THE LOST HEIR OF THE IMMORTAL WAR GOD

CHAPTER 4: THE FORBIDDEN AWAKENING

"Hit me," Kael said.

Axton stared. "What?"

"You heard me. Full power. Everything you've got. Warborne legacy, black lightning, all of it." Kael Tornhart stood in the center of his impossible garden, hands clasped behind his back, looking like someone's grandfather about to teach them chess. "If you can land a single hit, I'll eat this moss."

"I'll kill you."

"You won't." Kael's smile was infuriating. Calm. Certain. "I fought your father to a standstill. Twice. You're not your father. Not yet. Maybe not ever. So stop wasting time and hit me."

Axton's hands clenched. His body still ached from the sewer. From the altar. From everything. The power in his chest stirred, responding to his emotion.

He threw a punch.

Kael wasn't there anymore.

"Predictable," the old man's voice came from behind him. "Your body telegraphs intent three seconds before you move. Any cultivator above bronze rank sees you coming."

Axton spun, kicked.

Missed.

"Slow. Your father could cross twenty feet in a heartbeat. You're moving like you're walking through mud."

Anger flared. The power flared with it. Axton felt the Aegis Veins trying to manifest, crawling up his arms in sporadic bursts of midnight blue.

He moved faster this time. Closed the distance. Struck at Kael's center mass.

The old man's finger tapped Axton's forehead.

Gently.

Axton flew backward. Crashed into a tree that somehow caught him like a hammock made of branches. He hung there, stunned, while birds that shouldn't exist at this altitude chirped mockingly overhead.

"That was pathetic," Kael said, not moving from his spot. "You're trying to fight like a mortal while using divine power. It doesn't work. You need to stop thinking and start feeling."

Axton extracted himself from the tree. Dropped to the grass that felt too soft, too alive. "I don't understand."

"Of course you don't. You've had the power for less than a day." Kael gestured at him. "The Aegis Veins. The technique your father mentioned. Do you know what it actually does?"

"Protects?"

"That's one function. The Aegis Veins have three modes. Black for defense. Red for offense. Blue for balance. Right now you're flickering between them like a broken light. Unstable. Dangerous. Mostly to yourself."

Kael began walking in a slow circle around Axton. "The Warborne don't cultivate Qi the way normal people do. You consume it. Absorb it. Every attack against you, every technique someone throws, you can devour it and make it yours. But only if the Aegis is stable. Only if you're in control."

He stopped. "Show me black mode. Pure defense."

Axton closed his eyes. Reached for the power. It responded immediately, surging up like a wave. Too much. Too fast. He tried to shape it, to direct it.

The Aegis Veins appeared on his arms. Black. But threaded with red. Unstable.

"Wrong," Kael said. "You're forcing it. The Aegis isn't a tool you wield. It's a part of you. Like breathing. You don't think about breathing. You just do it."

"I don't know how."

"Then learn. Fast. Because I'm about to hit you."

Kael's palm struck out. Not Qi-enhanced. Just flesh and bone moving with perfect economy of motion.

It hit Axton's ribs like a hammer.

He went down, gasping. The Aegis flickered out.

"Again," Kael said.

Axton stood. The power in his chest burned with frustration and anger and something else. Something that whispered in that old voice, the one that sounded like accumulated war.

Let me out. Let me show this old man what we are.

No, Axton thought back.

You're weak. Pathetic. Let me handle this.

No.

Kael struck again. Axton tried to dodge. Failed. The blow caught his shoulder.

"You're listening to it," Kael said. "The legacy voice. I can see it in your eyes. It's offering you power. Promising you victory. Ignore it."

"It's loud."

"It's always loud. Especially when you're desperate." Kael's expression softened slightly. "Your father fought that voice his entire life. Some days he won. Some days it won. The difference between those days determined whether he was a man or a weapon."

Another strike. Axton blocked this time. Barely. His forearm screamed.

"The Aegis responds to intent," Kael continued, not slowing his assault. "Not force. Not anger. Intent. You want to defend. Not because you're afraid. Not because the voice tells you to. But because you choose to."

Strike. Strike. Strike.

Axton's world narrowed to motion and pain. Block. Dodge. Fail. Get hit. Stand up. Try again.

The power in his chest pulsed with each impact. Not surging. Not exploding. Just present. Waiting.

He stopped trying to force it.

Stopped trying to control it.

Just let it be there.

The Aegis Veins manifested. Pure black this time. Solid. Steady.

Kael's next strike hit the barrier of black lightning that had formed around Axton's forearm.

It didn't shatter. Didn't break.

It held.

Kael smiled. Actually smiled. "There. That's black mode. Defense. The Aegis predicts incoming force and creates a barrier. Not invincible. Not unlimited. But strong enough to let you survive what would kill normal people."

He stepped back. "Now red mode. Offense."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. But you need to try. The red mode is dangerous. It's pure destruction. It's what you used at the altar when you killed those cultivators. Uncontrolled red mode is how Warborne become monsters. Controlled red mode is how they win wars."

Kael's stance shifted. Suddenly he didn't look like someone's grandfather. He looked like what he was. A cultivator who'd survived decades of combat. "Attack me. Red mode. But controlled. Don't let it explode. Don't let it consume. Direct it."

Axton reached for the power again. Felt it respond. The Aegis shifted from black to red.

Immediately he felt the difference. The black had been cool, defensive, calm. The red was hot. Hungry. It wanted to destroy.

It wanted to kill.

His vision tinted crimson at the edges.

"Control it," Kael's voice cut through the haze. "You're not its servant. It's yours."

Axton struck. His fist trailing red lightning that looked like blood made electric.

Kael caught his wrist mid-strike.

The red lightning tried to surge into the old man. Tried to devour him.

Kael's own Qi flared. Gray smoke that smelled like winter. It pushed back against the red, contained it, forced it to collapse back into Axton's arm.

"Too much aggression," Kael said calmly. "Red mode amplifies your attacks. Makes them devastating. But it also amplifies your emotions. Your anger. Your hate. Use it wrong and it uses you."

He released Axton's wrist. "Blue mode. Balance. The hardest to achieve. The most important to master."

Axton's chest heaved. Sweat poured down his face despite the cool morning air. "How?"

"By choosing neither pure defense nor pure offense. By accepting both and transcending both." Kael's voice took on the cadence of a lesson repeated countless times. "Blue mode is control. It lets you flow between black and red seamlessly. Defend and attack in the same breath. It's what separates warriors from weapons."

"My father could do this?"

"Sometimes. When he remembered to be human." Kael's expression was unreadable. "Other times he stayed red so long he forgot how to turn it off. Those were bad days."

He gestured at Axton. "Try. No forcing. No anger. Just intent. I want to be balanced. I want to be in control."

Axton closed his eyes. Felt the power. The black pulling one direction, defensive, safe. The red pulling another, aggressive, dangerous.

He tried to find the space between them.

The Aegis flickered. Black. Red. Black. Red.

Not working.

You can't do this, the voice whispered. You're too weak. Let me help.

Axton ignored it. Kept trying.

Black. Red. Black.

Then, for just a heartbeat, midnight blue.

It felt different. Calm but alert. Peaceful but ready. Like standing on the edge of a blade and finding balance instead of falling.

The blue flickered out immediately.

But it had been there.

"Good," Kael said. "That's the foundation. You'll spend months learning to maintain blue mode for more than a second. Years learning to shift between modes in combat. Decades learning to do it without thinking."

"I don't have decades."

"No. You probably don't." Kael pulled a small ceramic cup from somewhere in his robes. Took a sip. Tea. He'd been carrying tea this entire time. "The Revenant Heptarchy doesn't give people decades to train. They kill threats early. You're at the top of their list now."

"So what do I do?"

"You learn fast. You make mistakes. You survive them. Repeat until you're either competent or dead." Another sip of tea. "Also you'll live here. The Tower has wards. Protection arrays. They can't breach them easily. Outside, you'd last maybe a day before they found you."

Axton looked around the impossible garden. Three hundred floors above a city that wanted him dead. "I don't have anywhere else to go."

"Most of my students don't." Kael's voice was matter-of-fact. "The powerful don't teach the desperate out of kindness. They do it because desperate students try harder. Learn faster. Have nothing to lose and everything to prove."

He set down his tea on a rock that wasn't there a moment ago. "We'll train every dawn. Combat. Control. Theory. Everything your father should have taught you if he'd lived. I'll also teach you how to hide. How to move through the city without being seen. How to survive in a world that wants you extinct."

"Why?" The question came out before Axton could stop it. "The life debt my father saved you. That's one thing. But this is more. Training me makes you a target too."

Kael was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, "Your father was my friend. One of three real friends I've had in seventy years of life. He died buying you seventeen years. Seems wasteful to let that gift go to waste because I was too scared to honor it properly."

Something in Axton's chest tightened. Not the power. Something else.

"Also," Kael continued, voice lighter, "I'm bored. Running a sect is administrative nonsense. Teaching a Warborne heir to not become a genocidal war god is at least interesting."

Despite everything, Axton laughed. Small. Broken. But real.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. You might die during training. I've killed three students accidentally. Well. Two accidentally. One deserved it." Kael picked up his tea again. "Now. We have maybe six hours before the Heptarchy tracks you here. Use them. Rest. Shower. You smell like death's outhouse. There's a room prepared three floors down. Everything you need."

"Six hours?"

"They're fast. Efficient. Once they confirm you're not in the sewers anymore they'll search systematically. The Tower stands out. I'm known to help lost causes. They'll come." Kael's eyes met Axton's. Storm gray and absolutely certain. "And when they do, you'll have a choice. Hide and let me handle it. Or stand beside me and learn what real combat looks like."

"I'm tired of hiding."

"Good. Hiding is boring." Kael gestured toward the elevator. "Six hours. Rest. Prepare. Then we see if you're actually Warborne or just a boy with a famous name."

Axton wanted to say something. Something profound or grateful or meaningful.

Instead he just nodded and walked toward the elevator.

The doors opened at his approach. Inside, the mirror was clear. No messages. No tests.

Just his reflection. Still covered in filth. Still exhausted. But standing.

Still choosing.

The elevator descended three floors. Opened onto a hallway that somehow existed inside a tower made of glass. Doors lined both sides. All closed except one.

Inside was a room. Simple. Clean. A bed. A bathroom. A window that showed the city waking up properly now, morning traffic beginning to flow.

Clothes laid out on the bed. Black. Practical. Cultivation robes without any sect markings.

Axton stripped off the ruined ceremonial whites. Showered in water so hot it felt like punishment and forgiveness at once. Watched the filth wash away. Watched the water run clear.

The scars remained. The one on his chest over his heart. The thin silver lines on his wrists where the altar chains had cut.

Evidence written in flesh.

He dried off. Dressed in the black robes. They fit perfectly. Like they'd been made for him.

He should sleep. His body screamed for it.

But he stood at the window instead. Watching the city. Somewhere out there, the Vail Manor stood empty. Or maybe full of investigators. Sentinel Order trying to piece together what happened. Finding evidence of a massacre. Finding nothing that made sense.

Somewhere out there, Castor lay in a hospital bed, mortal now, cultivation center shattered. Elira too. Seraphine. All of them broken.

Because of him.

The voice whispered. They deserved it.

Axton didn't answer. Didn't agree. Didn't disagree.

Just stood there watching the city and wondering if the person he'd been three days ago would recognize the person standing at this window.

He didn't think so.

A soft chime. The room's speaker system. Kael's voice, slightly distorted. "They're early. Four hours instead of six. I'm impressed with their efficiency. Less impressed with their manners. They've surrounded the Tower."

Axton's heart rate spiked.

"Come to the roof when you're ready. Or don't. Your choice. But if you're coming, bring the knife. The one from your father. You'll need it."

The speaker went silent.

Axton looked at the black robes he was wearing. At the knife still concealed in the sleeve despite everything, still perfectly hidden by whatever technique had made it.

He drew it out. The dark blade. The symbols that hurt to read. The leather grip molded to his hand.

The Warborne Never Kneel.

He could stay here. Let Kael handle it. Hide like he'd hidden for seventeen years.

Or he could go up there. Stand beside a man who barely knew him. Face the people who wanted him dead.

Not because he was strong enough.

Not because he was ready.

But because he was tired of being nothing.

Axton walked to the elevator. Pressed the button for the roof.

The doors closed. The elevator climbed.

His reflection watched him from the mirror. Black robes. Dark blade. Eyes that had seen too much in too few days.

He looked like his father. Kael had said so. Same bone structure. Same terrible fashion sense.

But the eyes were his own. Still human. Still scared. Still choosing.

The elevator opened onto the roof garden.

Kael stood at the edge, looking down. In his hand, a sword Axton hadn't seen before. Straight blade. Simple guard. The metal was gray as smoke, as storm clouds, as the old man's eyes.

Below, visible even from three hundred floors up, hundreds of cultivators surrounded the Tower. Organized. Armed. Their combined Qi making the air shimmer with heat distortion.

Seven figures stood at the front. Black robes. Red pins shaped like crescents.

The Revenant Heptarchy's champions.

One of them raised a hand. Voice amplified by technique, booming loud enough to shake windows.

"KAEL TORNHART. ELDER OF THE SHADOWVEIN SECT. YOU HARBOR A FUGITIVE. SURRENDER AXTON VAIL WARBORNE OR WE WILL CONSIDER YOUR SECT COMPLICIT IN DIVINE MURDER. YOU HAVE ONE MINUTE TO COMPLY."

Kael didn't turn around. "They're always so dramatic. One minute. Like I'm going to rush because they said so."

Axton stepped up beside him. Looked down at the army assembled below.

"That's a lot of people."

"Three hundred sixty-seven by my count," Kael said calmly. "Good turnout for a Wednesday morning. They must really hate you."

"Apparently."

"The seven in front are the real threat. Heptarchy champions. Peak gold rank or higher. Each one could level a city block if they were motivated. Together they're a problem even for me."

"Can you beat them?"

"Maybe. Probably not all seven at once." Kael glanced at Axton. "But I don't need to beat them. I just need to give you time to learn."

"Learn what?"

"That running isn't always wrong. That survival isn't cowardice. That living to fight another day is sometimes the bravest choice." Kael's smile was sad. "Your father never learned that lesson. Got him killed. I'd prefer you avoid his mistakes."

Below, the voice boomed again. "THIRTY SECONDS."

"So we run?" Axton asked.

"Eventually. First we show them you're not easy prey. Establish respect through violence. It's the cultivator way." Kael raised his sword. "You remember the Aegis modes?"

"Barely."

"Good enough. When I say move, you go back to the elevator. There's a tunnel system under the Tower. Exits throughout the city. I'll hold them here. Buy you time."

"I'm not leaving you to fight alone."

"Yes you are. Because I'm the teacher and you're the student and students do what they're told. Also because you'd die in three seconds against these people and I don't feel like scraping student off my garden." Kael's voice was light but his eyes were serious. "This is lesson two, Axton. Knowing when to let go isn't just about power. It's about pride. Sometimes you swallow it and run."

"The Warborne never kneel."

"No. But they do retreat. They do survive. They do live to fight when the odds are better." Kael's grip tightened on his sword. "Your father's motto was inspiring. Also got everyone who followed it killed. Maybe try a new one. Something like: The Warborne Never Die Stupidly."

Below, the champions moved. Seven figures rising into the air on platforms of Qi. Ascending toward the Tower.

The garden's light changed. Red. Alarms built into reality itself.

Kael's Qi flared. Gray smoke that smelled like winter and old war and determination that had outlasted decades. It rolled out from him in waves, pushing back against the pressure from below.

"Last chance," he said. "Stay and die or run and live. Choose fast."

Axton looked at the approaching champions. At the army below. At the old man beside him who'd decided his life was worth protecting.

He thought about the closet. About seventeen years of hiding. About being nothing while pretending it didn't hurt.

He thought about the altar. About the moment the seal broke. About the choice between victim and survivor.

He thought about his father's ghost. About the knife in his hand. About a legacy that came with a price but also came with power.

The Aegis Veins manifested. Not black. Not red.

Midnight blue threaded with silver.

Balance. Control. Choice.

"I'm not running," Axton said.

Kael sighed. "Students never listen. Fine. Don't die. I hate paperwork."

The first champion landed on the roof's edge. A woman. Black robes. Face hidden behind a mask of white bone. Her voice was cold.

"Kael Tornhart. Step aside. The boy dies today."

Kael took a sip of tea he'd somehow acquired. "Counterproposal. You leave. I don't kill you. We all go home happy."

"You're outnumbered."

"I'm old. There's a difference." Kael set down his tea. "Also the boy's under my protection now. You want him, you go through me."

Six more champions landed. Surrounding them. The garden that had been peaceful now felt like a cage.

The woman tilted her head. "So be it."

She moved.

Seven champions attacked at once.

And Axton learned what real combat looked like.

Kael's sword blurred. Gray smoke exploded outward. Three champions were thrown back before they'd taken two steps. The fourth's attack hit a barrier that bent reality and redirected the force into the sky.

"MOVE!" Kael shouted.

Axton moved. Not toward the elevator. Forward. Toward the woman in the bone mask.

She saw him coming. Raised her hand. Black Qi shaped into chains.

The same chains they'd used at the altar.

Something in Axton snapped.

The Aegis Veins flared. Blue shifting to red. Just for a moment. Just enough.

His knife met her chains. Dark metal that should have shattered against Qi constructs.

Instead, the chains shattered.

The woman's eyes widened behind her mask.

Axton didn't think. Just moved. The Aegis guiding him. Showing him openings. Weak points. The spaces between her defenses.

He struck.

She blocked. Barely.

They exchanged three blows. Fast. Brutal. Desperate.

Then Kael was there. Sword moving like gray lightning. The woman retreated. Forced back by an assault that looked effortless and probably wasn't.

"I said MOVE!" Kael's voice cut through the chaos.

"Not without you!"

"Stubborn like your father. Fantastic." Kael's sword drew a line in the air. Gray smoke filled the gap, becoming a wall. "Fine. We retreat together. But next time you listen or I will throw you off this roof myself."

They ran. Toward the elevator. The wall behind them exploded as the champions broke through.

The elevator doors opened at their approach. They dove inside.

Kael's hand slammed a panel. "Emergency descent. Hold on."

The elevator dropped. Not descending. Falling. Three hundred floors in seconds. Axton's stomach tried to exit through his throat.

They crashed to a stop. The doors opened onto darkness.

"Tunnel system," Kael said, already moving. "This way. Fast."

Behind them, above them, the Tower shook. The champions were coming.

Axton followed. Into darkness. Into unknown passages. Into whatever came next.

But not alone.

And for the first time since the seal broke, he wasn't running from something.

He was running toward something.

Survival. Training. A future that might actually exist.

The Warborne Never Kneel.

But sometimes they run.

And live to fight another day.