THE GOD WHO HUNTED HIMSELF

THE GOD WHO HUNTED HIMSELF Author: RAVENEL CHAPTER ONE: THE MAN WHO SHOULD NOT EXIST The first thing Kael Ren remembered about dying was the sound of his own laughter. It had been a strange sound. Broken. Bloodied. Almost joyful. He remembered standing beneath a sky that had been torn apart by the battle between gods. Mountains floated upside down above a burning world, their roots exposed to the heavens. Rivers had turned black, and the bodies of immortals covered the shattered plains as far as his eyes could see. Above him, seven enormous thrones floated among the clouds. Six were occupied. The seventh stood empty. And before him stood a man wearing white robes. The man's black hair flowed behind him despite the absence of wind. His face was beautiful in the same terrible way that a perfectly sharpened blade was beautiful. There was no anger in his expression, no hatred, not even the slightest trace of satisfaction. He looked at Kael as a farmer might look at a w**d growing in his field. Something unnecessary. Something that had been allowed to survive for far too long. The man held a golden sword. Its blade had pierced Kael's chest. Blood ran down Kael's clothes and dripped from his fingertips. Every breath felt like swallowing broken glass. The power that had once allowed him to shatter stars had disappeared, leaving behind a body that could barely remain standing. Yet he continued to smile. "How disappointing," the man in white said. Kael coughed blood onto the ground. "Disappointing?" "You spent ten thousand years searching for me. You crossed the Nine f*******n Realms, slaughtered the immortal clans, destroyed the gates of heaven, and dragged countless innocent lives into your war." The man tilted his head. "And after everything you have done, this is what you have become." Kael looked down at the sword in his chest. Then he looked back up. "Tell me something." The man waited. "Did you ever wonder why I was searching for you?" "No." The answer came without hesitation. Kael laughed. Blood spilled from his mouth. "Of course you didn't." For the first time, something changed in the man's eyes. Not guilt. Not pity. Curiosity. It was the curiosity of someone examining an insect before crushing it beneath his foot. "Your final words?" the man asked. Kael's smile widened. "No. My first question." He leaned forward, forcing the golden sword deeper into his chest. The man's expression finally changed. Only slightly. But Kael saw it. "You know," Kael whispered, "I spent ten thousand years believing that if I found you, everything would make sense." The battlefield trembled. Cracks spread through the sky. "But now that I'm standing here, I realize something." His fingers closed around the sword. "You don't know either." The man's eyes narrowed. Kael began to laugh again. And the golden sword erupted with light. The world disappeared. --- Kael opened his eyes. Darkness surrounded him. For several seconds, he did not move. He simply stared upward, trying to understand why he could see nothing. Had the light blinded him? Was he floating in some endless void? Had death finally taken him somewhere beyond the reach of the heavens? He attempted to raise his hand. His arm moved. The discovery should have comforted him. Instead, his fingertips struck something hard. Wood. Kael frowned. He stretched his hand upward and pressed his palm against the surface above him. The space was narrow. Too narrow. He moved his other hand and discovered a wooden wall beside his shoulder. When he tried to turn his head, his forehead struck the opposite side. His breathing stopped. A cold sensation spread through his body. "No." His voice sounded strange. Weak. Dry. He swallowed, but his throat burned. "No, no, no." He began pushing against the wooden surface. It did not move. He pushed harder. The wood creaked, but the space around him remained unchanged. Something soft and loose shifted beneath his fingers. Soil. His hands froze. Slowly, painfully, the truth entered his mind. He was inside a coffin. Buried underground. Kael stared into the darkness. For the first time in ten thousand years, he had no idea what to do. He remembered dying. He remembered the sword. He remembered the man who had killed him. But he had no memory of being placed inside a coffin. He did not remember who had buried him, where he had been buried, or how much time had passed since his death. He pressed his hands against the wood again. "Open." Nothing happened. He tried to summon his spiritual energy. Nothing. He attempted to call upon the ancient techniques that had once allowed him to command lightning, split mountains, and burn entire armies into ash. Nothing answered. His body was empty. Not weakened. Not sealed. Empty. The realization struck harder than the sword had. Kael Ren, once feared throughout the Nine f*******n Realms, could not even break a wooden coffin. A bitter laugh escaped his throat. It became a cough. His chest convulsed, and pain tore through his ribs. He stopped laughing. Pain. Real pain. His body was not an illusion. He was alive. Somehow, impossibly, he had returned to life. But whoever had brought him back had done so without his power, without his memories, and without even the dignity of allowing him to awaken somewhere other than a grave. Kael placed both palms against the coffin lid. He had spent ten thousand years hunting a man who looked exactly like him. Now he was trapped inside a box, unable to remember why. If this was a joke, he intended to find the person responsible. And if this was a punishment, he would make the one who designed it regret every moment of its existence. He pushed. The wood groaned. He pushed again. A thin c***k appeared above his forehead. Kael paused. Then he smiled. "Good." He drove his palms upward with everything his ruined body could produce. The coffin lid splintered. A shower of dirt fell across his face. He coughed, turned his head, and forced his fingers into the opening. Sharp fragments of wood tore his skin, but he ignored the pain and widened the c***k. The lid broke apart. Earth collapsed into the coffin. For several terrifying seconds, Kael was buried beneath a mass of soil that pressed against his chest and filled his mouth. Instinct took over. He clawed upward. His nails broke. His knuckles split. His shoulders screamed with pain. He continued digging. One handful. Then another. Then another. He had once destroyed an immortal fortress with a single movement of his finger. Now he fought for every inch of earth he displaced. The humiliation was almost unbearable. Almost. Because beneath the humiliation, something else was growing. Anger. Not the wild fury that had consumed him during the final years of his previous life. This anger was quieter. Colder. Patient. He would remember. He would discover what had happened to him. And when he found the person responsible, he would demand answers. Even if he had to tear apart the world to obtain them. His fingers broke through the ground. Cold air touched his skin. Kael dragged himself upward, clawing through the remaining soil until he finally emerged from the grave. He collapsed onto wet grass beneath a dark sky. For a long time, he could do nothing except lie there and gasp. Rain struck his face. The wind carried the smell of damp earth, rotting leaves, and something faintly metallic. Blood. Kael turned his head. The clearing around him was filled with graves. Dozens of them. Some were nothing more than shallow depressions in the ground. Others had stone markers covered in moss. At the far end of the clearing stood a row of tall monuments carved with symbols he did not recognize. Every grave bore the same strange mark. A circle divided by a vertical line. Kael looked at the symbol nearest to him. The moment his eyes settled upon it, a sharp pain pierced his skull. For an instant, he saw a white temple. A black sun. Seven figures kneeling before a throne. Then the vision disappeared. Kael grabbed his head. "What was that?" His voice sounded painfully ordinary. He hated it. He had once spoken a single sentence and forced entire armies to their knees. His name had been enough to make rulers abandon their kingdoms. Now his own voice sounded like that of a man who had spent too many nights coughing in the cold. He sat up slowly. His body felt unfamiliar. His clothes were old and torn, made from a dark fabric that clung to his skin. Mud covered his sleeves. His fingers were thin, and his arms trembled whenever he tried to move them. He touched his face. The skin felt young. Too young. He found a shallow puddle between two stones and leaned over it. A stranger stared back. He appeared to be in his early twenties, with sharp features, pale skin, and long black hair tangled across his forehead. His face was thinner than Kael remembered, but the eyes were unmistakable. Dark. Cold. Exhausted. Kael touched the reflection. The water rippled. "No," he whispered. This was not the face he had worn when he died. His previous body had carried the scars of ten thousand years of war. Silver streaks had run through his hair, and a deep scar crossed his left cheek. His eyes had glowed with the accumulated power of countless battles. This body possessed none of those things. It was a younger version of him. A version that had never experienced the wars he remembered. A version that should not have existed. He looked down at his chest. Beneath the torn fabric, a black mark rested directly over his heart. It resembled an eye. Three thin lines curved around a dark central point, forming a symbol that seemed to shift whenever he looked at it directly. Kael reached toward it. Pain exploded behind his eyes. He fell backward. The world blurred. Then a voice spoke. [SOUL CONNECTION ESTABLISHED.] Kael went still. The voice had not come from the surrounding forest. It had appeared directly inside his consciousness. Calm. Mechanical. Completely unfamiliar. [IDENTITY VERIFICATION INITIATED.] A faint blue light appeared before his eyes. Kael stared at it. Words formed within the light. NAME: KAEL REN SOUL STATUS: DAMAGED BODY STATUS: RECONSTRUCTED MEMORY INTEGRITY: 0.01% CULTIVATION: NONE AUTHORITY: RESTRICTED Kael read the information twice. Then a third time. "Who are you?" There was no response. He waved his hand through the floating display. His fingers passed through it without resistance. He tried to close his eyes. The display remained visible. "Answer me." A new line appeared. [WELCOME BACK, ORIGINAL.] Kael's expression hardened. "Original?" The blue light flickered. [ERROR: DESIGNATION CONFLICT.] [ERROR: SUBJECT EXISTS IN MULTIPLE RECORDS.] [ERROR: IDENTITY CANNOT BE CONFIRMED.] Kael slowly stood. The surrounding trees seemed to lean inward as the wind passed through their branches. Multiple records. Two versions of the same person? He remembered the battlefield. The golden sword. The man in white. He remembered looking into a face identical to his own. For ten thousand years, he had believed that man was the answer to everything. Now a mysterious system was telling him that his identity could not be confirmed. Kael clenched his fists. "Show me my memories." The display changed. [REQUEST DENIED.] "Why?" [MEMORY ACCESS REQUIRES AUTHORIZATION.] "Whose authorization?" For the first time, the system hesitated. A tiny distortion crossed the blue light. Then the answer appeared. [THE HUNTER.] The temperature seemed to drop. Kael looked toward the distant trees. Rain slid down his face. "The hunter," he repeated. The display vanished. A moment later, it returned. This time, the letters were red. [WARNING.] [ANOMALOUS SOUL SIGNATURE DETECTED.] [LOCATION: UNKNOWN GRAVEYARD.] [PURSUER HAS BEEN NOTIFIED.] Kael stared at the message. "What pursuer?" The system did not answer. Instead, a final line appeared. [WARNING: DO NOT ALLOW THE HUNTER TO FIND YOU.] Then the light disappeared completely. Kael remained motionless. For ten thousand years, he had hunted a man who possessed his face. Now something called the hunter was searching for him. He looked at his reflection in the puddle again. For a moment, the face staring back seemed to smile. Kael did not. He stepped away from the water. "Interesting." The word escaped before he could stop it. It was the same word the man in white had spoken when Kael first discovered the truth about his existence. Interesting. A meaningless word used by someone who believed he had already won. Kael hated it. He began walking toward the edge of the clearing. He had no weapon, no cultivation, no money, and no understanding of the world surrounding him. He did not even know how many years had passed since his death. But he had survived the grave. That was enough for tonight. He would find shelter. He would learn where he was. Then he would begin searching for answers. A faint sound interrupted his thoughts. Footsteps. Someone was approaching from the forest. Kael stopped. The footsteps were slow, uneven, and accompanied by the occasional crunch of a broken branch. He turned toward the sound. A man emerged between the trees. He wore a weather-beaten brown cloak and carried a lantern in one hand. A narrow sword hung from his waist. His face was lined with age, and a short grey beard covered his chin. He appeared to be an ordinary traveller. But when he saw Kael standing among the graves, he stopped so abruptly that the lantern swung from his hand. The flame inside it flickered. The old man stared at Kael. His lips parted. "No." Kael said nothing. The man took one step backward. "No. That is impossible." "Do I know you?" Kael asked. The old man's face had lost all colour. He looked at Kael's chest, then at the broken grave behind him. His eyes widened. "You were buried." Kael glanced over his shoulder. "So I discovered." The old man seemed unable to understand the answer. "They killed you." "Who did?" "The Seven Thrones." The words struck something deep inside Kael's mind. A vast palace appeared behind his eyes. Seven thrones. Seven crowns. Seven blades. And a man sitting alone before an empty seat. The vision vanished before he could understand it. Kael took a step toward the old man. "What are the Seven Thrones?" The traveller stumbled backward again. "You cannot be here." "That is not an answer." "You must be dead." "I was." The old man froze. Kael watched him carefully. "Now I am not. So tell me what happened." The traveller's fingers tightened around the lantern handle. For a moment, Kael thought he might attack. Instead, the man dropped the lantern. It struck a stone and shattered. The flame died. The forest became darker. Then a bell rang somewhere beyond the mountains. One deep, distant note. The old man's face changed. He turned toward the sound with the expression of someone who had just heard his own death sentence. A second bell rang. Then a third. With every chime, the air grew heavier. Kael felt pressure settle upon his shoulders. The trees bent beneath an invisible force, and the puddles at his feet began to tremble. The old man fell to his knees. "Please," he whispered. Kael looked down at him. "Who are you speaking to?" The traveller did not answer. A fourth bell rang. The clouds above the forest began to turn in a slow circle. The old man pressed his forehead against the wet ground. "Mercy. Please, show mercy." Kael followed his gaze toward the sky. For a brief moment, the clouds parted. Something watched from beyond them. An enormous golden eye. It was so distant that it should have been impossible to distinguish its shape, yet Kael saw every detail. The narrow pupil. The ancient markings surrounding it. The faint cracks spreading across its golden surface. He recognized that eye. Not from his memories. From his dreams. Dreams he had experienced for ten thousand years. A voice descended from the heavens. It was not loud. It did not need to be. Every tree in the clearing shook as the words entered the world. "An error has occurred." The old man began to tremble violently. Kael stared at the sky. The voice continued. "The dead have returned to the world of the living." A fifth bell rang. "An unauthorized soul has occupied a f*******n vessel." A sixth bell rang. "The balance must be restored." The golden eye narrowed. Then the voice spoke Kael's name. "Kael Ren." The sound of it sent a shock through his entire body. The black mark over his heart burned. He staggered backward, clutching his chest. Images flashed through his mind. A child standing beneath a red moon. A woman screaming in a burning house. A white-robed man washing blood from his hands. A battlefield. A golden sword. And a voice whispering from the darkness. When you return, do not trust the face you see in the mirror. Kael fell to one knee. The vision vanished. He raised his head, breathing heavily. The old traveller was staring at him in horror. "You heard it," the man whispered. Kael forced himself to stand. "Heard what?" "The judgment." A seventh bell rang. The sound was different from the others. It was softer. Almost gentle. But the moment it echoed across the forest, the golden eye disappeared. The pressure vanished. The trees stopped shaking. The clouds returned to their natural movement. For several seconds, nothing happened. Then the system returned. Red letters filled Kael's vision. [EMERGENCY QUEST ACTIVATED.] OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE THE FIRST HUNT. TIME REMAINING: 07:00:00 FAILURE PENALTY: PERMANENT SOUL ERASURE. Kael stared at the message. Seven hours. That was all the time he had. "Who is hunting me?" he asked. The system responded immediately. [PURSUER IDENTIFIED.] [NAME: KAEL REN.] [TITLE: THE FIRST GOD.] [THREAT LEVEL: UNMEASURABLE.] Kael stopped breathing. The old traveller began crawling backward through the mud. "No," he whispered. "No, no, no." Kael barely heard him. He was staring at the name. Kael Ren. The same name. The same face. The same soul—or something close enough to fool the system. The man who had killed him ten thousand years ago was hunting him again. Unless the truth was worse. Unless the man in white had never been his enemy. Unless the enemy had been waiting inside him all along. A laugh escaped Kael's throat. Quiet at first. Then louder. He laughed until his chest hurt and tears mixed with the rain running down his face. The old man scrambled to his feet. "What are you?" Kael slowly turned toward him. His laughter stopped. "I don't know." For the first time, he spoke without anger, arrogance, or certainty. "I don't know who I am." He looked at the broken coffin. At the graves. At the dark forest beyond them. "But I'm going to find out." He stepped over the shattered wood and began walking toward the trees. Behind him, the old man shouted. "Where are you going? You cannot escape him! Nobody escapes the First God!" Kael did not turn around. "Then he should have made certain I stayed dead." He disappeared into the forest. Far beyond the clouds, in a palace suspended above the heavens, a man in white robes opened his eyes. He sat upon a throne of pale gold. Six other thrones surrounded him. All six were empty. A golden sword rested across his knees, its surface reflecting a world that no longer existed. A black screen appeared before him. ANOMALOUS SOUL SIGNATURE DETECTED. SUBJECT: KAEL REN. STATUS: ALIVE. For a long time, the man said nothing. Then he smiled. "So the corpse has learned to crawl." He lifted one hand. A second message appeared. EXECUTION AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED