Artifacts. Trinkets of immense power, their allure often outweighed by their devastating costs. Magic. A force of endless possibilities, shaping reality with a mere thought. For the people of this timeline, it was as ordinary as sipping water or brushing their teeth. But for Kellan Veyra, it was an enigma. A staircase leading into an infinite darkness, each step more uncertain than the last.

"Okay, Mom, I'm going now!" Kellan's small voice rang through the house as he barreled down the stairs, his tiny feet hammering the wood like a frantic drumroll.

His mother's voice floated back, warm and cheerful. "Okay, honey! Be back soon!"

At just five years old, Kellan had grown accustomed to his unusual reality—or at least he thought he had. The burning question still plagued him: Why had the artifact sent him here? This timeline wasn't his own. It felt like a cosmic prank, a cruel joke played by an uncaring universe. And Plenthota… that cursed, arrogant ball of energy… It had destroyed his original world and cast him here.

From the moment he had arrived, Kellan had thrown himself into books, determined to learn everything he could. But this timeline mocked him at every turn. His father? A complete deadbeat, the kind of guy who hit the eject button on responsibility faster than a plane in freefall. It stung, knowing how different his real dad had been—steadfast, supportive, and kind. His mom, thankfully, was the one constant, her warmth a rare comfort in this strange world.

Still, everything else was a mystery. He scratched his head as the weight of his situation bore down on him. Would his knowledge from the original timeline be useful here? Or had the artifact rewritten the rules entirely?

One thing was clear: artifacts were the key. If he was going to survive—no, if he was going to thrive—he needed to find the strongest ones before anyone else. He still remembered the scene that changed everything.

Flashback: Kellan Veyra, 4 years old

Kellan sat curled up in his small bed, the mattress sagging slightly beneath his weight. It wasn't much, but it was home—or at least, it was now. His eyes were shut, his breathing steady, when a sharp voice shattered the silence.

"…Wake up."

At first, he thought it was part of a dream. He groaned, rolling over and pulling the blanket tighter around him.

"Wake up, you fool!"

His eyes snapped open, his heart hammering in his chest. Hovering in the dim light of his room was a pulsating orb of energy, glowing faintly like a malevolent firefly.

Kellan froze. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

"Don't just sit there gawking," the voice snapped. "We've met before, haven't we?"

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

"Wha… what are you?" he finally managed to croak.

The orb flickered, almost like it was laughing at him. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me you've forgotten me already. It's me—Plenthota. The one who sent you here. You miss me?"

Kellan's blood ran cold. His mind raced, but he couldn't form a coherent thought.

"I knew that thing was cursed," he muttered, barely audible.

Plenthota's glow brightened, its tone turning smug. "Oh, I can hear you loud and clear, human. And yes, I am cursed—or blessed, depending on who you ask. Either way, I'm the one who ended your last timeline."

Kellan's stomach twisted into knots. "You… you're the reason humanity was wiped out? You created The Wretched?"

"Guilty as charged," Plenthota said nonchalantly. "Though I must say, you humans do love giving dramatic names to things."

Kellan's fists clenched the blanket beneath him. Rage boiled in his chest, but he forced himself to stay calm. If this thing was powerful enough to destroy timelines, picking a fight with it now would be suicide.

"Why me?" he asked, his voice trembling. "Why was I the only one left alive?"

Plenthota pulsed with amusement. "Because I needed someone to play with, and you just happened to fit the bill."

Kellan's teeth ground together. He wanted to scream, to hurl every insult he could think of, but he knew it wouldn't do any good.

"Did you destroy us because of the artifacts?" he pressed. "Or was it just for fun?"

"Hmm… a little of both," Plenthota said with a shrug—or what Kellan imagined was a shrug. "But don't worry, all your questions will be answered in time. For now, entertain me. Unless, of course, you want this timeline to go kapoof, too."

Kellan glared at the orb, hatred burning in his eyes. "I'll kill you," he growled.

Plenthota's light flickered, as if grinning. "Good! That's the spirit! Now try your best, little ant. I'll be watching… and making things harder for you every step of the way."

With that, the orb vanished, leaving Kellan alone in the darkness.

Present Day: Kellan, 5 years old

The memory still sent a chill down Kellan's spine. As he wandered down the dirt path outside his home, he tried to push the encounter from his mind. But it was no use.

He clenched his tiny fists. If Plenthota thought he was just a "speck of dust," then he'd prove the artifact wrong. Somehow, he'd find a way to beat it—and he'd do it using the very artifacts Plenthota had scattered across this world.

His mind raced with the locations of the strongest artifacts, places he remembered from his old timeline. Most hadn't been discovered yet in this world, but it was only a matter of time before they were. He could almost see them in his mind's eye:

The Sunken Temple in the Southern Isles, where the Orb of Vitalis was rumored to rest, capable of healing any wound. The Ruins of Keplar, where the Blade of Eternity lay buried, said to cut through anything.The Hollow Woods, home to the Cloak of Shadows, an artifact that rendered its wearer invisible.

Each location was dangerous, even in his original world. But now? Without magic, he'd have to rely on his wits and whatever tools he could scavenge. The thought stung—magic flowed so easily for everyone else, but for him, it was as if the universe had locked the door and thrown away the key. Perhaps his soul didn't belong here. Maybe it was incompatible with the laws of this timeline.

Kellan kicked a rock, watching it skid across the path. No use dwelling on it. If he couldn't use magic, then he'd just have to outsmart everyone else. And he'd start by tracking down the first artifact on his mental list.

A sly grin tugged at the corners of his lips. Let the world underestimate him. After all, what could a five-year-old possibly do?

"Just wait, Plenthota," he muttered under his breath. "You wanted a game? Fine. But I don't play to lose."

With that, he picked up his pace, his small frame almost comical against the vast expanse of the road ahead.

This world didn't know it yet, but Kellan Veyra was about to change everything.