MTL NOVEL Chapter 3: Chapter-3
Kael stepped through the ruined doorway and into the open world for the first time in centuries. The scent of fresh air hit him immediately—earthy, damp, carrying the crispness of an overcast sky. It was a stark contrast to the stale, alchemical air of the underground chamber where he had awoken. The ruins had been built into a rocky hillside, half-consumed by creeping vines and gnarled roots. Behind him, the doorway was barely visible through the overgrowth, as if nature itself had tried to erase its existence. Before him stretched a forest—vast, ancient, and unknowable. The towering trees swayed in the wind, their branches groaning as they reached toward the sky. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the soft babbling of a stream. No signs of human life. No distant roads. No campfire smoke curling into the sky.
Nothing but wilderness.
Kael exhaled slowly and pressed his fingers to his temple. His thoughts were still a tangled mess. The memories that filled his head felt like his own, yet detached—as if they belonged to someone else. The body he now inhabited was strong, well-trained, but unfamiliar. The instincts of a Witcher were there, ingrained deep within him. But the world?
The world was a mystery.
What year was it? What lands lay beyond this forest? Did Witchers still walk the Continent, or had they faded into legend?
He clenched his fists. He needed answers.
But first, he needed to survive.
His satchel was light—a few old potions, some dried herbs, a research log from the laboratory. No weapons except the dagger at his belt. No food. No direction.
He took another breath and forced himself to focus. Priorities.
His red eyes scanned the treeline. He wasn't alone. Distant footsteps. Careful. Trained. Three of them. Kael immediately dropped into a low crouch, pressing himself against the rocky hillside. He didn't need to see them to know they were close. And then voices.
"Tracks end here." A gruff, older voice. Experienced.
"The beast was real. You saw the signs same as I did. But this ruin… doesn't feel right." A younger voice, but steadier.
A third voice, uncertain. "You think it's cursed?"
"Everything in this damn land is cursed."
Kael remained perfectly still. They weren't talking about him. They were tracking something. The creature he had killed? Or something else that had escaped the ruins? They lingered for a few moments longer before their voices began to fade. They were leaving.
Kael exhaled.
He had a choice. Follow them from a distance. They knew more than he did—about the land, the dangers, the way of the world. If he was careful, he could learn without being seen. Return to the ruins and search for more supplies. He was still weak, still unprepared. If the past had left anything useful behind, now was the time to find it. Or leave. The forest was vast, and he had no ties to this place. If he moved now, he could avoid trouble and find answers on his own terms.
Whatever he chose, one thing was certain. The world would not remain a mystery for long.
He waited until the last trace of the hunters' presence disappeared. Only when the forest had settled back into silence did he exhale and ease away from the rock where he had been hiding.
He wasn't ready to step into the world just yet.
He turned back toward the ruins. There was still much he didn't understand about himself, about this place—about the Witcher whose body he now inhabited. If there were more answers to be found, they would be within those decayed halls, buried beneath dust and time. With careful steps, he retraced his path, slipping back into the darkened corridors.
Inside, the air was colder, thick with the scent of mold and forgotten chemicals. The soft crunch of his boots against the dirt-covered stone echoed faintly through the empty halls. There were no torches, no light beyond the faint glow of the outside world filtering through cracks in the structure.
He needed to be methodical. Supplies first, answers second.
Kael moved toward what he assumed had once been the main laboratory—where he had awakened. The shattered containment pods, the rusted chains, the alchemical tools scattered across the stone tables—it was all still there. His own pod, cracked and lined with ancient runes, stood among the others.
Who had created this place? And why had he been abandoned? He shook the thought away and focused. Search. Survive. Understand. His eyes scanned the room for anything useful.
Alchemical ingredients—some dried, others reduced to dust. He picked out a few that still held potency.
A rusted short sword, half-buried beneath debris. Useless in a real fight, but better than nothing.
A leather-bound notebook. The same one he had found earlier—a research log from his creators. He flipped through the pages, scanning the faded ink.
"...the mutation process is unstable. Subject 11 has survived the trials, yet his body's response remains unpredictable..."
"...unique traits emerging, though full potential unknown. Time will tell if the investment was worth it..."
"...laboratory abandoned. No orders. No retrieval. They have left us."
Kael exhaled slowly. He had been forgotten. Left behind like a failed experiment, buried beneath the ruins of time. Yet here he was, awake, alive, and stronger than he had any right to be.
What had they done to him?
He closed the notebook and tucked it into his satchel. He needed more. More supplies. More knowledge. More understanding of the power coursing through his veins. And most importantly—a way forward.
The past could only give him so much. The world outside was waiting.