The slight beam of sunlight hit Kaiser's face, slowly waking him up. He was surrounded by chilly, crisp air that smelled of earth and pine, as if he had been dropped into the middle of a forest. His body ached in ways he had never experienced before as he slowly sat up. Beneath him, the cold stone of the shrine pressed against his torn uniform, reminding him of his last battle.

  Behind him stood an ancient altar, its surface carved with intricate sigils that seemed to pulse faintly, as if alive with an energy Kaiser couldn’t comprehend. The markings were unfamiliar, their geometry and symbols alien to anything he had ever studied in his homeland. He ran his fingers over the carvings, his blood-red eyes narrowing and the pulse they were releasing.

  “Where am I?” he muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse. Like a chilly shadow, the truth set in: neither his kingdom nor even the enemy empire had these insignia. It was a long way from home, wherever he was now.

  Bits of memory surfaced. The Throne Room. The mocking expression of Sabel Stoorm. The agonizing sensation of his body turning to rust. His desperation, his rage—and then, nothing.

  He clenched his fists, his body trembling with frustration. “I blacked out,” he whispered. “He stabbed me... again and again...” His voice grew louder. “And now I wake up here?” Kaiser touched where the wounds on his body were recently present, before he clutched his fist slowly.

  In a fit of anger, he drove his fists into the stone platform beneath him with all the strength he could muster. It was supposed to split the entire earth and send tremors rippling outwards in a grand display of his power, but only a dull thud echoed around the?temple. The stone cracked, and?the earth beneath it stirred — but just a little.

  Kaiser stared at his hands in disbelief. His breathing quickened, his mind racing. “No...” he murmured. He punched the ground again, somehow even harder this time, but the result was the same.

  Kaiser stared, confused,?at his hands. His breathing grew rapid, his?thoughts swirling. "No..." he muttered. He struck the?ground again, this time harder but still: sad, weak, pointless. "What is this?" he snarled. "Where's my strength?" His voice echoed among the empty woods, unheard.

  Unsteady, as though his legs weren't used to carrying him, he stumbled to his feet. He hurled a punch at the air in front of him, expecting the sheer force to rip through the atmosphere, but instead his actions felt slow, and frustration went to panic. He no longer possessed the power that had previously made him who he was.

  Kaiser felt a rush of panic in his chest for the first time in years. "What... happened?" he muttered to himself, barely audible.

  Then, something unexpected occurred. As his panic intensified, a faint shiver spread down his fingertips. He looked down, his black hair falling into his face, and saw frost beginning to form at the tips of his fingers.

  “What...?” He held his hand out, watching in stunned silence as delicate tendrils of ice spiraled outward, freezing the grass at his feet into a solid sheet. Beautiful and lethal, the frost spread in uneven lines across the ground as it sparkled in the sunlight.

  Kaiser's mouth dropped open in surprise. In contrast to the tremendous strength he once possessed, this power was foreign to him. Like his surroundings, it was cold, wild, and raw.

  His eyes narrowed as he clenched his fists, staring at the frost-covered grass. “This... this isn’t mine,” he said, his voice low. “But it’s something.”

  He raised his hand again, watching as the frost responded to his will, curling up his arm in delicate patterns. It wasn’t the strength he was used to, but it was power nonetheless. The frost clinging to the grass around him began to melt as soon as the morning sun warmed the shrine. With the crisp, salty air filling his lungs, he inhaled deeply and absorbed his surroundings.

  The ancient sigils etched into the shrines surface pulsed once again, and he couldn’t help but feel they were watching him, judging him, seeing his every action. The marks that covered the stone surrounding the shrine, however, were more remarkable. The once-immaculate surface was scarred by deep, jagged rust gouges.

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  Kaiser knelt to inspect them, stroking the rusty scars with his palm. There was no mistaking the pattern—Sabel's work. Sabel's final desperate attempts to kill him were depicted by the rust, the sharp edges, and the desperation in every stroke. “Guess you couldn’t do it, huh?” Kaiser muttered, his voice tinged with pure satisfaction.

  He stood, clenching his fists. For a moment, the realization hit him like cold water: he had somehow become immune to Sabel’s rusted curse, the power that had nearly ended him twice before. But doubt clawed at the back of his mind. Was he really immune? Or was there another factor at work?

  To test himself, he made a decision. He reached for his left hand, spread open his fingers and gripped his index finger tightly. Without hesitation, he snapped it backward with a sickening crack.

  No reaction.

  No sharp intake of breath. No flash of pain. He stared at his broken finger, oddly detached, watching as the bone began to knit itself back together.

  It was slower than before. Much slower.

  Kaiser frowned, a mix of relief and unease washing over him. He flexed his hand as the finger rigidly restored its shape and whispered to himself, "Still regenerating." He continued "How come it's taking so long?"

  The notion persisted, proving that he was no longer unbeatable. It had cost him something, whatever this new power was, whatever had occurred to him.

  Shaking the thought from his mind, Kaiser turned his attention outward. He stepped off the shrine, taking in the world around him.

  The sea extended eternally to his back, its waves glittering in the sunlight. He hadn't heard the steady thump of water against far-off rocks in years. If he had to be honest, not since the start of the war. It seemed oddly soothing and slightly bizarre to him.

  The forest extended as far as the eye could see in front of him. With their dark green needles gently swinging in the breeze, tall pine trees reached for the sky. In sharp contrast to the blood and rust he had become used to, the air was heavy with the smell of pine and earth.

  Kaiser stepped forward, the ice cracking faintly beneath his boots. His eyes swept the landscape—the dense pines ahead, the distant roar of the sea at his back. The pieces clicked into place. He’d studied enough maps to recognize this place, though it felt alien now.

  “The only place that has this kind of geography is the western border,” he said aloud, his voice steady. “If I’m anywhere I know, then I’m at as far west as one could go.”

  The realization brought a wave of emotions. Relief, at the thought of being close to familiar lands, and at the same time frustration, at the miles of unknown territory he had to traverse, but lastly determination, a burning resolve to make it back to the capital.

  His red eyes narrowed as he set his sights towards the forest. “If I’m anywhere close, the capital should be that way.” He flexed his fingers again, testing his grip. “But first... I need to figure out what the hell happened to me.”

  Kaiser took one last glance at the shrine, the rusted marks, and the sea behind him. Then, without another word, he started walking away.

  Kaiser stepped into the forest, the air cooler and denser beneath the thick canopy of trees. At first, it seemed ordinary enough—tall pines with their dark green needles swayed gently in the wind, the ground littered with fallen leaves and twigs. There was a slow tempo of his steady march forward, and the only sound accompanying him was the periodic crunch of his boots.

  However, the woodland started to change the farther he went.

  The trees' height increased, their trunks darkened, and their bark twisted as though they were writhing in agony. White threads of cobweb hung here and there like ornaments left over from some gloomy celebration. In the dim light coming through the canopy, they glistened dimly. They were scant at first, draped across the rare bush or clinging to the low branches.

  Kaiser noticed them, of course. How could he not? Yet, he pressed on, brushing away the sticky strands as they caught on his torn uniform or clung to his hair. An increasing uneasiness chewed at the corners of his thoughts.

  "This feels wrong," he whispered to himself in a steady voice. Something was terribly wrong, and it didn’t take an expert to see that.

  He stopped and glanced around. The air was unnervingly quiet—no birds, no distant rustling of small animals. Just the oppressive silence and the faint whisper of the wind. Out of pure instinct his fingers brushed against the hilt of a sword that wasn’t there, and Kaiser hated that he had no weapon to defend himself with at the moment.

  The cobwebs grew larger as he went deeper. The branches were soon covered in thick, silky layers, and they soon took over the landscape. The once-vibrant forest was now a supernatural graveyard of white and grey, with the trees completely covered in webbing instead of green needles.

  Kaiser paused again, his crimson eyes narrowing as he surveyed his surroundings. He reached out to touch one of the webs, his fingers tracing its sticky surface. It was thicker than any spider silk he’d encountered, unnaturally strong. He pulled his hand back, his fingertips coated in a strange residue that left a tingling sensation.