The Eternal Choir: Emperor of the Mysteries

The air reeked of soot and despair. Rain fell in a slow, dismal drizzle, turning the dirt roads of the dilapidated Backlund district into trails of mud. Kael Reimann stirred awake on the cold stone floor of an abandoned building. His mind was a storm of chaos, fragments of a life not his own flashing in vivid bursts. The name "Yhwach" echoed in his thoughts, a presence that seemed both alien and intrinsic, like a shadow of himself that he could not escape.

His chest heaved as he struggled to breathe, his surroundings swimming in and out of focus. Worn wooden beams creaked above, the pale light of a dying streetlamp seeping through cracks in the walls. A faint, acrid scent of decay clung to the air, mixing with the coppery tang of blood.

"Where… am I?" Kael rasped, his voice hoarse. Memories—no, visions—assaulted him: a throne room bathed in cold light, a legion of warriors kneeling before him, and a power so immense it felt as if the world itself bent to his will. Then, the image of a boy—himself—wandering the streets of Backlund, scraping by in a life of hardship.

He clutched his head as the fragmented images blended into an unbearable cacophony. "Who am I?" The question felt more urgent than anything else, and yet the answer remained elusive.

A noise jolted him from his thoughts—a clatter of boots against cobblestones. Kael's instincts, sharper than they should have been, urged him to silence. He pressed himself against the damp wall, peering through a jagged crack in the wood. A figure approached: a man wrapped in a long coat, his face shadowed under a wide-brimmed hat. Something about him felt off, his presence too deliberate, too predatory.

The man paused in the street, glancing around as though searching for something—or someone. A faint shimmer of light caught Kael's attention. The man's gloved hand held a small metallic device etched with unfamiliar symbols, glowing faintly in the dim light.

A Beyonder.

The realization struck Kael like a blow. The word surfaced in his mind unbidden, accompanied by fragmented knowledge—secrets of power, of ritual, and the cost of ascension. This man was dangerous, far more than he seemed.

The Beyonder's device emitted a soft hum, the glow intensifying. "I know you're here," the man called out, his voice low and menacing. "You've strayed too far into our world, haven't you? Come out, and I'll make this quick."

Panic clawed at Kael's chest, but beneath it, something colder and more calculating emerged. He had no weapon, no allies, and no understanding of his situation. Yet he felt a strange certainty—a quiet voice in his mind, not his own, whispering strategies and outcomes. The Almighty.

He didn't know how, but he could feel the possibilities branching out before him. If he stayed hidden, the man would find him. If he ran, the pursuit would end in blood. And if he fought…

Kael's hands clenched into fists. The voice—the power—seemed to assure him that fighting wasn't just possible; it was inevitable.

The man stepped closer, the device in his hand pulsing with energy. "Last chance."

Kael moved. It wasn't a conscious decision but a reaction guided by instinct and foresight. He darted from his hiding place, snatching a jagged piece of wood from the floor. The Beyonder's eyes widened in surprise, but he recovered quickly, raising his hand. A sphere of dark energy formed, crackling with ominous light.

Before the attack could be unleashed, Kael hurled the wood with unerring precision. It struck the man's wrist, disrupting the spell. Kael closed the distance in an instant, his movements sharper, faster than they should have been. He wrestled the man to the ground, his hand instinctively pressing against the Beyonder's chest.

Then he felt it—a pull, a connection to something deeper. The man's struggles grew weaker as a stream of light flowed from his body into Kael's hand. Knowledge, power, and memories surged into Kael's mind. He understood now: the man had been a Sequence 9 Hunter, a minor Beyonder who stalked the weak for sport. And now, his abilities were Kael's to claim.

The man's lifeless body slumped to the ground, the glow fading from his eyes. Kael staggered back, the influx of power making his head spin. The world seemed sharper, colors more vivid, sounds more distinct.

For a moment, he stood there, staring at the corpse. A wave of nausea hit him, but it passed quickly, replaced by a chilling sense of purpose. He didn't know what had brought him to this world, nor why Yhwach's memories and abilities resided within him. But he knew one thing with certainty.

He wasn't going to die here, not in this filthy alley, not to forces he barely understood.

Kael Reimann would rise.