The Godslayer's Return

One: Ashes of A God

The rain was cold, soaking through the thin fabric of his shirt, but Kael Draven didn’t feel it. His senses were still catching up, struggling to reconcile the bitter sting of life in a body that wasn’t his own.

The world smelled of rot and smoke. A narrow alley stretched around him, littered with broken crates and puddles of rainwater that shimmered faintly under the flickering lantern light. His head throbbed, and when he lifted his hand to touch it, his fingers came away slick with blood.

“Still alive?”

The voice was mocking.

Kael blinked through the haze, and three figures came into view, a gang of boys barely older than this body he now inhabited. One twirled a crude dagger; another spat on the ground. They were laughing, their faces blurry but their cruelty unmistakable.

This wasn’t his first death, nor his first ambush, but this body’s memories surged unbidden, drowning him in flashes of shame and fear. These weren’t strangers. They were classmates, young cultivators from a minor sect. The boy he now inhabited had been their favorite target, a  failure, a “cripple,” a disgrace to his family name. Tonight, they’d beaten him until his breath had faltered, then left him in the rain like trash.

And that was where Kael’s soul found him.

A sharp laugh cut through the downpour. “Told you he wouldn’t last, weakling.”

Kael’s eyes opened fully and in that moment, centuries of rage stared back at them.

He rose slowly, swaying on his feet. His new body trembled with exhaustion, but Kael’s mind was as sharp as ever. Every nerve burned, but it wasn’t weakness he felt, it was fury.

“Who… are you looking at like that, trash?” the dagger-wielder snarled, taking a step closer.

Kael’s lips curved into the barest ghost of a smile. “You,” he rasped, his voice hoarse but steady.

The boy lunged. The blade flashed in the lantern light. Kael sidestepped, not gracefully, but efficiently and grabbed the attacker’s wrist. The boy yelped, startled by the sudden strength in the cripple’s grip. Kael twisted sharply, snapping the bone with a wet crack.

The other two froze.

Kael moved before they could react, snatching the dagger as it clattered to the ground. The rain was loud now, drowning their panicked breaths as Kael slashed across the second boy’s leg, severing tendon. He dropped with a scream.

“Run!” the last one shouted, but Kael was already on him. A kick sent the boy sprawling into a puddle. Kael crouched low, pressing the dagger to the boy’s throat.

“Pathetic,” Kael said softly. “Even after a thousand years, mortals are still this weak.”

The boy didn’t understand, but terror filled his eyes. Kael let him see it, that cold, ancient fury glowing on his own. Then he drove the dagger into the boy’s shoulder, pinning him to the ground.

“I’ll let you live,” Kael murmured, standing. “So you can tell the others. Tell them I’m done playing dead.”

The boy sobbed, scrambling away. The others limped after him, leaving Kael alone in the rain.

He breathed deeply, steadying himself. His body was frail, but his soul… his soul was whole again. And with it came memory.

A palace of jade and gold. The screams of gods dying. A betrayal sharper than any blade. The hands of his closest allies plunging swords into his back.

Kael’s fists clenched.

“Not again.”

He had been Kael Draven, the Godslayer. He had torn down empires, forged cultivation paths that defied the heavens, and ascended beyond mortal limits. And yet, even he had fallen, betrayed, shattered, erased from history. Now, centuries later, he had returned.

His head tilted as a faint chime echoed in his mind, like a drop of water in a still pond.

System of Vengeance Initiated.

Host recognized: Kael Draven, Reincarnated Entity.

Mission 1: Reclaim what was lost.

Reward: Restoration of Core Energy (1%.)

Kael’s lips curved upward. A system? That was new.

He closed his eyes, feeling warmth bloom in his core. A trickle of power, barely a spark compared to what he’d once wielded, but enough to light the path ahead.

“Good,” he murmured. “We’ll start small.”

He rifled through the boy’s memories as he staggered out of the alley. The kingdom he found himself in was called Valewind, a minor territory in the Mortal Realm. His body belonged to Kael Varin, youngest son of a disgraced noble house, sent to a sect at thirteen, branded a failure, and abandoned. 

The boy’s life had been nothing but mockery and humiliation, his cultivation crippled by a wound no healer could fix.

Until tonight.

Kael touched his chest, feeling the faint hum of restored energy. That injury was already healing, overwritten by the power of a soul that had once split mountains with a single strike.

The streets were empty, the storm having driven most citizens indoors. He limped through winding alleys until he reached a small, rundown inn. The innkeeper barely glanced up as Kael tossed him a few copper coins, this body’s last remaining wealth and took a key.

In the privacy of a dim, creaky room, Kael lit a single candle and sat cross-legged on the floor. His eyes closed, and for the first time since his death, he meditated.

The familiar rhythm of cultivation surged back to him like an old melody. Spirit energy flowed sluggishly through his meridians, weak and brittle from years of neglect, but Kael’s control was flawless. 

He coaxed the energy gently, guiding it like a sculptor shaping clay. The System chimed softly in his mind with every breath.

Energy restored: 2%.

New quest: Locate the Fallen Star Relic.

Hint: Lies within Valewind Sect’s abandoned mines.

Kael chuckled. “You’re helpful.”

The System didn’t respond. That was fine. He preferred silence.

By dawn, the storm had passed, and so had the last traces of Kael Varin’s weakness. The boy who had died in an alley was gone. In his place sat a man who had slain gods.

Kael rose, adjusting the threadbare robe on his shoulders. His steps were slow but steady as he left the inn and headed for the marketplace. He needed supplies, information, and a weapon, anything better than the rusted dagger still tucked in his belt.

The city was waking. Merchants barked prices from stalls, guards patrolled lazily, and children darted between wagons. No one spared Kael a second glance. That was good. The less attention, the better.

But attention found him anyway.

“Varin?”

Kael turned to find a young man blocking his path. He wore the robes of the Valewind Sect, marked with the insignia of a junior disciple. His sneer was all too familiar, Kael Varin’s memories supplied a name: Derrin Jahl, one of his tormentors.

“Well, well,” Derrin drawled. “Didn’t expect to see you alive. Thought you’d bled out in the gutter like the trash you are.”

Kael’s expression didn’t change.

“You look different,” Derrin continued, circling him like a predator. “What happened? Crawl back to your daddy’s estate? Beg for coins?”

Kael said nothing. He studied Derrin’s movements instead, noting the way his hand hovered near the sword at his hip.

“You know,” Derrin said, voice lowering, “the sect’s tournament is next week, not that you’d dare show your face. You’d get crushed again, like always.”

Kael’s lips curved slightly. “We’ll see.”

Derrin blinked, startled by the calm confidence in his voice. Then his face twisted in anger.

“You…”

Kael moved. In one smooth motion, he closed the distance, seized Derrin’s wrist, and twisted. The sword clattered to the ground. Kael kicked Derrin’s knee out from under him, sending him sprawling.

“Still weak,” Kael murmured, pressing a foot to his chest. “Tell your friends. Tell them I’m done hiding.”

Derrin’s eyes widened as Kael leaned down, voice soft but lethal.

“And next time you see me… bow.”

Kael released him, stepping away. Derrin scrambled back, pale and shaken.

Kael turned and vanished into the crowd.

That night, rumors spread through Valewind: the crippled noble had changed. Something was different. Something dangerous.

In a forgotten corner of the city, deep beneath abandoned mines, a faint glow pulsed from a hidden cavern,a relic waiting to be claimed.

And in the shadows above, unseen eyes watched Kael’s every move.

The Godslayer had returned.