drawn.

A spear tip pointed directly at his chest. “Who the hell is that?” a young woman barked. Her hair was braided with runes, and her hands glowed faintly with defensive magic.

Kael didn’t flinch. “I don’t want trouble.”

“You are trouble,” another voice growled. A burly man stepped forward, a jagged scar across his face. “That armor. It’s not Arcane. Not Darkveil. It’s something else.”

“He’s not from here,” Thorne said simply. “He’s a Riftborn.”

The group tensed. Several muttered under their breath.

Kael’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like the word. Riftborn—a label that made him sound like a mistake.

“He saved me from a mana-beast,” Thorne added.

“He probably attracted it,” the woman snapped. “Foreign mana corrupts the balance. That’s what the legends say. People like him bring the Hollow Realms with them.”

Kael stepped forward slowly. “I didn’t ask to come here. But I’m not your enemy.”

“You’re not one of us, either,” the man with the scar said, crossing his arms. “And that makes you dangerous.”

Kael’s eyes flared beneath his helmet. “If I wanted to be dangerous, this camp would be ash already.”

The silence that followed was heavy.

Kael turned and started walking toward the edge of the camp. “Forget it. I don’t need your acceptance.”

“Then where will you go?” Thorne called after him.

Kael paused, looking out over the misty plains below. “Anywhere I want. I don’t belong to either side of your war. Maybe it’s time this world had a third option.”

Behind him, whispers broke out among the group.

Thorne watched him go, his expression unreadable.

Kael wandered until the sun was high, the landscape shifting from ruins to rocky cliffs and glowing ravines. His thoughts were a storm—memories of betrayal, the fall of his homeworld, the moment his allies turned on him. He had given everything for peace. And when that failed, he became the very thing they feared.

He didn’t care about alliances anymore. He cared about power. Control. Survival.

And in Arcanis, power was everywhere—raw, wild, and waiting to be claimed.

As he reached the top of a ridge, Kael spotted something in the valley below: a battleground. Bodies of both Arcane mages and Darkveil soldiers lay strewn across scorched earth. No victors. Only ruin.

Kael climbed down, walking through the aftermath. The air was thick with leftover magic—unstable and dangerous. He felt his Rider Core hum again, feeding on the energy.

Then he saw it—an Arcane soldier, barely alive, crawling toward a shattered staff.

Kael approached. The man looked up, eyes wide with terror. “P-please…”

But Kael just stared.

This man would’ve killed him on sight, like the others. To them, he was a threat. A curse. Something unnatural.

Kael stepped past him without a word.

He wasn’t here to save anyone.

He was here to build something of his own.

Something stronger than both sides.

Something unstoppable.