The city smelled different now. Not the familiar scent of wealth, food, and fine oils but desperation, grime, and the faint tang of fear. Kael walked among the common folk, unnoticed, a ghost in his own city.
He had no money, no allies, no weapons nothing but his knowledge and his instincts. And knowledge alone wasn't enough; he needed tools.
His first priority: survive the night.
Kael slipped through dark alleys, listening, observing. He noticed small things a merchant leaving a back door unlocked, a guard arguing with another over a stolen purse, a pack of feral dogs fighting over scraps. Every detail mattered. Every weakness was exploitable.
He paused at the edge of a derelict market square. There. A small gang of bandits, no more than five, were trying to corner a lone hunter. The man's armor was battered, his sword dull, and he clearly didn't expect reinforcements.
Kael's mind raced. He could walk away stay hidden and safe but that wasn't survival. Not anymore. Survival required opportunity, initiative… and information.
Within moments, Kael had analyzed the terrain: a broken fountain, barrels, a stack of crates, and a narrow alley behind the bandits. He could strike from the shadows, use the crates as cover, and ensure none of them escaped.
Minutes later, the fight erupted. Kael's younger body moved like a phantom. He didn't rely on strength; he relied on precision. One strike to the knee, a sweep to the ankle, a throw that sent a bandit crashing into a barrel. Within moments, it was over.
The lone hunter, wide eyed, looked at Kael. "Who… are you?"
Kael straightened, brushing dust from his tunic. "Someone who's been underestimated for twenty years."
The hunter's eyes widened as recognition flickered. Kael let him go, but not before warning him: "Tell no one you saw me. Not yet. Survival… is a game, and the board is rigged."
That night, Kael found a small cache of supplies in the abandoned market stalls bread, dried meat, a rusted but usable dagger. Not much, but enough to start. And more importantly, he had proof. Proof that he could still survive, still hunt, still outthink anyone in the city.
As he settled in an abandoned building, Kael allowed himself a moment to plan. He needed:
1. Weapons and gear starting small, scavenging or crafting.
2. Information who profited from his fall, and who might ally with him.
3. Powerful hunts beasts that could grant rare resources and experience, to regain strength quickly.
4. Secrets of regression the unknown force that had stripped him of everything.
His first hunt would be minor a test but he knew bigger prey awaited. Monsters, conspiracies, rivals… all of them would soon learn that Kael Draven wasn't finished.
Outside, the city slept. Somewhere in the shadows, eyes watched him again. Kael sensed it. Someone knew he had returned. And the first move of the game… was about to begin.