The Chains of Fate

The moment Raiyan grasped the sword, the world shifted.

A thunderous pulse shot through his body, like something ancient and powerful had been awakened. His vision blurred, his heartbeat pounded in his ears, and then—

The pain hit.

It wasn't just physical—it was something deeper. Like his soul was being reshaped, burned, reforged into something new.

And then—

He saw it.

A battlefield. Not the ruins he stood in, but alive—fresh with war.

The sky burned red, and the ground was soaked in the blood of countless warriors. Armies clashed, their weapons glowing with ethereal energy. Among them, a lone figure stood, wielding this very sword.

He was tall, clad in silver-and-black armor, his face obscured by a mask. The way he moved was unnatural—like the battlefield itself bent to his will.

One man against thousands.

And he was winning.

Raiyan's mind barely had time to process the sight before the masked warrior turned.

He looked directly at Raiyan.

"…You are not me."

His voice was like steel, heavy with an unknown weight. Before Raiyan could react, the world around him shattered, and—

Raiyan collapsed, gasping. His body trembled as he tried to comprehend what had just happened.

The battlefield was silent.

The soldiers who had chased him—mere moments ago, shouting and confident—now stood frozen. Their faces were pale with fear.

One of them stumbled back. "T-This is impossible… That sword was supposed to be… lost… destroyed—"

The leader, a grizzled man with a scar over his eye, gritted his teeth. "Kill him. Now."

The order shattered the silence.

Raiyan barely had time to think before the first soldier lunged. A blade whistled through the air, aimed straight for his heart.

His body reacted on its own.

With no training, no experience—he moved.

The world slowed. His muscles tensed, and instinct surged through his veins. He sidestepped, the sword missing him by inches. His grip on the ancient blade tightened, and without thinking—

He swung.

A single arc of silver.

The soldier's weapon shattered on impact. A shockwave burst from Raiyan's blade, sending the man flying backward. He crashed into the others, knocking them down like ragdolls.

Silence.

The remaining soldiers hesitated. They had just witnessed something unnatural.

The leader, however, didn't waver. His eyes burned with recognition.

"You…" His voice was low, dangerous. "You carry the curse of the Forsaken Blade."

Forsaken Blade?

Raiyan's mind reeled. What had he just awakened?

The soldiers no longer looked at him as prey. They looked at him like a monster.

The leader pointed at him, voice firm. "Retreat. Now."

"But Captain—"

"I said retreat!"

Without hesitation, they turned and fled.

Raiyan stood frozen, gripping the sword tightly. He should have been relieved. Instead, unease settled deep in his gut.

The captain had feared him.

Not because of who he was.

Because of what he had become.

Raiyan exhaled slowly, his mind racing.

His body still ached, but something had changed.

Before, he had felt weak—powerless, just like in his old life. But now, a strange energy coursed through his limbs. It was faint, but it was there. Waiting. Watching.

And then, he noticed the chains.

The shackles that had once bound his wrists and ankles were still there. But now, they were different.

They no longer felt like simple metal. They pulsed. Almost like they were… alive.

Raiyan reached out, running his fingers over them, and—

A sharp whisper echoed in his mind.

"You are not free."

His heart pounded. That voice— It wasn't the masked warrior's. It was something else. Something deeper, older.

The chains glowed for a moment before fading again.

What… am I?

His body still felt human. But after everything—the visions, the unnatural speed, the soldiers' fear—was he really the same as before?

He clenched his fists.

No. He wasn't the same.

The sun had begun to set, casting the battlefield in hues of deep crimson and violet. Raiyan forced himself to move. He had no answers, but he couldn't afford to stand still.

If those soldiers were afraid of him, then others would be, too.

And fear led to hunting.

He had to find shelter. He had to survive.

As he walked forward, the wind carried distant voices.

Not soldiers. Something else.

His grip on the sword tightened. His instincts whispered.

This world was filled with dangers.

And he had just become one of them

he collapse .

To be continued..