The first thing Kael noticed was the cold. Not the kind of winter chill from his home world, but a biting, metallic cold that crawled into his bones. He opened his eyes to a sky painted in shades of gray, the sun struggling to pierce the smoke that hung over the battlefield-strewn valley.
"Where… am I?" he whispered, his voice cracking. The armor on his body clanked as he moved. Confusion twisted into panic—he remembered leaving his small apartment just yesterday. And now, he was here, wearing the uniform of a soldier he didn't know, on a land he had never seen.
A voice snapped him from his thoughts.
"Move, recruit! Morning drill starts in five!"
Kael turned to see a line of soldiers marching past, faces hardened by discipline and war. Their leader, a tall man with a scar running across his left eye, barked orders that made even the veterans flinch.
"Daily life… in a warzone," Kael muttered, trying to keep up as he was herded toward the training grounds. Already, he could feel the weight of the sword at his side—a weapon foreign to his hands.
The drills were brutal. Soldiers clashed with wooden swords, practiced formations, and ran obstacle courses that left Kael gasping for air. Every muscle screamed, and yet, in the chaos, he noticed the tiny routines that kept them alive: rationed meals eaten quickly, whispered advice from senior soldiers, the careful inspection of armor and weapons before heading out on patrol.
Kael struggled, falling behind again and again. But then, during a sparring session, something inside him ignited. A tactical move he had only seen in games back home clicked instinctively. He blocked an opponent's strike, countered with a swift maneuver, and for the first time, he heard a sound that wasn't panic—it was respect.
The scarred leader nodded at him.
"Not bad, recruit. Keep this up, and maybe you'll survive the first battle."
Kael swallowed hard. Survival. That word lingered like a shadow over everything. He had no idea how he got here, or what awaited him, but he knew one thing for sure: he had to adapt, or he would die.
As the sun set behind the distant mountains, painting the battlefield crimson, Kael realized that this world wasn't just a war to fight—it was a life to survive, day by day, drill by drill, and battle by battle.
And somehow… he would rise.