The next dawn broke blood-red. The towers of the Crimson Lotus Sect shimmered in the distance, their banners rippling like tongues of fire. The grand tournament had begun, disciples from every branch gathered to duel before the Elders, their victories measured in blood and spirit light.And somewhere among them… stood Kael.His face was hidden behind a plain mask of black iron, his robes dyed the muted gray of a wandering swordsman. Aelira had forged the disguise herself, tearing up a dozen uniforms until his presence was just forgettable enough to pass unnoticed.It worked mostly.“Try to keep your temper,” she murmured beside him as they blended with a group of recruits waiting near the dueling platform. “You’re supposed to be a nameless mercenary, not the grim ghost of a thousand-year-old warlord.”Kael’s lips curved faintly beneath the mask. “You make that sound like a bad thing.”“It is a bad thing if you want to stay alive long enough to steal the relic.”He said nothing, his

The world stilled as the Divine Envoy descended. Light drowned the arena, erasing color, shadow, and reason. Disciples shielded their eyes; the ground itself trembled beneath the weight of that sacred presence.Kael stood at the center of the devastation he had wrought, his blood still smoking on the cracked tiles, his sword humming with defiance. The golden figure before him radiated authority so pure it hurt to look upon.“Kael, the Twice-Forsaken,” the Envoy said, voice like molten brass. “You defied Heaven once, and still you crawl from the ashes? The gods’ mercy ends today.”Kael spat blood onto the glowing floor. “Mercy?” His laughter was dry and sharp. “Is that what you called the centuries of torment? The silence while my world burned?”The Envoy raised its hand. “Blasphemy cannot be reasoned with.”A spear of divine light formed midair and hurled toward him.Kael twisted aside, but even the edge of the blast seared through his robes, scorching flesh beneath. He stumbled, vi

The mountain gates of the Ashen Blades were silent when Kael returned.Not a word, not even a breath of wind moved across the courtyard as he and Aelira walked through the cracked archway. The sect, what little remained of it, watched from the shadows, eyes wide with disbelief.Rumors had already arrived before he did.The story spread faster than light itself:A lone disciple had slain a Divine Envoy.And that disciple wore the mark of crimson fire.Kael could feel their stares, some filled with awe, others with dread. The old banners of the sect fluttered weakly above, the once-white cloth now gray with age and ash.He stopped at the center of the courtyard, brushing the dust from his cloak. Aelira’s gaze swept the ring of faces watching them.“They’re scared,” she murmured.“They should be,” Kael replied quietly.The heavy wooden doors of the great hall groaned open. From within, Sect Master Ren stepped out, his robe slightly disheveled, his expression carved between reverence and

The Ashen Blades were no longer silent. By sunrise, the courtyard hummed with whispers.Kael’s defiance had spread like wildfire, some whispered his name like a prayer, others like a curse. Disciples gathered in corners, glancing nervously at the crimson mark that still faintly burned across the sky from the night before.“Did you see it?” one young recruit murmured. “The heavens bled. The gods… they screamed.”“Blasphemy,” another hissed. “He doomed us all. The High Temple will come.”Yet a few, bolder, hungrier spoke differently.“He burned a divine letter and lived,” a third whispered. “Maybe the gods aren’t as powerful as they claim.”By noon, two factions had formed within the sect, one devoted to Kael’s name, one desperate to save their skins.And Kael knew it.He stood at the balcony above the main courtyard, watching his sect tear itself apart. Aelira joined him quietly, arms crossed, her expression tight.“They’re breaking,” she said softly.“They were already broken,” Kael r

The mountain wind reeked of ash and steel.At dawn, the horizon burned red, not from sunrise, but from torches. Three sect armies stood in formation below the Ashen Blades stronghold, their banners snapping like claws against the wind.The disciples gathered on the walls, faces pale, eyes wide. Some clutched their weapons as if they’d break apart without them. Others whispered prayers to any god still listening.And in the hall behind them, the sect master trembled.“This… this is suicide,” he muttered, his voice cracking as the horns below bellowed again. “Three sects, each ten times our strength. If we surrender Kael Draven, they might spare us.”Across the hall, Kael leaned against a stone pillar, arms folded. The faint glow from his sigil lit the dark like an ember. “Might,” he repeated softly. “You sound unsure.”The old man’s eyes darted to him. “You brought this upon us! You slew a Divine Envoy, defied the gods themselves! What did you think would happen?”Kael pushed off the p