ã€ŠFox-Hound Maiden Of The Apocalypseã€‹


 Chapter 1;: Fox Devil

    (Kingdom of Elu)

    The golden light of Elu¡¯s eternal sun stretched across the vast, emerald fields, its warmth bathing the sprawling gardens in an ever-present glow. The kingdom had never known a night; darkness was a foreign concept, a forgotten dream in a land where the sky was an endless canvas of soft gold and brilliant white. Above, far beyond the sight of most, celestial artisans wove the heavens together. Beings of delicate, elongated forms, their skin shimmering like molten silver and deep sapphire, moved with slow grace as they sculpted the clouds into flowing, rolling formations. They were known as the Vaytherii, shapers of the skies and clouds, weavers of the upper realm, their hands forever at work ensuring the kingdom never lacked for beauty.

    And sitting atop the large sky, was a large black sphere, a mysterious sphere that no one really knows about, or where it came from. Not even knowing what it¡¯s made of. Magic? Stone?

    Below, amongst the tangled flora and rich, fragrant air, Kylas wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of a dirt-streaked hand. The young gardener, no older than twenty, stood amid a flourishing patch of his own making, dressed in a simple tunic and trousers that bore the stains of the earth he worked. His red hair, spiked and shaved into an undercut, burned like embers in the sunlight, and his light brown eyes, filled with focus, trailed the length of his latest task. A small scar ran beneath his left eye, a remnant of past conflict, though he carried it as one might a trophy rather than a flaw.

    Before him, his creations stirred with life. The Vaelithni Blooms, towering stalks crowned with translucent petals, hummed faintly when brushed by the breeze, their colors shifting from deep violet to bright amber depending on the wind¡¯s strength. A cluster of Mournshade Lilies, dark blue with luminous veins running through their petals, trembled slightly as they absorbed the excess light, their bioluminescent glow dimming and strengthening in response. Further down, the Ironroot Brambles, a twisting, thorny mass of deep crimson, curled their spiked vines towards the earth whenever Kylas approached, recognizing the one who tended them.

    He knelt, pressing his calloused hands into the soil, murmuring under his breath. He did not merely water these plants, nor did he rely on conventional methods to nurture them. He had discovered long ago that some flora responded to song, others to warmth, and some to the simple touch of another living thing. As he reached out, his fingers brushing along the leaves of the Starveil Creepers, the ivy-like tendrils quivered and unraveled, stretching toward the sun. He exhaled slowly, then reached for a nearby bottle, tilting it carefully to let loose a single drop of the dark green liquid inside. The Creepers absorbed it instantly, their silvery veins flaring with renewed energy.

    Not content to tend only to what was already thriving, Kylas grabbed a worn shovel, its handle smooth from years of use, and strode toward an untouched patch of earth. He drove the blade deep, turning the soil with slow, deliberate movements. The act of creation, of forming something out of nothing, was one of the few things that quieted his mind. As he reached for a handful of seeds, the light behind him wavered¡ªtwo looming figures casting elongated shadows over the freshly tilled ground.

    Kylas stiffened, his grip on the shovel tightening. Without turning, he already knew who had come to pester him.

    He sighed through his nose, finally glancing over his shoulder.

    Two armored beings stood there, empty of flesh or bone, yet moving as though they were alive. The first was large, his armor wide and rounded, built like a fortress of thick plates with oversized pauldrons and a barrel chest. The dark steel gleamed with a red tint, as if fire had kissed its edges. The second was his opposite¡ªelegant and sleek, draped in an intricate design of grey and gold, moving with an almost effortless grace. Where the first was a towering behemoth, the second was a flowing specter of motion.

    Neither spoke. They never did.

    But their actions made up for it.

    The bulky one¡ªthe clumsier of the two¡ªgestured grandly at the garden, as if offering some great service, his large, gauntleted hands moving in exaggerated, sweeping motions. The elegant one, unimpressed, shook his head and folded his arms, a clear expression of disapproval in the tilt of his posture.

    Kylas clicked his tongue. ¡°No.¡±

    The larger knight immediately turned toward the slender one, throwing up his hands in what could only be described as exaggerated exasperation. The slimmer figure merely tilted his head in response, before offering a slow, measured shrug, as if to say, Well, we tried.

    ¡°Don¡¯t ¡®well, we tried¡¯ me,¡± Kylas growled, pointing a dirt-streaked finger at them. ¡°Every time you two come near the garden, something catches fire, or drowns, or¡ª¡± He gestured vaguely to a still-recovering patch of ground where a blackened, charred outline of a once-flourishing plant remained. ¡°Last time, I didn''t even know what you did, but I¡¯m pretty sure I heard the flowers screaming and shit. Scared the hell out of me.¡±

    The armored beings exchanged glances, their helmets tilting in silent conversation. Then, as if reaching an unspoken agreement, the larger one stepped forward and mimicked digging into the earth, while the slimmer one mimed carefully planting something with an air of dramatic precision.

    Kylas narrowed his eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t care how careful you think you are. Just buzz off before¡ª¡±

    The bulkier knight suddenly slumped, his shoulders lowering in a comically exaggerated display of disappointment. The elegant one followed suit, their body language shifting in a way that, somehow, somehow, conveyed both dejection and smug satisfaction at the same time.

    Kylas exhaled sharply through his nose, rubbing his temple. ¡°¡­Fine. Just don¡¯t start fighting like lunatics.¡±

    The slimmer knight perked up slightly, straightening with an unmistakable air of victory, while the larger one tilted his helmet back in a way that might have been a smirk if he had a face.

    Scoffing, Kylas turned back to his work, muttering under his breath. They would linger, as they always did. He knew better than to think they would actually leave.

    And high above, unseen by those below, the Vaytherii continued their work, shaping the sky, whispering among themselves as they crafted another formation, their silken voices weaving the next cloud into being.

    The path Kylas walked was well-worn, his boots pressing into the rich soil as he made his way toward the edge of the garden, where the land met the invisible threshold that kept him bound. With each step, the world around him pulsed with life, his creations thriving in their sunlit sanctuary.

    To his left, the Evershaden Bells stood tall, their spiraled, glass-like petals swaying despite the absence of wind. Each one held a droplet of golden nectar at its center, a substance so sweet that even the air around them carried a faint, honeyed scent. Further ahead, a patch of Ashvine Thistles coiled around twisted wooden posts, their deep onyx petals pulsing faintly as they drank in the warmth, their leaves covered in a fine, shimmering dust that repelled pests but attracted soft, silver-winged moths known as Noctis Flits.

    Kylas¡¯ fingers trailed against the broad leaves of the Sable Crown Shrubs, each one patterned with veins that glowed in rhythmic pulses¡ªlike a heartbeat, like something alive beyond just its roots. In the corner of his eye, the Lunadew Clovers, small and unassuming, curled inward as he passed, their luminescent specks dimming shyly as if embarrassed by his attention.

    Yet none of them mattered. Not really.

    As he reached the edge of the garden, where the plants ceased to grow and the untouched, wild earth stretched beyond, something inside him twisted. A sharp, white-hot pain struck through his skull, as if a spike had been driven between his eyes. He winced, staggering slightly, his vision blurring at the edges before a warm trickle slid down from his nose.

    ¡°Crap,¡± he hissed, pressing the back of his hand against his face. When he pulled it away, a smear of crimson streaked his fingers. ¡°Tch..¡±

    His breaths came sharp, anger curling inside his chest as he gritted his teeth. His fingers dug into his scalp as if pressing hard enough would stop the pounding in his skull. It wouldn¡¯t. It never did.

    ¡°This is because of you two, you know,¡± he growled under his breath, glaring at nothing, his voice laced with bitter frustration. ¡°Too dangerous, they said. Can¡¯t be trusted, they said. So what do they do? They slap some voodoo bullshit on this place and trap me here like some caged animal¡­¡± His voice deepened, sharp and biting. ¡°And for what? They were blacksmiths, Not mages, not scholars, blacksmiths. What the hell did they do? Smelt iron with their feelings?¡±

    His breath shuddered as he exhaled, the pain subsiding into a dull throb, leaving only the raw edges of frustration in its wake. Slowly, he sank to the ground, knees bent, hands dragging through his red hair. His back rested against the unseen barrier, the magical seal no doubt etched into his skin thrumming dully, keeping him tethered.

    ¡®It¡¯s annoying honestly¡­it¡¯s been a few weeks since my parents just vanished¡­leaving me here.¡¯

    Just beyond that invisible wall, a single rose stood from the ground, swaying gently in the breeze.

    Its petals were a deep, wine-red, its stem long and unbroken. It had been there for as long as he could remember, just out of reach. Untouched. Unchanged.

    Kylas narrowed his eyes at it.

    ¡°The hell are you staring at?¡±

    The rose, of course, didn¡¯t respond. It never did.

    He scoffed, leaning his head back against the barrier with a dull thud. ¡°You¡¯re lucky, you know that?¡± he muttered, voice quieter now. ¡°You get to be free. No invisible chains, no headaches, no blood dripping from your nose every time you try to leave. You get to just be.¡± His jaw clenched. ¡°Meanwhile, I sit here and rot.¡±

    His fingers curled against his knee.

    ¡°Everyone knows not to come near the garden,¡± he muttered, his voice taking on an edge of something raw, something bitter. ¡°My parents made damn sure of that before they died, running around Elu like lunatics, screaming about how nobody should come near me or the garden, how dangerous I was.¡± His throat tightened, but his voice didn¡¯t waver. ¡°And they listened. Every single one of them. Like good little sheep.¡±

    His eyes flickered to the rose again, watching as it swayed, oblivious to the weight of his words.

    ¡°¡­They think I¡¯m a monster.¡± His voice was barely above a whisper. ¡°And maybe they¡¯re right. Maybe I¡¯m not worthy of anything good. Anything soft. Anything that stays.¡± His fingers dug into the dirt beside him. ¡°Maybe the only beauty I¡¯ll ever get to have is you.¡±

    Silence.

    He exhaled sharply through his nose, tilting his head up toward the endless sky.

    ¡°¡­If you ever die,¡± he murmured, ¡°if you leave me alone too¡­ I don¡¯t know. Maybe I¡¯ll finally just say ¡®screw it¡¯ and become the monster they¡¯re all so afraid of.¡±

    ¡®That¡¯s the thing..I don¡¯t wanna lose myself before I find out what the hell is wrong with me. Or before I can actually make myself feel like I¡¯m actually living.¡¯

    He sat there for a long moment, letting the words settle, letting them sit heavy in the golden air.

    And then¡ª

    The ground thudded. A weight slammed into his side, then another, practically knocking him over as thick, armored limbs encased him in a clumsy, forceful embrace.

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Kylas let out a strangled grunt, his hands barely catching himself before he collapsed entirely under the combined weight of two metal-clad idiots. ¡°What the¡ª¡±

    Gunthr, the massive, bulky one, squeezed even tighter, his thick, plated arms wrapping around Kylas with an absurd amount of strength, while Zedlock, the slender one, dramatically draped himself over Kylas¡¯ shoulder like some tragic figure in a play.

    ¡°I-AGH! What¡ªwhat is wrong with you two?!¡± Kylas barked, squirming under their weight.

    Gunthr pulled back just enough to jab a thick, gauntleted finger toward the wooden house on the other side of the garden. His hand trembled slightly, his other arm still latched around Kylas like a lifeline. Zedlock, equally dramatic, pointed as well, his entire form trembling with exaggerated terror.

    Kylas squinted. ¡°¡­The hell are you pointing at?¡±

    Gunthr gestured again, more frantic this time. Zedlock mimicked him, practically shaking him by the shoulders.

    Then it clicked.

    Kylas groaned, dragging a hand down his face. ¡°It¡¯s a rat, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Gunthr recoiled, nodding aggressively. Zedlock, ever the theatrical one, threw both arms up in horror, his entire body language screaming YES, OBVIOUSLY, WE ARE GOING TO DIE.

    Kylas scoffed. ¡°You¡¯re both supposed to be sentient suits of armor. What are you scared of a rat for?¡±

    Gunthr crossed his arms, shifting in a way that somehow communicated principle. Zedlock, ever the graceful coward, simply shook his head with slow, solemn understanding, as if to say some things are worse than death, Kylas.

    Kylas groaned, shoving them off him as he pushed himself to his feet. ¡°You two are hopeless. Absolutely useless.¡±

    Gunthr, clearly unbothered, gave an enthusiastic thumbs up. Zedlock, with all the grace of an offended noble, dusted himself off and adjusted an invisible monocle, as if rising above the insult.

    Kylas rolled his eyes.

    ¡°¡­Fine. I¡¯ll deal with the rat.¡±

    Kylas strode toward the house, Gunthr and Zedlock trailing closely behind, their heavy footfalls muted against the soil. His mind, however, was already elsewhere, turning over the supposed rat problem like a whetstone against the edge of his patience.

    Rats weren¡¯t unusual here, but they weren¡¯t the scrawny, skittering things one might expect. These creatures, Veilgnaws, were eerily intelligent, their bodies wreathed in thin, wispy tendrils that allowed them to slip through impossibly small spaces. Their eyes, lidless and violet, reflected too much light, always seeming to watch, always aware. More than mere pests, Veilgnaws were rumored to be something else¡ªnot quite natural, not quite spirit, something caught between the weave of this world and the next. They whispered. Scratched symbols into wood with clawed feet. Left offerings of bone and silver in corners as if bargaining for their place among the living.

    And Kylas hated them.

    Not because they were pests, but because they seemed to understand something he didn¡¯t. Something about the world. Something about him.

    And maybe that was why, as he reached the threshold of his home, his eyes lifted¡ªdrawn, as always, to the vast black sphere that hovered in the sky.

    It had always been there.

    A massive, unshifting void against the endless sunlit expanse of Nyxhelm sky. It did not move, did not stir, did not pulse with energy or light. It simply was. And no one knew why.

    Even the gods and goddesses who ruled over the Ten Kingdoms¡ªthose ancient, celestial beings who had claimed it as their origin. ¡°We are from the Sphere,¡± they had declared, and that was all they had ever given as an answer.

    But the Sphere?

    The Sphere was real.

    And every time he looked at it, something deep inside him stirred. Not fear. Not awe. Something familiar. Something he refused to name, because he couldn¡¯t. He shook his head, exhaling sharply through his nose before stepping inside the wooden house¡ª

    And immediately froze.

    So did Gunthr and Zedlock.

    There, sitting at his table with an air of effortless grace, was a fox-kin woman.

    ¡®Whoa¡­she¡¯s¡­¡¯ Kylas thoughts trailed off.

    She was elegance incarnate, her long, flowing black hair cascading in subtle waves that framed her sharp yet breathtakingly refined face. Her deep red eyes, vivid and burning with an intensity unlike anything he had ever seen, pierced through him with unsettling precision. They were framed by thick, dark lashes, making their glow seem even more unnatural, even more otherworldly.

    An intricate red tattoo, composed of ancient, curling symbols, adorned the center of her forehead, stretching toward her temples in a way that only amplified her regal, untouchable presence. Similar tribal markings, curling like bloodstained poetry, traced across her collarbone and upper chest, peeking out from beneath the fabric of her robe.

    Her wolf ears, covered in soft black fur with striking white tufts at the inner edges, twitched as if reacting to the very sound of his presence. They stood tall, poised, alert¡ªa silent declaration that she was not someone to be underestimated.

    Her robe, flowing and pristine white, was embroidered with black and crimson patterns, each stroke of the design hinting at some forgotten art. The long, billowing sleeves draped elegantly as she moved, yet the tailored fit of the robe around her waist, cinched with a delicately woven sash, gave her the unmistakable presence of someone battle-ready, despite her composed demeanor.

    She looked over at Kylas, thinking, ¡®Ugh. That¡¯s him.¡¯

    Kylas blinked.

    His brain stuttered. His face heated, his mouth opened¡ªbut for once in his life, no words came.

    And the woman?

    The woman simply sighed, looking around the room with barely concealed judgment.

    ¡°What an absolute disaster,¡± she muttered, rolling her eyes as she picked up a stack of books from the table and shuffled them into a neater pile. ¡°How do you live in such disarray? There¡¯s dust everywhere, these items are completely misplaced, and there are at least three weapons lying in completely impractical locations.¡±

    Kylas pointed at her, his face reddening further. ¡°Y-You¡ªYou can¡¯t be here! I¡¯m dangerous!¡±

    She didn¡¯t even look at him. ¡°I can, and I am. And you don¡¯t seem very dangerous. Villains at least don¡¯t hoard shit like old people.¡±

    ¡°No, you can¡¯t! This is¡ªThis is my house! You¡ªYou can¡¯t just walk in here and start touching my stuff!¡±

    Her red eyes flickered toward him, unimpressed. ¡°You don¡¯t tell me what to do. Do you know who I am?¡±

    Kylas scowled, his embarrassment boiling into frustration. ¡°Oh yeah? And who are you?¡±

    For the first time, she paused, then met his gaze fully.

    ¡°Seraph,¡± she said, her voice like silk over steel. ¡°And I am forced to be your maiden.¡±

    Kylas stared. ¡°¡­You¡¯re what?¡±

    Seraph sniffed, continuing her work. ¡°Not by choice, obviously. I have no interest in humans. I find them¡ª¡± she paused, eyeing a particularly offensive mess of parchment and tools on a nearby shelf before scoffing, ¡°¡ªdisorganized.¡±

    Kylas scowled, rushing forward as she moved a carefully placed knife from the table. ¡°Hey¡ªHey! That goes there¡ª¡±

    ¡°No, it doesn¡¯t,¡± she retorted, placing it somewhere else.

    Kylas pointed. ¡°Yes, it does.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Seraph countered smoothly, ¡°it truly, truly does not.¡±

    Gunthr and Zedlock, watching this exchange like a silent tennis match, gestured dramatically at each other, mimicking exaggerated bickering, before throwing up their hands in mock defeat.

    Then, it happened.

    Kylas reached forward¡ªjust a simple motion, an instinctual reaction to grab something before she moved it again¡ª

    And his fingertips brushed against her wrist.

    The reaction was instantaneous.

    Seraph froze.

    Her ears twitched sharply, her right eye visibly twitching.

    ¡°A human¡­touched me¡­?¡±

    She moved quick, Her palm slammed into his chest¡ªAnd Kylas went flying.

    He crashed through the wooden wall like a cannonball, planks splintering as he rolled across the ground in a heap of limbs, dirt, and absolute disbelief.

    For a moment, he lay there, staring up at the sky.

    ¡°No way she just did that¡­¡±

    Then, in a smooth motion, he flipped onto his feet, dusting himself off with a deadpan expression.

    Gunthr and Zedlock immediately lunged forward.

    Gunthr¡¯s entire arm shifted, black and gold plates twisting into place as a massive, flaming wrecking ball formed at the end of a thick, segmented chain. The surface of the sphere was covered in gnarled spikes, each one pulsing with molten veins, the entire thing wreathed in black and gold fire as he swung it with terrifying ease.

    Zedlock, by contrast, unleashed his weapon in a flash of black steel¡ªa three-sided, bladed sword, each edge curving into serrated points that pulsed with liquid gold energy. The weapon seemed to shimmer, its very presence bending the light around it as if warping reality itself.

    They lunged at Seraph, closing in fast¡ª

    And for the first time, her elegance cracked.

    A wide, manic grin split across her face.

    The world erupted.

    Gunthr soared, the golden flames swirling around his wrecking ball igniting in a titanic burst, searing the air with heat as he swung it in a devastating arc. The sheer force of it fractured the ground beneath him, the weapon moving like a comet of destruction, its molten veins pulsing with explosive energy.

    But Seraph was already in motion.

    She twisted¡ªher body gliding with effortless grace, her white robe billowing as she spun midair, the wrecking ball shaving past her by a hair¡¯s breadth. She landed seamlessly, one palm brushing the dirt, and with a whisper of movement, she vanished.

    Gunthr reacted instantly.

    He wrenched his weapon back, the golden chain screaming as it recoiled. The moment it returned, he whipped it forward again in a brutal crescent sweep, the flaming ball carving a gouge through the earth as it chased Seraph like a vengeful beast.

    She didn¡¯t retreat.

    She advanced.

    Seraph vaulted over the wrecking ball, her fingers skimming the flames as she somersaulted toward Gunthr¡ª

    And then, in a blur of motion, she was inside his guard.

    Her palm slammed into his breastplate, cracking the metal with an earth-shaking impact. The force sent Gunthr skidding back, his massive frame carving trenches into the dirt. His armor groaned, the plates buckling slightly where she had struck¡ª

    But Zedlock was already there.

    He descended like a shadow, his three-sided sword cleaving downward, its edges singing with liquid gold fire.

    Seraph¡¯s head tilted, her red eyes gleaming¡ªand she parried with her bare hand.

    A single graceful movement, and the entire force of Zedlock¡¯s strike collapsed against her open palm. Sparks cascaded in all directions as her fingers brushed the burning blade aside, the motion effortless, deliberate¡ª

    And then she retaliated.

    Her foot slammed into Zedlock¡¯s chest like a cannon shot, sending him spiraling through the air.

    Gunthr lunged forward, his wrecking ball igniting into a raging inferno, his armored boots shattering the earth as he charged. He swung in a ferocious, unrelenting flurry, the weapon whipping in arcs so fast the air combusted around it. Each impact was cataclysmic, titanic, a maelstrom of destruction¡ª

    And yet, Seraph danced through it.

    She weaved, her body bending impossibly, her feet barely touching the ground as she spun, somersaulted, arched away from every strike. She moved like flowing silk, her movements eerily precise, her grin never fading¡ª

    And then, mid-spin, she palmed Gunthr¡¯s incoming wrecking ball.

    A shockwave detonated.

    The flames collapsed, the sheer force of the impact splintering the air¡ª

    And in the same breath, she redirected the wrecking ball¡¯s momentum, swinging it back toward Gunthr himself.

    Gunthr jerked to the side, barely avoiding his own weapon, the shockwave hurling him away¡ª

    But Zedlock was back.

    The knight descended from above, his flaming three-sided sword twisting midair as he brought it down in a devastating, triple-slash sequence, each strike blurring into the next, forming a shimmering whirlwind of death.

    Seraph grinned wider, and she caught his wrist mid-strike.

    Then she wrenched him downward¡ª

    And drove her elbow into his armored helm, denting the metal with an ear-splitting boom.

    Zedlock crashed into the ground, but before Seraph could finish, Gunthr retaliated, swinging his wrecking ball in a devastating downward smash¡ª

    Seraph twisted, catching herself on one hand, her leg whipping out in a brutal axe-kick.

    The wrecking ball shattered against her foot.

    Golden flames erupted, the explosion igniting the battlefield¡ª

    And suddenly, Kylas shrieked from the sidelines, frantically batting away debris before it could hit his precious garden.

    ¡°ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!¡ªWATCH THE DAMN FLOWERS, YOU PSYCHOS!!¡±

    ¡®Gunthr and Zedlock can¡¯t die, so I¡¯m not worried about them really losing. But my garden?! I can¡¯t let anything taint it, I worked too hard on it. And it¡¯s all I really have. Who the hell is this woman? What even is she? Fox-like ears, a bushy tail¡­never heard of that kind of race. Can¡¯t deny though, she¡¯s good looking even for an evil bitch.¡¯

    Gunthr and Zedlock ignored him.

    Seraph¡¯s grin widened. Her red tattoos glowed, her eyes burning with spiraling light¡ª

    And then, her form blurred.

    A colossal pulse of power rocketed outward, the very air twisting violently as her body changed.

    ¡°Maybe I should show you all who I really am. Since you wanna be rude.¡±

    Kylas screeched like a girl from a distance, ¡°HOW WERE WE RUDE?!¡±

    ¡°You simply touched me.¡±

    Her elegant silhouette dissolved, her shape expanding, shifting, as golden runes swirled around her in celestial patterns. Her robe disintegrated into white fire, her arms elongating, her figure warping into something far beyond human¡ª

    And in her place, a massive white fox stood.

    Four tails coiled behind her, their fur cascading like divine silk, each one flickering with celestial fire. Her spiraling yellow, red, and black eyes burned like miniature suns, her curved red horns glowing with an ancient, ominous power. A golden halo materialized above her head, its light ethereal, warping the very air around it.

    The earth cracked beneath her weight, the sheer pressure of her presence sending shockwaves through the battlefield.

    Gunthr and Zedlock steeled themselves, preparing for the true fight to begin¡ª

    But then.

    Out of nowhere.

    Kylas said in shock, ¡°What the¡­Okay¡­ she can transform¡­¡±

    ¡®I can¡¯t use whatever power I have sealed anyway, so I''m defenseless until it¡¯s taken off of me. What if she really tries to kill us¡­? Would I let it all end for nothing? Not when I haven¡¯t even been able to leave this cursed garden?¡¯

    Kylas¡ªstill pissed about his garden¡ªhad casually reached out and grabbed her tail.

    ¡®I gotta calm her down! Maybe this..¡¯

    A dead silence fell over the battlefield.

    Seraph¡¯s entire massive fox form stiffened.

    Her ears twitched.

    And then¡ª

    She yelped.

    Not a ferocious, godlike roar.

    Not an earth-shattering, divine howl.

    A sharp, high-pitched, yelp.

    Her entire form exploded back into her humanoid shape, her white robe reforming, her red tattoos still glowing¡ª

    And then she spun, her face bright red, and in the blink of an eye, she had Kylas by the throat.

    ¡°NEVER DO THAT AGAIN.¡±

    Kylas, now dangling several inches off the ground, just grinned, despite the fact that she was visibly fuming.

    ¡°You¡¯re embarrassed,¡± he drawled, eyes half-lidded. ¡°You totally just¡ªI really didn¡¯t think it would work. I just tugged it trying to get your attention.¡±

    She squeezed his throat harder, her face still red.

    ¡°SILENCE.¡±

    ¡°Strange. I don¡¯t feel pain from you, but I can feel pain from other things.¡± Kylas noticed.

    Gunthr and Zedlock gestured dramatically, clearly laughing without making a single sound.

    Kylas continued, ¡°What do you want with me? And why are really here?¡±

    Seraph glared at him, her fingers tightening for a moment¡ª

    Then, with a scoff, she dropped him.

    He hit the ground with a grunt, rubbing his neck.

    Seraph dusted herself off, her red eyes piercing as she looked down at him.

    ¡°I told you already,¡± she said, her voice smooth, unyielding.

    ¡°I am from the Sphere. That giant thing in the sky.¡±

    She folded her arms, tilting her head slightly. ¡°And, whether I like it or not¡ª¡± she sighed, closing her eyes, before looking at him with undeniable finality¡ª ¡°I will be your maiden.¡±

 Chapter 2: Dreams and Nightmares

    Kylas flailed wildly, his boots dragging trenches through the dirt as he thrashed against the vice grip of Seraph¡¯s coiled tail wrapped firmly around his neck. His face was rapidly turning red, though whether from strangulation or pure unfiltered rage was up for debate.

    ¡°¡ªGODS DAMN IT, LET ME GO, YOU INSANE FOX!¡ª¡± he shrieked, fingers clawing at the velvet-soft fur constricting his throat. He might as well have been trying to break a mountain with a toothpick.

    Seraph stood behind him, completely at ease, arms folded, expression unreadable as she watched him struggle uselessly. ¡°No,¡± she said flatly.

    Kylas flung his hands up. ¡°WHAT DO YOU MEAN, NO?!¡±

    Seraph¡¯s glowing red eyes barely flickered in interest. ¡°This is for my protection,¡± she said smoothly, as if she wasn¡¯t currently strangling the life out of him with a fluffy noose.

    ¡°¡ªPROTECTION FROM WHAT?!¡±

    Seraph tilted her head, her massive black fox ears twitching. ¡°You.¡±

    Kylas froze mid-struggle, his glare snapping toward her, offended beyond belief. ¡°ME?!¡±

    ¡°You are unpredictable,¡± Seraph said casually, flicking an imaginary speck of dust off her pristine sleeve. ¡°Violent. Dangerous. I have deemed it necessary to restrain you in case you attempt anything¡­ lewd. You even said yourself how dangerous you were.¡±

    A long, suffocating silence followed.

    Kylas¡¯s eye twitched. ¡°Excuse me¡­?¡±

    Seraph blinked at him, unbothered. ¡°Or maim me.¡±

    ¡°WHY WOULD I DO EITHER OF THOSE THINGS?!¡±

    Seraph gave a slight shrug, her tail tightening slightly, making him wheeze. ¡°Because you are Kylas Veyne.¡±

    Kylas wheezed harder, furiously gesturing at her with whatever limited range of movement he still had. ¡°I swear to the gods¡ªI¡¯m gonna¡ªI¡¯m gonna¡ª¡±

    ¡°Behead me?¡± Seraph asked politely.

    Kylas¡¯s teeth clenched. ¡°YES.¡±

    Seraph nodded once. ¡°That is precisely why I have taken precautionary measures.¡±

    Kylas screamed.

    Meanwhile, in the far corner of the garden, two fully armored knights, feared across battlefields, wielders of golden fire, men who had survived wars that toppled empires, were currently clutching each other for dear life, shaking like wet cats.

    Gunthr¡¯s massive, hulking frame was pressed against Zedlock¡¯s, his gold-plated gauntlets clutching his friend¡¯s arm as he stared in absolute terror at the scene before him. His bottom lip quivered.

    Zedlock, usually stoic and unflappable, now had his helmet slightly tilted down, as if hiding from reality. His fingers trembled against Gunthr¡¯s arm.

    Neither of them spoke.

    Neither of them dared to intervene.

    They had seen enough.

    Seraph let out a small breath, finally shifting her gaze toward the endless void in the sky¡ªthe Black Sphere.

    Nyxthys.

    ¡°The Womb of Forgotten Gods,¡± she murmured.

    Kylas, still choking, groaned. ¡°Great, cool¡ªmystical name¡ªCAN YOU STOP STRANGLING ME FIRST?¡±

    Seraph ignored him.

    ¡°A celestial wound in the sky, vast and unblinking,¡± she continued, her voice low, steady, as if reciting something etched into the marrow of her bones. ¡°It is said to be the birthplace of the gods and goddesses who now rule the fractured kingdoms below.¡±

    She paused, eyes narrowing slightly.

    ¡°Yet, none truly understand its origins. Legends whisper that it is not a birthplace¡ª¡±

    Her fingers tightened slightly at her sleeve.

    ¡°But a prison.¡±

    Kylas stopped struggling.

    He blinked.

    Then squinted up at the sphere, then back at Seraph.

    ¡°¡­The hell is that supposed to mean?¡± he asked, warily, genuinely intrigued despite himself.

    Seraph¡¯s tail twitched, still coiled around his neck. ¡°It means the world of Nyxhelm is not as it seems.¡±

    ¡°¡­That¡¯s not an answer,¡± Kylas deadpanned.

    Seraph continued anyway.

    ¡°The world is divided into ten great kingdoms, each ruled by a deity born from Nyxthys. These beings, known as the Ethelen, are worshipped as benevolent protectors. They grant blessings, perform miracles, and promise an eternal paradise for their faithful.¡±

    She scoffed, her gaze sharpening.

    ¡°But beneath their divine splendor, they are nothing more than predatory beings. They do not protect mortals.¡±

    Her red eyes flashed.

    ¡°They consume them.¡±

    Kylas frowned. ¡°Consume¡­?¡±

    Seraph nodded. ¡°They feed off faith. Devotion. The worship of humans fuels their power. And their ultimate goal? To reshape the world into a utopia of divinity, where only those of divine lineage may exist.¡±

    Kylas¡¯s expression darkened slightly, realizing what she was implying.

    ¡°They want to wipe out humanity,¡± he muttered.

    Seraph inclined her head.

    ¡°And to accomplish this,¡± she continued, ¡°they mate with mortals, producing a race of Demi-Ethelen¡ªpowerful demigods who rule as their enforcers. The common people, blind to the truth, offer themselves willingly, believing it to be an honor to bear divine offspring.¡±

    Kylas exhaled slowly, processing. ¡°And let me guess¡ª¡± he looked at her, flatly. ¡°You¡¯re one of them?¡±

    Seraph¡¯s tail tightened again. ¡°No, fool!¡±

    Kylas wheezed loudly. ¡°¡ªTHAT WAS A QUESTION, NOT A THREAT, YOU PSYCHOTIC FU¡ª!¡±

    Seraph loosened her grip slightly, looking unimpressed. ¡°I am from the Sphere,¡± she said, calmly, as if that somehow answered everything.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t,¡± Kylas snapped, still kicking his legs uselessly. ¡°You¡¯re still dodging the important question¡ªwhy the hell are you here?! What¡¯s this whole ¡®maiden¡¯ thing?!¡±

    Seraph exhaled, looking at him as if he were a particularly dim-witted child.

    ¡°You are Kylas,¡± she said simply.

    Kylas stared at her, unmoving, expression blank.

    ¡°Okay. And?¡±

    ¡°You require a maiden.¡±

    Kylas blinked.

    ¡°WHY?!¡±

    Seraph tilted her head, ears flicking. ¡°Because I said so.¡±

    Kylas opened his mouth.

    Paused.

    Shut it again.

    Then, slowly, painfully, ran a hand down his face.

    ¡°¡ªThis is gonna be a long conversation,¡± he muttered, exasperated.

    The air felt heavier now, thick with something unspoken, something ancient. The garden shivered, as if the flowers themselves could feel the weight of Seraph¡¯s words. The petals of the lunar blooms¡ªthose pale, ghostly flowers that only opened under the fractured moon¡ªtilted toward her, their silver hues darkening, as though absorbing the truth she was about to unveil.

    Seraph stood before Kylas, her piercing red eyes gleaming like smoldering embers in the dim light. Her tail, still coiled lightly around his neck, pulsed with a strange warmth. Her expression was unreadable¡ªneither sorrowful nor cruel, but something deeper.

    ¡°Long ago, the Maidens of Nyxthys emerged.¡± Her voice was smooth, almost detached, yet it carried an echo of something vast¡ªsomething beyond time itself. ¡°Unlike the Ethelen, we were not gods. We were something else¡ªNyxthys¡¯s lost daughters. The ones who saw through the illusion.¡±

    Her gaze darkened.

    ¡°We sought to unravel the divine conspiracy. To bring an end to the false gods. To return everything to its rightful balance.¡±

    The wind picked up, stirring the blackgrass at their feet. Somewhere in the distance, an owl-like creature let out a low, warbling sound, as if mourning something long lost.

    ¡°But one by one, the Maidens vanished.¡± Seraph¡¯s tail tightened slightly, her claws flexing at her sides. ¡°Hunted. Executed. Taken. Erased from history. Until only one remained.¡±

    She lifted her chin slightly, her elegant yet eerie presence magnified by the way the roselume vines behind her curled and twisted, their petals opening wider, drinking in the tension.

    ¡°The gods are not creators.¡±

    The sky above seemed darker now, the Black Sphere¡ªlooming like a great, unblinking wound in the heavens.

    ¡°The gods are not benevolent.¡±

    Kylas swallowed, his usual sarcasm buried beneath the weight of her voice.

    ¡°The gods must die.¡± Seraph added.

    The moment stretched between them, silent yet deafening.

    Seraph¡¯s tail flicked once before she continued, stepping closer, her presence demanding attention. ¡°Because the gods are not just feeding off faith. They are gestating.¡±

    The flowers quivered. The world stirred.

    She spoke, weaving a tale that felt less like a history lesson and more like the unraveling of a cruel, cosmic secret.

    ¡°The Maidens were not simply chosen Fox-kin¡ªwe were the keepers of the cycle. Beings meant to guide the world through its destined destruction and rebirth. But the ten false gods defied this cycle.¡±

    Her voice sharpened.

    ¡°They did not want to be unmade. They did not want to relinquish their stolen thrones. So they hunted us. One by one, they slaughtered and taken the Maidens until I was the only one left.¡±

    The garden seemed to darken at her words. The vines shrank slightly. Even the wind hesitated.

    ¡°I survived by retreating into the Sphere. Into Nyxthys itself.¡± Her crimson eyes flickered, distant. ¡°Hiding within the very force meant to reclaim this world. But I am not whole. The Sphere does not forget. It does not forgive. I have seen countless cycles, countless unmade worlds, and I carry the burden of all their memories.¡±

    A pause. A breath.

    ¡°And now, I have returned.¡±

    Her gaze bore into Kylas, her presence impossibly vast.

    ¡°Not to restore the gods. Not to kneel before them. But to destroy them.¡±

    Then¡ªdeliberate, absolute¡ª

    ¡°I am the herald of the end.¡±

    She tilted her head slightly, as if observing something beyond what Kylas could perceive. And then, finally¡ª

    ¡°And I have chosen you as my weapon.¡±

    The words struck him harder than a blade.

    For the first time in a long time, Kylas felt¡­ small.

    He exhaled sharply, forcing out a dry laugh. ¡°Oh. Great. So, let me get this straight.¡± He gestured vaguely. ¡°You¡¯re a crazy fox demon, and I¡¯m your chosen one to, what? Kill the gods? Bring about the ¡®end?¡¯¡± He scoffed. ¡°Yeah, no thanks. I already have enough problems.¡±

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    Seraph said nothing. She simply stared, as if waiting.

    And for some reason, that silence made something in him crack open.

    He let out a long, frustrated breath, raking a hand through his dark hair. Then, without thinking, he started talking.

    ¡°I don¡¯t give a damn about being a hero. Never wanted to be one. I hate people like that. They think they can save the world, but they don¡¯t even understand it. And me? I¡¯m not some savior. I¡¯m a caged animal, a fucking threat. That¡¯s what everyone says, right? ¡®Keep Kylas locked away. He¡¯s dangerous.¡¯ Hell, I don¡¯t even know if they¡¯re wrong.¡±

    His voice grew quieter.

    ¡°But I do know one thing.¡±

    The flowers trembled, leaning toward him.

    ¡°I want to live.¡±

    His hands clenched into fists.

    ¡°Not just exist. Not just be some monster locked away while the rest of the world moves on without me. I want to see everything out there. I want to taste food I¡¯ve never had before, get drunk at some tavern, wake up in a place I don¡¯t recognize, fight someone worth fighting. I want to experience something¡ªanything¡ªthat makes this world feel like it was worth being born into.¡±

    He exhaled, shoulders tense.

    ¡°I can¡¯t let the world end.¡±

    His voice cracked, just slightly, as he added, ¡°Not before I get to live at least once.¡±

    Silence.

    A long, stretched, embarrassing silence.

    And then¡ªit hit him.

    ¡°The hell am I saying?¡± His eyes widened as the realization settled like a stone in his gut. ¡°Why¡ªwhy am I even telling you all this? You¡¯re a random-ass evil demon-ass fox! You tried to kill me like an hour ago!¡±

    Seraph¡¯s expression remained unreadable. Then, with an elegant roll of her eyes, she simply said¡ª

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t meant for me. You were thinking out loud.¡±

    Kylas scowled. ¡°Shut up.¡±

    The wind stirred. The flowers shifted. And then Seraph¡¯s voice came again, lower this time, almost amused.

    ¡°You were meant to be the last king of the old world.¡±

    Kylas blinked. ¡°¡­What?¡±

    ¡°When the cycle was supposed to end, you were fated to be the final ruler. The last mortal before oblivion. You were to walk willingly into the end, to embrace the death of this world so that a new one could begin.¡±

    Seraph¡¯s gaze did not waver.

    ¡°But you refused.¡±

    A strange pressure settled in Kylas¡¯s chest.

    ¡°Your soul shattered. Your memories were lost. And you were cast into this broken world, living a simple life, ignorant of the burden you once carried. Lucky you.¡±

    His breathing felt too loud.

    ¡°Until I found you.¡± Seraph said.

    Kylas didn¡¯t speak. Couldn¡¯t.

    ¡®I was a king¡­? She¡¯s gotta be lying¡­right?¡¯

    ¡°And now, piece by piece, you must remember what you truly are.¡±

    The garden whispered around them. The sky stretched above, the Black Sphere watching.

    Seraph¡¯s voice was quieter now. A mere breath.

    The garden seemed to breathe, the strange flowers around them shifting as if whispering secrets to one another. The moonlight carved sharp angles across Seraph¡¯s face as she spoke, her voice smooth, deliberate, but vast¡ªas though she wasn¡¯t just telling a story, but recalling something that had existed long before words.

    ¡°Long before the kingdoms of Nyxhelm, before the gods carved their dominion into the bones of this world, there was only the Sphere.¡±

    The Black Sphere above seemed to pulse, an eerie flicker across its endless surface, like something deep within had stirred at the mere mention of its name.

    ¡°It is not an object. It is not even a celestial body.¡±

    Seraph¡¯s red eyes glowed faintly, her tail flicking behind her as she gazed upward.

    ¡°The Sphere is the womb of all existence.¡±

    Kylas blinked. ¡°You realize how creepy that sounds, right?¡±

    Seraph ignored him.

    ¡°It is a cosmic cradle, an eldritch thing that predates time itself, an engine that dreams worlds into being. But the Sphere does not create forever¡ªit recycles. When a world grows stagnant, when its rulers fall to corruption, the cycle resets. The world is swallowed back into the Sphere, unmade, and reborn anew.¡±

    She turned to face him fully, the soft glow of the luminescent petals making her expression seem even sharper.

    ¡°But something went wrong.¡±

    Kylas swallowed, suddenly feeling very small.

    ¡°The gods of Nyxhelm were never supposed to exist.¡±

    The flowers quivered.

    Seraph¡¯s voice remained calm, yet every word felt heavier than the last.

    ¡°In a cycle long past, there was a world before this one¡ªa world filled with men, beasts, and mortals who lived under an unbroken sky. It was a world that had reached its peak, and as all worlds must, it was meant to be reclaimed by the Sphere.¡±

    A pause.

    ¡°But ten individuals resisted.¡±

    Kylas didn¡¯t like where this was going.

    ¡°They fought against the pull of oblivion, clinging to their own existence, devouring the remnants of the old world to sustain themselves. They warped themselves, reshaped their forms into something unnatural, something beyond mortal comprehension.¡±

    The garden seemed colder now.

    ¡°In doing so, they broke the cycle.¡±

    For the first time, there was something in Seraph¡¯s expression¡ªcontempt.

    ¡°The Sphere, confused, did not destroy them. Instead, it repurposed them.¡±

    The way she said it sent a shiver down Kylas¡¯s spine.

    ¡°They were given dominion over a world that was never supposed to be. Each was granted a kingdom, a land sculpted from their own corrupted essence. But this world¡ªthis Nyxhelm¡ªis a mistake.¡±

    She looked straight at him, gaze unflinching.

    ¡°And mistakes cannot last forever.¡±

    The moment stretched, long and unbearably quiet. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

    Then, she continued.

    ¡°The ten gods know they should not exist.¡±

    Her words slithered into the silence like a blade carving through flesh.

    ¡°They know the cycle should have ended long ago. And they fear the Sphere.¡±

    The moonlight flickered.

    ¡°And so, they devised a plan.¡±

    Kylas exhaled sharply. ¡°Of course they did.¡±

    Seraph¡¯s tail flicked, amused by his reaction.

    ¡°They will sever themselves from it.¡±

    That caught his attention. He straightened slightly. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°The Black Sphere still looms in the sky, watching, waiting. The gods have spent centuries gathering power, shaping mortals into worshipers, forcing devotion upon the weak. Every prayer, every sacrifice, every act of worship feeds them.¡±

    Kylas felt his stomach twist. ¡°¡­Why?¡±

    Seraph tilted her head slightly.

    ¡°Because they seek to become true gods.¡±

    His throat went dry.

    ¡°If they can amass enough power¡ªenough belief, enough faith, enough divine energy¡ªthey can overthrow the Sphere itself.¡±

    Her voice softened, barely more than a whisper.

    ¡°They can remake reality in their own image.¡±

    Kylas¡¯s breath hitched.

    ¡°And when that happens¡­ There will be no more mortals.¡±

    Her gaze darkened.

    ¡°Only gods.¡±

    Silence.

    Kylas slowly exhaled, rubbing his face. ¡°Well. That¡¯s just great.¡± He muttered, glancing at the Black Sphere above them. ¡°So, we¡¯re all basically livestock to them.¡±

    Seraph smiled faintly. ¡°You¡¯re quick.¡±

    Kylas rolled his eyes, but his voice was calmer now¡ªcolder.

    ¡°If I can kill the gods¡­ If I can make sure I stay alive long enough to actually live¡ª¡± His grip tightened at his sides. ¡°Then I¡¯ll do whatever it takes.¡±

    But deep down, he was terrified.

    He didn¡¯t want to die. He didn¡¯t want to be another forgotten name in the endless, crushing weight of history. He had barely even lived¡ªhow could he accept death now?

    He clenched his jaw, pushing the thoughts away. ¡°But there¡¯s a problem.¡± He gestured around them. ¡°I can¡¯t leave this place.¡±

    Seraph raised an eyebrow.

    He sighed. ¡°There¡¯s a seal on me. And around the borders of this place. If I try to leave, I get hit with the world¡¯s worst headache, my nose bleeds, and I feel like I¡¯m gonna drop dead.¡±

    Seraph¡­ laughed.

    A soft chuckle at first, then a fully amused, delighted laugh.

    Kylas scowled. ¡°I fail to see what¡¯s funny.¡±

    She wiped an imaginary tear from her eye. ¡°You. You were a king in your past life, reborn as this snarky, miserable little thing.¡± She smiled, sharp teeth glinting. ¡°But I can still sense your power.¡±

    Kylas narrowed his eyes. ¡°What the hell does that mean¡ª¡±

    Before he could finish, she grabbed him by the back of his collar and yeeted him across the garden.

    Kylas screeched.

    Not yelled. Not shouted.

    Screeched.

    But instead of flying over the barrier, he clung onto her arm mid-throw, latching on like a stubborn cat refusing to be put in the bath.

    Seraph, still calm, tilted her head. ¡°Let go.¡±

    ¡°NO.¡±

    ¡°Kylas. I¡¯ll murderize you.¡±

    ¡°I REFUSE.¡±

    She sighed, shaking her arm, but he would not budge.

    ¡°Let go before I transform.¡±

    ¡°LIKE HELL I¡¯M GONNA LET GO. I CAN¡¯T STAND THOSE HEADACHES AND SHIT!¡±

    Seraph stared at the man clinging to her forearm like a crazed goblin, and then¡ªvery, very slowly¡ªher nine tails began to glow, her form shifting, growing.

    Kylas¡¯s grip loosened immediately.

    ¡°¡­Wait. Wait! Wait! Wait! Wait! Calm down!¡±

    Seraph smirked. ¡°Goodbye, Kylas.¡±

    Kylas screamed. ¡°I¡¯ll let go!¡±

    ____________________________________________

    The day had been absolute hell.

    For hours, Seraph had tried every tactic imaginable to get Kylas over the border.

    At first, she tried brute force.

    She threw him. He clung.

    She kicked him. He dodged.

    She even baited him with food, promising some rare, delicious fruit that only existed beyond the garden¡¯s boundary.

    Kylas just squinted at her. ¡°Nice try, you fox-demon trickster bastard.¡±

    Seraph flicked an ear, unimpressed. ¡°So, you do have a brain in there.¡±

    After that, she got creative.

    ?She tried digging a hole and covering it with leaves, only for Kylas to watch her do it the entire time.

    ?She tried a giant slingshot, built with vines and two unnervingly eager carnivorous plants. (They snapped at Kylas when he got close, and he told them to go to hell.)

    Then, she tried something psychological.

    She pulled out a small, black gemstone. ¡°This will grant you a wish. But only if you step past the border.¡±

    Kylas rubbed his temples. ¡°Seraph, I swear on my miserable life, if you try one more con artist trick, I¡¯m shoving that rock down your throat.¡±

    Seraph smiled. ¡°Oh? You¡¯d have to catch me first.¡±

    Gunthr and Zedlock, the two sentient, empty suits of armor, watched all of this in sheer horror.

    Kylas, still latched onto a tree to avoid being flung into oblivion, looked over at them. ¡°Hey. You two. Help.¡±

    Gunthr, the fat one, put his hands together in a silent apology.

    Zedlock, the slender one, shook his head rapidly, making an exaggerated ¡°Nope¡± motion.

    Kylas glared. ¡°Tch!¡±

    Then, Seraph turned to them.

    She tilted her head slowly. Her red eyes gleamed with malicious amusement.

    Gunthr and Zedlock panicked. The two suits of armor flailed wildly before sprinting away, clanking loudly as they ran for their damn lives.

    Kylas could not believe this. ¡°Oh, you motherfuckers¡ª¡±

    Seraph tried one final thing.

    She disappeared in a flicker of flame, reappearing behind him, and breathed against his ear.

    ¡°Kylas~,¡± she whispered.

    Kylas froze.

    A horrible, awful shudder ran through his body. His entire soul recoiled.

    ¡°NOPE¡ª¡±

    He yanked away, practically throwing himself over the boundary¡ª

    And immediately collapsed to the ground, nose bleeding profusely.

    Seraph sighed. ¡°So close.¡±

    Kylas groaned into the dirt. ¡°Ow..ow¡­¡±

    Nightfall.

    The sky darkened into something utterly breathtaking.

    Two moons hovered above¡ªone deep violet, the other a brilliant silver. Their light blended, bathing the garden in a surreal, almost dreamlike glow. Nebulous streaks of blue and gold danced across the heavens, like divine brushstrokes painting the void.

    Kylas lay sprawled in the grass, exhausted. His limbs ached, and his body felt like he had fought a war (which, honestly, he kind of had).

    And Seraph?

    Seraph was sitting on his chest.

    Kylas groaned. ¡°¡­You¡¯re enjoying this, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Seraph smirked. ¡°Immensely.¡±

    Kylas let his head fall back, staring up at the moons.

    ¡°¡­You know, I¡¯ve always wondered about those two,¡± he muttered.

    Seraph tilted her head, curious. ¡°Oh?¡±

    Kylas pointed lazily upward.

    ¡°That one¡ª¡± He gestured to the violet moon, ¡°¡ªis called Rythen. It¡¯s said to be the moon of dreams. It doesn¡¯t control tides or seasons. It controls the collective subconscious of the world. It sees into our nightmares, our desires, our deepest thoughts.¡±

    Seraph listened, surprisingly quiet.

    ¡°And that one¡ª¡± He nodded toward the silver moon, ¡°¡ªis Vaelyn. The guardian moon. It¡¯s always watching. Always waiting. If Nythal is the dreamer, then Vaelyn is the judge.¡±

    His voice softened.

    A beat of silence.

    Seraph smirked. ¡°So, which one do you think hates you more?¡±

    Kylas snorted. ¡°Probably both.¡±

    His gaze lingered on them, his expression unreadable.

    ¡°¡­I don¡¯t know.¡±

    Seraph hummed. ¡°Interesting.¡± She flicked her tail, stretching lazily. ¡°This world is decent looking, I¡¯ll admit.¡±

    Kylas blinked. ¡°Wow. A compliment. Am I dying?¡±

    Seraph ignored him.

    ¡°But¡­¡± She smirked. ¡°It would be perfect if there were more people like me.¡±

    Kylas grimaced. ¡°That is the worst thing I have ever heard.¡±

    Seraph laughed, fangs glinting.

    But then, something shifted.

    Kylas turned to her, genuinely curious. ¡°Why don¡¯t you like humans, anyway?¡±

    Silence.

    Seraph¡¯s playful smirk faded.

    She didn¡¯t answer.

    For the first time since he met her, she looked¡­ distant.

    She stood up abruptly, her ears flicking as she turned away.

    Kylas frowned. ¡°¡­Seraph?¡±

    Her voice was calm. Too calm.

    ¡°You need to burn the seal off.¡±

    Kylas blinked. ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    She finally turned back to him, her expression unreadable.

    ¡°Your power,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s Chaos Fire.¡±

    Kylas squinted. ¡°What the hell is that?¡±

    Seraph smirked, back to her usual self. ¡°I¡¯ll explain tomorrow.¡±

    Kylas scowled. ¡°Why not now?¡±

    She flicked his forehead. ¡°Because you need rest.¡±

    Kylas scoffed, standing up. ¡°You¡¯d better actually tell me in the morning, you weird fox-demon.¡±

    Seraph grinned. ¡°Looking forward to it. Get away from me.¡±

    Kylas rolled his eyes, heading toward the small house by the garden. He shut the door behind him without another word.

    Seraph watched him go.

    Then, without a sound, she turned¡ªand walked beyond the garden¡¯s borders.

    Into the darkness.

    Seraph moved through the forest, her steps silent, her tail swaying behind her as she observed the strange world around her. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and unfamiliar flora, the trees stretching high, their bark a deep violet hue, their leaves like shards of polished glass that shimmered faintly even in the dark. Strange insects, their wings bioluminescent with shifting patterns of blue and green, flickered between the branches. She watched one hover too close to a massive bloom¡ªa plant with petals like velvet tendrils¡ªand in a flash, the flower snapped shut, consuming the creature whole.

    ¡®This world is¡­ different.¡¯

    Her eyes narrowed as she stepped past a slow-moving Dew Maw, a creature resembling a cross between a panther and a salamander, its slick black body covered in tiny, translucent scales that dripped a luminous silver liquid. It paused, its four eyes flicking toward her, then slinked away into the brush. Further ahead, a group of Chimelopes¡ªantelope-like creatures with long, twisting horns and luminous stripes running down their hides¡ªgrazed peacefully, their hooves barely making a sound against the grass. Even further beyond, in the distant trees, the low, haunting calls of Night Phantoms echoed¡ªwisps of shadowy creatures with no true form, drifting in and out of the physical plane like flickering candlelight.

    Seraph exhaled through her nose. None of these things existed in the worlds before. She had seen thousands of realms rise and fall, civilizations burn and drown, but never¡­ this. Never creatures like these. Never landscapes so utterly alien.

    Her fist clenched as she walked, her mind turning inward.

    ¡®How many times has the Sphere remade the world? How many cycles have I endured? How many times have I been forced to watch everything be undone?¡¯

    Her steps slowed, and for a brief moment, she allowed her thoughts to slip¡ªto drift back, far beyond this place, far beyond the present.

    There had been a time when she had walked among her own people. When the Fox-Kin Maidens had not been hunted, had not been slaughtered like beasts. She could still hear their voices, their laughter, the warmth of their presence against the cold reality of her existence. She had been one of them¡ªa sister, a leader, a child of the Sphere itself.

    And then¡ª

    The memory struck like a knife to the gut.

    Blood. So much blood. The scent of it, thick and cloying, clung to her fur, her hands, the ground beneath her feet. Their bodies¡ªripped open, scattered, torn apart like carrion. Faces she had known since birth twisted in agony, reaching for her¡ªher name on their lips as their eyes glazed over, lifeless.

    She had screamed. Cried. She had fought until her claws were dull and her throat was raw. But nothing had changed. Nothing ever changed.

    Seraph clenched her fists so tightly that her claws dug into her palms. She forced herself to keep walking, shaking the memory away.

    At last, she reached a hill overlooking a vast valley. The view stretched far below¡ªrolling fields of bioluminescent grass swaying gently beneath the glow of two moons. Together, they bathed the landscape in a haunting, otherworldly glow, a sight so strange and beautiful that, for a moment, Seraph could only stare.

    She sat down at the cliff¡¯s edge, her tail curling around her as she let herself breathe.

    And then, her thoughts turned to him.

    ¡®Kylas.¡¯

    She exhaled sharply through her nose. That human. That strange, unpredictable, insufferable human.

    ¡®There is something different about him. He is not like the others. Or, at least, he pretends not to be. His eyes¡ªthose sharp, weary eyes¡ªdid not hold the same blind cruelty I had come to expect from his kind. He¡¯s reckless, violent, unhinged at times, but there¡¯s something else beneath all of it. A bitterness. A frustration. A desperate, clawing desire to be free. But humans always want to be free. And they never truly are.¡¯

    She had seen men like him before¡ªrebels, outcasts, wanderers who claimed to reject the world only to become exactly what it made them. How long until he was just another beast in human skin? How long until the world twisted him into something he hated?

    She had seen it happen. Again and again.

    Seraph curled her fingers into the grass, her eyes narrowing.

    ¡®I will not trust him. Not yet. But he is¡­ not unpleasant to look at. He is funny, though.¡¯

    She scoffed at herself. What a stupid thought. A waste of energy. Kylas was still human. That alone was enough to keep her guard up.

    She sighed, letting her head tilt back slightly as she gazed at the moons above.

    ¡®Will he be different?¡¯

    She doubted it.

    And yet¡­

    Seraph closed her eyes, inhaling slowly.

    She imagined her mother¡¯s presence beside her. She could almost feel it¡ªher mother¡¯s warmth, the quiet strength in the way she held her hand. A presence that had once been a pillar, unshakable. Now nothing more than a memory.

    Her hands trembled.

    She whispered, ¡°I will find them.¡±

    The wind carried her words into the night, lost to the vast, indifferent sky.

    She exhaled slowly, shaking her head.

    She closed her eyes.

    ¡¯I just need a moment. A single moment. A moment where I do not have to be strong.¡¯

 Chapter 3: Red Halo

    Seraph exhaled, the cold night air slipping between her lips like a whispered promise. The moons above cast their twin glows over the landscape, but she did not look up. Instead, she focused on the ground beneath her feet¡ªthe earth, the pulse of the world, the only thing that had remained constant through the endless destruction the Sphere had wrought.

    Slowly, deliberately, she lifted her foot and began.

    The Silent Claw¡ªa ritual of the Fox-Kin, passed down through generations. A quiet prayer, a tether to the past, a thread of hope woven into the very bones of the world. Her mother had taught her this when she was a child, pressing gentle hands to her shoulders, guiding her steps.

    ¡°Watch, Seraph. This is how we speak without words. This is how we tell the world we are still here.¡±

    Seraph¡¯s foot traced a curve in the dirt, smooth and sure, leaving behind the faintest shimmering rune¡ªa crescent twist, a symbol of resilience. She stepped forward, her movement fluid, her body an extension of the ancient dance. Another mark¡ªa spiral, curling inward, signifying remembrance.

    Her tail swayed behind her as she moved in careful, practiced steps, each motion deliberate. With every stroke of her foot against the earth, more symbols appeared, glowing faintly in the dark like embers beneath the soil. A lattice of history. A pattern of survival.

    The ritual had no words, no grand invocations. It did not beg the gods for mercy, nor did it seek vengeance against those who had wronged her kind.

    She spun lightly on the balls of her feet, drawing the final rune at the center of the pattern¡ªa fractured circle, the sign of a heart that has not yet been broken completely.

    And then, she stopped.

    The symbols pulsed once, a gentle flicker, before fading into the earth.

    Seraph stood there, her arms wrapped around herself, her breath uneven. She closed her eyes, pressing her lips together, holding in a feeling she refused to name.

    And then, she sighed.

    ¡°I don¡¯t wanna die.¡±

    The words fell from her lips like a secret too heavy to carry. The wind took them, sweeping them into the night, scattering them like dust.

    But the silence did not answer her.

    And so, alone beneath the twin moons, Seraph remained.

    __________________________________________

    Inside the Wooden House, Kylas lay on his back, staring at the ceiling with narrowed eyes, arms crossed over his chest. He scoffed.

    ¡°That damn fox woman¡­¡±

    Across the room, Gunthr and Zedlock sat against the wall, both of them staring at him like two lost, wide-eyed children. Kylas turned his head, scowling at them.

    ¡°What?¡±

    Gunthr and Zedlock exchanged glances, then looked back at him.

    ¡°You two BARELY helped me.¡±

    Gunthr made an exaggerated gesture, clutching his own chest as if deeply wounded.

    Zedlock pointed dramatically at Kylas, then mimed a fox tail, then mimed choking, then made a grand sweeping motion that somehow perfectly conveyed what happened earlier.

    Kylas groaned. ¡°I don¡¯t know! She¡¯s crazy! She almost killed me! And you two just sat there, all huddled up!¡±

    Gunthr and Zedlock immediately hugged each other again, shaking in mock terror.

    Kylas dragged a hand down his face. ¡°You know what? Forget it. I don¡¯t care. If she comes back and murders me in my sleep, at least I won¡¯t have to deal with you two mocking me anymore.¡±

    Zedlock made a dramatic, scandalized gesture, while Gunthr pretended to wipe away a tear.

    Kylas threw a pillow at them.

    Later, as the silence settled over the house, Kylas remained awake, staring at the ceiling. His mind was restless, thoughts flickering like dying embers.

    ¡®Seraph. The prettiest ones were always the most dangerous. That was what my father had told him once. That beauty was a weapon, just as much as a sword.¡¯

    He scoffed, rolling onto his side.

    Her claims about his past life were still circling in his head.

    ¡®A king? The ruler of the old world? It doesn¡¯t make sense. It felt like a bad story someone had forced into my brain, like a play where I had no memory of reading the script. But¡­ what if it was true? If it was, does my parents know?¡¯

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    His heart tightened slightly. He hadn¡¯t seen them since he woke up in this nightmare of a world. Were they here? Did they remember anything?

    He had to find them.

    He had to learn his power.

    He had to get out of this garden.

    ____________________________________________

    In the depths of sleep, Kylas heard it.

    ¡°Chaos.¡±

    The word slithered through his mind, an echo, a whisper, a distant roar.

    And then¡ªfire.

    He was clad in glowing red armor, its surface cracked and pulsing like molten rock, heat radiating from his very being. The ground beneath him was blackened ash, the sky above a swirling maelstrom of red and black.

    Before him stood chimera beasts and monsters¡ªgrotesque things of twisted flesh and snapping jaws, their bodies dripping with something thick and rancid.

    Kylas moved without thinking.

    His blade¡ªa weapon of fire and ruin¡ªcarved through them like they were made of air. The flames devoured them, reducing them to nothing in mere moments. Their shrieks filled his ears, a twisted symphony of agony.

    He cut through them. Again. Again. Again.

    Blood splattered his armor, but it did not burn.

    The fire within him was hotter.

    Chaos. Chaos. Chaos.

    It surged through him, a wildfire that could never be tamed, a force that sought only to consume.

    And then¡ª

    Darkness.

    ___________________________________________

    Morning

    Kylas awoke slowly, his body feeling heavy. A weight pressed against his chest, warm and soft.

    He blinked blearily. The morning light was filtering through the wooden walls, the gentle sound of the wind whispering outside.

    And then¡ª

    His vision cleared.

    Black hair. A tail draped lazily across his legs.

    Seraph.

    Sleeping. On top of him.

    Kylas inhaled sharply.

    His brain immediately shattered into a million incoherent pieces.

    Kylas could feel her warmth¡ªthe slow, steady rise and fall of her breathing against his chest. His muscles locked in place, his eyes frozen wide as his brain scrambled to process what the hell was happening.

    ¡®What the hell..?!¡¯

    Seraph. Seraph was on top of him.

    Asleep.

    Peaceful.

    ¡®Shit¡­¡¯

    Gunthr and Zedlock sat against the wall, both of them vibrating with pure unfiltered murderous energy.

    Gunthr mimed slitting her throat.

    Zedlock dramatically clutched his helmet in distress, pointing frantically at Kylas.

    Kylas, for the first time in his life, had no idea what to do. He panicked.

    His thoughts were a mess.

    ¡®Why is she on me?! What the hell did I do?! Why is she so warm?!¡¯

    He turned to Gunthr and Zedlock, throwing his hands up in a silent, frantic plea for help.

    Zedlock pointed at Seraph, then did a very vivid ¡°breaking neck¡± gesture.

    Gunthr dramatically fell to the side, playing dead.

    Kylas glared at them, whispering harshly, ¡°Are you two serious right now? Do you actually think I¡ªI would do anything to her?!¡±

    Gunthr nodded.

    Zedlock gave him a thumbs-up.

    He turned back to Seraph.

    ¡®Shit. Shit. Shit!¡¯

    His heart was hammering in his chest. He had never been this close to a female before.

    Ever.

    He turned back to Gunthr and Zedlock. ¡°What the hell do I do?¡±

    Gunthr made a very graphic stabbing motion.

    Zedlock mimed picking Seraph up and chucking her out the window.

    Kylas gave them both a horrified look. ¡°You guys are crazy.¡± But then he chuckled, ¡°I like when you two think like that. I would clobber her in her sleep, but I need her for answers.¡±

    Gunthr and Zedlock nodded sagely.

    Kylas clenched his fists. ¡®Okay. Okay, just¡­ just move her.¡¯

    Slowly, he reached for her shoulders, fingers twitching¡ª

    Then Seraph stirred.

    His whole body locked up as her lashes fluttered, her lips parting slightly as she breathed out¡ª

    ¡°¡­Mom¡­¡±

    Kylas froze.

    Gunthr and Zedlock froze.

    The entire world froze.

    Seraph¡¯s eyes slowly opened, golden irises hazy with sleep. And then¡ª

    She looked up.

    And locked eyes with him.

    The room stood still.

    Kylas could feel her breath.

    The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

    And then¡ª

    Seraph¡¯s face turned red.

    Kylas immediately panicked.

    ¡°WAIT, WAIT, WAIT, IT¡¯S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE¡ª¡±

    Seraph stared at him, silent.

    Which was worse.

    He was sweating. ¡°I¡ªI don¡¯t know why you¡¯re here¡ªI swear, I just woke up and you were there¡ª¡±

    Seraph blinked, completely still.

    Gunthr and Zedlock slowly slid out of the room.

    Kylas was suffocating under the pressure.

    Seraph narrowed her eyes, her blush deepening.

    And then¡ª

    ¡ª Kylas burst out of the house at full speed, sliding across the grass before coming to a stumbling stop.

    He groaned, holding his ribs.

    ¡®That damn fox. I can¡¯t let her keep thinking she can¡¯t kick me around.¡¯

    Footsteps.

    He turned¡ªand Seraph was walking towards him.

    She was cracking her knuckles.

    ¡°How dare you lay with me?¡± she hissed, eyes burning with rage.

    Kylas threw his arms up. ¡°I DIDN¡¯T DO ANYTHING, YOU DUMBASS¡ª¡±

    Seraph vanished.

    In an instant, she was right in front of him, her fingers elongating into razor-sharp claws.

    Kylas¡¯ instincts screamed.

    ¡°Chaos.¡±

    The word echoed through his mind.

    And before he even realized¡ª

    He moved.

    A burst of red flames erupted around him. And in the blink of an eye¡ª

    He was gone.

    Seraph¡¯s claws slashed through empty air.

    She whipped around¡ª

    And Kylas was above her.

    He hovered, surrounded by red flames.

    A halo of red fire burned above his head. Behind him, a massive spinning magic crest made of swirling embers twisted in the air, intricate and ancient. A long flaming tail flickered behind him, and his right fist was engulfed in fire.

    For the first time¡ªhe felt powerful.

    And he smiled.

    Wide.

    Cocky.

    Arrogant.

    The feeling of speed, strength, destruction¡ªit was intoxicating.

    And then¡ª

    He punched downward.

    The moment his fist nearly touched the ground¡ª

    Everything vanished.

    The halo. The crest. The flames. Gone.

    Then pain¡ªunbearable pain¡ªshot through his entire body.

    Blood gushed from his nose and mouth as he collapsed, gasping, clutching his chest.

    ¡®The seal!¡¯

    He could feel it burning on his back, locking his power away once again.

    Kylas cursed, voice ragged. ¡°Curse my parents¡­ curse them for this fucking seal.¡± He groaned, spitting blood onto the dirt. ¡°How could they do this to me¡­?¡±

    Gunthr and Zedlock immediately rushed to his side, gently propping him up.

    Seraph watched him carefully. And then, she spoke:

    ¡°The seal is scared of your power.¡±

    Kylas looked up, panting.

    Seraph crossed her arms. ¡°It¡¯s working hard to suppress it. But the fact that you were able to conjure even a little of it means¡­ the seal isn¡¯t strong enough to contain all of it. If you learn to wield your power, you can break it.¡±

    Kylas clenched his fists, trembling. His entire body hurt. But¡ª

    He sat up, eyes burning with determination.

    ¡°¡­Teach me.¡±

    His voice was low, serious, desperate.

    Seraph¡¯s ears twitched.

    Kylas¡¯ mind flickered¡ªan old memory.

    His parents.

    Their voices, soft and warm, whispering to him as a baby:

    ¡°We love you.¡±

    Kylas¡¯ teeth clenched.

    His fist slammed into the dirt.

    ¡°My ass.¡±

    He pushed himself up, wobbling, wiping the blood from his mouth.

    And he glared at Seraph.

    ¡°Teach me.¡±

    Seraph watched him.

    The wind howled.

    And then¡ª

    She smirked.

 Chapter 4: Witch Hunt

    The town of Etheloren pulsed with life beneath the glow of twin suns, nestled within the emerald heart of Elu. Its architecture was a harmonious blend of old-world stonework and sweeping elven designs, with intricate archways and spiraled towers that reached toward the sky like fingers eager to pluck the stars. The streets, paved with enchanted cobblestone that never lost its polish, wound through bustling market squares and shadowed alleyways where the scent of fresh-baked bread and sizzling meats clashed against the sharper tang of alchemical concoctions.

    Magic flowed through the town like blood through veins, woven into the very fabric of daily life. Bards lined the open courtyards, their music not just a delight to the ears but a spectacle to behold. With the flick of a wrist and the tracing of luminous runes in the air, they spun symphonies into reality¡ªsoft, golden notes that fluttered like butterflies before bursting into glowing birds that circled above the audience. Some played harps that required no strings, only the delicate motion of fingers upon glowing lines of magic, while others drummed upon invisible surfaces that sent ripples of sound through the cobblestones.

    The town criers stood atop rune-etched platforms, their voices amplified by the glyphs beneath their feet as they called out the latest news.

    ¡°Tragedy strikes the House of Eldrin! Lord Haverin Eldrin found turned to solid glass in his manor! Archmage council suspects a cursed relic!¡±

    ¡°Beware, travelers! The Red Fang Bandits have been sighted along the northern trade roads¡ªmerchants are advised to hire escorts or face certain peril!¡±

    ¡°The baker¡¯s guild will hold a festival tomorrow at the Sunspire Plaza! Free bread to all who attend, courtesy of the Lady Denshire¡¯s patronage!¡±

    ¡°Duelists, take heed! The annual Mageblade Tournament has been delayed due to last year¡¯s champion, Ser Thalric, suffering an unfortunate encounter with a teleportation mishap! His whereabouts remain unknown!¡±

    Laughter and murmurs followed each announcement, with townsfolk sharing speculation and gossip over tankards of honeyed mead in the many taverns dotting the city. Merchants called out from their stalls, displaying wares that ranged from enchanted jewelry to potions sealed with intricate locks that only the buyer could open.

    Near the town square stood two massive contract boards, towering over the crowd with layers of parchment tacked onto their weathered wood. One bore the insignia of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild¡ªcontracts meant for exploration, gathering, or minor monster subjugation. The other, marked with an obsidian sigil, was the Hunter¡¯s Board, where only those willing to stain their hands with blood dared to tread. The contrast between the two was stark¡ªwhere Adventurers dealt with relatively tame tasks, Hunters took on the contracts that reeked of death.

    A crowd had gathered at the foot of these boards, but not out of curiosity for the latest postings. Suspended mid-air, flailing and cursing, was a cluster of Adventurers entangled in dark wraps covered in glowing white runes. Their limbs jerked uselessly, their weapons hanging just out of reach as they desperately tried to escape. Below them, standing with hands on her hips, was a woman with shoulder-length black hair, black horns curving slightly from her head, and golden slit-pupil eyes that gleamed with amusement. She was draped in black wrap clothing that mirrored the enchanted tendrils currently holding her captives hostage.

    Ness.

    ¡°OI, YOU GUILD RATS!¡± Ness barked, a wide, toothy grin stretched across her face as she wagged a finger at the suspended Adventurers. ¡°WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT STEALING MY CONTRACTS, HUH?¡±

    One of the Adventurers, a lanky elf with a panicked expression, tried to reason with her. ¡°It was an accide¡ªACK!¡± The wraps tightened slightly around his torso, cutting off his air.

    ¡°OH, IT WAS AN ACCIDENT? OH REALLY?¡± Ness mocked, throwing her head back in exaggerated disbelief. ¡°Oh noooo, my delicate little hands just soooo happened to grab the wrong contract! OH FUCK, I ACCIDENTALLY SIGNED MY NAME ON IT! MY BAD!¡± She stomped her foot, the wraps jostling the Adventurers in the air. ¡°DO I LOOK STUPID TO YOU?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± one brave soul muttered under his breath.

    Ness snapped her head towards him like a predator locking onto prey. ¡°WHO SAID THAT?¡±

    The group collectively pointed at each other in frantic silence.

    Laughter rippled through the bystanders. ¡°Serves ¡®em right,¡± one man chuckled to his friend. ¡°You don¡¯t snatch from Hunters. That¡¯s how you end up in a gutter.¡±

    A woman leaned against a wooden post, smirking. ¡°Guess they¡¯ll think twice before messing with that crazy woman.¡±

    The contract in question was still pinned to the board¡ªa Hunt marked for extermination. Some rogue wyvern had nested near the eastern farmland, snatching cattle and reportedly killing a few unlucky villagers. A dangerous job, but lucrative for anyone capable. And that, apparently, did not include the Adventurers currently dangling in the air like trapped rabbits.

    Ness crossed her arms, tapping her foot in mock contemplation. ¡°You know¡­ I was gonna just let this slide.¡±

    The Adventurers perked up with hope.

    ¡°But now that I think about it¡­ nah.¡±

    The hope shattered.

    ¡°I think I deserve an apology,¡± Ness grinned, her sharp canines gleaming. ¡°And I want it sung.¡±

    The crowd erupted into more laughter as the Adventurers groaned in utter defeat.

    The Adventurers, still tangled in Ness¡¯s black wraps, groaned in sheer humiliation as she grinned up at them, arms crossed. ¡°Alright, boys, time to sing for your freedom,¡± she said, a sadistic gleam in her golden slit-pupil eyes. ¡°And don¡¯t half-ass it! I want passion! I want regret! I want to hear your souls crying out in shame!¡±

    The crowd was already buzzing with laughter as the bound Adventurers exchanged hesitant glances. Finally, the lanky elf who had tried to reason with Ness earlier took a deep breath and started, his voice warbling pathetically:

    ¡°Ooooooh, we¡¯re so very sorryyyyy~¡±

    Another Adventurer, an orc with a broken spirit, joined in, harmonizing in an off-key wail:

    ¡°We stole a contract, and now we cryyyyyyy~¡±

    The rest, resigned to their fate, groaned before adding in a chorus:

    ¡°Ness is the greatest, we are the worst~ We¡¯ll never cross her, lest we get cursed~¡±

    The audience exploded into cheers and whistles, some even clapping along, while others wiped tears of laughter from their eyes. Ness, however, wasn¡¯t impressed. ¡°BOOO! What was that garbage?!¡± she barked, making them all flinch. ¡°No emotion! No drama! Do it again, but this time¡­ feel it!¡±

    The Adventurers exchanged another look, this time sheer despair written across their faces. And yet, they tried. They truly tried, pouring all their regret into the next verse as they wailed out a sorrowful ballad about how Ness, the beautiful and terrifying Huntress, had bested them in combat and shattered their dignity.

    The performance had the crowd doubled over, but just as Ness prepared to make them do another encore, something shifted in the air. A sharp presence. A movement barely perceptible¡ª

    In an instant, without warning, a blade laced with glowing runes was slashing toward Ness¡¯s throat.

    The attacker, an Adventurer who had been lurking in the crowd, lunged with practiced silence, his face twisted in a desperate sneer. But just before the blade could reach her, his body stiffened. His breath hitched. A shadow loomed behind him¡ª

    And then, there was a voice.

    ¡°Lucky you¡­. If I wasn¡¯t so tired, I might¡¯ve let that land.¡±

    A pale young man now stood back to back with the would-be assassin, his posture lazy, almost indifferent. Black dreadlocks framed his face, dark brown eyes half-lidded as if he had just been roused from a deep sleep. Under his eyes, tattoos streaked downward like smeared makeup, giving him a perpetually exhausted, mournful appearance. But what stood out most was the creature coiled around his arm¡ª

    A snake, long and covered in glowing white runes, its body lazily slithering up the Adventurer¡¯s neck.

    The assassin¡¯s body shook as the snake constricted just slightly, not enough to choke, but enough to remind him that it could.

    ¡°Ness is a headache. A big one. But if anyone¡¯s going to kill her, it¡¯s going to be me.¡±

    The assassin whimpered.

    Ness turned, beaming as if someone had just given her a bouquet of flowers. ¡°Awwww, Kindred~!¡± she crooned. ¡°You do care!¡±

    ¡°Tch. You wish.¡± Kindred yawned.

    The gathered townsfolk began whispering amongst themselves, eyes darting toward Kindred with a mixture of awe and fear.

    ¡°That¡¯s Kindred¡­¡±

    ¡°The one who almost killed a demi-god a few years back?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but no one knows how he survived.¡±

    Meanwhile, Ness casually released the other Adventurers from her wraps, sending them tumbling onto the cobblestones. They wasted no time, scrambling to their feet and bolting down the street, cursing their misfortune and vowing never to take a Hunters¡¯ contract again.

    Kindred, watching them flee, sighed deeply. ¡°Y¡¯know, Ness,¡± he muttered, rubbing his temples. ¡°You should really stop grabbing people at random. One of these days, you¡¯re gonna piss off the wrong person.¡±

    Ness rolled her eyes. ¡°Yeah, yeah, I know,¡± she said with a dismissive wave. ¡°But it¡¯s hard to tell which ones are demi-gods. They don¡¯t exactly go around wearing signs.¡±

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°They don¡¯t have to,¡± Kindred deadpanned.

    ¡°Whatever,¡± Ness said, stretching her arms above her head. ¡°It¡¯s not my fault they stay hidden. I mean, if they made themselves known, some rogue mages or power-hungry freaks would probably try to gang up on them for gold or to somehow steal their power.¡±

    Kindred exhaled through his nose. ¡°Right. So¡­.maybe¡­.don¡¯t make enemies of people before you know who they are, ya know.¡±

    But just as their conversation reached that point, a new sound cut through the air¡ª

    The manic, impassioned rambling of a man standing atop a rooftop.

    Everyone turned, eyes landing on a figure that seemed to have materialized from nowhere. A towering man with an unkempt beard and wild spiked brown hair stood on the edge of a stone building, completely naked save for a ram¡¯s skull covering his privates. His dark blue eyes burned with madness, and in one hand, he wielded a massive, weathered bone as if it were a divine weapon.

    He raised the bone high, his voice booming through the square.

    ¡°THE SKY IS MERELY THE LID TO THE WORLDS¡¯ COFFIN! WE ARE BUT WORMS SQUIRMING IN A GOD¡¯S UNKEMPT GRAVEYARD! THE STARS? NOT LIGHTS, BUT HOLES IN THE CEILING WHERE THE DIVINE PEER DOWN, JUDGING OUR EVERY MISSTEP!¡±

    Ness and Kindred both sighed.

    ¡°Gunjo¡¯s at it again,¡± Kindred muttered.

    Down in the crowd, people whispered among themselves.

    ¡°That¡¯s Gunjo, The First Hunter¡­¡±

    ¡°They say he¡¯s over four hundred years old.¡±

    ¡°They also say he¡¯s completely insane.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but explain how he¡¯s been spotted in three different places at the same time.¡±

    ¡°And how he never ages.¡±

    ¡°The guy¡¯s a legend. Even if he¡¯s nuts, no one dares mess with him.¡±

    On the rooftop, Gunjo continued his tirade, swinging his massive bone like a prophet wielding divine truth.

    ¡°I HAVE SEEN THE END OF DAYS, AND IT SMELLS OF BURNT DOG AND DESPAIR! THE MOON WHISPERS TO ME IN MY DREAMS, BUT I DO NOT SPEAK HER LANGUAGE! ALL OF YOU! ALL OF YOU! WILL SOON KNOW WHAT IT MEANS TO¡ª¡±

    Gunjo abruptly stopped, blinking as if suddenly realizing where he was. He rubbed his beard. ¡°Wait. Where was I going with this?¡±

    Ness chuckled. ¡°Haha! He¡¯s definitely crazy in person!¡±

    Kindred shook his head. ¡°You¡¯ve never ran into him up close?¡±

    ¡°Nope! Was I supposed to?¡±

    As the crowd continued watching the spectacle, Ness and Kindred remained near the contract boards¡ªuntil, amid the murmuring, they overheard something.

    The square buzzed with energy, laughter still lingering in the air from Gunjo¡¯s latest ramblings, but Ness¡¯s sharp eyes had already flicked elsewhere¡ªtoward a familiar figure standing near the Hunters¡¯ contract board.

    Kato.

    There he was, in all his shirtless, roguish glory. His dark orange hair, tied back in a loose braid, shimmered like copper under the midday sun. A single eyepatch obscured one eye, but the other, a deep red, gleamed with that perpetual glint of mischief. The red rose tattoos blooming across his arm and chest only added to his effortless allure, and, as always, women were flocked around him, vying for his attention. Some batted their lashes, others brushed against his arm with giggles and coy smiles, but Kato¡ªbeing Kato¡ªwas more than happy to entertain them.

    Ness rolled her eyes. ¡°Man, this guy never quits.¡±

    Kindred barely spared him a glance, too busy scratching his neck. ¡°He¡¯s got priorities. They¡¯re just stupid ones.¡±

    But Kato wasn¡¯t just flirting¡ªhe was also deep in negotiations with another group.

    A second Hunters¡¯ Guild.

    They stood in stark contrast to Kato¡¯s crew. Where his guild carried themselves with the reckless bravado of seasoned killers who laughed in the face of danger, this group exuded a colder, more calculated menace. Their leader, a towering woman with stark white hair and jagged scars running down both arms, listened to Kato¡¯s pitch with narrowed, skeptical eyes. She was dressed in layers of dark furs, a curved black blade resting at her hip, her presence commanding even without words.

    Her name was Sylva, leader of The Hollowed Fang.

    Beside her stood her guildmates:

    Jorrik, a gaunt man with a buzz cut, green eyes, and silver piercings covering his face, his long black coat stitched together with what looked like human hair.

    Veyda, a short, wiry woman whose left arm was completely skeletal, held together by magic that pulsed dimly along the bones. Her face was covered in runic tattoos, wearing a brown sackcloth and a hoodie over her head.

    Osric, a masked man whose runed spear dripped with something thick and black¡ªlikely blood from his last job.

    Ness¡¯s curiosity sparked. She sauntered closer, tilting her head to catch what was being said.

    ¡°Look,¡± Kato was saying, his arms crossed over his bare chest, ¡°I¡¯m not in the business of splitting rewards. My guild? We take our contracts, we finish the job, and we get paid. Simple as that.¡±

    Sylva wasn¡¯t impressed. ¡°This contract isn¡¯t simple,¡± she said, voice edged like her blade. ¡°If it were, it wouldn¡¯t be sitting on that board, untouched for weeks.¡±

    Ness¡¯s eyes darted to the parchment Kato held in his grip. Her lips curled as she reached forward and snatched it from him before he could react.

    ¡°Hey¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shut up shut up shut up wait,¡± she muttered, scanning the document.

    The contract was written in immaculate, looping cursive, its words elegant yet foreboding:

    HUNTERS¡¯ CONTRACT

    Target: The All Mother

    Location: The Forest of Guglu

    Reward: 10,000 Gold

    Byp decree of the sovereign houses of Elu, a grave threat has been deemed worthy of immediate eradication. A coven of witches lurks deep within the Forest of Guglu, their dark rituals warping the very essence of life. Reports confirm that travelers who venture too close to their domain never return. Those who are found again are¡­ changed.

    Misshapen bodies. Twisted minds. Flesh that moves on its own, eyes that blink where none should be. They are no longer the people they once were. They are abominations.

    At the heart of this corruption is The All Mother, the one who leads the coven. It is said she does not age. That she was there when the first stones of this land were laid. Some call her a goddess. Others call her a nightmare.

    She must be killed.

    Approach with extreme caution. The witches of Guglu are not mere spellcasters¡ªthey are something worse.

    Steel and fire will not always be enough.

    Ness let out a low whistle. ¡°Hooo boy. This one¡¯s got all the lovely little death flags, huh?¡±

    Nearby, Hunters and townsfolk were already murmuring about it.

    ¡°You¡¯d have to be suicidal to take that one¡­¡±

    ¡°I heard the last group that went in never made it back.¡±

    ¡°Witches are a different kind of evil, man. I don¡¯t mess with that.¡±

    ¡°But isn¡¯t that also where that cursed kid is? Or near it?¡±

    ¡°Kylas, or whatever his name was?¡±

    Ness blinked. ¡°Who?¡±

    A Hunter shrugged. ¡°Some kid¡ªhis parents ran he¡¯s even still alive. They say he¡¯s got some kind of curse, like the forest itself won¡¯t let him die.¡±

    Ness frowned but said nothing. That was a problem for later.

    Kato, meanwhile, had already moved the conversation forward. ¡°We need this contract. My guild needs that ten thousand gold. We¡¯re trying to get to Torvh.¡±

    At the mention of the name, there was a slight hush.

    Ness smiled and twirled ¡°Torvh! The City of Silent Orchestras! Ruled by Goddess Queen Velmiru, the Choir of One! A city where music was law! Where silence was a crime, The streets pulsed with endless harmonies, the rivers whispered choral hymns, even the trees trembled to unseen melodies! No one could be mute in Torvh¡ªwhether by will or nature¡ªwithout consequence! Many opportunities to get rich down there! Better high ranking contracts, everything!¡±

    Sylva exhaled slowly. ¡°Torvh, huh? And you think this contract is going to get you enough to buy your way into the kingdom?¡±

    ¡°Damn right,¡± Kato said. ¡°So I¡¯m not splitting shit.¡±

    Sylva smirked. ¡°You can have all the gold. We don¡¯t care about that. What we want is whatever we find in the witches¡¯ den. Artifacts. Relics. Things that¡¯ll sell for a whole lot more than ten thousand gold.¡±

    Ness grinned, tossing the contract back at Kato. ¡°I¡¯m in. Even I¡¯m not dumb enough to go into that hellhole with just three people.¡±

    Sylva turned her sharp gaze toward Ness and Kindred. ¡°Your guild isn¡¯t known for playing nice. Can you keep your people in line?¡±

    Kindred let out a slow yawn, stretching his arms above his head. ¡°That depends. Are you gonna be annoying?¡±

    Ness snorted. ¡°Don¡¯t mind him. He¡¯s only dangerous when he¡¯s awake.¡±

    Sylva scoffed. ¡°Fine. We move at dawn.¡±

    Just as the agreement was settled, a booming voice rang through the square¡ª

    ¡°TAKE ME WITH YOUUUUU!¡±

    The group turned just in time to see Gunjo, still stark naked save for the ram¡¯s skull, standing atop a barrel with his arms dramatically outstretched. ¡°I CAN GUIDE YOU TO THE WITCHES WITH MY ANCIENT HUNTER¡¯S WISDOM!¡±

    ¡°NO,¡± they all said in unison.

    Gunjo deflated slightly. ¡°Fair enough. But I will follow from afar.¡± But then he gasped, and ran for, saying, ¡°I CANNOT TRAVEL WITH YOU! OTHER DUTY CALLS.¡±

    And with that, their fate was sealed.

    ____________________________________________

    The outskirts of the Guglu Forest lay in eternal dusk, shrouded in an eerie black fog that slithered like a living thing. The air was thick with the scent of decay, of damp earth and something far worse¡ªsomething unnatural.

    And there, just before the treeline, they sat.

    Figures that had once been people.

    A woman in a tattered white dress, her blonde hair matted against her hollow face, sat in the dirt with a vacant expression. Black worms leaked from her tear ducts, writhing down her cheeks like an endless cascade of filth. But the true horror was what rested atop her head.

    A baby¡ªif it could still be called that.

    Its skin was rotten, its tiny limbs unmoving, but it was fused grotesquely with her skull, as if its very existence was leeching from hers. The woman did not scream. She did not speak. She only sat there, motionless, her lips slightly parted, her breath shallow.

    Beside her, a fairy twitched violently.

    Her form was a mockery of her kind¡ªone arm grotesquely swollen with rot, its fingers curled inward like dead branches. Her wings, once delicate, were now tattered and dripping with something viscous. Worst of all were her heads¡ªthree of them, each identical, each grinning wide, their teeth blackened and cracked. And they twitched, moving too fast, their heads snapping from side to side in unnatural, jerky motions, as if reality itself was struggling to hold them in place.

    Further still, two more figures loomed.

    One was a man whose body was riddled with gaping mouths, each one whispering in different tones, different voices¡ªsome high, some guttural, some weeping. The mouths never stopped moving, never stopped muttering things that no sane mind could comprehend.

    And the other¡­

    A thing that had once been tall, now reduced to a mass of stitched-together limbs, a face barely distinguishable beneath the folds of pulsing flesh. Eyes blinked from his chest, his stomach, his fingers. He was breathing.

    They all were.

    And behind them, standing with quiet poise, was the one they called The All Mother.

    Her beauty was cruel, intricate, something carved by the hands of a god with no love in their heart. A halo of roses floated above her head, their petals dark as dried blood, each one sharp as a blade. Her long black dress trailed over the ground, untouched by the filth beneath her feet.

    She did not command the abominations.

    She simply stood with them.

    One of them, a creature that could no longer be called a man, let out a breathless whisper.

    ¡°Help¡­¡±

    The All Mother¡¯s lips curved into something that might have been a smile.

    ¡°More will come,¡± she said, her voice as soft as the wind. ¡°More will come to keep you company.¡±

    She turned her gaze toward the distant road, toward the approaching Hunters who dared step foot into her domain.

    ¡°Hunters never know when to stay away.¡±

    _________________________________________

    (Kylas¡¯ garden)

    The weight on his back was not unbearable, but it was irritating beyond belief. His arms trembled slightly as he pressed his body up from the ground, sweat slicking his skin, his breath coming in short, sharp exhales. Every push-up felt pointless. Every second under this ridiculous training method made him want to hurl Seraph across the garden and be done with it.  Seraph was sitting on his back.

    ¡®This is insane!¡¯ Kylas thought.

    And yet, Seraph remained perfectly balanced atop him, one leg crossed over the other, her tail flicking lazily. She was smiling, her fox-like elegance effortless, her eyes glinting with amusement as she watched him struggle.

    ¡°This is humiliating,¡± Kylas grunted, his arms straining as he pushed himself up once more.

    ¡°Trust me,¡± Seraph replied, her voice smooth, infuriatingly calm. ¡°Strength of body and strength of mind must move together. If you cannot handle me sitting on you, how do you expect to control something as wild as your own power?¡±

    Kylas scoffed. ¡°I guess you¡¯re right..sorry for complaining.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Was that an apology from Kylas?¡±

    ¡°N-No! You¡¯re heading shit.¡±

    ¡°Mm. Here I thought you were an honest human for a quick second, forgive me.¡±

    Kylas thought, ¡®Craaap! She was actually thinking something good about me? Then I ruined it?! What is wrong with me?!¡¯

    Kylas groaned loudly, pressing his forehead to the dirt in frustration before forcing himself back up again. ¡°I got this, don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m not giving up like a little wuss. You saw how strong I was.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re trying to make me fall for you just because of your strength, it¡¯s a horrible attempt for a human¡ª.¡±

    ¡°NO! NO! NO! I¡¯m just pointing it out. I was a little strong.¡±

    ¡®That was close¡­¡¯

    From a distance, Gunthr and Zedlock watched, their massive armored forms shifting with their usual silent communication. Gunthr lifted one gauntlet slightly, tilting it in a manner that clearly translated to, What is he doing?

    Zedlock, ever the more expressive of the two, raised both hands before bringing them together in slow, exaggerated claps¡ªmocking applause for Kylas¡¯ suffering.

    Kylas glared at them, his patience wearing dangerously thin.

    Gunthr lifted both gauntlets in surrender, while Zedlock simply continued his silent applause, clearly entertained.

    Kylas ground his teeth together, sweat rolling down his temple.

 Chapter 5: Runes Of Destruction

    Kylas stood across from Seraph, his arms crossed, his body still tense from the ridiculous training she had just put him through. The sweat on his skin was drying now, leaving behind the faint salt of exertion, but his focus had shifted entirely. Before him, Seraph knelt down, the sleeves of her flowing robes slipping as she pressed her fingers to the dirt. Her elegant tails curled slightly behind her, the golden fur catching the dim light that filtered through the garden.

    The ground beneath them became her canvas. With graceful, deliberate movements, she traced the shapes of something ancient into the soil, her clawed fingertips cutting into the earth with effortless precision. The symbols she carved were not merely shapes¡ªthey pulsed, as if recognizing their own existence, as if remembering a time when they were whole.

    ¡°Magic in Nyxhelm is not simply an energy or a learned craft,¡± Seraph began, her voice carrying the weight of something far older than her youthful appearance suggested. ¡°It is a living, self-conscious system of reality weaving. The Runes of Bahamut are not just symbols or spells, but the underlying threads of existence itself, rewritten and channeled through willpower, language, and understanding.¡±

    Kylas, now seated on the ground with a journal in his lap, was completely invested. His delinquent attitude had given way to something fierce, something hungry. He scratched down notes furiously, his usually sharp and untamed movements suddenly methodical.

    Gunthr and Zedlock stood beside him, their towering, sentient armor forms leaning forward like children hanging onto every word of a grand tale. Gunthr¡¯s helmet tilted with an almost reverent curiosity, while Zedlock¡¯s gauntlets twitched in a gesture that could only be described as an excited fidget.

    Seraph continued, drawing three interwoven symbols.

    ¡°It¡¯s called the Runes of Bahamut, and it allows for a dynamic, evolving magic¡ªbut only for those who truly grasp the cost of rewriting the world and their own soul.¡±

    She tapped one of the symbols. ¡°Long before the gods usurped divinity, Bahamut was not a dragon, a deity, or a being¡ªit was the foreign name of the Sphere itself.¡±

    Kylas¡¯ ink feather nearly tore through the page as he wrote. He looked up at her sharply. ¡°The Sphere? You mean the entire system of reality?¡±

    Seraph nodded. ¡°The ancient name B¦«H¦«MVT meant¡ª¡±

    She carved the three syllables into the ground with effortless grace:

    B¦« ¨C ¡°To shape that which has no form.¡±

    H¦«M ¨C ¡°To bind the infinite into meaning.¡±

    VT ¨C ¡°To anchor the rewritten world into existence.¡±

    Kylas¡¯ heartbeat quickened. He didn¡¯t know why, but something about those words felt familiar.

    ¡®It¡¯s similar to the purpose of the Sphere. How it¡¯s a literal womb to create and destroy worlds, a thing that held gods and other unknown shit. It makes sense¡­it¡¯s like it¡¯s all connected. Oh wait it is. The hell am I thinking?¡¯

    ¡°Bahamut,¡± Seraph continued, ¡°was the first entity to weave reality into structure using the power of the Sphere, the first force that held the unknowable chaos together. However, when the gods broke the cycle, the Runes of Bahamut were fragmented. Now, they exist not as laws, but as shattered pieces of the old world, the first world, scattered throughout Nyxhelm. This magic system has been recycled through every single world that has been created and destroyed.¡±

    Zedlock pressed a gauntlet to his helmet as if mimicking a mind being blown apart. Gunthr, meanwhile, clutched his chest plate dramatically, as if the weight of this knowledge was too much to bear.

    Kylas barely spared them a glance, his grin stretching wide. ¡°So, what you¡¯re saying is¡ªthis magic isn¡¯t just about hurling fireballs.¡±

    Seraph replied, ¡°In crude terms, yes.¡±

    Kylas leaned forward, his muscles tense with anticipation. ¡°Keep talking.¡±

    She continued, drawing new diagrams. ¡°Unlike elemental magic or spellcasting, the Runes of Bahamut are a layered, interwoven system, functioning like a living language of reality.¡±

    She then carved out three sections:

    A. The Three Core Aspects of a Rune

    Each rune, she explained, consisted of three fundamental components, like a sentence:

    <ol>

    <li>Foundation (Prime Form) - ¡°The Essence¡±

    </li>

    <ul>

    <li>The base concept of the rune, such as Fire (IZH), Shadow (VAKH), Flesh (OZH), or Time (ERH).

    </li>

    <li>This determined the core affinity of the spell.

    </li>

    </ul>

    <li>Weave (Thread Form) - ¡°The Modifier¡±

    </li>

    <ul>

    <li>This altered how the Prime Form manifested.

    </li>

    <li>Example Weaves: Growth (YALH), Consumption (KOT), Shatter (VEZ), Bind (MAKH).

    </li>

    <li>This allowed for personalized spell evolution.

    </li>

    </ul>

    <li>Catalyst (Final Form) - ¡°The Effect¡±

    </li>

    <ul>

    <li>This finalized how the spell interacted with reality.

    </li>

    <li>Examples: Instantaneous (ZOH), Lingering (RATZ), Recursive (VAZH), Paradoxical (KESH).

    </li>

    <li>The wrong Catalyst could create unstable results.

    </li>

    </ul>

    </ol>

    Kylas stared at the symbols in fascination, his journal now a mess of scribbles and notes. His head was racing. This was more than just magic¡ªit was rewriting the damn world.

    Gunthr clapped his gauntlets together excitedly. Zedlock mimed wiping away a nonexistent tear, as if he had just witnessed the revelation of the century.

    Seraph then stepped back and met Kylas¡¯ eyes. ¡°Now, let¡¯s incorporate your chaos flames into this.¡±

    Kylas¡¯ grin widened. ¡°Oh, hell yes. Come on, come on¡ª!¡±

    Seraph bonked Kylas on the head, saying, ¡°Be patient, filthy human.¡±

    ¡°Ow! Stop fucking hitting me!¡±

    ¡°No. Now listen.¡±

    Seraph¡¯s expression remained calm, but there was something knowing in her gaze. ¡°In your past life, in the other world crafted from the Sphere, you created magic skills based on this system. You wove magic together.¡±

    Kylas¡¯ grip on his feather tightened. Something inside him stirred. The echoes of another life, another self. He had no memories of it, but hearing Seraph say it again and again made it feel real.

    Seraph folded her arms. ¡°I saw some of those techniques myself. And I¡¯ll teach you the ones I remember. You were close to my mother, and the fox-kin, and I never knew exactly why. But they always remained close.¡±

    Kylas shot up to his feet so fast it startled Gunthr and Zedlock. His grin was wolfish now, full of sharp excitement.

    ¡°Alright then,¡± he said, cracking his knuckles. ¡°Let¡¯s see what I can really do.¡±

    Gunthr raised both gauntlets to the sky in triumph. Zedlock, ever the dramatist, clutched his own head, feigning a faint.

    Kylas¡¯ grin hadn¡¯t faded since the lesson began, his excitement a wildfire barely contained, but as Seraph continued explaining, his expression slowly contorted into something between intense concentration and profound confusion. She had crafted intricate diagrams into the dirt, sweeping lines and curling symbols that glowed faintly as she traced them with one elegant clawed finger. The way she moved¡ªso fluid, so deliberate¡ªwas mesmerizing, and though Kylas tried his best to focus on the words, he found his mind flickering toward the way the lantern-light caught in her silver fur, how her ears twitched slightly when she spoke. He forced himself to look back at the runes. Right. Magic. That¡¯s why he was here.

    But it was getting complicated. Too complicated. Something about the structure of the runes, the interwoven nature of their meaning¡ªevery symbol was a sentence, every sentence a spell, every spell a risk. He felt like he was in a philosophy class instead of a magic lesson. Seraph¡¯s voice carried an almost melodic quality as she continued, effortlessly explaining concepts that made Kylas¡¯ head spin.

    Kylas scratched his head with a nervous chuckle, ¡°Hey uh..I¡¯m still kinda confused with these spells and stuff.¡±

    ¡°The Runes of Bahamut are not just spells, you fool,¡± she said, flicking her tail as she eyed him. ¡°They are statements made against reality itself. If you don¡¯t fully understand what you¡¯re saying, you won¡¯t just fail to cast a spell¡ªyou¡¯ll break something fundamental, and reality will make you pay for it.¡±

    She sighed, clearly noticing the vacant, overwhelmed look in his eyes.

    ¡°For example,¡± she said, drawing another pattern into the dirt with sharp precision, ¡°IZH-YALH-ZOH. ¡®Fire¡¯ plus ¡®Growth¡¯ plus ¡®Instantaneous.¡¯ That would create an expanding burst of flame, yes? Now, if you were to modify it, say¡­ VAKH-KOT-RATZ, that would mean ¡®Shadow¡¯ plus ¡®Consumption¡¯ plus ¡®Lingering,¡¯ which¡ª¡±

    ¡°A shadow that eats light over time,¡± Kylas muttered, surprising himself by catching on.

    Seraph raised an eyebrow, pleased. ¡°Good. And this?¡± She drew another set: ERH-VEZ-KESH.

    Kylas frowned, gears turning in his head. ¡°Time¡­ shatter¡­ paradoxical?¡±

    ¡°And?¡±

    His eyes widened. ¡°It would break time in that spot. Cause reality to piss out or some shit. Easy. No big deal.¡±

    ¡®So people can create their own magic skills and spells based on these runes¡­¡¯

    Seraph nodded, but then, without warning, she flicked his ear, and before he could react, she reached up and pulled it sharply.

    ¡°Ow, what the hell?!¡± Kylas yanked himself back, rubbing his ear while she huffed.

    ¡°Because you still don¡¯t understand the cost,¡± she said, folding her arms. ¡°Magic isn¡¯t just about knowing what a spell does¡ªit¡¯s about knowing what you lose when you cast it. The stronger the spell, the greater the price. And if you overreach your knowledge, reality erases you.¡±

    Kylas stared at her, quiet now, absorbing the weight of her words. He had always thought magic as a tool based on what his parents would tell him¡ªsomething to wield, something to burn brighter and stronger until nothing stood in his way. But this was something else.

    Seraph exhaled, shaking her head. ¡°Alright. Enough theory. You¡¯re going to learn by doing.¡± She sat down in the dirt, smoothing her robes, and then¡ªwithout warning¡ªshe reached out, took his hands, and held them in hers.

    Kylas stiffened, his cheeks flustered, his heart thumped.

    ¡®No way..¡¯

    This was terrifying. Seraph¡¯s hands were smaller than his but firm, her fingers barely pressing against his skin, and he had never¡ª

    ¡ªnever held a girl¡¯s hand before.

    His brain shut down.

    ¡®What the hell what the hell what the hell¡ª?!¡¯

    His palms were suddenly too hot. Not because of his magic¡ªjust because of her. He swallowed hard, his entire body rigid, forcing himself to look anywhere but at the way her fingers curled around his own, guiding him into the formation.

    ¡®Focus, Kylas, don¡¯t be weird. It¡¯s just hands. Just hands. Hands touching. Hands holding. Hands. Her hands. Your hands. Together. No¡ªstop thinking like that! Just focus on the magic! MAGIC, damn it!¡¯

    His face was burning. Not his flames. Just him. Just his own stupid, untrained, utterly useless social skills.

    Seraph, completely oblivious to his internal crisis, closed her eyes, her voice softer now. ¡°Follow my lead.¡±

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    Kylas swallowed hard. Nodded. And tried his best to pretend he wasn¡¯t falling apart at the seams.

    The silence between them stretched long and unbroken, a stillness thick with concentration. Kylas sat cross-legged, hands still entwined with Seraph¡¯s, struggling to drown out everything but the rhythm of his own breathing. The warmth of her fingers was a constant presence, grounding him, forcing him to focus¡ªbut his mind wavered. His flames had always been wild, untamed, an extension of his fury rather than something controlled. This was different. This was deliberate, a slow reshaping of power into something more than destruction.

    Seraph exhaled, a steady breath that carried the scent of embers and wild earth. ¡°Your affinity isn¡¯t just fire, Kylas,¡± she murmured, voice carrying a strange reverence. ¡°It¡¯s a Divine Affinity. Flaming Hex. Chaos Fire. Everyone is born with an affinity, and using the tunes of Bahamut, one can weave new skills and spells based on their affinity. And like your 10 false gods of this world, they also have a Divine Affinity, but they could hold hundreds of spells and skills in their arsenal.¡±

    ¡°Hundreds?! And you want us to hunt them down and kill them one by one?!¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Seraph nodded. ¡°Back to your power, It doesn¡¯t just burn. It erases. It¡¯s fire that doesn¡¯t obey the laws of nature¡ªit follows the laws you impose upon it. They¡¯re waiting for you to shape them.¡±

    His grip unconsciously tightened around her hands. Waiting for him to shape them? The idea sent a shiver through him.

    Seraph guided his breathing, as the flickering embers of rune-etched power stirred within him, he felt something deeper. The potential to craft, not just destroy.

    Seraph shifted, letting go of one of his hands to trace new symbols into the dirt between them. ¡°You¡¯re going to weave your first spells now,¡± she said, her tone gentle but firm. ¡°I¡¯ll guide you through it. Close your eyes.¡±

    He hesitated. Closed them.

    ¡®Damn I¡¯m nervous¡­I got this don¡¯t I? I¡¯m heading towards recreating spells that I supposedly learned in my past life.¡¯

    And suddenly, he was elsewhere.

    The battlefield was endless.

    Kylas stood alone, clad in red-burning armor, its surface cracked and smoking, seething with an infernal glow. His gauntlets dripped with blood, fresh and thick, steaming against the heat of his body. The sky above him churned in deep, apocalyptic reds and blacks, ash falling like snow. The ground beneath his feet was a graveyard of twisted bodies¡ªmen and beasts alike, their flesh half-burned, their bones gleaming through the ruins of their charred forms.

    ¡®Where am I?!¡¯

    The next enemy stood before him, faceless, shifting¡ªa thing made of dark metal and screaming embers. It lunged, too fast¡ª

    ¡°IZH-YALH-ZOH.¡±

    The words were instinct, a whisper in the back of his mind, and the moment they formed, his flaming halo erupted behind him. A sigil of fire seared itself into his enemy¡¯s chest, a brand of divine reckoning.

    Kylas didn¡¯t move¡ªhe was dragged.

    His body snapped forward with inhuman speed, the sigil pulling him through the air like a tethered comet. He barely had time to register his own movement before his fist was already colliding with the brand, knuckles igniting on impact. The fire didn¡¯t just spread¡ªit blossomed, an explosion blooming outward in a devastating inferno.

    ¡®Shit! Shit! Too fast!¡¯

    The enemy froze. Not from hesitation. Not from fear. It simply¡­ could not move. The flames locked it in place, burning away the very concept of motion.

    And then, it shattered.

    Blood and fire rained down, searing the battlefield anew.

    ¡ª

    ¡°Kylas, breathe.¡± Seraph said softly.

    His body jerked. His mouth tasted of copper.

    His eyes snapped open, and he realized his nose was bleeding, his breath ragged, uneven. His ears rang, and he could feel the hot trickle of blood slipping down his neck. Seraph was staring at him, concern laced in her normally serene gaze.

    ¡°You lost control,¡± she said.

    He exhaled sharply, dragging the back of his hand across his nose. ¡°I¡¯ll do it again.¡±

    Seraph hesitated, but nodded.

    ¡®This human¡­he won¡¯t go down easily. This has to be one of the reasons the fox-kin were so intrigued with him in the old world.¡¯

    They began anew.

    ¡ª

    A second vision, just as vivid.

    Kylas¡¯ body moved on instinct, leaping forward, flames licking at his heels. This time, the fire curved unnaturally, extending from his back in a long, serpentine arc¡ªa tail of burning red, stretching across the battlefield.

    ¡°IZH-KOT-MAKH.¡±

    The fire solidified behind him, forming a half-ring, a cage of searing energy. The moment his fists connected with flesh, the ring snapped shut.

    A trap. A prison. A crucible of his own making.

    Inside, the air burned with something deeper than heat. The flames feasted not just on flesh, but on movement itself. The more his enemy flailed, the slower they became, their own actions feeding the inferno. Meanwhile, Kylas only grew faster, hotter, his fists striking like falling meteors.

    Every impact doubled the weight of the flames. Every struggle made the enemy sink further into oblivion.

    ¡ª

    The real world came back in a violent snap.

    Pain wracked his body, a sharp agony pulsing behind his eyes. His ears were bleeding now, a warm, sticky wetness trickling down his jaw.

    ¡°AGH!¡±

    ¡°Kylas, stop.¡±

    Seraph¡¯s voice broke through his haze, and he looked up at her. She was still holding his hand, fingers firm, unshaken, but there was something softer in her eyes now. Kylas had gripped her hands tight to the point where her hands were bruised, but she didn¡¯t react.

    ¡°You need to take a break,¡± she murmured.

    He gritted his teeth, shaking his head. ¡°No.¡±

    Seraph frowned. ¡°You¡¯re letting it overwhelm you. You¡¯re anxious, and it¡¯s making you try and rush this. Calm down.¡±

    Kylas thought, ¡®It¡¯s hard not to be anxious¡­this is the key to getting rid of this damn seal on me and I¡¯ll be able to leave. Maybe I¡¯m being reckless, it¡¯s hard not to be. I might actually be free. Am I really willing to die because of my anxiety¡­? What is wrong with me? Deep breaths¡­¡¯

    He wasn¡¯t going to stop. Not now. Not when he could see it. This power¡ªthis skill¡ªit wasn¡¯t something he could just touch briefly and step away from. It was something he needed to master.

    Seraph exhaled, studying him for a long moment. Then, wordlessly, she gave a small nod.

    ¡°¡­Alright. This is all on you, damn human.¡±

    They sat together once more, hands entwined, and Kylas closed his eyes again.

    The battlefield awaited.

    The fire within Kylas roared again, an infernal wave that flooded his senses as he prepared to try something more¡ªsomething bigger, something that felt more like a part of him than anything he had done before. Seraph had remained patient, guiding him with subtle nods and soft instructions, but Kylas could feel the pressure building, that gnawing hunger to push his limits. His grip on her hand tightened for just a moment before she released him, allowing him to focus fully on the task ahead.

    ¡°Let¡¯s continue,¡± Seraph said, her voice steady but with an edge of encouragement, as she looked over at Gunthr and Zedlock, who were standing nearby, watching with wide, curious eyes.

    Gunthr gave a small clank, tilting his helmet slightly as if asking, what is this magic about? Zedlock, ever the silent one, simply shifted slightly, his dull metal frame scraping ever so slightly against the dirt. Their reactions were, to say the least, endearing.

    Kylas ignored the adorable distractions. His focus was singular now, the potential of his magic swirling like a storm around him. He drew in a breath, steadying himself before he began.

    ¡°IZH-VEZ-KESH.¡±

    As he moved his hand through the air, the fabric of reality itself seemed to tremble. The air split before him, leaving behind a trail of burning fractures¡ªtiny fissures in existence itself. Kylas knew the power was immense. As he continued to weave, the cracks widened, leaving only the smell of sulfur and charred ozone in their wake.

    Anything passing through these rifts was shattered on a molecular level. Kylas could see it as he focused¡ªfragments of reality breaking apart, burning in the aftermath. He pictured his enemy being pulled apart at the seams. The impact of the strike would leave nothing but charred remnants.

    ¡°Control it¡­guide it¡­¡± Seraph said.

    He then lunged forward with an open palm, thrusting it through one of the fractures. The space between him and his target twisted, and the air crackled as his palm collided with the very fabric of reality itself. As his target passed through the rift, the part of them that crossed the fracture was reshaped into living flame. Flesh became fire, burning and twisting in ways that made Kylas¡¯ insides curl.

    It wasn¡¯t enough just to strike¡ªit was about tearing apart the very essence of his enemy. The moment he clenched his fist, the living flame shattered, leaving nothing but hollowed, vacant wounds.

    Kylas stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, the image of his destructive magic lingering in his mind like an aftertaste.

    But it wasn¡¯t enough.

    He could feel his flames inside him¡ªlike a beast clawing for release. He didn¡¯t want to stop. He wanted more.

    ¡°IZH-MAKH-VAZH.¡± Seraph said, wanting Kylas to hear it, and control it, and guide it towards his soul.

    This time, his body felt like it was burning from the inside out. The fire wasn¡¯t just in his veins; it was in his very soul. He grabbed at the air, slamming his hand down into the dirt with a primal force that sent shockwaves through the ground. His fingers seared into the earth, leaving scorched marks behind. The symbol burned brightly¡ªan iridescent pulse of light, shimmering with the weight of fate itself.

    As he stood over his imaginary foe, Kylas grinned through the pain. His body wasn¡¯t just moving¡ªit was reshaping time itself. With each strike, the mark he left on his enemy folded. The hits he landed replayed, each attack becoming a recursive loop. A punch became two, a cut became three.

    It was agony¡ªbut he reveled in it. He was slightly, very slightly, rewriting the laws of reality, his flames hexing it.

    Each successive hit landed with an echo, each strike compounding the pain until the enemy could no longer stand. It was like carving time itself into cinders. By the end, the target¡ªif it had ever truly been there¡ªwas nothing but a pile of smoldering ashes.

    Kylas didn¡¯t give himself a moment to pause. The fire inside him was only growing.

    ¡°IZH-YALH-KESH.¡± Seraph said.

    His flames exploded outward in a wild arc as he launched himself forward. The ring of fire behind him expanded, burning with unrelenting fury. He could feel the air pressure shift, the intense heat making the dirt beneath his feet turn to dust. He folded into himself as his body collapsed into the shape of a flame, vanishing into the enemy¡¯s shadow with the ease of a predator hunting its prey.

    Then, as if time itself had broken, he erupted from behind them, flipping the entire sequence on its head. He wasn¡¯t where he had started. He wasn¡¯t where he should have been. Time reversed around him, leaving only the streak of heat that followed in his wake.

    His opponent was yanked off their feet by the backlash of heat, the air itself trembling with his return. As Kylas drove them into the ground, he let the fire explode inside their body. Their flesh burned, igniting them from the inside out. He could almost see it¡ªlike a human-shaped lantern, radiating the divine judgment of his fury. It was beautiful.

    But the price of such destruction was steep.

    Back to reality, As Kylas stood there, his body battered from the exertion, he felt the weight of his own power crash down on him. Sweat clung to his skin, the blood from his nose dripping freely onto the dirt beneath him. His breaths were ragged, his chest rising and falling as his body tried to process the sheer magnitude of the magic he had just unleashed.

    Then, his knees buckled.

    ¡°Rggghhh¡­.¡±

    Kylas collapsed onto the ground, his hands instinctively reaching for the earth to steady himself. Blood pooled his mouth, a steady flow leaking from his lips as he struggled to stay conscious. His ears rang, and every movement felt like dragging a mountain.

    Seraph was by his side in an instant, her expression unreadable, but there was something gentle in the way she knelt beside him. Her hand reached to rest on his shoulder, the coolness of her touch sending a brief shock through his body.

    ¡°Human, it¡¯s time to stop.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Kylas growled through clenched teeth, his vision swimming. ¡°Not yet.¡±

    But then, his arms refused to move.

    ¡®Shit!¡¯

    He blinked once, twice, trying to lift his hands¡ªbut they were as still as stone. His body had betrayed him, frozen in place. And then, in his dazed state, the full weight of the situation hit him, and for the first time since they began, he let out a weak, exhausted chuckle.

    ¡°Well, this is a new one,¡± he muttered, feeling a small grin creep onto his lips despite the pain. ¡°I can¡¯t move my arms.¡±

    Seraph¡¯s lips twitched upward in a barely perceptible smile, though she said nothing, simply giving him a knowing look. ¡°TOLD YOU! FOOL! I TOLD YOU TO STOP BEING ANXIOUS!¡±

    ¡°SHADDUP! I CAN¡¯T HELP IT! THIS IS ALL NEW!¡±

    Kylas tried again, his legs wobbly as he rolled over, grunting as he pushed his arms into the ground, attempting to push himself up. He wasn¡¯t going to let this defeat him. His muscles burned, his bones screamed, but he would not stay down¡ªhe couldn¡¯t afford to.

    ¡°AGHHH! MY DAMN ARMS.¡±

    ¡®This is embarrassing.¡¯

    But every attempt was futile. Instead, he just kept rolling around like a human tumbleweed.

    ¡°This can¡¯t be happening,¡± Kylas muttered, his voice hoarse, his body groaning with every movement. He couldn¡¯t even get up on his feet. How humiliating. His limbs felt as though they¡¯d turned to stone, and his head was spinning from the violent exertion. ¡°This is so not how I imagined this going.¡±

    Seraph¡¯s calm laughter cut through the air, a quiet, melodious sound that made Kylas bristle with both frustration and a dash of annoyance. She wasn¡¯t even trying to hide her amusement.

    ¡°Do you always roll around like this when you¡¯re overwhelmed? Gross,¡± she commented, her voice a mix of humor and exasperation. Her gaze followed him with an amused, almost fond air as he rolled closer to the wooden house. ¡°What are you doing now?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m hungry now!¡± Kylas replied, his voice muffled as he rolled toward the structure, the grass swishing around him. He wasn¡¯t going to let this be the end of his pride. ¡°I need food. Maybe I can crawl into the kitchen and find something.¡±

    Seraph raised an eyebrow, stepping forward. Her foot, graceful as always, landed with a soft thud on his chest, halting his rolling. She looked down at him, unfazed by his antics, her face a picture of composed elegance.

    ¡°I¡¯ve checked your stock,¡± she said with an almost dismissive tone. ¡°You¡¯ve got nothing but plants and vegetables. Honestly, what kind of man doesn¡¯t have a decent supply of meat?¡±

    Kylas groaned in protest. ¡°Plants are fine, fox demon. I can survive off grass like a cow.¡±

    Seraph¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile. ¡°You¡¯re more likely to become a walking vegetable yourself if you don¡¯t start eating some protein.¡±

    ¡°Awww, Is it that you¡¯re worried about me?¡± Kylas teased, his voice dripping with mock sweetness.

    Seraph¡¯s smile vanished, and without a word, she stepped down firmly on his head, her foot pressing into his scalp with a kind of playful dominance. Kylas yelped, his face squished into the grass beneath him, and all he could do was blink up at her.

    ¡°No, fool,¡± Seraph said coldly, her heart unexpectedly skipping a beat. Her gaze softened for a split second, but she turned away quickly, not allowing him to see it. ¡°I just don¡¯t want to see you starve on my watch. Plus, I can¡¯t have you being weak when we kill the gods.¡±

    Kylas huffed in frustration, but a grin tugged at his lips despite his situation. ¡°Yeah, well, I can¡¯t exactly go out either. So I use my parents'' ingredients and their insane supply of it to grow my own food. Badass right?¡±

    Seraph chuckled, clearly not fazed by his complaints. ¡°Tch. Hopeless. I¡¯ll go out and hunt for you.¡±

    Her words made Kylas pause, his brows knitting together in confusion. ¡°Hunt? You? Of course, you¡¯re a fox demon. You always hunt down prey.¡±

    Seraph nodded, her posture shifting slightly as she glanced at the sky, her eyes gleaming with quiet pride. ¡°My people¡ªthe fox-kin¡ªare known for their ability to hunt. It¡¯s in our nature.¡± She glanced at him sideways, her lips curling into a subtle, predatory smile.

    Kylas, still on the ground and starting to regain a little more of his mobility thanks to Gunthr and Zedlock lifting him, groaned as he slumped in their arms. ¡°Well, you better not die, you hear me? I still need you around to teach me how to actually stand up and wipe my ass.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not funny.¡±

    ¡°Also, I have things to ask you.¡±

    Seraph glanced over her shoulder, the faintest smirk playing at her lips as she walked toward the boundary of the garden.

    As Gunthr and Zedlock shuffled him toward the wooden house, Kylas turned his head to look at Seraph¡¯s retreating figure. He gave a tired, lopsided grin as she moved toward the edge of the garden.

    She was already gone, disappearing into the thick greenery surrounding the home.

    And all the while, the large, black sphere in the sky sat motionless, casting an ominous shadow over the peaceful landscape. The sun shone brightly, but there was a palpable tension in the air, something that couldn¡¯t be ignored.

    It just sat there, watching.

 Chapter 6: The Wild Hunt

    ¡®¡ªWhat in the hell was that?¡¯ Seraph thought.

    ¡®Why did I even offer to hunt for that reckless idiot? Was it really just because he needs protein? That excuse was pathetic. Kylas was supposed to be a king in the old world before it was destroyed and reset. He was someone whose power was tied to Divine Affinity itself, and yet here I was, acting as if simple sustenance could make a difference for him.¡¯

    ¡®It barely even matters to someone like him. That kind of nourishment is wasted on a being meant to rule. ¡­Then why did I say it? Was it because I know? Because I can see it? That he¡¯s trying to do something different? That he¡¯s sick of the same miserable cycle, eating grass like a foolish cow, day in and day out?¡¯

    ¡°¡­It doesn¡¯t matter. It¡¯s meaningless. I have no feelings toward that reckless human.¡± Seraph muttered to herself under her breath, stepping over the thick roots that curled like veins beneath the sunlit canopy of the forest. ¡°I don¡¯t. I really don¡¯t.¡±

    The leaves rustled overhead as if disagreeing.

    She exhaled sharply, her ears twitching as she continued onward, letting her mind shift elsewhere. ¡°His determination, though¡­¡± she mused to herself. ¡°It is something I can slightly admire. He¡¯s just like me in that way. Even if he¡¯s crazy.¡±

    The further she walked, the denser the air became, heavy with the scents of prey, predators, and something even greater. She closed her eyes, inhaling slowly, letting the raw essence of this world sink into her mind.

    ¡®The food chain in Nyxhelm¡­ it has always been this way. Through every destruction, every recreation, the laws remain unchanged. No matter what world comes after the last, there is always one apex predator that stands above the rest.¡¯

    ¡®Griffins.¡¯

    ¡®They sit at the throne of the natural order, no matter the era, no matter how many times existence is reset. They are neither gods nor simple beasts. They are the absolute rulers of the hunt. If the world ends, they will be at the top when it is made anew. If the world is reborn, they will claim dominance again.¡¯

    Seraph¡¯s steps quickened as her nose caught something distinct¡ªthick with the scent of fresh blood, of cracked bones, of something massive and undeniable.

    ¡®This way!¡¯

    Her sharp eyes flicked toward the horizon, tracing the shifting air currents, the drifting smell of a creature she had been hoping to find.

    ¡®I bet Kylas has never tried griffin meat¡­ she thought, a small, mischievous glint in her eye. He¡¯ll probably like it and beg me for more like a weirdo.¡¯

    She smirked to herself, stepping forward as the terrain began to shift. The trees thinned, giving way to a vast, open canyon, its depths carved by ancient forces long before even this version of the world was born.

    It was empty.

    At first.

    But as she walked deeper into its heart, the silence was devoured by the unmistakable sound of tearing flesh.

    She stilled, her breath steady, her golden eyes locking onto the scene ahead.

    A griffin.

    Perfect. Massive.

    Its golden feathers gleamed beneath the eternal sun, each one sharper than a blade, reflecting the light like a living weapon. Its powerful wings, partially folded, twitched every so often as it continued its feast. Muscles coiled beneath its pristine exterior, every movement measured, precise, as its hooked beak ripped through what remained of a human body.

    The ground around it was a graveyard.

    Bodies of Hunters lay in grotesque displays¡ªsome torn clean in half, their entrails steaming against the sunbaked rock, others crushed beyond recognition, their armor embedded into the canyon walls like discarded scraps. Among them, mythic creatures¡ªbeasts of legend, their corpses twisted and hollowed, drained of everything that once made them formidable.

    And one man was still alive.

    Barely.

    ¡°Help¡­help me¡­¡±

    His voice was raw from screaming, but the griffin did not care. It took its time, savoring each moment as the hunter¡¯s cries turned to weak, broken sobs. Then, without hesitation, it closed its beak around his head.

    A sickening crack.

    Silence.

    Seraph exhaled, unaffected. This was natural. Something she¡¯s seen hundreds of maybe even thousands of times.

    The griffin finished its meal, its throat bobbing as it swallowed before turning. It stood to its full height, stretching, its form radiating both power and something beyond mere hunger.

    Majesty.

    Lightning cracked through the sky, stark white against the endless blue.

    The griffin¡¯s wings spread, catching the static in the air, its golden eyes sharpening as it regarded her.

    Seraph watched, noting its movements¡ªhow its talons flexed, how its wings adjusted their angle ever so slightly. She knew what this meant.

    ¡°You can sense me, can¡¯t you?¡± she murmured, more to herself than to the beast.

    Griffins had an innate ability to detect worthy opponents. Their bodies responded before their minds even processed the threat. This one had just finished gorging itself, yet it still bristled, muscles tightening, feathers flaring¡ªnot in fear, but in acknowledgment.

    Seraph smiled.

    She stepped forward.

    The griffin mirrored her.

    Slowly.

    One step.

    Then another.

    Faster.

    Their eyes locked, the weight of their presence bending the air between them. The earth trembled beneath each movement, loose rocks shifting, dust rising.

    Then¡ªthey sprinted.

    The force of their acceleration cracked the canyon floor, stone rupturing beneath the sheer force of their strides. The wind howled as they closed the distance, neither slowing, neither hesitating.

    Seraph¡¯s lips curled wider, her sharp teeth flashing.

    Her body began to shift.

    Her form expanded mid-stride, limbs elongating, fur bursting from her skin like divine wildfire. White flames flickered across her four sweeping tails, each movement leaving trails of ghostly embers in the air. Her eyes¡ªspiraling red, yellow, and black¡ªburned like miniature suns, locking onto the griffin with something primal.

    Curved red horns crowned her head, her golden halo shimmering, vibrating with power.

    She could see it¡ªthe recognition in the griffin¡¯s stare.

    Not fear. Not submission.

    Respect.

    Then¡ª

    They collided.

    The canyon exploded with force.

    Stone shattered, entire sections of the cliffside breaking apart, tumbling into the depths below. A shockwave rippled outward, kicking up a whirlwind of debris, a howling storm of dust and rock.

    Their power clashed in a roar of fire and divine might, a collision that sent ripples through the very air, distorting reality itself.

    The ground beneath them fractured, unable to withstand their battle.

    And Seraph¡ªsmiling wider than ever¡ªfelt the thrill of the hunt begin.

    ¡°Now this¡­will be a fight to remember!¡±

    The battle erupted in a shockwave of force, the canyon walls trembling as Seraph and the griffin clashed in a frenzied storm of raw power and primal instinct. The moment their bodies met, a surge of energy detonated between them, sending fissures spider-webbing through the stone beneath their feet. The griffin¡¯s golden talons struck first, slicing downward in a merciless arc, each claw sharp enough to carve through mythic steel. Seraph twisted at the last moment, her four tails snapping outward like white-hot whips, their flames howling as they scorched the air. She vaulted to the side, flipping midair, her spiraling red, yellow, and black eyes locking onto the griffin¡¯s next move. It did not hesitate¡ªits wings flared, and with a single devastating beat, it propelled itself forward like a divine spear, its beak gleaming as it lunged for her throat.

    Seraph met its charge with a savage counter, her body twisting as she coiled her momentum into a spinning slash. Her claws, wreathed in comet-like fire, seared through the air in an incandescent arc. The griffin pulled back just in time, but not before the flames kissed its pristine feathers, leaving a streak of blackened gold in their wake. In retaliation, it reared back, unleashing a tremor cry¡ªa deafening, concussive shockwave that shattered the canyon floor. The force sent boulders flying, the very air distorting as invisible tremors rippled outward. Seraph braced herself, her claws digging into the crumbling earth, but the moment she steadied, the griffin was already upon her, a gilded tempest of death. It twisted mid-flight, its massive talons scything through the air in seamless precision.

    She dodged¡ªbarely. The wind from its strike tore through her fur, and before she could fully reposition, the griffin twisted again, using the momentum of its failed strike to lash out with a brutal wingbeat. The sheer force sent her skidding across the canyon, her paws dragging deep trenches through the shattered ground. But she did not falter. With a flick of her tails, she launched herself back at the beast, her body a burning comet, her claws igniting with celestial fire. She struck in a relentless flurry¡ªeach slash, bite, and strike flowing into the next like a feral ballet. The griffin met her assault with equal ferocity, its beak snapping like a guillotine, its talons carving the air with godlike precision. Sparks and embers exploded between them, their movements so rapid they blurred against the eternal sunlight.

    The griffin lunged again, but this time, its form flickered¡ªan illusion. Before she could react, the real attack came from above. It had split into multiple mirrored versions of itself, a technique known as Aetheric Riftwing. As the phantoms dived, the real griffin descended like a meteor, its beak wreathed in crackling golden energy. Seraph barely had time to pivot, her tails flaring outward, creating a spiraling barrier of fire that incinerated the illusions. But the real griffin¡¯s strike still connected¡ªits beak grazed her side, piercing through fur and flesh, drawing a line of crimson across her ribs. She snarled, the pain fueling her fury, and in a single, brutal motion, she slammed her paw into the ground.

    The earth erupted.

    A white-hot shockwave exploded beneath her, sending a seismic pulse through the battlefield. The griffin was blasted back, its wings flaring wide to stabilize itself midair, but Seraph was already moving. She blurred forward, a streak of flaming white, and struck with merciless precision. She somersaulted over the beast, her tails cleaving through its defenses like celestial whips, leaving gashes of scorched flesh in their wake. The griffin retaliated in kind, twisting its body mid-flight, its golden eyes gleaming as it activated another ability¡ªVoid Requiem.

    The sunlight dimmed.

    For a split second, all sound vanished, as if the world itself held its breath. Then¡ªdetonation. A ring of pure kinetic force erupted from the griffin¡¯s core, sending shockwaves through the very fabric of reality. The blast ripped through Seraph, hurling her backward, her body skidding and bouncing across the canyon like a broken comet. She crashed into a jagged outcrop, the impact cracking the stone like brittle glass. Blood dripped from her mouth, her vision spinning, but she grinned.

    With a feral snarl, she exploded forward, the force of her launch disintegrating the rock behind her. She intercepted the griffin midair, their bodies colliding once more in a titanic clash that sent flames and divine energy spiraling in all directions. They tore into each other¡ªclaws against talons, teeth against beak, raw instinct battling divine supremacy. The griffin flipped midair, vaulting over her strike, then used its own momentum to drive both talons down toward her skull. Seraph twisted, spinning her body like a bladed hurricane, her flaming tails catching the beast¡¯s legs and hurling it back to the earth.

    The griffin crashed with the force of a falling star, but it was undeterred. It unfurled its wings, summoning a storm of gilded spears¡ªeach one a crystallized fragment of its own divine essence. With a single command, they rained down upon her like an executioner¡¯s decree. Seraph sprinted through the onslaught, weaving between the golden lances, each step a blistering burst of speed. The moment she closed the gap, she lunged, her jaws parting wide, her fangs flashing with celestial fire.

    The griffin met her bite head-on.

    Its beak clamped down on her shoulder, tearing through flesh and muscle. The pain was excruciating, but Seraph retaliated with equal brutality. Her claws drove deep into its chest, molten fire bursting from the wounds. They tumbled together, a maelstrom of destruction, rolling across the battlefield in a chaotic whirlwind of talons, fangs, and fire. Each strike came faster than thought, each movement honed by the raw, undeniable force of survival.

    Then, in a final, devastating exchange, they broke apart, both landing on opposite ends of the shattered battlefield. Blood dripped from their bodies, steam rising from the wounds they had inflicted upon each other.

    The griffin exhaled, its wings spreading wide, its golden eyes burning with renewed intensity.

    Seraph wiped the blood from her mouth with her paw, grinning.

    Neither had won.

    Neither had lost.

    The battle was far from over.

    The battlefield had long since ceased to resemble a canyon. The ground was reduced to a wasteland of jagged rock and scorched earth, cratered from their relentless exchanges, split apart by the sheer brutality of their clash. The sky itself trembled, thick clouds swirling from the unnatural forces at play, lightning threading across the heavens in violent, deafening streaks. And amidst the carnage, two titans stood¡ªpanting, bloodied, but far from finished.

    The griffin moved first. Its eyes flared with unnatural luminance, its entire body twisting in an erratic, impossible motion, as if space itself bent around it. One moment, it was standing. The next, it was everywhere. A burst of screeching noise filled the air¡ªa grotesque cacophony that sent shivers down the spine, a sound not meant for mortal ears. In an instant, its talons were upon her, carving through the air in a thousand slashing arcs, each strike phasing between reality and illusion.

    Seraph barely had time to react. Her body twisted into a chaotic, fluid weave of motion, dodging in ways that no normal being should. Her tails flicked and she vanished, reappearing midair, her body outlined in a trail of burning white flames. She let herself fall toward the griffin, spinning at breakneck speed, her claws drawn back. ¡°Comet Fang!¡± Her voice was a feral snarl, and in a flash, her body became a spiraling white meteor, her claws extended like celestial scythes.

    The griffin screeched and retaliated with a violent lunge, its beak snapping toward her with horrifying speed. They collided in a catastrophic blur¡ªwhite fire against golden divinity¡ªboth landing a strike. Seraph¡¯s claws ripped through the beast¡¯s chest, carving into its flesh in a cruel, jagged tear. But in return, the griffin¡¯s beak pierced her shoulder, sinking deep, nearly crushing the bone. Blood exploded from the wound, a spray of crimson painting the shattered ground below.

    She snarled, but there was no time to feel pain. The griffin spun its entire body, dragging her with it, slamming her into the rock with earth-shattering force. Stone collapsed beneath the impact, and before she could recover, its talons descended upon her, raking through her back in a wicked, merciless flurry. Flesh tore. Blood splattered. Seraph¡¯s body convulsed as pain lanced through her nerves like liquid fire. The griffin didn¡¯t stop. It gripped her and hurled her skyward, its wings slamming downward with a crack like thunder, propelling itself after her.

    Seraph flipped midair, twisting to regain control. Her teeth were bared, her breath ragged, but her eyes burned with fury. ¡°You¡¯re not the only one that can fly, bastard.¡± Her tails coiled, flickering, then exploded outward, sending her rocketing toward the beast. As she moved, the flames at the tip of each tail began to burn inward, collapsing in on themselves into spiraling, unstable spheres. ¡°Comet Burial..¡± She unleashed them all at once.

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    The spheres screeched through the air, their cores twisting with gravitational force, each one seeking the griffin like a living curse. The moment they touched anything, they imploded, consuming matter in their ravenous wake before detonating in bursts of violent, white-hot destruction. The griffin saw the incoming attack and reacted with its own. It spread its wings wide and from its beak, it vomited a storm of black tendrils¡ªAbyssal Maw. The writhing mass surged forward, grotesque and pulsing, consuming everything it touched.

    Explosion after explosion rocked the sky, the white-hot comets colliding against the abyssal mass, their energies warring for dominance. Seraph shot through the chaos, weaving through the spiraling carnage, her body flickering between the destruction. The griffin emerged from the other side, unscathed, already prepared for its next move. It spread its wings and blinked.

    Seraph felt it before she saw it.

    Everywhere.

    The griffin¡¯s form splintered into dozens¡ªno, hundreds¡ªof blurring afterimages, all flickering in and out of existence, their forms twisting, contorting. ¡°Prism Hunt.¡± The voice came from all around her, guttural, discordant.

    And then they descended.

    A storm of beaks and talons rained down upon her, every single image moving as fast as reality allowed. It was impossible to tell which were real, which were fake¡ªeach one felt solid, each one tore at her flesh, raking through her fur, sinking into her body. Seraph¡¯s vision went red as her body was torn apart in an unrelenting cascade of divine carnage. Her breath hitched. She was losing too much blood.

    ¡®No. Not yet!¡¯

    She grit her teeth and stopped thinking.

    Her body reacted on instinct, every muscle firing in perfect, lethal precision. She lunged into the storm, meeting every strike with her own. Claw met beak. Fang met talon. Her tails lashed out, carving through flesh and illusion alike, white fire burning away the false images. She spun, somersaulted, ducked under a wing, twisted behind another form, raked her claws across a throat, felt the wet warmth of real blood spill over her fingers.

    The illusions shattered.

    The real griffin remained.

    It roared, rearing back, its divine essence gathering into a final attack. Its beak parted, and within, a sphere of concentrated, pulsating divinity formed¡ªa Celestial Maw, a beam of such raw destruction that nothing had ever survived its direct path.

    Seraph grinned, finally.

    She let herself fall.

    Her body shrank, shifting back into her humanoid form, limbs weak, body stained in crimson. She let gravity take her, her movements sluggish, deliberate. The griffin¡¯s eyes widened as it realized too late¡ªshe was falling toward its open mouth.

    ¡®Got you, bitch.¡¯

    The last thing she saw before impact was the look of realization dawning in the griffin¡¯s gaze, and the next thing was darkness as her blood-drenched body disappeared inside.

    The griffin screeched, its entire form lurching violently, wings spasming as it spiraled out of control, crashing through the heavens like a dying sun.

    The sky split apart with chaotic flares of divine power, arcs of celestial light spiraling in uncontrolled bursts as the griffin twisted through the heavens, its form writhing in agony. The great beast, once a symbol of pristine strength and perfect balance, was now nothing but a flailing mass of golden feathers and shattered divinity, its wings convulsing with every erratic beat. The sheer force of its spiraling descent sent hurricane winds tearing through the canyon, splitting boulders, uprooting trees, and sending shockwaves that cracked the very crust of the world.

    Inside the beast, drowning in suffocating heat and oppressive muscle, Seraph tore. Her body was slick with blood¡ªher own and the griffin¡¯s¡ªher breath ragged, her limbs screaming in pain, but she did not stop. Her sharp fingers carved deep, slashing through thick tissue, her movements feral, relentless. Each strike sent fresh fountains of crimson spraying around her, splattering against her face, soaking her already-drenched form in visceral gore. The griffin spasmed with every wound she inflicted, its innards tightening and flexing in a desperate attempt to purge her, but she dug deeper.

    She was losing blood at a terrifying rate. Her vision blurred, her limbs trembled, but she grinned through bloodied teeth, eyes burning with feverish determination.

    ¡°You¡¯re done.¡±

    Her claws sank into flesh once more, and then she felt it¡ªthe thrum of life itself pulsing beneath her fingers. The griffin¡¯s heart.

    With one last, brutal lunge, she buried her hands into it and ripped.

    The griffin screamed.

    It wasn¡¯t a cry of pain¡ªit was something beautiful. A raw, ethereal wail that resonated through the heavens, a final song of majesty before the inevitable end. Its golden eyes, wide and shining, turned toward the sky, its gaze locked onto the endless expanse above. In that fleeting moment, it looked divine, as if it had accepted its fate with grace, as if it had always known it would die this way.

    And then, its wings gave out.

    The spiraling descent collapsed into a plummet. The sky blurred, the wind howled, and with a deafening, world-shaking impact, the griffin crashed.

    A shockwave of dust and shattered stone erupted outward, consuming the entire canyon in a suffocating cloud. The impact cratered the land, splitting the ground with deep, jagged fractures. For long moments, nothing moved. No sound. No breath. Only stillness.

    Then¡ª

    A wet, blood-soaked figure crawled from the ruined corpse.

    Seraph emerged slowly, her entire body trembling, every movement agony. She dragged herself free, her hands sinking into the dirt, her fingers caked with gore. Her breathing was ragged, each inhale feeling like fire in her lungs, but despite the pain¡ªdespite the blood pooling beneath her¡ªshe smiled.

    She rolled onto her back, staring up at the storm-ridden sky, the distant echoes of thunder rumbling like the final applause of a cruel audience. Her tails flicked weakly, her body refusing to move any further.

    ¡°That was fun.¡±

    She laughed¡ªweak, breathless, but real.

    ____________________________________________

    Within the quiet sanctuary of the garden, Kylas crawled toward a single, delicate rose, but stopped just a few feet away. The air before him shimmered, an unseen force pressing against his skin¡ªthe barrier. He exhaled slowly, his body tense, before finally slumping forward, resting his arms on his knees.

    His single crimson eye softened as he stared at the flower.

    ¡°I¡¯m back, again.¡±

    His voice was quiet, almost tired, but there was something genuine in it.

    ¡°A lot¡¯s happened.¡±

    He tilted his head slightly, watching as the petals of the rose swayed gently in the breeze.

    ¡°Don¡¯t mind if I talk your ear off¡­¡±

    Kylas lay there, his arms still limp at his sides, eyes half-lidded as he stared at the rose swaying gently in the breeze beyond the invisible barrier. His fingers twitched, his body still unwilling to obey him fully, but his mind¡ªhis mind was a storm that refused to quiet. He exhaled slowly, lips pressing into a thin line before he finally spoke.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been learning about the Runes of Bahamut,¡± he murmured, the words rolling off his tongue like a half-formed thought. ¡°They¡¯re¡­ different. You don¡¯t just memorize some old language and get hand-me-down powers. You create your own. It¡¯s like carving out pieces of yourself and making them into something real. Something powerful.¡±

    He inhaled sharply, shifting slightly, trying to find comfort in the grass beneath him, though his body felt heavy. ¡°Sounds great, right? Making your own magic? Your own laws?¡± He let out a dry chuckle. ¡°Except I already feel reckless. Anxious. Like I should be moving but I can¡¯t. Like I should be thinking straight but all I want to do is break something just to see what happens.¡±

    His gaze flickered, his single crimson eye darkening.

    ¡°I¡¯m trying not to be like that. Trying to be better. But it¡¯s not easy.¡±

    A pause. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face.

    ¡°For a second¡ªjust a second¡ªI was thankful I met that evil fox demon.¡±

    The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he immediately huffed, shaking his head. ¡°She¡¯s still a menace, though. You¡¯d think someone with that much elegance and poise wouldn¡¯t be so¡ªso¡ª¡± He waved his still-paralyzed hand weakly in the air, searching for the word. ¡°Infuriating. Yeah, that¡¯s the word. But still¡­¡±

    His voice softened, his gaze drifting lower.

    ¡°If I leave, I can¡¯t just leave you here.¡±

    The rose remained silent, its petals as still as ever, as if waiting for him to continue.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if you¡¯d die if I plucked you from the ground. And that¡­ that thought makes me sick.¡±

    A slow, deep sigh escaped him.

    ¡°I don¡¯t feel as lost anymore. I guess that¡¯s something, right?¡± He let his head rest against the grass, staring up at the sky. ¡°But I won¡¯t lie¡­ I¡¯m scared. Nineteen years. Nineteen years in this place, and now I can finally leave.¡± He snorted, shaking his head. ¡°I know, I know, it¡¯s pathetic. But I ain¡¯t no wuss. I¡¯m ready for it. I just¡­ I don¡¯t know what¡¯s waiting out there for me.¡±

    His fingers twitched, curling slightly.

    ¡°I won¡¯t be the monster my parents told everyone I was. I promise that.¡±

    ¡®I won¡¯t lose myself to this chaotic power of mine..I won¡¯t lose myself before I find out who I really am. I can¡¯t¡­¡¯

    Then¡ªhe noticed it.

    The smallest blemish on the edge of the rose¡¯s petal. A darkened, thin layer of rot.

    His breath hitched. His pulse hammered in his ears.

    ¡°No¡ª¡±

    His body moved on instinct. His hand shot forward, fingers stretching past the barrier¡ª

    And pain.

    A sharp, blinding bolt of agony exploded in his skull. His nose burst with blood, hot rivulets streaming down his lips, staining his chin. His vision blurred, his mind screamed, and he let out a strangled gasp, his body seizing up as if he¡¯d been struck by lightning.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare rot on me,¡± he rasped through clenched teeth, his voice thick with desperation. ¡°Don¡¯t be like me.¡±

    His throat tightened, his breathing coming in ragged gulps.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be a rotting corpse trapped in this damn place.¡±

    His limbs trembled, his vision swimming. The barrier pulsed, rejecting him, forcing him back.

    ¡°Once I get my arms working again, I¡¯ll water you. Even if it makes my head explode.¡±

    A pair of shadows loomed over him.

    Gunthr and Zedlock.

    They didn¡¯t speak¡ªthey never did¡ªbut their presence alone was grounding. Gently, yet firmly, they pulled him away from the rose. And the moment they did, the pain lessened. The nosebleed stopped. His vision cleared. But the unease in his chest remained.

    He let out a slow breath, letting them guide him away.

    ¡ª

    A memory.

    A little boy, no older than five, running barefoot through the garden, laughing, his heart full of wonder.

    His tiny hands brushed against the petals of the rose, eyes wide with fascination.

    ¡°It¡¯s so pretty!¡± he had exclaimed, twirling around it, his grin as bright as the sun overhead.

    The rose had swayed in response, almost as if acknowledging him.

    For a moment, in that childhood memory, he had felt happy. Truly happy.

    ¡ª

    Kylas blinked, his mind snapping back to the present. Gunthr and Zedlock had stopped walking. Their armored hands raised, pointing ahead.

    He followed their gesture, turning his head¡ª

    And his breath caught in his throat.

    Seraph was approaching, her form covered in blood. Scars littered her skin, crimson streaks painting her once-pristine white fur. Behind her, dragged through the dirt, was the massive, lifeless body of the griffin¡ªits golden feathers drenched in gore, its divine presence utterly snuffed out.

    His single eye widened.

    ¡°Seraph?!¡±

    His voice cracked.

    She didn¡¯t stop walking. Didn¡¯t say a word. Just kept dragging the corpse behind her, her expression unreadable, her golden eyes burning with something he couldn¡¯t quite place.

    Kylas couldn¡¯t move his arms, still feeling the dull, frustrating numbness lingering from the pain earlier, but his mouth worked just fine¡ªand right now, his head was spinning with too many questions, all of them tripping over each other to spill out.

    ¡°Wait, hold on¡ªhow the hell did you¡ªwhere did you even¡ªwhy are you¡ªwhat even¡ª¡± He sucked in a sharp breath, his crimson eye darting to the massive, bloodied carcass of the griffin. It was an overwhelming sight¡ªthe beast¡¯s once-majestic form now reduced to a mangled pile of muscle and feathers, its divine aura long since extinguished. He looked back at Seraph, eyes wide. ¡°You actually killed it?¡±

    Seraph, still covered in fresh wounds and drying blood, flicked her tails dismissively, eyes half-lidded. ¡°I killed the griffin.¡±

    Kylas blinked. ¡°Yeah, I got that, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°I killed the griffin.¡±

    ¡°Seraph¡ª¡±

    ¡°I killed the griffin.¡±

    He deadpanned. ¡°You¡¯re¡ªseriously, you¡¯re just gonna keep saying it like that?¡±

    She didn¡¯t even look at him, simply tilting her head toward Gunthr and Zedlock. ¡°Griffin meat is good and tasty. You better like it.¡±

    The two sentient suits of armor straightened at once, their hands snapping up in synchronized salutes, their helmets clanking slightly from the force of their movement.

    Seraph nodded approvingly. ¡°I¡¯ll show you how to cook it.¡±

    Kylas just sat there, struggling to comprehend the sheer absurdity of the situation. His mind was still reeling from the idea that Seraph had just casually returned after nearly getting herself killed¡ªdragging back a divine beast¡¯s corpse¡ªfor¡­ for what? For food?

    The words tumbled out before he could stop them.

    ¡°You seriously went out there and risked your life just to bring back meat?¡±

    Seraph finally turned to look at him, tilting her head slightly as if he had just asked the dumbest question imaginable. ¡°Yes.¡±

    He just¡­ stared at her. Waiting for a better answer.

    Then, after a beat, she added, ¡°And don¡¯t go thinking I did it for you.¡±

    Kylas scoffed. ¡°Right. Sure. Of course not.¡±

    Seraph crossed her arms, tails flicking behind her. ¡°I just didn¡¯t want to see you chewing on grass and trees like some pathetic feral animal.¡±

    Kylas scoffed louder. ¡°I don¡¯t eat grass and trees, you evil fox demon!¡±

    Seraph merely shrugged, turning her attention back to the task at hand.

    Kylas sat there for a moment, just watching her, watching how she seamlessly took command of the situation, how Gunthr and Zedlock followed her lead without hesitation. She had gone that far just to bring back food, even though she had no real reason to.

    Even his parents had never gone that far for him.

    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª-

    The sun remained as ever, casting golden light over the garden as Seraph worked with the grace of a knight captain preparing for battle. But this wasn¡¯t war. This was medieval cuisine.

    The garden, once a place of quiet overgrowth, was suddenly bustling with the chaotic energy of a makeshift battlefield as Seraph directed Gunthr and Zedlock to set up an elaborate, multi-step cooking station¡ªone befitting the dignity of griffin meat.

    ¡°First, we must prepare the fire,¡± Seraph declared, standing with one hand on her hip. ¡°Gunthr, Zedlock¡ªfetch firewood.¡±

    The two suits of armor saluted with resounding clanks before marching off¡ªonly for Zedlock to return a moment later, holding an entire tree trunk.

    Seraph blinked. ¡°That is¡­ larger than necessary.¡±

    Zedlock stared at the tree trunk in his hands, then at Gunthr, who had brought back a single twig.

    A moment of silence passed between them.

    Then, Gunthr dropped the twig and dramatically gestured toward Zedlock¡¯s tree trunk as if to say, ¡°Yes, this is what I meant to do all along.¡±

    Seraph sighed but ultimately nodded. ¡°Very well. We¡¯ll make do.¡±

    The tree trunk somehow became firewood, and the fire was soon roaring with crackling intensity.

    Step Two: Prepping the Meat.

    Seraph, still exuding the air of a seasoned commander, turned to Gunthr and Zedlock again. ¡°Now, we must prepare the meat. Precision is key.¡±

    Gunthr gave a confident thumbs-up before immediately slicing off a chunk the size of Kylas.

    Kylas, still slumped on a sack of grain, just raised a brow. ¡°I don¡¯t know much about cooking, but I¡¯m pretty sure you don¡¯t need that much.¡±

    Seraph barely acknowledged him, instead pointing at Gunthr. ¡°A finer cut. You¡¯re not butchering a battlefield, you¡¯re crafting a delicacy.¡±

    Gunthr nodded solemnly, as if he had just been given the most honorable task in the world.

    Zedlock, meanwhile, carefully handled another piece¡ªonly to accidentally catapult it into a nearby tree.

    Seraph exhaled slowly, rubbing her temples. ¡°I should¡¯ve done this myself.¡±

    Kylas smirked. ¡°Yeah, why aren¡¯t you? You seem to have all the answers, fox demon.¡±

    Seraph flicked her tail dismissively. ¡°I am not your maid. Also, my wounds need time to mend.¡±

    Kylas scoffed. ¡°For how long?¡±

    Seraph gave him a pointed look. ¡°A few hours.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re okay though..right?¡±

    ¡°..Yeah. More than okay. I won. That¡¯s enough for me.¡±

    Step Three: Cooking the Meat.

    Against all odds, the preparation was a success. The griffin meat, now skewered on a large stake over the fire, sizzled and crackled, the scent of divine beast filling the air.

    Gunthr and Zedlock, standing side by side, watched the flames with great reverence, their helmets tilted slightly in dramatic contemplation, as if they had just witnessed the birth of something legendary.

    Kylas, now sitting beside Seraph on the ground, could only watch them with mild amusement.

    Then, the silence settled.

    Seraph stared into the fire, her face illuminated by the flickering glow. Her golden eyes seemed distant, thoughtful in a way he wasn¡¯t used to seeing.

    Kylas, meanwhile, kept glancing at her, his thoughts running in circles.

    ¡®This is awkward. Why is this awkward?¡¯

    He wasn¡¯t good with quiet moments like this. His instincts told him to fill it, to break the silence with something, anything, before it swallowed him whole.

    ¡®Okay, dumbass, say something. It¡¯s not that hard. Just open your mouth and start talking. It¡¯s just a conversation. Just a conversation with a blood-covered fox demon who killed a griffin and dragged it all the way back here like it was a casual market run. Nothing weird about that. Nothing weird at all.¡¯

    He took a breath.

    ¡°I got a question now¡ª¡±

    Seraph immediately turned her head toward him. ¡°What is it?¡±

    The fire crackled between them, its warmth licking at the edges of the quiet. The scent of cooking griffin filled the air, thick and rich, but Kylas barely noticed it. He was too focused on Seraph¡ªon the way she sat, her tails still, her eyes watching the flames like they held answers only she could see.

    He hesitated before speaking, choosing his words carefully.

    ¡°Why do you smile when you fight?¡±

    Seraph blinked, her gaze shifting slightly toward him but not entirely meeting his.

    ¡°Why do you ask that?¡±

    Kylas exhaled, leaning forward slightly. ¡°Because when you fought Gunthr and Zedlock, that elegance you always carry yourself with? It was gone. You were smiling like crazy. Fighting like some rabid animal.¡± He furrowed his brow. ¡°It didn¡¯t feel like the same you.¡±

    Seraph didn¡¯t answer immediately. Her ears twitched, and her tail flicked once against the ground. Then, she straightened her posture, exhaling through her nose.

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you the truth.¡±

    Kylas didn¡¯t move, didn¡¯t speak¡ªhe just watched her.

    ¡°I smile¡­. when I fight for a couple of reasons,¡± she started, her voice even, measured. ¡°The first is because I used to be weak. I had to make myself strong after my kind was killed, after they were taken. I used to drown in fights I always lost.¡±

    She curled her fingers slightly, like she was feeling the ghost of those old wounds.

    ¡°But when I got stronger, when I started winning¡ªI smiled. Not on purpose. It just happened. I smiled because I wasn¡¯t that same weak pup anymore. And now, even after all these years, I still smile. Because every fight is proof that I made it. That I¡¯m not the same helpless thing I used to be.¡±

    Kylas felt something tighten in his chest at her words.

    ¡°I feel like I made my mother proud by being strong.¡±

    She shifted slightly, looking back at the fire. The light made her features look softer, but her eyes still held that sharp, unyielding edge.

    ¡°The second reason is my mother was a fighter. And when I fight, I think of her. I remember that I¡¯m standing on solid ground, that I can still have hope¡ªeven when I fear death.¡±

    Her voice was steady, but there was something else creeping into it now.

    ¡°I can¡¯t die until I save her. Until I save my people. Until I kill the Ten Gods of Nyxhelm.¡±

    Kylas swallowed, his throat dry.

    ¡°I¡¯ve failed too much before. I can¡¯t fail this time. There¡¯s too much at stake.¡±

    He didn¡¯t realize how tense the air had gotten until a single tear slid down Seraph¡¯s face.

    She barely reacted to it.

    Kylas didn¡¯t either. He just watched.

    Then, slowly, she turned her head toward him¡ªand immediately, her expression shifted. Her golden eyes sharpened, her lips curling into something more composed, more guarded.

    ¡°Anyway.¡± She flicked her tail, her voice suddenly lighter. ¡°Why do you talk to a rose like it¡¯s gonna talk back?¡±

    Kylas blinked, caught off guard. He wasn¡¯t expecting her to turn it around on him so fast.

    But¡­ she had told him the truth.

    It felt wrong not to do the same.

    He sighed. ¡°That rose has been with me since I was a kid. Now I¡¯m nineteen, and it¡¯s still here.¡± He stared down at his hands. ¡°It¡¯s always been beautiful. Even when everything else around me wasn¡¯t.¡±

    He exhaled sharply, his voice lowering slightly.

    ¡°When I felt like a monster. When I wanted to give up. When my parents were never home, always working the forge, like I didn¡¯t even exist. The rose was there.¡±

    His crimson eye flickered toward Seraph.

    ¡°Talking to it keeps me sane. Keeps me from losing myself.¡±

    Seraph didn¡¯t say anything. She just watched him, waiting.

    ¡°But¡­ I noticed something.¡± Kylas hesitated, then muttered, ¡°There was a little bit of rot on it the other day.¡±

    Seraph¡¯s ears perked slightly.

    ¡°And it made me wonder¡ªwhat if that¡¯s a sign? What if it means I¡¯m gonna rot, too? Even when I try to tell myself I can be something good, something¡ªsomething beautiful in my own way. What if it doesn¡¯t matter in the end?¡±

    He clenched his jaw.

    ¡°My Chaos Fire¡ªit¡¯s intense. It¡¯s strong as hell, yeah. But sometimes I wonder if I¡¯ll lose myself to it. If I¡¯ll just become the reckless monster everyone already expects me to be.¡±

    Silence.

    Neither of them spoke. The fire crackled, the scent of roasting meat thick in the air, but neither of them acknowledged it.

    Then¡ª

    Gunthr and Zedlock, who had been standing like statues, suddenly sprang into action.

    Gunthr dramatically pointed at the fire like he had just had the greatest realization of his life, while Zedlock, with the energy of a man who had been waiting for his moment, pulled out a comically oversized fork and gestured toward the food with a sense of extreme urgency.

    Kylas blinked. Seraph blinked.

    Then, Gunthr lifted Zedlock up like a battering ram and hurled him at the cooking meat.

    Zedlock hit the stake, bounced off, and landed perfectly upright, dusting himself off like that had totally been intentional.

    Kylas snorted, shaking his head. Seraph exhaled through her nose, amused despite herself. Neither of them laughed outright, but the air between them lightened.

    Gunthr and Zedlock saluted once more, their helmets tilted slightly, as if seeking approval.

    Seraph, still smirking slightly, stood up, brushing dust from her coat. ¡°The food¡¯s done.¡±

    Kylas stretched, wincing as his still-paralyzed arms refused to cooperate.

    Seraph turned toward him, then tilted her head slightly, ears flicking forward.

    ¡°Since your arms are useless right now, I¡¯ll have to feed you.¡±

    Kylas¡¯ entire body seized up.

    ¡±WHAT??¡±

 Chapter 7: Good Day

    The moment Seraph declared she would feed Kylas, she wasted no time. With a casual flick of her wrist, she plucked a piece of roasted griffin from the fire, the surface glistening with juices, steam curling up from its charred edges. Kylas barely had a second to process what was happening before Seraph knelt down in front of him, her golden eyes locked onto his face with a look of pure, unshaken determination.

    ¡°Open your mouth,¡± she commanded.

    Kylas blinked. ¡°Wait, hold on, at least let me¡ª¡±

    Too late.

    Seraph stuffed the meat into his mouth without hesitation, shoving it past his lips with far more force than necessary.

    Kylas immediately choked, his body jerking as he gagged on the massive chunk of meat. His arms, still useless and paralyzed, flailed pathetically at his sides, as if desperately trying to help himself but failing miserably.

    ¡°MRMPH¡ª!? GHK¡ª!!¡±

    Gunthr and Zedlock sprang into action.

    Gunthr lunged forward, dramatically patting Kylas¡¯ back with enough force to nearly knock him over, while Zedlock grabbed Kylas¡¯ jaw, tilting his head at an insane angle as if trying to get the food to slide down easier.

    Finally, after what felt like a battle for his life, Kylas managed to swallow, gasping for air. His eye burned with betrayal as he whipped his head toward Seraph.

    ¡°WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?¡± he wheezed.

    Seraph, still completely composed, tilted her head with that infuriating, effortless elegance.

    ¡°I¡¯m feeding you,¡± she said, her voice smooth. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to eat it.¡±

    Kylas gawked at her.

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t feeding!¡±

    Seraph flicked her tail. ¡°You exaggerate.¡±

    Gunthr and Zedlock exchanged glances¡ªthen, as if struck by divine inspiration, they dramatically pantomimed the correct way to feed someone. Gunthr, with the grace of a stage actor, held out an imaginary fork, miming a delicate movement toward an invisible mouth, while Zedlock nodded sagely, giving a thumbs-up of approval.

    Seraph watched them for a long, long moment.

    Then¡ªrealization dawned.

    Her ears twitched. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

    And then, for the first time since this conversation began¡ªSeraph actually looked flustered.

    Her tail flicked once. Then again. She stood abruptly.

    ¡°Don¡¯t think this means anything,¡± she muttered.

    And then she was gone.

    Gunthr and Zedlock hid behind a massive flowering bush, peering through the leaves like conspiring villains.

    A short distance away, Kylas and Seraph sat across from each other on the soft, overgrown grass of the garden.

    The sun hung overhead, casting a silvery glow over the ruined courtyard. The scent of charred meat lingered in the air, mixing with the faint floral sweetness of the blooming roses.

    Seraph, now silent and strangely composed, held a silver fork in her delicate fingers, her posture perfectly upright as she picked up another piece of food from a silver plate beside her.

    Kylas swallowed thickly.

    He was starting to sweat.

    She was¡­ actually feeding him.

    And the way she did it¡ªso smooth, so effortless, her movements so slow and calculated¡ªit made something in Kylas¡¯ gut twist uncomfortably.

    He tried not to think about it too much.

    But then she would meet his gaze, and suddenly his entire brain short-circuited.

    ¡®What the hell was happening right now?¡¯

    He felt like some kind of prince being spoon-fed by a damn goddess.

    Seraph, meanwhile, was also struggling.

    She wasn¡¯t showing it, of course¡ªon the outside, she looked as composed and unbothered as ever. But internally?

    She was screaming.

    Slanted thoughts raced through her head, spiraling faster than she could control.

    ¡®¡ª I¡¯ve never done this before. Ever.¡¯

    ¡®¡ª This means absolutely nothing.¡¯

    ¡®¡ª I¡¯m simply feeding a human because he¡¯s useless right now and needs strength to help me slaughter the gods. That¡¯s all this is.¡¯

    ¡®¡ª ¡­But what if he thinks otherwise?¡¯

    ¡®¡ª What if he actually believes this means something?¡¯

    ¡®¡ª What if he gets the wrong idea? What if he¡ª¡®

    Her fingers tightened around the fork.

    ¡®¡ª Absolutely not.¡¯

    ¡®¡ª I will never have feelings for a human.¡¯

    ¡®¡ª Never.¡¯

    Kylas, meanwhile, was still losing his mind.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to be so serious about this,¡± he muttered, trying to break the tension.

    Seraph didn¡¯t respond. She simply picked up another piece of food¡ªand fed it to him faster.

    Kylas nearly choked again.

    ¡°Oi¡ª!!¡±

    Seraph ignored him.

    She grabbed another piece.

    And fed him faster.

    His face turned red.

    Her face turned red.

    But she refused to acknowledge it.

    ¡°Man up,¡± she muttered, shoving another piece into his mouth.

    ¡°I AM manning up¡ª!!¡±

    Gunthr and Zedlock, still hidden behind the flowers, exchanged another dramatic glance.

    Then, at the perfect moment, they sprang from their hiding spot, pointing directly at Kylas¡¯ face.

    With unmatched theatrical energy, they both motioned wildly at his mouth.

    As if to say¡ª

    ¡°GET THAT OFF HIS FACE.¡±

    Seraph stared at them.

    Then at Kylas.

    She exhaled sharply. ¡°Fine.¡±

    For a second, it was quiet.

    Kylas and Seraph locked eyes.

    There was a strange tension in the air¡ªlike neither of them knew how to properly process what was happening.

    Then¡ªin the blink of an eye¡ª

    Seraph¡¯s tail lashed out¡ª

    ¡ªAnd smacked the piece of food clean off Kylas¡¯ face.

    Gunthr and Zedlock immediately dove behind the flowers again, like they had just witnessed something too powerful for mortal eyes.

    Kylas, meanwhile, sat completely stunned.

    Then¡ª

    ¡°WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!?¡±

    Seraph flicked her hair over her shoulder, trying desperately to maintain her composure. ¡°You had food on your face. I removed it.¡±

    ¡°With your tail!?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you just wipe it off like a normal person!?¡±

    ¡°Because I didn¡¯t feel like it!¡± she snapped, her voice going higher than usual. ¡°And I¡¯m not some normal person, I¡¯m not even a person.¡±

    Kylas squinted at her.

    ¡°Are you nervous?¡±

    Seraph immediately got louder.

    ¡°No.¡±

    They bantered back and forth as Gunthr and Zedlock watched from behind the flowers, completely invested.

    And despite the absolute chaos of the situation¡ª

    Despite his rapidly beating heart¡ª

    Kylas couldn¡¯t help but think¡ª

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    What the hell is even happening right now?

    ¡­.

    The garden was bathed in the ever-constant golden sunlight, the warmth settling over the remnants of their feast. Kylas leaned back against the sack of grain, his arms still useless at his sides, eyes flickering toward Seraph, who sat with her legs folded neatly beneath her, a plate balanced delicately in her hands. Despite the wreckage of their battle, despite the blood she had washed from her skin, despite the exhaustion clinging to the edges of her features, she ate with an effortless elegance. Every bite was precise, every movement controlled, yet the faintest red tinged her cheeks.

    Kylas tilted his head, studying her. ¡°You eat so delicately,¡± he muttered, half in awe, half in curiosity.

    Seraph paused mid-bite, her eyes flicking to his, and after a moment, she swallowed and set the plate down. ¡°I¡¯m fighting the urge,¡± she admitted softly, a small, almost sheepish smile curving her lips. ¡°It¡¯s in our nature to ravage our food, to tear into it like beasts. I don¡¯t want you to see me like that.¡± Her voice was steady, yet there was something fragile about the way she said it. Then, almost teasingly, she added, ¡°It might remind you of yourself. Of how primal and feral you are.¡±

    Kylas scoffed, rolling his eyes. ¡°Oi..what¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±

    Seraph simply picked up her plate again and resumed eating, unbothered.

    For a while, silence stretched between them, but it wasn¡¯t uncomfortable. The fire crackled, embers floating lazily into the air as Gunthr and Zedlock stood side by side, their glowing visors locked onto the flames, arms crossed in dramatic appreciation of their work.

    Then, Kylas spoke. ¡°So¡­ what¡¯s the first step in killing these ten gods?¡± His voice carried an edge of skepticism, as if he half-expected her to say something insane, like they were just going to waltz in and start swinging their weapons. ¡°We can¡¯t just bust up in there and start slaughtering.¡±

    Seraph finished chewing, swallowing gracefully before looking at him. ¡°We need to find a Druid.¡±

    Kylas raised an eyebrow. ¡°A Druid?¡±

    ¡°They are the only ones who can guide us,¡± Seraph explained, shifting slightly to face him. ¡°The Druids of Nyxhelm can use the wind and nature to find anything, no matter how well hidden. Their abilities are ancient, spanning across multiple worlds before this one was created. They have the gift of sight¡ªtrue sight. If there¡¯s anyone who can find a way into Hell, it¡¯s a Druid.¡±

    Kylas¡¯s expression darkened slightly. ¡°Hell?¡± he repeated, and when Seraph nodded, his stomach twisted.

    She continued, her voice lower now, more measured. ¡°I believe my mother and my kin are there. I don¡¯t know for sure, but it makes sense. All I¡¯ve ever heard is that Hell is the prison for those who refuse to mate with the Ethelen to create demi-gods. They don¡¯t force them after they reject the offer¡­ but they do bind their souls to Hell. When they die, they go straight there.¡±

    Kylas¡¯s brows furrowed. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Seraph admitted, her gaze distant. ¡°But I do know that my people were powerful, and power is what the Ethelen crave. Maybe they thought creating a hybrid with our blood would make something¡­ unstoppable. The Ethelen survived the last reset of the world. The Sphere destroyed everything before this, but they lived. And now they¡¯re desperate to maintain control.¡±

    Kylas let out a low exhale, his mind swimming with the weight of her words. ¡°So, a Druid can even use the air to find their way through Hell?¡±

    Seraph nodded. ¡°Yes. That¡¯s why we need one. But finding a Druid won¡¯t be easy. They¡¯ve been hunted, killed, and scattered. If any still live, they¡¯ll be in hiding.¡±

    Kylas stared into the fire, his thoughts churning. ¡°My parents used to tell me stories about the Druids,¡± he said. ¡°There were a few notable ones¡ªSivren of the Pines, Elduin of the Grass Land, and Thalia of the Veil. They all did incredible things. But the kingdoms accused them of treachery. Most of them were executed.¡±

    Seraph sighed. ¡°I know. But we only need to find one.¡±

    Kylas leaned his head back against the sack of grain, closing his eyes briefly. ¡°So, what? We just start wandering around asking people if they happen to be an ancient all-knowing air wizard?¡±

    Seraph smirked. ¡°No. First, we become Hunters.¡±

    Kylas cracked an eye open. ¡°And that helps us how?¡±

    ¡°Hunters have access to places no one else does. Even more than Adventurers. If we gain enough reputation, we¡¯ll be able to travel freely, access forbidden knowledge, and cross into lands that are otherwise restricted. And besides,¡± Seraph added, leaning forward slightly, ¡°the more famous a Hunter becomes, the more likely they are to be invited to meet one of the gods.¡±

    Kylas blinked. ¡°Wait. You¡¯re saying if we get famous enough, one of the ten gods will personally invite us over?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°And what, exactly, do they invite us for?¡±

    Seraph hesitated. Then, she said flatly, ¡°To mate with them.¡±

    Kylas gagged. ¡°Sounds super odd when you put it like that. We¡¯re not actually going to do it are we?¡±

    ¡°Of course not. I have never given my body to any man and it will remain like that forever. But they will most likely want to mate with us, or make us their hounds, and snuff out their enemies. Those who are a threat to them. Beings of unimaginable power.¡±

    ¡°This is all happening too fast,¡± he muttered, pushing himself up slightly. His body ached, his arms still refusing to function. ¡°But I won¡¯t complain. This has to happen. Though I¡¯m not mating with any of them.¡±

    Seraph turned her head sharply. ¡°Kylas¡­¡±

    Kylas ignored her, looking toward Gunthr and Zedlock, who immediately began a slow, dramatic clap.

    Then, without warning, Kylas let out a loud, echoing fart.

    His entire body froze. His soul left his body. His paralyzed arms twitched.

    Gunthr and Zedlock slowly turned their heads to stare at him.

    Panicked, Kylas scrambled to his feet. ¡°THAT WAS AN ACCIDENT,¡± he yelled, his face burning red as he turned and sprinted toward the wooden house, his arms flailing uselessly. The moment his foot hit the dirt, however, he tripped and went down, face-planting directly into the ground.

    For a few painful seconds, he just laid there.

    Then, still too embarrassed to function, he started rolling toward the house instead.

    Gunthr and Zedlock immediately ran after him, helping him up in an overly dramatic fashion, acting as if he had been mortally wounded.

    Kylas, still burning with shame, yelled over his shoulder, ¡°IT WAS AN ACCIDENT.¡±

    Seraph didn¡¯t respond. She simply watched. And then, when the coast was clear, she let out the tiniest fart herself.

    ¡°¡­Idiot Kylas,¡± she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. ¡°Everyone farts. Stop getting embarrassed.¡±

    The garden was bathed in the rays of the sun, shadows cast by the flowers swaying softly in the breeze. The scent of damp earth and faintly wilting roses lingered in the air. Kylas sat alone in the heart of it all, his body aching from the strain of the day, his arms still tingling from the remnants of paralysis. But his mind was elsewhere¡ªfixated on a single rose before him, its once-vibrant petals now edged with the creeping decay of rot.

    His lips parted in a weary sigh.

    ¡®Can¡¯t sit here like some damsel in distress. Fuck that.¡¯

    Something about that rose stirred something deep within him, something ancient and furious. The more he looked at it, the more it felt like a reflection of himself¡ªsomething meant to burn bright, yet held back, suffocating, decaying before its time. His hands curled into fists. The seal binding him was still there, coiling around his essence like invisible chains. He could feel it, constantly tightening, constantly stifling the fire inside him.

    Closing his eyes, Kylas exhaled sharply. His thoughts drifted inward, deeper and deeper, past his physical body and into the abyss within¡ªthe endless black void of his subconscious. In the darkness, something moved. A shadow that wasn¡¯t quite a shadow, a towering figure with burning eyes, standing just out of reach.

    His older self.

    ¡®Is that me..?¡¯

    The figure extended a hand, and glowing symbols flared to life in the void, burning a path through the darkness like constellations of fire.

    IZH-YALH-ZOH.

    The rune of Searing Omen burned into his mind first. Kylas reached out, trying to carve the sigils into the empty space, trying to feel the fire that should have been his to command. But the moment his fingers traced the air¡ª

    Pain.

    A sharp, violent pulse shot through his skull, like molten needles digging into his brain. Blood dripped from his nose, splattering against the soil in the real world. His breathing hitched, but he gritted his teeth.

    Again.

    IZH-KOT-MAKH.

    Infernal Crucible. He focused, weaving the next set of runes, trying to manifest the consuming flames, trying to shape them into something real. His vision blurred. His gums throbbed. Blood seeped between his lips, hot and metallic, staining his teeth. His body screamed at him to stop, but he would not.

    Again.

    IZH-VEZ-KESH.

    Rapture Claw. He reached out in the void, grasping at the fragments of flame, at the burning fractures of reality itself¡ª

    His head snapped back as blood burst from his right eye, running in thick crimson trails down his cheek. His entire body shuddered, his skin burning as if something inside him was trying to claw its way free.

    But he wasn¡¯t done.

    IZH-MAKH-VAZH.

    Oathbreaker¡¯s Requiem.

    His breath came in ragged gasps. His body trembled. The strain on his soul was unbearable, but his fingers kept moving, kept drawing, kept weaving. The void around him pulsed with unstable energy, and his older self merely watched¡ªsilent, expectant, waiting for him to either succeed or collapse.

    IZH-YALH-KESH.

    Blasphemer¡¯s Flight. The last rune.

    Kylas exhaled sharply, his body barely able to hold itself up. Blood pooled beneath him. His vision darkened. The sigils blurred, warping under his own instability. He could feel himself slipping, his mind shattering under the weight of it all¡ª

    A voice.

    ¡°No¡ªKylas, stop!¡±

    A pair of hands reached for him.

    Seraph.

    But before she could grab him, Gunthr and Zedlock restrained her, their silent forms standing firm as they held her back.

    ¡°Get off of me!¡± she snarled, but the two sentient armors did not budge.

    Her breath hitched as she turned back toward Kylas.

    He was crying.

    Silent, burning tears streaking down his bloodied face, his expression twisted in agony¡ªbut he didn¡¯t stop. He was kneeling in the dirt, shaking, bleeding, breaking¡ªyet still reaching forward, still trying to carve the final rune, the final piece.

    Seraph¡¯s ears flattened. ¡°You idiot¡­¡± she whispered, her voice unsteady.

    Gunthr and Zedlock glanced at each other, then back at Kylas. Even they, beings without flesh, seemed to feel the weight of what was happening.

    Kylas gasped, his fingers trembling as they traced the last sigil¡ª

    His eyes flicked toward the dying rose.

    For a split second, he wasn¡¯t here anymore.

    He was a child again. Sitting in front of the same flower, talking to it with a soft voice, telling it his stories when he had no one else to listen.

    Something inside him snapped.

    A primal, unrelenting fury tore through him.

    His head tilted back, and he roared¡ª

    A violent explosion of red flames burst outward, the ground beneath him scorching black. Wind howled through the garden as the sigils around him burned into existence, their fiery marks warping the air itself.

    Gunthr and Zedlock moved fast, shielding Seraph as the force of it all tore through the space around them.

    And then¡ª

    The flames died.

    The air settled.

    And Kylas fell to his knees, his body drenched in sweat and blood, his breath shallow and ragged. His eyes were wide, unfocused, staring up at the star-filled sky.

    He did it.

    The black talisman that had once bound him was gone¡ªreduced to nothing but smoldering ash in the wind.

    ¡°A black talisman¡­dark magic?¡± Seraph noticed.

    ¡®Dark magic¡­only place where it comes from is Hell itself¡­are his parents unconverted with Hell? What other beings?!¡¯

    Kylas sat up slowly, his breathing ragged, his body a canvas of fresh wounds and seared flesh. He could still feel the phantom pain of the runes carving themselves into his mind, into his very being. His vision was blurred with exhaustion, but when he looked down at his hands, he saw it¡ªthe red flames coiling around his fingers like living tendrils, flickering with an unnatural intelligence. His power was no longer sealed. He had done it.

    With a shaky breath, he pushed himself to his feet. His legs threatened to buckle, but he moved forward, each step a weighty echo of the past. He wasn¡¯t just walking¡ªhe was retracing the steps of his childhood, that small, lonely boy running barefoot through this garden, always stopping in front of the rose.

    ¡®Did I do l it..?¡¯

    And now, here he was again. Only this time, he wasn¡¯t running¡ªhe was walking, burdened by years of suffering, by the knowledge of what lay ahead. But despite it all, he reached out. His fingertips brushed the petals, delicate and impossibly soft.

    He exhaled sharply, a shuddering breath, as a single tear slipped down his face. His lips trembled as he whispered, ¡°I¡¯m out¡­ I¡¯m finally out¡­¡±

    Behind him, Seraph stepped forward, her movements slow, hesitant.

    ¡®¡ªFool. Reckless fool. He didn¡¯t stop even when it nearly killed him.¡ª¡®

    Her eyes softened slightly as she watched him, his shoulders shaking with restrained emotion. She knew what it felt like¡ªto be desperate enough to claw through death itself for freedom.

    ¡®¡ªBut¡­ I can¡¯t say I hate it. That kind of determination¡­ that¡¯s something even I understand.¡ª¡®

    She crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly, her white hair cascading over her shoulder. Out loud, she scoffed, ¡°Tch. Idiot. At least you managed to harness something from your past life.¡±

    Gunthr and Zedlock approached next, their massive armored frames clanking lightly as they moved. They exchanged a glance before one of them reached out and gently rubbed Kylas¡¯s head.

    Kylas groaned. ¡°Oi¡ªwhat the hell? I¡¯m not a damn child.¡±

    Gunthr patted him harder.

    ¡°Alright, alright, I get it! Geez!¡± He swatted at them, but it was half-hearted. The warmth behind their gesture made him roll his eyes, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth.

    Then his gaze fell back on the rose. His expression sobered. ¡°I want to find a way to preserve it¡­ take it with me. But¡­¡± He hesitated, frowning. ¡°What if I uproot it, and it loses whatever weird immortality it has?¡±

    Seraph sighed, placing a hand on her hip. ¡°We¡¯ll be back for it.

    Kylas stared at her for a long moment, then nodded. ¡°Yeah. Yeah, you¡¯re right.¡±

    He turned slowly, sweeping his gaze across the garden. The beautifully strange plants shimmered under the endless sunlight, their colors shifting subtly, as if they were aware he was leaving. His lips parted slightly as he took it all in¡ªthis place that had been his prison for so long.

    He exhaled. ¡°I won¡¯t miss this place.¡±

    Then, without hesitation, he turned his back on it and began walking.

    Seraph followed at his side, her arms still crossed, her eyes flicking between Kylas and the horizon. Behind them, Gunthr and Zedlock paused for a brief moment, looking back at the garden, the place they had stood guard over for so long. Then, almost hesitantly, they raised their gauntlets and gave it a small wave before finally stepping forward to follow.

    Seraph caught that. She watched the way they silently acknowledged the past before leaving it behind, the way they didn¡¯t speak but still understood.

    Then, as they walked, the sky stretched out before them, bright and vast.

    And high above, watching, unmoving, the Black Sphere loomed.

 Chapter 8: Black Fog

    Kylas walked through the forest, looking at the rose he left behind, promising he¡¯ll be back for it.

    ¡®I promise..¡¯

    They walked through the forest around them, and going out far enough, his happiness to be away from the garden touching his emotions. He came across a tree, its bark ashen white, a hollow in its trunk gaping like a wound. He looked at it, and thought it was pretty badass, and kept walking.

    The road stretched endlessly beneath the golden light, the brilliance of Nyxhelm¡¯s eternal sun casting a surreal glow over the land. Marble streets gleamed like polished bone, their pristine surfaces never knowing the touch of true darkness. The air hummed¡ªnot with silence, not with wind, but with the distant, melodic murmurs of the people, their voices entwined in ceaseless hymns. The very breath of the city was a song, and to disrupt it with mere spoken words was an unforgivable sin.

    Seraph walked ahead, her keen fox-kin eyes sweeping over the radiant spires and elaborate architecture, all sculpted in a manner that suggested worship itself had carved the city into existence. The absence of shadows, the way the people moved with unnatural grace, their faces alight with quiet reverence, as if anything less than devotion would unmake them.

    Kylas, however, was too enraptured to care.

    He dashed from place to place like a child unleashed upon a festival for the first time. One moment he was pressing his hands against a wall of smooth, alabaster stone of a nearby monastery, marveling at the coolness beneath the heat. The next, he was kneeling, running his fingers through the golden veins lacing the marble paths. ¡°This is insane!¡± he exclaimed, his voice shattering the sacred silence of the street.

    A ripple of dissonance passed through the air. The hymn wavered¡ªa subtle, almost imperceptible break in the seamless chorus. Seraph stiffened. Even Gunthr and Zedlock, ever the silent knights, straightened their stances, their metallic forms rigid with caution.

    Kylas, oblivious, continued his chaotic exploration. ¡°This place is¡ªWhoa, what¡¯s that?¡±

    He had spotted a fountain¡ªno, not water, not stone, but a construct of shifting light, golden liquid twisting into ever-changing shapes. It pulsed as if alive, and Kylas reached out for it. The moment his fingers brushed the radiant substance, a violent force repelled him. He was flung backward with such speed that he barely had time to yell before he crashed into the ground.

    Gunthr and Zedlock reacted dramatically, flanking him like worried attendants, while Seraph merely pinched the bridge of her nose.

    ¡°Did you hear anything I just said?¡± she asked, her voice laced with exasperation. ¡°You¡¯re not supposed to touch random things.¡±

    Kylas groaned, sitting up, rubbing his head. ¡°You could¡¯ve warned me that the sun-water or whatever would try to sling my ass.¡±

    ¡°I did. You weren¡¯t listening.¡±

    ¡°Oops.¡±

    Still, she sighed and helped him to his feet. ¡°Listen. The streets are paved with white marble, and some of the most devoted people speak only in hymns¡ªbecause blasphemy burns. Shadows are outlawed, and those who create them¡ª¡± she paused, watching Kylas¡¯ reaction, ¡°even by accident¡ªare executed as heretics. Their bodies vanish into light.¡±

    Kylas blinked at her, then gave a slow nod of understanding. ¡°Right. No talking, no touching, no shade-making unless it¡¯s a house or place of business. Got it.¡±

    Seraph narrowed her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re going to immediately break all of those rules, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Before he could answer, something shifted in the air. A warmth¡ªnot from the sun, but from the land itself. The horizon shimmered, and from the distant dunes of golden sand emerged beings unlike any seen before.

    They walked like men, yet their forms were molten silhouettes, their bodies a lattice of light held together by intricate runic etchings. The symbols burned across their arms and torsos, shifting like constellations in motion. Their heads were featureless save for the circular halos of white flame where eyes should have been.

    Seraph inhaled sharply. Solaris-bound. She recognized them¡ªguardians of the eternal sun, beings forged from law itself. In past worlds, she had seen their kind pass judgment on those who spoke against the light. Their hands, when raised, could unmake a person in an instant, reducing them to nothing but a faint golden mist.

    Kylas, of course, had no such concerns.

    ¡°Shit,¡± he whispered, stepping forward with the reckless curiosity of someone who had never been burned. ¡°They¡¯re like walking stars¡ª¡±

    Seraph seized him by the collar and yanked him back before he could get himself obliterated. ¡°Do not approach them.¡±

    Gunthr and Zedlock, perhaps wisely, took a few steps away from Kylas, as if subtly distancing themselves in case he was about to be incinerated.

    The Solaris-bound walked past without acknowledging them, their hymn-like voices blending into the larger song of the city. As they moved, the very ground seemed to glow in their wake, leaving radiant footprints that shimmered before fading.

    Kylas finally pulled himself free of Seraph¡¯s grip, rubbing his neck. ¡°Alright, alright. No running up to the sun-people.¡±

    They continued onward, the streets eventually leading them to a vast body of water. But this was no ordinary lake or sea. It stretched impossibly far, reflecting the eternal sun with a radiance so intense it was almost blinding. The water itself was golden, thick yet fluid, swirling with runic symbols that pulsed beneath the surface.

    Kylas crouched near the edge, squinting. ¡°Is that¡ª¡±

    ¡°The royal sigil,¡± Seraph confirmed. ¡°A sun with too many rays, curling inward like grasping fingers.¡±

    Kylas whistled. ¡°Dramatic.¡±

    Upon the luminous waves, ships drifted¡ªvessels unlike any known to mortal seas. Their hulls were carved from the same white marble as the city, yet their sails were woven from pure light, shifting hues between gold and ivory. Banners adorned with the kingdom¡¯s symbol fluttered despite the absence of wind.

    The crewmen aboard them were no ordinary soldiers. Their armor was sculpted, intricate beyond human craftsmanship, each plate engraved with celestial runes that gleamed with a divine fire. Helms bore elongated, sunburst-like crests, and where their eyes should have been, only light shone through.

    Kylas turned to Seraph, expression unreadable. ¡°So, uh¡­ they see us, right?¡±

    ¡°Oh, they see us,¡± she murmured. ¡°They just don¡¯t care. Yet.¡±

    Gunthr and Zedlock, silent as ever, seemed almost entranced by the spectacle before them. Kylas, though fascinated, was clearly battling the overwhelming urge to poke something¡ªwhich, if Seraph had anything to say about it, he absolutely would not be doing.

    The four of them stood there, watching as the ships drifted, as the golden sea whispered secrets only the devout could understand. And above it all, high in the sky, the large black sphere still loomed. Watching.

    The marble streets stretched endlessly beneath the undying sun, their polished surfaces so pristine that they reflected the sky like a second firmament. The air was thick with hymns, the ceaseless voices of the people intertwining in layered harmonies that made silence feel like an intrusion. Every step through Nyxhelm felt measured, as though the very world was watching, waiting for missteps.

    Seraph led the way, her fox-like gaze drifting over the faceless statues of sun-worshipers, the vast murals depicting Alzhaer in all his radiance, and the ever-present golden banners swaying in an absent wind. She had seen all this before, in different forms, across different shattered worlds. Places where the sun was not a star, but a mouth.

    Kylas, Gunthr, and Zedlock followed, the former still rubbing his chin, digesting everything they had seen. He wasn¡¯t the type to sit around and philosophize, but even he was starting to notice something was¡­ wrong. The people moved too smoothly, their motions choreographed as if unseen strings dictated their existence. The way they sang¡ªnot individually, but as a single, unified voice¡ªmade his stomach feel tight, like a wrong note in an otherwise perfect melody.

    ¡®It¡¯s weird as hell actually..¡¯

    They turned into a smaller alley between two massive temple structures, aiming to leave the main streets behind. But as they stepped into the shade of the towering sun-spires, a presence blocked their path.

    Solaris-bound.

    Four of them. Their silhouettes flickered like living mirages, their bodies forged from golden luminescence with intricate runes constantly shifting across their forms. Their faces were smooth, featureless disks of radiance, save for the glowing, ever-watching halos where their eyes should have been.

    The hymns quieted. The city held its breath.

    One of the Solaris-bound stepped forward, its voice layered with echoes of past voices, speaking not as an individual, but as a conduit of the sun¡¯s will.

    ¡°Pilgrims, speak. Do you know the Five Tenets of Alzhaer¡¯s Light?¡±

    Kylas blinked. ¡°Uh¡ª¡±

    ¡®We¡¯re doomed. We''re definitely doomed.¡¯

    Seraph swiftly placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing just enough for him to shut up. She stepped forward, bowing slightly. ¡°Of course.¡±

    The Solaris-bound did not react. It was like speaking to a statue of molten gold. Then, another question.

    ¡°The First Tenet. What is the light?¡±

    Seraph answered smoothly. ¡°The light is the breath of Alzhaer, the gaze that grants life. To be unseen is to perish.¡±

    Kylas narrowed his eyes slightly. What the hell does that even mean?

    ¡°The Second Tenet. What is the shadow?¡±

    ¡°The rejection of his gaze. A falsehood. A defiance that must be purged.¡±

    Kylas glanced down at his own shadow¡ªor the lack of it. This place is seriously fucked up.

    ¡®Seraph¡­she¡¯s so good at this..¡¯

    ¡°The Third Tenet. What must be done with those who speak against the sun?¡±

    Seraph didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°They must be offered. Their flesh must be returned to the great veil of radiance.¡±

    Kylas felt his stomach twist. He had already noticed something about this place was off, but hearing Seraph say it so smoothly, as if she had memorized these words from experience, made him realize just how deep this madness went.

    ¡°The Fourth Tenet. Why do we sing?¡±

    Seraph¡¯s lips barely parted. ¡°Because to be silent is to be forgotten.¡±

    Kylas felt a cold sweat on his back. He turned his head slightly, watching the city behind them, the people moving like waves, their songs flowing without beginning or end. The lack of individuality suddenly struck him like a hammer. There were no arguments, no shouts, no laughter¡ªonly this ceaseless hymn by the most devoted people. Though, he did see some who didn¡¯t follow the protocol, but it was a small few.

    The Solaris-bound took a step closer. The final question.

    ¡°The Fifth Tenet. What is Alzhaer?¡±

    Seraph¡¯s expression did not change. ¡°He is light.¡±

    The Solaris-bound tilted its head, as if considering. Then, without another word, the four of them turned and walked past, vanishing into the radiant haze of the city.

    Kylas let out a slow exhale, running a hand through his hair. ¡°So, uh. You just knew all of that?¡±

    Seraph glanced at him, expression unreadable. ¡°If we¡¯re gonna survive here, we have to be knowledgeable. And I¡¯ll teach you. The Solaris-bound will easily try and question those they aren¡¯t familiar with. Those who have been here for a long time get some leeway, or they just avoid them.¡±

    Kylas shook his head, finally processing it all. ¡°Okay, but¡­ this place is really fucked up.¡±

    Seraph arched a brow. ¡°You just now noticed?¡±

    They kept moving, leaving the alley and re-entering the broader streets. The city was alive in its own eerie way. They passed by vendors selling golden fruits that shimmered like captured sunlight, robed priests carving intricate symbols into marble walls, and groups of children humming soft, rhythmic chants as they played a strange, circular game where their steps followed invisible patterns on the ground.

    A woman bent over a basin of golden water, her reflection staring back at her without blinking, her lips moving in a silent, mirrored prayer.

    A man sat cross-legged before a statue of Alzhaer, methodically pulling golden threads from his own fingertips, weaving them into the marble like strands of silk.

    Above them, Gunthr and Zedlock both stiffened. Their helmeted visors turned upward, toward the sky.

    There, circling high above, was an owl.

    Its feathers were pristine white, its wings outstretched as it glided effortlessly through the air. But something was off. It wasn¡¯t flapping its wings. It wasn¡¯t moving¡ªit was simply hanging in the sky, suspended like a painting against the too-bright heavens.

    Watching.

    Kylas followed their gaze, eyes narrowing. But before he could say anything, another thought struck him.

    ¡°Okay, hold on. What¡¯s the deal with this Alzhaer guy?¡±

    Seraph¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but there was a pause before she spoke. ¡°Alzhaer¡¯s true form is an entity of pure luminescence¡ªbut not divine. It feeds on perception. To be seen is to strengthen it. That is why its people must never look away. Those who have gazed upon its true body have no eyes left, their sockets filled with molten gold. This kingdom exists only to worship its image, because if it is unseen¡­ it dies.¡±

    Kylas processed this. His stomach churned. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ probably the worst thing I¡¯ve ever heard.¡±

    Seraph simply nodded.

    Kylas opened his mouth to ask another question, but Seraph turned to him instead. ¡°Is this what you expected?¡± Her tone was calm, but there was something behind her voice. ¡°Being outside. Being away from the garden. Are you satisfied?¡±

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    Kylas didn¡¯t answer immediately. He walked a few steps ahead, climbing a small rise of broken stone, standing where the sun blazed fully upon him. He looked up into the never-ending sky, hands on his hips, shoulders square.

    And he smiled.

    ¡°This place fucking sucks.¡±

    Seraph let out a small, sharp chuckle before quickly masking it. But the sound had already escaped.

    A Solaris-bound heard it.

    It turned, golden light flaring. ¡°Pilgrim. What did you say?¡±

    Kylas didn¡¯t hesitate. He immediately threw himself into an exaggerated bow. ¡°Praise Alzhaer! Praise be to the glorious light!¡±

    ¡®I¡¯m doomed now!¡¯

    Gunthr and Zedlock, without missing a beat, also bowed, their heavy metal bodies lowering in eerie synchronization, though neither of them spoke.

    The Solaris-bound watched them for a long, tense moment. Then, without another word, it walked away.

    Seraph grabbed Kylas by the arm. ¡°We need to move. Now.¡±

    They walked, faster this time, leaving the crowded streets, moving toward the outskirts where the pale forests of Nyxhelm stretched like skeletal hands beneath the endless daylight.

    Then¡ªKylas stopped.

    His gaze locked onto a nearby tree, its bark ashen white, a hollow in its trunk gaping like a wound.

    Seraph noticed his sudden stillness. ¡°What?¡±

    Kylas¡¯ mouth felt dry. His fingers twitched.

    ¡°We¡¯ve been through here already, haven¡¯t we?¡±

    The owl still hung in the sky.

    But now¡ªit was dead.

    Hanging in the air.

    Watching.

    And Kylas saw it. And he was speechless. He never saw anything like this. And then going unnoticed, Kylas, Seraph, Gunthr, and Zedlock, noticed they were in the same forest they were in when they first left.

    Seraph said, ¡°What the hell¡­?¡±

    Kylas looked to the left, seeing the same tree he saw before: It¡¯s bark ashen white, a hollow in its trunk gaping like a wound

    Kylas said, ¡°There¡¯s no way we¡¯re back where we were¡­.¡±

    The moment Kylas froze, the world seemed to hold its breath. His heart hammered violently in his chest, the sound deafening in his ears as his eyes remained locked on the dead owl hanging motionlessly in the air. The air grew cold, thick with a suffocating tension that coiled around them like a tightening vice.

    Then, as though pulled from the depths of nightmare, Seraph¡¯s fingers twitched. Her pupils, once gleaming like sharp golden slivers, elongated, becoming thin, reptilian slits. The unmistakable sound of her breath, sharp and shallow, reverberated around them.

    She turned to Kylas, her movements sharp, as if she could sense the imminent danger even before it fully took form.

    ¡°Kylas!¡±

    Before he could react, she lunged forward in front of him, eyes wild.

    A scream tore through the air¡ªa massive black thorn shot from the earth, piercing Seraph¡¯s chest in an eruption of blood. The thorn was covered in rotting, black roses that bloomed and wilted at once, releasing a grotesque stench that made the air feel thick and nauseating. The force of it drove her back, the sharpness of the thorn pushing through her body, her blood staining the ground in dark pools.

    Kylas gasped, his legs locking as his gaze followed the horrendous sight. Her blood soaked the earth, dripping between her fingers as she crumpled to the ground, her face pale, eyes half-lidded. Her breath came in ragged wheezes, like the dying breath of some ancient creature. Her body trembled as the black roses began to grow from her wounds, their twisted stems wrapping around her, even burrowing beneath her skin.

    ¡°No..¡± Kylas managed to croak, his voice hoarse with panic, his mind unable to comprehend the sheer violence unfolding before him. He stood frozen, paralyzed, his heart gripped by a terror so foreign to him that it was as if his own blood had turned to ice.

    ¡®¡­.What''s going on¡­.?!¡¯

    Gunthr and Zedlock¡¯s bodies went taut in unison, sensing the threat that loomed around them. Gunthr¡¯s massive hand wrapped tightly around the chain of his wrecking ball, his expression unreadable beneath his helmet, but his movements deliberate. He swung the flaming sphere, the spikes of the weapon catching the light of the sun like molten daggers. The air hummed with the promise of destruction as he prepared for the worst.

    Zedlock was already in motion. His three-sided, jagged sword gleamed in the sun, the edges catching the light as if the blade were alive, each curve rippling with dark, liquid gold that seemed to bend the very air around it. The blade shuddered with energy, reflecting the gravity of the situation.

    But none of that could shake Kylas from his stupor. His hands, trembling, reached toward Seraph, only to stop short as he stared at his own palms. His fingers were slick with her blood, the red stains darkening against the pale white of his skin. His chest tightened, his breaths turning shallow. He could barely breathe, his vision wavering as anxiety and dread set in like a wave crashing over him.

    He wiped his hands on his tunic, but the blood wouldn¡¯t come off. Her blood.

    A low, guttural growl broke through the heavy silence, drawing Kylas¡¯ attention back to the darkening horizon. His eyes widened as grotesque, mutilated figures began to appear from the shadows of the forest, their bodies torn, twisted, and defiled in ways that defied the laws of nature. They were horrors, the stuff of twisted nightmares brought to life¡ªmonstrosities bound by an unimaginable, ancient curse.

    One creature stepped into view, its limbs unnaturally long, the fingers ending in jagged claws that scraped against the earth with each step. Its face was a warped, distorted mask, its mouth agape in a permanent scream, half-melted skin hanging from its skull. Its eyes were hollow, yet black veins crawled beneath its skin, pulsing with every twisted movement.

    Another crawled out from the undergrowth, its body a mass of contorted flesh and bone, its back split open like a grotesque flower with sinew and blackened flesh dripping from its ribs. It moved with unnatural grace, its neck snapping as it tilted its head, revealing rows of sharp, yellowed teeth that seemed far too large for its skull.

    From the darkness of the trees, a third beast emerged¡ªa hulking figure, its arms fused with the stumps of trees, bark and flesh growing from its back, a horrifying cross between man and nature. Its eyes were wide, crazed, reflecting a savage intelligence as it let out a guttural roar that shook the very earth beneath them.

    The remaining beasts were just as monstrous, their bodies deformed and twisted, some with skin stretched thin like leather, others with limbs fused together in ways that defied reason. Each one looked as though it had once been human, but now they were little more than walking nightmares.

    The creatures gathered around them in a circle, closing in on Kylas, Seraph, Gunthr, and Zedlock. Silent at first, they only moved in eerie synchrony, their movements too deliberate, too unnerving to be natural. They were like hunters, their eyes not looking but watching.

    Then, as one, they spoke, their voices a single, haunting whisper. It was the voice of the All Mother, and it echoed in Kylas¡¯ mind like a chant, rattling his thoughts.

    ¡°I knew one day you would break the seal. I did not expect it to be so soon. You, Kylas, are a danger to this world¡ªlike the rest of the gods. Keeping you in the garden was mercy, not a prison. Your parents begged for you to be spared, to be kept alive, because they assumed we would manipulate you¡ªuse you against the gods.¡±

    Kylas¡¯ heart pounded in his chest as he struggled to make sense of it all, his body unable to move, unable to fight back. The tension was unbearable, each word from the All Mother sinking into him like an anchor, threatening to drag him under.

    ¡°But you are not yet ready, are you? Your power lies dormant¡ªuntapped, unfocused. A weapon waiting to be wielded. You are useless to us now, but unchecked, Kylas¡­ unchecked, you will become a force. A monster¡ªworse than the gods themselves.¡±

    The words echoed in Kylas¡¯ mind, clawing at his thoughts. His hands clenched into fists, his eyes narrowing, but he still couldn¡¯t move, his legs rooted to the spot.

    ¡°I¡¯m not a monster¡­ I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m fucking Kylas¡­¡± he muttered, his voice hoarse, the words scraping out of him like a broken record.

    The beasts didn¡¯t respond. Instead, they moved closer, their twisted forms closing in like a nightmare tightening its grip. The air grew thick with the stench of rot, of death, and of something far older.

    Seraph, still bleeding and weak, managed to lift her head, her fingers digging into the earth. She hated herself for being in this state¡ªthis vulnerable, pathetic state. Her pride, her strength, felt so far out of reach.

    ¡°Run, Kylas.¡± She managed to gasp, her voice barely above a whisper. But it was too late.

    Gunthr and Zedlock were poised, weapons at the ready, prepared for a fight that seemed impossible to win. But Kylas¡ªhe still couldn¡¯t move. His mind was frozen in place, the weight of everything around him pulling him down into an abyss of helplessness.

    The world around him was closing in. He could feel the air growing thick with their presence. The black roses on Seraph¡¯s wounds bloomed, their petals curling like claws.

    The air, once thick with tension, now felt suffocating¡ªa stifling presence that weighed down on Kylas like the very weight of the world itself. The grotesque creatures that had first appeared seemed to pale in comparison as more horrors manifested from the shadows, twisting out of the darkness with sickening, otherworldly grace. These new arrivals were not like the others¡ªthey were worse. Each one was an aberration of nature, a twisted chimera, a living nightmare.

    One of them, a hulking beast, was a grotesque combination of man and serpent. Its lower body was that of a massive snake, scales glistening in the light, while its upper body was human¡ªexcept the arms were long, inhumanly so, ending in clawed hands that seemed to scratch and scrape the ground with every step. The creature¡¯s face was a contorted mask of madness, its mouth splitting open like a cavern, filled with rows of jagged teeth. As it roared, its voice echoed in a maddening pitch, a primal scream of rage and hunger.

    Another, a beast of sinew and bone, had its ribs exposed, forming a jagged cage around its chest. The creature¡¯s skin was torn in places, revealing veins that pulsated with dark energy, while one of its arms was a grotesque amalgamation of blades, fused and twisted together like a deadly sculpture. Its eyes, sunken and wild, scanned the group with predatory hunger, but it was clear that it was not focused on them alone. A wild frenzy had taken over, and it lashed out violently, attacking anything in its path¡ªincluding one of its own kind.

    More joined the fray, each more horrific than the last¡ªbeings of berserk fury, with bodies that were not simply deformed but utterly warped, as if reality itself was bent and twisted to form them. Some had heads that seemed to have fused with animal skulls, others had limbs that extended unnaturally long, ending in claws or talons that scraped across the earth. The air vibrated with a sickening energy as these monstrous entities clashed with one another, tearing into each other with savage brutality. Blood and gore spilled across the ground, mixing with the earth, as they fought¡ªbeasts against beasts, torn and broken bodies creating a scene of utter chaos. The sickening sound of bone and flesh tearing echoed, adding to the unholy cacophony of battle.

    And yet, amidst the chaos, the voice of the All Mother rang out once again, clear and unyielding. It was a voice that carried authority, but also something far darker¡ªa deep, unsettling conviction.

    ¡°The powers from Hell, from the very prison of the Ethelen, guide us,¡± Arnalla¡¯s voice echoed, twisting and stretching, like a thread weaving itself through the very fabric of reality. ¡°The coven of witches¡ªour sisters¡ªbring ruin to this world through our rituals. We do this not for pleasure, but for the gods¡¯ fall. For the world¡¯s liberation. The world must be free, and we will be the ones to purge it.¡±

    Her words cut through the madness of the battle as if she were unbothered by the carnage around her.

    ¡°But you, Kylas, you must not interfere. Your power¡ªuntamed, uncontrolled¡ªcannot be allowed to threaten us. You may have been sealed for a reason. Now, I offer you an option. Go back to the garden. We will mark you again, branded by the talisman, and you will return. You will not remember, but you will be safe. Or¡­¡±

    The words hung in the air, heavy with finality, as the thick fog began to roll across the landscape, creeping in from every direction, thick and suffocating, as if the very sky itself had become tainted.

    Kylas stood there, his heart racing. He could hardly breathe, his chest tight with a fear he had never known. His eyes darted from Seraph¡ªstill bleeding heavily, her breath shallow and ragged¡ªand to the monstrous beings surrounding them, their grotesque forms circling like vultures. His legs trembled, unable to move, his mind struggling to comprehend the depths of the nightmare unfolding around him.

    In the blink of an eye, it happened.

    Seraph, her body crumpled, yet still clutching onto him with whatever strength she had left, felt the jarring motion as Kylas suddenly grabbed her, slinging her across his back in one swift movement.

    ¡°No..don¡¯t..leave me here..so I can fight¡­. I won¡¯t lose¡­¡¯ Her voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, as she gasped for air, blood dripping from her body, staining Kylas as he sprinted through the suffocating fog. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum, his mind consumed by a single, frantic thought: survive.

    The world around them seemed to warp, the black fog rolling in with a malevolent energy, as if the very air was becoming an extension of the All Mother¡¯s will. The shadows around them danced, reaching for them, as if they too were trying to keep them trapped in this nightmare.

    Seraph, clinging to him, felt herself slipping in and out of consciousness, her head dizzy, her vision blurred. She was reminded of a time when she was small, when a surviving fox-kin had carried her in much the same way. It was a memory¡ªfaint, fragile¡ªbut it filled her with an odd sense of comfort.

    Her body trembled against Kylas as she gritted her teeth, trying to block out the pain, her thoughts a whirlwind. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Mom.¡± The words whispered in her mind, as the ache of her past, her people, filled her chest with sorrow.

    But there was no time for that. They were in motion¡ªKylas¡¯ breathing fast, erratic. He stumbled over the uneven ground, the fog making it hard to see anything clearly. His mind was racing, his heart thundering in his chest.

    And then, the All Mother¡¯s voice rang out again, clear as ever, its cold, unsettling tone weaving through the fog.

    ¡°Go, sisters. Join each other in the hunt.¡±

    Her command echoed, a chilling order that seemed to pierce the air itself. And in the instant that followed, Kylas could hear them¡ªthe creatures, the horrors¡ªcoming closer. The hunt was about to begin.

    He ran faster, breath ragged, mind swirling in panic and confusion. Each step felt like it might be his last, the darkness closing in around him. He could feel Seraph¡¯s blood soaking through his clothing, her weight heavy on his back, but still, he ran.

    The hunt was coming. The fog closed in.

    The air was thick with tension, the forest alive with the dark murmurings of the coven¡¯s witching power, twisting and warping the very nature of the land. All around, the witches began their preparations¡ªeach one a grotesque embodiment of the All Mother¡¯s will, twisted by the dark magic that seeped into the very bones of the forest. They were preparing for the hunt.

    One witch, Calyssia, stood atop a gnarled tree branch, her body unnaturally elongated, her fingers clawing at the bark like an arachnid¡¯s legs. Her face was a mask of stitched-together flesh, her eyes black pits of emptiness. She cackled softly to herself, her voice like the rustle of dead leaves. In her hands, she twirled a razor-sharp needle, its thread made of living sinew. She whispered ancient incantations, stitching invisible threads through the air, preparing her trap¡ªan intricate web of magic that would ensnare any who passed beneath it. Her laugh echoed as she crouched low, her limbs bending at unnatural angles, ready to strike.

    Further along the forest, Morveth, a witch clad in dark leathers that shimmered with the reflections of distant fires, cracked her knuckles. Her body was marked with runes of power that pulsed with each heartbeat. She was preparing to launch herself into the air¡ªher form a blur of sinew and magic as she readied herself for a high-speed aerial strike. Morveth¡¯s eyes gleamed with feral anticipation, her mouth a twisted grin. She had always enjoyed the hunt.

    Not far from her, Nerith, a witch whose flesh was stitched together from various parts of beasts, stood motionless. Her body was a patchwork of skin, fur, and bone, her face an ever-shifting mask of stitched-together faces. Each face was a fragment of the past, eyes that blinked and mouths that murmured words of old. She reached out with hands that were gnarled and sharp, brushing the soil of the earth, pulling the tendrils of dark magic from the roots of trees. Her power was subtle but deadly, weaving illusions in the air¡ªshadows that danced and swirled to disorient and confuse.

    Fera, a witch draped in robes of tattered feathers, bent low to the earth. Her long, bird-like legs bent and shifted, each one a calculated movement as she began to summon her familiar¡ªa massive, raven-like beast that circled above, its eyes glowing with malevolent intelligence. She spoke in a low, guttural voice to the beast, binding it to her will. The air around her shimmered with the power of her incantations. She was the tracker, the one who would follow Kylas and Seraph¡¯s scent, picking apart their every move.

    Finally, Lethira, a witch whose face was marked with a grotesque crown of thorns, stood at the heart of a decayed shrine. She raised her hands to the sky, her eyes glowing with ethereal, celestial energy as she began to chant. Dark clouds gathered above, swirling violently as the wind began to howl. Her power was that of the elements, the winds and the storms. The forest around her began to buckle, trees twisting as though being pulled by invisible strings, each branch a weapon, each root a potential trap. Her voice echoed in unison with the others, a perfect harmony of malevolent power.

    The witching forest was ready for the hunt. The air buzzed with anticipation.

    Meanwhile, Gunthr and Zedlock darted ahead, their movements a perfect counterbalance to the chaos of the forest. Gunthr swung his massive wrecking ball with terrifying ease, his chain rattling as it flew through the air. The molten spikes on the ball left a trail of destruction in their wake. With a roar, he slammed the ball into a grotesque abomination that attempted to pounce. The creature¡¯s flesh shattered like glass, its limbs ripped from its body as the force of the blow sent it sprawling into a heap of broken bones and blood.

    Zedlock, his blade a shimmering weapon of deadly precision, danced around the fallen beast. His three-sided sword moved like a blur, carving through the air with surgical precision. He parried a blow from another monstrous creature, the strike clashing with his blade in a shower of sparks. In a fluid motion, he spun, his feet leaving the ground as he twisted into a mid-air somersault. With a ferocious strike, Zedlock cleaved through the neck of a creature that had been preparing to strike from behind.

    The battle around them was a chaotic whirl of motion¡ªbeasts lunging, weapons slashing, blood spraying, and the ground itself shaking beneath the violence. Gunthr swung again, his massive weapon carving through another abomination¡¯s midsection, causing its entrails to spill out in a grotesque display. Zedlock was a whirlwind of steel, his movements calculated and precise, each strike a blur as he danced through the fray with unnatural grace, effortlessly cutting down any abomination that dared get too close.

    Gunthr, roaring in fury, smote another creature with a devastating overhead strike, his weapon crashing into the ground with an explosion of dirt and bone. He pivoted, his chain wrapping around a beast¡¯s neck, lifting it into the air before hurling it across the clearing, where it collided with the twisted trunk of a nearby tree with a sickening thud.

    The All Mother¡¯s voice echoed through the chaos, a chilling presence that reverberated through the entire forest.

    ¡°I created them as sentient pieces of armor. They were to watch over him, to supervise Kylas,¡± she said with disbelief. ¡°But now¡­ they have taken a liking to him.¡±

    The air seemed to still for a moment as the weight of her words sank in.

    Gunthr and Zedlock were more than mere instruments¡ªthey had evolved, taken on lives of their own, and now, they fought to protect Kylas. The All Mother¡¯s words were laced with contempt, but there was something else in her tone: shock. They were no longer just soldiers. They had become something else. Something dangerous.

    The battle raged on¡ªfluid, fast, and brutal. Gunthr¡¯s wrecking ball cleaved through another creature¡¯s ribs with a resounding crack, the force of the blow shattering its chest. Zedlock, ever the precision artist, parried a vicious strike, then lunged forward, his blade carving through the throat of an abomination. The beast crumpled like a ragdoll, blood spraying across the battlefield.

    And yet, despite the chaos around them, Kylas continued to run. He didn¡¯t look back, his only focus on Seraph¡ªher body heavy across his back, her breath shallow and pained.

    Kylas ran through the forest, his mind spinning, his heart pounding. He couldn¡¯t stop. He couldn¡¯t breathe. His thoughts were a blur of fear and confusion, but there was one thing that kept him moving.

    ¡°Mom¡­ Dad¡­¡±

    His hands were shaking, his chest tight, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He wiped his hands on his shirt, trying to rid himself of the blood, the evidence of the horrors around him.

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry for hating you.¡¯

    Kylas thought, guilt gnawing at him as the weight of the situation hit him full force.

    The path ahead was dark, the fog thickening as the forest seemed to close in around them.

    And then, just as he thought he might escape, he heard it. The whisper of movement. The hiss of creatures slithering through the darkness. The sound of whirring dark magic from the shadows. The All Mother¡¯s forces were closing in.