Kai lays unconscious in an unfamiliar place—cold, bleak, and hollow, as if a storm had ravaged the land and left only silence behind. The air was damp, heavy with ash and stillness. Bones and torn flesh on his body slowly knit themselves back together, each pulse of pain dulling into a distant throb. 

After hours of bone-deep pain, Kai finally stirred. Night had fallen—the kind that smothered the world in silence. The cave around him was bare, cold stone and shadow. Nothing of comfort. Nothing of Kaelyn.

Kai: Kaelyn... are you here?

Only the wind answered.

He rose slowly, limbs still aching. Then it hit him—a strange pull in his chest. This place... it felt known. Not from memory, but something deeper. A sense like stepping into a half-remembered dream.

A sudden realization crashed down on Kai.

"If this is where I think it is... what does that mean?"

Panic twisted in his gut. He bolted toward the cave’s mouth. The night sky greeted him—dark and vast, littered with stars far too large to belong to Earth. From the ledge, Kai leapt toward a tree he thought was within reach.

His body responded—muscles coiling, energy bursting—but the motion felt... weightless. Too easy. He soared past the tree entirely, rising nearly twenty-five feet into the air.

Kai: "What the hell—!"

The awe was brief. Gravity pulled him back hard. Face-first, toward the very tree he meant to land on. In desperation, he tried to summon magic to soften the fall—but nothing came.

Branches cracked beneath his weight. One after another. Then a sickening snap—his arm bent in three unnatural places. The forest, silent until now, rang with the sound.

Kai groaned, teeth clenched. But even as the pain surged, his arm began to mend. Bones twisted and locked back into place, flesh reknitting in real time. In thirty seconds, it was as if the break never happened.

He turned toward the densest part of the forest. Trees packed tight, their roots like a maze. He ran. Not to escape—but to feel.

Each step felt like wind—no, like cutting through it. His feet barely touched the ground, and when they did, it was like the earth recoiled beneath him.

Then he stopped.

A low-hanging boulder jutted out from the side of a hill. Ten feet up, rooted deep into the rock. With no thought, Kai crouched and sprang.

He didn't just reach the boulder. He shattered the edge of it on impact, stone exploding from the force of his landing. Dust and pebbles rained down like ash.

Heart racing, he leapt again—toward a nearby cliff wall.

He ran up the stone like it was solid ground, not even thinking about gravity, until his momentum gave out and he launched himself backward into a backflip. He twisted mid-air and landed—knees bent, balanced, breath sharp.

He stood there, staring at his hands.

"This world gave me more than magic," he murmured.

Kai stood still, breath steady, heart racing from the rush of power.

Then... the faint sound of wings.

He glanced up.

Perched on a twisted branch just above the shattered boulder was a black bird—its feathers slick as ink, eyes like dull silver reflecting the moonlight. It tilted its head once. Then again. Watching him.

A crow.

No, larger. Heavier. Its gaze didn’t feel curious. It felt knowing.

Kai stared back.

"What are you looking at..." he muttered.

The bird gave no cry. No flutter. It just sat there—silent. Present.

He took a step toward it, but before he could get close, the bird took flight. No panic. Just one long sweep of its wings, sailing into the shadows between the trees.

Kai watched it disappear, unease settling deep in his chest.

" A Corvus?," he whispered. 

...

After a few hours of wandering, Kai finally realized where he was. Somehow, after the battle with that dungeon beast, he’d been sent back to his original universe. He didn’t know how—there was no ancient spell, no glowing magic circle—just the impossible. Still, he was grateful. Now, with power and clarity, he could finally carry out the revenge he had dreamed of—without fear, and with precision.

...

Kai sat perched on a crooked branch, still as the night around him. The wind moved, but he didn’t. His eyes burned—not with grief, not with sorrow, but with something older. Something primal. Fury carved into silence. Vengeance that had waited too long. They weren’t the eyes of a man anymore—they were the eyes of a creature that had nothing left to lose. A predator bred by pain.

Kai (low, steady): I have to save my sister... and everyone else on that plantation.

His voice didn’t shake. But the tree beneath him did, groaning under the weight of what he had become.

Looking back, Kai realized he never truly had a joyful memory—not one untouched by hunger, fear, or silence. The people around him weren’t cruel, but they weren’t kind either. They were tired. Tired in a way that sleep couldn't fix. In that kind of world, no one had the luxury of hate because hate required passion—and they had none left. They were just surviving, dragging themselves through each day like shadows clinging to a life they didn’t ask for.

There were no smiles, not real ones. No bedtime stories or gentle touches. And no one ever told a child it would get better, because they knew it wouldn’t. Pretending would’ve been worse—raising a child on hollow hope just to watch that hope be crushed under the weight of reality.

To tell a child they can be anything is a lie when the world won’t let them be anything but broken. That kind of lie doesn’t protect. It poisons. And in that place, Kai learned early that false hope was sharper than any blade—it carved away at your soul one empty promise at a time.

So no, he didn’t remember laughter. He remembered silence. He remembered cold. He remembered people who spoke only when they had to, because words were a burden. He remembered watching dreams die quietly in people’s eyes—and learning not to ask why.

...

Kai moved like a shadow, leaping from tree to tree, his body tuned for war. Each stride was faster than the last—muscles sharp, breath steady, eyes locked ahead. This was the place where everything had unraveled. Where rage first took root in his chest. And now, he had returned.

The forest gave way to a familiar clearing. There, at the edge, the two guards he’d killed still lay slumped against the ground. Untouched. Their bodies had stiffened, but no one had moved them. Not a single footprint disturbed the soil around them.

Strange.

Either no one knew... or no one cared.

Dawn was crawling over the horizon, bleeding light across the mist-covered fields. Kai crouched low in the tall grass, eyes scanning the plantation grounds. It wasn't vast—just a few acres of rice paddies and dry fields—but it was ordered. Too clean. The kind of place that masked cruelty under the illusion of control. 

Traditional hanok houses lined the inner courtyard, their curved tiled roofs catching the faint morning glow. There was music playing. People gathered outside the main home, talking, laughing. A small celebration was underway. Women in bright, flowing dresses moved around the courtyard, their voices soft and light. It almost looked peaceful.

But Kai kept his distance.

It wasn’t fear—just a feeling. Like something wasn’t adding up. The timing, the quiet, the way no one had noticed the missing guards.

He watched carefully, trying to make sense of it all.

...

Whatever they were celebrating, Kai wasn’t impressed. He watched them with steady eyes, unmoved. The music, the dancing, the fake joy—it meant nothing to him.

He didn’t come here to be afraid. He didn’t come here to hesitate.

He came to end it.

"Before high noon," he muttered, eyes locked on the main house,

"everyone here will have bled."

He stepped down from the tree, silent as the wind, and walked toward the place that once broke him—ready to return the favor.

Even Kai knew he couldn’t just walk in and start a massacre—not yet. He needed to find his sister first. That came before anything else.

Revenge could wait. She couldn’t. 

...

Kai moved behind the servant quarters, eyes sharp, breath steady. Of all the places on the plantation, this one made the most sense to check first. If they kept her anywhere, it’d be here—out of sight, but close enough to work.

He stepped carefully around a corner, passing a stack of old firewood when—

Thud.

A wooden bucket toppled over and rolled into his path.

He froze. A soft curse followed.

A figure stood up behind the pile, brushing straw out of her hair. She turned—and their eyes met.

Jin: "...No way."

Kai: "Seriously?"

Jin: "I trip over a bucket and find you?"

Kai: "First place I checked. Lucky, huh?"

She squinted. "Or maybe I’m just that easy to find."

Kai: "More like loud."

She rolled her eyes, but he caught the relief behind it.

Jin: "You okay?"

Kai: "Better now."

She stepped out, still clutching a broom like a weapon.

Jin: "You didn’t come alone, did you?"

Kai: "Just me."

Jin: "Of course. You always did think you were enough."

Kai: "Aren’t I?"

She snorted, tossed the broom aside, and nodded toward the path.

Jin: "Alright then, hero. Lead the way."

They moved fast, weaving through the narrow gaps between buildings until the plantation was behind them. Jin didn’t ask questions—not yet. She knew that look in Kai’s eyes. Focused. Heavy.

They crossed the fields and disappeared into the tree line, deeper into the woods where no patrols ever bothered to go. A small clearing opened up near an old creek bed. Moss-covered stones, a few broken logs—quiet, hidden, safe.

Kai stopped and turned to her.

Kai: "Stay here. Don’t move until I come back."

Jin: "You’re going back?"

Kai: "I have to."

She didn’t argue. Just looked at him for a long moment.

Jin: "Don’t die doing something stupid."

He gave the faintest smirk. "I’ll try."

He handed her a short blade—light, worn, but sharp.

Then he was gone, slipping through the woods like a shadow returning to the fire. His pace quickened with every step, the weight of unfinished business settling back on his shoulders.

Whatever was waiting for him at that plantation, it wouldn’t be standing for long.