The rooms across from the trader's shop were simple — stone walls, a small hearth with a dwindling fire, and a cot draped in heavy wool blankets. Kain shut the door behind him, placing his satchel at the foot of the bed and unfastening his new wolf-fur cloak. He hung it on a nearby hook, letting the snow melt and drip into a small basin.
Outside, the wind had calmed. The snowfall, too, had eased into a quiet flurry, blanketing the village in a soft hush.
Kain didn't bother with his armor, again simply unlatching the plates and letting the fall to the ground. He stripped down to his tunic, climbed beneath the thick blankets, and let his tired limbs sink into the cot.
He stared at the low ceiling for a while, his body warm and still, the fire casting flickering shadows on the walls. For the first time in what felt like weeks, he wasn't tense. No adrenaline, no blood on the snow, no haunting echoes from his past.
Just the sound of the wind dying against the stone outside… and peace.
Kain's eyes slipped closed.
No dreams came.
Only rest.
***
The morning light broke through the frosted window, pale and golden. Kain opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the brightness. For a moment, he didn't move — just breathed in the crisp, quiet air.
He felt… good.
Clear-headed. Grounded.
Alive.
Kain sat up, rubbing a hand through his hair. The cold bit at his fingers, but it felt clean. Sharper. Like something was shifting.
He stood, stretched, and pulled on his boots. The wolf-fur cloak was dry now, heavy and comforting as he fastened it back around his shoulders after he had finished clamping his armor on.
Today, he would reach the foot of the final ascent.
Rovalt was close.
And for the first time in this strange new world… Kain felt ready.
Kain stepped out of his room and made his way to the back door of the inn. The morning air was crisp and light, yet a thick layer of fog blanketed the village, curling low around the rooftops and clinging to the ground like a ghostly veil.
The wolf fur cloak had been a wise purchase—its warmth warded off the early chill that bit at his skin.
Inside the inn, he quietly placed his key on the rack behind the counter.
The bartender hadn't arrived yet. In fact, the place was silent. The village was still asleep, barely stirring beneath the weight of the fog.
Kain stepped outside, the door creaking softly behind him as it shut. The fog clung to his boots as he walked, curling around his legs before vanishing with each step. The village behind him faded quickly into white as he moved north, deeper into the wilderness.
The mountains loomed ahead—jagged silhouettes shrouded in mist and crowned with snow. Their icy breath swept down in sudden gusts, tugging at his cloak and whispering through the trees like ancient voices.
The path narrowed the further he climbed. What had started as a gravel road became a winding, snow-covered trail etched into the side of the mountains. Pines lined the slopes, their branches heavy with frost. Kain's boots crunched softly against the fresh powder, leaving a straight line of prints behind him. Each breath he took clouded the air before fading into the chill.
Hours passed in silence. The only sound was the wind—and once, the distant call of a hawk echoing over the cliffs.
By midday, the sun was a dim silver disk behind thick clouds. Snowflakes had begun to drift lazily from the sky, dusting Kain's shoulders. He paused on a ridge to rest and took a swig of water from his flask. Looking out, he could just make out a winding river far below and, beyond it, a pale glimmer on the horizon—Rovalt.
'Still a day or two at this pace,' he muttered.
Then the wind shifted.
Kain froze.
It was faint, but unmistakable—a soft crunch of snow from somewhere behind him. Controlled. Measured. Not like the wind. Not like falling snow.
He slowly reached for the hilt of his sword, heart rate spiking as instinct took over.
Another crunch. Closer.
He turned, drawing his weapon with a hiss of steel.
And there it was.
The black cat.
It stood a few paces away in the snow, staring up at him like it had been following him the whole time.
Kain let out a long breath, shoulders dropping. "You've really got to stop doing that," he muttered.
The cat blinked slowly.
Kain stared at it for a moment. "What are you, exactly?"
The cat meowed softly, then casually began grooming its paw—completely unbothered by the sword still gripped in Kain's hand.
He sheathed the blade and shook his head. "You're not normal. You know that, right?"
The cat didn't respond. It never did.
When Kain turned to start walking again, the cat followed. Silent. Patient. Its paws left no prints in the snow this time.
'This cat is seriously weird,' Kain glanced back at the cat, checking if it had disappeared like last time.
'Its not like it's attacking me or anything, so that's good I guess,' he turned his head forward, letting out a breath that clouded the air in front of him.
The cat padded silently behind, its movements more like a shadow than a creature of flesh and bone. Kain kept glancing back every now and then, but each time, it was just there—calm, quiet, unblinking.
The trail wound upward, the snow thickening with each step. Kain's boots sank deeper, and he had to lean into the climb, using a gnarled tree branch as a walking stick. The mountains were colder now. Harsher. Even with the wolf fur cloak draped around him, the wind bit through his layers, stealing warmth from his fingertips and nose.
The sun had sunk behind thick clouds, turning the world into a wash of grey and white. Everything felt muted. Still. Only the occasional crack of ice in the distance or the shifting snow on a far-off slope broke the silence.
As dusk approached, the forest began to thin, giving way to open highland fields. Massive stone formations jutted from the snow like ancient bones, weathered by centuries of wind. Kain stopped at the edge of one such field and scanned ahead.
Far across the basin, nestled between the base of two looming cliffs, he could make out the first man-made structure he'd seen since the village—a black watchtower, silhouetted against the snowy ridge.
Rovalt.
He was closer than he thought.
But something about the sight made his skin prickle.
Smoke curled lazily from the tower's chimney. No other movement. No lights in the windows. Just cold stone and silence.
Behind him, the cat let out a low purring sound.
Kain glanced back. It was sitting now, tail wrapped around its paws, staring not at him, but toward Rovalt.
"You too, huh?" Kain muttered.
He didn't know why, but the air felt heavier here. Not just colder—but heavier. Like the weight of memory lingered in the wind. He tugged the scarf higher around his face and began moving again.
Step after step, he drew closer to the mountain town. The cat followed, matching his pace without effort, even as the snow came up past its knees.
Whatever waited for him in Rovalt, he could feel it in his bones now.
Something was coming.
And this time… he didn't think it would vanish like a cat in the snow.
***
Kain trudged past the black watchtower, its stone walls streaked with age and soot. The tall, narrow windows were empty—dark like hollowed eyes watching him pass. He slowed as he moved beneath its shadow, eyes scanning the base. No guards. No movement. Just the wind pressing against the walls, whistling softly like a warning.
The cat followed him still, its paws leaving no trace on the snow-covered ground.
Kain paused for a moment at the base of the tower steps, his hand resting near the hilt of his sword. He considered knocking, just to see if anyone was still posted inside—but something told him not to. The kind of silence that lingered here didn't feel like it welcomed questions.
He pressed on.
Rovalt loomed ahead, built partially into the mountainside like it had been carved from the rock itself. The first buildings he passed were old stone cottages, smoke rising from their chimneys in thin trails. Icicles hung from wooden eaves, glittering in the fading light. The streets were narrow and uneven, packed snow crunching under his boots.
He was being watched.
He didn't see anyone at first—but the town had eyes. Kain could feel them. In half-drawn curtains. In the sliver between shutters. Shapes flickered and vanished at the corners of windows as he passed.
Despite this, no one came out to meet him. No greetings. No curious questions. Just silence and the dull ring of wind chimes somewhere in the distance.
Kain turned a corner and saw the town square—if it could even be called that. It was small and round, with a frozen fountain at the center and a few timber-framed shops facing inward. A rickety tavern stood to the left, its sign barely swinging in the stiff breeze. "Crooked tavern," it read, the paint worn and scratched.
The black cat leapt up onto the fountain's edge and sat, tail flicking behind it. It looked toward the tavern, then back at Kain.
He stared at it for a moment, then gave a faint chuckle. "What, am I supposed to follow your lead now?"
The cat blinked slowly, then turned its head back to the tavern.
Kain sighed. "Right. Crooked tavern it is."
He stepped forward and pushed open the door. The heavy wood creaked and groaned, the sound breaking the silence like a knife.
Inside, a few heads turned. The room was dim, firelight casting long shadows across tables and walls. A bartender looked up from wiping down the counter, eyes narrowing as he studied Kain's figure.
Kain stepped in, letting the door close behind him.
Snow still clung to his cloak. The scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face, and his amber eyes were the only part of him clearly visible.
And in that moment, no one in Rovalt knew who he was.
But Kain had a feeling that wouldn't last long.
The warmth of the Crooked tavern seeped into Kain's bones as he stepped deeper inside. His boots left wet prints on the old wooden floorboards, drawing the attention of a few patrons seated near the fire. Most turned back to their drinks quickly—nobody here seemed eager to chat.
The bartender, a burly older man with a weathered face and a neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard, watched him approach. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were sharp.
Kain pulled down his scarf and lowered his hood. "Evening."
The bartender gave a slow nod. "You're not from here."
"Noticed that fast, huh?"
"Not many pass through Rovalt these days unless they've got business." The bartender leaned forward slightly. "You?"
Kain rested his arm on the counter. "Looking for someone. A mage."
That caught the bartender's attention. His brow creased. "You'll need to be more specific. Mages don't exactly advertise themselves."
Kain tilted his head. "I heard she was living near the upper ridge, don't know much else."
The bartender grunted, it seemed as though he already knew who Kain was talking about. "You've got guts asking about her so openly."
Kain narrowed his eyes. "She dangerous?"
"Not in the way most think. But people here are superstitious. Too many disappearances in the last few winters. Strange sounds from the cliffs. Some blame wolves. Others whisper about curses. She lives alone out near the broken tower past the north trail. People keep their distance. Aravelle, that's her name."
'Aravelle huh, sounds like a mage name.'
"I take it she doesn't come into town much."
"Hasn't in nearly three months." The bartender grabbed a cloth and started wiping down the bar again. "Last person who tried to visit her didn't come back. Hunter named Varik. Good man. Cautious. That was a month ago."
Kain stayed silent for a moment, his thoughts calculating. Then he reached into his cloak, pulled out a silver coin, and placed it on the bar.
"Thanks for the information."
The bartender didn't take the coin. "You planning to go up there tonight?"
"No," Kain said, glancing out the window where snow had started to fall again. "Tomorrow. Early."
The bartender gave a reluctant nod. "Then you'd best stay here. Top floor room. Door at the back."
Kain picked up the coin and set it on the counter again, firmer this time. "Appreciate it."
As he turned to leave, the bartender said, "You said you're looking for her… what for?"
Kain paused with one hand on the railing leading up to the rooms. "I'm not sure yet."
And with that, he climbed the stairs, the black cat already waiting halfway up, perched and watching like it knew something he didn't.
The wooden stairs creaked softly under Kain's boots as he made his way to the top floor. The hall was dim, lit by a single oil lantern swaying gently in its bracket. The door to his room let out a tired groan as he opened it.
Inside, the room was small but warm. A single bed, a basin of cold water, and a chair by the window—that was all. Kain stepped in and closed the door behind him. He unfastened the heavy fur cloak and let it drop onto the chair before walking to the window.
Snow had begun to fall again. Thick, slow flakes drifted past the window, the village below blanketed in pale silence. Somewhere in the distance, a lonely bell rang—perhaps a signal for night watch, or perhaps just the wind playing tricks on the old metal.
Kain stood there for a while, his thoughts drifting.
'What the hell am I even doing?'
He leaned against the windowsill, arms crossed. The reflection in the glass stared back at him—scarred, amber-eyed, and unfamiliar.
'Just over a week ago, I was in a different world, Earth. A sniper. 108 confirmed kills. I was clean, sharp, calculated. What the fuck happened.'
Kain ran his hand down his face. He could still hear radio transmissions. Still smell the smoke. Still feel the cold silence that followed after the kill.
'My family, friends, life before the army. I was so excited to go back and see them.'
'And now I'm here. In a world of swords and mages. Hunting down someone I've never met, based on memories that aren't even fully mine.'
He let out a slow breath, fogging the glass.
The cat.
That damn black cat that kept showing up. Was it a sign? A spirit? A spy? He wasn't sure. But it felt like it was connected to something deeper—like this world itself was watching him.
'Maybe I already died back on earth. Maybe this is hell.'
Kain looked to the snowy horizon beyond the rooftops of Rovalt, where the broken tower waited. Where Aravelle waited.
'What do I even say to her? "Hi, I got transported here from another world, any suggestions on what to do?" She'll think I'm insane.'
And maybe he was.
But he had to know.
Kain turned from the window and sat on the edge of the bed, the wooden frame creaking under his weight. He removed his boots, his gauntlets, and finally lay back, staring at the ceiling.
'Tomorrow, I get answers. One way or another.'
The wind howled softly beyond the walls, like a distant whisper, and Kain fell asleep.